#people that actually follow me or know me or have talked to me at all know that’s not something I want

[astarless-fights]

A question I have always had: Do people care about the border because someone tells them they need to be concerned? Do they ever see proof? Or speak with someone who lives down there? Is it actually an issue or are people coming in and paying taxes, beefing up towns, and taking a part in the community? Is illegal immigration actually bad or is it a complex issue that is both good and bad and non local medias are just giving you a basic interpretation to have a talking point? Let’s dive deeper.

I have heard OP’s thoughts here before and it’s always come from border towns and border city limits. Which always tells me something else is going on.

Because here’s the thing, media reports and political agencies always misreport and misrepresent things that happen across the country. I have a couple examples as someone who comes from the East Coast but has had the pleasure of working in western states.

1. Remember when they introduced the wolves to Yellowstone in ‘95 and the media updated us back in 2016 “oh there’s wildflowers coming back! And the water is clean again”? I got that propaganda too on the East Coast. And sure, the good stuff probably happened. But wanna guess what I found out that year when I eventually shipped out to Idaho and spoke to wildlife biologists on the rivers?

They introduced the incorrect subspecies of wolf. Instead of using the historic Northern Rocky Mountain Wolves, they introduced a much larger, well traveling wolf called the Northwestern Wolf. The NRM wolves were small and tended to stick to a territory which would have been perfect for what they were trying to do for Yellowstone and the area surrounding. Instead they added a much hungrier wolf that follows its meals across the region, fucking up the ecosystems and wildlife patterns in surrounding states. Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana already had a pretty decent Rocky Mountain Wolf population that could no longer source its meals consistently due to wildlife patterns shifting dramatically, so they started going after the farms. Which if you are not someone who pays attention to wildlife laws and regulations, is the worst thing that could happen for them because farmers hold a lot of political power and often lobby local governments to increase population regulation (ehem, kill em).

2. When that kid died at Disney World… the one with the gator attack? Yeah, that was awful. I come from the southeast and growing up with gators nearby was a common experience for me. I was out in Idaho watching the news when it hit breaking news. The western media proceeded to push ideas that gators are controllable, it’s Disney World’s fault for not putting gates around the whole property to keep them out. It’s Florida’s fault for allowing this to happen.

Sure, should a gate have been placed around that beach? Totally. From working in tourism my whole life, the number one thing I have learned is that tourists are generally ignorant of local knowledge and common sense. I don’t mean this in a horrible way… but people forget they can die on vacation and tend to act as if it’s not possible so they disregard a lot of warnings. The gate would have been specific to people though. Gates don’t stop gators.

In fact they can climb. They can climb over a wooden gate, a chain link, climb up a tree, climb up the stairs… they are the largest vermin. They know no rules or boundaries. If there is water, they are there and they will find away to be there. It is common sense for those in southern coastal states to not go near the water at feeding times, watch the water, maybe keep your distance. If there are warning signs, then there’s definitely a gator that frequents the area but if there’s no sign, then there still is when no one’s watching. Western US media made it sound like they should have killed all the gators off and that just is so ignorant of the sensitive Floridian habitat. We need them there and in georgia, in south carolina, in Louisiana, and alabama. We need them in that ecosystem.

I remember listening to my boss at the time and my coworkers who had just listened to what I had were already shooting off the mislead comments of what the reporters had brought to light. Mostly because they didn’t know gators. They didn’t know Florida. None of them had ever been down there so when information is presented by a trusted source, why not trust that it’s correct?

Yes I explained to them before the topic left. But my observation still stands. Media that is not local to the topic will misconstrue the topic.

So when I see the LA fires and the east coast media telling everyone “the reason is due to them not taking control of their wilderness”, I want you to think of this post, what I have heard and seen with my own eyes, and search for a local reporter to the topic. Because I guarantee it is more complex than that.

Or when you see the border crisis and you aren’t from the border and neither is your favorite news channel… find a local news report to the topic.

If you see something being reported on from across the nation and you are not local, do yourself a favor and check out local to the topic reports. You’ll get more correct information instead of talking points used for political needs.

there is no border crisis. there is no immigration crisis. there never has been. it’s fear mongering, xenophobic, racist propaganda.

sincerely,

a life long borderland resident

[aakeysmash]

Farmer Sukuna and YN interacting with the other town folk?

(Which lead into my other question; is there any villager Sukuna actually enjoys talking with or is he a complete loner? I would think he would at least hang out with the adventure guild.)

farmer!sukuna and you visiting the old ladies in town

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Reader and Sukuna have many connections to the town folks. Yes, they’re self-sufficient, but they still have to make a living. Sukuna sells whatever his fields produce, and you’re a really great baker, so you end up selling some muffins/pies/sweets from time to time :)

You try to keep your lives as peaceful as they can get, so you keep to yourselves the majority of the time, but for the sake of your business you still have to meet up with people. Sukuna isn’t really happy about this because he is pretty much a loner lol, he isn’t an easy person to deal with 🧍🏻‍♂️ but he tries, mainly because he knows you care. You, on the contrary, are really good with words and gestures, and the old ladies really appreciate your company for tea time on Fridays. Sukuna, obviously, comes with you every time, too. And they absolutely love him.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re so thin these days! Is that brute not treating you well? Come, come, eat this biscuit,” a lady ushers you into her home, glaring at Sukuna who is behind you. You softly laugh while Sukuna grumbles “I ain't even do nothin'”.

“He’s treating me very well, ma’am. And I got you a blueberry pie, he made sure to pick all the ingredients for me,” you say sweetly, sitting down on the chair your husband got out from under the table for you. The old lady beams at your pie before shaking her white curls, pointing an accusatory finger toward Sukuna’s chest.

“You’ll have to fight me if you make her cry, do you understand, mister?”

“I would never, ma’am,” he says somberly, laying his hands on your shoulders. The other ladies at the table are hurrying to bring a chair from somewhere for him too, but he raises a hand to stop them. He doesn’t mind standing if you’re comfortable.

“One free pepper for every tear!” The same old lady exclaims, still furrowing her eyebrows.

“Let’s make ‘em two,” he smirks, bowing slightly. The old lady’s expression softens, and she coos at him. She pats him on the cheek affectionately, and you see his jaw ticking. He hates it. You snort, and he sends you a mean glance.

“You found yourself a gem, honey,” another kind lady sighs your way. You get up to point your chair at Sukuna, and he rolls his eyes, already knowing what you want him to do. You’re trying to include him in the circle around the table, just like every Friday. He sits down and you plop right on his left leg. His arms circle your waist, and you lean your back on his chest, content. "Strong, put a ring on your finger fast, makes sure you're fed healthy ingredients..."

"Oh, that I do, ma'am," he barks out laughing, making all the ladies follow. He has that young man charm that makes the group of ladies swoon.

"Let's drink some tea, shall we?"

[cinnamqnx]

heartbreak summer ꨄ︎

pairing. sae itoshi x f!reader

summary. after your friend finds out her recent ex has been in the news tabloids with yet another girl, your idea of get back turns your night into an unfortunate series of events with the outcome landing you directly in front of re al’s star player, and you’re about to kiss him.

warnings: nsfw elements, smut, swearing, toxic relationships & behaviour (not too much from sae surprisingly), angst

11 | pillow talk ( smut 18+ )

you had finally gotten back to sae’s apartment once again, feeling slightly awkward inside from your last encounter here.

“you don’t have to stand so awkwardly, make yourself comfortable.”, sae says casually, walking into the kitchen.

you quickly followed him, “well last time i was here we had a little problem.”

he turned around to face you after getting out a protein shake from his fridge, “didn’t we fix that?”

you stayed silent, “…or are you still upset?”

“i’m not upset, i just feel like there was a bit of awkward tension between us today.”

“i felt it too. it’s probably because we was with other people right after we spoke about it.”, you lean on his kitchen counter, soaking in the view of him.

there’s a small amount of silence before he speaks again. “do you want to stay?”, he asks, shaking his drink.

“i do, i think we should talk too. it’s not the same as over text.”, you nod.

“yeah, i actually didn’t really use my phone before you.”, he sets his drink down, “i feel like you have me doing a lot of talking.”

“is that a bad thing?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know, i just don’t really do all this, so it’s new for me.”

you make an amused face, “you don’t talk?”

“nah, i just mean in relationships. i’ve not really had girls pull me up on things i’ve done.”, he paused after realising what he just said, “sorry, that sounded really dickish.”

“it’s okay. at least you’re improving, a few days you wouldn’t have even realised.”, you joke, a small smile on your face.

“your smile is really pretty.”

you smile while rolling you eyes, “you’re a sweet talker.”

“can’t i just admire you?”, he tilts his head, an innocent but affectionate glint in his eye.

you smile at him, the same glint in yours.

12:22 am

you let out a shaky breath as sae began to kiss up your thighs, itching closer and closer to your centre, “you okay, beautiful?”

you nod, “mhm.”

he uses his arms to push himself up, planting a soft kiss on your lips, “you sure you wanna let me do this?”, he asks in a soft tone, making your heart swell.

“yeah.”, you whisper.

“c’mon, give me more than that.”, he says, placing his large palm at the side of your face.

“i want this, sae.”

he kisses you again, this time with more passion, tracing his tongue against your bottom lip, softly biting at it, causing you to let out a heavy sigh.

he smirks, “you’re so cute.”

he then started kissing alongside your jaw, tilting your head to the side for him to have better access. licking, sucking and kissing, you gasp, moving your head away slightly.

“you’ll leave marks.”, you say, his eyes staring into yours.

“hm? good, other men will know to stay away.”, he says before moving back onto your neck, just to move back to your lips.

you let out a breathy laugh at his possessive response, “i’ve not given you a reason to worry.”, you joke.

“i know. and you won’t, right?”, he murmurs, a vulnerable tone which has you surprised.

“i won’t. promise.”, he simply smiles gently, going back to kissing your neck, collarbone and shoulder, leaving no place unmarked.

he pulls away, looking up at your hazed expression, smirking before moving back down, placing small, gentle kisses on your abdomen.

“am i okay to take this off?”, he asks, his hands lingering at the waist band of your skirt.

“mhm.”, you nod, lifting your head up to look at him before dropping it back down.

he swiftly pulls your skirt off, throwing it to the side of his bed, teasingly pulling on your underwear before placing soft kisses on your upper thighs, moving to your abdomen.

“quit the teasing.”, you breath out.

he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips, “can’t i just appreciate you?”

you huff quietly, making him smile against your stomach, placing his last kiss, rubbing up your thighs and pulling away, getting a good look at you sprawled out on his bed in a tiny crop top and your underwear.

“be good for me.”, he says, his hands rubbing small circles on your hips, “do you want me to take your top off?”

you hesitate for a moment, that being enough for sae to bend down and give you a reassuring kiss on your lips, moving back down, “i’m gonna pull these off, okay?”, his hands on the waist band of your underwear, moving his fingers under the sides, ready to take them off.

you breath out, your stomach knotting with anticipation, “okay.”

he swiftly pulls off your underwear, checking your face for any discomfort, the cold breeze hitting you making you gasp quietly.

“you’re already so wet..”, he mumbles, moving down to place gentle kisses on your pussy, making you nibble softly on your bottom lip.

he hooks your thighs over his arms as he gets comfortable in his position, placing teasing kisses on your clit as he uses his tongue to tease your entrance.

you bite your bottom lip harder, your head leaning back even further.

“don’t hold it back.”, he looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust, “i wanna hear you.”

“it’s embarrassing.”, you whine, but came out more like a quiet moan.

“stop being silly, let me hear how beautiful you are.”, he says, leaning up and kissing you, making you taste yourself.

you nod slowly, looking back at him as he pulls away, “good girl.”

he returns to his original position, but using his now free hand to slowly rub on your clit while his tongue slowly licked along your entrance, eliciting a needy whine from you.

“there you go.”, he says as you let out the noises he’s been dying to hear.

he picks up his pace once he feels he’s edged you on enough, the slow circles on your clit moving faster and faster while eating your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth.

“oh, fuck”, you mutter, your hands moving to his hair, tugging on it as you throw your head back, his quiet moan vibrating on your clit.

he unravels his other arm from your thigh, using his thumb to gently circle your entrance, letting you know what he was planning to do, the new sensation drawing out a small gasp from you.

he gives your clit a teasing kiss before focusing his attention onto his fingers, his middle sinking into you while curling upwards, hitting that spongey spot that’s been dying for attention immediately.

you let out a gasp, arching your back and moaning put his name, “hm? what is it, beautiful?”, he asks, his tone irritatingly condescending.

“asshole.”, you mutter as he chuckled, staring up at you with adoration and lust.

he sinks in his ring finger right next to his middle, fitting snuggly as he picks up his pace while attaching his lips against your clit.

your legs shake with the overwhelming pleasure, your mouth letting out uneven breaths and shaky moans while your hands clutch the bedsheets beneath you.

he never stops his pace, the veins in his arms prominent, continuing to abuse your g-spot.

“wait- wait. fuck.”, you moan out, your brows furrowing as you feel the pleasure start to build up in your stomach, so desperately trying to hold on, “i’m gonna-”

you cut yourself off with your own moan, “yeah? cum for me, baby, fuck. let me see you.”

you arch your back as you feel the intense pleasure hit you like a bomb, throwing your head back while gripping onto sae’s forearm, your legs instinctively wrapping around his shoulder’s as they shake with vigor.

suddenly, you feel a splash of liquid ricochet off sae and onto your thighs, looking down to see you had squirted all over this man’s face and chest.

“my god, i don’t..”, you pause, breathlessly, “i’ve never done that before.”

“yeah?”, he he hums, to which you nod weakly, your head falling back from exhaustion.

he smiles at himself, so obviously smug.

sae had cleaned you up after being so adamant he didn’t want anything else from you tonight, satisfied with just making you feel good.

he was more attentive than you could’ve imagined, running you a warm shower while he got you both some snacks from his kitchen. then putting on a movie for you both while cuddling on his bed, the covers over you both as you get closer and closer to drifting off to sleep.

tracing small patterns on your skin, he asks, “you feeling okay?”

“mhm.”, you pause, “i feel really good.”, you smile at him.

“good, i’m glad. i felt like i owed this to you.”

you half lidded eyes open, confused, “what do you mean?”

“i just feel like ive been a bit.. dickish, with you recently.”, he shrugs.

you hum, leaning your head further into his bare chest, “so you felt like you had to please me sexually?”, you joke.

“i mean, i guess, i don’t really know how to explain it.”, he sounds unsure.

you raise your head to look at his face, “do you wanna try?”

“well, i’m not usually liked for my personality, just what im good at.”, he pauses, trying to word it for you, “sorry, i’m not good at this kinda stuff, talking about how i feel.”

you nod understandingly, “i don’t wanna rush you, but im here to listen.”

he doesn’t say anything, moving his hand to play with your hair, “you’re definitely way too good for me.”

“i don’t think that’s true.”

“it is. i don’t wanna fuck this up with you.”

“you won’t, as long as you’re honest with me.”

“i can definitely do that.”, he mumbles into your shoulder, placing a soft kiss on it.

“then there’s nothing you need to be worrying about.”, you reassure.

he hums at your words, “give me a kiss.”

and of course, you obliged.

navigation. heartbreak summer

next chapter. 12

author’s note. this is the first smut i’ve wrote in years LOL so be nice guys, sorry this took me longer than usual to get out it just has way more writing than usual and i’ve lowkey been having writers block w this story, i think after this chapter i’m going to focus on virtually yours as it’s only going to be 15 chapters long, but after that heartbreak summer will have my full attention 🫶🏻

taglist: @vaelils @shironagi @megumiivs @captainshindo @evry1luvssm @alatusorrow @pookalicious-hq @gigiiiiislife @tnt-kokoo @misosoupii @whisperofae @bontensbabygirl @s4-mmy @viviinpt @werfiedeii @dinnersyummy @sccubss @nuhahani @treeguzzler @pctterheadd @taefanclub @literallyushiwaka @yiiscorner @suksatoru @manjiroswifo @sugacor3 @kaz-0e @rinniebinniebay @heartcam @arwawawa2 @sharks-3 @saeishiro @ira-in-ink (open)

[kiragecko]

tepat-side asked in DECEMBER:

The h in balahm - is it actually [h] or would it be a glottalized vowel?

I had to do some further research, because it's something I've struggled with.

Classic Maya might have had 4 different types of vowels:

V - a short vowel

VV - Vː, a long vowel

V', V'V -a vowel with a glottal stop. Sometimes the glottal stop breaks up the vowel, sometimes it doesn't and comes directly before the following consonant, or at the end of the word.

Vh - an aspirated vowel?

After reading about 15 articles, and 2 dozen descriptions of modern Maya languages, the best description I can find is from "A Grammatical Description of the Early Classic Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions", by Daniel A. Law, talking about 'h' being infixed into passive transitive roots:

Because of its proximity to the vowel nucleus, this infix has also been analyzed for Ch’olan languages as an aspirated quality on the vowel, rather than a separate phoneme (see Coon, 2004 for this analysis with Ch’ol).

But, Tepat, EVERYBODY ELSE is just saying it's an 'h' and moving on! And this is only about a specific verbal infix! I'm assuming it's also the same for other uses of 'h' as part of the vowel nucleus, but I DON'T KNOW. They won't tell me :( :(

-

Anyways, 'h' OUTSIDE of the vowel nucleus is a proper glottal fricative (/h/), which merged with 'j' (the velar fricative /x/) by the late (or even Middle?) classic period.

-

And they used to think that complex nuclei (VV, V', and Vh) were indicated by mismatched vowels in your root, for ex. writing 'Chahk' as 'cha-ki'. But now they've got all sorts of ideas about underspelled liquids ('cha-ki' being 'Chak-il') or 'i's marking present tense verbs ('cha-ki' being 'Chak-i'). Everybody is arguing and it's fun and confusing.

But I have no clue what that means for all the complex vowel nuclei. Very few, if any, modern Maya languages have a four way division like people reconstructed for Classic Maya. Did we overcomplicate things? Did they exist, but they weren't indicated in the spelling? Were these final vowels doing multiple things?

Come back in a decade, and we might know!

(Or maybe the article is already out, and I just haven't found it yet!)

The Tiger Poem in Classical Maya!

The Tiger He has destroyed his cage Yes Yes The tiger is out By Nael, Age 6

Literal translation:

he-destroyed his-captive-place the-jaguar yes-yes he-came.out the-jaguar his-writing master-Na'el man[of]-6-years

Transliteration:

ʔu-jomow ʔu-baaknal ʔu-balahm xt xt Joyoy ʔu-balahm ʔu-tz'ibaal Aj-Naʔel Aj-6-habiy

Character Transliteration (ALL CAPS are characters that stand for full words, lower case are syllabic):

ʔu-jo-mo-wa ʔu-ba-ki-NAL ʔu-BALAM-la-ma xa-ta-xa-ta jo-JOY-yi ʔu-BALAM-ma ʔu-tz'i-ba-li AJ-na-ʔe-le AJ-6-HAB-bi-ya

[Image shows the poem written in 2 columns of Maya glyph blocks. A diagram shows the reading order (which is complex). All the posts text is also included on the image.

End ID.]

[promiscuousg1rl]

dealer!rafe and stripper!reader meeting for the first time

warnings: vulgar language, rafe being a strip club virgin, inaccurate portrayal of strip club atmosphere, brief talk of ass shaking

"you tellin' me you ain't none of your bitch ass friends took you to a strip club befo'? barry looks up at rafe with a pair of wide eyes, shaking his head. "that shit is sad man, all that money and you ain't never made it rain on no strippas."

rafe chuckles as they make their away across the crowded parking lot. hands tucked in the pockets on his khaki pants. "what can I say man, the place never interested me before."

"what?" barry frowns in confusion. "beautiful women shaking they ass and titties in yo' face don't interest you?"

shrugging, rafe stares up at the sign that read Magic City Gentlemen's Club. "never been in one to know for sure."

"well country cub, i'm 'bout to show you exactly what you and them soft ass rich boys been missing out on." barry smirks, slapping rafe's chest before leading him through the double doors.

although the parking lot was evidence for how packed the place was, it still was a bit shocking to see just how many people were in attendance. if they weren't standing at the bar being serviced by the bartenders then they were surrounding the stages, salivating over the half naked women they were showering with dollar bills.

a part of him expected to only see Pogues in the likes of this place but as he looked around he recognized a bunch of men who were not only country club members, but associates of his father too.

"aight now," barry claps his hands together. "while it is a lot of bad bitches innis place to choose from, ima do you a favor and get you hooked up with my favorite one."

scoffing, rafe glances around at the various scantily clad women leading men around by the hand. "been here so much you actually have a favorite?"

"aye man, don't knock it until you see her. trust me, she got the potential to make you spend all ya money on her and go broke."

looking around eagerly, barry's eyes frantically scoured the dark club until the stop on a spot across the room. "lo and behold," he grins. "aye angel!"

rafe follows his gaze, there you are. he has no idea if that was your real name or if barry calling you that had anything to do with the pure white lingerie outfit you were wearing. his eyes trail down from your soft curls to the curves of your exposed body.

"from the looka' that drool goin' down ya chin, you see the hype." barry snickers from beside him, making rafe shove his shoulder. "angel!"

at the second shout of your name you finally look over at barry, a bright smile gracing your gloss-covered lips. on the tallest heels he's ever seen, you saunter over to them with your hips swaying.

"barry," you bat your eyelashes at him. "made some good sales today?"

barry smirks at you, stepping so close that your chest nearly touches his. "you know I like to come spend a lil sumn sumn on you and your girls when I got it."

you hum, lips stretching into an even wider smile. "i'll let them know to make it good for you tonight then." as if you're barely noticing him hovering a few inches away, your eyes meet rafe's with a curious glint in them. "who's this?"

"angel, this here is my homeboy and business partner country club," leading you over by the hand. "country club, this is angel."

much like he did you, your eyes survey him from head to toe. the way you spend a few seconds too long on his pants has him fighting off the urge to fidget.

you huff out a laugh. "thought you said kooks were only good for being customers."

"what can i say, we make good money together."

gently easing your hand out of barry's, you angle your body towards rafe's. his brooding silence making him all the more appealing to you.

"you a first timer country club?"

" 'that obvious?" he drawls out.

you shrug. "trust me, i would remember a face like yours."

"huh."

"so," your eyes don't leave his. "who's going first?"

your heels are the only reason you can see the way his pupils dilate and you come to a quick realization that you hope that its him.

a throat clears from beside the two of you, making you look over a barry. "well i hyped you up to my boy so i'ma gone and let you show him wassup."

with that, he strolls over to one of the other dancers lingering around and leans down to whisper in her hear.

"well country club--"

"rafe," he interrupts. " 'name's rafe."

"rafe," you purr, resting a hand on the center of his chest. "you ready?"

"lead the way angel."

a/n this was so rushed but fuck it we ball 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[mourndust]

hi hi hiiiii! this is my first time publishing in tumblr! english is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes, either way i've doubled checked so hope there's not many around! be kind and tell me what you think about it! reblogs and likes are always welcome. minors dni wlw content, good old finger-fuck that never fails, oral sex, spit.

it’s meaningless at first.

you don’t pay much attention to her. she’s in the corner of your eye but you’re too busy flirting, fighting your way to get a free drink since you refuse to pay for one but she’s there. you saw her fighting hours ago, and you know she’s looking.

it’s meaningless. a silent invitation that caught you off-guard cause fuck, you’re drinking a beer in peace and why the hell would anyone bug you? either way you recognize her before she’s even talking to you, a light scent of alcohol mixed up with sweat that has everything to be nasty, yet, somehow, it’s almost nice when she sits in the stool next to you.

it fills the air. surrounds you in a cloud of haze cause hell she’s good at making you pay attention, at noticing she’s there, closer.

“vi,” she says introducing herself, and it makes sense later why you’re locked up in the bathroom, why exactly you folded so fast — always so needy, so eager to please the rest—. “nice to meet you.”

she points out some shit about seeing you around in the pit-hole, how you’re always unfazed by the place, always pretty, always unavailable, and she’s getting you, caught you in her bare hands cause you don’t know why you’re letting her follow you to the bathroom like a lost puppy, but it’s good cause you want it, as soon as her magenta hues touch your bare fingers and she’s laughing, making the most amazing sound you’ve heard in a while, you’re all in.

you crave casual. can someone blame you? world’s crazy out there, and you don’t really do it commonly but man — you just want to have fun with her, commit to the strange magnetism that connects you every night to this girl. so you let her do it, let her rough hands lock the door, roam over your sides as she ends wirh the space left between you and her own body.

it’s nice. tuesdays are slow, not many people gamble around so the place is not really crowded, and it’s even refreshing when she pushes her knee between your legs like she didnt know it was fucking heaven, lifting you up to the counter as she relish on the taste of kissing you, god — her kisses are soft even when there’s a certain sloppiness lingered to them, some roughness she tries to keep in line but slips away for the moment, demanding and demanding as she got lost in the sensation, the smell of your perfume, that shampoo you liked and began using religiously.

can you blame violet too? fuck. caitlyn’s been fucking up her life since she went full weirdo mode and stop talking thanks to the thirst of revenge, and vi’s been having so much in her life lately she just need to pull the switch down in her brain, shut it off at least for twenty minutes and not depend on the amount of booze she’s lately depending on, actual human touch.

so you? you are similar to an oasis in plain dessert.

“there you go, so good for just a few kisses,” vi points out to praise the way your hips move seeking for a bit more friction, driving her insane as the fabric of your jeans rub against the black pants of the fighter—. “help me get you out of this.”

violet’s a force of nature, crawling under your skin as her bandaged hands struggle with the button of your jeans, taking a second or two to actually get you out of the thick fabric that’s only annoying her. the contact of her skin soothes the sting of pure need and she has the audacity of taking time, alluring as she places soft kisses over the crook of your neck like she’s really imprinting the curves of your body in her memories, the soft and smooth flesh that you posses, the moles and that tiny underwear that only fuels her desire to keep taking what she wants.

surely vi thrives on making you a mess, talks a lot a when your brain becomes a pile of erratic thoughts. the music is so loud outside you can hear the bass bouncing on the walls, making them shake as the air is filled by the sound of your moans, the way the fighter’s mouth sucks on your skin only to leave red marks she hopes to see on the next days in the pit.

"fuck's sake," she says looking at the slick mark on her jeans — "you made a mess on my knee-" it's noticiable when she point it out, the fabric is slightly darker on the zone and it was visible when you put some attention to it — "how are you going to fix this huh? it's your mess, your problem."

clearly she’s all bark and bite.

"talk baby, you can do it. i'm not even fucking you yet," she demands when you're too zoned out to say something. "tell me how are you going to fix the mess you made on my knee."

"don't care" you answer soon after. "i'll think of something after- please vi."

your voice is rough, raspy by the delicious sounds you make when she's spreading you open, using a hand to keep you steady over the sink as she raises your shirt from over your chest.

“after? after what?”

she kneads one of your breasts in her hand, squeezing the bare flesh before taking it in her mouth, the warm sensation spreading all over your spine: formalities are now left aside to let over that primal need take over, so you're pulling her poorly-dyed black hair closer, even when she bites and uses her tongue as a method to make the sting hurt less, moving to one breast to another — you just want her as possibly close.

and your jeans are hanging in the air holding by one leg only, black paint smeared on your tummy as her kisses now become more desperate, careless about their repercussions or what they stained as her mouth seems to follow this invisible path back to your cunt.

she's good at teasing, make you work for it, whispering praises all over your skin like she's not even close to have all that she wants with you in that hot bathroom. the fighter kneels only to be more comfortable, using her hands to spread you open, tasting you from over your underwear — only to have a taste and mainly, because the fabric there it's almost non-existent: mental kudos to you.

you've become a teenage boy at that point. driven by words and gentle touches, the flick of her tongue as she moves eagerly travelling from your aching hole to your clit, casually rubbing the tip of her nose as she delves deeper, pulling your underwear to the side when she hears you say some erratic words of praising: she needs validation.

the fighter don't have to spit, but she does it anyway, soaking up her own fingers with saliva like they aren't already soaked with your arousal, hooking up her thumb in your entrance to stretch you out, moving it back and forth in almost a cruel, sweet torture, almost making sure you're going to beg to be filled at some point, all needy and pliable only cause you need her fingers inside.

"can you lift up your leg?" vi knows it's a greedy question, but she says it anyways in hope you'll comply, and you clearly do when you're clinging in the sink, trying to not lose balance when one leg stays in the floor and the other one is holded over the fighter's shoulder, the cold leather of her jacket pressing against your tight as you rest it over her back—. "good girl, you okay there?"

the wet sounds her mouth do left you nothing but stupid, her half lidded eyes following every involuntary movement your body makes as she moves between your soaked folds: how much is going to take for you to cum all over her face? soak her lips with the prettiest lip gloss?

"vi..." she knows what you're whining for, the pleaded tone that stained your words. she's hoping to be the cure of all your aches, comply every little thing you ask for. her fingers fill your core, sucking them in as you clench around the intrusion, and fuck. fuck it's just what you needed, the way they curl all the way in, rubbing on that nice spot she wastes no time in finding.

how can a fucking hand feel this good? makes your brain melt as your hips move in search of release, lost in the lewd sounds of your cunt, the way she find a way to comfortably eat you like a regular meal, how you shake and move against her mouth and that faces. violet’s been looking at all since she decided to put her damn knees on that filthy ass floor.

she gets off by your orgasm pouring in.

fucking soaked in her pants as she helps you ride the tidal waves that pours over you, that shake your body and makes you weak in the knees, struggling to keep on your feet as vi holds you still. and oh how she loves it. loves how she made a mess out of you, how she fucked up your defenses like they were nothing, and fuck it’s so nice.

she kisses your stomach, the marks she made before now red against her teeth, tracing up a path of kisses back to your mouth, cause she simply cannot get enough, she’s ready to keep going, take more if she wasn’t in a dirty bathroom.

your breathing is still heavy as you get off the sink, vi’s hand still on your hips as she pulls you closer, stealing a kiss that in contrast, is nothing but slow and fucking hot — and you wonder, by a whole damn minute, how the fuck is she so good at everything? kissing, teasing, touching, eating pussy-

“get your pants off,” you say, looking back at the stain on her knee with crimson cheeks—. “you cannot go out looking like that.”

violet tilts her head slightly backwards as the sound of her laugh fills the bathroom walls, shaking her head in disapproval — “it’s not really necessary. kinda like having a reminder of you.”

it’s a great tuesday, yeah that’s for sure.

so it’s not weird at all when it becomes usual the rest of the week.

[anim-ttrpgs]

I think one of the reasons that Eureka needs to have crunchy (but fast, I can’t stress enough these are over fast) combat rules is because it is such a grounded, “realistic” setting. All of the successes of the PCs are real and not just because they’re PCs or because the GM forced their success.

At the same time, since this is so unusual for TTRPG play, even in TTRPGs where the rules-as-written don’t support plot armor, it’s kind of hard to explain to people. It’s almost like gleeblor trying to talk about something amazing a PC pulled off because of their skills and cleverness and have people NOT roll their eyes and say “whatever, the GM just let it happen.”

When Yvette Preux, armed with two pistols, waited quietly behind the door at the top of he stairs for the eight armed gangsters to come up and then surprised them by shooting six shots through the door, sidestepped so they wouldn’t know where she was when they started shooting back blindly, then fired six more shots, ultimately killing or incapacitating all of them, every step of that was mediated by the rules, and every single one of those gangsters could’ve put her down in a single Action if she had let them. The GM is following the rules, which say what the NPCs can and can’t do just like the PCs. To me that’s what’s special about TTRPGs(if played by the rules) as opposed to freeform RP or writing a novel. A smart plan succeeds because it is actually a smart plan, not because it’s a dumb plan and the author just wants it to succeed. A good author can tell a story where a smart plan succeeds because it’s a smart plan, but a TTRPG goes step by step and has the math to prove it.

This post went way beyond the original point I was trying to make but whatever. Buy Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. It’s good.

[balkanradfem]

I wrote this post in a word document, and I named this document 'not got stabbed yet', so that's the theme today.

I mentioned someone was slashing my bike tyres in the park, and it happened two times in 4 days. I thought, you know, crazy park person was after me, and I need to stop going to the park with a bike, if I want to avoid this.

However, something else happened next. Something that truly chilled me. My bike tyre was slashed the day after, and I hadn't been to the park that day. Not even close. I've been to work, and then visited a store, for 5 minutes. Someone found my bike and slashed it either at my workplace, or at the store. Someone had to follow me to find it there. Someone knew where I worked and shopped.

The tyre had a very small hole, so it deflated very slowly, and I only realized it was flat after I got home. I didn't know whether it was slashed while I was at work, or at the store. I took the tube out to check it out, found no thorn or any natural signs of damage, and called the police again. I wanted to know if there was more reports of this happening.

This time I was in luck and got to talk to a police woman! So I was happy, and I was able to share more details, such as where, when, how many times it happened, she was willing to hear me out. However, she did not take it seriously. She told me somebody probably got offended that I parked my bike at the park, because it is 'the park', so they wanted me to stop leaving it there, and since the third time hole was so tiny, it was possible I just ran into a thorn. I allowed that it could not be ruled out, but it was incredibly unlikely since I was only riding it directly on the street, not any grass or branches, and I did not find a thorn inside of the tyre. Usually when I do run on a thorn, it will get stuck in the outer tyre.

I explained I was worried about being followed, and legitimately scared of going to work next day, but she said I can't shut myself in, I shouldn't be scared, I shouldn't let someone know they've managed to unnerve me with this! And I'm facepalming, thinking, what kind of girl power is this? Is a stalker gonna quit if the victim is not unnerved enough? Wouldn't that inspire them to escalate behaviour? I sighed and thanked her for listening to me.

There were no other reports, she couldn't even tell me if it happened before at all to anyone. I looked up online if there were records of it happening to anyone, anywhere, but only articles I could find were about mass slashing on one location, like one person slashing 30 bikes at once. It was never about just one person having it happen repeatedly.

I was thinking about what was the point of this, and decided if it's not a crazy revenge for something (and I don't know what, I don't have beef with anyone in the entire city), it has to  be to stop me from using my bike. So I would have to walk. And be much slower. Much more easy to follow. And apparently I was already followed, if they managed to find my bike at my workplace. I was scared to go to work again.

To make things more interesting, I was at that point reading 'Career of Evil', which is jkr's book about a serial killer who stalks and murders women, and some of the book was written from the killer's perspective. This part helped me, because it revealed how it could actually be a bit difficult to attack a woman if she's only walking trough public places with people around, refusing to be out at night, refusing to go into dark alleyways or overcrowded bars and dance clubs. He couldn't do it out in daylight where there were witnesses. I had to stop and think whether this book logic could translate to real life, and if this holds out in reality. Can I protect myself just by being in open public spaces, in front of witnesses? Can I be sure I won't get stabbed if I stick to these rules? And I figured, yeah, that actually tracks, nobody will stab me in front of witnesses. And if I'm on my bike, it's harder to catch me. As long as I can quickly repair my bike every time and use it to get around, I should be safer than walking.

But I still felt unnerved about being followed, so I decided to go to work in a disguise. It was a different location and I didn't want to be followed there. I put together a jacket that was a different color than my usual one, put on a wig, different shoes, pants; it was obviously mismatched upon a close look, but if you saw me zooming by on a bike, you couldn't tell it was me.

Next morning, I nervously entered the workplace all costumed up, and people thought I was pulling a funny prank on them and were delighted. They insisted I stay in my new getup to show me to more people to get a laugh. They acted like it was the most fun thing I ever did. I played along, thinking how this is a convenient reaction, because I didn't want to take the disguise off immediately, for the chance that I'm still followed.

Later they asked me why am I in a mascarade, and I explained what happened. They then confirmed I'm definitely being followed, and started listing all cases where a woman got stabbed jogging or walking outside, which was just great to hear.

My bike remained whole that day, and I got home in my disguise safely as well. Now the question remained – do I stay home scared to go out all day? Do I just go around in a disguise everywhere? I needed to know why this was happening to me. And I felt sick of being scared and agoraphobic. So I made up a plan.

*

Later that same day, I went out with my bike in my usual outfit, bright and noticeable jacket, and my laptop in my hands. I went to the park. I carefully tied my bike behind where I was sitting, and opened up my laptop, which had a bit of tape covering the light from the camera. I was filming the bike with my webcam while I was on the laptop. It was almost obvious what I was doing, from the way I was sitting and leaning, but I was there to find out whether the tubestabby was a freaking idiot or not. Either he would fall for the trap, stab my tyre, get caught on camera, and I would know who did it. Or, he would do nothing while it's being filmed, and I could sit in the park, and do whatever I wanted to, safely.

My bike was fine half an hour later when I headed home, and I then had to review the footage, to see if anything happened. Bike was on camera the entire time, nobody came close to it, but also I was on camera, and while I was reviewing it, I had the crazy experience on seeing how my own face looks while I'm online, reading messages, scrolling trough tumblr. At first all I could see were my eyes moving left to right rapidly, I was speed reading, looking all scared and nervous because I did expose myself to a possible stalker and I was not having a good time. But as time went on, I saw myself breaking into smiles, because I had read something funny, and by the end of it I was just grinning and laughing, the internet humor broke trough my nerves and made me forget the fear. Tumblr is okay.

I was satisfied. I had been to the park, I wasn't stabbed, my bike was not damaged, and if I kept this up, I could be in the park and be safe by the means of obviously recording the bike. I can't do it at night time, as my webcam will not pick up a picture in the dark.

I'm not that spooked out anymore, I was freaked out when my bike was slashed the third time, and not even in the park. It is still scary that it's happening to me only, and I'm not targeted randomly among other people. And that it happened on a different location that nobody should have known I'd be on. If I catch the culprit it will take effort not to try and fight him immediately, because I am truly weak due to my impinged nerve and that guy has a sharp object. But he is a coward, destroying my stuff behind my back, never facing me and telling me what his problem is. I refuse to be scared of a coward with a sharp object.

[iscdisc]

Anyone who's familiar with my content on Insta / TikTok most likely already knows about this theory (But I guess you could consider it an AU of sorts??) that I have with 2012 Donatello post, "The Power Inside Her" (And yes, the only reason why I drew this / am talking about this is because of my previous post about Za-Naron, okay- Lmao) ! But because I haven't brought this to Tumblr, I'm talking about it again- 👍✨

Before I get into it, I want to preface this whole thing by saying that I fully acknowledge that this all could just be writing issues / faults with the writers and their lack of properly explaining anything or giving prior context to certain relationships / dynamics. I just want to get that out of the way immediately, since I understand some people brushing these things off as one of 2012's many notorious writing issues-

BUT.

I wholeheartedly believe that it's entirely possible that the Donatello we follow after the events of, "The Power Inside Her" is not actually the real Donatello at all and the real Donatello that we have been following before this episode legitimately perished. And let me explain why I say this- 👀

First of all, I want to establish some foundation for this possibility by pointing us in the direction of the episode, "Bat in the Belfry". During this episode, Mikey (Alongside Casey-) end up giving Wingnut and Screwloose temporary sentient life (With this only being temporary given the events of the episode-). Wingnut and Screwloose are previously established in this episode to be comic book characters / fictional characters, they were never real to begin with. Yet despite the fact that they have no prior existence physically or in any capacity of reality, the Aeon's power (Za-Naron's power-) was able to fully give them life and an established sense of self. We see throughout the episode that Wingnut and Screwloose fully believe that they're alive and well, not understanding when Mikey and Casey constantly try to inform them that they are just comic book characters and aren't actually real the way that they perceive themselves to be real. We also see the Aeon crystal / Za-Naron give sentient life to one of the villains from the same comic (Which is why I included a picture of that as well-), and we too can see that this villain acknowledges its existence, since it carries out it's normal activities as if nothing is strange about its situation at all.

I'm laying this as the foundation for this theory, because my main point with bringing this up is that the "fake" (you could say) Donatello would have no reason to question his existence or believe that he is not who he is. You know what I mean?

Another reason why I believe "fake" Donnie wouldn't question his existence is because the Aeon Crystal doesn't exist anymore by the time he comes into the picture "once again", which is another point that I'm going to get into right now.

The only reason why Wingnut and Screwloose became aware of their predicament / fully accepted the fact that they weren't real is because they were exposed to the crystal and its seemingly overwhelming energy. As you can see in the picture I provided, they became very distorted and deranged after being exposed to this. But with this "fake" Donatello, there's nothing Aeon related for him to be exposed to.

During the last minutes of, "The Power Inside Her", we see April use what was left of the crystal (Since she had broken it prior as a means of freeing Za-Naron / freeing herself from Za-Naron's control-) to bring Donnie back into existence. But that's exactly why I have this theory?? Not only is bringing somebody back to life an almost impossible feat, even for April (Which I know the show says that Donnie was simply molecularly scattered and not actually GONE gone, but I don't buy that for a second / I feel like they only said that to make the situation a little more "kid friendly". in my opinion, that dude perished, okay. LMAO), but I don't even think that the Aeons abilities are even capable of something like that. Returning life or performing resurrection is such a complicated issue, and I feel like the Aeons themselves would acknowledge that it's not as simple as just "bringing somebody back".

So because I don't think this is something that falls under the scope of what Aeons are genuinely capable of doing, on top of the fact that we've seen the crystal give sentient life to things that technically did not exist before this episode, I fully believe that the Donnie that we see get "brought back to life" by April is not actually him- Instead, this is a physical manifestation of how April remembers him being or essentially a Donnie that was "created" from her memories of him / experiences with him.

Point number three as to why I think this is not the real Donnie and instead of "fake" Donnie. April's relationship with Donatello drastically changes after this episode (At least, in my opinion-). Going back to when she "brought Donnie back to life", I wouldn't be surprised if she was envisioning all of the more positive interactions that she's had with him in the past and a lot of the attributes that she enjoyed from him, rather than the negative ones (i.e. Him disrespecting her boundaries a lot, him disrespecting her autonomy as a person, him stalking her, him constantly getting in between her and other people /primarily Casey but I digress- /, him feeling entitled to her as a person, him giving her pet names that made her uncomfortable and she clearly expressed that / Which this is kind of a niche example, but during one of the Xbox / PS3 videogame titles for this series, there's a dialogue cutscene where Donnie calls her his, "Chinchilla" for the first time I think?? But April very clearly expressed discomfort with that and asked him not to say that about her. Which it really pisses me off that he does it again in Season 3 when she's UNCONSCIOUS, and this game came out either during Season 1 or when Season 2 was airing- Like it's an old game. 💀 /, etc.), especially given that what caused her to break free from Za-Naron's control was Raph telling April to remember Donnie. During that montage, there were a lot of happier moments with Donatello.

I don't think it would be far-fetched to say that she essentially created her "perfect" or ideal version of him as a person-?? And I feel like this is heavily reflected through their dynamic post this episode.

April's not off-putted by some of his kind / caring gestures (Like the image example I provided above, such as him putting his hand on her back-).

During moments of intense grieving and stress, Donatello is giving her space and not hovering around her like he was more prone to doing in the past (In my opinion-).

Instead of it feeling incredibly forced by the writers, April being in close proximity to Donnie feels like a choice she's actively making or okay with. Prior to this, (to me) it felt like the writers would just put April in the same space as Donnie simply because they were pushing this romantic narrative between them. The numerous times that Donnie would have April in his lab during Seasons 1-2 gave off a vibe like he either pressured her to be there or it just felt difficult for her to decline-? Especially since there was a lot going on with her Father during both of these Seasons, and instead of that feeling like a reason she would want to be there on her own, it felt like an excuse to force her to be there- Does that make sense? Not to mention Donnie always being by her side coming across like he was crowding April instead of her actively wanting him there.

Donnie is more actively giving April her space at the same time too / not reacting when Casey is in closer proximity to her than himself. I'm not saying that this technically didn't occur before the aftermath of, "The Power Inside Her", but it just feels different now- I don't know how else to explain that.

I'm telling you right now, this moment from, "When World's Collide (Part 1)" is the first time I've seen them on screen acting this way. There has never been a moment like this one before, where April is joking around and laughing with Donnie and just being overall silly?? 2012 has never done something like this with these two on screen.

All of these instances lead me to believe that April (unintentionally) created her most ideal version of Donatello as a person. Taking away all the things that she didn't like or (rightfully) felt uncomfortable by, and only leaving the characteristics that she did enjoy about him. Which would obviously result in her having a much healthier / drastically improved dynamic with him moving forward.

There's also was only one moment that I feel Donnie was "weird" towards April again like he was in the past, but it didn't last long at all and it only happened once during Season 5 ("The Curse of Savanti Romero"-).

Another thing that I feel supports this theory is his relationship with Casey. From Season 3 to 4, it really felt like Donnie and Casey were forming a much better dynamic / their friendship had a steady progression. Sure, Donnie would still get annoyed with Casey from time to time, but it felt obvious that he viewed Casey as more of a friend / ally than a rival / "threat". Casey would also actively go out of his way to be around Donnie physically more, which I feel was a good sign of their friendship moving in a more positive direction. But then we get to "Tokka vs. The World", which takes place almost immediately after the events of, "The Power Inside Her" and it suddenly feels like Donnie's friendship progression with Casey just vanishes-?? Their dynamic feels like they're back in Season 2 again, minus the constant arguing about April (At least, from Donnie's perspective-).

A lot of the moments that we get with them during Season 5 kind of reinforce this for me. Donnie's reaction to Casey suggesting they get their hands on a couple of tanks during, "Scroll of the Demodragon", Donnie and Casey essentially arguing about how to deal with Kavaxas during, "The Forgotten Swordsman", Donnie's response to Casey in regards to his ghostbuster rip off inventions and how Donnie went out of his way to say everyone will get one except Casey during, "End Times"- Like, it really does feel as if their relationship regressed after the events of, "The Power Inside Her"- And while that does upset me, since as you all probably know by now I love those two to death, it does make complete sense in relation to this theory of this Donatello being "fake".

All of the progress and dynamic / friendship development Donnie and Casey went through? April was not privy to that. Like, at all. If my theory holds up and April did (unintentionally) "create" or manifest a version of Donatello from her memories of him using the remaining power of the Aeon crystal, then it would absolutely make sense why Donnie is treating Casey the way that he is during Season 5. I'm not saying that April didn't notice or acknowledge that they had a better relationship before the events of, "The Power Inside Her" happened, but she didn't know where that better relationship came from. So if April doesn't know, then obviously the Donnie that she (unintentionally) "created" wouldn't know either- Therefore, there wouldn't be a reason for him to have a better relationship with Casey / there would be no reason why he wouldn't continue viewing him in a similar way to how he did during Season 2. AKA, when he first met him / when Casey first came into their lives.

There are other parts of this theory that are definitely more speculative on my part, such as Donnie not having any memories of events that April wasn't there for- So for example, if the brothers are reminiscing about the Mousers predicament from Season 1 (for example), the "fake" Donnie would be confused and not know what they're talking about because April wasn't aware of that situation / probably only heard it through word of mouth if anything- Clearly nothing like this happened in late Season 4 to early Season 5 to support that kind of thing, but there also isn't any evidence to disprove it either. I just think it would be interesting for that to be one of the biggest tells as far as everyone else having their doubts about whether or not the Donatello they see before them is actually the legitimate one-!

This theory also makes me really sad as far as Casey and Donnie goes, because it really does feel like Donnie had to sacrifice one developing friendship for another. Like sure, his dynamic with Casey is all fucked up. but at least he has a better one with April now- 💀 Lmao || There could totally be some holes in this theory, I'm not going to deny that ! But so far, I think it kind of holds up and I just thought I'd share that today- 👍✨ Lmao

(There were so many more screenshot examples that I wanted to give, but I didn't know you can only include 10 pictures in a post- 😭)

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello, I hope you're having a wonderful day so far! I was wondering if you had any general fluff with Candy or Terrors, I love your take on them and they make me smile every time. Maybe just silly little moments or cute accidents.

(have a good day and remember to drink water!!)

I hope you enjoy the fluff! I gave you both of them because I like writing soft stuff for both of them :)) There's a single romantic moment but I followed it up with a platonic alternative, so whether you'd like to view this as platonic or not is up to you when it comes to the bits with your involvement :)

This popped into my head when I first saw this request, but I feel like sometimes Terrors pretends to be Candy, but like, not on purpose. While their general demeanor and voices are different, sometimes I feel like when Terrors is really relaxed he seems a bit more similar to Candy, and people might mistake him for Candy. This leads to incidents where someone will run up to Terrors and either like, high-five him, maybe try and hug him, or update him on something, before going about their day, and Terrors just accepts it, making his best impression of Candy (which is actually quite good), because he's too embarrassed to admit that he accepted a high five from someone. The only people who can tell whether it's Candy or Terrors from a glance alone are you, LJ, Jason, and Slender. Nobody who has mistaken Terrors for Candy knows they've done so because Terrors would rather die than have someone be aware they treated him so casually. Terrors absolutely whines to you about it because he can't stew in his embarrassment alone.

I feel like after the last couple hundred years Candy and Terrors have gotten to a point where they *kind of* value each other's feelings, and so, in a moment of fluff for each other, they take each other's likes and dislikes into account. I feel like they have designated times scheduled for when they'll switch with each other, so for example, if one of them knows the other will be out for dinner, but a food they don't like is going to be the main dish, they'll request for something else to be made alongside it so that they can have something to eat. Slender was quite confused the first time Terrors walked up to him and was like, "Ah, could you prepare an additional side dish for this? Candy quite dislikes this meal." very bluntly before walking away. Slender was SO confused and shook, but he absolutely did so. Candy has more tact and is usually like, "Hey, you know what goes good with this??" and starts suggesting other things to be made with it, rather than outing Terrors for not liking specific foods. It's one of the few ways they're kind to each other. Part of it that neither of them will mention though is that, considering they share the same mind, they don't want to have to keep listening to each other complaining about the same dislikes after all these years.

I mentioned before that you are one of the only people who know who's who just by looking at them, but I feel like it would be a bit silly if every now and then you tease them and say the wrong person. If you "accidentally" call Candy 'Terrors' he gets so dramatic about it, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, dramatically swaying back and forth, saying, "I cannot BELIEVE you could do this to me, oh my GOODNESS, what have I done to deserve this, how could you possibly mistake me for another?!" He'll just ramble on and on, and the only way to get him to stop is to somehow maneuver yourself up to his face and cover it in kisses, in which case he'll forgive you and say it's alright unless you'd like the more platonic route, which is apologizing just as dramatically as he's being. If you refer to Terrors as 'Candy', he looks SO aghast at you. I'm talking mouth hanging open, hand on his chest, eyebrows quirked up in disbelief, saying, "Well I NEVER! I would have believed that by now you'd know me better, but I suppose I was wrong, wasn't I? For you to betray me in such a way! I could not have seen this coming-!" He's being a bit silly because with the giggles you're poorly concealing it was obvious you were teasing him, but he makes you repay him by doing him "favors" like getting him (and yourself) a drink, and turning on his (and your) favorite music in the background, and you know, telling him about your day, and about your plans and, oh? This is just what you were going to be doing with him anyway? But of course! Your repayment is simply spending time with him, just as you were meant to because that's the best repayment you could ever give him.

[kaiyunsim]

just a boy —

pairing : fuckboy!jay x gn!reader

summary : you meet jay at a party where you reject him after making a move… he likes it when they play hard to get.

warnings : angst, fluff, more angst than fluff tbh, uni au, reader is a freshman, jay is older, featuring heeseung + jake, jisung from nct, and minju from illit

a/n : omg fun to write is actually an understatement. i hope it turned out fun to read :) also for my pookie @writhyv

queueing : just a boy - alaina castillo,

— wc : 6.6 — not proof read —

you don't really care about parties. they're loud, crowded, and always filled with people trying too hard. but minju drags you along anyway, insisting that you need to "experience the university nightlife" at least once.

"come on, it'll be fun," she says, looping her arm through yours. "plus, jisung bailed on me, and i am not third-wheeling jake and his situationship all night."

so now you're here, standing awkwardly in the corner of a frat house, gripping a red solo cup filled with something that smells suspiciously like gasoline. minju is already off somewhere, talking to a girl from her english class, and you're left to watch as people dance, drink, and make questionable decisions.

"you look miserable," a voice says from beside you.

you turn and come face to face with park jongseong, jay, as everyone calls him. you know his name, even if you've never spoken before. he's older, popular, and has a reputation that follows him everywhere he goes.

flirt. player. fuckboy.

minju has warned you about him. "he's hot, yeah, but he's the kind of guy who doesn't do relationships. he flirts, hooks up, and moves on. trust me, i've seen it happen."

but none of that matters, because you have no plans to entertain him.

jay grins at you, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. he's got that easy confidence, the kind that comes with knowing he's attractive and that people want him.

"not a fan of parties?" he asks, tilting his head.

you shrug. "not really."

he chuckles. "then why are you here?"

"minju."

his eyebrows raise slightly. "you know minju?"

"from high school." you say, keeping your answers short.

"interesting," he muses, eyes scanning your face like he's trying to place you somewhere in his memory. he doesn't seem to recognize you, though, which isn't surprising. you've never exactly run in the same circles.

"so," he says, shifting closer. "wanna dance?"

it's not a question, not really. it's the kind of offer people don't usually refuse, not when it comes from him. jay park doesn't get turned down.

but you just blink at him and say, "no, thanks."

his smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers. "really? you sure? i promise i'm a good dancer."

"i'm sure." you say with a fake smile, giving off the vibe that you’re annoyed

he lets out a soft laugh, like he can't believe you're actually rejecting him. his ego must be bruised, but he hides it well, still looking at you with interest.

"alright," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "then how about a drink? i can get you something better than… whatever that is." he nods at your cup.

"i'm good."

"wow," he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement. "you're really not making this easy for me, huh?"

"should i?"

he grins, running a hand through his dark hair. "most people do."

"well, i'm not most people."

jay studies you for a moment, like he's trying to figure out why you're different. why you're not reacting the way everyone else does. you don't bat your lashes at him, don't giggle or play into his flirting. and for some reason, instead of turning him away, it only seems to intrigue him more.

"i like you," he says suddenly.

you roll your eyes. "you don't even know me."

"not yet," he agrees, "but i’d like to."

there's something almost playful in his voice, but you know better. jay isn’t interested in getting to know people. he's interested in chasing, in winning. and right now, you’re just another game to him.

"keep liking me from a distance," you say, brushing past him.

you don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

for the first time in his life, park jongseong has been rejected. and somehow, you think that only makes him more determined.

—

you don't think much about your encounter with jay. to you, it was just another conversation at a party, one you barely wanted to be at in the first place.

but apparently, jay thinks otherwise.

it starts with small things.

you see him at the campus café, where he just so happens to show up right behind you in line.

"oh, hey," he says casually, as if running into you is pure coincidence.

you glance at him, unimpressed. "hey."

"what are you getting?"

you turn back to the menu. "haven't decided."

"let me guess," he hums, tapping a finger against his chin like he's solving some great mystery. "you seem like a caramel macchiato kind of person."

you raise a brow. "what does that even mean?"

jay grins, leaning in slightly. "sweet, but a little bitter if you get on their bad side."

"so basically, you're guessing."

"i call it an educated guess," he says, nodding at the cashier. "get one. my treat."

"no, thanks."

he lets out a dramatic sigh. "you really don't like accepting things from me, huh?"

"nope."

instead of looking discouraged, jay just watches as you place your order, an iced americano, completely different from what he guessed.

he chuckles. "so i was way off."

"yup."

you take your drink and leave without another word. jay doesn’t follow, but you swear you feel his stare on your back as you walk away.

it keeps happening.

and then, one afternoon, you’re sitting under a tree, trying to get through an assignment, when someone drops into the grass beside you.

"you always look so serious," jay muses.

you don’t even glance up. "because i'm trying to focus."

"right, right." he leans back on his hands. "but don't you ever take a break?"

"nope."

"come on," he nudges your knee with his. "five minutes won't kill you."

you sigh, finally looking at him. "do you need something?"

jay flashes you that same easy grin, the one that probably gets him whatever he wants. "just your company."

"i think you’ll survive without it."

he clutches his chest dramatically. "ouch. you wound me."

"you’ll live."

jay just laughs, shaking his head. "you know, you’re making this really difficult."

"making what difficult?"

"getting to know you."

"who said i wanted you to?"

he stares at you for a moment, eyes glinting with something unreadable. then, instead of answering, he stands up and dusts himself off.

"alright," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "guess i’ll try again tomorrow."

before you can process his words, he's already walking away.

"okay, what is going on?" minju asks a few days later, sliding into the seat across from you in the dining hall.

"what do you mean?"

she gestures dramatically. "you and jay. he keeps staring at you. he keeps showing up wherever you are."

"it's just a coincidence."

"coincidence my ass," she huffs. "he’s interested."

"interested in what? flirting with someone who doesn’t want to flirt back?"

"exactly!" minju exclaims. "he's never been rejected before! you’re like. like. his first loss."

"not a loss," you correct. "just… not a win."

"same thing in his mind." she leans in, eyes narrowing. "be honest. do you like him?"

you snort. "no."

"not even a little?"

"minju, he flirts with anything that breathes."

"true," she concedes, stabbing a piece of her salad. "but he’s never tried this hard before."

you roll your eyes. "and that’s exactly why i’m not interested. he only wants what he can’t have."

"so you think if you gave in, he’d lose interest?"

"obviously. but it’s not like i want him to be interested in the first place,”

but what you don’t see is jay, sitting at another table with jake and heeseung, watching you from across the room.

"so," heeseung says, "still trying?"

jay sips his drink, not looking away. "yup."

jake shakes his head, laughing. "dude, you're obsessed."

"i'm not obsessed," jay scoffs. "i'm just… interested."

heeseung raises a brow. "in what? winning?"

jay pauses. that should be the answer. that’s how it always is. he flirts, he wins, he moves on. but this time, it feels different.

"i dunno," he mutters, eyes still locked on you. "but i wanna find out."

and just like that, park jongseong makes it his mission to make you fall for him.

whether you want to or not.

—

you’re starting to think the universe has a cruel sense of humor.

there’s no other explanation for why jay park keeps showing up everywhere you go.

first, it’s the café… again. you stop by for your usual iced americano, and there he is, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. when he sees you, his lips curl into a smirk.

"you stalking me now?" he teases.

you blink at him. "this is literally my usual spot."

"yeah?" he muses, stepping aside so you can order. "funny. seems like it’s mine now too."

you ignore him and pay for your drink, but as you turn to leave, he suddenly holds out a muffin. "here."

you frown. "what is this?"

"peace offering," he says. "for annoying you so much."

"i don't want it."

jay tuts, shaking his head. "harsh. you don’t like sweets?"

"i don’t like you."

he laughs, completely unbothered. "that’s not true. you just won’t admit you think i’m funny."

you roll your eyes and walk past him, but not before he calls out, "see you around!"

unfortunately, he’s right.

the second time, it’s the library.

you’re sitting at a table, halfway through an essay, when someone slides into the seat across from you.

you don’t need to look up. "seriously?"

jay rests his chin on his palm, grinning. "seriously."

"do you even study?"

"i do now." he gestures to his laptop, which, sure enough, is open.

you sigh and turn back to your work, ignoring him completely. for the first ten minutes, he’s quiet, and you start to think maybe—just maybe—he’s actually here to study.

but then he leans forward. "you always this focused?"

"yes."

"cute," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

you finally look at him, unimpressed. "why are you here?"

"what, a guy can’t expand his knowledge?"

"you haven’t typed a single word."

jay glances at his screen, where his essay is blank. he shrugs. "i’m thinking."

"about what?"

"about how long it’s gonna take for you to admit you like having me around."

you let out a slow breath, standing up and gathering your things. "good luck with that."

"where you going?"

"somewhere quiet."

jay watches you leave, the smirk never leaving his face.

you think that’s the end of it.

until your professor assigns a group project.

"you’ll be working in pairs," she says. "check the list for your partner."

you scan the names, looking for yours, and freeze.

park jongseong.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter.

"what?" minju asks, peering over your shoulder. then she snorts. "oh. wow. the universe really has it out for you."

you groan, dropping your head onto the desk.

"who’d you get?"

you glance up to see jisung standing beside you, holding his own paper.

"jay," minju answers for you.

jisung grimaces. "yikes."

"yep."

before you can say anything else, someone taps your shoulder.

"guess we’re partners," jay says, voice far too amused.

you sigh. "don’t remind me.”

—

working with jay is… not as painful as you expected.

you still don’t like him. obviously. but he’s not completely useless.

turns out, he’s actually smart. and organized. he doesn’t slack off or make you do all the work. and—annoyingly—he’s kind of funny.

you realize this when you’re both at the library, bouncing ideas off each other.

"okay, so we could go with this topic," you say, scrolling through the research.

jay hums. "or we could pick something that won’t make me want to throw myself off a building."

you bite back a smile. "dramatic much?"

"you’re underestimating my ability to get bored."

"i think that’s just your problem."

jay gasps, placing a hand over his chest. "ouch. i thought we were bonding."

"we’re working."

"same thing."

you shake your head, but you don’t argue.

slowly, things shift.

you still tell yourself that jay is just playing a game. but sometimes, you catch him looking at you—really looking—and for a moment, it doesn’t feel like one.

like when you’re at the library, and you yawn without thinking.

"tired?" he asks.

"obviously."

without a word, he slides his drink toward you.

you blink. "what—"

"it’s an americano," he says simply.

you hesitate, then take a sip. "it’s sweet."

jay shrugs. "i like sugar."

you give him a look. "so you were way off when you guessed my order last time."

he grins. "guess so."

you shake your head, but you don’t push the drink back.

—

"okay, so he’s not the worst person alive," you admit later.

minju stares at you. "who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

"i’m serious," you say. "he’s… fine. actually kind of helpful."

minju sighs. "that’s how it starts."

"how what starts?"

"you start thinking he’s not that bad. then, before you know it, you’re catching feelings."

"i’m not catching anything."

she gives you a look. "just be careful, okay? he’s only this persistent because you’re the first person to say no."

you nod, but her words stick in your head.

you tell yourself you don’t care.

but then one night, you’re leaving the library, and jay is waiting outside.

"walking alone at this hour?" he muses. "dangerous."

you raise an eyebrow. "and you’re what? my bodyguard?"

jay smirks. "i could be."

"no thanks."

"still," he says, falling into step beside you. "i’ll walk you back."

"you don’t have to."

"i know."

you sigh, but you let him.

the walk is quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps. when you reach your building, you stop.

"this is me," you say.

jay nods. "guess i’ll see you tomorrow."

"guess so."

he hesitates, then lifts a hand, ruffling your hair before you can react.

you blink. "what the—"

he just grins. "goodnight."

then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing.

this is bad.

really bad.

—

the next party is loud, too loud. music shakes the floor, conversations overlap, and the air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. you don’t even know why you’re here.

well. you do.

minju dragged you out, saying you’ve been too cooped up with schoolwork and your stupid group project (which, unfortunately, includes jay park). jisung backed her up, insisting you needed to “socialize like a normal human being.”

so now you’re here, standing in the corner of someone’s crowded apartment, gripping a half-empty cup of soda because you don’t drink, and pretending you’re interested in whatever minju is talking about.

until you see him.

jay.

you tell yourself you shouldn’t be surprised. parties are his thing, after all. loud music, dim lighting, a sea of people who’d fall into his arms without hesitation.

he fits right in.

too well.

you spot him across the room, leaning against the wall, that lazy smirk on his lips. there’s a girl beside him, standing too close, laughing at something he just said. she tilts her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. jay doesn’t move away.

he says something else, something that makes her giggle, and then he leans in,,, just a little.

your stomach twists.

it’s stupid. so, so stupid.

this is what he does. this is who he is. he flirts with everyone. you’ve seen it before. you knew this about him before he even knew your name.

but tonight, it bothers you.

you don’t know why, and you don’t want to think about it.

"you okay?" minju asks, nudging your arm.

"yeah," you say too quickly. "just… tired."

she eyes you but doesn’t press. "wanna leave soon?"

you nod. "yeah."

but before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey," a familiar voice says.

you turn, and there he is.

jay.

his smirk is gone.

"what do you want?" you ask, not in the mood for whatever game he’s playing tonight.

he hesitates, glancing at minju, then back at you. "can we talk?"

"no."

he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "please?"

minju looks between the two of you, then slowly backs away. "i’ll be over there," she says, pointing to jisung.

you cross your arms. "what?"

jay doesn’t answer right away. instead, he exhales, then jerks his head toward the door. "outside?"

you should say no. you should walk away. but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes your chest feel too tight, so you follow him out.

the cool night air is a relief against your heated skin. outside, the noise is muffled, distant, like the party belongs to a different world.

you stop a few steps away from the door, crossing your arms. "well?"

jay shoves his hands into his pockets. "you looked upset."

you scoff. "why do you care?"

"because," he says, stepping closer, "i do."

you laugh, but it’s humorless. "you flirt with someone else, then come running after me? what is this, jay?"

his jaw tightens. "it’s not like that."

"really? because it sure as hell looked like it."

"you think i do this with everyone?" his voice is sharper now, frustration leaking through. "yeah, i flirt, but this,whatever this is, is different, and you know it."

your breath catches.

different.

he said it first.

but that doesn’t change anything.

"do i?" you challenge. "because it looks exactly the same to me."

jay groans, running a hand through his hair. "i didn’t even realize what i was doing."

"that’s not making this better."

"i know!" he snaps. "i just—fuck."

he exhales, tilting his head back like he’s trying to find the right words in the sky. then, softer, he says, "it’s a habit, okay? flirting, keeping things surface-level. that’s just how i’ve always been."

you swallow, suddenly unsure. "then why are you here?"

jay takes another step forward, close enough that you can see the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his brows.

"because i don’t want this to be surface-level," he admits. "not with you."

the words knock the air out of your lungs.

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then you say, "so what? you want me to believe that you’re suddenly different?"

"i don’t know," he admits. "but i know i don’t want to fuck this up."

you stare at him, at the raw honesty in his expression.

this is dangerous territory.

you should walk away.

you don’t.

but then you think about that girl inside, the way he leaned in so easily, the way it took him this long to come after you.

"you say that," you murmur, voice quieter now, "but you still went back to your usual thing the second i wasn’t around."

jay flinches.

"it didn’t mean anything," he says, quickly, desperately. "i wasn’t even thinking about her."

"exactly," you say bitterly. "you weren’t thinking at all."

jay opens his mouth, then closes it.

"you don’t even realize what you’re doing," you continue, voice tight. "you don’t realize how easily you slip into old habits. you say this is different, but are you sure?"

"yes," jay says, without hesitation.

you laugh, but it’s broken. "then why do i feel like i’m just setting myself up to get hurt?"

he doesn’t have an answer for that.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

jay looks like he wants to say something, to fix this somehow, but what is there to fix? he’s still the same jay park who flirts with everyone, who doesn’t think before he acts, who only realizes too late that he might actually care.

"you’re not ready for this," you whisper.

"i am," he insists, but there’s something fragile in his voice, something that tells you even he isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth.

you shake your head. "i don’t think you are."

jay reaches out, just a little, like he wants to touch you, like he wants you to stay.

but you step back.

his hand drops.

and with that, you turn around and walk away.

jay doesn’t call after you.

he doesn’t chase you this time.

and maybe that tells you everything you need to know.

—

you avoid him.

it’s not hard at first. you’re in different years, different circles. you stop going to the café where you know he likes to hang out between classes, ignore the parties minju tries to drag you to, and duck your head whenever you spot him on campus.

the only problem is that jay notices.

you’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, jay park—fuckboy, campus heartbreaker, the guy who shouldn’t care—is suddenly watching you.

you feel it in the way his eyes linger too long when you pass by in the hallway, in the way his conversations falter when you’re around, in the way his whole demeanor shifts whenever you deliberately turn away.

he doesn’t chase after you.

but he’s not ignoring it, either.

and that’s what makes it worse.

it would be easier if he didn’t care, if he went right back to flirting with someone else like nothing ever happened. but he doesn’t.

and that terrifies you.

so you run faster.

"okay, what is wrong with you?"

jay exhales sharply, gripping the pool cue tighter. "nothing."

"bullshit."

heeseung snatches the stick out of his hands before he can even attempt a shot. jay scowls, reaching for it, but heeseung just leans away.

"bro, you’ve been in the worst mood for, like, a week," jake says, spinning an unmarked beer bottle between his fingers. "just admit it."

jay glares. "admit what?"

heeseung rolls his eyes. "that you’re being a little bitch about this whole thing."

jay scoffs. "about what?"

"oh my god," jake groans. "are you in denial, or just stupid?"

jay clenches his jaw. "neither."

heeseung and jake share a look, and jay hates that they’re silently communicating in that annoying, knowing way that only best friends do.

"listen," heeseung starts, "you don’t do feelings. we get it. but this? whatever’s happening between you and—"

"don’t say their name," jay mutters, looking away.

heeseung smirks. "oh, so you do care?"

jay exhales, tilting his head back against the worn leather of the booth.

fuck.

he doesn’t know what this is.

he just knows that it sucks.

he didn’t think avoiding them would be a big deal. people walk away from him all the time, sometimes before he can even do it first.

but this?

this feels different.

it feels like something is missing. like something is slipping through his fingers and he’s too fucking slow to catch it.

"you don’t even like people," jake points out.

jay sighs. "i like you guys."

"yeah, but we don’t count," heeseung snorts. "we’re basically required to deal with your bullshit."

jay scoffs, shoving his shoulder, but heeseung just grins.

then, quieter, he says, "this is the first time you’ve actually looked miserable over someone."

jay doesn’t answer.

"so what are you gonna do about it?" jake asks.

jay exhales, drumming his fingers against the table.

he doesn’t know.

but he knows he can’t keep pretending this is nothing.

not anymore.

—

you don’t know why you look.

it’s just a normal afternoon. you’re heading toward the library, minju walking beside you, talking about something jisung said earlier.

and then you see him.

jay is standing near the campus courtyard, golden light catching the sharp edges of his jawline. he’s not alone.

there’s a girl with him. she’s standing close—too close. her hand is on his arm, fingers curling lightly around the sleeve of his jacket. she laughs at something he says, head tilting, eyes locked on his.

and jay?

jay just smiles.

it’s the same smile you’ve seen before, the same effortless charm, the same easy confidence that has made him a campus legend. he leans in slightly, talking low, his posture relaxed like he’s done this a thousand times.

because he has.

your chest tightens.

"hey, you okay?" minju asks beside you, nudging your arm.

you snap your gaze away, pulse quickening. you shouldn’t care. you knew what he was like before you even met him. you knew he flirted with anyone he found attractive, that he never had to try, that he never faced rejection.

you knew he was never meant to be serious.

so why does it feel like something inside you is caving in?

"yeah," you mumble. "just remembered something i have to do."

minju frowns, but you don’t give her a chance to question it. before she can say anything, you turn and walk the other way, ignoring the burning feeling in your chest.

you don’t look back.

and jay doesn’t notice you leaving.

yet, jay can tell something’s wrong.

he doesn’t know what it is, but he can feel it.

it’s in the way you won’t look at him, the way you walk past him like he’s just another face in the crowd.

at first, he thinks he’s imagining it. you were never friends to begin with—maybe you were just busy, maybe this is normal.

but the shift is undeniable.

before, you’d at least acknowledge him. you’d give him a polite nod, a passing glance, sometimes even a subtle eyeroll when you caught him flirting.

now?

nothing.

he sees you on campus, and you don’t even flinch.

he walks past your usual café, and you’re not there.

he catches you in the library and for a second. just a second. he swears you meet his gaze.

but then you turn away.

like he’s not even there.

he doesn’t plan to confront you.

but after a week of this, of whatever this is, he finds himself standing outside your dorm, hands shoved in his pockets, frustration bubbling under his skin.

he doesn’t even know why he’s here.

it’s not like you owe him anything.

but still, he knocks.

no answer.

he exhales sharply, rocking back on his heels, debating whether to try again.

then, he hears footsteps.

"what are you doing here?"

jay turns, finding jisung standing a few feet away, arms crossed.

"looking for y/n," jay says. "they’ve been… acting weird."

jisung raises an eyebrow. "and you just noticed?"

jay frowns. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

jisung exhales, shaking his head. "they saw you," he says simply.

jay’s stomach tightens. "...what?"

"the other day. in the courtyard. with that girl."

jay blinks, the memory slotting into place. shit.

"they saw you smiling at her," jisung continues, his voice even but firm. "letting her touch you. looking at her the way they thought—" he stops himself, sighing. "never mind."

jay’s pulse kicks up. "you think they—"

"they think they were stupid for believing you might actually be different with them," jisung cuts in, sharper now. "they think they almost fell for the same bullshit you pull on everyone else."

jay clenches his jaw.

fuck.

he wasn’t thinking. he didn’t even realize.

but now, remembering the moment, the way the girl had laughed, the way she had leaned in, the way he hadn’t pulled away—

he understands.

and it feels like he just lost something important without even knowing he had it.

"if you’re gonna say something, make it worth their time," jisung says. "because right now? they don’t want anything to do with you."

jay doesn’t answer.

because for the first time in his life, he’s the one who got it wrong.

he’s the one who let something real slip through his fingers.

and he has no idea how to fix it.

but he knows one thing—

he has to try.

—

you don’t expect him to be waiting for you.

it’s late. you just finished a study session with minju, and all you want is to go back to your dorm, crawl under the covers, and forget about everything—forget about him.

but as soon as you step into the dimly lit hallway leading to your room, you see him.

jay.

leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes dark with something unreadable.

your heart stutters.

you hesitate, debating whether to turn around, pretend you didn’t see him. but then he looks up—really looks at you—and you know there’s no escape.

"we need to talk," he says, pushing off the wall.

fuck jisung for letting him in.

"i don’t think we do," you mutter, stepping past him, reaching for your door.

but before you can, jay moves, his hand catching your wrist—gently, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

"please," he says.

you freeze.

he’s never said please before. at least, not like this. not as desperate as this.

slowly, you turn to face him, sighing. "jay—"

"just let me say this," he cuts in, eyes burning with something raw, something you’ve never seen on him before. desperation.

you press your lips together but nod.

jay exhales, running a hand through his hair. "i—fuck, i don’t know how to do this," he mutters, shaking his head. "i’m not good at this."

"then don’t," you say, voice sharper than you intended. "don’t stand here and feed me some excuse about how you 'don’t do relationships' or 'didn’t mean to hurt me.' i don’t want to hear it."

jay flinches. "that’s not what i was gonna say."

you cross your arms. "then what?"

he swallows hard, eyes flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. "i—i don’t know how to do this, because i’ve never felt like this before."

your breath catches.

"i didn’t even realize what i was doing," jay continues, voice quieter now. "i didn’t think. i’ve never had to. flirting, messing around—it’s just… easy. but you—" he exhales sharply. "you make things different."

you shake your head. "jay—"

"i don’t want anyone else," he interrupts, stepping closer, voice steady. "just you."

your chest tightens.

"and when you get bored?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "when someone new comes along?"

jay shakes his head immediately. "i don’t think i could ever get bored of you."

it’s too much.

too much to believe, too much to trust, too much to risk.

"how am i supposed to believe that?" you ask, eyes searching his face. "how am i supposed to believe you won’t wake up one day and decide i was just another name on your list?"

jay exhales, stepping even closer, until there’s barely any space between you. "because no one’s ever made me feel like this before."

your pulse is loud in your ears.

"i don’t know how to do relationships," he admits, voice low, honest. "i don’t know how to be what you deserve. but i want to try. i want to figure it out—with you."

he’s so close now. close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, close enough that you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the fear of being rejected, of losing you.

you shouldn’t.

you should walk away.

you should protect yourself, guard your heart, not fall for the one person who could break you the easiest.

but then jay reaches up, fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost trembling.

"please," he murmurs, his voice almost breaking.

jay park—unshakable, confident, the fuckboy—is breaking in front of you.

and against all logic, all reason—you fall.

before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you close the space between you.

his breath catches, just for a second, before his lips press against yours, warm and desperate.

jay kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to prove every word he just said. his hands cup your face, pulling you closer, holding you like you’re something fragile—something precious.

and when you kiss him back, letting yourself believe—just for this moment—that maybe, just maybe, this could be real, he sighs against your lips, like he’s just found something he’s been searching for all along.

—

your relationship with jay park is different.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy, falling for someone who never had to try, who never had to work for love. but you never expected this.

never expected him to try so hard.

at first, it’s awkward. jay doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s used to effortless flirting, meaningless hookups, relationships that start and end in the span of a night.

but with you?

he wants to be better. he wants to be different.

so he does things he’s never done before.

he waits for you after class, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"did you eat?" he asks one day, falling into step beside you.

you blink. "uh… yeah?"

jay nods, looking relieved. "okay. cool. just—yeah. cool."

he’s awkward. jay park, campus fuckboy, the smooth talker who never falters, is awkward.

you bite back a smile. "did you eat?"

he hesitates.

you raise an eyebrow. "jay."

he clears his throat. "…no."

you sigh, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the campus café. he lets you, grinning like you just gave him the world.

the first time he reaches for your hand, it’s so casual that you almost miss it.

you’re sitting next to each other, watching a movie in the dorm common room. your hand rests between you, fingers brushing against his.

then, slowly, hesitantly, jay links his pinky with yours.

your heart stutters.

you glance at him, but he’s staring straight at the screen, his jaw tight, his ears slightly red.

you bite your lip.

then, without a word, you let your fingers slip fully into his.

jay stiffens for half a second. then, his grip tightens, and he exhales, shoulders relaxing.

he doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

he’s not used to jealousy.

or rather, he’s not used to his own jealousy.

he’s seen people get possessive over him before, watched girls glare when he flirted with someone new, felt the heat of their disappointment when they realized he wasn’t theirs.

but now?

now he understands.

he understands because he’s standing in the middle of campus, watching some guy—some random guy—smile at you like he has a chance.

and jay hates it.

he crosses the distance before he can think, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low, casual, possessive.

your eyes widen. "jay?"

"who’s this?" jay asks, looking at the guy.

the guy blinks, glancing between the two of you. "uh, just—just a classmate."

jay smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "cool. yeah. we gotta go, though."

you barely have time to say goodbye before jay is leading you away, his grip firm but gentle.

once you’re out of earshot, you elbow him. "what was that?"

jay shrugs. "didn’t like the way he was looking at you."

you roll your eyes. "you can’t just—"

he stops walking, turning to face you, eyes serious. "i know i don’t have the right," he admits. "but i don’t like it. i don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can have you."

your breath catches.

"you’re mine," jay says, voice softer now. "right?"

you stare at him for a moment.

then, finally, you sigh, reaching up to flick his forehead.

"yeah," you mutter. "i’m yours."

jay grins, rubbing his forehead. "damn right."

heeseung and jake pretend to be disgusted.

"you’re whipped," jake says, shaking his head.

"nah, man, this is worse than we thought," heeseung adds. "he’s holding hands in public."

jay glares at them from across the table, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

"you guys are just mad i have a functional love life," he says.

jake snorts. "yeah, sure. functional."

"bet he calls them ‘baby’ over text," heeseung whispers loudly.

jake gasps. "you think he—"

"shut up," jay groans.

you’re trying not to laugh. "do you?"

jay glares at you, but his ears are red. "i hate you."

you grin. "you love me."

jay rolls his eyes.

but then, under the table, he gives your hand a squeeze.

and you know—

even if he’ll never admit it out loud—

he really does.

—

you constantly look back and don’t know when you started believing him.

maybe it was the first time he held your hand without thinking, his fingers curling around yours so naturally, like he didn’t need to pretend anymore.

or maybe it was when he let you steal his hoodie, even though you were sure he’d never let anyone do that before.

or maybe—just maybe—it was when you saw the way he looked at you.

because it’s different now.

jay park, the guy who used to flirt with anyone just for fun, the guy who never stuck around, only looks at you.

"okay, but seriously," jake says, pointing a fry at jay. "how the hell did this happen?"

you’re sitting in the corner booth of a diner near campus, squeezed between jay and the wall. heeseung and jake are across from you, both staring like you’re some kind of unsolvable mystery.

jay takes a slow sip of his drink. "what do you mean?"

"you!" heeseung gestures wildly. "relationship jay. committed jay. ‘not flirting with every breathing human’ jay."

"it’s called growth," jay deadpans.

"it’s called ‘i fell first, and i fell hard,’" jake teases, smirking.

jay huffs. "whatever, man."

but he doesn’t deny it.

heeseung leans forward, grinning. "okay, but who confessed first?"

jay opens his mouth—

"me, obviously," you interrupt.

jay’s head snaps toward you. "what?"

you shrug. "you’re a coward. took you forever to admit you liked me."

jake laughs. "ohhh, he got you there."

jay glares at you, but you just smile, nudging his foot under the table.

you laugh, “joking, it’s complicated.”

heeseung rests his chin in his palm. "man, i never thought i’d see the day."

"what day?" you ask, amused.

"the day jay park became a simp."

jay groans, burying his face in his hands. "i hate all of you."

you pat his arm. "no, you don’t."

he exhales, tilting his head to look at you. his eyes soften.

"yeah," he murmurs. "i don’t."

—

later that night, after jay walks you back to your dorm, you linger outside the door.

he doesn’t leave right away.

instead, he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, just looking at you.

you tilt your head. "what?"

jay hesitates, then exhales sharply.

"it’s weird," he mutters. "this whole time, i thought i had everything figured out. i thought i knew what i wanted. but then you came along, and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore."

your chest tightens.

"i didn’t get it at first," jay continues, eyes flickering to the ground. "why i got so annoyed when you ignored me. why i kept looking for you in every room. why i couldn’t flirt with anyone else without feeling like it was wrong."

he finally meets your gaze.

"but now i do."

your fingers tighten around the door handle, heartbeat loud in your ears.

"i don’t want to be the guy i was before," he murmurs. "not with you."

you swallow. "jay—"

"i know i’m not good at this," he cuts in. "i know i’m gonna mess up. i know i don’t deserve you."

his voice drops lower, almost hesitant. almost afraid.

"but i want to try. and i want you to let me."

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then, finally—

you sigh, shaking your head. "god, you’re such an idiot."

jay blinks. "huh?"

you step forward, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him down until your foreheads touch.

"you’ve had me this whole time," you murmur.

jay’s breath stutters.

then, slowly—hesitantly—his arms wrap around you, holding you against him, warm and real.

"yeah?" he whispers.

you nod. "yeah."

jay exhales a shaky laugh, squeezing you tighter.

"thank god," he mutters. "i don’t think i could’ve handled losing you."

you smile against his shoulder.

neither could you.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 7 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 29k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist // ko-fi

notes: everyone be safe this year ♡

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 7 – The Ceremony Part 2

‘I feel that I want to be forgiven, that I want her to forgive me. But I do not know how to state my crime.’

— James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room

The church is filled with more people than you even thought lived in Jackson. The front row is occupied by Mrs Moss and a woman that keeps patting her back reassuringly. Next to her, you make out Cat among a few of Lane’s friends, two or three others that you know played important roles in her life. She got to Jackson years before you, having spent most of her teenage years with the community and, evidently, having left quite an impression. The two seats on the very right are yours and Joel’s. He is anxiously perched on his, his fingers tapping the wood below him as he keeps his focus on you.

The rows behind him are filled with more friends, acquaintances, the others that help out at the school. And behind them are children. Seemingly all the children of Jackson, the ones that have been told off a million times for talking in class or not doing their homework by both Lane and you, are sitting in their finest clothes, staying still and quiet, somber expressions on their small faces.

It hurts more than anything else could.

You finish taking stock of the audience by letting your gaze fly over the last rows—and those standing behind them, for the lack of space. You see Maria and Tommy, him sending a reassuring nod your way before you both turn your attention back towards the priest, who is finishing up his speech.

“The only thing we can do is keep the memory and spirit of Lane alive. We will now hear a few words from those who knew her best. And I ask you all to listen and remember her, not for how her story ended but for who she was before.”

A short nod from the priest towards you is followed by the walk up to the small podium that seems to last a very long time. You’re painfully aware of the eyes on you, eyes that have not seen you since you’ve been carried through the town in Joel’s arms a few days ago. This too, seems much further away than it actually is.

You place the neatly typed sheets of paper on the podium and take a deep breath.

***

Joel doesn’t leave your side the entire way to the graveyard. The wind has picked up again and the gray sky promises that more snow is on the way. You’re walking just behind the front of the procession made up of Mrs Moss and a few people around her. You would’ve been very content to stay a bit further behind—it makes you feel exposed to have so many pairs of eyes following your every move. How many of them believe you didn't know about this? How many will go home and whisper about Lane behind closed doors, saying that they saw it coming. How could anyone?

The grave is outlined, even if not dug. A small wooden cross has been erected where the headstone will be eventually. You can barely bring yourself to watch as the priest places the wreath in front of it. It’s beautifully crafted, decorated with a black ribbon in the front. For a second, you forget what it symbolizes and instead just stare at the flowers. You’ve never known you could find so many colors in the Wyoming winter. There is purple and yellow—and blue. Hydrangeas and bluebells, trailing all around the twigs that hold the wreath together.

The words of the priest bring you back to the reason you’re staring at the flowers and immediately, their beauty is lost on you.

There is no ritual, no petals or earth. With no grave, you can’t help but feel there is no way to say goodbye. The cross is just a piece of wood, carrying Lane’s name and the two dates that mark the span of her life.

It’s not a very long one.

Joel steers you through the crowd, people occasionally giving you a small, sad nod. You try not to look at them for more than a few seconds, tired of the look they all have. The same face, the sad somber eyes, the same pat on your shoulder. You’re glad when you reach the town hall, the tables decorated with the same flowers you’ve just seen placed on Lane’s grave. It kills whatever appetite you try to pretend to have.

There is cake, mostly homemade, a few women and men still shuffling around the tables, trying to find a place to squeeze in their baked goods. Just like in the church, it feels like the whole town is around and, slowly but surely, people grab food and drinks and settle down, their voices low and eyes cast downward.

A few of the younger people, including Cat, eventually come up to you, expressing their condolences and inviting you to sit with them. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Joel mutters into your ear for the third time and you give a small nod. “Yeah, I get along with them. I swear, it’s okay.” He only seems mildly satisfied with your response, lingering next to the table you’ve settled down at for another second.

“Just—” You lean over to him. “Don’t leave without me?”

“I’ll be around, just want a quick word with Tommy. You come and find me if you wanna leave early, okay?” He hums into your ear and you give a quick nod before watching him make his way through the crowd.

He’s a tad less touchy, with all these people around, and as you listen to the conversations around you and attempt to swallow the cake that feels much too dry in your mouth, you catch yourself longing for another cold night and a good excuse to curl up against his body and let his warmth soothe you, away from the prying eyes and the whispered conversations that seem to follow you around.

***

Joel's eyes are scanning the crowd when he finds a familiar face, one that makes his insides churn with guilt. He glances over his shoulder, checking if you still seem okay, before making his way over to a corner towards the front of the hall.

He sighs as he reaches the table tucked away there, leaning against the wall. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey,” Ellie replies quietly, her gaze wandering around the room behind them, her eyes never quite reaching Joel. Her gaze avoiding him the same way she does. He lets a few seconds pass, forcing himself to soak in the uncomfortable silence. Then, he clears his throat quietly.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t come by yet, it’s all been a bit—” He struggles to find the right word. It’s complicated because Lane is dead and he needs to get that into your head without ruining you, and during all that, he also needs to ignore the thoughts in the back of his own head that seem to get louder each time he feels your body pressed against his.

“A bit much,” Ellie finishes for him. She stares at her feet for a moment before looking up, this time directly at him. “It’s fine. It’s nice she has someone who looks out for her. If that’s what this is.”

Joel feels like he’s been punched in the gut. If that’s what this is?

He sucks in a breath, watching as Ellie sways back and forth, her eyes still on him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, if you look out for her, that’s nice. Unless that still includes lying, by your definition.” Her face shows that she knows it’s a low blow. Joel nods curtly, clenching his jaw for a moment. His glance wanders back to the table you’re sitting at and he half wishes there’d be something there, some sign of distress that would give him an excuse to walk away from this conversation. But there isn’t and he knows that he doesn’t deserve it either way.

“Ellie, this ain’t the time for that,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head a bit as he shifts his focus back onto her. “If you’ve got something to say about—”

“I’m moving in with Dina.”

If he’s been punched in the gut before, now Joel is certain his attacker has added a knife to the equation. It must be visible on his face because Ellie’s defiant gaze falters slightly and seems to soften a tiny bit as she watches him, no doubt waiting for the reaction to her news. For once, he looks absolutely dumbfounded, his mouth slightly open, waiting on a confirmation that he hasn’t just heard those words.

“I didn’t mean—” Ellie groans a little, moving her hands into the air. “Not right now. But we’ve been talking about it and I figured…” She gives a small shrug. “I figured you should know. Means you can have the shed and—”

“I don’t want the damn shed,” Joel blurts out. He doesn’t say that he just wants Ellie, and preferably you, close by. He gets that she wanted some privacy, more than the illusion of it in the form of a thin wall between their rooms, but having her in his backyard seemed like a good compromise. It allowed him to make sure she ate or to have breakfast at the kitchen table, the window facing the backyard and Ellie’s front door.

Joel lets out a small breath, slowly, as he nods to himself. Damage control. That’s the best he can do right now.

“The shed is yours, always. The house is already way too big for me ‘n myself,'' Joel mutters, fighting the urge to tell her that he should get some say in this, that this is a decision that they should make together. One he’d very much like to put off for a long, long time.

Joel doesn’t know how to let go because he’s never had the chance to. Everything he’s lost has been ripped away from him with violence and blood trailing behind it. Not once has he willingly given something up. So he doesn’t know how to.

He protects and holds them close until they die in his arms. And they always die.

The image of Sarah's body flashes before his eyes for a moment and Joel grabs the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as he tries to push the thoughts away.

“Look, I think Dina is a good—you seem to like her,” Joel mumbles, glancing around to make sure they’re not being overheard. “You do … like her, right?”

Ellie makes a noise that almost sounds like a small laugh, but somehow, it only makes Joel feel even smaller. “Yeah, she’s not so bad.”

“Right,” he responds because he can’t think of what to say to that. He racks his brain for a reply that won’t immediately cause another row, something that feels impossible with Ellie these days. He distantly longs for their time before Jackson—when she hung on his every word, never quite did as he told her but stuck with him nonetheless. A tiny voice in the back of his head points out that maybe the town tucked away behind Wyoming's mountains doesn't hold such good luck after all.

Ellie’s gaze is back on the room behind Joel and she tilts her head slightly as she speaks. “You won't be completely by yourself in the house though, right? Not with her moving in.”

It's not that she doesn't like you. The few lessons of yours she attended were admittedly fairly interesting and more than once you'd brought Ellie a new book you'd stumbled upon while learning to navigate the library—usually something about space. But the one thing she's never quite understood is your relationship with Joel, why both of you have dinners and dance around each other and still never seem to get anywhere.

“She’s not moving in,” Joel clarifies, his voice straining slightly. “Look, if that’s what this is about—” 

Ellie quickly shakes her head. “It's not. I mean—it's a factor. But it doesn’t… I don't care who lives with you, Joel.”

They both know her words are not entirely true, but Joel decides to let it slide, knowing that the only thing waiting for him here is another argument. “Okay, look. You don't know what she's going through. Lane’s death has been hard on her and none of us can imagine—”

“What it's like to see your best friend die?” Ellie interrupts. Her tone isn't loud enough to stand out among the noises of the crowd around them but it still carries that hint of disappointment. “Yeah, jeez, I really can't imagine.”

Fuck.

Joel shakes his head, his fingers tapping against the fabric of his pants more quickly. “Ellie, I didn't mean—” He sighs, his gaze wandering back to the crowded room.

It's at the same moment that Joel's eyes meet yours and you take in his features, a small frown appearing on your forehead at what you see. 

He doesn’t know that he looks so incredibly tired.

***

His mind is still on the idea of being all alone in his house, of Ellie being so damn far away, when you finally leave the funeral feast, stepping out into the cold air.

“Was that Ellie with you earlier?” you ask politely.

Joel nods weakly, unable to open his mouth, unable to tell you about their conversation or about Ellie’s plans. It feels like the knife is still lodged in his stomach.

“It’s nice you two are speaking.” He’s lucky your attention is still on your own thoughts, enough to not notice the small flicker of something that dances over his face before he takes a deep breath and goes back to pretending that everything is okay. He has an idea that you feel very similar about the day. Pretending that it’s normal to be writing eulogies instead of finals.

“Your speech was lovely,” he says in a low voice, remembering how he had to pinch himself to stop the tears from gathering in his eyes.

“Thank you,” you mumble back, your gaze focused on your feet below as you leave the main street.

“I wanted to stop by the graveyard again,” you pipe up softly. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. You wanna go now?” Joel asks carefully. The sky is still overcast, the snow piling up more and more. The town seems more bleak and cold than ever, even more so in direct comparison to the warmly lit town hall with the smell of good food and the constant hum of conversation all around.

The graveyard is empty.

The small cross and the footsteps in the snow are the only signs that someone was here. Or in Lane’s case, that someone isn’t.

As you turn the small corner that opens up to the meadow that holds around two dozen other graves, Joel carefully sneaks his arm around you, pulling you a bit closer into his side, silently vowing his support.

Your stomach drops as you get close enough to make out Lane’s name carved into the wood. Something seems to be clawing at your chest from the inside, violently attempting to find its way out of you and into existence.

A bit of snow has gathered on the cross and you reach out to wipe it off when your gaze falls onto something between the flowers below. Slowly, you bend down, trembling fingers pushing the snow to the side, only to be met with the most horrifying thing you could see placed on a grave.

It is a kid's drawing.

Two stick figures, one with blue hair, your names written underneath. A small rainbow hovers above Lane’s head, the colors just slightly off. You feel like you’re going to be sick.

You barely notice the sharp intake of breath behind you as Joel glances over your shoulder to see. His hand rubs small circles into your shoulder.

“I didn’t think they’d put them out here.”

Whatever has been inside your chest finally breaks free and with it a wave of anger like you have never known rolls over you. It settles inside every inch of you, wrapping itself around your skin, casting your body.

It moves faster than it has in days when you turn around and roughly shove Joel’s hand off you, taking a staggering step back into the untouched snow.

“You knew?”

Joel stares at you with a mix of pity and surprise. And you truly, fully hate him. For giving you that look, always giving you that look, since the first time you met. Like you’re something that’s broken, that he needs to fix.

He seems to fight to find the right words for a moment before nodding carefully, the hand that was on your back a moment ago slightly raised in a calming gesture. “They wanted to help the kids grieve. So they let them draw the pictures. Maria said—”

“I should’ve been there,” you press out, not yet willing the tears to fall that you can already feel bubbling up.

A flicker of something else flies over Joel’s face. A sternness you haven’t seen on it in a long time. “We didn’t think you were—”

“I don’t care what you think!” you roar, sending a flock of birds up in the trees flying into the sky. “I’m so tired of all of you treating me like a goddamn child!”

Joel’s face has fallen slightly and he swallows hard, raising his hand a little higher. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant! None of you know what this is like so stop pretending that you understand! I never wanted this!”

“I know you didn’t,” Joel says quietly, his eyes alert and trained on you.

“You said it would all be better! You said it was so much easier and safer in Jackson, that everything would be better here! You were the one who made me stay!”

Joel just stands there, letting you yell and rage at him, and somehow, that makes it even worse. You want him to yell back, to fight you on this, to do anything but stare at you like you’re this sad thing he can’t leave. An animal that has been grazed by the bullet. Enough to hurt, not yet enough to bleed out.

“What else have you been keeping from me?!” You don’t think you even care. But now that you’ve started yelling you can’t seem to stop. Because you know that the anger is the only thing between you and the overwhelming wave of grief that will come crashing down on you the moment you allow yourself to breathe.

Joel almost looks like he wants to apologize but then his face changes and he shakes his head firmly. “I have not been keeping things from you. I’ve been protecting you.”

“I never asked for your protection!” you yell, moving a step forward to shove at his chest. It barely makes him stumble. Controlled, strong, as always. But something is simmering under his skin too. And you can practically see the moment it reaches his throat.

“Fine! The next time the kids draw pictures for you, I’ll just shove them right into your face!”

You both immediately know he’s crossed a line. Your lungs are burning, the cold air hurting your throat as your voice finally quiets down. “They drew pictures for me?”

Joel opens his mouth and closes it again, shaking his head and it suddenly becomes clear to you that he didn’t mean to say this, that you only know of yet another secret something because you’ve pushed him to a breaking point. He takes another breath, forcing his voice to be quiet when he speaks again.

“I put them below the stairs. I was gonna give them to you, I just thought it was a bit early to—”

You don’t hear the rest of his sentence, instead storming off towards the large metal gates of the graveyard. The white house on Rancher Street is not locked. The hallway seems oddly long as you hurry through it, your gaze fixed on the wooden stairs leading to your bedroom.

His bedroom, you correct yourself. You don't live here. And you surely won't after this.

The first two cupboards you open contain fresh linen that you carelessly shove out of the way. The third one holds a small plastic container that is filled to the brim with paper in a variety of colors.

There are pictures of the school, the classroom, Lane at the front. Lane surrounded by children. Lane next to someone that looks like you. Lane in the woods. There are a few poems and cards in between, each one neatly stacked in the container. There is a weathered postcard showing Flat Creek Lake.

You’re on the wooden floor of the hallway when Joel finally steps into the house. The box clutched to your chest, your body practically curled up around it.

He has been able to keep the tears at bay during your speech. He isn’t able to now. He doesn’t notice that he’s crying until the first tear slips down his cheek and he quickly uses his hand to wipe it away.

Your sobs are almost silent, your body shaking with the effort of keeping them that way.

Joel knows it’s his fault. Because despite all the arguments he’s been storing in the back of his head, he knows you’re right. He is the one who made you stay. He promised you an easier life in Jackson, watched as you trusted him and built your life here rather than anywhere else. And in return, you’d gotten two years of happiness and two pages of goodbye.

A whimper escapes your throat, weak and high-pitched, like the animal that has been grazed by the bullet is finally dying. You’re all trembling limbs and weak sobs as he carefully pries your fingers off the plastic container and sets it aside, making sure not to hide it. He’s done with that.

His back protests as he lifts you up with no support from you, no hands clutching on to him like they usually do, no arms wrapping around his torso. But you don’t fight him, which is all he thinks he can ask. He takes the stairs very slowly, careful not to trip before placing you down into his bed.

Your eyes are closed but he can’t tell whether the grief has worn you out too much or if you’re just trying to ignore that he’s there. He only lingers for a few moments, taking off your shoes and coat and spreading the thick winter blanket over you. Then, he quietly closes the bedroom door behind him and heads back downstairs, ignoring the fact that every part of his body is screaming at him to turn back, to find your trembling body below his sheets and wrap himself around you, hands sneaking over your skin.

Instead, he creates a makeshift bed for himself on the couch, kicks off his own boots and settles down, his eyes landing on his wrist. The hands sitting below the cracked glass of his watch are still, the exact way they have been for over twenty years.

He allows his mind to wander to his daughter for a few moments. Not the night of her death, not even the year. But to her first day of school, to their first Christmas, to his daughter Sarah rather than his dead daughter Sarah.

‘Remember her not for how her story ended but for who she was before.’

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

notes: thank you for reading ♡

[goodbyeyellowbrickcloset]

"Taylor Doesn’t Easter Egg That Deeply"—Are You Sure About That?

Today, I got the question:

"Can I ask—have you ever considered that you’re making all this up and Taylor doesn’t Easter egg this deeply? Like what if you’re just wrong and she doesn’t give a fig about The Wizard of Oz and wore this dress because she liked it? What if it’s not a performance? What if she’s straight and isn’t leaving clues about her sexuality in her clothes and jewelry? Please answer because I genuinely want to know if it’s ever crossed your mind."

I appreciate the curiosity, and yes—I have considered that possibility. But here's the thing: Taylor Swift has spent years openly admitting that she obsessively layers hidden messages into her work. Not just lyrics. Clothing, jewelry, set design, interviews, social media posts—even her fingernail color.

So rather than answering this with my own opinion, let’s let Taylor herself explain how deep she goes with Easter eggs.

Taylor Swift on Easter Eggs (Straight From Her Mouth)

📺Watch Here: Taylor Swift Reveals Her Easter Eggs About TS7

💬 Taylor’s Own Words:

"Hey, guys, it's Taylor Swift, and today I'm going to talk to you about Easter eggs… No, not the bunny pastel Easter eggs, although I really do love that aesthetic right now. I'm loving pastels. But the Easter eggs I'm gonna talk to you right now about are the kind of cryptic, message-sending Easter eggs. When you're watching a movie or music video and you notice something in the background, and that something leads to, sort of, behind-the-scenes information, that's an Easter egg. So I love to communicate via Easter eggs. I think the best messages are cryptic ones, so I'm going to lead you through my favorite kinds of Easter eggs to lay."

Easter Eggs Can Be Worn—Clothing & Jewelry

"Easter eggs can be left on clothing or jewelry. This is one of my favorite ways to do this, because you wear something that foreshadows something else, and people don't usually find out this one immediately, but they know you are probably sending a message. They'll figure it out in time. Lots of examples of this exist over the history of my career, which I hope they have put near my face."

→ So when I make a post analyzing the symbolism of her wearing a ruby-red dress after a decade of Oz references, I’m following Taylor’s own rules of engagement. If jewelry and fashion are deliberate in her world, why would we assume it stops at queerness?

Even Her Fingernails Are Easter Eggs

"A specific way you can leave Easter eggs is on nails. I'm not doing it right now... I just like glitter, but, there was a specific occasion where I did a Spotify vertical video for Delicate and I painted my nails the exact color tones that I wanted the next album to be. Some people picked up on it immediately, others picked up on it a few months down the line, but it made me feel nice to know that, ya know, when you plan something that far in advance... you're actually kind of just flexing on planning.... you're really just like, 'I planned this two years in advance.'"

→ If she can use her nail polish to foreshadow an album two years in advance, what makes you think a dress—on the music industry’s biggest night, after years of known Easter eggs—wasn’t a deliberate choice? Beyond the obvious, her boyfriend's football team's color??

She Uses Set Design & Symbolism to Hide Messages

"Another way that I really like to use Easter eggs is that I like to plant them in set design for photoshoots or music videos. I like to, uhm, I like to put coded messaging, sort of, uhm, you can see like a sign on a building or something on a wall, graffiti, a code that has me opening a door could be something significant..." "Another way that an Easter egg can express your message is through symbolism. So, a lot of the time I'll pick something that I think symbolizes something else. Like, I'll pick a snake as sort of the mascot for uhm ya know, feeling misunderstood, or ya know, being somebody that is not going to strike unless they're stepped on. Or, a butterfly, which is like kind of just breaking free of that kind of uhm, that darkness, and ya know, fluttering into the light. Or, a palm tree, I did a post on my Instagram and I posted 7 palm trees and I posted it on the day I finished my 7th album. A palm tree symbolizes rebirth, new beginnings, positive energy, so..."

→ So if she explicitly picks visual metaphors to represent deeper messages—why would we assume that her history of referencing Oz, queer-coded literature, and decades of hidden storytelling suddenly doesn’t matter?

Her Love for Easter Eggs Is a Decades-Long Tradition

"I really started doing this in music videos much more during the Reputation album because I wasn't doing interviews and I still wanted to be able to communicate messages to the fans and so the Easter eggs really went into overdrive. I think the most Easter egg-y video of my entire career thus far is Look What You Made Me Do ... LITERALLY THE WHOLE VIDEO IS JUST EASTER EGGS. THERE'S LIKE THOUSANDS OF EASTER EGGS. THERE ARE SOME PEOPLE STILL HAVEN'T FOUND. IT WILL BE DECADES BEFORE PEOPLE FIND THEM ALL!"

→ You heard her. Decades. If we’re still uncovering hidden meanings in her work from 2017, why would we assume there isn’t meaning in what she does now?

And Then… This Little Slip-Up

"Another way you can drop hints and leave an Easter egg is hints in print. I'll do an interview that's supposed to come out way before something else that is supposed to come out and I'll foreshadow this thing that's supposed to come out in this interview that I do that comes out way before this thing comes out."

👀 Say “come out” one more time, I dare you.

→ It’s almost poetic. She could have phrased this any other way, but she didn’t. Why?

Capitalizing Random Letters in Lyrics for Hidden Messages

"I thought, why not capitalize random letters and see if the fans figure out that if you take all the random letters and you put 'em together, it spells out little codes, secret messages. It could be one secret message per song, but then in other albums I had it, I had a secret message, like a story that would go throughout all the lyrics. I like this because to me it makes people read the lyrics, it makes an album more of an event. Easter eggs are a way to really sort of expand the experience of seeing something or hearing music."

→ So when we talk about Easter eggs being embedded in the very structure of her albums, we're literally playing the game she created. And yet, somehow, people still act like this level of depth is a reach.

The Classic Taylor Easter Eggs—13s & Cats

"The last thing I will mention is my go-to Easter eggs: These are things that may not lead to something in the future but they're just a tribute to my love for them. Those things are 13's and cats. If you see a cat in symbolism in my Easter egg situation, that's just cause I love cats. It's really that simple. Sometimes it means nothing other than just, like, reminding you how much I love cats. Also the number 13... really close to my heart. I will pick dates, I'll pick really important dates just because the numbers of that date add up to 13. It rules my life, so, uhm, ya know, any Easter egg fiend has their go-to's... those are mine."

→Of course, there are some Easter eggs that don’t lead to deeper meanings—Taylor even says so herself. But the key phrase here is “go-to” Easter eggs. These are her defaults, her personal symbols, the things she sprinkles in just because she loves them. That’s the whole point—she differentiates between casual tributes and intentional clues.

So when hetlors inevitably try to use this quote to say, “See? Not everything is that deep!”—they’re missing the bigger picture.

If some things are just for fun, that also means other things are deliberate. She literally told us how to tell the difference. Taylor’s Easter eggs aren’t random—they follow patterns, themes, and storytelling structures. If cats and the number 13 are her signature stamps, that doesn’t erase the documented history of her planting meaningful, layered symbols in her lyrics, visuals, and public appearances.

So no, every cat she posts isn’t a clue. But a decade of recurring visual and lyrical motifs tied to queerness, hidden love, and coded references to historically queer works? That’s not the same as “I love cats.”

This isn’t an all-or-nothing game. Some things are just aesthetic. Some things are artful misdirection. But some things are very, very real.

Her Conclusion

"So thank you so much for sitting down with me to talk about easter eggs, which I'm sure I enjoyed much more than you did. My cover of Entertainment Weekly is out. So if you wanna check that out, who knows, there could be easter eggs all throughout that thing, you just ya know, ya never know with me. See ya!"

So, Back to the Original Question:

Does Taylor Swift “Easter egg that deeply” about The Wizard of Oz?

If we take her at her own words—yes, she Easter eggs that deeply about everything.

She leaves clues for the people who want to see them. And many of us do.

Now, I’ll leave you with a question of my own:

👉 What’s your favorite queer-coded Easter egg in Taylor’s work? Drop it in the comments! 👈

[fandom-susceptible]

So I've been thinking about where The Dragon Prince left things after Season 7, especially since they had to wrap it up so quickly and it doesn't look like they're likely to get full ten seasons.

I'm still very unsettled by Terry. I know he had his whole "Zuko here" moment and "redemption arc", but it rings hollow for me for a guy who spent the previous several seasons totally cool with a genocide against his own people as long as it was Claudia doing it. I super don't buy his shock and dismay at Claudia trying to kill the illusion of her mother after what he himself did to Ibis. I want to know where he came from and why he's okay with Dark Magic, just so long as it's not Aaravos.

Which is only loosely tied into a thought I wanna dwell on more, but is somewhat important background information for my thought process.

So at the end of Season 7, Soren, Corvus, Pyrrah, and Terry take off looking for King Harrow in the body of Pip the songbird. They wouldn't even know to look except that Runaan confirmed that King Harrow didn't fight back at the assassination, and instead just squawked, and Corvus put the pieces together.

Ezran is still struggling to forgive Runaan for his part in Harrow's death, which I think actually adds to his depth of character. He's no longer an innocent child - the "true soul", "death of innocence" theme from this season was strong, and Ezran is the peak example of it. He must find a way to balance his ideals with the pain that far more adult figures have been struggling with for years. Callum made a good point bringing up that he forgave Zubeia, and we didn't get to see Ezran's response, but imo his reaction to Callum's betrayal sort of fills in the blanks. It was Zubeia's mate and son that she thought were dead. I can see how that would make more sense for a kid like Ezran, who grew up with very strong familial bonds and values, than Runaan and the other assassins carrying out revenge for someone else when they have no personal grudge of their own.

Anyways. Consider.

Pip/Harrow's been missing for three years now. That bird could be anywhere on either side of the continent by now, though he is living with the mind of a king. He's also nowhere near Katolis, or Ezran would have found him already, from going to talk to "Pip" and finding that the bird is carrying an entirely different soul.

So imagine, in that time lapse in the final episode, Soren and Corvus come back and confess that they haven't found anything of worth. The last maybe-sighting of Pip was from some soldiers in Viren's army who thought they saw the bird following them into the Sunfire plains in Xadia. It's been two years, and they don't know.

So Rayla says she knows someone who might be able to help. The best tracker in Xadia. He can find anyone on the Xadian side of the border, and anyone he's ever tried to find in the Human Kingdoms too. He's diligent and has only ever missed one target. If anyone can track down King Harrow, it's him . . . but Ez isn't going to like it.

Runaan.

And at first Ezran doesn't. But Rayla makes a point, and Corvus and Soren aren't having any luck on their own or with Terry (if he's even relevant, tbh, if I write it he probably won't be because i am still disturbedd by that guy). So he agrees - with conditions, of course.

Runaan is hesitant when he's told the news, and when Ezran asks him why, he just delicately points out that a king in the body of a bird is also a bird with none of the instincts of a bird, and may not have survived regardless of the war, unless he's learned how to feed himself and managed to avoid all possible predators for three years straight.

Ezran acknowledges it, tells him that's something he's . . . preparing for. But Corvus gets to make the call that they've searched too much and Harrow is likely dead. Not Runaan.

So the terms are agreed to and Runaan ends up going on a road trip with Soren and Corvus. Please imagine the comedic value of dignified older assassin in the midst of a major cultural deconstruction trying to do serious business with Soren. Especially Soren and Corvus. And the flip side - imagine Soren and Corvus seeing what Xadia is like towards Moonshadow elves, especially ones of Runaan's description (tall, menacing, leader, broken horn, homosexual - am I talking about Runaan or Kim'dael). Possibly featuring an appearance from the surviving Dragonguard, and Runaan's reaction to Hendyr specifically, the Skywing elf who KNEW Tiadrin and Lain stayed to protect the egg and chose not to save it or to clear their names.

[marythequeen]

hello guys, i'm here to talk about leah toole's fictional book on mary i of england's. it's called the saddest princess.

at first, i want to clarify that i am highly aware that this book is fictional and not a biography. so you don't need to say "hey but it's fictional"

also, before reading her book, leah toole was someone i really liked. i used to follow her on tiktok and was really excited to read her book. however as you can understand, i am very, very disappointed.

let's start.

just after i had read the prologue i knew that many things would piss me off throughout the book because it was horrendous.

the vilification of queen mary is outdated now and seeing even the people that claim to like her doing this, made me feel awful. according to countless reports, in her death bed, she was peaceful and her conscience clean. the people that she had executed were mainly guilty of treason and many others were executed without her knowledge. i don't think that feeling guilty about this would be her main concern.

but do you know who was rather frightened and surrounded by guilt? her half sister elizabeth.

apart from this, if you ever saw a video of leah toole's, you probably know that she's a great hater of the spanish princess because of its inaccurate portrayals. mind you, the spanish princess tv show never ever claimed that it was historically accurate or something like that but leah toole was MAD (and rightfully so!! i totally agreed with her.) about it anyway. so imagine my disappointment when i started to read her book eagerly then realized that it, in many aspects, was a cheap copy of the tv show.

"there was no lone for this useless baby girl." i mean, really? that scene and almost everything about it was in the spanish princess. AND this whole scene could be proved wrong with countless reports. do i think katharine of aragon suffered from a kind of postpartum depression? i absolutely do. but do i think she HATED her own daughter for years? no because that's not what happened in reality.

again, this is a historical fiction book and it doesn't have to be historically accurate but it's called a hypocrisy when you criticize another material because of the same thing you did yourself.

(ps. katharine of aragon had blue eyes, not dark brown.)

mary's birth scene was AWFUL. henry saying mary is a useless girl was highly inaccurate. writing such things while mary's reputation is STILL unfairly blackened is very unnecessary.

"katherine had tried to love her daughter. but no matter how hard she tried, nothing the girl did held any meaning in katherine's eyes." are you kidding me??

also having mary curse constantly? this woman didn't know the meaning of whore until she was forty something. i can't even imagine her saying words such as bastard, harlot, whore etc. (in the book she called anne boleyn names when in reality she simply called her that woman. which is respectful enough.) especially when she used the word bastard when she was nine? now c'mon! throughout the book, the author is obviously influenced by the spanish princess tv show, even though she'd been very critical about the show. there's a pretty word for situations like this :) and it's called hypocrisy.

and *that* scene with duke philip? even the most passionate mary hater wouldn't write something like this. that was worse than wattpad, worse than ao3. (if you didn't read the book, take a deep breath, she had sex with him. again, did not happen in reality.)

apart from all of this, the only thing that i've liked about this book is clearly seeing that mary wasn't as forgiving as her mother was. because that's what actually happened. long story short, i was eager to read the other books of this series but i don't think that i'll be reading the rest. i am so very disappointed with this. it was such a waste of time. and i have to tell you that i am also incredibly sad because i used to enjoy her content a lot.

there are many more issues about this book but unfortunately i don't have enough time or will to live to write a detailed review but i think this'll do anyway.

lastly, at least there are very few quotes that i've liked and would want you to see.

—chapuys shrugged, "it would seem the king himself is struggling to separate the two religions," he said, "and his newest testaments have received mixed reactions from his council. i believe that in his heart he remains a catholic, but he does not wish to be told by anyone whether it be the pope or his best advisor - what he can and cannot do."

—"of all the women in my father's life, i have survived him the longest. and that alone is a great achievement."

—"i survived my father's tyranny for all my thirty-three years. this edward seymour could not scare me if he turned up at my doorstep dressed up as the devil himself."

[chiisana-sukima]

Saw that you also wanted to be asked this and I’d love to here your thoughts too. Exact same ask: What’s your thoughts on the idea of Soulless Sam losing his inhibitions and so giving into his darkest desires, and sexually assaulting Dean (which is how the vampire turning scene is read). I often see this tied to the idea that because of the incestuous deal and Azazel’s blood, Sam’s tainted and has this inherent darkness, specifically playing around the idea Sam’s sexuality is dark and perverse, and he harbours these feelings towards Dean and desires to assault him but feels shame and guilt for it. But as Soulless Sam he doesn’t. This reading always felt a little weird and uncomfortable to me but I couldn’t put into words why

In terms of the canonicity component, I have nothing to add to what @aliusfrater said. In isolation, I do think it's fair to read that look in Live Free or Twihard as at least metaphorically sexual, but it's one camera shot with no dialogue doing an awful lot of work in 327 hours of television.

This reading always felt a little weird and uncomfortable to me but I couldn’t put into words why

This is the part I wanted to write about. It feels weird and uncomfortable because it's an especially volatile subcategory of rape fantasy presented using the structure and language of an academic argument.

I feel like I should disclaimer that rape fantasies are fine and normal (and among my personal faves) and that stories are meant to serve people, not vice versa, so I'm not complaining about either the content of these headcanons or their lack of support in the canon version of spn per se. What's frustrating is the way the meta format mixes together assertions of fact about the source material, assertions of fact about rl, and shit an OP made up out of thin air because they thought it was hot, and turns it all into an indiscriminate fact-y sounding stew.

No, actually. No he isn't and no it wouldn't.

Another part of the uncomfortable feeling, at least for me, is the way fandom does intimacy backwards. First we put our blorbos in Situations, then we talk about our favorite Situations and why we love them, then we talk about politics, and then if we really, really like each other, we might discuss the weather. And it's all done in public, often without direct communication.

Usually I love that for us, but sometimes it causes problems we don't have great protocols for solving. I feel super-uncomfortable scrolling past 'It makes a tragic kind of sense that a csa survivor would grow up to be a rapist' without adding 'speak for your own damn self', and I think that's entirely fair of me.

Butttt, I can also guess that an OP who looked at Sam having smoking hot consensual sex and thought 'looks like rape to me' probably has a reason. Maybe the reason is poor sex ed. Probably not.

(Another part of the problem: that 'probably not' was a lie for politeness' sake. I went to the OP's dash and I know they have a reason other than poor sex ed. But I'm not supposed to say that, or especially have guessed it beforehand, despite the fact that such experiences are incredibly common and isolating, and despite the fact that knowing that information makes the OP's error more sympathetic. Because we're supposed to be ashamed that we were victimized, and never speak of it again. So if I could be assed to follow social norms, we would now have two survivors of sexual violence arguing about sexual violence--though only indirectly with each other--and both pretending their only investment was detached academic concern for the sanctity of the canon of a stupid 2000s era ghost-hunting melodrama. Which we both probably like in large part for the exact reason we're not supposed to admit to. Nobody wins that fight but patriarchy).

And you know, ig the thing that's most murky, and therefore most uncomfortable of all for me personally, is how I feel about the fact that this is so obviously a Dean girl (gn) take about Sam. Idek why that's so clear or why I care. I actually really enjoy "soulless Sam, freed of his guilt and inhibitions, does evil sexual things to Dean" fics. One of my all-time favorite fics (Flying Weight by flesh) is in this genre and is even about the vampire bite in Twihard. And I can't always tell, nor do I ever even care, whether they're written by Sam fans or Dean fans. But the chances of a Sam girlie conceptualizing it all this specific way, with the Evil Desires from the csa/demon blood and the predatory (consensual) sex and all, and then writing it all down as a meta, idk man, it would just never happen. And I'm kinda icked out that a meta that posits Sam as a csa survivor also so clearly uses him as a cardboard prop.

And on the one hand, yeah, they're all barbie dolls and everything, so who cares. But on the other, I hope if I wanted to write a meta, for example, about Dean correctively raping Sam in the panic room as part of the demon blood cure, I would build a more careful frame around it. One where it was clear what aspects I thought were consistent with canon, what aspects I thought were plausible in a semi-analogous rl situation, and what ones I just thought were hot.

I was really mad at the OP of the post I took that screenshot up there from when I read the meta and I'm glad I managed to slow down enough to be way less of a douche about it than I initially wanted to be. Maybe this is still too much of a douche, idk. Anyway, ty nonny for giving me the opportunity to process it all.