#safe Facebook reactions

[sociocosmos]

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[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[alisonfelixwrites]

Informed consent - chapter 1

Word count: 7,552

Mia Brown always thought she was a nice girl. She was polite, kept to herself yet was always keen on helping others if they gave her a little time to grow comfortable.

She grew up in a household where she never had the upper hand, where she was never considered the smart one. It was a feeling she got used to, waiting for instructions and then following them. Whenever she spoke a thought of her own, her parents were always quick in dismissing her and placing her back in line.

Mia Brown was raised to be perfect. 

Psychology wouldn’t have been her own first choice for a university degree, but it’s what her parents pushed her towards. They listed all the pros of a degree in that field and she found herself nodding. Before she knew it, her signature was on the enrolment form and her education was paid for.

Five years of university for a topic she had forced herself to grow excited about. Mia always assumed she’d go for something like… biology. The human body fascinated her, more specifically the brain. She sneakily watched Grey’s Anatomy for years, finally divulging in it fully now that she lived in a dorm and was no longer at her parents’ house, and for a long time saw herself as a neurosurgeon.

It was safe to say Cristina Yang was her example for a very long time. Her bossiness, her huge brain and her overall attitude was something Mia admired, she felt. That was until she suggested the idea to her parents, who rather quickly shushed her and shot her a disappointing look. Her father claimed surgery was a field for men, not women.

Mia remembered feeling disappointed, but forced a smile and had nodded at him either way.

According to him, she should choose a job where she could do regular office hours and be home at a nice time to care for her future husband. Someone her parents had apparently even already lined up for her. 

Daniel was nice enough, Mia thought. He was clever, polite and her father liked him. He was the son of a family friend and Mia saw him on certain occasions throughout the year. For the time being, both him and her were studying for their respective degrees at the colleges of their choice.

Mia didn’t particularly mind that they were on opposite sides of the country.

From a young age, she questioned her mother about the idea of love that she had seen in movies. Even though her parents never really allowed it, Mia did look at romantic films on the television and it was once more something she no longer deprived herself of now that she lived on her own.

The first time she asked her mother, was after watching Tarzan as a child. She liked how Jane fell for someone unconventional, someone who didn’t particularly fit the vibe of her own life. But she liked him for who he was and they ended up fitting their lives together.

Her mother hadn’t smiled gently at her question. She reprimanded Mia for it, for assuming that something like that could happen in real life. For her parents, love was a business deal. They had met in similar ways as Mia and Daniel had, and for them it was normal.

The first time Mia told her roommate and friend – Hazel – about it, Hazel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Her reaction actually made Mia laugh, because she felt like Hazel made a rather funny face and it caused a rather embarrassing snort to rise up Mia’s nose until she buckled over in laughter. Hazel stayed shocked for a few minutes before she questioned everything about this love-deal that Mia’s parents had made with Daniel’s parents.

She asked for a picture of Daniel, which Mia showed off of his Facebook-profile. Hazel had scrunched up her nose and pushed her thick-rimmed glasses further up her nose while also using both thumbs to zoom in on the picture. 

Mia had pressed her lips together, “He looks better in real life.” She defended him for some unknown reason.

The profile picture looked like him in the mediaeval centuries, posing for some kind of painter who’d make a portrait of him. It was stoic, very serious and the longer Mia stared at it, the funnier it became. Not long after, both her and Hazel were caught in a laughing fit while Hazel tried to impersonate Daniel’s picture.

It was hilarious, Mia thought. She couldn’t recollect a time she had laughed like that. So freely. 

She had been shy upon meeting Hazel at first, but she had given Mia time and space to open up and feel comfortable. She was still a little reserved, as she was around basically every human being. She was extremely polite and never did colour outside of the lines. It was quite the contrast from how Hazel lived. Sometimes, Mia thought, Hazel was a bit careless. She took inspiration from it, but in her own time.

Something that sadly enough didn’t move on her own time, was her education.

How she got through high school with flying colours, turned into a huge mystery for Mia. Upon starting university with all the hope in the world of liking psychology, it was a bit of a let down and a reality check when she struggled tremendously with the course materials.

It was a challenge she hadn’t faced in a while. All throughout high school, Mia had kept to herself and studied hard. The results proved worthy of how much time and effort she put into her assignments and tests. In university, she struggled.

Somehow her dyslexia didn’t bother her as much in high school. Mia’s teachers were aware of it and aided her for certain parts. In university, the professors weren’t as concerned and left the students to their own, and it made Mia anxious. 

While Hazel spent time with her friends – usually leaving the apartment to give Mia peace and quiet – Mia was huddled up at her desk with stacks of books and deadlines to achieve. It had surprised Mia, how hard of a time she had with the materials.

Mia did learn mechanisms, but it didn’t take away the added hardships of reading long texts or getting through thick books.

Especially when she was tired or anxious, the letters clouded together. The more frustrated Mia became, the harder it got to read the lines. It meant that she spent more time than ever between her books in order to pass her tests and get good grades. 

It meant the world to her parents to uphold her pristine reputation.

Even when Hazel tried to coax her out for a night, Mia most often refused. Not only did she suffer from social anxiety, she was far too preoccupied with her school work to let loose for even one night. 

“Good morning.” Mia softly spoke when she heard the closing of Hazel’s bedroom door. The next thing Mia heard was a loud yawn as Hazel dragged her feet over the hardwood floors of their shared apartment. 

Mia supposed it was the scent of coffee that woke Hazel up this Monday morning. Mia knew Hazel didn’t have classes for a few hours but that she had some texts to read. One thing that Mia’s psychology degree and Hazel’s philosophy degree had in common, was that they both had to read a lot. Thick books with different materials, yet the same amount of pages littered both their desks. 

Hazel was quite a bit more casual with it than Mia was, but that was alright. Hazel’s parents were nice people and upon meeting them for the first time, Mia sensed immediately where Hazel got her chaotic mind from. Mia’s parents did not assist in the furnishing-assembly party for their apartment while Hazel’s parents did. With bright smiles.

Mia made sure to thank them properly by cooking a nice meal for everyone that night. She declined the wine that Hazel offered and later on shared with her parents while Mia sipped on some water. 

The same table Hazel’s father had put together, now held two coffee mugs that Mia filled with black coffee. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hazel with a wild mess of curls on top of her head, run-down mascara and her pyjama top on backwards.

The sight made Mia giggle under her breath while Hazel joined her at the table, immediately holding her head with both hands to soothe the hangover Mia was sure she had. She never assumed Sundays could be for partying, but Hazel proved her otherwise. Apparently when in university, every night was for partying. And Hazel often used that excuse to leave for the night.

She softly slid the mug of coffee with the little pink unicorns on it towards Hazel while taking a sip of her own, poured in another one of Hazel’s funky mugs that Mia preferred. Hers had little daisies on it, and she found that it brightened her day.

“You’re an angel.” Hazel’s raspy voice was a clear indication from lack of sleep and one too many cigarettes, and Mia smiled at the sentiment, “I figured you might need it to wake up a little more. I think I heard you come home at around four.”

Hazel lifted her head, panda-eyes on full display as she stared at Mia, “Shit, did I wake you? I thought I was silent.”

Mia smiled softly – trying to hide her everlasting shock whenever Hazel blurted out a curse word just like that – and shook her head, “No, you didn’t. I never sleep all that amazing when I know you’re going out.”

“Mia,” Hazel groaned with a slight eye roll, “I told you to stop worrying about me.”

Mia looked down while taking another sip of coffee, “I know, but I can’t help it. I noticed you didn’t bring your coat and it was snowing right before I went to bed.” She defended herself for worrying about her friend.

Hazel chuckled, “That’s really sweet, but it’s about a thousand degrees in every nightclub.”

“But what about when you go outside?” Mia retorted curiously. Hazel shrugged, “I waited inside for the uber to come and get me, so it’s fine.”

Mia tilted her head to the side, “Right.”

Hazel took a large sip of her coffee and Mia looked at her with endeared eyes, “Did you have fun?”

“Really fun.” Hazel yawned, “You should really join us sometimes. I think you’d like my friends.”

Mia took it upon herself to plant a little polite smile on her face, nodding at Hazel’s proposition even though the idea made her stomach twist, “Yeah, sure.”

Hazel and Mia hadn’t met yesterday. They had lived together in this apartment for almost two months, so Hazel knew perfectly well that when Mia said ‘yeah, sure’, she actually meant no but she was too polite to say so.

Hazel was too tired and hungover to start any sort of discussion about it, and she also didn’t want to make Mia feel uncomfortable. Mia liked their dynamic so far. She had been nervous to live with anyone who wasn’t her parents and her older brother, who had gone off to university a few years prior and who she hardly kept in touch with. Hazel coaxed and urged her, but never pushed. She understood Mia, she felt. And it was something Mia was grateful for. Their dynamic of being roommates turned into a dynamic of being friends over the two months of living together.

“So what’s your day like? Are you home tonight?” Hazel questioned.

Mia sipped down more coffee while taking it upon herself to start packing her lunch. She shrugged her shoulders, “I have class in about thirty minutes. And then it’s just all through to the afternoon and then from three, I do some therapy.”

“Right. Lots of clients today?” Hazel asked and Mia puckered her lips, “I don’t know, honestly. I’m sure professor Dillon will tell me when I get to class.” She popped a piece of toast in her mouth while spreading some hummus on the rest of the bread she packed for lunch. 

Due to her struggling with her school assignments, her primary professor – professor Dillon – had offered her some work for extra credit. Her assignments and tests hadn’t been all that amazing, and in order to save herself, Mia was allowed to practise. She had never really learned many social skills, but found that giving therapy was something up her alley.

Maybe her parents were right after all when picking this degree for her. 

Mia found that listening to other people and exploring their minds was something she needed to be good at if she wanted to be a therapist. Due to Mia’s struggling grades, she was offered the opportunity to receive extra credit, along with a few other students. Mia stayed behind twice a week to give individual therapy to fellow other students. 

Some came to them voluntarily to just clear their minds and vent a little. Others had to come to therapy mandated from the school. Either they did something wrong at school – like they skipped too many classes or defiled the school property – and were given the choice to either pay a fine to the school or follow some therapy sessions with the psychology-students. 

Mia had questioned the ethics of it, along with Hazel. Of course Mia and her fellow students made referrals to actual therapists if they felt like the problems were too severe, but they had learned that the students that came in for therapy sometimes just wanted a chat. It was free, it was accessible and it was private.

And then there were those who had to follow it for mandatory reasons. It was a bit sneaky on the school’s end, but if students chose therapy rather than paying for defiled property or receiving detention, parents weren’t notified. It was a great way for the psychology students to get some practice in. 

It took Mia a little while to get on board with this plan, but the few students she had seen so far, had put her at ease and with each passing therapy session that she hosted, she felt like she got better at it.

One girl came to her because she had a minor drug problem but it was only an issue when she didn’t reach class on time in the mornings. Another came to her because they drunkenly broke into the school at night and broke a window. 

It was another thing Mia tried to let go of, the anxiety of trying to predict who she was going to have in front of her and what story they’d tell her. She had learned that it was something she couldn’t control and strangely, that put her at ease. She couldn’t prepare for some of the things she heard.

Obviously, she was a first year student who had hardly learned any actual theory about psychology, but her school believed in a practical approach and Mia decided to use it to her benefit and gain extra credit from it since studying wasn’t going to be her forte in university.

She finished packing her lunch while Hazel told some stories about her night out. Apparently, she had gone to a bar – which Mia wasn’t surprised by. Hazel told stories with her hands, Mia noticed. She liked listening to her. Her eyes enjoyed following the movements of her fingers, bringing strength to her words as she enthusiastically spoke about events that were completely foreign to Mia.

Drinking shots. Dancing on tables. Kissing strangers. Mia listened with perked ears and wide eyes of a world that was unfamiliar to her. It was a world she was curious for, but also scared of. For now, Mia felt alright just following along from the sidelines.

“I took extra bread out of the freezer so you can have lunch. And I cut up extra cucumbers too.” Mia spoke while closing her breadbox to put in her bag. Hazel’s eyes could’ve turned into hearts at Mia’s words and she smiled at her, “I have the best roommate ever.”

Mia blushed and giggled, floundering at the compliment which still felt uncommon to her to receive in the first place. She didn’t think she had ever been the best at anything, so she liked Hazel saying it like that even if it was a figure of speech. Mia was sure there were better roommates out there than her, but she didn’t get in that headspace because it was one she struggled to get out of.

With her brown hair in her signature braid behind her back, Mia worked her way on exiting the apartment. She wore black jeans, wool socks, boots and a few layers up top to keep warm. November had just begun and it was very cold in the UK to say the least. It’s why she had felt worried about Hazel going out in what Mia was sure was just another short dress, without a coat. 

With the first flakes of snow she saw drizzling from the sky from her opened curtain in the street lights, she felt a pang of worry shooting through her. Mia had learned that she enjoyed sleeping with her curtains open for the sheer fact that she could look outside. She enjoyed the business of their apartment, the sounds coming from the street, the distant chattering.

And at night, it was lovely silent. Mia loved the silence. 

She bundled up tightly and bid goodbye to Hazel before braving the cold and making her way to campus on foot. It was about a ten minute walk and only recently had she dared to start listening to music on her walks. Mia wasn’t superstitious or paranoid, but her parents had always warned her. Not about anything in specific, they just warned her. So she was careful and hesitant about everything, also the few same streets she always took to campus to get to her classes.

As expected, she got in early. Her first class today was child development. It wasn’t something Mia found herself very fascinated by. She wasn’t fascinated by most of her subjects and she had yet to find her passion in this field. Neuropsychology was the nail in her coffin, if she was honest. After class one she knew she’d struggle with that one.

Mia pulled out her laptop and took a seat by the window, giving her a view of the snowed-in campus. She found herself smiling at the comfortable view, feeling quite right at home on this campus. 

Moving away from home could’ve gone two ways. Part of Mia was very excited to do so, because her parents started to feel suffocating and she was keen on trying to figure out what life had to offer. She was ready to move on her own, spread her wings and figure it out. On the other hand, Mia realised she had always been very protected.

Her parents were set on her watching the news every night and she was confronted with the worldly horrors on a daily basis. It took her parents convincing to let her move to a big city as they called it. 

Mia wondered why they never gave her brother that hard of a time when he moved away.

Class moved by quickly as Mia paid attention and took notes, knowing she was messing up lots of the words she typed. It was another thing she lost time with, going over her notes and fixing them every night before she could actually study them. If she focussed on that in class, Mia knew she’d be lost after only a few minutes as the teacher moved too quickly. 

When the weather was still nice, Mia often chose to have lunch outside by herself. She’d sit at the campus grounds with a book or use the time to already go over her notes or study some more. But with the snow falling, she felt nerves seeping into her bones at the thought of having to eat at the cafeteria.

She spotted some of the people who had a few classes with her and they shot one another polite smiles. Mia was too shy to ask them if she could sit with them, so she chose a table in the back where a lot of people unfortunately dumped their trash after finishing their lunch.

Mia chose a spot at the far end of the table and used the back of her breadbox to push some of the empty wrappings to the side and give herself a little room to eat. She was grateful that during the course of her meal, no one threw anything on the table and they let her eat in peace.

After her afternoon class, she made her way over to professor Dillon’s office on the fourth floor of the North building. She had just snacked on some grapes and a cup of hot tea from the vending machine, her fingers coming down on professor Dillon’s office door which was slightly ajar.

He beckoned her in with a comforting grin, surrounded by stacks of papers on his desk.

His messiness resembled Hazel’s, Mia observed. 

“You only have one therapy talk today, Mia.” Professor Dillon handed her a small file and Mia took it without second thought, “Okay. Room two?”

He breathed out a small chuckle, “You don’t have to ask anymore, you can take room two.”

Mia smiled wider and nodded gratefully, “Thank you, professor.” Ever since beginning this volunteering work, Mia had preferred to give therapy sessions in room two. They could choose from five rooms since there were usually five students volunteering, Mia being one of them. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about room two that she liked, but apparently professor Dillon didn’t need much confirming and just handed it to her.

With the file under her arm, Mia made her way to room two, opening it up comfortably only to be startled with a yelp when she realised she wasn’t alone.

A boy was in the room. Well, a man really.

His eyes flicked up at the sudden action of the door opening, his eyes landing on Mia from his seated position on the couch. He wore a dark blue beanie and an equally dark oversized jumper that covered part of his hands too. They were clasped together as his elbows leaned on his knees and he comfortably sat on the couch.

Mia caught her breath and tried to hide the pinking of her cheeks, forcing him a small smile even if the stranger nearly gave her a heart attack.

“Hi. You must be…” She casted her eyes down to the file that the professor handed her, squinting her eyes to read the name properly, “… Sinclair, Harry?”

He softly cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

Mia nodded and closed the door behind her, balancing her bag, the file and her cup of tea which she chose to set down first of all before making even more of a fool of herself. She shrugged off her coat and made the room a little comfortable, shooting Harry a small smile, “Sorry, I just got here.”

He didn’t answer her as she went around the room, turning on certain lights and also turning on the heating to get the space a little warmer. 

She had to admit she was a little startled to find the stranger here already. She liked getting in a little early to get the space ready and read through the file, to get a sense of at least the name of the person coming in for a chat. 

Harry stared at his feet as Mia moved through the space until eventually settling down into the couch opposite him, a small coffee table between them. Mia clamped both hands around her hot cup of coffee and left a bit of a silence, taking him in.

She noticed the little glob of snot in the corner of his left eye, the writing marks on his hands, the few chunky rings adorning his fingers and the way they tightly grasped one another, joining in his lap when he leaned back against the back of the couch.

“Aren’t you supposed to like… talk or something?” His voice broke the silence.

Mia snapped out of her admiring-state and flicked her eyes up, a flush rising up her chest that she tried to hide by taking a sip of her tea and burning her entire throat simultaneously – yet another thing she tried to play off.

“Do you want anything to drink?” She changed the subject.

“No.”

More silence. She liked doing it like this at first, because it gave room for the other person to say whatever they were feeling like.

“Are you just gonna keep staring at me? I don’t think this is how therapy works.” Harry spoke again, a boring tone to his voice as his fingertips started playing with the armrest of the couch where there was a small rip in the sowing. His fingers picked on the stuffing in it as he had a more relaxed position.

Mia pressed her lips together, trying to think of some conversation techniques she had read through before starting any therapy sessions with anyone, “It’s not. I just like to leave room for some silence, is that okay?” She could tell her voice didn’t sound all that steady. Mia really struggled with these therapy sessions but knew she had to practise if she ever wanted to do this for a living. Her social anxiety just got in the way most often and she needed some time to get into it.

“Not when it’s awkward.” He mumbled, his eyes then going to the clock on the opposite wall, exhaling another bored sigh. Mia tilted her head to the side, “You don’t want to be here.”

Harry clacked his tongue and didn’t look at her, “Nice observation.”

Another small blush from sheer embarrassment and Mia blinked a few times before finally reaching for the folder on her lap. Mia softly cleared her throat and opened it up, “So… Harry. What do you study?”

“Philosophy.”

Her ears perked and she fought the small smile on her lips, the immediate thought of Hazel popping into her brain. Mia was sure her loving roommate would have no issue striking up a conversation with this quick-witted young man in front of her. 

“That’s interesting.” She commented, earning her nothing more than a lazy shrug from Harry’s shoulders who seemed more occupied with destroying the stuffing of the couch than to speak to her. Mia nibbled her lip, unsure of where to go from here.

So she decided to ramble her memorised lines that she had to repeat all the time.

“So – “ She drew a breath, “you are in for eight sessions with me. The sessions are twice a week at first but about halfway we move onto once a week, so it’ll be a month and a half unless either of us falls sick or has to cancel due to class or an assignment.”

He didn’t react or respond so Mia felt like it was appropriate to continue, “We obviously don’t know one another, and I want you to know that nothing you say here will leave this room. I’m not here to judge. This is a… safe space.” She cringed while speaking the words but professor Dillon had urged her to speak them. 

Harry exhaled a soft huff but still didn’t look at her. 

“Oh, and I just need you to sign this. It’s an informed consent. You know, just that you agree with this and that I’m allowed to write some stuff down. It won’t go in an official file or anything, it just means I can keep some notes so I don’t forget everything by the time you come in next.” She spoke softly, pulling something out of her bag. Mia straightened out the sheet a little before leaning over the coffee table and placing it down with a pen on top.

Harry stared at it with little interest for a bit until he leaned forward too, took the small pen in his huge hand and lazily scribbled his signature without even taking a look at the words on it. He leaned back on the couch with a sigh so deep it seemed like putting his signature down was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

“So, I think we should start fresh.” Mia forced him a smile after she put the consent form away ,and got up, extending her hand, “I’m Mia.”

Harry arched up an eyebrow, unimpressed as she stood in front of him. His eyes dragged up her form once and Mia could feel herself shrinking while trying to keep her extended hand steady. He eventually shook it with little enthusiasm, “Harry.” He sighed.

Mia couldn’t help but smile brightly when he seemed to cooperate finally, but Harry’s eyes were cast down rather quickly. The cool metal of his rings contrasted with his warm skin when they shook hands, but he dropped his hand with little enthusiasm the second it was polite to do so.

“Okay.” She kept smiling while sitting back down on her couch, feeling as if they could move on from this awkward first greeting and finally get somewhere. She tucked a short loose strand of brown hair behind her ear that had come loose from the braid in the course of the day and nibbled her lip, staring down at the file on her lap.

"Are you comfortable here? Not too cold? I turned the heating on a little but let’s be honest, the weather has been less than a treat lately. I for sure didn’t expect to wake up to snow this morning. Although it was a nice surprise because it’s so pretty, it’s not that fun if you need to get places.” Mia started her small-talk, which was her usual way to get her clients to feel comfortable and open up.

Harry exhaled a bored breath and just nodded, more to himself than to her. Mia pressed her lips together when she realised this wasn’t really Harry’s cup of tea, her just chattering. Maybe he didn’t need it. 

“Have you ever gone to therapy before?”

“No.”

She nodded, opening up her notebook and scribbling something down, “And – uh, philosophy, hm? What year are you in?”

He put his chin on his hand while resting his elbow on the armrest, staring at her with an unimpressed look yet it still made Mia squirm inside. His eyes were quite intense and a very beautiful shade of green. She didn’t think she had ever come across someone with such striking eyes, or who’s eyes just stood out to her like that.

Mia found herself hoping he’d start talking soon so she could take the time to really look at him. She could listen to his deep, slow voice without paying much attention and let her eyes curiously trail over him for a moment. Right now, Mia felt like she couldn’t because he was watching her like a hawk and she felt a little shy under his gaze.

“Mostly in my second.” He shortly answered and Mia nodded, writing again to keep herself occupied, “Mostly?”

He shrugged, “Fucked up a little last year, have to retake a few subjects.” He answered and Mia found herself tensing up at the curse word he let slip just as casually as Hazel did. 

“So you’re nineteen?” Mia had stopped writing and now simply drew shapes of eyes in the by-line of her notebook, subconsciously trying to mimic him. Harry exhaled again, “No, twenty.”

Mia curiously lifted her head, unable to keep the small frown from etching into her forehead. She parted her lips to ask the obvious follow-up question but Harry beat her to it with a small roll of those green eyes, as if he was already sick of hearing that same question, “I doubled a year in high school.”

“Oh.” She nodded, dropping her eyes again as Harry did the same. The room fell silent once more and Mia realised only six minutes had passed since she walked in. She mindlessly clicked her pen a few times until hearing a clearing of Harry’s throat. Mia’s eyes flicked to his, her cheeks pinking up a little as he shot her a slight glare. She put her pen down, “Sorry.”

Harry didn’t say anything but looked very much done with being in this room. His knee bobbed a little, sneaker-clad feet constantly shifting positions as he sat restless. 

Mia usually refrained from looking into the file too much. She found she rather heard from the people themselves what they were here for, telling their story. Most of them didn’t mind telling her as she apparently was someone to be trusted rather easily. She had never come across a student as hard to crack as the boy in front of her.

But now, in this silence, she noticed her fingers inching towards the folder and she eventually took it in her lap again and opened it up. She saw his global information, such as his name and his date of birth.

An Aquarius.

Mia’s eyes darted over the paper and she nodded to herself, until she tensed up and her eyes widened upon seeing what he was in for. She couldn’t stop herself when her mouth gaped and she gasped, before lifting her head with struck eyes.

Harry didn’t even notice, too occupied with the stuffing of the couch again as he lazed in the chair until the hour passed by.

“You…” Mia croaked out, still dumbstruck with the newly found information. Her eyes dropped to the paper again as if to read it once more to check if she was actually correct and that her eyes weren’t deceiving her, “You really did this?”

“So far for not judging.” Harry huffed and Mia swallowed, “No – but… seriously?”

Harry didn’t say anything but didn’t look amused with her reaction. Mia drew a breath, “You had… intercourse with someone in the library and broke a bookcase?”

“Mhm.” He mumbled.

Mia read over the words one more time until she glanced at him, “Why?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to her, “Why? What do you mean, why? Because I fucking felt like it, of course. I was horny and it was empty. Is it my fault those fucking book cases are ancient as fuck and can’t take some weight on them?!” He bit.

Mia felt a bit taken aback by the sudden volume of his voice, staring as his fingers now angrily picked at the rip in the armrest while grumbling something under his breath. After another moment of silence in which Mia felt like she simply had no idea how to even respond to that, Harry sighed out, “It’s not that weird, people do it all the time. As if you’ve never felt the urge and just did it wherever?” He continued.

Mia straightened up and pressed her lips together, feeling herself turn pink again. It was a common thing whenever a client turned a question around on her. She didn’t like answering questions during these sessions, she liked asking them. It was basically the only thing Mia felt like she enjoyed about being a therapist. Her entire life, she had never really been listened to, and she didn’t feel a particular need to talk now either. But she enjoyed listening.

She enjoyed finding out how people’s minds worked, how their brains were wired, and how they processed. 

She avoided Harry’s question specifically, because the fact that she was a virgin did not need to be discussed here, nor did she want him to find out. She just cast her eyes down, reading over the words just one more time to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

But no. Harry did have intercourse in the school library during a quiet moment of the day, but in the act he and the person he was doing it with, knocked over a smaller bookcase that did have some value to it. The school board was furious and wanted him to pay for the book case that he broke.

Harry apparently opted for therapy instead.

It seemed to be a decision he now regretted as he hung in the couch with his breaths even and his face looking like he had just received the world’s most awful news. It was quite clear to Mia that he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Mia felt like she had to gather herself and keep the conversation going, “S-So does your girlfriend have to get therapy too?”

“Girlfriend?” Harry chuckled at that, but in quite a menacing way as he shook his head, “She’s not my girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes, “She fucking bolted the moment that book case fell and she was out before the guard caught me. ‘M not gonna rat her out, I’m not a complete dick.” 

Mia was absolutely baffled by the way he spoke so casually with so many bad words in his regular vocabulary. She shifted a little and nodded, as if the idea of casual sex wasn’t completely foreign to her. She resorted to writing down a bit more while racking her brain for the next question or something that could steer this conversation back to where she wanted it to go.

“How old are you anyway?” Harry broke the silence this time. Mia lifted her head with raised brows, immediately a tad bit intimidated by the attention being on her again. She fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater, “I’m eighteen.”

“Holy fuck.” Harry sighed desperately while dropping his head back into the couch, showing off his throat and all the veins running there – which Mia tried very hard to keep her eyes away from. “What the fuck am I doing here.” Harry whined more so to himself than to her.

Mia tried not to feel too hurt by his statement. She was aware that not all people truly enjoyed therapy or that they were made for it. But she had also learned that after a few minutes or at most after one session, she had swayed them and they actually looked forward to coming back.

Never had someone expressed such displeasure in spending one hour in a room with her. It made an uncomfortable tingly sensation run through her skin and her throat dried out just a little bit as she forced a small smile his way when he lifted his head again.

“S-So – uh, why don’t you just tell me the story of what happened?” Mia tried to shift it back to Harry, to have him speak a little more instead of just answering with ‘yes’, ‘no’ or a shrug of his shoulders. Harry rolled his eyes again, and Mia frowned to herself. Did he really think she couldn’t see it when he did that? Did he not realise how rude it was to just roll your eyes at someone like that?

“Look – Mia, was it, right?” He started in a breath and Mia softly nodded, “Yes.”

Harry cleared his throat, “You seem like a nice girl, but frankly – you look like you belong in church. I never meant for my fucking sex life to be a topic of discussion with a fellow student who’s younger than me. As if you’re supposed to give me advice or some shit?” He exclaimed, clearly frustrated. He chewed his lip, ready to spew more venom at Mia who shrunk just a little on the couch. She hoped professor Dillon was following along and was ready to intervene instead of letting her suffer like this.

“I can’t pay for that bookcase, it’s like four grand – so yes, I chose this therapy thing instead. Not all of us have the privilege of just doing some volunteer work without getting paid for it. Some of us actually do need money.” He bit. 

Mia straightened up, a tight lump in her throat that she hadn’t expected just settled there. Rock hard, not wanting to move no matter how hard she tried or swallowed. She looked down to her lap, eyes blurring ever so slightly as she tried to breathe properly and remember her anxiety exercises.

Now would be a really good time for professor Dillon to come save her. 

---------

Professor Dillon didn’t come save her.

It was about forty minutes later and Mia had arrived home in the warmth of the apartment she shared with Hazel. She kicked the remainder of the snow off of her boots and then neatly put them next to the door to dry before padding her way into the space. Some lights were on and the door to Hazel’s room was on a small crack.

After nervously playing with the end of her braid for a bit, Mia thought she’d go in. She had contemplated it the entire way over, if she should bother Hazel with this.

Mia knew there was patient confidentiality, but she also knew the entire campus usually knew whenever someone had done something that earned them school mandated therapy. Mia was probably the only one who hadn’t heard about Harry’s library-escapades before today, because she didn’t speak to a lot of people and zoned out most of the time during the breaks.

Her knuckles gently came down on Hazel’s door and she could hear some music coming from inside.

“Come in!” Hazel called out and Mia nudged the door open, seeing Hazel up in her floral pink bedsheets and her laptop on her lap, a bag of chips next to her. She immediately frowned upon taking one look at Mia, “What happened?” She questioned urgently.

Mia’s shoulders deflated a bit and she let out a rugged sigh, that lump back in her throat, “I don’t – nothing.” She settled on, a sigh leaving her as she remembered how her and Harry had just been left in silence until he mumbled something under his breath and bolted out of the door.

She didn’t sign off on his session, so it didn’t even technically count as one. Afterwards, she had gotten scolded for it by professor Dillon. He hadn’t followed the session along so he had no idea what had been said, all he knew was that Harry left after about fifteen minutes instead of an hour, and that he had looked even angrier when leaving then when entering.

Mia stood small in front of professor Dillon, her arms protectively crossed in front of herself – even if it was a stance that her parents disapproved of because it was impolite – while he reprimanded her. It was quite familiar to Mia, she felt like she had been reprimanded her entire life.

Her parents had never been too liberal with their compliments, which is why praise from anyone – including Hazel – made her beam so much.

“Hey, Mia, come on.” Hazel frowned in worry and Mia shrugged, “Just – uh, a bad therapy session. Well, m-my first bad therapy session. I was just starting to think that I might be good at it but this… this guy showed up a-and I just didn’t get anywhere and I completely choked up.” Mia started rambling, her voice jumping a little as her words followed one another quickly. She looked anywhere but at Hazel as she was one big ball of worry now.

Her grades weren’t the best and that volunteer therapy thing she did was really just to get her a little extra credit. If she failed that too, Mia was sure she’d have to redo her year and the look on her parents face if she had to give them that news, was something she’d rather avoid.

Hazel shot her sympathetic eyes, “Babe, hey… Not all people open up as easily, you know that. And also, you’ve just started this thing! It doesn’t mean you’re a shit therapist or that you’ve chosen the wrong degree, you just need more experience. I’m sure it won’t be your last client behaving like that… some people are just not meant for therapy.”

“I know.” Mia murmured, keeping her eyes low until she sighed again, shifting from one foot to the other, “Can I just… climb in bed for a minute? And cry a little bit? I won’t make much noise.”

Hazel exhaled and nodded quicker than Mia had assumed. Her hand worked on opening up her blankets and Mia exhaled in relief when she slowly padded over, carefully climbing into Hazel’s pink bed. She snuggled a little into the free pillow, avoiding Hazel’s look on her as the first tears came running down.

She couldn’t believe she still had seven sessions left with Harry. Well – eight. Maybe he had changed his mind after all, rather digging into his savings to pay for the expensive book case he broke than spend more time with Mia.

A gentle stroke of Hazel’s fingers through her hair was what made Mia cry a little harder. The disappointment in herself was one thing, but the disappointment that her parents would feel when they found out about this – was another.

She had to turn this around, she couldn’t just fail this subject too. Mia couldn’t fail.

She just couldn’t. 

[lavenderchqn]

𝐶𝛨𝛢𝑃𝑇𝛦𝑅 𝟎𝟑𝟑 — SET IT OFF (3,5K WORDS) 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆 — lyney x f!reader smau

𝑆𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 —

Second year of university should've been everything you thought of it - more studying with human interaction sprinkled throught... What it definitely wasn't supposed to be was an investigation saga where one of your friends goes missing out of nowhere

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — 𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐸𝑃𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐷𝐸

As the meeting approached, [Y/N]’s nerves became more evident. She was hunched over her laptop, polishing her slides for the presentation on their opponent. This wasn’t just a university project for credit — it’s serious. Her sleepless nights were etched into her appearance, with dark circles under her eyes and a tired, drooping gaze.

If you asked, [Y/N] would insist she’s fine, brushing off any mention of fatigue. In truth, burying herself in this project has been a way to block out her growing feelings for Lyney and keep Clorinde’s judgement at a safe distance from her thoughts. 

Over the past few days, she and Lyney had gathered a significant amount of information. Beyond the startling discovery of Marcel’s connection to the Dean of Arts and Humanities department, they’d uncovered another strange, yet valid for his character: he was an intense fan of Lolita. His Facebook page was littered with quotes from the novel — far too many for comfort, given the circumstances. 

In the end, one question continued to baffle her — figuring out his motive. If their timeline was correct, he had stopped pursuing Furina as soon as she left the theatre troupe, with no suspicious activity on his part until March of this year. 

[Y/N] muttered to herself, trying to make sense of it, her laptop balancing on her knees. The screen showed the slide on Marcel’s background: a graduate of their university who had majored in performance arts but never made it big. By all appearances, it was likely the dean who had handed him the assistant position — a clear case of nepotism, or something close to it. 

“And who do we have here, hmm?” Lyney’s voice came from behind [Y/N], making her jump out of her skin. In her startled attempt to back away, she nearly sent her laptop flying. Luckily, Lyney was quick; with one hand, he steadied her, while his other caught her laptop just in time, saving her and her work from disaster. 

“Y-You—“ [Y/N] stammered, bending forward to catch her breath and regain her composure. Lyney’s hand remained around her waist, even as he leaned down to carefully place the laptop on the coffee table beside her former seat. It took her a while to settle down, her brain not letting go of thinking about his touch. 

Once the laptop was safely down, Lyney straightened up, his gaze teasing but warm. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. 

[Y/N] shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-flustered. “You did that on purpose.” 

“Who knows, maybe I did,” he admitted, a smirk on his lips. “But I couldn’t resist. You’ve been buried in this thing lately—  Was starting to think you’d forgotten all about me~” 

Lyney and his sly words. Her cheeks felt warmer, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the open laptop. “Hardly. I’m preparing… for the meeting, you know.” 

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Right, of course, the meeting.” Then, after a pause, his tone softened. “But really, don’t overwork yourself. I can help if you need it.” 

“Absolutely not, Lyney.” [Y/N] pouted, looking at him. “You were the one to collect information, it’s only fair I prepare the presentation, right.” 

Lyney raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. “Are you saying I wouldn’t make an impressive presenter?” 

[Y/N] rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. “I think you’d make too much of a spectacle of it. We’re trying to inform everyone about that dick, not put on a magic show. Besides your father is going to be there…” 

He placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded by her words. “Ouch. But I suppose you’re right — I’d steal the show, no bet.” He gave a small, playful shrug before taking his hand off her waist and meeting her gaze. “Still, I’ll be there by your side. Give me the cue, and I’ll jump to your aid, like a knight on a horse in shining armour.” 

“Thanks, Lyney.” She murmured, her voice quieter than she’d intended. How could she not have fallen for a guy like him? Despite his teasing nature, he was always there to aid her whenever possible. Even when she hadn’t felt like doing anything or crying her eyes out at feeling useless. 

Heavens above, it was high time to regain her focus… the meeting was coming soon. 

“The party has arrived!~” Furina sings, sweeping into the vacation house as Lyney holds the door open for her. Wriothesley and Neuvillette followed close behind, each wearing an expression of subtle relief — it was their first time seeing him since that fateful day. 

“Good to see the squad in one piece.” Lyney greets them with a small smile, though his eyes linger on Wriothesley and Neuvillette, sensing the weight of unspoken words. There is tension in the air, a mix of concern and gratitude, as if just seeing him there, welcoming them with his usual charm, is enough to ease some of their lingering worries. 

Furina, as oblivious as ever to the atmosphere, spins around the room, hands on her hips. “So, where’s your girl? Surely she hasn’t run off to do even more work?” 

Lyney chuckles, mentioning them towards the living room. “Not my girl, first of all— Second, she’s still wondering how to fix the tension between her, Clorinde and Charlotte…” 

“They still haven’t reconciled?” Neuvillette asks surprise in his tone. “From their dynamic, it would seem like they’d let go of their argument quite swiftly if I do say so myself.” 

Wriothesley meanwhile, rolls his eyes at Lyney’s words, though a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Not your girl, ‘Mr. My body is telling me to make her feel better’. He teases. 

“Shut the fuck up, Wrio,” Lyney says as the faintest blush creeps up. He’s leading them to the living room, where everything for their meeting is already prepared — a projector, some snacks and a lot of sitting space. This room was often used as a gathering spot for the children to watch movies, whenever Father permitted them to use the house. 

“Oh, you’re early?” [Y/N]’s voice echoes as she enters the room, empty glasses in hand. “Weren’t we supposed to meet at 5?” She sets the glasses on the coffee table before looking at her phone. It reads as 4:45 pm. 

“Being fifteen minutes early is the standard, darling.” Furina comes up, raising her hands to hug her as a welcome gesture. “Glad to see you’re all right.” 

“Likewise,” The girls give each other a warm, but short, hug as [Y/N] greets Wriothesley and Neuvillette, who are standing next to Lyney. “Nice to see you too, guys.” 

“Good afternoon to you too, Ms. [Y/N].” 

“We’re still waiting on the girls… as well as Father,” Lyney says, sharing a gaze with [Y/N]. “Make yourselves at home, sillies. I’ll help [Y/N] with the last things, all right?” 

“Alrighty~” 

A knock on the door brings the chatter between [Y/N] and the Beverage Gang to an abrupt halt. They exchanged glances, knowing exactly who it was. Just moments earlier, as they’d finished setting up the table Lyney had received a message from The Knave. She was informing him she’d be arriving late due to a traffic jam on the highway.

“Guess they finally made it,” Wriothesley mutters, adjusting his jacket, while Neuvillette offers a small nod.

Lyney gives [Y/N] a reassuring look before moving toward the door. “Time to make them feel welcome,” He says, his tone lighthearted, with a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As much as he plays it off, he knows the meeting can bring a fair share of tension — between the subject of the meeting as well as Clorinde’s presence… with her recent conflict with [Y/N]

With a quick breath, he opens the door, revealing Navia, Clorinde and Charlotte standing just outside. Navia smiles cheerfully, giving Lyney a brief nod as she steps inside, Clorinde follows behind with her usual stoic expression, and Charlotte brings up the rear with a friendly wave. 

“Glad to see everyone’s made it safe and sound!” The blonde announced, beaming as she headed straight for the living room. She greets each person with her characteristic enthusiasm, stopping by [Y/N] to share a warm side hug. “Ah, it’s good to see you, [Y/N].”

The girl returned the hug, a small smile breaking through. “You too, Nav, you too.” 

As Navia settles in beside her, Lyney joins them, casting a glance in Clorinde’s direction. Her expression is unreadable, although, he can notice a glint of sadness in her eyes. He wishes inside that Clorinde and Charlotte are here to make amends with [Y/N]. 

After a moment of quiet, Navia clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Well, are we good to start the meeting now?” She glances around the room, her gaze lingering on each person, a gentle reminder of the unity they need tonight. 

“Lyney,” Furina turns to him. “We’re still waiting for The Knave… right?” 

“Yep, that’s right,” He stands up, moving closer towards where [Y/N]’s laptop is — connected to their projector. “She knows what [Y/N]’s gonna talk about soo… we can start without her.” 

Charlotte nods, leaning back slightly in her seat. “All right then, let’s get started.” 

The group eyes the projector screen with interest as Lyney connects everything, casting [Y/N] an encouraging look. “The floor is yours,” he says, giving her a reassuring smile. He can feel the slight glances of his friends eyeing his every move — trying to find proof of him crushing on [Y/N] and so on. 

“Actually,” Clorinde speaks up, eyes dead straight on [Y/N]. “Could I ask what you’re going to be talking about? As far as I’m aware Wriothesley had conclusions regarding the location.” 

Oh. That’s right. Neither she nor Lyney have ever mentioned they had figured out who the kidnapper is. Well, The Knave had been made aware… but nobody else. 

“What else would there to be talking about?” Clorinde enquires, the sheer coldness in her voice noticeable to everyone present. “We do not know who the kidnapper is.” 

“Who says we don’t?” [Y/N] strikes back, her answer sending the room into silence. 

Clorinde’s eyes narrow, and a flicker of surprise flashes across Wriothesley’s face as he exchanges a glance with Neuvillette. The weight of [Y/N]’s words hangs heavy in the hair, thickening the silence which follows. 

Furina leans forward, eyes wide with intrigue. “Wait… you mean to say—“

“Yes,” [Y/N] interrupts, steady and resolute. “We know who the kidnapper is. And the presentation has all the evidence to support our guess.” 

Lyney steps closer to her, arms crossed but supportive, his gaze shifting to Clorinde. “We’ve been holding back certain information… for mental health reasons.” He knows he’s being passive-aggressive, but there’s something so correct after everything [Y/N] had to go through. 

“Mental health reasons?” Neuvillette questions. “I’m aware this matter is quite crucial for the two of you, but others?” 

“Well,” [Y/N] sighs, turning her eyes back to the projector. “How about you see? And then ask questions.” 

“Without much introduction,” [Y/N] resumed. “Here’s the person behind all the kidnappings.” 

“Furina,” Lyney perks up, getting her attention. “Close your eyes, just in case.”

Furina’s curiosity piques at his suggestion, and her expression shifts between intrigue and unease. She hesitates, not quite ready to see her tormentor of the previous year. She finally closes her eyes, murmuring, “Fine, fine, just tell me when it’s safe.” 

The second slide pops up. With an image of Marcel Dubois right and centre. It’s him — Furina’s stalker. The group’s attention turned black to the screen, where his image — cold, calculated, and all too familiar to those who knew him from university… or from dealing with the theatre troupe’s management. Silence washes over the room as each person processes what this means.

“That fucking guy?” Wriothesley stands up, flabbergasted. “He’s the one who not only kidnapped the girls… but also threatened Furina a fucking year ago?” 

[Y/N] nods, her voice steady as she continues, “He’s a former student, a performance arts major. And well… the manager of the theatre troupe. That’s how he managed to get close to three of his victims… as for Lynette…” 

“She’s the outlier.”

“Precisely.” 

“Is he the… son of the dean?” 

“Yes.” [Y/N] gave everyone a grim nod. “He’s the son of the Dean of Arts and Humanities. His influence and connections within the university must’ve kept Marcel protected. Can’t be caught, if you don’t start an actual investigation, am I right?” 

Lyney clicked to the next slide, which outlined their evidence, including patterns of his movement and his online prescience — posts and quotes from Lolita that had, in retrospect, revealed more than anyone realised. 

“While I can’t still figure out why he had committed those crimes…” [Y/N] continued. “Lynette is most likely a singular ‘deviation’. It could be him using her to not only taunt us but to show he can be unpredictable.” 

“A desire for power is a simple enough explanation, Miss [Y/N].” A deep voice says, getting louder as the person enters from their previous spot, back in the darkness of the unlit room. “I commend you for your findings.” 

“Madame… Knave?” [Y/N] murmurs, eyes widening as the woman steps into the light. Her imposing presence seems to command the room, just as it did back when they had first met. Beside her stands a tall figure, whose sharp gaze and police badge immediately signal their purpose. 

The Knave’s eyes sweep over the room, lingering slightly as they pass her protégé before she gives a polite nod. “Good evening, everyone. I apologise for my late arrival, yet it seems I came just in time.” Her voice is smooth, yet steely, carrying a weight that silences any lingering doubt in the air. 

The officer beside her adjusts his badge. “I have been briefed on the situation,” he says, looking directly and [Y/N] and Lyney. “Thanks to your compiled evidence, and some swift verification, it is enough to warrant immediate investigation. We have gathered court permission to enter his house tomorrow at the earliest.” 

Charlotte lets out a small light, crossing her arms. “It’s actually happening. We’re finally going to rescue the victims.”

Knave meets her gaze with a small nod. “That would be correct, Ms. Charlotte. With your combined efforts, we now have the leverage to proceed cautiously but decisively.” She looks again to [Y/N]. “The presentation was thorough. The shadows you were once treading are no more — this is concrete evidence.” 

[Y/N] feels a surge of relief mixed with apprehension. This was it. After all the sleepless nights, carefully digging and gathering information, they had finally brought Marcel into the light. But as she looked around, she could see similar apprehension in the eyes of her friends.

“So… what happens next?” Furina asks softly, her trembling voice breaking the silence. While she didn’t look at the slides directly, the conversation between her friends told her directly who was behind everything. It’s maddening… how sick in the head Marcel truly is. 

“It all depends on how long it takes to find out the place where the kidnapped women are.” The officer looks at each of them in turn. “But rest assured, his days of preying on anyone are over.” 

“Except,” Wriothesley interrupts. “We are aware of where they are, as well as crucial information about said location.” 

Wriothesley’s presentation is much shorter. Over the past few days, he had managed to pinpoint all points of entry as well as note all camera locations — the latter done before the knowledge of having a court order. Surprisingly, the vacation house near Mary-Ann’s National Park is nowhere near as small as they predicted initially. Not to mention it having been built on top of unsuitable ground after all the chaos that had transpired years before. 

The officer nods, studying the images. “This does shorten our work. With the knowledge of the building, we can orchestrate an operation that avoids detection. We shall be coordinating with local authorities tonight. The plan is to have a surveillance team in place early tomorrow morning, with the tactical team ready to move as soon as we confirm the victim’s presence.” 

“Be sure,” Clorinde perks up. “To have a medical staff available. Heavens know what situation some of the victims are.” 

“But of course.” 

After this confirmation, the Knave and the officer bid the group farewell. It’s a long night ahead for everybody involved, and starting as soon as possible is highly appreciated. 

Furina, still shaken, looks to [Y/N] and Lyney with a spark of courage in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice laced with gratitude. “For piecing this all together. For saving Lynette and everyone else. I… I know I should have said this sooner.” 

[Y/N] gives her a soft smile, squeezing her friend’s hand. “We all worked together. It wouldn’t have been possible without everyone’s support.” 

“[Y/N],” Clorinde says, walking up to the girl with Charlotte by her side. “Would you spare us a minute?” The girl in question is chatting with Navia, both excited to hopefully see Lynette as soon as tomorrow. 

Out of nowhere, the tension, which has felt light ever since the departure of the Knave and accompanying police officer, is heavy once more. This simple interaction brings not only the girls to a stop… but also the Beverage Gang members. 

“Of course.” [Y/N] glances a Navia, who offers a supportive nod, before she turns to face Clorinde and Charlotte. She feels a knot in her stomach, a stark contrast to the relief she had felt moments ago.

Charlotte’s expression is gentle, almost apologetic, while Clorinde maintains her usual composed demeanour, though there’s an unspoken weight in her gaze. “I owe you an apology,” She begins, her voice steady but softer than usual. “For how I treated you… and for not taking your feelings into account.” 

Charlotte steps forward, her face sincere. “Even though your methods have been quite radical… You’ve done so much, for all of us. I’m sorry, for petitioning to exclude you too…” 

[Y/N] stands there, momentarily taken aback, a rush of emotions flashing through her. She takes a breath, feeling the tension finally start to loosen. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice warm. “It means a lot, truly.” 

Clorinde nods, a hint of relief crossing her face. “I hope we can move forward, together.” 

Before she can respond, Lyney’s hand settles reassuringly on her shoulder, grounding her. “Well…” His tone is uncertain. “You did put this lovely lady into quite a lot of distress. Not to mention, you tried to exclude me too?” 

Clorinde stiffens slightly, her gaze flicking to Lyney, who's watching her with a raised brow and a smirk that doesn’t hide his protective stance beside [Y/N].

“Yes, Lyney,” she says, a slight sigh escaping her, “We did exclude you both. And yet, perhaps you were right to push ahead without waiting for us. Your determination has shown us what we couldn’t see in our hesitation.” She looks directly at [Y/N]. “While I cannot support your means of gathering evidence, you have been braver than I gave you credit for.” 

Charlotte chimes in, her tone soothing. “Like, I’m not gonna say I’m better than you… But those were some really dangerous methods, you both. Sorry, again.” 

Lyney’s expression softens as he looks at the two, his smirk fading to something more genuine. “Apology accepted,” he says with a nod, squeezing [Y/N]’s shoulder once more and pointing at her with his other hand. “This girl has done so fucking much over the past few weeks, I’d be an idiot not to trust her, you know.” 

In the dimly lit interior of Neuvillette’s car with Wriothesley behind the wheel, Furina reclines in her back seat, arms crossed as she remarks on that scene on their way back. Her teasing smirk is in place as she raises a brow at Wriothesley, who is focused on the road, but sneaks a quick amused glance her way. “He definitely has a crush on her.” 

“Lyney has always been a charmer,” Wriothesley remarks, amusement in his voice. “But I’ll admit, he usually plays it a bit cooler. He’s thrown in his lot with her.” 

Furina taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “It’s really sweet, the way he rushed in like that. He’s more protective than I had expected.” 

“Well,” Neuvillette interrupts. “I think it’s quite expected of Lyney.” 

Furina turns her attention to Neuvillette, sitting beside her. “Oh? Do tell, Neuvi. You think Lyney’s… predictable?” 

Neuvillette clears his throat, shaking his head. “Not predictable. Just… earnest. Lyney cares deeply for those he considers important, us included. When he decides someone’s worth his trust, he’ll stand by them without hesitation.” 

Furina leans back, clearly intrigued. “I know, I know, silly~ Our magician is an open book when you think about it long enough.” She chuckles, but her tone is more appreciative than mocking. 

“Then why ask the question?” 

“Ugh… annoying. For the plot, perhaps?” 

Wriothesley chuckles, nodding to the road ahead. “Let’s leave the theatrics to you and Lyney. But I have to say, I’m curious how this ‘plot’ of theirs unfolds.” 

Tomorrow will bring the final act of their hard work — a risky rescue, with everything on the line. But tonight, they can finally take a breath, together.

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — CLOSED

@state-of-grac3 @santaluna @meigalaxy @romyoia

@meurtreofcrows @charles-braindump @floweringanna @moonjellyfishie @vavrin @lovelypadisarah @dearanemo

@dearanemo @ladylee

date of posting — november 20th 2024

[adamnablelittledevil]

What did you think about that moment in chapter 24?! I'm dying to know!

(The part that starts "I looked down on Lestat, who was unchanged...")

Hey! I'm sorry I couldn't answer it immediately and you had to wait, but I wanted to give this a proper answer with all my thoughts, so I hope this was worthwile and and makes up for it. 😉🙃 Anyway, here we go… I already knew what was going to happen, so, I was counting the pages to finally get to the chapter. And when I did, man, it did not disappoint.

Obviously, that wasn't romantic, but it was such a meaningful, intimate, delicate and tender moment that it felt even more powerful to me. Yes, part of the reason Armand went there was to get answers and try to quiet the anguish in his heart, but most of it was genuinely love. Which is why he returns, approaches, touches and shows Lestat affection again, even after drinking his blood. And it speaks volumes how Armand had all the reasons to keep a safe distance and yet he didn't flinch or even hesitate. And not only he approached Lestat, but also touched him, multiple times, and kept getting bolder and bolder with those gestures and 'pushing his luck'. Whether Armand was willing to take the risk of Lestat having a negative/defensive reaction or knew he would allow it by mere instinct, this is a proof of how deep their bond goes and how far they have come in their relationship. And from Lestat's side as well, because Armand was the only person he gave his consent to get near at the time and that was a huge thing. It was overall a really big and turning point in their relationship. And it's one of my favorite Lesmand/The Vampire Armand/The Vampire Chronicles moments as a whole.

And as if it isn't enough that it's such a monumental event on its own, it's so poetic too. The fact it happens in a chapel, they are both silent, Armand's tear falls on Lestat's cheek… It's all about the aesthetics, the body language, facial expressions etc. The imagery is so delicate and beautiful. The wording is stunning as well. Specially for this line:

"I tried to keep my heart absolutely pure of pride and pure of anything but love. It was not differentiated or defined, this love, but only love […]"

This has become one of my favorite quotes ever, maybe even my ultimate favorite from The Vampire Chronicles. I absolutely love the idea of a love that can't be classified, nor separated in different boxes, but instead defies all definitions and simply transcends. And when she wanted to, Anne Rice knew how to execute the concept brilliantly on her books. She even knew how to elevate and still manage to make it better almost two decades later. When she went on Facebook to further elaborate on it from Lestat's point of view, it just made my heart ache in the best way. I mean, the screenshot below speaks for itself.

Plus, if the show does that in the future, in any shape or form, it would be incredible. I'm such a sucker for scenes that are more complicated and primarily rely on the talent/chemistry of the performers and the actors need to work twice, three times as hard to execute them. Silent, scenes where the actors don't touch, phonecalls where they can't look at or feed off of each other in any way… I like to call them 'raw scenes' and they're usually my favorite on any show/movie I watch, including Interview With the Vampire. I can see it being a mix of Aragorn taking care of Eowyn after she was wounded

and Lizzy and Mr. Darcy dancing,

filmed and edited in a way that makes the people around them disappear for a moment and slowly reappear at the end, just like the way Armand described how the situation felt here:

"There was no chapel then for me, or outraged sighs or reverential cries. I heard nothing, and yet knew what was all around. I knew it as if the substantial place was but a phantasm, for what was real was his blood."

I'm personally obsessed with that trick and find it so sophisticated and mind-blowing that it frustrates me how it's barely used? So, I always appreciate it whenever I see it. And I also just know that Assad would be phenomenal at that, because he's already been doing that kind of acting for two whole seasons now. I can see him being soft, gentle and even somewhat tragic and I just know the affection and pain in his eyes would kill me in the best possible way. I could even see it becoming part of my top 5 moments on the series, maybe even my number #1. Right now my favorite clips are the 1x01 church sequence, the 2x08 loustat reunion and armandiel's last scene on 2x05. However, considering how much I love this moment and pretty much all things lesmand, they can easily become just as big of an obsession, possibly even bigger in future seasons (they already are my #1 on the books). I mean, the scene they have alone already makes my heart skip several beats because the chemistry was magnetic and irresistible,

that eye contact was *INTENSE* and I felt the sparks all the way over here. Felt like I was witnessing something that I shouldn't lol, but I was happy to invade their privacy because it was simply mesmerizing.

Anywaaaay… Hopefully, that will happen on the show someday, even if the context and circumstances of it may differ. Still, regardless if they do a version of it or not, that will remain a wonderful part of the book and that gladly I will never move on from.

[becauseanders]

EDIT: FALSE ALARM, THE URA IS NOT DEMOLISHING RANDYLAND

So I know a lot of Pittsburghers, obviously myself included, panicked when this hit social media:

[ID: A piece of white paper posted over a painted Randyland sign. At the top of the original sign you can read the words, “Keep clean thanks, Randyland.” The paper reads, “Demolition Notice. Randyland Gardens (Established 20 Years Ago). 1400 Block Jacksonia St. and Arch St. 30 Day Notice. June 2, 2023. For more information, please contact Pittsburgh URA.” End ID.]

I even saw a screenshot in the comments on this Facebook post (which has now also been edited) that Randy Gilson himself posted about complaints from a neighbor and saying goodbye to the space, using the words “today the world picks on happy people and happiness everywhere” (except his version was in all caps). However.

The Pittsburgh Urban Redevelopment Authority is not taking Randyland down. I don’t know if Randy just panicked about the complaint, as local social media did, or what exactly happened, but there is no need to contact the URA, they did not put up that sign neither are they planning to destroy Randyland.

I had emailed when I saw the “news,” and this is the response I received from Tanika Harris of the Pittsburgh URA:

[ID: A screenshot from an email with the subject line “Randyland/URA Communication.” The body of the email reads, “Good Afternoon, Thank you for reaching out! The Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) has no intention of demolishing the community garden, affectionately known as Randyland. The demolition sign that was posted on Friday, June 2 did not come from the URA or any of our affiliates. The URA has been in conversation with Randy Gilson, Community Garden Curator and Councilman Bobby Wilson. We are committed to ensuring a safe space for all residents and will continue to work with our partners to bring about clarity, transparency, and community.” End ID.]

So I apologize for the quick reaction, I know I’m not the only one who freaked out and I am sure the URA has been absolutely flooded with emails and phone calls about this. It sounds like Randy is the one who put up the sign and while I still do not fully understand what went down, Randyland is not in danger from the URA.

So spread this word, I guess, especially to fellow Pittsburghers.

[hopelesslyhopeful11]

It’s VassIAN, not VassIEN: The Correct SJM Ship

I’ve seen the argument that Vassa and Lucien (VassIEN) will end up together and it makes no sense from an SJM standpoint. Not when Vassa and Jurian (Vassian) are right there!!

1. I present to you, honorable citizens, the evidence as told by text and SJM herself:

Exhibit A. Vassa was able to see through Jurian immediately (Chapter 54 of ACOWAR)

From Feyre with Rhysand; Cassian with Nesta; Rowan with Aelin, SJM notoriously writes about how her endgame couples are able to see through one another clearly. And Jurian has a history of being unreadable and even his best friend of years, Mor, wasn’t able to see through him, but this mortal queen he just met can? Seems more than a coin-winky-dink to me

Exhibit B. They are at each others throats just as SJM likes to write for many other endgame couples.

As you can see here, SJM loves writing couples (top images is from bottom left image is from Chapter 17 of ACOWAR) who are constantly at each others throats in a good way. She even admits so in this interview and her Facebook comment back in 2016 but the specific quote is “As soon as Nesta sat down at the table with Cassian, it was DONE for both of them—I literally could not keep them from each others throats (in the best way possible)”

Exhibit C. The banter is classic SJM endgame material.

The teasing and tension is screaming from the page. SJM says that banter is a clue for her endgame couples. What more do we need?

Exhibit D. They are two people working together to build the same vision for the future of their kingdom and people and honestly the same reactions to things

To mortals who are already working well together to build their kingdom in a good balance and have shown that they have endgame potential? Yeah it just makes sense

Exhibit E. Unreadable faces making pretty damning cases.

Across the maasiverse, people have unreadable faces when they are trying to mask emotions, I.e. Rhys all of ACOMAF and Nesta in ACOWAR—ACOSF. So what is Jurian hiding? Given everything else, one could safely bet his true feelings for the Firebird Mortal Queen.

In conclusion,

creds to @acourtdelaluna for her help with these points!!

[bethelctpride]

How to find the local queer people when there don't appear to be any queer events nearby

are you sure there are no events?

Because they're a lot more common than you think, but you have to look in the right place! The social media algorithm sadly will not feed them to you. You will generally have to go through at least one layer of introduction before you meet folks directly.

Yes, this is a bit of a secret social club. Because many of these people lived through being too public might get you raided by cops or get you dead. They're rightfully cautious. They want to make sure people showing up aren't there to do harm. And the more rural the area, the tougher it will be to find people, but they're definitely THERE and likely having the same thoughts that nobody else is there.

Queer social activities are overwhelmingly run by middle aged folks (who have time, money, skills, and energy to do so) and they tend to use different social media because that's where they originally built communities!

The advice here for hunting down groups assumes you are an adult who can figure out logistics and safety of contacting other adults and getting yourself somewhere safely.

For social media, check Facebook and Meetup. These are most likely to have large local-ish groups putting on events. Join some groups. Many may be private and require approval before you see content. Even if there's not one immediately nearby, join the closest one, whatever "close" is. Even if it's not a perfect fit, they generally know the other even smaller groups nearby and may give you an invite to closer group or even direct contact info for The Local Guy where you text him.

Next up, Instagram. You'll pick up some folks a little younger and more business and pop up events this way. Sometimes you may not see an event until after it happened! Message the person and ask when next one is. Good odds there's a repeat.

Still no luck? Check out specific types of businesses/orgs in your area that tend to have an overlap. Maybe the local bar or coffee shop has a gay night once a month. Check their posts for last month, or if you can filter by date, look specifically in June. If they had one, message and ask about if they have an upcoming one. Even if they don't, they may put you in contact with organizer from past one.

For organizations, check for groups serving HIV+ populations and the neurospicy. Even if you fall into neither category, because of the overlap, there's good odds they offer specific services FOR queer folk. Contact them and they'll know who in the area is putting on events.

Check furry groups. Generally they do most organization via Telegram, which will require an invite. Find the nearest furry convention, check to see if they have a message board. Search for telegram. there's likely one attached to the convention and asking there of "hey, is there a furry telegram group that covers X area?" there will be one. I hope you like bowling, because this is by far the most common non-convention furry event.

(and if your reaction is EW Furries, you need to kill the little Puritan living in your head that hates people having fun doing stuff in a way you think is Cringe. Bowling is not that uncool.)

Still no luck? Now you're going to have to go search for individual queers in the wild! Your best luck is going to be with three other types of groups: 1. SOME Church activities 2. activities that attract the neurospicy (train groups, collecting groups, etc)

3. Tiny specialty groups where everyone is old and its in danger of dying out

If you're really rural sometimes the ONLY group doing any activities is the local church. If they're listed as "open and affirming" that's what you want. Unitarians and Congregationalists are most likely to fit that definition. But you should be able to run web search for that exact phase of "open and affirming church" + "your town" and it'll show you SOMETHING nearby. You may still come up with nothing, but the ones that are doing that tend to be really dedicated, so they will have info about what local groups are friendly to queers, if not open about that. They will also have non-religious activities like knitting or potluck even if you don't want to go to a service.

Neurospicy activities- check your surrounding libraries for activities as well. Even if you're not that brand of spicy, the overlap is high. Find an activity you are reasonably interested in and go meet locals. You'll find out which ones are queer after a few meetings. Often it will turn out everyone is and nobody said anything until one person does. (like our local hackerspace. secret trans hangout)

Endangered skills- do you really want to learn some weird, specialty skill that's dying out? Ask around. call the senior center and have them post a note. Post at the library. stick a thing on a bulletin board at the grocery store. Pick something you are GENUINELY interested in learning like flint knapping, or how to cook a regional dish, local history, how to spin llama wool. Weirder and more endangered the better. Post several! Give them a way to contact you by phone. Unless they are horrendously bigoted up front, you are about to learn a skill and once you disclose "hey I'm gay", you are about to be introduced to every solitary queer in the area that is a friend of a friends' granddaughter's classmate. Often your mentor won't quite GET it, but you're their favorite person now so they're trying. And as you get introduced, suddenly the local flint knapping group is also the queer flint knapping group! and you should post on social media about your cool new activity and SURPRISE, you found them all! Also they now all have cool knives. win-win!

[kirk-goes-to-gallifrey]

tumblr has really spoiled me

guess I'm lucky to have a nice lil bubble here and to never have had a post break containment so whenever I post something I never get any reaction that bothers me, it's usually just a nice safe place to be

and I don't have any other socials really (Facebook is for work so whatever and mastodon is composed of a handful of people lol) but sometimes I try and make a comment on a show on the TV time app and... let's say there isn't a single time when I don't receive the most insane unbelievable replies

like what the hell - is this what the rest of the internet is like? People have no filter? And there seems to be no-one worried about the same things you are???

Like my last comment was on a show called Shrinking that I used to like very much but that I feel got derailed a bit. I commented that I think I'm gonna drop the show now that they decided to force the character who explicitly didn't want kids to have a kid (wow suddenly he only didn't want kids because he had trauma and now he figured out he really wants to be a parent! How touching) and on top of that they introduced some narrative that the military is a good place for ex-addicts to start over and get their shit together LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

And I expected at least SOMEONE would agree with me that these things are fucked up but nope. All replies are telling me how much I'm exaggerating and that these things are not so important to the story and I'm oversensitive and whatever excuse me if I care about the underlying political implications of a plot :)

[dhr-ao3]

An Inconvenient Bond

An Inconvenient Bond https://ift.tt/r3F1qzE by FanFicLover1990 Draco Malfoy always felt... different. At the Hogwarts Yule Ball, Draco Malfoy discovers that Hermione Granger is his Veela mate, an unexpected bond that forces him to confront emotions he never anticipated. Draco, torn between his pureblood values and allegiance to the Death Eaters, and Hermione, resisting the pull to someone she once considered an enemy. Despite their differences, the bond grows stronger, causing emotional and physical reactions neither can ignore. During their final years at Hogwarts, the bond complicates everything. Draco’s veela instincts make him possessive and protective, conflicting with his role as a Death Eater and forcing him to keep the connection a secret. Meanwhile, Hermione fights the attraction, unsure of what the bond means for her future and keeping her safe. After the war, both Draco and Hermione are scarred, and the bond becomes both a comfort and a source of tension. Draco’s guilt and Hermione’s lingering mistrust make things difficult, even as their feelings deepen for each other. Despite the many challenges and complexities, they realise over time that they are stronger as bonded mates, slowly building a life grounded in trust, understanding, and love. Words: 803, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English Fandoms: Dramione - Fandom Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Additional Tags: Community: Dramione FanFiction Forum, Community: dramionedrabble, Facebook: Dramione Fanfiction Writers, Community: dramione_remix, Discord: Dramione Writers' Society, Dramione Month 2024, The Mourning Madam's Once Upon A Time Dramione Fairy Tale Fest, Community: dramione_duet, Dramione Fanfiction Writers's Deal or No Deal Challenges 2024, Dramione Fanfiction Writers's Deal or No Deal Challenges 2021, POV Hermione Granger, Adult Hermione Granger, POV Draco Malfoy, Good Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Harry Potter, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, Supportive Harry Potter, Supportive Lucius Malfoy, Slow Burn Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/5qGB0xR November 08, 2024 at 07:29AM

[sociocosmos]

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[mariacallous]

After Russia’s February 2022 invasion of Ukraine, VKontakte — Russia’s answer to Facebook — saw a boom in online dating groups for women seeking relationships with soldiers. The promise of love and stability with a man in uniform has drawn many, but those romantic illusions often fall flat in the face of reality. Women have reported being duped into sending nudes or finding out their new boyfriends (or even long-time fiancés) have secret families. On the flip side, soldiers have complained of being scammed for money or feeling disappointed not to find the adoring, submissive partners they imagined. Meduza summarizes a Sever.Realii (a Radio Liberty project) investigation into what draws people to these groups and what goes on inside them.

Vasilisa, a 44-year-old from Russia’s Leningrad region, thought she’d found lasting love with a contract soldier serving in Ukraine. They’d first met in a military dating group on the Russian social network VKontakte. He showered her with flowers and gifts, and they even talked about marriage — until she discovered, to her horror, that he had multiple girlfriends across different cities and even a child.

Vasilisa’s story is common among women connecting with soldiers online. Many have been misled, tricked into intimate relationships, or persuaded into sending revealing photos, only to later learn the men were married with kids. Soldiers, meanwhile, report being targeted by women seeking money or offering sex services.

Marina from Omsk says soldiers frequently ask her for intimate photos. “I refused. It’s always the same routine: ‘You’re so beautiful, you look like my future wife. I’m an old soldier who’s never known love… Show me your boobs,’” she said. “They’d ask me to show this or that, and I’d block them right away,” adds Valeria from St. Petersburg.

Since the war began, VKontakte has seen a surge in military dating groups, drawing tens of thousands of members. In some ways, these groups are like any other dating platforms: people post photos, share hobbies, and describe the kind of partner they’re seeking. But photos of soldiers in uniform tend to get big reactions. “Man, looking at you makes me want to cook borscht,” one woman writes under a photo of a man holding a gun. “Handsome,” and “Let’s chat,” write others.

Vasilisa, whose father was a career officer, didn’t give up on finding love in military dating groups even after breaking up with the “womanizer and alcoholic.” “We understand each other better; after all, I grew up in a military family. And, actually, I’ve already found someone,” she said. Her new partner is a marine. She worries about him being at the front, but he reaches out whenever he can to reassure her he’s safe. After learning about her past heartbreak, he gave her all his social media passwords to prove he has nothing to hide. “God finally gave me a decent man after all I’ve been through,” she said. “People say men like him are ‘reliable as a Kalashnikov.’”

Soldiers, too, report being scammed by women. Nikolai, who posted his profile in a VKontakte group, was quickly contacted by Nastya, who soon asked if he had a Sberbank account and then requested small amounts of money, claiming she needed it to order sushi. Nikita says that many women he chats with in these groups end up asking for money, often using stories about sick children or financial troubles. “I block them immediately,” he said.

“You start having a normal conversation, and they immediately play on your sympathy — one had a broken phone screen, another claimed she was trapped in debt,” said Dmitry, another serviceman. “We’re here living on our own dime, and you’re asking soldiers for money. Aren’t you ashamed?”

Artyom has been active in these groups for a long time but hasn’t found anyone he considers worthwhile. “We need young, capable women who are ready to build a life with a soldier and have lots of kids, fulfilling the president’s directive, and, of course, enjoying the privileges and support that come with the brotherhood of servicemen,” he complained.

Many of the women in these groups say they’re looking for love and stability. Elizaveta, a 35-year-old from the Tyumen region, is searching for a “real man,” while Olga, a 51-year-old from Rostov, dreams of finding a serviceman who can provide her with reliability, protection, and support. Ksenia from St. Petersburg says she admires the heroism, bravery, and resilience of the men on the front lines. “It excites the female imagination!” she said.

But Nadezhda, whose husband has been on the front for two years, believes these women don’t fully understand the brutal reality of war or the challenges that come with it. “The media has created this Rambo-like image of soldiers, where scars only add to their allure. Women think they’ll get a wealthy, rugged protector. But in reality, a man returning from war — or, worse, discharged — often needs rehabilitation and long-term treatment. Health problems and psychological issues surface once they’re back in civilian life,” she said.

A psychologist from the Without Prejudice project echoes this, noting that the glorification of soldiers has distorted public perception. “The heroic aura surrounding these men is manufactured and relies on the fact that most people have no real understanding of what happens on the front lines or what heroism actually looks like,” the psychologist explained. “In ordinary life, the same actions would be seen as extreme cruelty, but propaganda reprograms that image and glorifies it. A soldier is always seen as a protector, that ‘rock-solid wall’ you want to be behind. And PTSD symptoms don’t seem as alarming in a society where domestic violence has been normalized.”

[shouts-into-the-void]

Just read a Facebook post from the parent of an autistic child who would only eat a few specific foods in which the gist of it was:

"We couldn't get him to try anything new 😞 We tried sneaking things into his safe foods, force-feeding him, and starving him but nothing worked! Then, we had this amazing idea to try actual parenting and he miraculously started trying new foods!"

And my instant reaction was to go "Wtf is wrong with this person" but the entire comment section was full of "Omg so inspirational 🥹" as if this parent's first option being to starve their child over treating them like a human being was not horrifying and a great example of the dehumanizing of disabled and neurodivergent children

[lazarusondown]

(… - it's none of my god damn business what's in the cup, but it's a beautiful thing, man. But … it's not a beautiful thing, cause nobody knows what's in the cup That's the whole thing - unless you come up and drink what's in my cup, then how can you say it's a beautiful thing? Also, When people drink alcohol, they react So whatever the hell was in my cup, the only reaction I did was get more popular, more successful, did a lot more things than I've ever done, picked up a guitar, learned how to play it, learned how to turn put on the auto-tune and stretch my voice, I probably should pick that cup back up)

I swore not to care, but on that night I couldn't help it I took out all of my shame on a random guy who probably liked me And that night it was the obvious first time you were disappointed I spewed out that irresponsible mantra, "I’m sorry I’m like this"

(What the hell was in his cup? Whatever he was drinking must be a motherfucking success potion, That's why I tell people,  "fuck you", and whatever was in my cup, suck my dick, I'm gonna keep drinking it, bitch)

Aah~, Something's in the air like vanilla I got on my facebook And that time I had the courage to call her and tell her that I loved her I guess that screaming at my audience works and everyone likes it I dreamed of cutting my achilles heel: Wanting people to like me

(…understand that - don't judge me, trying to say, "He should have put the cup down" - Why? What did he do wrong? Name it He was on 60 minutes with Katie Couric, was you? No! I make people understand that - don't judge me)

I can't go to sleep cause my mind keeps ringing with times that I laid out everything wrong with me up on stage It's embarrassing "Fuck you, you don't deserve me", the bus went totally silent "Help me" is what I meant to say as I gnashed my teeth right in front of you

(Yeah, I’ve kinda put the cup down for a minute, but um… Ain't nothing in the cup right now but some wine I drink dolce That's the only thing in the cup right now But, honestly…)

I asked you "If I never changed would you love me?", expecting the negative Clever, turning the question around to me it was obvious I hate this version of me that was safe and sanitized thoroughly You think you'll let people down and divine some perfect apology The answer was obvious (x4)

(What's in the cup - is it really none of my goddamn business?)

[billkaulitzwife]

More Stupid Shit My Friends and I Have Said Feat. The Outsiders

Ponyboy

"Are you seriously on fucking Tomodachi life rn."

"What's your tit size? I MEANT KITTEN BITE. I MEANT WHAT DOES YOUR KITTEN BITE."

"If I had a nickel for every time I got confused I'd be a fucking millionaire."

Sodapop

"I'm mad at you now. I was watching a Livestream of a bird eating and I had to click on your notification."

"I don't own the cat. The cat owns me"

"I love fruit. Why? My boyfriends a fucking fruitbowl, c'mon now."

Darry

"Shit I burnt the grilled cheese." *Goes outside and throws it at a squirrel* "Eat it or I'll kill you."

"What the fuck do you mean Johnny's getting married to Elvis??"

"I've never had a soda so when my mom brings soda home we all worry."

"You caused a Chain reaction. You got suspended last week then Pony tells me 10 girls got suspended today."

Addie

"I tried to quit smoking. Yeah didn't last long."

"What animal are Teletubbies?"

"They call me grilled cheese cuz I make a mean one."

Dallas

"They call you queen bee cuz u been fuckin all of 'em."

"Next time I see Cherry Valance I'm throwing a box of cherries at her. Bitch."

"What animal is Mickey Mouse?"

Johnny

"How the fuck do people on Discord have my Snapchat, too."

"If I had a nickel for everytime I worried you guys I'd be in California."

"Guys I'm almost 17 :)"

Two-Bit

"Nuh-uh."

"I guess you could say that I am... a little silly in the morning."

*Talking to Steve while high* "Did you see how high Addie was this morning at school?"

"If I had a Nickel."

Steve

"I had a grilled cheese for breakfast."

"I'm not gay but my boyfriend is."

"If I had a Nickel for everytime I had something on my face I'd be on a yacht right now instead of staring at y'all's ugly bitch asses."

-_-_-_-_-_-

Addie: I know how to shoot a shotgun.

Darry: HOW?

Steve and Dallas, in the corner: 😳

-_-_-_-_-_-

Steve: That grilled cheese was good. Thanks Ads.

Addie: I made one and you live a mile away.

-_-_-_-_-_-

*Dallas and his mom in an argument*

His Gramma: *Sends a weird Facebook meme.*

Dallas: 🤓

-_-_-_-_-_-

Dallas: I remember when I used to sit on Santa's lap.

Johnny: Just like when some adult man made me sit on his!

Everyone else: 😥

-_-_-_-_-_-

Steve: Hey, hun did you check on the kids?

Sodapop: Hey, twins, Johnny, dinner's almost ready.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Darry: Top four animals

Addie: Kittens, frogs, turtles... Beluga.

Two-Bit: Birds-

Addie: BIRDSSSSSS OH MY GOD HOWD I FORGE-

-_-_-_-_-_-

Steve: I want a toasted cheese sandwich.

Pony: A fucking grilled cheese?

-_-_-_-_-_-

*Curtises hanging with their cousins*

The ginger cousin: I need to know what animal I would be and why.

Sodapop: LEPRECHAUN

Pony: A whale.

Cousin: HEY

-_-_-_-_-_-

Darry Curtis (active 4 hours ago): Phones on the tabke when you get home.

Ponyboy McLovin Curtis (Active Now): WHAT DID I DO

addie curtis (Active Now): are you serious.

Coca-Cola (Active Now): what happened

Darry Curtis (Active Now): None of you. Dallas and Steve.

Daddy dallas winston(Active.): is it cuz I took addie out to dinner or because we went to the shooting range after

Stevie (Active): I wasnt thwre i promise

Darry Curtis: what is this then *sends a picture of addie and dallas holding guns like bonnie and clyde while Steve is in the middle smiling huge*

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

guys i made a grilled cheese for the first time so These are mostly shit ive said. also ive found tumblr to actually be a safe space so idk.

[persy-r-bozo]

My Moms Adventures with Dhmis-

i Was talking to a friend today and i suddenly remembered that a few years ago i made my mom watch Dhmis (Web) with me. before i was even half confident to even make a tumblr account.

And then i realized that Dhmis tumblr would maybe get a giggle from this.

i was wondering if i should tell this. then i remebered my mom shares silly story's about me on her facebook. so this is revenge of the silly stories now. so here we go.

-From what i remember-

CREATIVITY: is when I realized that she was probably the Key demographic Becky and joe were going for tbh. She went from "This is weird.." to "This is weird in a fun way!" to " D: " Real quick. it was like those fake reaction channels from 2014 but in real life. it was crazy.

TIME: She got suspicious of tony real fast. She Also gave Roy a face that i could only describe as a face you'd give someone before crossing the road to avoid them. also!- She isn't a big fan of the trio. she found them creepy, she feels bad for them! but she also wouldn't get within 30 feet of them either.

LOVE: Guys lemme tell you. SHE IS SHRIGOLDS #1 HATER She hated him the moment he flew on screen. She was cussing him out and giving him the stink eye every time he spoke. She still talks about how much she hates "The creepy ass butterfly" to this day

COMPUTERS: She was jamming on the computer song fr. cant blame her it is in fact a banger. like she was worryingly looking at the screen while also bopping her head along. and when reds head exploded she froze and said "DID HE JUST FUCKING DIE!!!?" in the same vain as marks "WAS THAT THE BITE OF 87!!!?"

HEALTHY: She was confused and quiet most of the time here till THE SCENE. where she openly gasped and went "whhhAAAAAATT THE FUCK!!??????????" Jaw AGAPE, Eyebrows FURROWED. and then the end scene, She put her hand over her mouth and watched red walk away from the phone as the credits rolled and- "HE ATE HIS FRIEND??? WHY?" "They forced him too" "HUH? WHAT? THEY FORCED HIM TOO EAT HIS FRIEND? HIS FRIEND IS EATEN! ATE! GONE!" if DHMIS is mentioned in any conversation her first words will always be "THEY MADE HIM EAT HIS FRIEND!!!" Even is she hears it across the room. she will yell it.

it happened a few days ago actually! in the car.

"They made him eat his friend!!"

DREAMS: She was still in shock over duck getting canned. she was the most confused by the surrealism of dreams. Common questions from this episode "So is the bird dead dead? or dead like the clock made them dead?" "Is the mop in the real world? or a mop man world?" and "Why is he (Yellow guy) So upset?"

My answers: "I don't know. its kinda up to the viewer" "I don't know. its kinda up to the viewer" "safe to assume he's having a rough day."

Anyways, when red started pushing buttons and all the old teachers popped up it was "No! there all awful!" then shrigold popped up for a sec and. as said before - she's shrigolds #1 hater- so it was "NO! GET THAT BITCH OUT OF HERE!!" And she was quiet, making concerned faces at Roy. Confused face at the end. and shocked silence as the credits rolled.

Her final thoughts: "It was interesting to say the least, not my full cup of tea but i can understand why you like it, its very artsy and weird and speaks to you in that way. . Its like visual artists version of going to a underground concerts mosh pit, Crazy yet exhilarating. you never know what's going to happen next!

Tv Show?: she wants to see it but at the same time doesn't, Its an odd limbo. and she doesn't have a VPN. so she's going to hold off till further notice.

Funny names for characters she has.-

(Yellow)" Yellow Boy" "Noodle Boy"

(Roy)"The ugly squiggly one" "His dad" "Methhead puppet"

(Red) "Mop Man" - i still call him this too this day lol.

(Duck) "Bird boy" "Bird Dude" "Borb" "The friend who got Eaten"

(Shirgold) "Bitch Butterfly" "Creepy ass butterfly" "Cult Butterfly".

Every other object has been deemed "The Fucking _____" Example "The Fucking Steak."

Except for Larry the lamp.. i was given a Larry lamp from Esty on a birthday once, and he has helped us though multiple blackouts sense. so Larry's cool but He's on thin ice