#scared of how i'll fucking react to wonderful

[anecdotal-acorn]

don't fucking look at me, i'm thirsting for Jeff Goldblum Wizard so hard i have no clue what to do with myself

[sayangrafayel]

Friend I am in need and am going to make a request. I need to get a cavity filled tomorrow so if you ever have time could you write the LaDS men reaction to a reader with needle/dental phobia (mostly needle I guess). Anything like which of them would hold your hand through it and which ones would make fun (if any cause i can'timagine they would which is why i could use the support haha). Currently freaking the fuck out 🙃

Sorry if you're not taking asks rn! And no worries if you don't want to do it 💙

Ask and you shall receive! Reader is afraid of needles (and you can see it as a dental work too even though I use arm)!

How would they react if you have a needle phobia?

Who's gonna hold your hand or maybe try to distract you? Or maybe joke around with you just so you wouldn't think about the process?

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus

This man hates seeing you in any kind of pain.

Oh you think he would distract you alone? Wrong. He's bringing in your twins and Mephie to help him. He knows how much you love them.

This scene from Brooklyn 99 where Captain Holt and Terry dance to distract Amy? That's them. He would personally sing the song too. You'd be so confused seeing him like that, you wouldn't even notice the needle.

Xavier

He will hold your hand without any questions.

He wonders though, you are such a badass hunter but why is it you're afraid of needles.. but he understands how phobia works, so he doesn't mind at all.

Distracts you by putting on a little light show for you, making you your favorite kind of animal with his evol and makes it jump around his head and your other arm so you'd focus on that.

Rafayel

At first, he thought you were joking when you told him you're scared of the doctor appointment because of needles.

He'll realize you were in fact not joking when you were holding his hand so tightly his fingers felt numb. "Ouchie! My hand! Okay oka-"

He'd bring one of your favorite plushies that you caught together. To distract you, he'd say "Hey, remember how hard it was for us to get this little guy? We should go again after this, the other version of this plush is out today!"

Zayne

As a doctor, he knows how serious it is for you. No matter how many times you went through this process, he will always take your phobia seriously.

"Let me do it, Nurse." and then you'd ease up because he'd done it many times without barely any pain. You trust him so much, you just stare at his features and adore how seriously he's taking this.

If he can't do it himself, he'll distract you by making little snowballs seals with his evol. Or making the flower you love, again, with his evol. The coldness of his evol would distract you from the pain in your other arm.

Caleb

This big puppy. You'd think HE'S the one with a needle phobia.

He wished he could take your place instead because he'd love to take any kind of pain if it means you don't have to feel any.

"You can do this, love!" Of course he would hold your hand close to his face and stare at you with his puppy eyes. "After this, I'll cook one of your favorites! Or we can go out and get ice cream, yeah? It will be over soon, I promise." And what else can you do other than trusting your beloved?

[mattslolita]

꒰ dealer!chris sturniolo ꒱ ⟡ headcanons ( 2 ) !

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

꒰ SFW! ꒱

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ offer to take bambi home on the first night they ever met — you're skeptical though, because you still live with your parents, and chris wasn't exactly well . . . the type you bring home to mom and dad.

"aw c'mon, can't drop ya off at home? why's that?"

"um...i'm not sure how my parents are gonna react cause y'know...just park down the street!"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ sneak through your window all the time, mostly at night after he's gone a deal and wants to just chill with you.

"chris! can you at least text me to let me know you're coming?!"

"s'cute seein' you all scared when i come up, though."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ call you bambi alot when you first start talking, because he enjoys seeing how easily flustered you get from the nickname. he loves the way you clench your thighs and look away with a shy smile.

"hey bambi, don't get all shy on me, sweetheart."

"sorry..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ get scared and confused when bambi randomly begins to cry or tear up — he's not used to you showing so much emotion all the time, so he's actively always wondering if he's done something wrong and figuring out a way to calm you down.

"fuck, why are you cryin'? did i say somethin' wrong? did i do somethin'? talk to me, kid."

"it's just the picture of you and matt...you guys looked so cute when you were younger!"

"for fucks sake, bambi..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ immediately make it known that he's not all for putting labels on anything — you're a little intimidated by him and what he does anyone, so you're thankful for it at first.

"i know we're like fuckin' and whatnot but...y'know i'm not ready to uh, call you my girlfriend or anythin' like that..."

"no i understand! it's cool..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be very hesitant to take bambi on deals with him — he doesn't want to risk your safety, especially this early into you guys'. . .situationship ( ? )

"please, chris? i swear i can help! i'll get whatever bag you need me to get, while you count the money-"

"kid, you don't even know what half this shit is."

"i wanna go with you, now!"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ buy bambi small gifts to start off, because he's not exactly sure about what kind of things you like yet.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ ask matt small details about bambi so he could get a feel of how to act around you and what things he should start doing for you — matt knew immediately he was already becoming down bad for you.

"so like uh, what kind of shit is bambi into, bro? like, does she fuck with movies and shit, or what?"

"don't you think that's the kind of thing you should be askin' her yourself?"

꒰ NSFW! ꒱

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ never do anything bambi would be uncomfortable with doing — believe it or not, you were a virgin when you met him.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ in the beginning, bambi was only comfortable with doing over the clothes things — he'd let you grind on his thigh until you came,

"s'good baby, all fucked out on my thigh...come on angel, cum for me..."

✦ or he would use your vibrator on you, watching you squirm around in his lap when he turned it up and watched your toes curl at the sensation.

"oh fuck chris, please..."

"doin' so good mama, that feel good, huh?"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ take it easy with bambi once you tell him you want to try oral sex with him now — which leads to the very first time he's ever eaten you out, at a frat party upstairs,

"wan' hear all those pretty noises when i eat it, hear me?"

✦ and the first time you ever gave him head, whilst your parents were asleep and he came to spend the night at your house.

"f-fuck, jus' like that pretty girl, takin' my cock so well..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be gentle with bambi when you decide you want your first time to be with him — he's constantly reassuring you, and he decides to ease you into it with missionary because you deserved something intimate and special.

( it was also the first time chris realized he might be in love with you. )

( lilly's corner 💌 )

dealer!chris & bambi!reader are literally the cutest things ever when they first met, since technically they were still teenagers😕😕. i hope you guys enjoyed these! send in some prompts in my inbox for early dealer!chris & bambi!reader! love you all so much. 💌

@muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @luverboychris @cottoncandyswisherz @chanelles-world

@sturnprime @middlepartmatt @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturniqloo @chaossturns

@fairyrcts @mbbsgf @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d @oliviasturniolo21

@wh4re4chratt @cyberdre4ms @angvlarabella @pvssychicken @lovesturni0l0s

@delilahsturniolo @venusxsturnio @chrissystur @sweetangelgirl7 @wovenribbons

@chrispotatos @chrissystur @jetaimevous

[20-th-centurygirl]

work for it

jude bellingham x reader

a/n: based on this because i can't get over it

summary: jude slides into your dms and what follows is something you could have never imagined

navigation masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

instagram:

judebellingham started following you

surely not? why was the jude bellingham following you??

yourusername added to their story

↳ judebellingham: 😍😍

yourusername: hello 🤨

judebellingham: hey

judebellingham: just wanted to say i think you're gorgeous

yourusername: thank you 🫶

judebellingham: anytime

you couldn't actually believe what you were seeing. jude bellingham calling you gorgeous? what sort of dream were you living in? you tried not to get too excited, you'd heard all about his reputation and he'd probably never give you a second thought. but you were wrong.

2 days later

instagram

judebellingham: hey

judebellingham: how are you doing

yourusername: i'm doing great

yourusername: how are you doing? i saw your last few madrid games and you played great

judebellingham: thanks. i'm good

judebellingham: maybe you should come to a game one day 😉

the next 6 months that followed were a dream. you'd exchanged phone numbers with jude a month after your first conversation and you'd spoken every day since. you'd congratulated him after every win and comforted him after every loss. facetiming eachother became your nightly routine and you couldn't believe how lucky you were.

but you tried to take it all with a grain of salt. jude had a reputation of being a player, something you already knew and had been reminded of by your friends. you were more than a fuck and you wanted jude to know that.

jude: hey love

jude: i've got a big game and i was wondering if you want to come and then stay over with me for a few days? i really wanna see you again

you: i'll try to come but i don't know if i'll be able to get the time off

jude: just let me know so i can get enough tickets x

you didn't really know how to react. you loved meeting jude for the first time, but the idea of going over to stay with him scared you. you'd started to really like jude, and worried that he only wanted to get you to come over to him so sleep with you.

you knew all about his reputation, and you didn't think you knew him well enough so you slowly distanced yourself from jude.

jude: can you come? we haven't spoke in a few days and i need to know

you: i can't come sorry. the next weeks just super busy for me :(

the following week consisted of you and jude barely speaking. you felt bad about it, you didn't mean to upset him but you didn't want to get your hopes up. you'd heard about footballers and the way they had casual hookups then ignored girls. you didn't want that. you were worth more than that and you didn't want to get hurt by jude because he didn't have the same intentions as you.

but jude was on the exact same page as you. he didn't understand why you'd just basically disappeared, had he done something wrong? did he make you feel like he was rushing you? he'd tried to call you, but you didn't answer, instead texting him a simple "sorry i've been busy lately" and leaving him alone.

at first jude tried to appreciate that you were just abit busy. he knew you cared alot about your studies and work and were independent, but he couldn't help feeling a bit hurt. nothing in your routine had actually changed, and jude had started to get the impression you were ignoring him on purpose.

you wouldn't answer his calls and barely texted him, so he decided to come to you. he messaged one of your closest friends that he'd met before and asked her to help him suprise you.

the pounding on your door abruptly woke you up, and you swung it open with a scowl on your face until you saw who was behind it. your eyes locked with judes, and you couldn't actually believe he was infront of you holding the biggest bunch or roses you'd ever seen.

jude's heart melted at the sight of you. your hair messy, a duvet wrapped about you and a tired grin on your face. "jude?"

"hi" his voice was shakey but he smiled widely regardless.

"what're you doing here? come in you're gonna get ill"

he stepped in, shutting the door behind him but he didn't dare move any further. "i'm sorry. if you want me to leave i will but i just wanted to see that you were ok. we've suddenly just stopped speaking and i was worried that i pressured you. i'm sorry if i made you think i was pushing you to get too serious to fast. i just really like you"

"seriously?"

"yes"

"jude i'm so sorry. i didn't wanna upset you i just got scared. i know all about footballers reputations and yours and i just didn't wanna be another girl that you just sleep with then ignore" you felt mean saying it. super mean.

"what? look i've done that before but you're so so different. everything about you is so perfect. your laugh, your eyes, how kind you are, the way you always see the best in people. i've known you for six months but i feel like i've known you all my life. you're literally perfect. i'm sorry if i made you feel like i didn't see you that way. i will do whatever it takes to prove to you how much you mean to me" he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and you leaned into them, the warmth of his palms and his words making love wash over you.

"i really really like you jude" you mumbled, and he grinned wide "good cause i really really like you too"

"y'know, if you can still get me tickets i'll come to your matches"

"don't feel like you have to baby"

"i do. i want us to spend more time together jude"

he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. "d'ya wanna go and get breakfast tomorrow? it can be our first proper date" he lightly pinched your side, melting when he felt a smile form on your face. "i'd like that"

[fizzie-frog]

You know, the Stolitz scene was a trainwreck as a whole (they usually are), but what honestly got me most was the way Blitz started pleading when he thought his livelihood was going to be taken away.

THIS IS NOT A STOLAS SLANDER POST. I'm coming from a place where I've seen Blitz being mostly, if not entirely blamed for their lack of communication most of the time.

Moving on...

People keep going like "Well if imps are so low in the hierarchy..." - Let's take a break to think. Blitz isn't rich, he's just getting by really. And how is he getting by?

By prostituting himself. To the upper class.

That's what it is, he's a certified whxre. Things may have evolved in the meantime, but that's how it started. Blitz got asked for the deal while being chased by a crazy lady and him, wanting to keep his business and livelihood, said yes, obviously.

Now Stolas was suddenly taking the book back with no apparent explanation (until they got to the crystal), so of course Blitz thought he was doomed. On a side note, why couldn't Stolas say "You won't need the book, I have an alternative" instead of the ominous "I'll need the book back, permanently. I have made up my mind." I would be scared out of my mind.

He teared up immediately and started pleading, you could already see what was going through his head. He won't have the means to support his business anymore, to pay his employees, to afford a home, he'll be homeless and have no means to take care of Loona. Everyone will leave him again and he will starve on the streets all alone.

He'd do anything to be able to live a life a bit better than miserable, of course he would.

And this brings me to Stolas's treatment of Blitz. I see that everything tends to fall on Blitz, and I'm not saying he has no fault (in fact I didn't even like him at the beginning of the series too much), but Stolas treated him like a peasant. Just the episode before Ozzie's he's called him his "impish little plaything" and asked for a reward for the rescue. He put out cigarettes on his horns, he ignored his "stop" most times, he addressed him in this little baby voice with babying diminutives. "Itty bitty" imp.

And I am sure Stolas is socially clueless. He was brought up alone and sheltered, taught to be a prince first and foremost.

Stolas probably saw this as playful banter, as something that is inoffensive, silly. It was only in the Ozzie's episode that he finally saw that actually, his silly play served to make Blitz feel smaller.

And of course in this scenario, Blitz would see this coming out of the nether. He reacted quite badly, but why would this prince be actually in love with him? As he said, he needed to have a minute (or several) to think about everything. They needed to talk this out, and Blitz was about to apologize when Stolas cast him out.

They were both emotionally charged. They fucked up. But I can see Blitz's side. And the power imbalance is so evident, that hierarchy that everyone keeps saying is irrelevant - in a moment's notice, he could have his life swept from underneath him. Just like he thought it happened in that split moment; it worried him so much that he cried and pleaded (and that's not in Blitz's character to do).

And then he was so scared of not being enough too, ugh, his little "I can always do better!". He's so used to everyone just seeing him as a lost cause, better to be discarded. With this amalgamation of things, no wonder he can't believe Stolas would have feelings for him.

So uh, I don't know what the conclusion to this is. Normalize getting imps some actual comfort? So far the only really privileged imp in Helluva Boss is Fizz after getting rid of Mammon. And when I say priviledged, I'm referring to wealth and upper class, not taking into account personal issues such as disability and so forth.

Anyway, this was my two cents on Stolitz. I honestly haven't thought too much on them, I'm riding on the Fizzarolli high. I'm chill over here in my Fizzmodeus bubble, but doesn't mean I have no thoughts on Stolitz.

[ilidaeandquill]

Thinking about the different Gateways in Cult of the Lamb.

Gateways. Plural. Not enough people acknowledge the fact that we enter multiple gateways.

This Gateway is pretty obvious. For simplicity purposes, I’ll call it “The Gateway.” It’s the Gateway where Narinder, Baal, and Amy were imprisoned - but that’s all we know about it.

We know it has multiple points of entry. No clue why, though, or what the significance of these entrances is. It’s also implied that the Lamb goes to the Gateway any time they die, so what makes these entrances so significant during the final fight and Narinder’s imprisonment?

And this. I don’t want to call it “Hell” since our surviving, mortal followers can come with us: I’ll call it “The Hellscape.”

We only come here once, during the final boss fight. Can the Lamb access it again? How? What purpose does this realm serve? And hey back to Narinder dragging mortals into the Hellscape - how could he do that? Can the Lamb do that? Can they do the opposite? Could they, theoretically, try to enter the afterlife and visit other Lambs? What would the consequences of an adventure like that be?

And then this. The Goat’s Gateway. The Goat in general. So little is known about you, and that both infuriates and infatuates me.

The Goat is from another universe. Is this the Gateway from whence you came? Then I’ll call this “The Parallel Gateway,” if only to simplify things for myself.

Why does it look so similar, yet so different, to the other Gateway? In place of chains, there's some sort of tentacle demon (what's with the significance of tentacles anyway in CotL???). Who is that? Why are they here? What's the ichor-like substance all around the statue and in the puddle? Is it ichor? The resurrection curse? Something else entirely? Did I fuck up the lore in my fic?

Why could the Lamb only come here after defeating TOWW and becoming the God of Death? Could Narinder have made it here? Did he? Did any of the Bishops?

And back to the one character we know came from this place: The Goat. I wonder how they reacted to this new world. I wonder if they even knew they traveled between worlds.

(Ah you know what. Fuck it. I need to write a little warm-up today anyway. I've scheduled the next two hours to be writing time so I'll just warm up here.)

Errant as it is, I can't bring myself to hate it. To even think of its evil.

Every other part of this world is evil; if the Parallel Gateway truly stems from such malice, nothing will change. Is it going to scare you with stories of slaughter and sin? That exists beyond the Parallel, beyond the Gateways, beyond anything only belonging to gods.

There is nothing about this vast world that can scare you now. You've seen it all. Instinct turns into habit, turns into mantras, turns into routine. The handle of the axe fits your hands so well. Years ago, their own crown morphed into a sword, and all they did was grin.

Errant as it is, this truth means nothing to you. So, you came from a parallel universe. What difference does it make? You're here now, and the Lamb in front of you, palm outstretched to clasp your own. Eons of mystery dwell under your feet, deep like ichor.

A part of you could care less. You take the outstretched hand and follow it through pristine fields.

The Lamb guides you through their own Gateways. With the hand that is not holding yours, they point to chains, climbing from heaven to heaven. Your own Gateway held beasts instead of bindings. You share this news with the Lamb; they let out a startled bleat.

A crevice waited in its fields, shattered like glass. The Lamb smiles sadly when they look at it. "He was powerful," they start, "my benefactor. So powerful they trapped him here for eons. And, still, it was not enough."

Not enough - you try not to laugh. Infinity was not enough? Errant as it is, you let the Lamb ramble, for they are your greatest ally.

The Lamb stands from the crevice, hellfire warm on their cheeks. "If you want, we can return now."

That word catches your mind. "Return?" For you had a home, once, beyond this realm. You have your own Gateway. Ichor still tugs on your cashmere.

The Lamb takes no note of such ichor. Their home is yours, now. You are theirs, now.

You find your way back to the mortal realm, together.

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

I'm curious to know your thoughts on this. I'm nearly 30 now, but I'm starting to wonder if just being a child/teenager is inherently a distressing or traumatic experience, even for people who had good mental health, didn't have really bad things happen to them, had supportive parents etc. I did have the bad mental health, shit support system, and fucked up things happen but even looking back at the "normal" things and what the "normal" kids experienced, I feel like they weren't exactly good either.

Like, you have no autonomy. If your parents are making decisions about your life or health you don't agree with, there's nothing you can do about it. You're rarely taken seriously about anything. If you say you're hurt or sick, you might get accused of faking to get out of school even if you're actually sick/hurt.

You hit puberty and all of a sudden, a lot of the adults start projecting their negative perceptions of teenagers on to you, even if you've never done anything to break their trust or piss them off. So if you make a mistake that even adults make, people don't give you grace and say it's just human error. They think you're intentionally being a disrespectful and irresponsible teen.

The adults think who you are is just a passing phase and your wants, desires, and interests are stupid and vapid. Even if some things were a phase, that version of you was still real at the time.

If you're a girl/afab, you start getting harassed and cat called as a child, especially if you're wearing a school uniform. I couldn't go outside from the ages of 12-18 without being harassed by multiple grown men. Like literally every time I went outside. Once I started looking like an adult, I didn't experience those things nearly as often.

Adults think they can just say the things they're supposed to say so they don't look like they're negligent (like "be yourself" "you can be whatever you want when you grow up" "I'll support you" "I'll help you") but a lot of them have no intention of actually following up. They get mad at teenagers for being able to see through false promises or calling them out on them.

You have to spend all day in school, then come home and do a mountain of homework and studying. Yeah adults have chores and responsibilities that are hard and time consuming, but generally, unless your job is diabolical, you finish your shift at work and don't need to bring more work home with you.

Sometimes you're moody for no reason because puberty sucks. You're insecure and are upset when you don't look perfect because the other kids in school are also insecure but are coping with it by making fun of everyone else's appearances. You're trying to learn social skills and boundaries, which is just awkward most of the time. You think your parents are annoying and cringe because that's believed to be an evolutionary way of keeping your family from inbreeding. You do all these things that are developmentally appropriate/expected but are shamed for them. Being rude to parents and teachers for no reason obviously isn't okay, but a lot of the time when teenagers are being disrespectful, they're just reacting to someone disrespecting them. They're still learning how to regulate their emotions and communicate, but are expected to handle things like an adult when a lot of adults aren't even that mature/emotionally intelligent.

Adults act like your grades in school define your worth. School is important. Grades obviously do matter, especially if you want to go to college. But, acting like you'll never get a job because there's some permanent record that follows you around for literally the rest of your life that potential employers will look at and decide not to hire you because one time you got detention when you were 14 and failed a random pop quiz in Spanish just isn't true. It's very very very hard to ruin your life literally forever at 14. It's not okay to use scare tactics on kids without the life experience to see through the bullshit just because them getting good grades makes the parents or schools look better.

Adults simultaneously think you're an idiot who doesn't understand the world and can't make good decisions, but also want you to decide what college course you want to go into debt for at like 16/17/18. I know some countries have free education. Mine doesn't. The narrative from my teachers, my parents, and other people's parents was "you're a loser if you don't go to college and if it's not immediately after graduating because the neighbours will judge us/the school will look bad so you need to decide literally right now." Then if you made the wrong choice, because you were a minor pressured into making a huge life decision without enough time, access to information, or life experience to make a fully informed decision, apparently that just proves that you were a stupid teenager after all even though you did the best you could with the knowledge and resources you had a the time.

College isn't for everyone or accessible for everyone. It's okay to not go at all or to go later in life. It's okay to not be able to work. Everyone's life path is different. But it sounds like everyone's school was extremely classist with their messaging that you *have* to college and it better be business or STEM and that only certain jobs are worth respecting. By the way, I didn't go to a fancy private school. My school was so bad it was considered disadvantaged.

Of course, not all adults were like that. There were some adults who treated kids better, but more than enough adults treat kids like shit. It's really concerning. It makes it very easy for predators to groom teenagers because they just need to pretend they understand and respect them. Of course, then the teenagers might get blamed for being groomed, even though they were just looking for the love and validation no one else gave them.

Then people make teenagers afraid to grow up because society acts like life is over after 25. You couldn't pay me to redo 12-24. Being an adult has its challenges but it's so much better.

I don't want kids but I want to remember how people treated me/everyone else back then and make sure I don't treat friends/family members kids like that when they have them.

I don't know enough about child liberation and family abolition to say much about it, but while I do think there are many adults who do respect children, I agree that there are a lot of structures in our current society which normalizes and justifies when adults want to deny children autonomy and treat them badly. In this society kids absolutely don't have the rights they need to protect themselves from abuse and mistreatment by the adults in charge of them, and that's a big problem that leads to a lot of trauma, abuse and suffering

[howellatme-writes]

Kintsugi

Steven Grant x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader

Summary: You get into a fight with Marc Spector. You thought he and Steven were twins. He confesses he has DID, you both fight, and you both mutually break up with each other. You really miss them and see a tea set in a thrift store, prompting you to go back to apologize.

Themes and warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, exs to lovers, fighting about D.I.D., D.I.D based on the show, crying, hints of abuse but not explicitly mentioned, not beta-read, no use of y/n, gender-neutral reader (If I missed any warnings pls, let me know, and I'll add!)

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: Thank you to @silvernight-m for finding broken/fractured mirror/glass pics of the boys! <3

Retail therapy is supposed to make everything better. You wander down the aisles of the thrift store on a Saturday afternoon. You had a couple of sweaters on your arm, but they didn’t fill the void like you initially thought. Maybe some decor? You look through some old framed posters, and wall art, but nothing catches your eye. Maybe there’s a quirky mug that will put a smile on your face. You look through, and most of them are faded sublimated mugs from cities you never heard of. You chuckle and see one with a frog wearing a cowboy hat sitting on top of a prickly cactus. That did not look comfy. You add that to your retail therapy pile, grasping it by the handle as you wander further down the kitchen section.

Something catches your eye and you stop. A broken deep blue teapot mended with gold, with two teacups to match. You set the frog mug down and pick up the teacup, tracing along the crack repaired with gold, examining the other teacup, you feel your eyes water. Kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold, accentuating the breaks that make them more unique and beautiful. You couldn’t believe something so beautiful was sitting on this shelf. You quickly walk around the corner grabbing a basket. You gingerly lay down the sweaters, wrapping up the teapot and cups, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“I’ve been trying to tell you I have Dissociative Identity Disorder! Steven is another personality. We’re learning to co-exist…but it’s difficult.”

“What do you mean!?!? Steven said you were twins!”

“Have you ever seen Steven and me in this apartment together? Have you ever wondered why there is only one bed?” Marc had asked with his arms crossed defensively, he pauses and you don’t say a word, “I’m not playing mind games with you!”

“Yeah, yeah. I think you are. You both led me on. If this is some fucked up joke -”

“You think my life is a joke to you? Do you seriously think this is fun for me? Do you think I want to do this with every person I meet? To live like this? I was ready to sit back and let Steven live his life, but then you walked into mine and gave me a reason-!” He had been pacing with his hands trembling in a way that wasn’t like anything you had seen him do before, ”This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you… But Steven-” You watched him run his hands through his curls, looking like he was at his limit, “He thought you’d be different, thought you’d understand! You know what? Just leave. Get out. GET OUT!”

You had gotten up off the couch as he shouted at you to leave, sick of watching him pace back and forth. You were too upset to understand the complexity, and he was upset that you reacted like everyone else. You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and turned towards the door…

You felt his hand grip your wrist, and you turned to see Marc ruffle his hair. But the voice was Steven’s. His eyes were watering with sadness at having his heart broken in real time. “See…it’s me. Messy curls and all.”

You froze. It truly was Steven. You couldn’t explain how you knew, but the body carried itself differently. “No…” you pleaded, shaking your head. You were angry, but now you’re just scared. How could a body or a person go from seething anger to crying desperation so quickly? “No…What’s wrong with you? This is too much.”

“Don’t go.” Steven asks his hand tightening on your wrist, speaking your name softly, “Please don’t go.”

You looked terrified, shaking your head no, and backing up as he tried to step forward. You had refused to see and understand what was right there in front of you, “I don’t know what this is…but I can’t do this.”

“No, no no, please don’t go.” Steven pleaded, but his grip on your wrist loosened, letting your wrist slip through his hand as you told him it was over, not even bothering to zip up your boots as you tripped over his shoes and hurriedly left his apartment for the last time.

It had been a couple of weeks since Marc and you called it off and you walked out of each other's lives. It was mutual in the moment, so why did you feel like shit? You spent the first weekend in bed nursing your broken heart with Ben & Jerry’s. Then as time went by and you started to miss Steven and Marc. You couldn’t walk into a bookstore without looking at the history section for Egyptology books. You could care less about the Cubs, but you were still keeping track of their season to know how Marc was doing. When the museum had a new space exhibit, you knew that was something all 3 of you could enjoy, but you couldn't go by yourself. It confused you, you still referred to them separately even though they were one person. They were one person, right? 

You sipped tea from the Egyptian mug that had once been Steven's favorite when he visited. The more you discovered about dissociative identity disorder, the worse you felt. You cried when you realized it was due to childhood trauma, not wanting to imagine what might have caused it. All you could picture was a scared little Marc or Steven, and it broke your heart. You learned some basics about different personalities and better understood why they seem to have memory issues. The next day, you tried to send them a lengthy apology text, but it wouldn’t go through. They had blocked your number.

This led you to the thrift shop, where you checked out the sweaters and the tea set. Cradling them in your arms with both hands, you went home and spent the night with the tea set on the table, internally debating whether you should show up at Marc and Steven’s door with your apology teapot. Would they even open the door for you? Steven might, but you can see Marc pretending he’s not home. Your chest is tight and you feel hot as you bury your face in your hands, paralyzed by indecision. That was until you decided if things couldn’t be fixed between the three of you, you could show them remorse, apologize, and wish them the best. Marc and Steven deserved some kindness. It was the least you could do.

You brace yourself for this conversation, taking a deep breath before finally knocking. Your heart pounding, you pick up the bag with the tea set in anticipation, not knowing what to expect on the other side. You hold your breath and look down at the foot of the door, looking for shadows from movement. Instead, there is deafening silence. You knock again, softer this time. “Marc? Steven?” You asked hesitantly.

Unintelligible whispering on the other side of the door prompts you to continue, “I can hear you. Marc? Steven? Open up, please?” You pause and the hushed whispering stops. “I know you probably don't want to see me again. I get it. I wouldn’t want to see me either. Just- Just hear me out? I promise you can slam the door in my face if you don’t like what I have to say. I promise I won’t come back. Look… I’m sorry about our fight. Can I come in and apologize properly?” You nervously step back as you hear the locks being undone. Your anxiety was high, but now you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. The door opens, and you briefly look him up and down before you guess, ”Marc?”

He propped the door open with his foot, and crossed his arms, “Yeah? What do you want? To apologize, or get those Extended Edition Lord of the Rings DVDs back?”

“It’s not about the- Oh, I forgot about those actually.” you pause and try to recall what else you had left before shaking your head, “I want to apologize…to the system.” you finish, the terminology still foreign on your lips even though you rehearsed this apology in the mirror the night before.

You see him uncross his arms and stand up a little straighter, his lips parting as his brow furrows slightly. He quickly steels himself and gestures to the gift with a tilt of his head to study your intentions. “And what about that?”

“It’s a gift if you'll accept it. I found it at the thrift shop, so if you boys hate it, don’t feel bad about re-donating it,” you explain as he eyes the bag hesitantly. Marc steps back to let you walk in.

“Sorry about the mess. I haven’t been picking up after Steven lately,” he mumbles. Slipping your shoes off, you realize the apartment has been neglected. Dirty dishes in the sink, take-away containers piled on top of the counter, clothes in random places on the floor. Steven always said he was messy, so you wonder if Steven had been the only one fronting for a while. The thought made you sad as you followed him through the small kitchen area to the living room. Marc led you to the couch, and you both sat down on opposite ends. “How have you been?” you asked timidly, putting the gift bag between you on the middle cushion. 

Marc is tense as he leans forward, scoffs, shakes his head, and gestures to the mess around you both. “I haven’t. This is all Steven.”

“You're just letting Steven have all of the time? You’re not…present?” you ask worriedly

“Look just do your apology tour and go, okay? I don’t need this, but apparently you do.” Marc said, crossing his arms again and looking at you impatiently.

“Marc, I'm asking because I care. Don’t try to push me away before I-” you cut yourself off before he does. You take a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.” you start, flexing your fingers, your thumb pushing into your palm to ground yourself. “I obviously didn’t know about your condition. I didn’t want things to get complicated between us. What he had was simple in comparison. I didn’t want to listen, and I’m sorry about the hurtful things I said to you. I liked the idea of you and Steven as twins. Of course I wondered why Steven was British and you weren’t, or why there was only one bed in this apartment, I didn’t want to look past the answers you gave me. I wanted to believe the simplicity.” you look up at him, his expression is still cold, but you think he breaks for a moment as you wipe your eyes, “We were happy, right? I enjoyed having Steven around, even if you weren’t here. Things just got more complicated when I realized Steven was flirting with me…Then when you told me about DID- It just got a million times more complicated. I-”

Marc stays silent and you fumble with the drawstring of the giftbag as you remember the fight, “I was pissed, but as the days went by I still missed you. I missed Steven. My feelings for you both confused me, but I missed this system. I wanted to understand.”

“Understand why we’re so fucked up in the head?” Marc asks quietly, the edge to his voice disappearing. 

“I wanted to understand why your mind does what it does.” You reach across to take his hand in yours, “You’re not fucked up.”

“And what bullshit are you going to spew to make yourself feel better, huh?” Marc asks, taking his hand away.

“Just…open the gift, please?” you plead, pushing it a few inches toward him, biting your lip nervously.

He raises an eyebrow as he takes the gift, rolling up his sleeves slightly to take tissue paper out, glancing at you again as he sees objects wrapped in old newspapers. He takes out the first thing and unwraps it. “A lid?” he sets it on his thigh, grabbing the next piece, unwrapping it, and turning it around in his hands, following the gold, “A tea set. You got us a tea set? This is Steven. This isn’t me,” he observed dryly and placed the teapot on the coffee table and unwrapped the next pile of newspaper.

“Do you know what Kintsugi is?” you ask quietly 

“...no,” Marc confessed, holding the unwrapped cup in his hand

“Kintsugi, gold, fixing the cracks in the broken pottery. There’s beauty in mending what’s broken.” You watch him twirl the cup in his hand, looking at the gold seam. “Making the cup prettier and more appreciated. Knowing what the cup had to go through to arrive where it's at.” You take the cup from him, setting it next to the teapot. Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist when you take his hands in yours. “It reminded me of you. It helped me look at D.I.D. in a new light. Marc…your mind is beautiful.”

“...I don’t know if I deserve that.” he gulps, his voice barely a whisper as he looks at the teapot, avoiding your gaze. He looks like he was absorbing the metaphor, and slowly realizing that you did try to take the time to try to understand and do some research. It was more than most people. His walls were finally coming down and he whispered almost as if to himself. “It’s a struggle.”

“Baby…” you whisper tearfully, “I don’t know what happened, or who hurt you.” you look down at his hands, mentally kicking yourself for crying, “but you didn’t deserve it. You were just a little boy, right? No boy deserves what happened to you.” Marc lets out a little exhale and you see his hand tighten around yours. You close your eyes and shake your head, reaffirming, “Your mind is beautiful. Your trauma could have broken you, but your mind did what it could to keep you safe. Steven is your gold, and he's a part of you that I'll be forever thankful for. You're still here because of him. You’re a team.”

He’s silent and you look up at him expecting him to kick you out, but you can tell the analogy caught him off guard. The idea that Steven was the gold fixing his cracks, that together they both made something beautiful hit him hard. Marc’s voice cracks with raw emotion, “Kintsugi…I never thought of it that way…I-” Marc trails off, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and hesitantly wipe away a tear from his cheek as his eyes search yours. The both of you had moved closer to each other without even realizing it, “For everything. I had no idea. I never came across this in real life. I want to understand Dissociative Identity Disorder. I want to understand YOU. I want to understand Steven. This system.”

He whispers your name, “I’m not good at this…I don’t know how to…” His hand covers yours, you can see how much this means to him.

“You’re beautiful…and so strong. I'm sorry,” you repeat softly and set the gift bag with the rest of the set on the coffee table.

To your surprise, he allows himself to be held, burying his head into your neck, his nose rubbing against you. Marc inhales deeply, remembering the sweet scent synonymous with you. His fingers clutch the fabric of your sweatshirt as he trembled. After a long silence you hear him mumble, his voice tinged with a pain you haven’t heard before as he murmurs against your skin, “It was our mom…after our brother died.” Marc didn’t say much more, but you continue to hold him. You tighten your embrace after his admission, trying to wordlessly convey your comfort with touch, rubbing his arm and occasionally running your fingers through his curls, desperately hoping this fragile relationship could be mended.

After a while, you hear Steven say, “You were his gold, too, you know.” He pulls back from you as you gasp. Marc's eyes are red from his silent crying, but Steven looks calm, sad, and composed. “Sorry, Steven again. Hi.” He waved awkwardly, as if he needed to reintroduce himself.

You quickly sniffed and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “You startled me, is all.” You shook your head, struggling to recover from Marc’s confession. “...but I'm not his gold. We broke each other’s hearts…Why did Marc go? Is Marc alright?”

“He’s a little overwhelmed right now, but he'll come around,” Steven admitted. Smiling, he looks over at the tea set and grabs a cup to examine, “Curious finding this in a thrift shop, but Gold, huh? Steven Grant, precious Gold keeping it all together? That's not just me, luv. We've both got a lot of cracks, but when you were here…” Steven paused musing, “The cracks didn't seem like they'd break us.”

“I just want you both to be okay.”

“We're trying. It's hard sometimes.” Steven set the cup down and hesitantly played with the delicate chain of the necklace you forgot you were wearing, eventually resting his forehead against yours. His fingers lightly run gingerly over your neck, causing you to shiver, “I think with you around we might just get there. Ya know? Find our balance.”

You could feel his nose brushing yours, his breath fanning over your lips, but you were still so hesitant, “Steven…I don't know how this is supposed to go.”

“I wish I knew. I…I don’t have all the answers,” Steven chuckled, caressing your cheek. In a hushed whisper, glancing down at your lips and meeting your eyes, he confessed, “It's complicated, but I know we both care about you a lot.”

Steven's closeness was intoxicating; he looked like Marc at the moment, but he was distinctly Steven. You couldn’t help but wonder what other ways he was different. With his lips just a breath away from yours, all you could think about is how different it would feel to kiss him, and how badly you craved those lips against yours once again. “Is this something Marc wants too?” You question, not wanting to cross a line Marc might’ve drawn in the sand if he was fronting.

“He does. We both do. We want this. We need you. I need you, luv.” Steven pleaded, “Every day you were the gold that helped keep us together—the constant in our chaotic lives.”

“Oh Steven…That means the world to me.” You murmur your fingers tracing his jawline as you pull back slightly. He misinterpreted you moving back as rejection, but you still held him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can…Marc…is he able to tell me this himself?”

Steven’s posture sags slightly as he says your name, burying his head in your shoulder, “it's not that easy. We can’t control who fronts. Marc hasn’t fronted since you left, ‘cept for just now. Left me here to fend for myself. Come on mate, do us a solid for once.” he grumbles to himself before looking back up at you again.

“The both of you are a team…he can’t leave you like that. Can he hear me?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly at Steven’s admission that Marc hid himself away this whole time.

“Yeah, I’m sure he can hear you, love.” Steven sighed, feeling defeated with Marc’s lack of a response, until you gave in and pressed your lips to his. It was a gentle kiss meant for him as much as it was a kiss for Marc to try and draw him back.

“Marc…I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you can.” You start resting your head against Steven’s as his nose nuzzled yours. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just wanted to show you that I see Steven and you. Marc, please don’t feel like you need to hide from me.” Your fingers run through the messy curls, attempting to soothe Steven and coax Marc into fronting again, “I miss you. We don’t have all the answers, but we can take it day by day, right?” You search Steven’s face for any signal or change, but it was just the same puppy eyes looking back at you, “Anything?”

Steven sighs, shaking his head. He looks around the apartment for some sign in its Marc in a reflection, but all he sees is himself, “Nothing.”

The two of you sit on his couch cuddled up together, if Marc wanted nothing to do with you after tonight, you at least had this night with Steven. It was looking like he wasn’t coming back. You both had tried to relax and watch a documentary. Your head laid on his shoulder and he kept turning to kiss the top of your head, Steven had his arm wrapped around you as you curled into him, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb occasionally rubbing the small patch of exposed skin between your jeans and sweatshirt. You look up at him with a sad smile and heavy heart as the credits roll for the documentary, “Steven…this was nice…but…”

“It was…but…?” Steven worriedly echoed back to you. “But what?”

“I don’t think I can be with one alter, and be the ex of another.” You confess sitting up as he reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table, “It would be too complicated, wouldn't it? Especially if he doesn’t want to see me again. I can’t do that to Marc.”

Steven gulped and nodded, looking at his reflection in the TV in desperation, then turned to you. He took your hands in his, afraid you were leaving him again. “Can you maybe just wait a little longer?”

You glance at the TV and only see your reflections as the credits roll over the black screen, you look at Steven and the tv again a little confused, “Steven, I-I must have really screwed up. I don’t think I can come back from that fight. He still hasn't forgiven me.”

“Just one more episode, love?” He tried to bargain, eager for you to stay, even if the both of you are in this weird cuddly limbo. “It’s late, but it’s not midnight yet. You can stay over. I’ll sleep on the couch. Maybe he’ll come ‘round in the morning.”

“I don’t know, Steven. I want to stay, but the longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave,” you say quietly, resigning that maybe this is the last time you see both of them, “Maybe he’ll unblock my number and text me if and when he’s ready…”

You feel him reach up to caress your face, holding the back of your head to gently prevent you from getting up, “Don’t go,” he whispers, “Don’t give up on us.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and feel like it’s the last time you left this apartment, Marc had made his choice and left you and Steven to deal with the aftermath when he retreated into the headspace, “He must’ve already made his decision. Please, Steven, haven’t we already cried enough?”

“Lemme say a proper goodbye this time.” He says softly as his fingertips trace your lips.

You purse your lips and finally nod as he leans in for one last kiss, and it’s passionate, desperate. Steven seems filled with an urgency that sends shivers down your spine. He’s gripping at your sweater, your hips, your thighs like he needs to memorize the feel of you, but never wanting to let you go. He’s trying to hold and feel every inch of you for the first and last time. You gasp as you feel his tongue and you’re gripping his curls, losing yourself in the moment, knowing it’s farewell, but wishing the kiss could last for an eternity. You’re both left breathless, knowing that this moment is both an ending and an unspoken wish for something more. You can’t meet his gaze as you reluctantly rise from the couch, wishing you could stay. 

You feel a heavy ache in your chest when his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back into his lap, just like when you left the apartment last time. Except this time, you’re not scared by the two of them switching who fronts. It’s not Steven begging you for another kiss like you initially thought. “Marc?” you ask in confusion.

“I didn’t block your number just so you could waltz back into my life, hit me with some deep symbolic pottery. You really think I’d let you go after all of that? You’d send me cryptic gifts every other week until I finally get the hint.” Marc laughs dryly. Studying his eyes, you see a maelstrom of hurt, desire, and yearning behind those eyes that weren’t there with Steven moments ago.

“Marc, I-” he kisses you hard as he pulls you in. He groans as your hands slide under his sweater to feel the warm skin of his back, clinging to him like you could keep him fronting if you just held him tight enough. “-I didn’t know what you wanted” He silences you again with his lips as he lays you down on the couch with your legs draped over his lap, hovering over you as he deepened the kiss.

“I want this.” he exhales and murmurs earnestly, his lips still hovering against yours, “I don’t care if I don’t know how to do it right– I just want you. We want a real shot at this– no more hiding behind each other. We can find our way and pick up the pieces. Like Kint-watsit? Suki?”

“Kintsugi.” you smile, interlocking your hand with his, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Kintsugi,” Marc repeats.

[sapphire-weapon]

>RE9 is revealed

>Geoff Keighley gushes on and on about how ambitious the game is and promises true horror and also crazy action

>Playstation Blog talks about survival horror and cinematic action when posting about RE9

>RE9 producer says that the first/third person juggle is specifically due to certain parts being horror and certain parts having more action

>Nakanishi says that RE9 was originally planned to be open-world action but scrapped that idea because the fans made it clear they wanted more horror

>Nakanishi says that the intention was always to make Leon the protagonist

>Nakanishi says that Grace's character was crafted specifically to be afraid of everything in order to make the horror aspects of the game work/make sense, since Leon's character isn't suited for it anymore

>The action side of things has yet to be talked about openly

GEE

I WONDER IF NAKANISHI'S INTENTION TO MAKE LEON THE PROTAGONIST MEANS THAT LEON IS GOING TO BE THE FUCKING PROTAGONIST OF THE GAME.

I WONDER IF MAYBE THEY SHOWED GRACE FIRST BECAUSE NAKANISHI WAS SCARED THAT FANS WOULD REACT NEGATIVELY IF THEY THOUGHT THAT RE9 WAS GOING TO BE PURELY ACTION-BASED, AND HE WANTED TO ASSURE EVERYONE BEYOND A SHADOW OF A DOUBT THAT THE HORROR ELEMENT IS, INDEED, PRESENT AND HAS NOT BEEN NEGLECTED.

IT'S ALMOST LIKE DIVISION 1 ALL STILL HAS COLLECTIVE TRAUMA FROM THE FALLOUT OF RE6 OR SOMETHING.

It's absolutely fucking crazy how Nakanishi basically said outright that the game is about Leon, and the brainlets that comprise RE fandom somehow heard him say that Leon isn't in the game at all.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: this fandom deserves to get baited and trolled. I'm actually really glad that both Takeuchi and Nakanishi are leaning into how gullible and insufferable this fan base is.

Keep trolling them, guys. Keep doing it. Go ask Tetsuya Nomura and Yoshinori Kitase for pointers, if you can. No one is better at -- or takes more delight in -- trolling their fan base than those two.

[bambi-kinos]

From Yulia-k ask. I'm adding a follow up question. I agree with your respond. Why is Paul basically saying that JOHN found Yoko, and JOHN was madly in love with Yoko and he, Paul had to make way for her, and John-Paul couldn't continue as it was. It just sounds like something is missing in his own choice in this, like the India theory, or that Paul rejected John. It more sounds to me in every shape and form that Paul lost John because he found Yoko. "Then came the lawyers" etc. From Paul's pov. Why was Paul finding Linda a bigger problem to Paul? Paul must have known how John was gonna react to that after all his jealousy from the past.

I actually have an earlier meta regarding this that you would find interesting! I'll also insert it into my queue.

To add on to what we said a few years ago, I think Paul gave up on the relationship and couldn't think of a way to save it, while still trying to cling to it. The description of the "I want a divorce" meeting has Paul flinging out options to John about what The Beatles could do next, so stuff like another tour, doing another movie (presumably a proper one and not another documentary.) Paul knew that it was done and over but he couldn't bring himself to make that break. In a way he forced John to end it because he didn't want to do it himself. Hence why Paul made the point a few times that John initiated the divorce first and Paul simply announced it to the media.

I don't think meeting Linda was necessarily a problem per se. It seems more like Paul sees her as a natural consequence of John deciding to go off with Yoko. It's important to remember that Yoko had been stalking John and following him, sending him used tampons, running into his car to sit between him and Cynthia, spamming him with phone calls to the point that John had to change Kenwood's landline number at least once, etc. She was a known problem and had a long history of harassment and stalking. Paul has more insight into her and John and I think he understood to a degree that her persistence was what John found attractive.

John decided to start going off with her in an official way and "accidentally" let Cynthia find him and Yoko eating breakfast together while Yoko wore Cynthia's bathrobe. Then John started divorce proceedings and Cynthia remarked in her book "John" that Paul was the only person in the media machine that had the balls to drive over to her house and comfort her. George, Ringo, Mal, George Martin everyone, was too scared of John to go see her and say "John is being a big piece of shit, I'm sorry." Meanwhile Paul took her a rose, bluntly told her that John was acting completely fucking nuts, and that he wished her well. He even made her a joking offer of marriage though I do wonder what would have happened if Cynthia had taken it. Julian would have grown up with a responsible male figure in his life at least.

So that happened either before or in the aftermath of the New York City trip, I can't remember the timeline properly. But all of that tension was floating in the background when John and Paul went to New York to promote Apple and that's when Paul invited Linda into his limo with him and John and in John's words "next thing I know she's married to him."

So to me it looks like Linda was Paul's solution to a specific problem: John using Yoko as a tool in his ongoing war on Paul and against the lotus eating machine that is The Beatles media conglomerate. John was addicted to heroin, starving himself because his eating disorder had totally distorted his body image, and then he latched on to Yoko because she encouraged his deluded fantasies about being a guru or a messiah hence the pharmacological delusion that was "Two Virgins" and the fantasy about being reborn as a 20th century Adam and Eve.

Paul knew that John was unstable and he simply stopped trusting him. He did not see a viable future with John due to John's drug abuse, years of inconsistent behavior, and then Brian dying the awful way he did. It was all going down the drain and Paul was freaking the hell out, hence he went on a spree of asking his girlfriends if they would marry him. They all said no except for Linda. John's jealousy simply stopped being a factor for Paul. John is jealous? So what? He's been jealous before, it didn't stop him from bullying Paul over LSD, it didn't stop him from running off to Barcelona, it didn't stop him from dating his stalker and bringing her to their recording sessions, it didn't stop him from abandoning his son. And then add on to that the fact that Paul's biological clock was going off: he wanted children of his own and with Brian dead there was no longer a visible path forward for two bisexual men to have a family together. Not in 1968. And Paul wasn't growing a set of ovaries and a uterus anytime soon so he couldn't make his own.

Whatever dreams Paul had of him and John going off on their own as Lennon-McCartney, whatever that looked like, burned to ashes. Paul woke up from their shared dream of a future together and he found a stable woman with a clear head who wasn't impressed by his Beatle status and was adventurous enough to marry a guy she had known for less than a year.

For Paul, who values stability and wanted to make a good home for his future children, the choice was clear. There was no path forward for him and John, not anymore, and John seemed completely uninterested anyway. Paul's insistence that John left him first is extremely important, not just because of the details of the divorce meeting, but because in 1968 Paul was coming to grips with the reality of the situation. That John did not love him anymore and didn't want to be with him anymore and instead wanted to humiliate him and degrade him instead out of some sort of hidden injury that we can only guess at.

As far as Paul was concerned John abandoned him first and didn't try to work it out. John actively cut himself out of their picture. Paul wanted children and didn't want someone with John's stability problems in their lives. He met Linda, took a deep breath, and jumped.

[suiana]

I woke up to THE suina reblogging my art did I just use up all my luck?

I’ve been a fan of for who knows how long I’d absolutely cherish it if you do write something😭🫶

(yandere! one eyed monster x gn! reader) (based on their post)

you've never really noticed him. after all, he was just another student in your class. quiet, kept to himself... he didn't really stand out.

maybe except for the fact that he has only one fucking eye.

and you can't believe he hid it from everyone until you found out about it today. when you caught him staring at you in changing. which is why you confronted him and had him pinned against a wall. who knew that his hair would suddenly fly up and expose the fact that he only has one eye.

"...so you're not human?"

you ask, pinning him to the wall as you eye his flushed face. his eye was slightly watery, cheeks red as his one eye stares right back at you. to be honest, you were a little creeped out at this but hey, it's not like he was stalking you or anything... right? just staring.

"y-yeah... not human..."

he stutters out, gulping as you lean in closer to him. shot, he hadn't expected you to actually catch him staring but... it led to this! all this touching and close contact! was he in heaven?

he wonders how you'll react if he tells you that he stalks you. but he won't say anything, not yet at least. he doesn't want to scare you more than he already has :(

"s-sorry... I'll cover up my eye... you seem scared..."

he mumbles out, trying to cover his eye with his hair. you let him go, backing away before awkwardly observing him again.

"whatever, just don't stare at me again."

you click your tongue, getting chills from the weird monster kid. you then turn away, but not before promising him you won't reveal his secret.

"and don't worry, i won't tell anyone about your... thing. unless you act like a pervert again."

you then leave the classroom, leaving the monster boy alone with his thoughts and racing heart. he places a shaking hand over his chest, eye shaking as he chews on his bottom lip.

"ah... i got caught..."

oh well, at least you didn't seem to mind too much. and you weren't gonna expose him! guess he knows what he's gonna do again.

[dekariosclan]

Hello! I was wondering if you could share your thoughts on this:

So the Party is doing their adventure, as usual, to solve their tadpole problem. Gale has already explained everything to Tav, yet they do not share something for fear of betrayal, especially from Gale. Elminster arrives and gives Gale Mystra's order, however before he leaves he warns him to keep an eye on Tav and to eliminate them the moment they start to be "dangerous" or "suspicious".

The mission goes on, Gale doesn't detonate and the Party reaches Baldur's Gate. Elminster comes again to tell him that he's expected by Mystra in the temple and that she may have found a way to give him forgiveness without the use of the orb.

Long story short: Mystra demands Gale to kill Tav because they too have found something that they shouldn't (not as bad as Gale's one but still enough to piss her off, also in this case Tav is a sorcerer)

Obviously Gale would refuse, even if they were just friends, but do you think that moment would be the drop that breaks the dam to the point that he decides to no longer worship Mystra? Of course Gale loves magic. But to know that the goddess of all magic demands something so important to him after everything she has done? I don't know, if I were him I would probably go "you know what? Fuck you Mystra, I've had enough of your absurdly crazy demands, I won't kill the love of my life/the only person that has helped me get on my feet again. I don't care that you're scared of Tav becoming the next Karsus like you did to me. After I give you the Crown I'll make sure to stay as far away from you as I humanly can and warn everyone of who you really are!"

I don't know.... I think that would be pretty dope of him (especially if he discards his earing after the visit, even more hot in my opinion)

Anon, I feel the need to quote Gale himself:

😂 I have been put on the spot! Not because of your ask about Gale’s response—which I think you and I are of a similar mind on—but because I am rather unfamiliar with the mechanics of DND and the Weave. So I apologize if I mess up or state anything incorrectly regarding the ‘rules’ of magic use!

The thing about Gale is this: He values life and prefers to avoid conflict whenever possible. Yes, he has killed and can kill with magic quite effectively and will do so whenever needed—but he prefers not to. One of the quickest ways to earn his approval early in the game is to avoid unnecessary bloodshed during confrontations. And he gets very angry and upset if, in the Grove, Nettie tries to poison Tav—because if he had been in Tav’s place, it would have resulted in the orb exploding and the devastating loss of many innocent lives.

So let’s start with the friend scenario: I do agree completely that Gale would refuse to kill Tav, and that he would be angry and frankly shocked—moreso than when Mystra demanded his own sacrifice.

Gale’s guilt and shame over his ‘folly’ with the orb, his lack of self-worth, plus his sense of loyalty to Mystra and the Weave, made it so that when he received the order to self-sacrifice he initially responded with sad acceptance, rather than anger. Plus, he knew he would be saving countless lives by doing so.

…but if the order has been that he cause the death of his friend? That he essentially murder his friend? A friend that saved his life? He would 100% outright reject it, and be appalled as well.

I think his anger would be equivalent to how he reacts to Mystra in the Stormshore Tabernacle meeting where he is gunning for the crown: He admonishes her, he raises his voice at her, he is scornful. I don’t think he would have a shred of respect left for her, goddess or no. But I’m not sure if he would give up magic entirely as a result.

From what I’ve seen in the game, if I understand correctly, Gale (or any magic user…?) can be at odds with Mystra and can still achieve magic, as she’s just the ‘conduit’ for the Weave and cannot decide on who does or does not use it. So while he would not ‘worship’ her any longer, he would still allow magic in his life.

But if Tav was his beloved and he was asked to kill them?

I think Gale would be so completely repulsed he might actually give up magic entirely.

This is a man who, in Act 1, explains his relationship to magic as this:

But then, once he knows Tav loves him as much as he loves them, spends the rest of the game

telling them

how much more important

they are to him.

And so I do think, to your point Anon, this could actually be something that would break him and sever his relationship with magic entirely.

Where we differ slightly is that I can’t see Gale going on a verbal rampage and saying “fuck you.” Full disclosure: this definitely veers into my own person hc territory, but I imagine Gale says “fuck you” VERY RARELY, if at all. He does swear a few times in the game, and he absolutely can destroy someone verbally, but I feel that he tends to go the clever/sarcastic route or just straight honest anger without devolving into extremely harsh swearing. Instead, in this instance, I think he would be so repulsed and horrified by Mystra’s request and the thought of betraying Tav that he would actually be at a loss for words.

All I think he would be able to utter in that moment—he, the always talkative, overly-loquacious, extremely chatty wizard—is “Never.”

And I think the absolute revulsion in his eyes would say the rest.

Now, the timing of all this is significant, because it would be in Act 3 and Gale would know that he needs to use his magic abilities to help defeat the Netherbrain. So regarding the earring, if it has no effect on his magic use, I think it would be out of his ear and crushed under his foot immediately.

If, however, it is his ‘magic focus’ (as has been theorized) and he needs it to cast magic, then I think it would stay—even though he would hate it—until the end of the game. And then it would be tossed into the Chionthar along with that goddamn crown, which Gale would deliberately not be returning to Mystra, nor would he be collecting for himself. I believe in this chain of events, Gale would be removing himself completely from all things related to the divine. Because:

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE

[thesharktanksdriver]

Hi, genuinely love you DmL series right now. Sorry for the bland way of texting but seriously, I'm breathing in your work like it's the oxygen. pls hear me out on this.

I wanted to share this headcanon of Honeypie where the mop or broom(whatever that cleans up the office) has a hidden blade and HP can unsheathe it for defend. Imagine NOBODY on the team knows about it until they found out by some random accident and HP is like:"bought it from a store, found it useful and the guy at the store said someone blessed it for minor in convenience."[shrug] or...

POV: your HP working and demons suddenly crash in, broke the door for the 100th time so you decided to unsheathe the broom to wrap up the situation while Dante's having a "HP is in danger notification"on a mission, runs back, finds them unharm ,currently sweeping the floor, meanwhile at the back of the building ,demons bodies lay there, not moving at all and Dante is like:[surprised pikachu face].

the teams reaction to seeing the blade disguise itself as a random object would be on your words of describing(I'm talking about you author).

Another thing I wanna ask is have HP ever crash out? like infront of everyone and I was wondering about how the others would react to that? would they be scared or concern... Technically HP have multiple reasons to have a valid crash out, like pent up emotion, stuff in the past or just demons breaking their spine by destroying the wall constantly. Look if you were Honeypie while working, having a really bad day, you should be AND allow to throw a chair at someone and they can't blame you for it. I'll be at the back clapping my hands.

Anyway, that's all I wanna say after going through a crisis whether I should ask this or not. Again I love your work, it's great to see good fic being serve in a while, your dishes were delicious[kiss chef, sprinkling you with appreciation and love].(P.S BIG sorry on this one....you don't have to reply, I would be fine with it).

Thank you so much!!!! I love hearing people’s opinions and headcanons so no worries!!

Ngl Honeypie having a decent blade in the broom would be genuinely fucking funny, especially if it’s something akin to a Katana or some shit. Like they all rush back to find Honeypie putting the blade back into its sheath to then sweep up the mess and everyone has the expression of “holy shit that’s scary hot” and Vergil is practically Olympic sprinting over to convince Honeypie that “I’m experienced in that sort of blade, I can help” before Dante, Trish, lady and credo are trying to stop him.

But seriously tho that is something I’d 100% see them having as an extra pro caution if anything had happened and they couldn’t get any gun or devil arms. Better safe than sorry especially when dealing with demons who don’t lightly hiss like a cat as Dante and Nero do (Vergil just pouts and mumbles about how it’s an ineffective weapon).

As for you other question, yes Honeypie has crashed out before and can but under very specific conditions.

Due to their aforementioned childhood Honeypie struggles a lot with perfection andbeing useful to others to achieve a sense of worth plus. If they feel like they failed in some degree of being useful to someone and being good at something they would very quickly and quietly spiral. It’s the kind of spiral where their self worth tanks and they go silent for a long time kinda just staring at their hands.

Dante and most others would notice quick, but especially him. He’s been with them through a lot of moments like this when they forgot to fill out a form or couldn’t do a task for him. He very quickly is able to remind them that they did X amount of other things ok and it’s alright to mess up or not be perfect at something. He holds their hand through it and Honeypie makes this a way to ground them.

For as thankful as they are for dante I think Honeypie would really dislikes anyone seeing them in moments like this. Because they aren’t being professional or keeping up their nonchalant facade and letting a bit of their bottled up emotions leak through. They’re appreciative but try not to let others seeing them with such vulnerability to their feelings like that since they’d been taught to discard a lot of those emotions.

However for a more loud/visible crash out I’d definitely say seeing their parents again. It could be a nightmare, seeing them in a crowd or being fully confronted by their parents but they’d very visibly shatter. Like they’d have a full on panic attack and depending on what the situation is they’d be yelling at them to get away. It’s kinda an outpouring of all they felt during their childhood coming out now that they were free Of their controlling behaviour, they can’t go back to that after a taste of freedom.

[lucy---lou]

Part 12 Lucys-hdg-story

"Ice cream, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM!"

I hold my ears shut.

"sssshhhh Ellie I know you're excited but you're stressing Lucy"

"Sooorryyyy", I get hugged,"I really am sorry. I want you to like me"

"It's alright I'm just sensitive"

*gasp*"there, there it is", Ellie is bouncing but keeping her voice quiet.

"thanks"

We arrive at the ice cream parlor. There are just too many to choose from and they all have silly names.

"Hey there, what would you like", the floret behind the counter asks.

"Ehm - I'll have a 'I'massweetasthisicecream' please", I say with a blush. Couldn't they just call it sweet strawberry.

"Sorry I couldn't understand you, could you repeat it?"

A vine is placed next to me and I grab onto it, feeling a little more secure.

"Iee-I would like a I'll have a 'I'm as sweet as this ice cream' please"

I stare at the ground out of embarrassment. We wait for Ellie to choose and we wait and wait.

"She'll have a 'Mistress I don't know what I want' and some iced mineral water for me please"

Ellie pouts at Miss Duralis.

"Sure thing coming up, have a seat!", the floret at the counter chirps.

Ellie and I are picked up and I let out a small eep and are both placed at the table meant for floret and their owners.

"Sorry Ellie, but if we'd have waited any longer I think all the ice cream on the Helichrysum would have melted"

"Owww ok", Ellie pouts.

I let a small giggle out

"What's so funny", Ellie gives me a stare and I now start laughing.

"Do you really think the conquerors of space would let all the ice cream melt"

"Hmm no, but Mistress said so"

"I think she just wanted me to feel better. I was quite scared. Whatever she choose for you will be great"

"Yeah", she beams,"and there it is"

Two plates of way to much ice cream and a jug of mineral water is placed in front of us.

"Enjoy it"

Miss Duralis thanks the floret and she pets him and scruffles his hair. I feel jealous, but push that aside there is ice cream in front of me. I dig in.

"mmmmmmhhhhhhhh", I let out a moan.

I look over at Ellie and can berly contain my self. Her face I completely full of ice cream even in places I wonder how she got it there. I look at miss Duralis with a you seeing this look. She smiles at me and starts cleaning Ellie.

"Told you she gets too excited, that's why we don't have ice cream that often"

"I see that", I smile and happily continue eating.

Suddenly I can hear loud cheering and clapping.

<dirt>

I force my eyes shut, hold my ears with my hands and curl up. I let out a tiny displeasured queak.

I feel vines slowly creep up my body and I let them. They move up to my hands and force themselfs between my hands and head. Suddenly everything goes quiet. I take a deep breath.

"Is this better petal?", I can hear Miss Duralis clearly but nothing else. I nod.

"Would you like to go back to our hab"

I feel my eyes starting to tear up and I do a tiny nod.

"Alright petal, I'll tell Ellie"

We get picked up and I feel Miss Duralis give me a tight hug. I'm scared. The vines still allow me to move, so I turn to Ellie and hug her. I start to cry again. Time seems to fly by. Soon we're back at the hab and all three on the couch again.

"Sorry", I let out along with a long sigh.

"For what kitten?"

"For ruining everything like I always do", if I hadn't cried all the way here. I would definitely had now.

"Oh kitten, it wasn't your fault, you were just overwhelmed"

"But I alw-mpff"

"No back talking kitten, otherwise I'll have to give you something. "

"But my stupid brain" prick "meeeooowww"

"meow mieeoww mreoww", what the fuck!why can't I talk.

"MEEOOWR!"

"Can we always have her like that. She's so cute. I think I'm going to die", Ellie hugs me after finishing her adoration.

I just pout at her.

"meowrr"

"You can have fun with her on Class-Ws later first I need to settle some things", Miss Duralis seems angry?

"Look at me kitten"

Before I can even react she forces me. I try to look away.

"No little kitten, look into my eyes"

I stare at her and fall into her swerling beautiful colourful shining eyes. Everything else starts to fall away. Even if I wanted to I couldn't look away, they're just to beautiful.

"Good kitten, now drop for me"

I feel my self shut down nothing exists anymore just Miss Duralis and that's fine. I can feel her everywhere.

"Good girl"

A shiver goes down my spine.

"Now listen close"

"It's not your fault"

"You are under my care, it's my responsibility to take care of you"

Something changes. Everything feels more intense.

"You are safe"

I am safe

"You don't have to worry"

I don't have to worry

"It is not your fault"

It is not my fault

"Now come back to me kitten"

*snap*

Slowly all my senses come back to me. It feels like I was hit by an asteroid. I look at them with pleading eyes

"Meeow?", great still can't talk.

"Yes kitten, is everything alright"

I boop my head with my paws no my hands and make a hurt noise.

"Does your head hurt?"

"mmeow", I nod. I feel a prick

"That should be better now"

"Mriouw", I nod, but not just my headache is gone everything feels better.

"You can play with her now", Miss Duralis smiles.

"Yayy"

I get hugged with quite the force.

"Whatever she did to you, it's for your best"

"mrew"

Doesn't matter everything feels great and I'm safe.

"So, so ,soooo cute, sorry I have to do this. I can't hold back any longer"

SHE KISSES MY LIPS!

"meemmmeowmwmwmwm", I moan

My cheeks flush as bright pink as physically possible. She pulls away and I look at her pleading and also panting.

"Oh my stars, I needed this"

I paw at her.

"Awww, don't be sad I'll continue"

And I get kissed again and again and again. My whole body is being petted, stroked and kissed. Time seems to stop ticking in heaven. Slowly the kissing grows slower, the petting lighter. We hug each other tightly. Everything grows even slower and heavier. We drift of into blissfull sleep and of course holding each other .

-Wow that was so much fun to write and now I also have butterflies in my stomach. Also I just noticed Ellie reminds me alot of Fluffle Puff

[delopsia]

Ok so I’m assuming Rhett is 30 ish because Lewis is 30 (almost 31 in like a month) but like Rhett with reader who is younger than him by a good number of years (reader being 23 at youngest probably) what’s the relationship like? Was he super reluctant at first because of the gap? How do we meet him? How does the family feel? What if he’s her first “real” boyfriend? How would he react to reader asking him to take their v card?

When I tell you that this has been stuck in my head since you sent me this, oh my GOD. I've been meaning to write this concept with Rhett and Bobby for over a year and keep forgetting to 🤤 I got a little carried away. Hope y'all don't mind 🤍

Canonically, Rhett is twenty-four, but I think we as a collective have chosen to ignore that 💃 here's my proof post on that, if you're curious 💕 TLDR: Rhett was born June 12th, 1996, and OR S1 takes place in November 2020

For the sake of this post, I'll just leave it and say he's noticeably older than the reader ✨ I don't want to set a specific age for him and accidentally exclude someone :(

I like to view an older version of Rhett as someone who's still into the rodeos; he's gotten up there in the bull riding ranks, and though he's a year or two away from aging out of it, he's still up there kicking ass when you first encounter him. It's your first time coming to this rodeo, and you're not sure what to think when you see him leaned up against the fence in that quiet, rugged glory so many cowboys seem to carry. Older than the rest of the riders, so jaded by buckle bunnies that he hardly notices the ones trying to get his attention.

The first time you walk past him, he lifts the corner of his lip and nods his head toward you as if to say hello. Some simple little thing that gets you smiling, hoping to high heaven that your friends don't notice the sudden weakness in your knees. Three Sundays in a row, you go to the rodeo with your friends, and three Sundays in a row, you walk past him on your way to the food trucks. Three Sundays in a row, he smiles and nods his head at you.

You think he's just being nice.

Rhett just thinks you're hot.

But he's too tired of entertaining relationships with folks who only want him for what lurks beneath his championship buckle and to tell all their friends they fucked a real cowboy. It was fun when he was younger, but after a while, like most things, it gets old.

So when he sees you at the bar after a rodeo one night, he doesn't think too much about it. Sneaks a few glances at you out the corner of his eye, sure, quietly wondering how pretty his name would sound coming out of your mouth, but that's it.

Until some hotshot decides that he's going to give you hell while your friends are in the bathroom. And Rhett's within the perfect earshot to get rightfully pissed off. He's not particularly one to get into someone else's business, but he's also not too fond of this whole "badger someone 'till they give what you want" technique the younger boys have been employing recently.

"'s this guy botherin' ya?" He asks, in that gravelly voice, his elbow propping against the bar, speaking to you but his eyes never once leaving the steer wrestler giving you trouble. He's got a history with this kid; this isn't their first confrontation.

Of course, you don't know that when the younger man goes nose-to-nose with Rhett. But oh, if it doesn't make you the slightest bit dizzy when Rhett's jaw hardens at your meek 'yes.'

He only means to scare the guy off and go back to watching his buddy eat shit at the pool table, but your friends are taking forever to come back, and he's found himself offering to sit with you until they do. You're asking his name, and he's ashamed to admit that his heart jumps at the sound of his name on your tongue.

You don't seem to care all that much about the age difference, and Rhett's got no reason to be concerned; your age doesn't end in 'teen,' and you can legally drink, but he's found himself a touch hesitant to flirt with you. Isn't all that fond of breaking his heart over another sweetheart who stumbled into Wabang.

But you just keep running into each other. You're in line with him at a food truck; he sees you at a rodeo bonfire and chats you up until your friends are begging to head home. He's given you his number, and he's catching himself looking for you at the end of his rides.

And then he's busting his left shoulder after a ride, and somehow, he's found himself outside of the ambulance, being backed up against a wall as you kiss him hard on the mouth. It's the first kiss he's had in years, and your hands on his big chest are the sweetest thing he's ever felt. It's everything, and it takes every ounce of his will to draw your hand off of his belt buckle.

"Y' don't wanna do that," his whispered warning drips off his tongue like honey, and oh do you want a taste, "'m 'fraid if I let ya have me, I might follow ya 'round for the rest of my life."

He really doesn't know what to do when you smile and ask, "But what if that's what I want?"

How he survived that, he doesn't know. But a kiss-filled conversation ends in him agreeing to take you on a real, proper date. He takes you to Odessa's diner for lunch, pulls your chair out for you, and never lets you touch a door, and he gets along with you so well. It helps a lot that he's been on a funky little life path that has given him many of the same experiences as you. There's an age gap, sure, but his stage of life isn't too different from your own. Especially because he was a bit of a late bloomer with this whole 'adult' thing. The perks of being emotionally stunted by Royal...

Rhett doesn't differ that much if he's your first boyfriend; he's sickeningly sweet, regardless. No amount of experience or inexperience will stop him from going all out on you; if there's one thing his momma did, it was raise him right. You might as well be royalty. That being said, he's happy to take the lead (or give it up) depending on your experience level.

The relationship isn't all that different from how it would be if he was your age. There are some generational references that take time to understand, and Rhett's age shows the most when you try teaching him to use Instagram, but that's a given. He's a little bit smug when you're with him in public, especially at rodeos. He knows he's struck gold, and he intends to show you off as much as you're comfortable with. Protective, too. Those bull riders know better than to linger and try their luck with you. More times than you can count, you've overheard the whispered warning, "That one's Rhett's."

Rolls his eyes when you (affectionately) call him old man...

To be fair, Rhett does try to wait until a few weeks into your relationship to start getting intimate; he wants to take things slow with you, but then you're cupping him through his jeans, and he's breathless as you massage him through the fabric. And when you sit in his lap, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and grind your ass down into him? He's a goner.

If you're a virgin, then he's extra careful with you. Takes some more time to draw your clothes off, slow as he kisses down your belly until he can run his tongue up your sweet little pussy. But he's obscene about it, regardless. Groaning around your clit, letting you yank on his hair all you need. Frustrates you to no end because you're trying so hard to get him to fuck you, and all he wants to do is eat you out. Four times. Four times, you rile him up, and the most progress you make is getting his jeans off. He doesn't mean to upset you, he's just a whore for giving oral.

Until that one time at the bar when you hauled him into a bathroom stall, dropped to your knees, and wrapped your mouth around him before he could get under your skin.

That got him. You couldn't take all of him, gagging every time his plush tip hit the back of your throat, but his knees were shaking. Moans muffled by the palm of his hand. Trying his best to pull you off when he came and damn near hit the floor when you instead chose to swallow him down.

Again, if you're a virgin, then there isn't a huge difference in how he treats you when he takes your virginity. Not out of impatience or anything of the sort, but it's your first time together. He's going to treat you like a virgin regardless. Overusing the lube as he introduces you to a thick, calloused finger, watching your reaction for the slightest hint of pain. "'s this hurt? No? You sure?"

Annoyingly pushes the tip of his cock against you, then lets it slide through your folds, obsessed with the sight of it. But just as you're going to complain, he finally nudges inside, and it silences you completely.

If there is one thing about Rhett Abbott, it's that he's huge in more ways than one. Splitting you open in all the right ways, big hands stroking up and down your skin, whispering the filthiest things into your ears. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel." "Shhh, we'll make it fit. Jus' relax 'round me." "'s that feel good, sweetheart? Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?"

He ruins you either way. You never pegged yourself to be this insatiable, riding him in his truck, fucking him outside the bar, in bathroom stalls, cheap hotel rooms, bending over the hood of his truck while he had a flat tire. It's not your fault; Rhett's just that damn good, and he's somehow able to match you entirely. Rolls his eyes a little, sure, but he's just doing that to annoy you. "This old man fucks you that good, hm? Cute little pussy ain't satisfied 'till I pump it nice 'n full of my cum?"

Sometimes, he tells you he's too tired for sex and then turns around and pounces on you because he heard you whimper once and had a second burst of energy.

Which...is how your relationship gets found out. He's left a mark on your collar, and at some point, you bend down to pick up a fork you dropped, and it gets noticed. So you either got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner and lost, or you have a little someone.

The worst part is telling everyone how old he is. Rhett's got this funny charm where he looks younger than he actually is, and it nearly makes someone choke at the dinner table. And Rhett's not the best with people, but he's quick to make a good impression. He's like a fine wine; he's gotten better as he's aged.

You'll likely never meet Rhett's family, and if you do, it's a handful of times for no longer than two hours. After Rhett moved out, there's been tension every time he sees his folks. He was supposed to stay and spend his life helping the ranch, to honor his family loyalties, not run off and find love in someone else. Cecelia's sweet, doesn't say anything about the age gap, so long as you're both happy. Royal...you don't know what he said, but you had to grab Rhett by the belt to reign him in.

All that being said, Rhett's a sweetheart to you, regardless of your age gap. There are some differences that wouldn't be there if he was your age, but he's keen to work on those things together. Rhett doesn't fall in love often, but when he does, he falls hard, and he's going to give you the world. Even if you do call him old man every now and then.

Like I said...I got carried away