#she knows more about me than anyone else in the world

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Dummfucks of the Grid

word count: 760

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: After a disappointing P6 finish at the São Paulo Grand Prix, Lando Norris finds comfort in his girlfriend Y/n's fierce support as she playfully criticizes the other drivers and team principals

______________________________________________________________

As the door to Lando’s driver’s room closed, the noise of the paddock celebrations faded into the background. Lando sat on the couch, his head in his hands, feeling the weight of finishing P6 after a race that had promised so much more. The disappointment was palpable, especially with Max winning again.

Y/n moved swiftly to sit beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Hey, Lando, P6 isn’t the end of the world. You gave it your all out there.”

He sighed, his frustration evident. “Yeah, but I wanted to do better. With Max winning again, it feels like I keep falling short.”

“Falling short?” she echoed, shaking her head. “You didn’t just fall short; you navigated a field of absolute clowns out there! Let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? Care to elaborate?”

“Okay, first off, Max. He drives like he’s playing Mario Kart and thinks he can just take everyone out with a blue shell! I mean, does he not understand that sharing the track is part of the job? It’s like he thinks he’s invincible! It’s ridiculous!”

He chuckled, a small smile breaking through. “That’s a good way to put it.”

“And then there’s George Russell, who finished P4 today. Honestly, he acts like he’s the golden child of the grid. ‘Look at me, I’m so talented, watch me throw my weight around!’ It’s like he forgets he has to race, not just pose for the cameras. Every time he gets near you, it’s like he’s trying to play bumper cars!”

“True,” Lando said, laughing harder now. “I can feel the ego swelling every time I see him.”

“And don’t even get me started on Leclerc! He’s out there racing like he’s auditioning for the role of ‘Most Likely to Crash Into a Wall.’ It’s like he has a special talent for making the race more dramatic than it needs to be. How does he always manage to be on the brink of disaster and still finish? Is it a gift or a curse?”

Lando nodded, now thoroughly entertained. “He does have that knack for drama, doesn’t he?”

“Absolutely! And then we have Carlos Sainz. I mean, bless him, but he’s trying so hard to keep up with Leclerc that it’s like watching a puppy chase its tail. Poor guy looks so lost sometimes, you just want to give him a treat and a pat on the head! But he gets a pass because he’s your friend.”

“Right? Carlos is actually a good guy,” Lando said, shaking his head, amused.

“And then there’s the team principals!” Y/n continued, her passion bubbling over. “Christian Horner thinks he runs a royal court every time Max crosses the finish line. ‘Look at my king!’ as if it’s not a team effort. And Toto—he’s not innocent either. He struts around like he’s the head of a fashion show! Honestly, if I had a dime for every time I’ve seen him making dramatic hand gestures in the pits, I could fund a whole new racing team!”

“Okay, that one’s a good point!” Lando laughed, feeling the tension ease with every word.

“Seriously, I would fight every one of them for you if it came down to it. Size doesn’t matter when you’re this passionate!” she declared boldly. “I’d take on Max, George, and anyone else who thinks they can just push you around out there!”

“Y/n, you do realize you’re only 5’6, right?” Lando replied, grinning. “How are you going to take on all of them?”

“I may be small, but I’ve got a big heart and a bigger mouth!” she shot back, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “Just imagine me storming the paddock like, ‘Back off, or I’ll unleash my fury on you!’”

“Please don’t start any fights in the paddock,” he said, his tone light but earnest. “I love your spirit, but I’d rather not deal with the fallout. I need you here, not banned.”

“Why not? It would be entertaining!” she countered, smirking. “I’d tell them all off! ‘Listen up, dummfucks of the grid, stop getting in my boyfriend’s way!’”

Lando laughed, the sound genuine now. “You really are something else. Knowing you’ve got my back means everything.”

“Absolutely! If they try to block you from winning, I won’t hesitate to step in,” she said, snuggling closer.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything too crazy,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “I love your fierceness and protective side, but let’s keep you in the paddock, okay?”

[opencommunion]

this is what you said:

backpedaling isn’t cute.

most of the world doesn't have time to waste. the longer privileged "leftists" idle in their comfort, the more people will die in the meatgrinder of capitalism, starting with the most vulnerable — like Gazans, like Congolese, like indigenous Sudanese, like the victims of climate disasters in places this empire has drained of resources, like street homeless migrants in the good old US of A. begging the democratic party for crumbs might keep you alive for longer, but it will only make others die faster. to save not only individual lives but entire cultures, we need to move against the empire, not with it.

you are not talking about taking concrete action that would materially move us closer to liberation for anyone. you're talking about rewarding genociders with promotions. you are talking about making sure the party that orchestrated the extermination phase of the Palestinian genocide still get seats in congress. that's not good. like, idk what else to say at this point. I don't like to rely on the cliche of "the right side of history," because I think we should keep our eyes on what's happening now, and because as a historian I know my field is not immune to genocide denial/minimization. but I can't imagine that decent people in the future will look kindly on those who voted for a genocider and claimed they did it for the sake of the victims. please zoom out from your myopic pov and see how depraved your attitude looks.

"US presidential candidate Kamala Harris has denied she considers Israel's assault on Gaza as a genocide, after she appeared to back this view during a speech over the weekend, leading to a massive Israeli backlash. Harris's campaign responded to Israeli criticism over her perceived backing for a comment made by a pro-Palestine activist over the weekend about the ongoing genocide in Gaza. 'That is not the view of the Biden administration or the Vice President,' a Harris aide told The Jerusalem Post."

that was literally a gaffe that she had to immediately disavow. you're grasping at straws to comfort yourself about your decision to vote for a genocider.

"how on earth is removing trump not the obvious choice"? that's what the op is about.

it's patently absurd to say that Trump would be worse for Palestinians because he wants to eradicate them, when Harris is eradicating them right now. right now. it does not get worse than what's happening in Gaza today, now, as I write this and as you read it.

please listen to what Gazans have to say about this.

when both candidates are genocidal, we must turn to actions other than voting for and ever-so-gently "pushing" these genocidal politicians. it's not credible to me that most Harris voters would take any substantive action to "hold her accountable" after the election, when you failed to even threaten to withhold your votes, which is the most basic and easy way to pressure an elected official. it's our responsibility as human beings to do whatever it takes to stop this as quickly as possible, and I don't understand wtf you're waiting for

looking back on how liberal political analysts talked about donald trump during his 2016 campaign, I notice two very important insights that have vanished from the conversation this time around.

1: the dire warnings about the rise of fascism were really centered on trump's followers, not the man himself. what concerned scholars of fascism in particular was that the already well-established neonazi presence in the US was openly rallying around a presidential candidate. trump's campaign emboldened neonazis, but the neonazis were already there — this is why we saw an astronomical rise in hate crimes against many marginalized groups during trump's campaign, before he was elected. trump himself was understood as an opportunist riding the wave of rising fascist sentiment — the wave itself was a bigger concern than the surfer. trump was replaceable. liberals now seem to have forgotten that trump's followers won't disappear if harris wins. the heritage foundation (originators of 'project 2025,' blue maga's favorite boogeyman) won't disappear if harris wins. extreme right politicians — many of whom I would argue are even further right than trump, and more embedded in the establishment — won't disappear. even if you mistakenly see the republican party as the sole provenance of usamerican fascism, republicans won't disappear if harris is elected.

2: the people centered in the crosshairs of trump's agenda were migrants and asylum seekers; chiefly those from south of the US border and from majority muslim countries. the intensified demonization of these groups led analysts to draw parallels with fascist parties that were on the rise in europe. hatred of migrants and muslims is indisputably the primary driver of 21st century fascism, from the UK to India. so tell me why the conversation in the US has shifted to revolve around white trans people? yes, trump supporters are obviously transphobic, but you have to trace this particular manifestation of transphobia to its source, which still comes down to white supremacy and anti-migrant sentiment. when you actually look at the way fascists talk about trans people, it all comes back to the idea that hostile foreign elements invading the country have degraded white christian values. trans people of color have already been targeted for a long time, because we're seen as a sort of vanguard of non-white perversion; this isn't new to us. white trans people are now experiencing increased persecution because transness is seen as infiltrating white families/communities and corrupting their whiteness. I'm not saying we shouldn't talk about the rise of transphobic policies; of course we should. what disturbs me is that anti-migrant sentiment has been shunted to the sidelines of discussions of 'trumpism,' when it is still very much the center of his platform. and that's the part of his platform that the harris campaign has adopted to try and pull voters from him! that's the part of the republican platform that the biden administration advanced with the excuse of 'reaching across the aisle.' and what more extreme manifestation of an anti-migrant anti-muslim platform is there than committing genocide in gaza and then refusing to let gazan asylum seekers (or even gazans with US citizenship!) into the US?

the entire US government, red and blue, is unified around the anti-migrant, white supremacist crux of so-called 'trumpism.' large swathes of the american public, whether they vote red or blue, are enthusiastic about genocidal foreign and domestic policies. none of this stops when trump is gone

[brainddeadd]

The first time Quinn sees her, it feels like everything else blurs away. The party fades into the background noise of laughter and clinking glasses, voices softened under the warm, low lights. She’s standing just across the room, her laughter like a spark, her smile magnetic, and Quinn’s rooted in place, unable to take his eyes off her.

She’s gorgeous, sure, but it’s more than that. There’s a lightness to her, like she carries something special he didn’t realize he’d been looking for until this moment.

And then she catches him staring. Her smile shifts, a curious gleam lighting up her eyes, and she tilts her head, an invitation he’s powerless to resist. He crosses the room, weaving through the crowd, feeling a strange calm settle over him. It’s like he knows her already, like he’s spent a lifetime preparing for this exact moment.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, almost reverent.

She grins up at him, and the world goes silent. They talk, the conversation easy and light, and Quinn’s completely gone. Every laugh she gives, every story she shares, pulls him deeper, and he realizes he’s done looking.

Hours slip by unnoticed, and when they step outside to get some fresh air, she leans against the railing, the soft glow of the streetlights casting her in gold. Her eyes are as warm as a sunset over the water, and he swears he’d let her crash over him, again and again, if it meant feeling even an ounce of this peace.

“You know,” he says, barely able to contain the grin spreading across his face, “I think I could do this forever. Just… you and me, talking about everything and nothing.”

She looks at him, her gaze steady, and it’s like she sees right through him. “Good,” she says, voice soft. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this with anyone else.”

Quinn’s heart stutters. He knew it before she even said it—this was it. He’s found her, and he’s not about to let her go.

If this night doesn’t turn into two, he knows he’s going to miss her. Because right here, with her, he’s finally found what he didn’t even know he’d been searching for.

[bxnfire]

Lines Blurred || Satoru Gojo

✎ synopsis: Heartbroken after dating “the boy of your dreams” you’re looking towards living a new life, one with new people and possibly new experiences, except the light hearted fun you hoped for became something stronger than that

✎ warnings/content: smut, fluff, tiiiny bit of angst, fingering, oral (both receiving), p in v, fwb, pet names, college!au

✎ a/n: this is my first ever fic!! english is not my first language, so please excuse any faulty grammar. please lmk if you have any suggestions or comments, they’d help a lot ❤️

✎ part 2 here

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏMINORS DNI ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏ

It had been 3 months since your last relationship ended. You dated one of your closest friends, and tauntingly enough, he was also in your friend group. Having spent your summer heartbroken and trying to move past things, if you were certain of anything it was that you wanted to spend the least amount of time in his presence, something near impossible if you also wanted to be around your friend group, therefore, you decided it was time for a change.

You had been friends with Shoko for a while, but didn’t really know her friends nor hung around her much, and seeing how she got you through your heart ache you decided it’d be a good idea to stick to her.

💬 Shoko ❤️: you comin w us for lunch?

💬 You: sure thing!

You were nervous. Geto seemed so hard to read, you wondered if he’d be annoyed by your presence, and you didn’t know Gojo at all. Would they like you? Would they make you wish you were back with your other friends? Would they welcome you like Shoko did?

All your questions suddenly coming to a stop when you felt someone bump into you.

“My bad! I got caught up playing ball over there, please let me know if I hurt you,” said an energetic but apologetic voice. As you turned to look at the speaker, you noticed you were met with his chest instead, and looking up at him, you realized it was none other than Satoru Gojo.

“No worries! You just caught me off guard, but I’m good,” you said reassuringly.

“Wait! Aren’t you Shoko’s friend? What was it,” he hesitated, then said “Y/l/n, right?”

Surprised he knew about you at all, you unknowingly smiled at his recognition. “Yes, that’s me!”

“I remember her talking about you,” he smiled, “she said you were going through it. Is that true? Are you feeling better now?”

Embarrassment ran through you. As your cheeks turned pinker than usual, you scratched your head and replied “yes, that’s true. Luckily, I’m doing better, but as you’ve probably heard I’ll be hanging with you guys for now. I hope we can get acquainted soon!”

“Sure we will, see ya around Y/l/n!” He said as he ran off back into the field to play once again.

You didn’t know it yet, but in no time Gojo would be your door to a new world.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏ

One month had passed, and Gojo was more than just your friend. It had started innocently enough, sending each other dumb reels, sharing snacks, and even studying together.

You found yourself enjoying your conversations with him more than you enjoyed anyone else’s. He was really easy to talk to, and was always there to lift you up and make you smile whenever you felt down. His easygoing nature making you feel at ease with him, something you realized you were missing more than you originally thought.

It was no secret that he was very attractive, his beautiful blue eyes every girl seemed to fall for surely had similar effects on you. His cocky confidence made him even more likable to you, was there anything this man couldn’t do? His build was also very attractive, not too muscular but still built enough to be easily noticeable whenever he hugged you or took his shirt off, something you found yourself treasuring more and more.

It was all friendly until one night the jokes started to change tone, and after a week of tension, and stolen glances, you finally had enough of his teasing.

💬 Gojo 🍰: y/l/n, do u think u could do this?

💬 Gojo 🍰: *VID*

💬You: oh please, that’s nothing. i’ve fit bigger things than that banana in my mouth before

💬 Gojo 🍰: oh is that so?

💬 You: yes 🤭

💬 Gojo 🍰: what if i don’t believe you?

💬 You: well in that case i’d have to convince you right?

💬 Gojo 🍰: and how would that be?

💬 You: come to my dorm and find out

Gojo was running. Unbeknownst to you, he had been into you for a while, even before you two officially met. He remembers the beginning of your sophomore year in college. You two had ethics together, and he remembers you as the kind girl who helped everyone around you. Anybody could come to you if they didn’t understand something, and indirectly, he’s learned a lot from you. Shit, you were the only reason why he passed that boof ass course. The only reason to keep him coming. In the halls, he’d gotten to see your humor. Playing silly pranks in your friends, hiding phones for fun, having sassy remarks ready whenever the time called for them, and how loudly, although cutely in his eyes, you laughed at your friends’ jokes.

In no time, he found himself easily picking out your voice from others, differentiating your laugh in a sea of noise, and noticing you whenever you were around. But oh, he really disliked your boyfriend. Not hated of course! Never that, he wasn’t a hateful person… Though if he were to be, he’d hate him. Your stupid boyfriend who didn’t do well in class and didn’t care enough to ask for your help, who believed anyone’s opinions about your relationship over yours, and who, in the end, preferred to spend time with anyone else but you.

In retrospective, he didn’t really hate your ex; if anything, he started to like him. After all, after he proved he was too shitty for you, you were smart enough to leave him, meaning Satoru finally had a chance with you. He was more than psyched when Shoko told him you were sticking around for a bit, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she knew Satoru could do you better than your ex did, so she let it slide.

You, on the other hand, were a wreck. Letting your lust get the best of you didn’t let you truly think through what you were about to do. What if this screwed your newfound friendship over? What if he didn’t actually want you? What if…

Your thoughts were interrupted once again by Gojo, but this time it was through a text.

💬 Gojo 🍰: open ur door

Running to your door, you gave yourself a second to shake the nerves off before opening the door. There stood Gojo, so handsome even with his white hair messy from running and his clothes a little rustled, making it obvious he wanted to waste no time getting here. His smile, shy but curious, didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“You’re so goddamn thirsty,” you tell him, finding enough confidence to smile back.

“You don’t even know,” he whispers as he gets closer to you while shutting the door behind him.

Next thing you know, you’re pinned against the wall with his hands all over your body. His kisses are desperate yet gentle, as if he had been waiting for so long he was scared this was just a dream, one he didn’t dare wake up from. Flushing at that thought, you tangled your hands in his hair and pulled him even closer, something that ignited a fire in him.

Until he woke up and stopped. He pulled away for a second, looking into your confused eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Don’t get me wrong, I want to keep going, but I’d rather not make you uncomfortable ‘cause I know you may not be ready yet.”

This makes you smile. Couldn’t he tell how down bad you were for him? You truly found it sweet that he cared, but in that moment all you wanted was to have him down your throat. “I’m as ready as all I’ll ever be, unless you’re scared of course,” you reply, trying to bring back the mood.

“Scared? Baby you have no idea of how long I’ve waited for this, if anything, you should be scared of how desperately I want you,” and with that, he pulls you back in for a more passionate kiss.

Your response gave him the confidence to get bolder. His hands now ran under your shirt, every breath you took making them go a centimeter upper, until he eventually reached the hem of your bra. Shifting from your mouth to your neck, his kisses starting to get slower but more calculated, you started to moan at his touch, and in no time you felt something starting to poke your stomach. This made you even more flustered, and a familiar warmth pooled between your legs.

He picked you up and laid you down on your bed. Kissing your neck slowly, your whimpers get louder and louder as he presses him self against you, giving your soaking cunt well-received pressure.

Wanting to please him, you instinctively changed your positions so that you were on top of him and kissing down his body.

“Take this off,” you commanded.

“Who’s the thirsty one now?” He asked as he took his shirt off.

“Shut up. You came here so I could prove my point yeah?” You asked trying to hold on to you wavering confidence. His bulge was big, bigger than you would’ve thought it to be, but you were ready to take it, you wanted to taste him so bad.

Going over to him and taking his pants off, he stopped your hand from going further. You look up at him confused, wondering if you were doing something wrong.

“I want you to promise me something.” He said, looking deep into your eyes.

“And what would that be?” You asked, trying to guess what he could possibly be asking you.

“If you’re gonna show me your skills, it’s only fair I get to show you mine. Can’t let you one up me,” he said playfully, hoping you’ll let him in a little closer.

“Sounds good to me, but I don’t think you’ll be one upping me in any way,” you say, not wasting any time and going back to what you were doing.

Sliding down his underwear, his arousal sprung out, bigger and thicker than you thought it’d be. Giving it a few experimental strokes, your hand moved along his shaft trying to see what he liked, but to no avail, given that he was very reactive to all your touches, and this only encouraged you. Opting for leaving one hand at his balls and getting closer to him, you lick all over his dick.

Gojo is fucking losing it. He’s gripping the sides of your couch trying not to buck his hips into you. Who would’ve thought that all those late nights hopelessly scrolling through your profile stroking himself silly would eventually lead him to your bed were your mouth would finally replace his hands?

“F-Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he breathed out, lost in the feeling of your tongue deliciously swirling around his tip as you took him deeper in your mouth.

He started bucking his hips into your mouth soon after, gripping your hair and guiding your movements, fucking your face as he noticed how well you were taking it. As he was near the edge, he pulled your head away, once again leaving you confused.

“Why didn’t you let me finish the job?” You asked him almost mad, you wanted to see how he tasted.

“I want to make you cum first, told ya you won’t be one upping me tonight.”

“Oh really? You know I don’t need my mouth to make you cum right?” You say as you sit on his lap and start making out with him and put your hand to work. Since he was close not that long ago, you knew he’d be worked up enough to not take long to cum. Gojo was no longer kissing you as dominantly as before, having to take breaks to breathe and even moan under your touch.

Not even 10 minutes passed until he came all over your hand. Sticky ropes of cum shooting out coating your fingers, his abdomen, and your pants. Moving your hand to your mouth to suck his cum off your fingers, you look at him seductively. He wanted to be a brat and take control, but just watching you do that made him his dick throb once again.

Kissing you, now tasting himself in your mouth, he took your shirt off and tried to take your bra off. Inexperienced, he fumbled many times, which made you both laugh.

“Talk about one upping me and you can’t even take my bra off. What’s next, you won’t be able to find my clit?” You tease, doing the job for him.

“Oh please, let’s see who ends up begging for more by the end of the night,” he challenged, and for the first time, you realized you wouldn’t mind losing at all.

You were about to reply, but you realized he was no longer focused on your little banter. His eyes were glued to your bare chest, scanning every inch of your skin, wanting to remember everything for later, archive it in a special place in his brain.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

“You’re so fucking horny,” you reply, knowing better than to believe lust-filled words.

“I mean it! I’ve thought so even before we met,” he confessed, giving you no time to respond as he took one of your tits into his mouth while he played with the nipple in your other tit by rubbing it between his thumb and index finger.

Moans took over the room. Your smart mouth not shut, but rather occupied making progressively louder sounds in response to Gojo’s touch.

“Oh p-please G-Gojo!” You mewl, melting in his touch.

“Satoru.” He responds

“H-Huh?”

“Call me Satoru. You tried my nut, I think that’s enough to be on first name basis,” he joked, and in any other circumstance you would’ve laughed, but you were too caught up in the pleasure he was giving you.

“S-Satoru I-I need m-more!! Please give me more!!” You struggled to get out, but once you did, Satoru got to work quick pulling down your shorts and kissing down your torso to reach your thighs.

He licked, bit, and kissed around them, wanting to test how impatient you could get. It didn’t take you long to tug on his hair and pull him into you, his nose deliciously coming in contact with your soaked cunt, only the thin, wet fabric of your panties between you. Bringing one hand down to jerk himself while the other pulled your panties down to start kissing your sweet pussy, until he goes up to your clit and starts sucking it lightly, making sure you knew he was well aware of where it was and how to treat it.

His other hand reached up to your entrance and one digit started pumping into you. Your moans got louder and louder, and Satoru was wondering just how much longer he had until you were over the edge. Sticking in another digit and matching its curling pattern to the one inside made you start seeing stars, so lost in your own pleasure you couldn’t even manage to tell him you were about to come undone.

Eager to see you cry for him, all of a sudden he stopped, seeing your cute little flushed face with teary eyes look at him enraged.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, forgetting all your pride and letting him know just how much he worked you up.

“Can’t have you wasting your arousal sweets. If you’re gonna cum, it better be all over my cock.” He said, waiting to see if he had fingered you dumb or if you had a smart remark for him.

“Then don’t fucking waste your time.” You replied, sitting on his dick and riding him to your own pleasure.

“S-Shit! You’re s-so big!” You moan, ecstasy reaching your system once again.

“This dick is all yours babe. Do as you p-please with me,” he replied, having a hard time keeping his composure as he watched your tits bounce in his face and feel you clenching his dick so fucking good.

It didn’t take you long to reach your climax, and seeing that you were unable to keep up with your own pace, Satoru took over and fucked you through your orgasm as he came closer and closer to his own. Pulling out in one quick motion, he came on your belly and kissed you as he did.

You both laid there quietly, trying to process everything that had just happened, not daring to say a word but also make a move away from each other. You were consumed in your thoughts until Satoru snaps you out of it.

“You impressed me sweets, you’re even sweeter than you look, and you take dick like a fuckin’ soldier,” he said as he caressed your face and you laughed with him.

“You’ve fucked a soldier before? Do those uniforms turn you on?” You reply playfully, happy that it’s almost like nothing has changed at all.

“Yes I have, she’s right in front of me, and I’ll need that soldier pussy putting me out of combat often,” he laughed as he said so, returning your energy as he always did.

You lay there naked just basking in each other’s presence, giving the bubble separating you from the rest of the world a little more time before bursting. Satoru ended up spending the night, but since he had a morning class the day after and you didn’t, he bought you breakfast before leaving your dorm.

You woke up to your favorite kind of coffee along with a butter croissant and a note in his unmistakable handwriting.

“Don’t miss me too much!! After lab is over I’m coming right back, so don’t leave juuust yet, I wanna see ya again ❤️

—Satoru”

Giggling, you sipped the drink as you recounted the events from last night, the memories flooding through and clouding your brain, making you genuinely wish he would come back soon.

Even then, after your daze was over, you really sat down to think of it all. Satoru was known for being a ladies’ man, could you just be another one of his conquests? You loved him, but you couldn’t stand to lose yet another friend due to your stupid feelings. Unsuspecting of his feelings for you, you decided to make it clear that you would just stay friends once he came back. Friends that were there for each other, but if the time came, friends that could call each other on those late, restless nights. This would be a sweet deal would it not? Or at least that’s what you told yourself.

Once Satoru came you acted normal. The usual banter between you two never failing to appear, but you could tell something had shifted. High fives or fist bumps were changed to hugs a little too long or kisses a little too intimate. Whenever people couldn’t see you, your usual friendly bickering turned into heated makeout sessions, always testing who gave into the other first.

Even if you placed the boundaries, ones that Satoru adhered to and respected almost religiously, you felt the dangerous beat of your heart whenever his name popped up on your phone or you happened to see him by chance. Once calling each other friends started to hurt, you knew you were screwed.

What you didn’t know though was how hurt he was too. How it pained him to have to hide his love for you all because he was scared you didn’t want to date him after all. He spent an awful lot of time dreaming of what it could be like if you were more than just friends with fucking benefits, if you would let him truly take care of you the way you deserved to be taken care of, if you could only give him a chance to prove that love, when good, is worth it after all. But he knew better than to push your limits, and so, he kept stealing glances, longing for your touch, and clinging to your little fuck sessions in hopes that one day, you’d see he had loved you all along.

[graciehart]

Emily’s Follower Appreciation Event 🌷 ⤷ 💝 I GOT YOU: a f.r.i.e.n.d.s playlist

when colors turn to shades of grey with the weight of the world at the end of the day, oh, what would I do without you?

for @userlaylivia ♡ playlist / songs ↘

Friends is a show about friends who become your family, so this is a playlist of songs for those people; songs I hope would bring comfort, reassurance, and strength.

SATELLITE CALL by Sara Bareilles / "this is so you'll know the sound / of someone who loves you from the ground / tonight you're not alone at all / this is me sending out my satellite call." Starting this playlist with a reminder that no matter where you are, you're not alone—I'm reaching out with my heart, sending out a satellite call to you anywhere you are, reminding you I'm here.

PLEASE STAY by Lucy Dacus / One of my favorite parts of this song is when she sings "call me if you need a friend or never talk to me again, but please stay." It feels like such pure, unselfish love—if you need me I'm here, or if you choose to never talk to me again, that's okay as long as you stay.

CALL YOUR MOM by Noah Kahan & Lizzy McAlpine / "Don't let this darkness fool you / all lights turned off can be turned on / I'll drive, I'll drive all night / I'll call your mom." Whatever you need, I'll do it, as long as you get through this with me.

BE STILL by the Fray / This was sent to me by someone when I was having a really hard time, and I remember crying on my bed, listening to this song as though it could surround me in a hug. To me, it's a hug in song form.

SURROUND YOU by Echosmith / "Wherever you are / whenever you need me / just crawl in my arms / oh, and I'll hold you beside me / I want my love to surround you."

HAS ANYONE EVER WRITTEN ANYTHING FOR YOU by Stevie Nicks / This is another song that was sent to me by someone and I'm so glad; I probably never would've heard it otherwise. The lyrics are so beautiful. My favorites are: "so if not for me then do it for yourself / if not for me then do it for the world." Find a reason to keep going... no matter what it is, it's enough.

YOU MATTER TO ME by Jessie Mueller & Drew Gehling / Even though this song has some romantic undertones, it doesn't necessarily have to be romantic. And it's one of my favorites because the message is so simple and so profound: you matter to me. What you say matters, your very existence matters to me.

FOR GOOD by Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth / Nothing I could say could ever do this song justice, and the lyrics really say it all.

WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU by Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors / The featured lyrics in this gifset are from this song, and it has such a beautifully simple message: what would I do without you?

LET YOUR HEART HOLD FAST by Fort Atlantic / "This too shall pass" in song form.

CALL ME ON YOUR WAY HOME by Emily James / There are so many was to say "I love you," including "text me when you wake up" and "call me on your way home."

SOMEONE WHO LOVES ME by Sara Bareilles / Some of the most beautiful lyrics I've ever heard and what I hope all of my friends feel with someone in their lives, whether it be me or someone else.

I GOT YOU by Leona Lewis / "For better, for worse / I got you."

FEELS LIKE by Gracie Abrams / One of my favorite songs to begin with and all the more so when I found out it was written about her best friend. I love the feeling of wonder it describes—"met you at the right time / this is what it feels like."

I'M ONLY ME WHEN I'M WITH YOU by Taylor Swift / Such a beautiful way of describing friendship and a beautiful type of friendship to experience, one I hope all my friends experience.

WITH YOU by Colorfire / This song always reminds me of friendship because when I graduated middle school, one of the friends in my friend group made a video of us to this song. I like how it says "keep turning, turning;" there's a feeling of time passing in the song, but that friendship and relationship stays constant.

SWEETER THAN FICTION by Taylor Swift / "I'll be one of the many saying look at you now, look at you now / I'll be one of the many saying you made us proud, you made us proud."

RAINBOW by Kacey Musgraves / A final hope for this playlist: hope that you'll make your way to the other side, that you'll be able to see the rainbow that's been there, maybe hidden out of view. A promise that when you can't have hope, I'll have enough hope for the both of us until that hope—that rainbow—is once again visible.

[stellewriites]

very much inspired by a post i’ll link at the bottom to avoid spoilers

i love putting john price in situations

simon had known price for over a decade, had served under him as his lieutenant for a good portion of it, so he was pretty confident in answering yes when asked if he thought he knew the captain well.

he could acknowledge he wasn’t as close as say laswell may have been, but he knew that price’s wife was not common knowledge around the base either.

he’d pieced it together over the years on missions; catching the odd comment shared over coms; the glint of a ring around his neck; the odd teased mention of her when they sat in the rec room after barely scraping through a tough spot, when price needed the company as well as the silence ghost offered before returning to the real world.

it was how simon knew the sergeants were staying when price let slip about her one day. because he doesn’t let anything slip, wouldn’t, especially about her.

“got anyone at home waiting for you, sir?” gaz asked as he sighed impatiently over the coms, hour three of silently waiting and watching had finally gotten to him.

“i do,” price said simply, not offering any further information. ghost could imagine the amusement tugging at his daft facial hair as price refused to continue without prompting and simon smiled under his mask when he heard johnny scoff next to him before chiming in.

“c’mon sir, give us a wee bit more’n that,” he weedled. “when’d ya meet? is she nice?”

john hummed, the sound low and crackly over the radio in their ears. “met when i moved.”

“oh, a real meet-cute type thing, eh?” gaz teased.

john ignored him. “wouldn’t say she’s nice, soap. she’s more than that. ‘nice’ is your aunt’s new wallpaper; you have permission to shoot me point blank if i start calling her nice.”

“what is she then?” ghost piped up. this was the chattiest john had ever been on the subject and he was going to take advantage.

john went silent for long enough that the three men thought that was it, the end to their sharing session and knowing more about their captain outside of work. simon chewed the inside of his cheek.

“she’s devoted,” john whispered finally before his voice firmed. “heads up, team, movement 2 o’clock. anyone got eyes on the target?”

—

it was months later when she was brought up again, the team thinking. nothing of it until price’s phone pinged in his pocket enough times to pique johnny’s interest as they prepped to leave.

“that the wife, sir?” he asked.

john huffed, didn’t bother checking his phone as he turned and shook his head. “she’s clingy, but she doesn’t bother me when i’m at work.”

“how’d you know?” gaz asked. “could be an emergency.”

“‘n’ how’d you get her to agree tae tha’?” soap followed up quickly, having had issues with his own flings petering out when he was distant and slow to reply.

“been with her long enough now it’s routine,” john said simply. he checked his weapons before heading for the exit. “helo in 5, be air ready.”

—

the mission had gone to shit, and they were stuck hidden in a building that looked like it was 10 seconds away from collapsing under a brisk wind when ghost finally felt his patience snap.

it was no one’s fault, but being stuck in another country with no back up and a target on their backs for an extra three weeks wasn’t ideal and johnny’s insistence on playing cards at every opportunity to keep his idle hands and mind busy combined with gaz’s tinny whistling had made for the perfect scenario to grate on simon’s patience quicker than anything else ever had.

“tell us about her. ya wife,” simon asked, his gaze slipping across to john, watching him pick at his nails. his cuticles were red and raw from four days of agitated fidgeting since they’d ran out of cigars and cigarettes. every so often simon caught him pat his empty pocket before he’d remember and huff heavily through his nose like a bull.

john closed his eyes at the mention of his wife and sighed. he started his description without protest or hesitance. “shes soft spoken. christ, you’d hardly know she was there half the time, she’s so quiet. but she’s firm. stands her ground no matter what,” he chuckled. “don’t think i’ve ever won an argument against her.”

kyle laughed and ghost closed his own eyes, trying to picture what he thought the captain’s wife might look like. pretty certainly, but was she tall, plump, did she have an endearing gap between her front teeth, did she keep her hair short or long?

“she’s a bit of a homebody,” john admitted bashfully, unaware of simon’s drifting thoughts. “but i can’t say i mind it.”

“not wanting to leave the bedroom much when yer back?” johnny joked, hissing when ghost punched his thigh.

john just smiled placidly, eyes still closed. his eyebrows pulled down as he gushed, “god she’s gorgeous in red. wears it every time i come home.”

“lucky bastard,” gaz huffed.

“yeah.” john nodded and finally opened his eyes. “yeah, lucky.”

“you’ll be back with her soon, cap,” gaz reassured him when he saw price swallow thickly.

“thanks, gaz. now who’s taking first watch tonight? soap?”

—

john was quiet on the plane ride home, not unusually so, but ghost noticed the difference all the same.

he was pensive perhaps, worried what his wife would say when he finally got home a month later than scheduled, uncontactable the entire time. ghost could understand to a certain degree that john would have more important things on his mind than what his three subordinates were going to do as soon as they stepped foot on home soil, so he didn’t push when john ignored the few threads of conversation thrown his way by their younger sergeants. instead he nodded when john said a quick goodbye as they all parted ways in the airport.

simon could only assume john was the same all the way home in the cab that dropped him outside of his little three bed house.

he didn’t see however how john hesitated at the door to his home that evening. how he gripped the front door keys tightly in his fist, shook as he stared down at his feet instead of letting his eyes drift and catch on the windows, and felt as though he could crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

he finally opened the door when he thought the neighbours might begin to get worried and stepped inside, flicking on the lights as he went.

it wasn’t until he got to the kitchen that he found her.

stood bare foot, silent, eyes wide and pleading, blood seeping - always seeping. would it ever stop? would the blood ever end? - through her white pyjama top, his top that she’d borrowed for the night, and trickling down her bare legs.

her mouth opened and she visibly struggled for breath, but no sound escaped even as her tongue wagged on the floor of her mouth, lapping at the backs of her teeth as all words escaped her.

he swallowed back bile.

“hello, sweetheart,” he choked out. “sorry i’m late.”

the blood pooled at her feet, the panties she wore were seeped a dark purple from the viscus liquid dying the dark blue material and the shirt stuck to her front. john had remembered loving seeing her like this in a morning, had always thought she looked best in as little clothing as possible.

“i know you hate it when work keeps me busy, but it was unexpected. we were caught—“ a high screech, not dissimilar to that of a whistle that only a dog could hear, pierced through his ears and cut his words short. he curled in and covered his ears, but he knew it would do no good, he should’ve known better than to talk about work around her.

not after what had happened last time he got back late after overtime.

tears prickle at his eyes and the sound abruptly stopped. he’d never questioned why it seemed to be only him that could hear her protests, why his neighbours never mentioned a shrill cry every so often from his home. he had always said she was made for him and that had apparently translated literally into the afterlife.

he looked up at her again - it was best not to ignore her he found. it only made her angry.

“it won’t happen again,” he promised wetly. “i did my best to get back as soon as i could, i promise, sweetheart—“ he choked on his words, biting back a sob. she watched unblinkingly, silent except for the wet squelch of her feet on the laminate.

they both knew he wasn’t apologising for being late this time. he got like this sometimes, when her agonised face and mangled body was too much to bear after a long mission and the guilt bore down like a physical presence.

he couldn’t help but think if he’d gotten home even just an hour earlier he might’ve been able to save her, to have kept her company instead of leaving her on the floor alone and cold, maybe he could have caught the bastards that had hurt her while he was still travelling back from deployment after agreeing to hang back and finish his paperwork there and then instead of emailing it across.

he reached a shaking hand forward and blew out a ragged breath when his hand met nothing but frigid air. but when he brought his hand up to his face he could smell the copper tang of his dead wife’s blood on his skin. the stench unwashable, cloying, but if he concentrated hard enough it ever so faintly smelt like the vanilla perfume she used to wear.

“was telling the lads about you, love,” he forced an empty chuckle as he walked around her to the kettle and went through their usual routine. “think they might’ve fallen a little in love, not that i could blame them.”

he ran a hand over his face and gave himself a moment to let the tears fall as his palm hid his eyes. her silence was the worst part of it all, but he could see the glaring red of her in his peripheral when he dropped his hand to the counter.

it wasn’t pretending his wife was still alive if she was right there at his shoulder, was it?

“looks like i’ll need to grab you some more pg tips, sweetheart,” he said and poured the boiling water into two cups, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his wife. “we’re almost out.”

post link

[rebouks]

Invictus: Author's Note

Now that we've all survived the horrors, I figured I'd do a bit of a commentary on Robin's nightmare below the cut...

I guess the central themes we were going for within Robin's dream were threefold; the fact that he feels lonely/alone with the burden of his gift, that he's worried about Alex, and that his friends (and some other's) are annoying/confusing him, so let's break that down to begin with.

Robin was always destined to be the last one alive, mostly to compound his feelings of desolation, but also because planning/executing various endings would've taken way longer than 2-3 months to plan on my own 😅 He doesn't dare tell anyone about his abilities due to the fear of being judged or ostracised and I don't blame him. Most people wouldn't believe him, and those that might would probably avoid him or at least act differently around him even if they supported him; he's also paranoid that if a medical professional found out, they'd want to study him or god knows what else, hence the scepticism from the group when he told them (in the nightmare) and his twisted view of Doctor Abbott (who's actually a perfectly lovely psychologist in the waking world).

Alex hasn't written for over six months at this point and Robin doesn't know why; it's not as if they've slowly been losing touch over time with less and less communication either, her letters stopped without warning! Half of him expects there to be a reasonable explanation, but he can't help worrying. Clearly his subconscious mind ran away with all that concern...

Robin's classmates personalities were spot on (thanks to Robin's gift) but slightly exaggerated since each one of them is a proverbial thorn in Robin's side at the moment.

Levi: Extra impulsive, standoffish and contradictory within Robin's dream, I think it's fairly obvious Robin's still pissed at his friend. I toyed with the idea of Robin being the only one to make decisions that we could vote on, but thought the loss of control he'd feel from not being able to stop bad outcomes from happening off the back of other people's choices was far more apt. Levi continues to tread a questionable path irl and Robin can't stop him.. if only he'd just apologise!

Penny: Robin strongly dislikes Penny, hence her being super annoying.. not that she's much better in the waking world! If the psychic doesn't rate someone, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet they're not such a great person.. I'm sure he wishes his friend wasn't so into her 💀

Aster: I think the fact that Aster's stood up for Robin twice now had a big impact on how he acted; he tried to keep the peace where he could and was the only one who supported Robin after he'd told the group about his gift. Robin doesn't know him very well outside of his dream though, so some of this could just be a projection based on what little evidence he has 🤷‍♀️

Jacob: Robin's a bit annoyed/put off by Jacob right now.. he barely spends any time with him and Jude anymore and as they've gotten older, their personalities appear to be veering in different directions. He's volatile, haughty and obsessed with girls, hence his distrust toward Robin after the revelation of his gift and his less-than-stellar treatment of Tess.

Tess: Tess goes where Jacob goes, simple! Though Robin feels bad for her because he knows that she's way more into Jacob than he is and he's not faithful; that's why he so obviously dismisses his own girlfriend within the dream. In the waking world he's much more convincing, but Robin knows better.

What the hell was "x" about?

The dolls - they were usually found pointing toward danger and/or bad decisions, but did we listen? NOPE! Instead we chose to vilify them 😩

The Lab - this was actually a warped version of the seed vault/hydroponic garden Robin, Wren & Oscar explored in Granite Falls. That's why the retina detection system recognised him, 'cause he has technically been there before. I'm not a professional, so don't quote me on this, but apparently our minds can't conjure up people/places/things from nothing, so what we usually see in our dreams is stuff we've seen before or an amalgamation of various things mashed together, even if we don't actively remember them.

The Asylum - Sunnyside Asylum is a real place Robin read about on a late night internet delve down a rabbit hole (don't judge him, we've all done it) he just forgot he'd read about it or seen it before 🤷‍♀️

The butterflies - they're Alex's favourite animals (along with the humble moth!) so Robin thought they were leading him to her, but they were not ;-;

"So, I suppose you know-..." - what was Aster going to say!? Aster was about to assume that Robin knows he has a crush on him, and he'd be correct! Robin never really picked up on it before, but after recent events it's pretty obvious.. to Robin at least! Does he like Aster back? Well, maybe he doesn't know yet, or maybe it's a secret, but (spoiler alert) Robin's pansexual, so there's a chance he could.

Doctor Abbott - briefly mentioned before, but let's dig deeper!

Dr. Abbott is the psychologist Oscar/Courtney sent Robin to a while back for his selective mutism after it started hindering him/his schoolwork etc since starting high school. He's terrifying simply because Robin's terrified of him-.. though I suppose not him personally. Robin's torn between a rock and a hard place when it comes to professional help; on the one hand he'd love to offload all his troubles and get some real guidance, but the other side of him worries what that'd mean. He can't tell anyone the full story, so how could anyone truly help him? Is his mutism even connected to his gift, or does he just use it as a convenient excuse? What if they didn't believe him and labelled him insane? What if he IS insane and imagining everyone else's thoughts? What if they do believe him and want to experiment on him?! 😱 If he's gonna tell anyone about his abilities, it sure as shit isn't gonna be some stranger he doesn't trust, even if it appears they mean well! He'd love to know where his gift came from though. Why him? Where'd it come from? Does anyone else have it?? He doubts anyone would be able to answer these questions but it still kinda ties into the whole theme of being experimented on etc. I think at this point he's wondering who he is (as every teen does around his age) or who he'd be without his abilities too, like another part of him is worried he'd be a mere husk of himself if science somehow explained away his world. It's just a part of who he is now and I think he's starting to accept himself as is, so the thought of someone picking it all apart after his acceptance is perhaps more scary than letting anyone in to help make sense of it. Maybe it's just one of those things, or maybe he's bonkers and has no idea? He doesn't know.. he's very confused, hence the complicated feelings around poor, well-meaning Dr. Abbott.

Mr Handy - he gets an honourable mention because it's funny to me.. like he's usually on the players side, right?! Yeah, but Robin isn't fond of technology in general so in dreamland good ol' Mr Handy is a dickhead instead lmao 😂

Some fun what if's & titbits...

I'm not gonna break down all the what if scenarios because there were a LOT but I still wanna take some time to point out some fun stuff n' share a few fun things we missed out on 🤸‍♀️

If Levi tried to scare Robin, it wouldn't have worked in the slightest which I just find amusing 🤭

If Robin n' co. chose to hide instead of run earlier on in the dream, he would've gotten stuck in a closet with Aster eheuheuheu (this is the fun thing I said y'all missed out on!!)

There were numerous ways for Levi to piss Penny off during the duration of the dream (somehow he only managed one so well done ig) that would've potentially changed their demise and one was Tess falling off the ladder and Levi helping her.. look at those mad lil fists on Penny LMAO 😂 You can also see another lovely doll pointing in the direction of the monster that was chasing them but everyone would've been like ewwww! even tho she was just trying to help.. shame on us tbh ;-;

Just Aster being cute tryna keep the peace.. IF HE'D SURVIVED! T-T

Mr Handy being absolutely demented.. love that for him.

Robin being yeeted back to the asylum.. skjsk idk I just like these screenshots lmao

Aster being a menace to both Levi and Penny ehehe

I had such fun creating this little project (I say little but it literally took months fkfjgkj) and October was kinda shitty for me so thank you to everyone for reading along, voting and generally having fun with me, it gave me something to look forward to! 🧡

I love horror and taking a break from a more realistic style of storytelling is always good fun, dreams especially 'cause they can be as wacky as you like!

I suppose my main inspo for the what if's/voting was Until Dawn but I think we can all thank games like Silent Hill, Outlast, Resident Evil, Amnesia etc etc for the general vibes I was going for 🤔

EITHER WAY! Very fun.. 10/10 would recommend trying to stretch yourselves into doing something something similar, I had a blast!

I think I covered a fair amount of questions n' stuff but feel free to ask anything else! ILY 🧡🧡

[sasheemo]

When we collide

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summary: Agatha returns home from the forest with a new secret. While thoughts press at the back of your mind, you and your mother join the coven as it gathers in the crowded hall. Fleeting glances over bowls of soup stir emotions you’d rather ignore.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hey there! Hope you're all liking the story so far 💜 Btw I know in this chapter there is not that much A/R interaction. Initially the chapter was way longer but, because I am trying to have roughly the same word count in each chapter, I decided to split it. I guess you'll have to trust me on this one 😜

Agatha Harkness, the girl you barely used to think about, is now a relentless, and very much unwanted, presence in your mind. Frustration rises, and you shove the memory of her face to the back of your mind. She shouldn’t matter. She never has before, and yet here you are, feeling the weight of her words and glances more than you’d like to admit.

You take a deep breath, pushing yourself up from the bed. If you’re going to this coven thing, you might as well prepare yourself, perhaps find some semblance of calm. You draw a bath, letting the hot water fill the small wooden tub until it steams. The room warms with the scent of dried lavender and rosemary hanging from the rafters, and you allow the faint herbal fragrance to draw you away from the chaos of recent days. As you slip into the water, the warmth engulfs you, soothing your tired muscles. You close your eyes, feeling the heat seep into your skin, untying the knots in your shoulders, loosening the tension that has been building since yesterday. For a moment, you can almost pretend that nothing has changed—that the forest is still yours, untouched and free of anyone else’s chaos.

But as you lean back, eyes closed, Agatha’s image flits across your mind again. Somehow, she’s woven herself in there like an unwelcome shadow. Angrily, you try to banish her from your thoughts, focusing instead on the water’s gentle lapping against your skin, on the scents that fill your lungs with each deep inhale.

Once the water has cooled, you step out and wrap yourself in a thick linen cloth, drying off as you prepare for the gathering. You open your wardrobe, and your hand immediately sets on the smooth fabric of a plain black dress. It’s simple and well-fitted, made of light wool with long sleeves and a round neckline tied with a thin leather lace that you choose to leave a little loose, letting both of its ends sit casually against your collarbone. You could pull it tight, as decorum would suggest, making the neckline neat and formal, but instead, you leave it undone just enough to feel like yourself. A small act of defiance in a world that expects you to be anything but.

Over the dress, you drape a dark blue cloak, the fabric pooling around your shoulders and the hood resting loosely on your upper back. You’ve always felt a particular fondness for cloaks with hoods, not because you always need to hide, but because you could if you wanted to. That quiet option, the choice to retreat into the shadows on your own terms, brings a sense of control, a shield against the world’s prying eyes.

As your hands move to fasten the cloak, you find yourself lingering on the image of the forest. It used to be your sanctuary—untouched, yours alone. But Agatha had invaded that space, not once, but twice, leaving you to be the one who walked away first each time. A sense of injustice rises in you, powerful and irritating. Why should you have to be the one who leaves? Why should she get to linger in the one place that has always felt like home to you?

The thought sits heavily on your chest, and you shake your head, trying to dismiss it. But the doubt that started to plague your mind yesterday after the incident remains: if the forest is no longer the place of peace it once was, will it ever be again?

Suddenly, as you’re absentmindedly fastening the thin silver clasp of your cloak, you hear your mother’s voice, sharp and impatient, calling from downstairs. “It’s time to go!” With a final glance at yourself in the mirror beside your bed, you gather your thoughts and head down. 

Agatha sits in the forest, the quiet that surrounds her feeling fragile, like it could shatter with the smallest movement, but the warmth of the little creature in her lap keeps her rooted to the spot. She certainly hadn’t expected the rabbit to approach her again, let alone come near enough to rest in her lap, but somehow she’s grateful for its presence, its silent, forgiving company.

She lifts the rabbit carefully, cradling it close to her chest. Her fingers graze its soft fur, and an unexpected tenderness rises within her. It feels foolish to feel attached, yet something in her can’t bear to leave it behind. She glances around, ensuring no one is near, before rising to her feet and slipping the rabbit into her worn canvas bag. “You are coming with me.” she whispers.

With a last look at the charred remains of her outburst, she turns and begins the walk home, clutching the bag tightly. The rabbit shifts inside, but she murmurs a soft reassurance, hoping it stays quiet. The path back to her house feels inexplicably longer today. When Agatha finally opens her front door, the inside is eerily quiet, that is until Evanora’s sharp voice rings out from the kitchen the second the door shuts closed. “Where have you been, Agatha?” her mother’s eyes are narrowed, assessing, a mix of anger and annoyance clear in her expression. “Do you have any idea what time it is? We’re due for the coven meeting, and you’re already late.”

Agatha swallows, keeping her voice steady, one hand subconsciously rushing to hide her bag further under her cloak. “I didn’t know there was a meeting today. You didn’t tell me.”

Evanora scoffs, crossing her arms. “It’s been decided this morning but I shouldn’t have to tell you. You should know when you’re expected to be present.”

Ignoring her mother’s reproach, Agatha glances toward the stairs. “I’ll be quick. Just let me change.”

She turns and slips away before Evanora can say another word, her heart pounding as she ascends the stairs, each step feeling like a race against her mother’s scrutiny. Once in her room, she closes the door with a soft click and immediately opens her bag, lifting the rabbit into her hands. Its small body trembles as it adjusts to the new surroundings and Agatha gently strokes its fur, instantly met by a strange comfort in its warmth. She clears a small corner near her wardrobe, layering it with spare cloth to create a makeshift bed. Gently, she settles the creature into its new nest, her fingers lingering for a moment in a silent promise of safety. She can’t help but hope it will stay tucked away, shielded from her mother’s unyielding gaze.

With one last glance at the rabbit, she hurries to change into her formal dress, her fingers moving quickly overt he smooth buttons and fine stitching of her dark purple dress. The fabric, soft yet heavy, falls elegantly around her, with fitted sleeves that taper at her wrists and a high collar that lends an air of formality. Over her shoulders, she fastens a black hooded cloak, its material dense and cool to the touch, shrouding her in shadow.

Around her neck, Agatha clasps a delicate gold pendant, a small medallion inscribed with a protective rune she had crafted herself. She remembers the nights she spent, hidden away in her room up until early mornings, studying by candlelight a tome on runes she had secretly … borrowed from the coven’s grand hall. The process was grueling, the symbols complex, each line and curve requiring absolute precision. But she persevered, tracing and retracing the shapes until her fingers were cramped and her eyes ached. Finally, one night, she had inscribed the rune onto the pendant with practiced care, sealing her first true rune magic enchantment into gold. The medallion now rests close to her heart as she gently grazes it with her index finger, the reminder of a quiet victory.

Agatha stands ready but her mind races, both with thoughts of the gathering ahead and with the unexpected warmth that fills her as she looks once again at the small creature in the corner, a quiet companionship she hadn’t known she needed. For a moment, despite the rush, the heaviness of the long afternoon ahead seems to lessen.

You and your mother walk briskly through the village of Salem, her pace unwavering, her expression set in that familiar mask of determination. When you arrive at the gathering hall—a sturdy building of dark wood and stone, its walls blackened by time and the few shafts of light barely reaching the high-beamed ceiling—you feel the air shift. Inside, the faint scents of dried herbs, incense, and melted wax mingle together, grounding you in the tradition that fills this place.

The room is alive with murmurs, a soft undercurrent of voices that echo off the walls as witches of all ages stand in small groups, their quiet conversations mixing in your ears. In a corner, a mother and her daughter stir a large pot of soup, a simple meal to warm those gathered here on such short notice. A line of people has already formed, each waiting patiently for their share.

Your mother leaves your side almost immediately. Without a word, she moves with purpose to join a nearby circle of witches engaged in quiet discussion. As you glance around, your gaze lands on Evanora, deep in conversation with a small group just a little way off. Her presence is unmistakable, commanding, even in casual conversation. The sight of her brings Agatha to mind immediately, and it’s only moments before you spot her in the food line, closer to the front.

She stands alone, a wooden bowl and spoon in her hands, waiting her turn. A sudden rumbling sound coming from your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten since last night. Quietly, you move to the nearby table, picking up a wooden bowl and spoon for yourself before joining the line, glad for the people separating you and Agatha.

As you wait, your attention drifts to the woman serving the soup, a familiar face in Salem—a witch whose skill with potions has made her somewhat well-known in the village. When Agatha steps forward, the girl’s entire demeanor shifts: her eyes brighten, her posture softens, and she smiles just a bit wider, a hint of something almost playful on her lips.

You’re too far to make out any words they exchange, but you notice how the girl leans in slightly and how her fingers brush over Agatha’s as she hands back the bowl, the touch lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary. Agatha, for her part, doesn’t seem as engaged, responding with a few brief words and a polite nod, her expression unreadable. But the other girl’s interest is unmistakable, her gaze follows Agatha even after she’s moved aside, lingering in a way that feels almost intimate, something close to admiration written plainly across her face.

A strange sensation twists in your chest as you witness the scene, an uncomfortable, unwanted tension. You push the feeling down, telling yourself it doesn’t matter, even as it lingers, sharp and insistent. Then, finally, it’s your turn. You accept the ladle of soup from the woman and you thank her, its warmth radiating through the bowl as you step aside, seeking a place to sit. You find an empty bench and settle down, grateful for the solitude. You’re halfway through your meal when the sound of Evanora’s voice cuts through the room, commanding attention.

Your mother appears at your side almost instantly, her expression steely as her gaze sweeps over you. “That’s enough.” she snaps, voice low but sharp. “Stop dawdling and pay attention. Come, you’ll sit up front with me.” Her tone is icy, leaving no room for objection, as though your place beside her is a matter of necessity rather than choice. The words are a command, edged with impatience, leaving no room for argument.You bite back a retort and set your bowl aside, standing to follow her. 

She leads you to the third row, where you settle yourself, barely containing your irritation as her presence at your side feels like a weight pressing you into place. Her attention is fixed on the front of the room as Evanora steps forward, her voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation, calling the meeting to order. A hush falls over the room, and you force yourself to focus, feeling the heavy atmosphere settle around you. 

Everyone turns toward the front, where the discussion will begin, and as you look forward, your eyes land on Agatha. There, in the first row—a stark reminder of her status—she sits a little to your left, her back to you. Only a single row separates you, and yet somehow, she feels worlds away.

[redocity]

hello, i was wondering if you could do a smut about buck?

Maybe have it where reader has been feeling really insecure lately and buck is like “i’ll fuck you until i hear that you believe it yourself” like he wants her to know that he thinks she beautiful and he wants her to see it

if you can’t that’s totally fine ❤️

PUZZLE PIECES — E.BUCKLEY

you are buck’s person, and he’ll be damned if you doubt that for even a second.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 2.9k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | 18+ MDNI, reader is insecure about herself and her relationship with buck, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv, a lot of whining and general begging, creampie, couch sex

a/n — “i’ll put this in my drafts and upload it after work” she said, *proceeds to forget it exists for four days*

sorry about the wait 😭

The thought had crept in slowly, quiet at first, but lately, it seemed to be everywhere. You would be sitting on the couch, watching Buck’s profile as he talked about his day with that familiar smile and bright eyes, and it would be there, the nagging voice that whispered, He deserves better.

At first, you brushed it off, but each time he did something thoughtful or made you laugh, the voice grew a little louder.

Buck was… everything.

He was kind and funny, dependable and brave, always there for anyone who needed him. And in your quieter moments, you’d find yourself questioning whether you could really be what he needed.

What did you have to offer someone like him?

He seemed to pick up on your change in mood quickly. A few times, you’d caught him watching you, brow furrowed, as though he could see right through you. You’d just smile, trying to reassure him that everything was fine, but he knew better.

Buck was perceptive in a way that sometimes made you feel as though he could see things about you that even you didn’t know.

One evening, as you were lost in thought, he suddenly plopped down beside you on the couch, sliding in close. “Alright, talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You blinked, startled. “About what?”

His hand found yours, fingers warm and steady as he held onto you. “About what’s got you looking like that,” he replied, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin. “You’ve been so quiet lately. And it’s not like you. Something’s wrong.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling to your lap as you tried to find the words. “It’s… nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” he asked softly, still watching you, but you could hear the worry in his voice. “Babe, come on. We both know that’s not true.”

The truth tumbled out in bits and pieces, a little awkward and halting. You told him about the doubts that had been haunting you, how you’d started feeling like maybe he’d be better off with someone else. Someone who could give him more, be more. You didn’t even dare look at him while you spoke, afraid of what you might see on his face.

There was a long silence after you finished, and your heart pounded with nerves. You expected him to try to reassure you, to brush it off or tell you not to worry. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, filled with an unshakeable certainty.

“I mean this with all the love in the world,” he started, and when you glanced up, he was gazing at you with a look so fierce it almost took your breath away. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

The incredulity in his voice caught you off guard. “Buck…”

“Hey.” He cupped your face, tilting it up so you couldn’t look anywhere but into those intense, unwavering blue eyes. “There’s no one on this earth who’s better for me than you. No one.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, slow and deliberate. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

You felt your throat tighten, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you know by now? I was made for you.” His voice trailed off with a kiss against your lips, soft and gentle, as though he were trying to convey what words couldn’t. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

And he wasn’t done, it seemed. He took your hands, held them to his chest as he pressed little kisses on each of your fingers, down to your palms, his lips gentle and warm against your skin. “Do you feel that?” he murmured, his hand covering yours over his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your fingers. “That’s yours. Always has been.”

His touch drifted from your hands up to your face as he kissed you again, brushing his lips across your forehead, your cheeks, even the bridge of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, a wordless way of saying everything you hadn’t been able to believe.

You tried to speak, but he stopped you with a gentle shush, moving his kisses down the column of your neck to your shoulder, as if every inch of you was something sacred that he wanted to worship.

“I’m not stopping until you believe me,” he murmured against your skin, his hands steady and sure as he wrapped them around you. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always.”

“I’m a mess,” you murmured as his lips worked to create a path of fire down your collarbone and along the swell of your breast, teasing the hemline of your v-neck with his lips. “I’m—”

“Perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as his mouth found the valley between your breasts and the sensitive skin of your chest. “You’re perfect for me.”

You shivered under his touch and a gasp broke free from your lips as he moved back up to your mouth, capturing it in another kiss.

He pulled away for a moment to look you in the eye, his breathing as ragged as yours, his gaze full of pure, honest desire. “You’re it for me,” he said, his voice a low, husky rumble. “There’s no one else I want. Just you. Only you.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he pressed his thumb to your lips, cutting off your words. “Don’t fight me on this,” he murmured. “Let me show you how perfect you are for me.”

With that, he crashed his lips to yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he encouraged you back against the couch. His hands were everywhere, his touch gentle yet urgent as he pushed your shirt up, his palms hot against your bare skin.

You arched into him, your body desperate for his touch, your hands seeking purchase on his arms.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over your head, his hands immediately returning to explore your newly exposed skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down the valley between your breasts and along your stomach. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat, every nerve in your body on fire. “Buck…” you gasped, the word more of a plea than anything else. “Please… I need…”

Buck’s eyes darkened slight with desire, his fingers hooking into the waist of your sweatpants and pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, baring you to him completely. “I know what you need,” he murmured, his mouth trailing kisses down your hip and inner thigh. “I’m going to give you everything you need, baby. Just trust me.”

He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider for him. A thrill of anticipation shot through you as his breath ghosted over your core, his lips following the path his breath had taken. “Beautiful,” he repeated, his voice a low, reverential murmur against your skin. "Absolutely perfect for me,”

He ran his tongue tentatively along the length of your slit, drawing a shudder from you, his hands gripping your thighs tight as he teased you, taking his time to lavish attention on every inch of you. You arched against him, your hips rolling, seeking more of his touch. “Please,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer. "Please, Buck…”

Buck’s grip on your thighs tightened at your words, a low grumble rumbling in his throat. “Not yet, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your core. “I’m not done showing you how perfect you are.” He gave your hip a gentle squeeze. "Relax. Let me show you.”

With that, he licked a long, slow stripe up through your folds, his tongue flicking against your clit briefly before moving back down, drawing another shudder from you. He repeated the motion, over and over, his tongue working with purpose to show you how deeply he was lost in you, in the feel of you, the taste of you.

Every touch of his tongue was a jolt of pleasure, your nails digging into his scalp as you arched against him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Buck—” you gasped, your thighs quivering under his grip. “Please, I can’t—”

Buck pulled away, his chin glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You can,” he said, his voice a low, raspy rumble. “You will. Just a little longer, baby.” He teased a finger into your entrance, and your breath caught in your throat again. “I just need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

He moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a bruising kiss, his body pressing you down into the couch. You could feel the hard length of him, still trapped in his jeans, and you rocked against him, desperate for more. “Buck, please,” you gasped. “I need you, please…”

“Soon, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against yours, just enough to make you gasp again. “Soon. I promise.”

He reached between your bodies, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing them down his hips just enough to free himself, the hot length of him resting against your thigh as he kissed you again. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice a low, reverential murmur. “So perfect for me.”

His hands gripped your hips, angling them up to meet him, and he began to press into you, slowly, inch by inch.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, the stretch of him filling you, the heat of him surrounding you, the pleasure of the friction as he moved inside of you.

“Perfect,” he murmured again, his lips against your ear. “So goddamn perfect, god I was made to be with you like this,”

He began to move after a few stationary moments, his hips rocking against yours in a steady, measured rhythm, your bodies moving together in a desperate dance, the pleasure building with every movement. “You feel that, baby?” he gasped, his voice rough with desire. “You feel how well you moulded to fit me?”

You nodded mutely, your voice lost in a gasp as the pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke, every touch of his hands, every movement of his body.

“That’s how I know you were made for me,” he continued, his voice ragged with desire. “Your body fits with mine, like two pieces of a puzzle. You’re mine, baby, don’t ever forget that. You were made for me, and I’m never letting you go.”

His pace picked up, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, his breathing ragged with desire. “Don’t ever think you’re not perfect,” he whispered, his lips against your ear. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, baby. And I’ll keep going until you say you believe me—”

His body was pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. You could feel every muscle of his body taut with tension, every line of him pressed against you.

“Don’t ever doubt how much I want you,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. “I’ll show you over and over again until you believe me, oh god, baby, I’m never going to stop needing you like this. Never.”

His thrusts were increasingly ragged, his rhythm faltering as his climax tried to sneak up on him, only for him to force it down so he could focus on you.

“Say you believe me, baby,” he gasped, his voice a pleading murmur against your skin. “Say you’ll never doubt what you mean to me, because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted— everything— and I can’t live without you, baby, I can’t—”

“I believe you,” you gasped, your own climax building within you, teetering on the edge of release. “I believe you, I do, Buck, I believe you—”

“Say you won’t ever doubt yourself again,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire. “Say you’ll believe me when I tell you how perfect you are, because you are perfect, baby, and I will fuck you like this every day if that’s what it takes to make you believe it—”

“I won’t,” you gasped, your words punctuated by a gasp as your eyes squeezed shut from the stimulation. “I won’t doubt myself, I promise, but please, Buck, I need–”

“I know what you need, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to give it to you. Over and over and over again, until you’re so full of me, and so sated that you’ll never doubt us again.”

His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his own climax, as he sought to bring you to the edge, to push you over and bring you to the release you needed.

“Come for me, baby,” he pleaded, his voice ragged with desire. "I need to feel you come apart beneath me, I need it, baby, come on—”

You cried out at his words, your body shuddering with pleasure at the combination of his touch and his words, the pleasure within you cresting and crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body arched against him, your hands clinging to him as if your life depended on it, your breaths coming out in gasps.

Buck groaned as he felt you come apart beneath him, the feeling of you clenching around him drawing a guttural moan from him. “Oh god, baby,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “That’s it, oh god, baby, I’m right there, I’m right there—”

His pace quickly picked up, his thrusts ragged and desperate, his body tense with the need to join you. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Gonna make you mine, gonna make sure you know you’re mine forever—”

His thrusts became erratic, his breath coming out in gasps as he rode the edge of his orgasm. “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna come inside you, okay?”

“Yes,” you gasped, you hands desperately clinging to him, “yes, please, I need it, I need you—”

With a final, ragged gasp, he came hard, his body shuddering as his orgasm coursed through his torso and down his legs, spilling his release into you, white and hot and possessive in a way his words would never be.

He collapsed against you, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. “God, baby,” he panted, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually,” you murmured, your own breathing still slightly ragged. You reached up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. “You’re damn convincing, Buckley.”

He chuckled at your comment, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. "I meant every word, baby," he murmured, his lips drifting up the column of your neck to your ear. "You're perfect for me, and I'll keep proving it to you until you believe it yourself.”

You hummed contentedly at his words, your body relaxing against him, boneless and sated. You could feel the warm, sticky aftermath of his release between your legs, and you tightened your thighs together involuntarily at the sensation. “I think I believe you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing small circles along his back.

He chuckled again at your words, his hands roaming your body, tracing a lazy path along your curves. "You're damn right you believe me," he said, his voice still rough with emotion. "And if you ever forget it, I'll just have to remind you again. Over and over and over...”

He rolled the two of you over, pulling you close against his chest and wrapping you in his embrace. "But for now," he said, his voice softer now, "I just want to hold you. Just feel you in my arms, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing a slow, soothing circle on your back. "I love you, you know that?" he murmured, his voice gentle and full of tenderness. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I'm never letting you go.”

You smiled at his words, snuggling closer against his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "I love you too, Buck," you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "More than anything.”

[aethesfaelibrarae]

(holy shit was I not expecting anyone to like that previous Mouthwashing post—but thank you, genuinely for reading it and this one)

The Mouthwashing brain worms speak to me again—let's talk about hierarchy and caste and the implications in Mouthwashing one more time.

Say what you will about Jimothy's cowardly ass: he's not an idiot. The apathy of the crew is, at least, in part maintained by the top of the ladder: Curly and Pony Express.

Curly starts the game at the top of the ladder, able to help out a guy he perceives in a rough spot with a snap of his fingers, able to control how much sugar anyone got.. Able to control the food, the medicine, the weapons. Curly isn't the sort of person to abuse his power.

But he also isn't the type to use it.

Next up is Jaundice. His second in command, his (traitorous backstabber) right hand man. We'll get back to him.

No, who come next in this hierarchy can be debated—is Daisuke for his youth and potential or is it Swansea for his seniority? It could be both, depending upon the lens of examination. When the chips are down.. Or when they're still able to make a bet?

I'm going with Swansea, simply because of the fact that both Curly and Catastrophic Jameson's headass respect him. Neither of them really correct or step in to ask about his behavior with Daisuke, Jaundiced is more than happy to leave the room alone until it stands in his way and up until the chase sequence is largely unwilling to get into physical altercation.

Daisuke is next on the rung—an intern getting his due hazing. Young, plucky, clumsy, the aimless silver spooned baby of the crew. He wants to be liked by people in the higher rungs and he trusts in their authority. To his own detriment. But for the most part, he's neither too high for the responsibility or too low to really suffer in forced silence. He's protected.

Anya is not. As the sole woman of the crew, soft-spoken, heavily pregnant and forced to entertain her abuser's delusions of grandeur with the wreckage evidence of how far he's willing to go to get rid of her, rinse his mouth of her, all around them.. She starts the game on the bottom of the ladder—ignored, talked over, dismissed. People's—Curly and Catastrophe Jim—eyes skip over her without thinking. It's easy to dismiss her. Empathy is extended to her as an afterthought. Her death an inevitable tragedy. Because either way of framing it, without access to the ax or the gun, the ship was Jimothy's way of shutting her up for good and she knows it. In my previous post, I touched on the difference between the situations that Anya and Curly find themselves and in all honesty, it's defined by who finds themself at the bottom of the rung when Mr. J finds himself a way to the top.

And who else would it be but our resident golden boy himself, Captain Enablement—I mean, Curly. Now that he's completely disabled, useless and helpless.. He finds himself in a position even worse than Anya's. Both of them taking on the brunt of Jimmy's worldview—he's gotten way more than he bargained for from Anya and besides, she was a means to an end. At the moment of the assault, she was an object, the lower rung of the perceived ladder. It wasn't his fault, just look at her—And afterwards.. Well, this whole thing could also be framed as spite. Sneaking behind the golden boy's back and "stealing his girl" or whatever, maybe he knew that he'd be caught and wanted to see something other than Curly's gentle understanding. He wants more. And in direct opposite to Anya, Curly is the center of his world. The spindle upon which Jaundice's last steadily fraying thread of sanity spins. And what an awful place it is to be. He gets front row seats to hindsight truly becoming 20/20 vision when it's a barrel of shotgun—and you're jealous of the fact that it's not aimed at you. He suffers being consumed and thus consuming himself. Looking into why didn't Jimothy just cut up any of the others is a fascinating exercise. By the time he starts eating Curly, this is not the first time he's imagined Curly in the place of food—of nourishment. He imagines him in the place of cake—even the way that he cuts a part of Curly's leg is reminiscent of the way that Curly cuts into the cake. (yes, what the heck Curls but then again, gelatin probably feels weird to cut). Eating someone is often a taboo form of intimacy in media like Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain or Tokyo Ghoul..Listen. There's a reason why vore is popular.—it's the most violent type of intimacy.

It's the only type of intimacy Jimmy engages with on screen and yet—There's an equally fascinating intimacy in consuming yourself. And even that is ruined.. Being forced to eat your bile-covered offal again and again and again.. A memory that would scar on its own. But. With the implications of this being the one type of intimacy that Jimmy feels comfortable sharing combined with what the game says about rape culture have "good" men protect and enable their friends.. There's another angle of their friendship there.

Jimmy loves Curly as much as he hates him. He wants him to suffer. He wants him to live. He wants him dead. Who is saying I hope this hurts?

The hierarchy traps them in so many ways—and the first time we see it for what it is is with Curly. Not Jimmy. From Curly's perspective, we see him unfocused and exhausted and Anya offers him a helping ear and he can't accept it. He's the Captain. He can't be seen asking his subordinate for help. Jimmy was removed from the hierarchy in Curly's eyes. Maybe even at the same spot. Co-captains. Two peas in a pod—except one is a festering open wound and the other has his eyes tightly closed, quietly muttering he can fix it if he just gets a little bit more time.. Can't tell the difference between who's who?

Top or bottom of the hierarchy—awful and isolating for two men who claim to take responsibility. Both have some level of inferiority complex—a complex that I'd argue is the becoming the bread and butter of modern day society but is steadily starting to show the signs of where it's been baked into the perceptions of being a man—there is the fear of someone bigger, better and more capable of you.. But there's also that small quiet part that gets told men don't cry that desperately, desperately, wants to have no choice. Almost takes comfort in the idea of someone better than you.

And everyone in between their rungs gets crushed as collateral.

In a caste made by white supremacy, white able-bodied young men who meet societal standards for being in their prime are at the top. Old enough to know better, young enough to play stupid have potential. Just look at all our promising young rapists men with their whole lives ahead of them.

On a ship like the Tulpar, that hierarchy gets a necessary edge—the Captain is the most useful person aboard the ship, the most needed. The man of the proverbial house. The co-captain is like being called vice president—made only as important as the person in that role can make it. Otherwise it's a hollow consolation prize. And Jimothy can't work an honest day in his life. So it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Then would be the nurse but.. It's a feminine job, a pink collar job through and through. If Anya had been a man, the jokes would have been targeted at her masculinity but as she is a woman, the role and her usefulness to the crew are invisible necessities. The quiet labor and genius that keeps great men going. I think people underestimate how much work goes into even passing the N-CLEX to become an RN. Anya was trying to get into medical school—she studied the human body extensively and in all honesty, the way that I've read it is (especially with the context clues of her being overlooked continuously) she just wasn't important enough to help out. Medical textbooks are expensive on their own and tests can be upwards of 2,000 dollars (my sources: my mom had to take the N-CLEX 3 times when I was much younger and the financial strain was ridiculous especially if you want to get in on a study group).. And Anya clearly worked for that goal. You don't throw that kind of money at anything else but the goal—the one you could just swear would make it all worth it. Maybe if she was Doctor Anya, the crew would've treated her better.. Her usefulness cemented and people would question how such a nervous woman made it through medical school.. Maybe it would have made Jimmy worse. There's nothing hollow about being a doctor after all.

But Anya is Anya and so Swansea, the mechanic is useful. He keeps the ship going and Daisuke in line. Bitter Knowledge and the Dog Days of Youth.

Wasted Potential (double entendre) and Boundless, Wasting Potential.

Immediately useful and eager to be useful.

Then there's Post-Crash Curly. And I must stress, your usefulness is not your value as a person. But then again, where would ableism find its footing save for such a sad hierarchy? And let's call a spade a spade, once Curly loses his ability to interact with the world as he once did, his skin literally peeled open to expose the soft inner flesh to the cruelty of the world, his small bit of usefulness as a Captain gone.. Most people on the ship act accordingly. Daisuke and Swansea, their places on the ladder's rung unchanged fairly quickly become enured to Curly's cries of pain. Anya, the closest to the his newfound rung.. Continues to care for him, unable to free him as he was unable to free her. Jimmy is all too happy to grind his boot in Curly's face as many times as he can. Until he feels better.

But he won't. He can't.

The game touches on the haves vs the have-nots a lot as well as the creeping sense of human work becoming obsolete, that body horror in being made useless by your own complicity but where it absolutely shines in Jimmy and Swansea—especially Swansea's final speech—is the messaging about the never-ending demand for more, for greener pastures leaving you hollow and bitter. Curly seemed well-aware of Swansea's thought process and leaves him be but internally agrees and fears that ending if he stays in the Captaincy for too much longer.

And that's where I think Jimmy really thinks it was a win-win for him and Curly. He truly doesn't think of the pain that Curly must find himself in, worsened by the constant beatings and continual medical assault. He doesn't think about it as anything more than Curly being a nuisance. One more way that Curly just didn't trust him not to fuck up his eyes eternally trapped in the cold hate and fear as he watches Jimmy proceed to ruin the one thing he took pride in as the metaphorical man of the house: keeping the crew safe.

Jimmy thinks of himself as the son who stayed faithful, worked himself to the bone, only to receive scraps while his undeserving brother is celebrated and lauded.

Within the hierarchy, the system is only as "good" as who remains on top. And "good" people, blindly faithful and eternally forgiving, aren't ruthless enough to stay up there for long.

Jimmy's not a good person but he's not stupid. And he's very ruthless. While there may have been somewhat of a hierarchical situation before he joined the crew, it's clear from his conversations with Anya, Curly valued a more lateral role system as he felt trapped in Pony Express's all-consuming ladder over Jimmy's rigid rungs of better and worse.

But over and over, he isolated the crew to their sectors. Over and over, he demeaned Anya, insulted her and Curly. Leaned into the insults of Daisuke. Left Swansea alone for the most part.

Anya, as much as it pains me to admit this, could have worked with Swansea earlier. But would that have worked? What about Daisuke—the younger version of Curly's eternal optimistic "I've never seen the dead pixel" attitude? The isolation absolutely worked. There's no imagining a world in which it doesn't work unless you imagine the crew as better than they are.

And that's just one more tragedy we can't rinse out of mouths with mouthwash.

[randomthefox]

No matter how you look at it, there's no way to interpret Lanolin's current portrayal as anything other than a violent dictator or an abusive parent.

Her teammates are scared of getting beat by her. Whisper has been extra mopey ever since Lanolin smacked her onto the ground. Tangle saw Lanolin using a punching bag and then laments how she's scared of the sheep.

She prioritizes bossing people around more than saving people who are about to die. Clutch was revealed as an eco terrorist MERE SECONDS AGO and Lanolin is too busy bitching about Sonic to react to this new information.

She only listens to people that she personally deems as tolerable. There's no reason for Lanolin to trust "duo" more than her teammates and the heroes who've saved the world. She just arbitrarily decided that he's "better" than the others.

She NEVER EVER listens to anyone else's perspective or argument. Lanolin will endlessly move the goalpost so that she can end the discussion by mocking or smacking someone.

Lanolin is a contemptible wretched cunt.

It's so frustrating because it's just another case of this comic gaslighting me because I am tearing my hair out trying to figure out how the comic is trying to portray the character. The comics copium huffing ass fans seem convinced that Lanolin is being written as a flawed and combative presence who has friction with the other characters on purpose, but that doesn't really pan out because as I keep emphasizing: NOBODY EVER CALLS HER OUT FOR HER BEHAVIOR. She just runs roughshot over everybody completely unchallenged, allowed to have the last word in every single conflict she's a part of (and usually instigates) even though she IS (always) objectively wrong.

But that's the thing. She IS objectively wrong. Like, I will never not go back to this page.

Tangle is 100% correct. Lanolin COULD have just said something first. She SHOULD have. Even if it would have been stern and snappy because of her foul mood, shouting at Tangle something like "would you KNOCK that off, I'm trying to THINK here!" would have conveyed the same thing, that Lanolin is feeling high strung and stressed out and is frustrated at Tangle's immature behavior, while still being a completely reasonable way to handle the conflict. And it would have made this follow up actually MAKE SENSE and honestly be funny.

Lanolin seeing Tangle reaching back out for the paddle ball after she firmly told her to knock that shit off earlier and smacking the paddle ball away without verbally acknowledging what happened would have been a perfectly reasonable and amusing escalation of the conflict. Lanolin USED HER WORDS like an ADULT to tell Tangle to stop, Tangle initially acquiesces, but then gives into the devil on her shoulder to try going back to doing it and Lanolin lashes out. It would have been a pretty simple set up and pay off that would have effectively communicated Lanolin is experiencing some growing pains in this leadership role she's taken into but IS trying her best.

But as it is in the comic as written, Lanolin was annoyed by Tangle's paddle balling and IMMEDIATELY RESORTED TO VIOLENCE by SMACKING the toy out of Tangles hand WITHOUT COMMUNICATING THAT IT WAS BOTHERING HER. You could ARGUE that she was making her feelings known nonverbally and Tangle is at fault for not picking up on the social ques of Lanolin's body language, but that's bullshit. Tangle is fucking autistic and everybody knows it. Tangle SINCERELY did not understand that she was doing anything wrong or that Lanolin was upset by it. She couldn't possibly have known, and Lanolin did absolutely nothing to COMMUNICATE that fact to her. Instead Lanolin ROUGHLY SNATCHES THE TOY OUT OF HER HANDS in a way that was clearly very aggressive and distressing for Tangle. And she's left muttering under her breath that Lanolin COULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING.

And yeah. She should have said something. She is OBJECTIVELY being a cunt and nobody in their right mind could possibly think she was anything but in the wrong for that behavior. Frankly if I was Whisper I would have gotten pissed the fuck off and started mad dogging sheep girl for laying hands on my boo, but I guess Whisper is still kinda pissed at Tangle for the "diamond cutters" thing.

Not to mention the whole Duo confrontation where Lanolin immediately starts sucking this fucking random newguy off and treats everyone else like shit for no fucking reason. And this panel.

I don't care what the INTENTION of this panel is. Look at their fucking expressions. There is no other way to interpret this besides that Tangle is AFRAID of Lanolin, who is TRANSPARENTLY threatening violence in retribution against Tangle if she doesn't back up Lanolin's side of things. This is 100% an "abusive parent silently ordering their child to tell the nice police man that the cigarette burns were an accident or else they're gonna get whipped" panel. ESPECIALLY considering the previous interaction as I detailed above where Lanolin has already displayed a history of violent aggression towards Tangle. Tangle is AFRAID of Lanolin, which is only further emphasized in the current storyline.

"I'm scared of what she'll do."

This..... CAN'T be an accident, right? This is not subtext, this is text. Lanolin is abusive towards Tangle, and Tangle has developed a trauma response to Lanolin's aggressive and violent behavior.

If this were any other comic I'd say this is open and shut black and white - Lanolin is a BAD PERSON, and we as the audience are meant to see her as a bully and a tyrant. That the comic wants us as the audience to dislike Lanolin because she's objectively terrible.

But it's impossible to know for sure because like I said: NOBODY EVER CALLS LANOLIN OUT! The video game characters of Sonic Tails and Amy DO NOT UTTER A SINGLE WORD IN THEIR OWN DEFENSE when Lanolin starts reading them the riot act.

Seriously, look at this. Seriously read these panels. SONIC TAILS AND AMY DO NOT SAY A FUCKING WORD. They might as well be UNCONSCIOUS for all the difference it makes.

isn't that COMPLETELY NONSENSICAL? Shouldn't SONIC THE HEDGEHOG be telling Lanolin to blow it out her ass because he's all about freedom? Shouldn't Tails be trying to defend his tech and plead for a chance to have it inspected? Shouldn't Amy be calling Lanolin heartless for not expressing an ounce of concern about her well being or praising Sonic for rescuing her?

And then later at the diner, Sonic Tails and Amy don't have a single negative word to say against Lanolin for DQing them! They're all just spitballing about Clean Sweep! None of them resent Lanolin AT ALL.

And then later when Lanolin is being CLINICALLY FUCKING INSANE and trying to arrest Sonic while the sky is falling down, he just says this

Not "hey, crazy bitch, lay your fucking hands on me when I'm trying to save my friends and watch what happens"? Not "NOW IS SERIOUSLY NOT THE TIME"? Not "why do you even fucking care I didn't even do anything bad anyway"?

No, he treats her umbrage with him as VALID. He is DEESCALATING the confrontation by taking culpability.

THAT'S. DERANGED.

Lanolin is NEVER challenged or confronted BY THE VIDEO GAME CAST (except for Silver, who is beaten down like a dog because Evan Stanley thinks Silver needs to be an uwu soft boy bean instead of depicting him authentically to his video game self as someone who would have absolutely fucking strangled Lanolin to death with his psychic powers for getting in his way when attacking Duo). Lanolin is never CALLED OUT for BEING WRONG by ANYBODY IN THE STORY. Not by her boss Jewel. Not by the people who SHOULD have seniority over her, the games cast. Not by her peers. Only her subordinates (who SHOULDN'T be subordinate to her) Tangle and Whisper grumble and complain about her actions only to be stomped down into compliance and have to resort to hushed behind closed doors schemes against her interest.

I'M FUCKING GOING INSANE, WHICH IS IT YOU STUPID FUCKING COMIC? IS LANOLIN SUPPOSED TO BE A BITCH OR NOT? IF SHE IS, THEN WHY ISN'T ANYBODY TREATING HER LIKE A BITCH? IF SHE'S NOT, THEN WHY IS SHE OBJECTIVELY FUCKING EVIL?

This comic is SO GOD DAMN INCOMPETENT you can't even figure out if you're SUPPOSED to hate a character or not. So instead of hating Lanolin, I just hate the writers instead.

[starspunt]

. . . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

── KINICH + gn!reader

synopsis: kinich liked to get away from the busy city, and sit in the saccharine embrace of your company.

warnings: fluff, pining!childhood friends, mentions food/beverages, modern!au, city/park setting, college!au, mentions exams/studying, kinich playing romance sims is canon to me btw (wc. 705)

note: this is a repost from my old blog.

kinich was a man of few words, able to get his point across without opening his mouth for long. he said things with such confidence, without room for negotiation. you supposed that’s how you found yourself sharing a picnic blanket just off the bank of a stream with him. you’re not entirely sure how he convinced you to come out, but chalked it up to the mushy soft spot you had for him.

you should’ve been at home in your dorm, studying for your exams in your cozy pajamas, with your favorite candle burning and a mug of tea in your hands. maybe you’d even read more of the book series you’d recently gotten into. yes, you easily could’ve pictured it, as you’ve done it more times than you could count.

what you could not have pictured, however, was this scenario. it felt like a scene out of the romance sims you knew mualani would make fun of if she found out kinich secretly played them. flowers bloomed and blossomed all around you, bright bursts of color dotting a lush carpet of vibrant green.

the two of you were thigh to thigh on the short blanket, and a cliche picnic basket sat innocently off to the other side of kinich, and you prayed he couldn’t hear the thundering of your heartbeat. he sat next to you stiffly, pointedly trying not show how much your close proximity and cloyingly sweet scent made him dizzy. he didn’t know whether to praise or berate his past self for not grabbing a larger blanket. 

he could feel the comforting warmth of your skin through your clothes from where you pressed against him, and he felt his breath stutter in his throat. he was glad you were so used to his silence and easily filled the gaps in the conversation with casual chatter. you told him about your studies, the new stationary you just got, and even the campus cat you tend to feed.

while you were stuck in your own world, raving about the convenience store dinner you had last night, your words went in through one ear and out the other. kinich couldn’t help but admire you as you talked so animatedly. the way your eyes widened when you got expressive, the creases around your mouth when you frowned or smiled, or the quick flash of your tongue from behind your teeth.

he admired the depth of your voice, and how you were able to shift it through five different emotions in a few sentences. he admired how you were able to brighten the very air around you, making it feel lighter and more fulfilling as it filled his lungs. it was like you were very thing that let him breathe easy.

he didn’t know how he managed to have you in his life, let alone what he did to make you stay. he used to thank his lucky stars that you stayed, silently thanking you for loving him. silently thanking you for choosing to love him, when you could’ve had anyone else. when you could’ve had someone better.

“kinich?” your honeyed voice pulled him from his thoughts gently, like a soothing serenade composed just for him. his stunning eyes blinked at you, regaining himself as he peered into yours. “thought i lost you for a second. are you alright? you were staring at me.” you gave him that crooked, half smile you gave him whenever he got too quiet.

nodding in confirmation, he turned to pull out your favorite sweets. the fondness he held for you returned in his eyes as he watched you sparkle. when you launched into a full explanation on how to make the said sweets, this time he listened intensely, committing your words to memory and into the you-shaped spot in his heart. 

when you broke off part of your pastry and offered it to him, he thought he might just implode. even more so when you fed the bite to him, the tip of your finger grazing his bottom lip. and when you looked at him with that adoring gaze and tender smile, saying his name in that dulcet tone, he thought that you must feel the same way that he did.

starspunt 2024. do not rewrite, repost, modify, or translate.

[neege]

Lesbian Wolfstar Prom AU!!

Part III

Part I | Part II

Part III!! Finally some substance!!! And an explanation of who the hell Emma Pierce is lol. I just read the lesbian wolfstar au that @werewolfenthusiast just posted and it inspired me to update this since it's been sitting in my drafts hehe. I hope you like it!! Remus is struggling in this one, again...

Oh also I learned how to add a cut!!! Part III below 🥰

Remus had always known to an extent that she wasn't particularly interested in boys, at least not in the way that other girls her age seemed to be. Being homeschooled until she was 14, she didn't really interact with any kids her age, and after spending a year at her new fancy private school, she still didn't have a good understand of what her peers were going on about in regard to the sweaty, annoying boys in their year.

So yeah, she already knew she didn't care to be swept up behind the science building with a strong senior football player so he could shove his tongue down her throat—which honestly... does anyone actually want that??—but it wasn't until a sleepover with Lily Evans, winter break of Sophomore year that things... clicked for Remus. She still remembers the fluttery feeling in her stomach, watching Kate Winslet kiss Leo while Lily braided her hair, and she still isn't sure if it was Kate herself or the feeling of another girl's fingers carding so gently through her curls, but she understood herself a bit better that night.

She never watched Titanic again, and she packed that knowledge away in a private little box shoved to the back of her head, locked and not to be opened until she was maybe 30. Or 40. 

And then she became friends with James and Peter.

And Sirius.

The four of them became fast friends—inseparable at all times—god, she loved them all so much.

But Sirius was different.

It was so hard to understand how Remus felt while being around Sirius. She had always been the most beautiful person in any room, maybe in the world, but although it did not go unnoticed by Remus by any means, there was always something else that just... stood out.

She was so smart and quick and funny in a cool, cutting way that no one else their age was. She was top of the class without trying and she was passionate and she made boys cry. She was captivating. And Remus was drawn to her in a way she's never been before.

And then she showed up to the first day of school with a new hair cut and the entire school whispering behind her back—did you hear? Black's a lesbian now—striding confidently up to their typical lunch spot, and Remus knew: she was in so much trouble. 

From that day forward, all she could think about was Sirius. 

Sirius's laugh.

Sirius's eyes. 

Sirius's long fingers and what they might possibly be able to do... 

It was torture.

But she also couldn't help but feel like maybe there could be something there, Remus and Sirius had always been something else—something different than the soul-bond that James and Sirius had, and something much more than her friendly but strained relationship with Pete, even something unique from the friendships Sirius shared with other girls their year. 

They were different, Remus was so sure.

And just when she was starting to come around to the idea of maybe trying her hand at flirting—for the first time!—James decided it would be a grand idea to discuss Sirius's taste in girls.

It was something that he'd apparently been trying to push with Sirius since she'd come out to them all—he seemed to be under the impression that talking about the girls Sirius might like would make everyone, but especially Sirius, feel more comfortable in their friendships. Remus wasn't sure. She kinda thought that maybe they shouldn't know so much about each other.

Unless it's me she likes. I wouldn't mind knowing that.

It had been a failing endeavor for about 2 months, with Sirius refusing to speak about the subject unless it was to crack a joke about Lily, which James was not very amused by. 

And then one early November school day, it happened. 

"Come on Sirius, we all know you have a type! You're so damn particular about everything else, how could you not!" 

"Shut up, dumbass!" Sirius was leaned back in her plastic school chair, balancing on the back two legs in a way that arched her back and pulled at her shirt to reveal her bellybutton—which Remus was decidedly not looking at.

"Just because you're always drooling after every red head you see doesn't suddenly mean everyone likes the same type of girl. Besides, girls aren't just separated into types like that, they're not movie genres." Remus felt good about this answer. It was smart, like everything else Sirius said. 

"Okay fine! Then just tell me who you like—" 

"Jesus Christ James we've been over this! I don't like anyone, this isn't middle school!"

"Fuck off, I don't believe you at all! You're always so defensive about it whenever I ask, there's gotta be someone here that you like. There's like a million girls at this school—" "Not true." "—there has to be one that you at least think is hot. Just tell me, and I'll drop it." 

Sirius sighed in response and pinched the bridge of her nose with her long fingers, which again, Remus wasn't looking at. She was, however, listening very carefully for Sirius's answer while badly pretending to complete the assignment that had been given to them fifteen minutes ago. She'd answered two out of twenty-five questions so far. 

"If I tell you, you can't make it a whole thing okay?" "I can't promise that at all, but I won't ask again for the rest of the day!"

Sirius squinted at him for a moment before responding, "Deal." 

She sat forward, smacking the chair fully back to all-fours before leaning her elbows on the edge of the desk. She looked around the small classroom, and Remus couldn't help but follow her gaze—what was she looking for? Was there some kind of secret... thing? Some secret power that slowed her gaze long enough to be noticed? Remus wanted it, whatever it was.

Finally, Sirius leaned forward even more, until her voice could be heard quietly as she declared: "Emma Pierce is pretty hot." 

Emma. Emma Pierce. 

Varsity Cheerleader with the long, smooth blonde hair and beautiful curves that Remus has heard Pete grossly wax poetic about on many occasions. 

That Emma Pierce.

James let out a long whistle and clapped Sirius on the back—Remus noticed the pale-pink tint developing on her lovely cheeks and it made her stomach lurch.

"Damn Sirius. I was right, you would go for the hottest girl in school—" "Lily, James?" "—excluding my beautiful Lily of course. Nice! you should make a move, see where it leads!"

Sirius let out a short, loud laugh and shoved James away roughly. "I'm not going for anyone, dipshit. I just think she's pretty, she's got that long hair and... yeah I'm not talking about this anymore, actually!" She stood up as the bell rang and began collecting her things. "Someone wake up Pete, I think he drooled on his assignment." 

Remus sat, stunned, and thought about her own frizzy brown hair. The color of dirt. 

It at least used to be long, down to her waist even, but Remus had decided to chop it all off as a show of solidarity with Sirius this year. Her mom had cried when she cut it. She'd wanted it to look edgy and cool, kind of like the short, mullet-y style hair Sirius sported now, but it looked more like she was the young mom of a two year old with a baby on the way. The frizzy curls now just touched under her jawline, and when Sirius had first seen it, she had ruffled the curls aggressively with a beaming smile. It was amazing.

"Moons, you alright?" Sirius broke her out of her reverie, and was looking at her with wide, concerned steel-grey eyes. 

Her eyelashes are so long. 

"Yeah... m'fine Pads." 

Oh my god, I'm so fucked.

[kopikokiki]

444 (you're still blue).

— In which Elio breaks up with Kie. Her first move? To call her mom.

— Tags: @meistwentyinchheels, @calico-fleur.

— Likes & reblogs are appreciated! <3

NOW PLAYING: TV - BILLIE EILISH

Kie makes a point to call her A-ma with Kalo whenever she gets the chance to—but with how hectic classes have been, they’ve all agreed to keep it to one call every two weeks. It’s taken a bit of working around, but with Kalo’s eye for a meticulous schedule, they’ve managed to fit exactly one call every two weeks into all three of their schedules. The time varies, but it somehow always lands at a time when they’re all available to talk.

And maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the wave of heartbreak so overwhelming he’s clutching at his chest, but Kie might have forgotten that 2:37 in the morning on a Tuesday is not one of those times.

Still, her a-ma picks up.

“Kie?” And oh, the static of her voice is so sweet and familiar and unknowing that hearing it only serves to bring fresh tears to Kie’s eyes.

“A-ma–” Kie starts, voice hitching from how violently his hiccups jerk his body, “I— I–...A-ma—”

“Baby,” her A-ma murmurs, and there’s a rustling on the other end of the line; fabric, most likely a blanket being pushed aside. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Kie likes to think he is a good child. He puts every modicum of effort he can summon into making sure his A-ma doesn’t have to worry about him—from patching up his own knee scrapes and memorizing which steps creaked along the pathway from his room to the medicine cabinet, to filling out all of his college applications alone and booking his own flight all the way across the country so she wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of it for him; he does all he can to make sure his A-ma does not have to waste more of her concern on him than she already does.

Kalo was always a little reliant on A-ma, anyway. Why would Kie want to give her A-ma someone else to constantly worry about the way she does with Kalo, even now that it’s grown up and a little more independent? How could she ever hope to be so presumptuous as to think her A-ma would take on that kind of responsibility without some kind of consequence?

How could he even dare to put that much more on her shoulders?

(How could anyone?)

…

But then again, these are outstanding circumstances. Unavoidable circumstances. The kind that would make someone call their mom at two in the morning just to cry about it.

And Kie, for all of her cautiousness and self-reliance, knows that A-ma understands those kinds of circumstances better than anyone.

Kie likes to think he is a good child.

Maybe this whole time, she’s been thinking wrong.

Because the way he lets a sob, unrestrained, gurgle from his throat and directly into the speaker of his phone as his body heaves over like the weight of the world is pressing down on his back—that is not something a good child would do.

“No, A-ma,” she wails, fingers digging creases into a sticky note covered in scribbled scars—a memento, a tribute to what she’d lost not moments before, “it’s— I’m not okay.”

A-ma is a good mom, though.

And maybe, for once, Kie can let himself be selfish enough to be grateful for that.

(It’s not like he has much of a choice right now, anyway.)

“Kie, honey,” A-ma says, kind but firm in a way that brings her a couple inches back to reality—not quite, but it’s there nonetheless and she knows it. “Talk to me, okay? What happened? Are you hurt, or—?”

“I—” A loud hiccup pierces through his sentence. Still, he claws away at the lump in his throat until it’s cleared enough for him to weep, “M– my boyfriend broke up with me. Five minutes ago.”

“Oh, Kie,” A-ma mumbles, her voice laden with the kind of sympathy only a mother could muster. “I’m so sorry, baby— what happened? Did he just leave, or–?” “He called.” Another hiccup, quieter this time. “I told him whatever he wanted to say, he could just say it over the phone.”

There’s a long pause—too long. “I shouldn’t have– but it…it would have hurt more if I had to look at him while he said it.”

Of course it would have hurt more. How could he have looked Elio—sweet, loving, caring Elio—in the face and listened to him say those words and pretended it was okay?

It would have been impossible.

“I can’t stay, Kie.”

“I know.”

“...I’ll call you. I promise.”

“I know.”

She had not known. Still, foolishly, selfishly—she had chosen to believe.

(Again, it wasn’t like she’d had much of a choice.)

A-ma is quiet. She knows Kie has more to say—how she knows, he’ll never understand. But he takes the opportunity to speak while it’s there; even if he’s barely getting the words out.

Her voice comes out meek—embarrassingly so. “A-ma, will—...will it be okay?”

He knows the answer.

He knows what A-ma tells her won’t be true.

He listens anyway.

“Of course, baby.”

And maybe that should have been enough.

Maybe she should have believed A-ma, then—believed that by some force of pure luck, by the sheer willpower that had carried her this far, it would somehow be okay. She would somehow be okay. It hurts now, hurts in a way she cannot hope to explain—but in her mind she knows that this hurt won’t last forever.

(Maybe he’d thought wrong about that too.)

“I don’t want to—” Kie starts, voice thick with unshed tears. By some miracle, with nails threatening to tear through soft sleeves and tear tracks bleeding into the corners of her mouth, she finds it in herself to continue. “I don’t want to miss him, A-ma. I– I loved him. I loved him so much and it wasn’t enough.”

A-ma hasn’t stopped whispering her comforts, voice a crackle through the tinny speakers of his phone. It soothes him, the way his A-ma’s presence always has—but the ache in his chest is making it so, so hard to breathe.

“I want to hate him,” Kie chokes out, a sob clogging up her throat again—louder, more insistent, demanding to be heard. “I want to hate him so fucking much. I– I wish I never met him!”

A-ma’s voice is tender, like a hug. “You don’t mean that, baby.”

Kie’s, in return, is tender like a bruise. “I wish I did.”

And maybe some part of him wishes he could hate Elio. Maybe some part of him wishes he could look at that stupid smile and those stupid eyes and the stupid curve of the knuckles lining his stupid fucking hands, and feel none of the staggering longing that crushes against his ribs like it’s trying to break them.

But Kie knows better than to rely on wishes.

“I thought—” she starts, mortified when her voice somehow splinters into several pieces, cramped within two little syllables. “I thought he loved me, A-ma, but– but he didn’t love me. He...he didn’t even like me.”

“He didn’t?”

“He called it off,” Kie continues, and all of a sudden the words feel like they won’t stop no matter how much he hiccups or sobs or tries to stop talking. “He’s the one who said it wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, that love wasn’t supposed to happen— that whatever I felt for him wasn’t supposed to happen– I told him I loved him and he told me— he told me to my face that someday I’d fucking move on—”

Doing her best to halt her words there, she heaves in a breath and tries to will away the piercing ache blooming near her temples. A-ma is quiet on the other end, but she’s listening. She’s always listened.

“I— I still love him, A-ma.”

The response, this time, is immediate.

“I know you do, baby.”

“But I don’t want to feel like this.”

“I know. It hurts, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine how heartbroken you must feel right now, Kie, and I am so sorry he did this to you.”

“He told me he didn’t care what happened last year. He said he’d stay– he’d stay with me, no matter what. He— he told me he loved me.”

“I know.”

“And I— I believed him.”

“That’s not your fault, baby.”

“Then why does it hurt so badly?”

“Because you still love him, Kie. Even if he doesn’t love you the way you love him.”

Another moment of silence. It doesn’t feel nearly as reverent as moments of silence usually do.

“...will I be okay, A-ma?”

“Someday, baby. Someday.”

Maybe, he thinks, that will be enough.

(Maybe, like all the other times, he’s thinking wrong.)

“I love you, A-ma.” “I love you too, Kie. Get some rest, okay?”

“I will. Goodnight.” “Sleep well, baby.”

The line goes dead. Kie kneels there next to her bed, surrounded by scattered sticky notes scrawled with at least a hundred little memories packed into the few study breaks she’d taken with him, and she does not cry because maybe if she can will away the tears, it’ll feel okay for as long as she can hold on.

(Maybe.)

[fcdcdmcmories]

"I... I'M SORRY, WHAT? ADOPTED? HE.. WHAT? HOW DID HE TAKE THAT? and above all, how.. how did you take that? that after everything he said and did, it.. was all for nothing?" when he thought that she couldn't surprise him more, this happened. the thought that finn pederson was adopted, out of all the people in the world? it was.. well, for a man that had always despised anyone did not share that last name? it was SOMETHING else. food for thought later, of course. "when is it not complicated? I HOPE I GET TO MEET HIM ONE DAY, THEN. SOUNDS LIKE QUITE THE REMARKABLE MAN." if anyone could change the cold-hearted monster that he had once known into someone different? someone that even cecilia seemed alright to speak about? that was ODD. "i do. i like it very much," her. was it obvious he was talking about her?

"YOU.. THINK YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'D BE SIGNING UP FOR? COMPLICATED WITH US HAS ALWAYS BEEN.. DIFFERENT THAN COMPLICATED FOR EVERYONE ELSE." his hand was locked in her own and he doubted that he would ever be able to let go of it now. it was bad of him. it was horrible of him and yet, how could he right now? she was... everything. grinning. "we're very dog friendly, thank you very much," making it clear that he too was joking. and looking relieved? of the fact that she wasn't seeing someone? maybe. "but.. you know what i meant. if you had someone that you'd want to bring.. that'd be.. okay. I MEAN.. IT WOULD BE.. OKAY?." did his expression show that he very much felt as if it was not okay? something like that, yes. he could be selfish and right now? he didn't want to see her with anyone else. not at all, no. "please. you'll never pay for anything here. as the very first person to believe in me back then? IT'S ON THE HOUSE." because she had been and as much as he had tried to forget that? to put it behind him? to let it go? it was always the truth.

"we could. it's just.." clearing his throat, as he looked down at his hands. "her name's tiffany. laney set us up a couple of weeks ago and she's pretty great, but i.. that's why i think something's wrong with me. she and i should make sense, but.. it doesn't feel like.. we do. i don't know. maybe it's my own messed up head. she's not.." she's not you. wasn't that the problem? what he had been about to say? not to mention that it felt as if laney liked that match more than he could ever and he had gone with it at first to make her happy and he had tried, he had, but.. it had been nothing, compared to this. "i could swing by, yeah. if.. you'd like that? bring dinner and all that? meet those famous ten dogs of yours?" god, what was he doing? saying yes to this? saying yes to all of this? but it felt right. it felt more right than anything that had happened in the past four months. for him. "you are loveable. the most loveable person i've ever met. IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE YOURSELF AS.. I'VE ALWAYS SEEN YOU." placing that lock of hair behind her ear felt so damn familiar and it felt like.. above all and first and foremost? it felt like coming home. so much it made his heart ache. "but you keep going. that's part of life? you.. yes, maybe some people let us down when all is said and done, but.. you also find the good ones. trust me. i know." shaking his head a little bit, with.. a whole damn world of sadness showing itself in his expression. right? "it's not that simple, cee. i wish it was. she pays for everything. evie works with her. she pays for gabi's school, for the restaurant, for everything they need - SHE TAKES CARES OF THEM. I COULDN'T.. I COULDN'T POSSIBLY DO ALL THAT." but it meant the world that she believed in him. that she believed that he could do this, when he himself did not and never had before. right? "i try, but.. truth is, she can do more for them than i can. it's just.." shaking his head immediately, parker found himself glancing up at her. "no, i couldn't.. i couldn't take your money, cee. not a chance. i'm already way over my head in debt with her and i'm slowly managing to pay her back, but if this happened? SHE WOULD.. SHE WOULD KNOW SOMETHING HAPPENED. she knows the money that i have and don't. she wouldn't rest until she got to the bottom of it and.. it'd get back to you. i don't want that. i don't want to cause you any trouble." and he appreciated what she was doing but that was the case. he didn't want to cause her any trouble and he didn't want to drag her into what was his MESS. right? "frodo hasn't been himself as of late either. he.. hm.. he doesn't really like it when laney cames around. usually, i have to keep him in my room. HE BARKS.. A LOT," strange that something like that happened? maybe, but still.. "but yes, maybe it will be good for them to.. see each other. winston and my boy. spend time together? IT'S A DATE." he realised what he had just said, clearing his throat a little bit. had he said it's a date instead of we'll see a date? for a second, his cheeks turned bright red, as he realised what had just HAPPENED. damn it.

"i wouldn't follow that asshole anywhere, unless it's to put him through a wall after what he did. but what.. you're acting like you've seen him again after that night. what did he do to you?" not realising that.. he was sitting up straighter at that? protectively? yes, he was. for some reason, the thoughts about that man left a bad taste in his mouth. that motherfucker. "no. no more of that. we'll never be in a room like that again, okay? i promise you. i'll keep you safe." he wrapped his arms tighter around her, pressing his chin against the top of her head. hoping that made her feel secure? hoping that made her see what he couldn't say out loud? maybe. "i'm not going anywhere. i'm right here." i love you. i've never stopped loving you. what he thought but what he couldn't say out loud? yes, that was precisely what that meant. he wrapped his arms around her waist again, pulling her closer to his chest. the kiss was frantic and desperate and loving and right now, it felt as if his heart was finally in the right place. he felt warm, he felt.. complete and that only made him kiss her more desperately. i want that, i do, but.. one step at a time? my heart is yours. it always has been. it always will be. everything was messy and he wasn't sure he trusted her completely, but.. that was the truth. he loved her. she was.. everything. he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, moving to unbutton her shirt with his free hand, not even thinking of pulling away or breaking the kiss. who cared about breathing? about anything? RIGHT NOW? ALL THAT MATTERED WAS HER. it seemed as if time had frozen and the world had disappeared and.. all that existed was this. them, in this tiny elevator, with him feeling more at home than he had in a long time. / @xtinyslip

"… it was a lie. a lie that not even he was aware of. my father? he was adopted, he was never actually born a pederson." he had a right to know because in a way it had shaped a lot of his years as much as it had shaped hers. hadn't it? he'd been right there with her, when her father had been making her life hell ; he had a right to know that basically… it had all been bollocks. "he was, is. it's rather complicated. not much of a surprise there, hm?" she smiled but it was evident her smile was full of sadness. no, she had never wanted to lose parker but her father having to lose will? all because he had been the one to constantly defend her? none of this should ever have happened.

"you like it?" but she clearly already knew the answer with how she was grinning back. the fact she was grinning, for whatever reason made her blush. perhaps, because it felt like she hadn't grinned genuinely like this since the last time she saw him alive. "that's a strong possibility but i'm not sure that there's a chance of ever changing that now, hm? i'm not sure we're a viable match for normal, those days are long behind us. normal is… boring. i could care less for it. i would rather have complicated with you than normal with anyone else." she didn't care for normal, it was a word she'd never practically known the meaning too. not really. she'd never experienced it. "bring someone? i'm not sure how appropriate it would be for me to show up with my ten dogs? is this place even dog friendly?" she did smile at him, she was being… playful. it was her way of telling him that there was no one like THAT. she had people, she wasn't completely alone but how could she ever love anyone else? "there would be eleven of us. i can pay." she chuckled, letting her thumb stroke over the top of his hand. in all seriousness, she wasn't about to show up there with all her dogs. no, hardly practical. "we could… we could do dinner? i'd like that? unless --" was there someone? not that she cared if there was. that might have been terrible but again, she didn't care. "i could tell you or you could come by sometime and see it for yourself? i could give you the not so grand tour?" the house she picked was nice, no doubts about it but it wasn't… it wasn't the level of fancy that anyone was expecting. "that's alright. you didn't know. i wasn't even aware you were here. this is --" well, IT WAS MEANT TO BE. was there any other way to describe it? "lovable? i'm sure you are the only one to describe me as that." when he placed that lock of hair behind her ear, she knew she was blushing again. it wasn't even the act, it was just because it was him, and so a simple act meant so much more just because it was him doing it.

"i'm not so sure about that. it's been rather… tough for me in that department but i would like to believe that it is." tough was an understatement. how many people had let her down? she didn't want to think about it. "i can, and i will. it's not what you think." she saw him glance to his hands, bringing her hand to gently hold his wrist and give it a reassuring squeeze. "lets them? are they not old enough to make that decision for themselves?" she was defensive but over him, and the fact that this was clearly some kind of fucked up power play ; one she used to know too well and she didn't want that hanging over him… or gabi. "take it from me, and i'd know. money isn't everything. i have seen how you are with gabi, i've seen it parker. i'm sure you're a fantastic father." cecilia instantly felt her body tense when he said that this had all been paid for by elaine, it meant that she could take it away with a snap of her fingers. she'd been in the restaurant once, she held no real attachment for it yet but clearly he did. "no," and it was a sharp no. "you don't owe that woman anything. i have the money, however much it is? tell me, you can have it and use it to pay her back. tell her you won big, i don't care as long as she knows it didn't come from me. i'm asking you to trust me, will you?" she was doing this to protect him, and the money was just sitting there. she didn't want it, she would rather have them both be alive and none of that happened, than have a penny of that money. "yes, i would like that and so would winston. he's been… struggling recently. i'm sure a new friend could be exactly what he needs. we'll set a date, hm?" no hesitation. was she using winston as an excuse to see parker? perhaps, but she was sure he wouldn't mind. well, maybe he would but she was sure he would have a nice time regardless. "if he ever approaches you? don't believe a word he says. call me, and do not go anywhere with him. parker, this is important." because she couldn't… she couldn't do that again. she let him embrace her, sinking into his embrace was the safest she had felt in months. she knew it was by how her breathing was beginning to calm, become less erratic than it had been. "this time it's you that lives." her voice was quiet, even with his hands on the side of her face but regardless of how quiet it was. she meant every word.

cecilia wasn't sure whether they could deepen this kiss any further, however, he proved her wrong and she was glad of that as the kiss deepened. "i love you." she wasn't even aware that she'd managed to say it through the kiss, she didn't even know she'd said it out loud but it didn't matter ; she meant it all the same. she'd pressed the emergency stop button, it would freeze until she pressed it again or until maintenance wizened on and brought the elevator manually to his floor. be mine? i'll do whatever it takes to be yours. the tears were because… this was overwhelming her senses but for once it was in a good way. for the first time since this had happened, she wasn't secretly drowning in grief and guilt. now she was drowning in him and she welcomed it, she welcomed this feeling. this time, this moment, this space was there's and she had every intention of making the most of this time as she could. her lips hadn't broken from his, she had no intention of them doing so either, only in the brief moments where they came up for air before it started again. bringing her free hand she started to undo the buttons on his shirt, squeezing his hand with the one that was still tangled in his. @fcdcdmcmories

[freebooter4ever]

dear mom, one day ill be living in a big old city and all youll ever be is mean :)