#sometimes one of them will pretend it isn’t true but it is it’s the very much mutually understood truth

[gojo-chan]

Fluff Alphabet with Wanderer

The title is pretty self explanatory, just a floofy sfw Alphabet for hat guy

Warnings: no nsfw, spoilers for Wanderer’s backstory and the Inazuma/Sumeru story quest, a little bit of angst but nothing too tragic, and Wanderer himself should be a warning (I didn’t sugarcoat his personality) so yeah that’s it

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He loves how understanding you are towards him. Even if he did some wrong things, you still accepted him and loved him. It took a long time for him to open up, but he never regretted doing so

B = Bonding (what's your favorite mutual bonding activity?)

Just spending time with you. He doesn’t care how, you decide if you want to, but just being by your side, reminding him that he is loved by someone makes him happy (not like he’d ever voice this out loud)

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

At the beginning of the relationship he’ll want to hold you, always being the big spoon. But as the time goes on, he’ll allow himself to be more vulnerable and let himself be held and cradled. He is very embarrassed about it, so it takes time for him to be this… exposed

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He enjoys peaceful dates wheter if it’s in the peace of your home or alone in a discrete area outside with a pretty scenery. Also don’t overdo it, it makes him feel uneasy, he prefers when they just happen, like an unintended moment of you loving each other

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Even as time passes, he keeps his snarky attitude but you’ll be able to see more and more of his true self. His moments of vulnerability can be random, like him holding you from behind, resting his forehead against your back. He’ll very rarely speak about his feelings but sometimes he can feel comfortable showing them to you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Absolutely not. He can’t seee himself as a father, he doesn’t think of himself as a good person and he certainly doesn’t feel fit to raise a pure and innocent being such as a child.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Pretends it wasn’t on purpose. He’ll just give you something and just be like “I don’t want it, here”. If you question him about it, he’ll turn his face the other way and just huff “If you don’t want it I can take it back”.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He likes feeling the warmth of your hands against his cold ones, it makes him feel some kind of way he can’t really describe. He doesn’t really enjoy hand holding in public but in intimate moments he really appreciates it. It’s probably the kind of physical affection he finds the easiest to initiate

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

He would be absolutely enraged if you were to get hurt. Who let this happen?! He will say harsh things to you, but don’t misinterpret them, he’s just worried.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He isn’t that much of a jokester but he really likes teasing you, especially if you get flustered easily. Though if you retort a smart answer, you’ll see him getting all annoyed and rolling his eyes he’s so flustered and bashful, how dare you turn his words against him like that

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Wanderer likes to catch you off guard with his kisses; you’re just enjoying the scenery? He’ll place a little peck on your lips, laughing at your surprised face. What he doesn’t admit, is that his favourite kisses are those you initiate, that are so soft and intimate, where he can just melt into your embrace.

L = Love Confession (how'd they confess to you? how'd you get together?)

It would take a while for you two to come together, he would be too cocky to admit having feelings for a. Especially since Wanderer is obviously above love right? Right?? You’ll notice it because he strangely would care about you.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

His favourite memory isn’t something most people would consider special like a first kiss or something like that. It’s just the memory of you letting him rest against your chest for the first time. How he felt safe and secure, and so so loved. How you didn’t judge him for being vulnerable around you

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He is afraid that you’ll realize how much of a bad person he is and hate him, judge him for it. He dreads the moment where you’re gonna understand how horrible he is and leave him

O = Obvious (how obvious do they make it that they like you?)

He thinks that he is discrete but anyone somewhat observant would notice how he cares about you, how he conceals his concerns about you in harsh words or how he looks at you a little longer than he should

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He usually just calls you by your name, I can’t imagine him calling you anything sweet, especially in front of others. Maybe some mean-ish nickname insults when he feels like it

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Quiet moments with you, silent, unspoken love is what he finds the best. He finds it difficult to show honest, pure, love so if he can just hold your hand while gazing at the stars to express it, he’ll be very grateful

R = Romance (how romantic are they?)

Wanderer likes to believe that he is above all that, or rather, it makes him feel awkward, so he doesn’t show much romantic emotions. When he does tho, it’s kind of funny because he’d feel embarrassed about himself, hiding his blushing face from you and grumbling what he wants to say

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He hates mentioning his past, so while you’re aware of it, it’s something he doesn’t mention or go into the details of. And if it does happen it’ll be somewhat random, like a quiet intimate moment where he’ll tell you something about his previous life experiences

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

You had to be patient, because Wanderer wasn’t the type of guy to get into a relationship easily. The process was slow, you had to worm your way into his heart, taking every step cautiously, waiting for him to open up

U = Unique (what makes them unique?)

As a person, Wanderer is very much unique as is, and the same could pretty much be said for relationships too. He’ll probably act disgruntled at every opportunity, but don’t worry, he’s secretly enjoying it

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? do they like to show you off?)

Wanderer is the type to get a little possessive if someone isn’t looking at you right. He’d just pull you against him and give the other person a cold stare, waiting until they back off

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? would they fight for you, beside you, etc)

If you aren’t strong, he’ll hate seeing you fight. Being as blunt as he is, he’ll tell you right away that you’re too weak and to retreat, letting him fight. However, if you are strong enough to keep up with him, he’ll gladly let you battle by his side

Masterlist

Also feel free to make any requests, even for characters I wouldn’t typically write for (though if I’m not feeling like doing a request I wont force myself) and reposts are appreciated!

[stompandhollar]

reminding everyone that the in-universe problem with The Doctor and The Master isn’t “ooo horrible nasty enemies who hate each other and don’t get along and fight all the time but are also in love”

the problem is that they get along. the problem is that they can’t stop themselves from falling naturally into a rhythm of riffing off one another and enjoying the other’s company. THAT is the problem. the problem is that it works and that’s the thing that caused all their issues. they like one another. they just click.

[bugpill]

If I see any more misinformation about Kamala Harris to dissuade people from voting I will explode.

1. She did a lot of work as a prosecutor to dismantle the system. When she was DA in San Francisco she was labeled as being “soft on crime” which she in turn claimed was “smart on crime”. Harris made a program called Back on Track so that low-level nonviolent drug offenders could enroll in school rather than doing jail time. She has believe and continues to believe that supporting people prevents crime far better than criminalizing people.

Yes, she put people behind bars. I know she called herself the “Top Cop” and I fucking hate that. However, the number of people who served time in jail was significantly reduced due to her program. She’s not a saint, but she tried to reduce harm as much as she could in her position. Since then, she’s called for even more action in terms of legalizing marijuana and I believe recently fully endorsed it publicly.

2. She is not transphobic. Harris backed the state of California when it tried to deny gender-affirmation surgery to a trans prisoner, but as attorney general, she could not deny the state’s Department of Corrections as a client of hers. Essentially, she had no say in the denial of surgery herself, as she had to represent the department’s interests over her own. Once she realized what they were doing, Harris actually worked behind the scenes to get that very policy changed so that any inmate who needs that care could get it. Additionally, she has lead efforts to put an end to gay and transgender “panic” defenses in criminal trials.

3. Kamala Harris is Black. For some reason, people like to say that she isn’t, and that she’s Indian and pretending to be black… for what reason? Depends on who’s telling the lie to begin with. Kamala Harris is Black and South Asian. Her father, Donald Harris, is a Black man who was born in Jamaica. Her mother, Shyamala Gopalan, was born in India. Speculating about her race with so much evidence towards the contrary is so wrong. If anyone tells you shit about this, just send them her whitehouse.gov biography.

4. Harris (reportedly) has different opinions than Biden on Palestine. Whether or not she makes a clear stance against Israel, I don’t know. That hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll remain hopeful until further notice. She reportedly tried to push Biden towards “a policy on Gaza that was both more humane and in alignment with international law” but wasn’t listened to. The only reason why this is one of my points is that I’ve seen a lot of people stating that she is totally behind every decision and stance Biden made as president, which isn’t necessarily true. I don’t want to give her credit for being pro-Palestine if she isn’t, just to be clear. That is not what I’m trying to do here.

I desperately want her to stand for a free Palestine. I cannot make the promise that this will happen. All I can hope for is that her policy will be less harmful than Trump’s- who wants Israel to “finish the job” and promises to “throw (pro-Palestinian protestors) out of the country”.

Conclusion: the fact of the matter is that people make shit up all of the time. Sometimes it’s propaganda they accidentally absorb, sometimes it’s deliberate misinformation. People often take rumors as facts, and we need to be more vigilant about it. What I know is that some people will do anything for you to not vote tor Kamala Harris, when in reality she’s our only hope here.

Is Harris my favorite person ever? Absolutely not. Does she share my exact views and opinions? Nope. Would I rather vote for someone who more aligns with my personal views? Yes.

Is voting for Harris the only way to stop Donald Trump and Project 2025? Yes.

Disclaimer for the blog: To be 100% transparent, this is only my (Fanya’s) opinions. Although this is a shared blog, I cannot claim that my stance and my voice speaks for everybody involved in this blog. Some members are not American. Some may have different takes. All I know is that all of us are anti-Trump. Don’t go after my friends if you have beef with what I’m saying. I’m trying my best here.

[hyewka]

᭄⁑　txt as yanderes | thoughts

warnings: yandere, noncon, baby trapping, mention of knife play, slapping, perversion, not proofread

yandere!jjun is the type to be too sweet, sickly sweet. like barfed cupcakes and sprinkles, he pretends to care, he love bombs, he kisses you like he truly loves you, like there’s no one else but you and maybe its true, maybe there is no one else but you in his eyes. but its not romantic. not when he has blood on his hands, figuratively or literally, he’s responsible for innocents lost.

“i didn’t lay a single hand on them, how many times do i have to tell you! doll, baby, believe me. please.” his voice cracks, like he’s about to cry. you scoff and turn your head to the side, disgusted, feeling like you could very much vomit right now.

“stop fucking calling me these—these words!”

yandere!jjun, the type to crumble to his knees and beg, holding onto your leg like an abandoned puppy despite having much more power than you, both in strength and status. lips trembling, eyes wide and crazed, full of pitiful tears, giving you a false reality, sense of hope that he isn’t that much more powerful than you could even imagine.

now yandere!soobin on the other hand is the type you don’t even realize is mentally out of it, not until you’re literally two years into a relationship with him with a stable history of 7+ year of friendship. he’s been jealous here and there, one instance of him breaking down over you having coffee with a male colleague that you had to craddle him, rocking back and forth as he sobs and hiccups— that keeps you up at night sometimes, but he’s so convincing you don’t even notice how often he manipulates and gaslights and manipulates. the way he slithers his long arms around your waist, pressing your bodies flush, holding you tight, whispering random “love you’s”, you almost completely forget. almost.

when yan!soobin’s fucking you senseless, lost in pleasure, tongue out dumb like the horndog he is, you manage to warn him again, “b-baby, not on—hah birth control”

don’t cum inside. don’t cum inside. you told him that before you got too into it, and he agreed, he promised he won’t. of course he won’t.

so why’s he shaking his head? why’s he refusing now? your eyes widen a little, trying to push him but he leans to kiss you, drowning out your protests, turning them to mere mewls. “baby—wanna—wanna make you have babies..”

the alarm bells ring again. and again. and suddenly you remember the few warnings from your friends, the offhanded comments about how he’s a little off, a little weird, that he seems obsessed.

“you won’t leave me when you have my babies, you can’t—” suckling on your nipples through your shirt as if to prove a point, he wets it completely, making it see through with his spit. you feel gross. you feel—“can’t leave me,” he says one last time, moans straining as he empties his load in you. a generous load.

yandere!beomgyu is my favorite in the most deranged way possible. he’s not too sweet, he’s not the meanest, and he isn’t the most pathetic, but he’s definitely the craziest. beomgyu would be the one to go as far as to lock you in his home, keep you chained, bondaged—he’s fucking insane. the type to be into knife play as well, he loves the switch in power dynamic. instead of the past bossy, in control at all times y/n and her pretty lanky best friend who’s probably “head over heels” for her, it’s you on your knees, cold hard wood, getting your throat brutally abused like his personal sex doll.

he loves finally being the one in control. he’s so addicted. sometimes it feels like he’s only inflicting his craziest perverted dreams on you, and you were just his nearest victim, but oh no, out of the five, he’s definitely the most ‘in love’.

“let me out…beomgyu…please.”

his back is pressed against the bedroom’s door, listening in to your sobs that barely transcend the sound proof walls. he sighs, frusteningly running a hand through his hair.

“why—why don’t you love me?”

and suddenly its silent on your part, the sobs not reaching his ears anymore. its enough to cause more cracks in his heart, making him undeniably more bitter but god forbid he gives up on it—on making you love him back, he’ll risk everything for it.

yandere!taehyun is the most cruel but he’d also be considered the least delusional and the most delusional at the same time. he knows you won’t love him back, he could care less (well…debatable actually), it’s about protecting you at the end of the day. that’s where the delusion comes in, he thinks he’s your white knight and you’re only acting out like you’ve always been. stubborn and hard headed. when it comes to the sex, this man has you at all times legs spread up, with your hand restricted, supplying your pussy like a free breed whore. other than the humiliating position, he makes sure you’re aware at all times of what you are to him.

his saliva and cum covering your body like filth, using you like a rag, truly. he’s the type to slap when you act out—a strike against your face, pussy, tits, he’d do it all. and yet he still wholeheartedly believes he’s protecting you from the world that “corrupted” you.

yandere!hyuka is beyond pathetic but you’ll never know because he doesn’t act on his desires. well, in the sense that he doesn’t scratch the eyes out of every one of your boyfriends and doesn’t have you tied to him at all times—he’s the pussy type. in the dark, following, each and every step. that was the beginning. then it was jerking off on your balcony peeking between the blinds as he watches you undress. then it was stealing panties, sniffing, licking, as his hands go manic on his poor dick—it hurts, it’s dry but he keeps going, because he is so fucking addicted he doesnt wanna stop. whining n’ squeaking as he lets out your name out of his mouth over and over and over again.

your scent when he hugs you drives him mad, when you kiss his cheeks he embarrassingly spots a boner, he’s just pathetic with horrible horrible dirty thoughts in his head.

[santsukii]

oh, how i love you (yandere! stellaron hunters)

cw: all characters separate, spoilers for penacony quest, violence, yandere, stalking, obsession

currently listening to -> shut up, we don’t care - syris

KAFKA •

her love is something violent and horrific hidden behind a pretty mask. she knows she’s a beautiful woman, but she’s already got such a large bounty over her head that it barely matters to her anymore. what’s just one more kill to bring you closer to her? she’s a traditional type of yandere, obsessing over even the smallest detail related to you, memorizing everything from the exact tone of your hair and skin to every single reaction you’ve had to everything she’s ever said or done. everything you like or dislike, she has it memorized. she’d send gifts to your location, though deranged in nature. she’d send you severed and bloody, half rotted limbs torn from her victims with hearts carved in them and your initials together. she knows she’s dangerous, as if the multiple guns and katana she keeps on her person at all times wasn’t enough of an indicator of that. anyone she wants erased from the equation will be gone in an instant, and she would only hesitate for a second to betray her comrades for your sake.

BLADE •

oh, bladie. oh dear, sweet, bladie. how can someone possibly be even more violent than kafka? well, blade doesn’t even try to hide it. he relishes the fact that you’re scared of him, half the time he smiles at all is the deranged giggle he lets out as blood splatters all over his body and clothes. it would clot in his long hair, and he wouldn’t even bother to wash it out until it begins to rot. he doesn’t want to gross you out, just to remind you that you belong to HIM. someone talks to you for even just a little too long, they’ll be gone before the end of the day. he doesn’t enjoy killing in front of you, he doesn’t want his poor baby to see how violent he can get, but he at the very least implies such violent acts of love and passion to you with the blood on him. he’s a stoic man, but he still manages to smile every time he ends another life out of passion for you. he can’t die, so it’s not like it matters if you try to fight back. he will always be back, and you just can’t run from him.

SILVER WOLF •

she chooses the stalker, parasocial route. seeing as she’s a hacker who just views life as a game, this is no different. how much of your affection can she win? how long until you block one of her accounts, and how long until she just begins to stalk you from another one instead? everything from your social media accounts to your damn search history, she has access to it all, so don’t try posting for help because she’ll just delete it. you don’t know how she does it, every time you deactivate an account and make a new one to make it harder for her to find you, she always does. she’s saved all the pictures you post, hell, she’s even made alternate personas just to talk to you sometimes. it’s creepy. she gave up the act of pretending she didn’t always want to see you on her timeline pretty quickly when she realized her obsession with you.

FIREFLY •

to die three deaths is nothing compared to seeing you with someone who isn’t her. never again would she allow herself to be far from you, always only feet behind you in crowds even if you didn’t see her. if someone dares even look at you the wrong way, they can say goodbye to their life in a matter of seconds. such a sweet and innocent girl, never failing to keep her darling close no matter the consequence. don’t you understand, it’s only because she adores you with all she has. her fellow stellaron hunters will simply excuse her actions, chalking it up to a show of affection. once she has you in her arms, she is NEVER letting go. even if she has to be forceful with it, anything for you. absolutely anything. she would never reveal her true identity as a mech-girl to you, because that would only complicate things. as far as you know, your girlfriend is the only one around anymore because all your loved ones seem to just disappear after you talk to them.

[hotshotsxyz]

i might be a little stupid (but it's okay, you are too)

(buddie) (1.2k words) i have nothing to say for myself idk

The way Maddie says it, it kind of sounds like she thinks it should be obvious. It’s not obvious. It’s not even true, actually, because if it’s true then Eddie has no idea what to do with it. And he can’t—Buck is the stability in his life. He’s the anchor, the foundation, the crossbeam that keeps the roof from collapsing in the wind. So it’s not true. He says as much to Maddie.

“You’re both—” Maddie cuts herself off with a frustrated noise. “I should have listened to Howie. You’re both impossible.”

Eddie shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, he’s not.”

Maddie sighs. “He is. He really, really is. And you—never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She blows a stray lock of hair out of her face.

And yeah, she shouldn’t have. Not because Eddie’s upset, but because it’s not true. Buck absolutely is not in love with him. He’d know. So it’s fine.

It’s fine until it isn’t, because a day later Buck is grinning at him like he hung the moon, and it’s so obvious that Eddie has no idea how he ever missed it. And he still doesn’t know what to do with it. But Maddie was right. Buck’s in love with him.

.

“Maddie, can you stop?”  Buck asks, nearly sloshing the wine out of his glass as he gestures. “It was funny, the first couple of times, but—”

“I wasn’t joking!” Maddie interrupts him. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Why are you like this?”

“Me!” Buck exclaims. “You’re the one insinuating things.”

Maddie blinks at him. “Buck. I’m not insinuating anything. I’m telling you. He’s in love with you.”

Buck throws his head back dramatically, knocking it into the cabinets. Ow. “Did Chimney put you up to this? Is this his idea of a prank, because—”

Maddie drops her head to the counter, burying her face in her arms. “No,” she says, muffled by the fabric of her sweater.

Buck rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says. Eddie isn’t in love with him, obviously. He’d know. So it’s fine.

.

Buck keeps looking at him. And that’s not abnormal, necessarily, but now that Eddie’s paying attention, he’s starting to notice it happens a lot. Buck, catching his eye when he walks into the room. Buck, glancing at him before he does anything at a scene. Buck, making eye contact any time he finds something funny. He’s just—always looking.

And it’s not like Eddie isn’t looking back. He is, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have noticed, but it’s different. Especially right now, because Buck’s very clearly watching him over the top of his book, but every time Eddie catches him at it, he goes right back to pretending to read.

It’s infuriating and endearing in equal turns.

.

Eddie is always there, Buck’s starting to realize. He’s at his elbow on every call, in the kitchen when he’s making coffee, in the bunks when he’s trying to sleep. That last one might just be because they’re mostly stuck with the same sleep schedule on shift, but still. He’s starting to think Maddie might be right.

Which isn’t a problem, necessarily, so much as it is an idea that feels almost impossible to wrap his head around. It’s just—it’s Eddie. Buck knows Eddie better than he knows himself. It’s kind of hard to believe he missed something this huge. But—

He gets this look in his eye, sometimes, one that Buck had only ever really categorized as warmth, but that he’s now realizing is reserved exclusively for him. So, okay. Eddie might be in love with him. Maybe.

.

They’re going to have to talk about it, obviously, so Eddie drags Buck home with him after shift. Not that it’s very hard. He kind of just tilts his head toward the truck and Buck follows him.

Buck’s eyes are on him the entire drive. He’s pretty proud of the restraint he shows, waiting until the front door closes behind them to start talking.

“So—”

“I’m—”

Buck huffs an amused breath. “You first,” he says.

Right. “Maddie said something,” Eddie blurts.

“Okay?” Buck says, drawing out both syllables.

“She said that you—” Eddie swallows, mouth suddenly, inexplicably dry. “She said you’re in love with me?” It comes out as a question.

Buck’s eyebrows climb higher on his forehead than Eddie thought was possible.

“And it’s fine,” Eddie says in a rush.

“She—”

“Seriously, Buck, I’m not like,” Eddie flaps his hand in place of an actual end to his sentence.

“Eddie, you—”

“No, really Buck, it’s—"

“She said you’re in love with me!” He exclaims.

Eddie’s brain short circuits, just a little bit. He hadn’t—he hadn’t actually considered that. At all. “She—what?”

“She said you’re in love with me, and honestly Eds, I think she might be right.”

“Since… when?” Eddie manages to get out.

Buck throws his arms in the air. “I don’t know, you tell me!”

“Maddie told you I’m… and you believed her?” Eddie asks.

“Not at first, but I mean,” Buck gestures vaguely.

They’re in Eddie’s house, but there’re traces of Buck everywhere. It’s his handwriting on the grocery list in the kitchen. He’s in half of the framed photos that adorn the walls. Buck’s sweatshirt is draped over the arm of the couch, and he isn’t the one who wore it last. Huh.

“So,” Buck says, looking at him expectantly, “are you?”

“Are you?” Eddie shoots back, borderline hysterical.

Buck opens his mouth and closes it. Blinks a few times. “I… am I?”

“I mean,” Eddie says, mirroring Buck’s earlier gesture.

Buck looks around and frowns. His brow furrows, and Eddie finds himself wanting to smooth it with his thumb. “Eddie,” Buck asks faintly, “are we stupid?”

It startles a laugh out of Eddie, and once he’s started, he can’t stop.

“It’s—it’s not—not funny,” Buck protests as he fails to suppress a giggle of his own.

“No,” Eddie gasps, bracing himself against Buck’s shoulder as he doubles over in laughter.

“St-stop,” Buck honest-to-god giggles. His fingers fist in Eddie’s shirt. “We have to—have to—” Whatever he was going to say, he can’t get the rest out.

Eventually, Eddie straightens enough to look Buck in the eye, and slowly catches his breath. All at once, he’s aware of how closely together they’re standing. “Buck,” he says, soft and warm and—

He can hear it in his own voice. He is. He is in love with Buck and it’s absurd, because how could he possibly have missed that? How could Maddie have known before he did?

“Eds,” Buck says. His fingers release the now-wrinkled fabric of his shirt, but his hands stay on Eddie’s waist. There’s a sparkle in Buck’s eyes that Eddie’s seen so many times, and not once before has he ever thought to examine why he’s so drawn to it.

“I think we’re a little stupid,” Eddie breathes.

.

“Told you,” Maddie says, watching Buck as he laces his fingers with Eddie’s.

Chimney snorts. “That you did,” he says. “They would’ve figured it out eventually. Probably.”

Maddie shakes her head. “I’ve never met two people who were so stubbornly opposed to their own happiness.”

“Eh,” Chimney says, “I think they were happy. They’re just happier now.”

Maddie laughs lightly and lets her head fall to Chimney’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she says. “They are.”

[shaunamilfman]

yellowjackets + affection headcanons

pairing: Shauna Shipman x r, Jackie Taylor x r, Lottie Matthews x r, Natalie Scatorccio x r note: seperatelyyyyy.

Shauna Shipman

very subtle demonstrations of affection. she’s definitely not a fan of over-the-top displays of PDA, preferring to express her feelings through her actions. show, don’t tell type.

does a lot of small things like making your favorite meal, leaving you little notes, and letting you pick what to watch even if it’s not your turn.

a lot of what she does isn’t especially romantic in nature, though it’s not to say that she doesn’t have her moment, but it’s always demonstrative that you’re special to her in some way or another.

very clingy, but not necessarily in public. she really likes to sit flush against you on the couch, the entirety of her side pressed against yours as she rests her head against yours. 

she’s a big fan of just laying together, even if you’re not necessarily intending on going to sleep. running her fingers across your skin absentmindedly as you lay together on the couch.

gives you compliments almost as if they’re an afterthought, but they’re always so sincere that you know she’s put actual thought into them even if she pretends otherwise.

drunk Shauna or jealous Shauna is all over you, though. she sees someone breathe in your direction and nearly jumps the couch to get over to you.

she’s so protective of you, even over the smallest things. imagined injustices are too much for her. tell her Nat was mean to you in a dream, and her ass is glaring at her the next time she sees her.

she’s always watching you in one way or another. sometimes it’s because she's being possessive, but she mostly just likes to know that you’re okay. any time you’re separated at the same event, you can relax knowing Shauna knows exactly where you are at any moment.

Shauna Shipman will not forget a date. she knows every milestone of your relationship and could list off the day they happened. she’s kind of cheating because her ass is going straight home and writing in her journal about it the day it happens, so she can always check back to the date.

Jackie Taylor

likes to make your life easier any way she can. unfortunately, Jackie’s ideas of what would make your life easier aren’t always exactly true. but she’s trying, and that’s the important part, right? sure, you spent twenty minutes trying to figure out how she reorganized your kitchen, but she did it with love.

queen of PDA. she’s all over you all the time. her ass will climb you like a tree in public. absolutely does not understand that there’s a time and a place for all that, but who would want her to?

always, always, always holding your hand. tries to pull your hand off the wheel at every single stoplight because it’s been sooooo long. kisses your cheek any time you’ve done anything that made her even the slightest bit happy, or also just because. she’s not picky.

no one on Earth will talk you up more than Jackie Taylor. she’s showering you with compliments, both to your face and to anyone who will listen to her talk about you. they’re all so genuine too.

plans the most complex dates you’ve ever seen. truthfully, they’re mostly for her own benefit, but you always have a good time anyway. she will expect to hear how impressed you were with whatever she planned out at length. she needs the reassurance.

so physically affectionate. hand-holding where she just plays with your fingers while watching TV. anytime you’re lying down, trust that Jackie will be climbing on top of you and staying there. falls asleep on top of you, and you’re stuck there till she wakes up.

listens very intently whenever you talk, but eventually her eyes always end up falling to your lips. she’s just a girl.

she’s so playfully mean to you. always gently poking fun at something you’re doing as she skips up next to you and presses the entirety of her body against your back.

so incredibly possessive. god forbid you even look in someone else's direction or it’s on. as much as she craves your attention on her all the time, it truly is just the way she cares for you.

quality time!!! your ass isn’t going anywhere.

Lottie Matthews

Lottie’s trying to get you lore dropping on the first date for sure. she’s very emotionally aware and enjoys the intimacy of sharing secrets and feelings between the two of you.

loves to take care of you. she hates when you’re sick but also loves to smother you in love and care whenever you are. definitely confesses it to you guiltily one day like it’s a grievous sin.

stocks her cabinets with things that you like. walking around the store with a little list of everything she’s ever seen you eat before you stay over for the first time.

forces the nastiest herbal teas on you for your "health.”.

gives you so many gifts. most of them are just small little trinkets that remind her of you, but they’re always so thoughtful in nature. remembers anything you’ve ever mentioned being interested in or looked at when out at shops.

the type to drop in while you’re studying all day with a snack because she knows you forgot to eat. pulling you out of your chair to get up and dance with her because you haven’t moved from your desk in four hours. pulling your headphones off your ears and dragging you to bed because you have to get up in six hours.

she’s so physical touch. Lottie’s always touching you in some way or another. just small touches mostly: brushes of her fingers across her arm as you walk past her, fingers intertwined as you walk around whatever market she’s dragged you to today, her thumb against your face as she rubs off the tiniest speck of dirt, brushing hair out of your face as you talk animatedly.

good luck getting Lottie’s head off of your shoulder. doesn’t matter if you’re standing or laying down. she’s zeroing in on it immediately.

Natalie Scatorrcio

not traditionally affectionate in the slightest. she’s very awkward with it at the best of times. epitome of like, “I dunno, you’re cool, or whatever,” while kicking the toe of her shoe against the dirt and avoiding eye contact. does not have any experience with giving or receiving affection at all.

she blushes to her ears at even the slightest hint of love or care once you get closer. girl does not know what to do with herself; she's so stressed.

it takes forever for Nat to tell you anything personal about her life. so when she finally does start talking that vulnerability is a major sign of her affection for you.

quality time where you sit together and do separate things. sitting on opposite sides of the couch while Nat keeps sneaking looks at you whenever she thinks you’re not paying attention.

she’s not great at comforting you while you’re upset, but she’ll always listen for as long as you want to talk about it.

so incredibly loyal and protective. she’s not even letting rightful criticism of you go. at least when other people say it. argues with someone for twenty minutes about something you did, but the second you’re alone she’s like, “that was so lame.”

she’s really physically affectionate in public, but not in the traditional sense. bumps your shoulders together a lot while giving you that crooked grin of hers, taps her foot against yours under the table, that sort of thing. in private, I think she would like more full-body contact stuff like cuddling than handholding or stuff of that nature.

Nat’s the type to drop you off at the front of the store when it’s raining while she parks the car. always walks on the curbside of the sidewalk so that car “hits her instead." always tries to open the door for you even when it’s inconvenient (think rushing around the car).

definitely the type to present you with pretty rocks she found and grins stupidly whenever she sees it sitting on a shelf at your place.

likes to try to fix things around your house.

[emo-batboy]

Okay what is this I keep hearing about Harvery Dent and Bruce Wayne being caught kissing???? Storytime?

Okay so this is probably a much longer winded story than I’m sure you expected but here’s my whole explanation of Harvey/Two-Face in the Battinson universe:

I always like to imagine that there is a distinct difference between Harvey and Two-Face. In this world, Harvey is regarded as an accomplished man suffering from DID who is forced to live in Arkham to keep his second personality, Two-Face, behind bars. Meanwhile, Two-Face is a notorious crime boss and master manipulator. They share the same body, yes, and it almost impossible to tell them apart sometimes, yes, but Bruce is the only person that can reliably tell who is in control.

You see, over the years, Two-Face has become an expert at pretending to be Harvey, so much so that the guards at Arkham just refer to them as Dent now. There have been several incidents where doctors believed Harvey was somehow cured of his DID and they gave him more privileges due to “good behavior,” only for Two-Face to bash a prison guard’s skull in while trying to escape.

But the one person he can’t fool is Bruce, the man who knows Harvey so intimately that he can examine his facial features down to the micro expression.

They thought they would get married one day, Bruce and Harvey. It was sickeningly sweet. They were so madly in love. Then the accident worsened Harvey’s condition. Bruce will never forgive Two-Face for taking his true love away from him.

Bruce visits Arkham once a week to see Harvey. Only the guards know about their past relationship because the two can’t stop giving one another heart eyes while they play chess and tell each other about their day. They’ll talk for hours, and it’s no secret that a pretty, Bambi-eyed, lovestruck Brucie Wayne will pay off any guard to see his “friend” for another fifteen minutes or so.

But sometimes, Bruce walks into the room, sees Dent’s face, and immediately storms out. Because it’s Two-Face. Posing as his former lover, wearing his lips and cheeks and nose, but the eyes are just wrong, all wrong, and he’s giving Bruce a smile that isn’t even close to Harvey’s gorgeous smile. And it’s sick. The guards can’t tell, the other patients prisoners can’t tell, no one else can tell but oh, Bruce can fucking tell.

On other days, Bruce will be talking with Harvey one second, only to stop mid-sentence, scowl at him, and say, “Give him back. I’m not talking to you.”

Two-Face breaks into a grin. “I can never pull one over on you, can I, sweetheart?”

“Shut the fuck up. Where is he?”

“He says he loves you, and you look very nice.”

Bruce has been held back by the guards several times for this very reason. He blames himself that they can’t hold hands during visits anymore. Instead, they talk through that stupid fucking glass, but at least they get a private room. The guards now know that even if pretty Brucie Wayne looks sweet and delicate when talking to Harvey, he can also throw a decent punch.

On good weeks, it’ll be nothing but soft words and smiles.

“I finally bought those chocolates you recommended,” Bruce says.

Harvey smiles. “Did you like them?”

“I did. Thank you.”

On bad weeks, Bruce will leave with hot tears streaming down his face, and the guards will treat Two-Face just a little harsher than necessary as they escort him back to his cell.

Sometimes, it’s a mix of both. Even rarer are the days when Harvey comes back right before Bruce leaves to say goodbye to his angel. Those moments are the most tender because they all know Harvey has trouble taking control back. But he did it for Bruce, just to make him smile again before they parted ways.

One day, however, a guard thinks he can flirt with Bruce. He makes a move when no one’s looking and receives an answer in the form of a black eye. Only a day later, he gets maimed by Dent and lands in the hospital. Bruce learns about it during his next visit.

“Your boyfriend’s other half tried to kill that guard last week,” another guard tells him.

“The one that grabbed my ass?”

“Two-Face put him in a coma.”

Bruce chuckles and picks at a loose thread from his dress shirt. “What you makes you so sure it was Two-Face?”

No guard tries making a move on Arkham’s favorite visitor again. And the star-crossed lovers keep seeing one another and confessing their undying love. Even after they accept their fate. Even when Bruce tells Harvey about Selina and how he’s slowly falling in love with her too. But something is holding him back.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Bruce whispers.

“I don’t either,” Harvey says, tracing his love’s hand through the bulletproof glass, “but I want you to be happy.”

“But I’m happy with you.” Bruce was always a crybaby, but he hates crying in here the most.

“You can be happy with me in here. But I can’t bear to be the reason you’re not happy out there.”

After a bit more convincing, Bruce finally agrees. Before beginning a new relationship, he tells Selina about him and Harvey, tells her that it’s non-negotiable, and she accepts it.

The next time Dent breaks out of Arkham, Selina gets a visitor. “Break his heart, and I’ll drown you in the pier,” he says.

Selina smiles as her hoard of cats purr against the stranger. Maybe they can tell just like Bruce can. Or maybe this is Two-Face doing Harvey a favor. Either way, she doesn’t particularly care.

Selina gives him a once-over and nods. “Likewise.”

Anyway, yes, that is my BruHarvey lore. Hope you enjoyed :)

@bruciemilf this is right up your alley, bestie

[belphiesreverie]

Hello! May I please request a platonic yandere Dottore? With a prodigy reader he came across at the Academia?

Take care!

Ofc, tysm for the request!! 🫶

TW: yandere behaviour, manipulation, Dottore himself is a warning tbh

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. He’s absolutely plotting on how to convince you to join him the moment he sees your talent

He’s incredibly charismatic when first approaching you, knowing just what to say to get you to trust him. To open up to him about your struggles at the academia and keeping up with the demand at the level your teachers expect from you

He plays the sympathetic, understanding role well; you truly feel like he gets what you’re going through, the struggles of being put on a pedestal and expected to out perform yourself over and over. He feels like a mentor you can trust, or maybe even close to an older brother

And that’s when he proposes that you come work on a project with him instead. You don’t need the academia, he’ll provide you with a job. It’ll be low stress, working with someone you think you know well, and in a field you’re most interested in

It feels too good to be true, but Dottore assures you his offer is real. Has he ever lied to you before? So you take the leap and leave the academia to work directly under him

Dottore thinks that for a prodigy, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes

At first, the job seems exactly as Dottore had described it and you settle in quite quickly. He seems like a very understanding boss, and still just as kind as he was before you began working under him

There are a few questionable things about his lab that you start to notice as you spend more time there however

The other workers refuse to talk to you, some even outright avoiding looking at you, and the ones that you attempt to talk to too many times seem to get… transferred to another part of the lab

Sometimes you feel like you can hear screaming coming from distant parts of the lab, but Dottore always assures you it’s just your imagination, or the pipes making a strange sound etc. He always has an excuse prepared, but they seem to convince you less and less each time

There are security cameras in the rooms, which makes sense, but they give you a feeling of unease. Whenever you look up at them, it feels as if they’re always pointing directly at you, following your every move

Originally, you’d felt like you could bring these issues up to Dottore, but for some reason it doesn’t seem like an option anymore. It’s not like he’s directly given you a reason to distrust him yet… but you’ve just started to feel uncomfortable in his presence. What once felt like a safe space now feels like it’s constricting and oppressive

Dottore is no idiot, he can tell you’re starting to pull away from him. But he isn’t concerned. He knew you’d start to notice things eventually, it’s not like he was ever planning on keeping anything hidden. He just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Oh, but you are quite the genius aren’t you

He’ll leave you be for now, let you stew in your paranoia… maybe even feed into it a little bit. It is quite amusing to watch you pretend to stay composed. But the moment you start to think of leaving, he’ll step in to keep you exactly where he wants you

His word alone won’t be enough to quell you at this point, he’ll have to think of something more… permanent. But it’ll be worth it. He can’t have his favourite little worker running off on him after all, he still has so much more use for that magnificent brain of yours

[sparkle-fiend]

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge. 

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live). 

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night." 

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.) 

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it." 

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!" 

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?" 

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it. 

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that. 

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside. 

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would. 

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.) 

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence. 

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet. 

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure). 

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan. 

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. 

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day." 

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead. 

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least." 

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps. 

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette. 

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool." 

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve. 

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly. 

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner. 

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin. 

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot." 

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping. 

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice. 

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff." 

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?" 

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts. 

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly. 

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie." 

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..." 

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?" 

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move." 

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on. 

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house. 

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?” 

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused. 

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv. 

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?" 

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him. 

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

[grapejuicebrat]

“Was it real or just for show?” TEASER

PAIRING: famous!harry x famous!y/n

SYNOPSIS: baby i just gotta know how long has this been going on?

NOTES: be nice english isn’t my first language and this is my first work! I personally recommend listening to this song while reading “How long” by Charlie Puth. If you have any thoughts or ideas, I'm waiting for you in the inbox. or just to talk because I'm bored. feel free to do whatever you want x

WARNINGS: smut but not really (maybe some hints, but nothing like that will happen cause i’m not in the right mood), swearing, flirting, kinda friends to enemies to lovers, kissing, harry and reader being stubborn. i think that’s all if you found something else comment please.

“Harry, how do you feel about miss Y/n?”

Harry already knew how to answer. In fact, it had been the first question asked at almost every interview Harry had attended for the past few months. Jeff always said it's good for PR because all the fans are sure you're dating. I mean, isn't it? You flirt with each other on social media, write comments to each other on Instagram and hint at some kind of relationship on Twitter. Sometimes it seemed to him that it was so. You're just playing the game, waiting for the other person to give in and confess their feelings. Harry remembers the first time he mentioned you in an interview talking about celebrity crushes. Fans literally went crazy when they heard your name. For another week, the Internet was buzzing with rumors that the famous singer was dating an actress Y/N.

Of course, he didn't mention your name for nothing. By this point, you've been talking for a few months, almost immediately starting flirting via text. Surprisingly, it never devolved into anything more than just sex jokes.

“I mean she’s an incredible actress, you know? Have you seen her new movie? It’s amazing. I already told her that I wouldn't mind playing with her in the remake of "The Notebook". Personally, I think that we would be perfect for the main roles.” he laughs.

“So we should wait to see your chemistry on screen, am I right?” asks the interviewer and Harry shrugs.

“We’ll see”

“Y/n, please tell us more about Mr. Styles”.

You laugh and playfully roll your eyes. It seems to you that you will never get tired of playing this game. You flirt with each other in public and in private when no one is looking. At the same time, you have never been caught by the paparazzi together somewhere in a restaurant or on vacation. In fact, it's because you never went anywhere together. Harry never asked you out and you didn't have the guts to even ask him out for coffee. You didn't have any contact that required you to play couple in public. Personally, you did it because it was fun. It's fun to read some news about yourself, where you are married or pregnant. It's fun to watch fan speculation that isn't true. It's fun to pretend you don't understand anything at an interview and talk in riddles.

“I have no idea who are you talking about”

“Oh come on! You do know who is Harry Styles. In his last interview he told us that he wants to do a movie with you”

“Ok, I'm just kidding. Harry is a cool actor and singer. He is very talented. Have you seen his latest movies? To be honest, I watched "My Policeman" three times. It's not every day you see Harry shirtless, you know. Therefore, I would also not mind playing in the same movie with Mr. Styles. If anyone is looking for actors for the main roles, give us a call!” you smiled, looking at the people in the hall. Apparently, many of them are fans of your couple, because when they heard the name Harry, they literally went crazy.

What you didn't know was that this innocent game of flirting would turn into a race of hate and love. Both of you will have to come face to face with your fears and anxieties. You will have to learn to live with mistakes and without people with whom you planned your old age. You will have to meet again someone who was once everything to you. And will you be able to say "Goodbye" again?

Patiently waiting for your thoughts

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Crushing!Jihoon

Fluff - Woozi x gn!reader

I have a crush on that boy, but what if he had a crush? 🤔

Word Count: 1k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────୨ৎ──── ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Jihoon cannot look you in the eyes. He usually is good about eye contact because he is very polite, but if he catches your eyes, he will quickly avert his gaze anywhere else. He still likes to talk to you, but he gets overwhelmed and lost in his thoughts if he’s looking straight into your eyes. Sometimes, he tries to look at your nose, so it will at least seem like he’s looking at you, but he still finds it too cute when you wrinkle it to laugh, so he ends up looking away anyway.

Jihoon rambles. A simple “Hello” will turn into him oversharing about his weekend, favorite show, or work. He cannot stop and your patient smile only encourages him to keep going. He eventually will realize and let a sentence trail off as his face turns red. He only stops being embarrassed when you reply with the same energy. You both end up yapping as much as possible, going from topic to topic almost randomly. Anyone listening in on the conversation would get lost because it’s like you have your own language together.

Jihoon can’t flirt. At all. It doesn’t come naturally to him. If he tries to be cute, he just gets embarrassed. He’s also afraid of being seen as a creep. You lightly flirt with him and he doesn’t notice. If you turn it up a little, he either misinterprets it or gets really awkward. He claims to be a direct person or the type to just be straight-forward and tell you, but, in reality, he will take his secret crush to the grave.

Literally everyone notices when Jihoon is crushing. He doesn’t realize how obvious he is when every other topic of conversation is you or what you like or what’s going on in your life. The other members joke about it quietly, but they make sure he doesn’t know or else it would end their favorite entertainment. They find it super fun to watch him get flustered around you then turn around like nothing happened. They even try to get him closer to you or leave you two alone together, just to eavesdrop or peek into the room to witness him freak out a little.

Jihoon writes a ton of love songs. They probably won’t see the light of day and some of them are just sentences in his notes app, but every beautiful melody he thinks of is inspired by you in some way (and some of the horny ones too). Fans would say that these types of songs were written with a pink glitter gel pen which is only true in vibes. He isn’t kicking his feet and writing in twirly handwriting, but his heart is whether he likes it or not.

Jihoon pretends to be nonchalant but remembers super specific things about you. Like, he’ll hand you your favorite obscure candy from your childhood that you told him about one time four months ago, and say something like “don’t make a big deal out of it” or “i just saw this and remembered”. In reality, it took him forever to find it and he wasn’t even sure if it was discontinued or not. He was about to look up a recipe for it to make it from scratch, but he found it, ordered it, then waited like a kid on Christmas for the package to arrive. He gives maximum effort for small details and pretends like it’s nothing.

It’s a lot easier to get Jihoon to open up than you think. He claims that he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his emotions when they are heavy, and he doesn’t always want to share his feelings so outwardly, but if you ask him like twice, he’ll tell you all about it. You can visibly see his shoulders un-tense when he tells you about his struggles. He trusts you and can’t keep anything from you. He’s also just bad at lying, so you can tell something is up with him almost immediately.

Jihoon doesn’t like physical touch BUT ONLY when he isn’t expecting it. He has to initiate the touching for it to be okay. You once tried to place your hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off instinctively. Later, he held onto your arm absent-mindedly. You learn to give him his space and wait for him to start anything physical. Once he does, you can reciprocate easily. He likes to put his arm behind you while sitting on the couch. You lean into him and he doesn’t flinch or move or anything. He touches you more often than anyone else which makes his crush on you so painfully obvious.

Jihoon has a Libra Venus in his astrology chart. From the moment he realized he liked you, he immediately envisioned your entire future together complete with four versions of a wedding, a life with kids, a life without kids, what your cat’s names would be, and every time he could tell the world that a song was dedicated to you. He thinks about different ways he could ask you on a date like he’s Doctor Strange looking into possible realities. It was easy for him to get a crush on you, and he can’t help but imagine it when he closes his eyes.

Jihoon is oblivious. You obviously like him and everyone can see it except for him. You always smile when he talks or laugh at his stupid jokes. You’re always caught up on his favorite anime (which you enjoy as well) just so that when he finally does watch them, you are ready to talk about it at a moment’s notice. You call him every night to make sure he’s wrapping up at work, and you offer to buy him food if he hasn’t eaten. You are one of the only reasons he takes a day off or goes outside to have fun when he’s not working. You’re always ready with a plan to hang out together. You want to be with him all the time. You stick to him like glue. And he just thinks that you're his really good friend. He can’t imagine that his crush likes him right back.

[yaksha-lover]

Hey! How are you doing? I don’t know how dark you’re willing to go, but the angst brainrot is back and I guess I just need somewhere to ramble.

Sometimes I like to think about how the prefect’s super chill reactions to… well everything, could just be a carefully crafted facade. I mean, the students at NRC are kinda awful people, and I don’t doubt any weakness would be swarmed like vultures to a fresh corpse. And a magicless, naive person like Yuu would be an extremely easy target. So, instead they just bury all the pain and pretend everything is okay. They’re not crying for their family and home late into the night.

The way that kind of repression would just build up over the year and slowly cause resentment towards everyone, deserved or not, is just delicious. Pretending to be everyone’s friend, to be the kind and welcoming prefect while coming to hate the other students’ guts. The eventual snap after one misplaced comment or one more mess to deal with, when the house of cards all falls down.

Maybe Rollo was right.

Idk, just got a lot of thoughts. Mainly based off of how Rook calls the prefect “Trickster” and the prologue almost framed Yuu in a strategist role. Thoughts?

Honestly, it would make a lot of sense. As much as we love the boys, most of them would be pretty terrible to be around and are very selfish and/or mean (with some exceptions, but that’s still a good majority of the school).

I like the idea that Yuu does start out genuinely wanting to help everyone and find people to be friends with, to try and make this experience of being trapped in another world even somewhat bearable.

At first it’s okay that Ace is a jerk sometimes, because he comes around once you get to know him. It’s fine that Riddle nitpicks and punishes the three of you because in the end, he’s trying his best to get better, to heal from his past. It’s alright that Leona is unrepentant and mean, because he has things he’s been dealing with, and you need to be understanding of his pain. Even when Azul tricks your friends and later you, when you almost lose your Ramshackle, the one place you’ve had to call home, you try to have patience, because he’s got his own issues as well, he has his reasons for things.

But somewhere along the way, you’ve stopped caring for their excuses. Their trauma is real, but so is yours. Even after everything you’ve done to try and help them, you don’t doubt for a moment that none of them would run to your rescue. That they wouldn’t take any opportunity to step on and over you if it meant getting closer to their goals. Because at the end of the day, none of them cared, no matter how much you wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

Breaking down isn’t an option - not when everyone is out for themselves, when your feelings would surely only be ridiculed at best and taken advantage of at worst. Even more than that, you’re a guest at this school. You never earned your way here like the other students and you’re magicless; the only reason you’re even here are extenuating circumstances. The headmage isn’t any more loyal than the housewardens - if any of them had a problem with you, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine he’d throw you out onto the street the second you became an inconvenience that was too much work to handle. So you keep quiet, even when all you want is to tell off everyone around you.

The only housewarden to ever seem to really give a damn about you is Vil, but by the time you get close with him, it’s already too late. Maybe if you met him first, if you’d been less scorned, you could’ve forgiven his little digs at your lacklustre presence and imperfection. He’d done much to try and make up for it after all, helping you out with Ramshackle and voicing his appreciation for you. It was more than you could say for anyone else, but it still isn’t enough. Vil’s sweetness can’t counteract the bitter taste that’s been brewing for months, so you can’t bring yourself to forgive him despite everything.

It’s not his fault, but it’s never anyone’s fault. It’s all of them, chipping away at your sanity little by little.

It’s okay that you can never fall asleep anymore, kept awake by memories of never ending fights and catastrophes to deal with. It’s okay that the same people you’ve helped barely regard you as more than something worth pitying. It’s okay that you’re reminded every day that no effort is being put towards getting you away from this hellhole and back home.

It’s all okay, until it’s not. Until Yuu finally reaches their breaking point, and starts to question if anyone is truly worth saving at this school.

[sundayworshipper]

*~Orthodoxia

«Sunday x Gn! Reader»

🪦| SFW, Angst, Undefined relationship, can be read as romantic/platonic (bed sharing, cuddling)| WC: ~11K

⚰️| CW: Inspired by the song Orthodoxia by Guchiry, misplaced religious worship (fictional religion), Sunday is a priest and cult leader, Small town cult setting AU, Third person prose (reader is referred to as [Name]), Major character death, Minor character death, Murder, SH? (Sunday), Allusion to suicide, Graphic descriptions of violence, Non sexual grooming, A bird dies, Ena=God, Gopher sucks ASS, mostly Sunday angst with reader being there sometimes, English isn’t my first language, non chronological, first fic ever （╹◡╹）

Credit for the commandments to Guchiry

A/N: This is so long 💀.. There’s a few plot holes? and the writing is kinda repetitive but i spent too long on this not to post. Extra warnings, beta read but not proofread, reader char is intentionally bland, not canon compliant/OOC-ish ∩^ω^∩.

EDIT: Oh god this got much more attention than I was expecting. I am (slowly) working on rewriting it 🤍

1. God’s great grace is given to those who are completely faithful.

Sunday inhaled deeply while tugging at his pristine white glove in an attempt of straightening it. In his mind, he looked like a complete mess, completely unfit for a High Priest. His Master and founder of the One True Religion, Gopher Wood, had recently taken his last breath, finally succumbing to the horrible illness that had tormented him for years. As his adopted son, the gray-haired halovian was to take on his duties post-haste. The young man only took half a day to compose himself enough to make a public statement. He probably would have taken longer, had he actually cared to pretend to grieve.

Upon deciding he was satisfied with the state of his attire, Sunday stepped out of the sascrity, taking his place at the pulpit. The gazes of all of his Master’s- no, his own followers, locked onto him, confused and impatient to hear the reason for Mr. Wood’s absence at yesterday’s service.

The man smiled, hoping that the way it didn’t reach his eyes wasn’t very obvious. After a few moments, he just decided to close them.

The fear of rejection by his followers felt as if it was rapidly piercing holes trough his insides, however, he knew that THEY wouldn’t fail him when he needed THEM most. After all, the first ever thing taught to those interested in the religion, is that good things come to those who believe.

2. Only the high priest is permitted to take God's name in vain.

“Fuck! God fucking damn it!” An unfamiliar voice screamed from an alleyway, which Sunday was just about to pass while on his routine walk. His wings twitched, and the ones on his torso tensed. He contemplated if this even counted as a violation of the second commandment, as the use of the words ‘God’ and ‘Lord’ had less restrictions than the uttering of the true name of the one they were referring to. He also thought about the possibility that ‘God’ was the three-faced idol the next town over worshipped, that maybe one of them had snuck in. He ultimately decided that using any heavenly title accompanied by such words was disrespectful, and he’d try to steer the speaker onto the right path, be they a follower of Order, Harmony, or something else entirely.

Despite the amount of information he mulled over, he really didn’t spend long thinking before rushing into the alley.

“Are you alright?” He inquired to the person that had emitted such obscene words just moments ago. Their clothes didn’t reflect those of a citizen in this town, nor the neighboring one’s. They whipped around to face him, wearing a frightened expression.

“Ah..Huh?” The emotion of surprise seemed to overshadow that of fear. Sunday gave an amused smile at this.

“Do not be afraid. I am Sunday, messenger of Ena. I heard you…Cussing, earlier. Judging by your attire, you are a foreigner, which explains that. However, I feel as if I should inform you that such an act is quite worrisome here.” He could no longer suppress his giggle, which confused the stranger.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm..Do not worry. Mind telling me how to address you? And, if you’re comfortable, what brings you here?” Sunday stepped closer, and leaned in towards the person.

“I’m [Name].” They replied, taking a step back. After spending a moment deciding whether or not to reveal the circumstances that led up to them ending up where they did, they concluded that he was trustworthy.

Sunday listened, and considered their words carefully.

“I see. Since you have no home, would you like to live with me, for the time being? I’ll help you find a job. All I ask is that you attend church and clean up after yourself.” He offered his hand, wings relaxing.

[Name]’s breath hitched. It wasn’t like they had many choices… If they stayed on the streets, they’d most certainly die. If they went with Sunday, the outcome had a slightly lesser chance of being the same.

After thinking very carefully, they took Sunday’s hand wordlessly.

3. Those who do harm to God's messenger, the high priest, will be expelled.

As much as Sunday wished he could forget the worshippers of Xipe existed, trade between the two towns was beneficial for everyone. After the death of Gopher Wood- who refused any sort of contact and terminated the transaction of goods-, Sunday begrudgingly sent one of his trustworthy followers to request that the old commerce deal be reinstated. And so, it was.

To the average citizen, all seemed well. However, Sunday could notice the way everyone that interacted with Xipe’s Worshippers on a regular basis attended church less and less often. He tried to brush it off as them being busy with such an important new task. This was until, on the seventh day’s service, the holiest of all, one of the traders defied the rules and interrupted Sunday’s sermon by standing directly next to him. The halovian’s heart skipped a beat, but he simply smiled.

“Good sir, are you not feeling well? This is not an appropriate place for you.” He placed a gentle hand on the trader’s shoulder. His kind act was met with a harsh slap which resounded through the entire chamber. However, his smile did not falter.

[Name], who had been sitting in the front row of pews ever since Sunday ‘rescued’ them, stood up, as did the woman next to them. They wanted to separate the two, but the priest extended a hand towards them as a sign to stop.

The atmosphere was painfully tense and uncertain, until the merchant reached into his pocket to retrieve his dagger. He then pressed it to Sunday’s throat, finally causing his expression to shift.

“You bastard… You rotten, filthy, deceptive scoundrel! You lied! All you and your good-for-nothing father have ever done is lie! You will pay for this.” The trader hissed, preparing to slice the man’s flesh. Sunday’s eyes narrowed as he effortlessly ripped the knife from his hands by the blade, cutting deep into his own palm. He then tossed it to the side, and grabbed the traitor by the neck.

“Tsk..What a shame. You were quite valuable.” He shook his head disappointedly before dragging him outside.

No one dared to follow… Except for [Name]. Before anyone could tell them not to, they sprinted after Sunday, finding him kicking his attacker in the stomach repeatedly just outside church doors. [Name] gasped, but they were cut off by the disgusting feeling of bile rising up their throat. This caused Sunday to turn his head. His eyes were wide, however, a disturbingly sweet smile stretched across his features. He delivered one final kick- to the chest this time- and quickly closed most of the distance between him and [Name].

“You shouldn’t have followed me. But, I suppose it’s my fault for not teaching you what to do in such situations.. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

[Name]’s eyes darted between the priest and the corpse he had just created. They soon murmured the first thought they could muster:

“Your hand..”

“I will be fine. Go back inside, and stay put. Service will resume shortly.” He smiled before promptly walking out of sight.

[Name] considered running for their life as far away from this town as geography would allow. However, something was holding them back. After taking a minute to process, they re-entered the church, earning dirty looks from the other members. Only the woman that had stood up alongside them earlier spoke to them.

“Don’t do that. No one wants to see what happens to those who get ‘expelled’.”

4. It is the high priest who is the rightful successor to God’s will.

Despite it not feeling like such, Sunday was once a child. He had a family as well, more or less. Although thinking of Gopher Wood as his parent made him feel sick to his stomach now, a brief period of time where this wasn’t the case existed.

After the traumatic loss of their parents, Sunday and his dear sister, Robin, were sent to an orphanage much like any other unfortunate soul in the same situation. Robin thought they’d be adopted within the year, but Sunday was already planning the way in which he’d make a living for himself the moment he became an adult. He’d save up any and all money he didn’t use strictly on survival to be able to sustain his sister when she reached the age of eighteen as well, he thought.

In a surprising turn of events, a man from a small, far away town, visited the orphanage only three months after the siblings’ arrival. He smiled the instant his gaze landed on them. Originally, Sunday thought it was because of their shared, relatively uncommon species, but he’d later come to convince himself that Gopher Wood saw something in them that day.

In what had to be record time, he had legally adopted them. As they rode the horse carriage to their new home, Robin snuggled close to her brother, and whispered an optimistic ‘I told you so’. Sunday simply smiled, for the first time since the death of their mother.

The first day felt like the most fun a recently orphaned child could have. They were given various sweet treats by their new neighbors, and a tour of the town. Everyone seemed to dote on them, which almost made the young boy finally lower his guard fully. He thought he was safe at last, and could heal.

Big mistake.

That very night, Sunday was ripped from bed by his eerily silent ‘father’. Before he could even ask what he was doing, a hand had been slapped over his mouth. He, being docile and untrained at the time, allowed himself to be molded like clay.

In less than an hour, Sunday had been exposed to things that would shatter the mind of most children into pieces. At the end of his extensive explanation, Gopher took Sunday to the dark, empty church, where he forced him to kneel in front of the altar. Because he hadn’t succumbed to the information that he had to forcibly ingest, Gopher considered him a worthy heir, and introduced him to Ena as such.

And yet, that was not the point where he stopped seeing that man as family. In fact, he never saw anything wrong with that behavior. He always felt so proud to be chosen, entrusted with such an important position.. Gopher said he was special. Smart. Nearly perfect. He was everything he could’ve ever wanted in a son. The knowing glances they exchanged as Robin discovered the surface rules of the religion at the pace that everyone else except for him did made Sunday feel good.

For about a year, Sunday loved his life. He felt as if he finally had a purpose..

On the night of a seventh,going into first day of the week, in the latter half of November, Sunday found himself choking back tears on the bathroom floor, knees hugged tightly to his chest along with his discarded shirt. Gopher Wood, that monster, sat behind him, trimming away at the child’s lower wings. When he was done, he’d move on to permanently tainting them black, like his own.

‘The truest act of devotion’ he called it. To prove their loyalty to Ena, high priests had to discard something they held dear at a young age.. For halovians, their wings were naturally their pride and joy, so, the dark haired man picked those for him. Sunday asked to be allowed to choose something, anything else, but his request was declined.

Of course, this wasn’t any form of religious practice. Gopher had made it up to further mold his poor victim into what he needed him to be. Every time the boy dared to show any feelings regarding that action, he reminded him that as the high priest, all his actions were carried out trough God’s will.

Sunday never wore a base layer of clothing that didn’t almost perfectly match his new wing color after that. He felt hideous, and he’d rather have people think he lost his wings completely than show off the cruel defilement he’d endured.

Since then, Sunday could no longer see him as a father. Of course, he still respected and obeyed him, as not doing so would be disrespectful to THEM, too. After all, priests were naught but a mirror of their God’s desires.

5. God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world.

Sunday tossed in bed, wings wrapping around his face as he groaned quietly. He was tormented by thought, and couldn’t sleep.

Upon the passage of one hour, he rose from his spot, and slowly stepped out of his room. [Name] slumbered on his couch, as they had since the first time Sunday brought them home. He felt bad for not being able to provide them a proper bed, and made a mental note to work on that soon. After all, it wasn’t like it cost much, or… anything at all. He was just a very busy man.

The priest then stepped on the single creaky floorboard in the entire house, alerting his roommate.

“Sunday..?” They yawned, rubbing their eyes as they blinked them open.

“Ah. I’m sorry that I woke you.”

“It’s alright,, but what are you doing up so late? And why are you going out?”

“Mm. I need a walk, to clear my head. I’m finding it hard to rest well tonight.”

“Me too. I barely even fell asleep a few minutes ago, and it was so light.” [Name] stretched their back as they spoke.

“I see. Do you want to join me?” He offered, and the other person excitedly accepted, standing up and almost stumbling. Sunday caught them, helping them to stand better. They gave a grateful look in response.

The two then exited the house, the cold night breeze gently biting at their skin. They set a comfortable pace as Sunday directed them to the woods across the river that served as town border. [Name] hadn’t gotten the chance to go there yet, as it was ill-advised to venture too far from the town.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m going to murder you for your sins?” Sunday smiled, turning his face away so [Name] couldn’t see.

“I do! It’s just that… Wait, have I sinned?”

“Of course you have. You are still new to our religion, you’re bound to make mistakes. Even devout believers sin sometimes, but God forgives all, therefore so do I.”

“Do you sin?”

“Me? No. Sinning would be disgraceful to our Lord. I mean, if even the high priest doesn’t carry himself as THEY intended, how would any normal person be inclined to either?”

“True.. Doesn’t it get exhausting having to be perfect all the time, though?”

“Not at all. Do you know the fifth commandment?”

“God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world?” [Name] cocked their head at him, almost tripping on a fallen branch in the process.

“Very good. As the high priest, I have to know these teachings better than any other mortal. The stronger one’s knowledge, the stronger they feel God’s love.”

“Oh. I never thought about it like that.”

“Well, now you have.” He halted, left arm occupying its spot behind his back as usual. [Name] stopped as well, confused.

“Why’d you stop? Aren’t walks supposed to be continuous?”

“Yes…Would you mind pausing here for a moment? If I’m not mistaken, this is the clearing I used to come to for respite when I was a child. I have no time for such things anymore, but it brings me a sense of nostalgia.”

[Name] nodded, and awkwardly walked closer to Sunday. There didn’t appear to be any sitting spots, so they just took a moment to appreciate nature’s beauty.

Not much time later, Sunday decided it had gotten far too late to be outside any longer. As they trekked back home, the priest noticed [Name] become slower by the second. He offered to carry them, and in a moment of exhausted weakness, they accepted. They’d soon fall unconscious in his arms.

The following morning, [Name]’d find themselves in Sunday’s bed, with him nowhere to be found.

Confused, they stepped into the living room. Sure enough, the man was curled up on the couch.

6. To disobey God is to deviate from Paradise.

[Name] was integrating nicely into the town already. While trying to decide what job they should try land, they picked up gardening as a short pastime. Sunday had graciously lent them a patch of his backyard to plant things in, so long as they managed to keep it free of weeds. They agreed, and were doing a great job so far. The first thing they tried was strawberries, as it was the optimal season for planting them.

[Name] decided to ask the neighbors to see if anyone had any runners they could borrow.

“Hello!” They waved at an older lady who was conveniently planting something in her own garden. She lifted her head, smiled, and waved back.

“…Ahem. I was wondering if you had any strawberry runners? I want to grow strawberries… I don’t have any money right now, but I’ll pay you for them someday!”

“Ah, such nonsense.. Since Mr. Wood saved us, money is obsolete.”

“Huh? Then why do people still have jobs?”

“So they don’t get bored, of course! If you’re worried about payment, pay with a favor. Give some to Mr. Sunday when they’re ripe. I’m sure he hasn’t had strawberries since Miss Robin… Ah, nevermind, I’ll fetch ‘em for you.” The lady hobbled into her house, leaving [Name] confused. They made a mental note to ask Sunday about this ‘Robin’ someday.

The woman soon returned, and handed the runners to [Name], eagerly.

“Here you go, dearie. Give some to me too, if I’m still around by then…” she chuckled, trailing off into a cough.

“Don’t say that.. But, I will! Thanks so much!” They waved again, and sped off to plant the strawberries.

About three months later, the fruits were ripe. [Name] was utterly delighted… They looked absolutely perfect, as if it was obvious from a glance that they had the perfect texture and amount of juice. They quickly collected them all in a basket, and ran inside, where Sunday was actually home, for once. [Name] was happy about this, and hurried to separate the basket’s contents into bowls. The priest tilted his head at them, curious.

“I see you’ve made good use of the land I gave to you.” He hummed observantly.

“Mhm! I couldn’t have done it without the grandma across the street, though. I have to give her a portion back, but.. She asked for something else as payment.”

“Oh?”

[Name] handed Sunday a full bowl, happily.

“She wanted me to give this to you! She said you probably haven’t eaten any since some Robin something something..”

Sunday froze, and his breathing paused abruptly.

“Who’s Robin anyway? It sounds like you know her…”

“Robin is a sinner who denied our Lord’s presence in her life. She is where she deserves to be right now.” His voice had a weird edge, almost as if it was breaking.

“She’s not someone you should concern yourself with again. Ahem; thank you for the gift. It was very thoughtful of you. Send my regards to the neighbor, too.” He left, strawberry bowl in hand.

[Name] frowned, dejectedly dragging themselves and one of the remaining strawberry bowls to the neighbor’s house. She was in the yard once again, so they just walked up to her.

“Ma’am! I picked the strawberries today!” They handed her the dish.

“Thank you, dear. You gave them to Mr. Sunday too, yes?”

“Of course. He said to give you his regards. But, something weird happened. When I asked him about Robin, he just said she was a sinner. That wasn’t much of an answer, so could you tell me more, please?”

“Really? Hm. I wouldn’t expect him to be that cold towards the memory of his own sister…”

“…What?”

“I’ve said too much. Please leave.”

[Name] frowned, but did as asked. It was taking them some time to accept the fact that there were certain topics everyone seemed to get tense around..

7. To harbor doubts about God is to suffer the disintegration of thought.

Gopher Wood always despised the neighboring town, in which he was born, raised, and first established his religion. He hated not having control over every single atom there, so, he left. However, he wasn’t always completely unwilling to maintain a cordial relationship with them.

When his daughter, Robin, reached the age of twelve, he assigned her the role of ‘peacekeeper’. She was to befriend politicians and people of note, engage in the culture there. and report any intel she could’ve gained back to Gopher, who would then try to usurp the town and convert its residents to worshippers of Ena, ergo himself, by commandment fourteen.

By her 13th birthday, Robin’s reports suspiciously all turned into ‘They didn’t tell me anything’. The high priest soon grew skeptical, and ordered Sunday to get an answer out of her by any means necessary.

And so, he did.

He approached her door, taking note of the unfamiliar tune she appeared to be loudly humming. Due to growing older, they now had separate rooms. This didn’t help their relationship whatsoever, as their paths in life were already pulling them apart.

“Sister?” He knocked.

“Come in!” She called out, ceasing her singing. Sunday did, avoiding her gaze.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Sit down.” She gestured to the empty spot on her bed, next to herself. Sunday shook his head, which felt like a dagger being pierced trough robin’s heart.

“Oh. Okay… What did you want to talk about?”

“Master ranted to me earlier about the lack of new information regarding the neighboring town lately. I found this weird, so I just wanted to ask you about it. Please be honest with me, are you hiding something?”

Robin’s eyes widened, before drifting downward. She dipped her head in a slight nod.

“Brother… I’m sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but I feared your response. I..” she inhaled, then exhaled. “…I worship the Harmony.”

Sunday stared at her with the most disgust his face had ever held. He began to slowly shake his head.

Robin stood, paced over to him, and grabbed his hand, holding it close to her chest.

“Please, just listen to me. I discovered something that will change your view on-“ She trailed off as she met his gaze. It was evident that there was no possible way to reason with him. At that moment, it didn’t feel like she was even looking at her sibling; but rather, at the man that destroyed him.

Defeated, she let go of his hand, and sat back on her mattress. As she watched her beloved brother leave her room, she accepted that her days were now numbered.

8. To blaspheme God is to deny one's own existence.

Robin wore a gentle smile as she was walked down the path to a completely empty plain by her brother. The girl was dressed in pitch black robes, a symbol of her betrayal and a way to make her death far more painful. And yet, she didn’t seem all that bothered.

“Sunday..” she hummed.

“You’re not supposed to speak.”

“I’ll be dead soon either way. What’s one more sin?”

“…”

“I love you. Please don’t blame yourself, I forgive you.”

Sunday didn’t reply to this, and pushed her towards her final resting place.

“Press your back to the stake, please.”

Robin obliged, placing her hands behind the wooden pole as well, without even having to be told. Sunday, under the watchful gaze of Gopher Wood, tied them together, then her torso to the stake.

A citizen then dumped the wood Gopher had hand picked the day prior as the fire fuel to Robin’s feet, before backing up. As per the high priest’s request, Sunday was to light it.

The heir felt nothingness rip and tear away at his being. As his Master placed a flaming torch in his hand, Sunday thought about all the things he wanted to do right now. He wanted to cry, but that would be ‘disgraceful’. He wanted to grab his sister and run, far away from here, and start a new life together, but they were just children, with a horde of angry, violent adults behind them. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream in despair, but the raven-like man behind him would definitely punish him severely for that. As his legs trembled, threatening to give out, Sunday wondered what the worst consequence could even be. Upon remembering the ruined state his wings were in and that he had another pair in an incredibly visible location, he took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” He mouthed, before pressing the torch’s tip to the firewood.

9. God sees, but THEY never save.

Sunday inhaled deeply, eyes shut. The winter air numbed his lungs, allowing the cold to overwhelm his body. He felt no pain, or any physical sensation at all. He simply felt like pure consciousness.

“Brother!” The worried voice of his sister called out to him. Alarmed, he exhaled, and ended his meditative state.

“What is it?” He questioned, tone unusually flat.

Robin held her hands out to him. They contained a baby dove. It was barely even covered in pin feathers, meaning it couldn’t have been more than seven days old.

“I was walking to Mr. Gary’s farm because I promised to help feed his animals, but i found this hatchling crying by a tree… I can’t find its nest, or parents, b-but it’ll freeze to death if we don’t do something!” She sobbed. Sunday examined the tiny avian closely.

“Yes…I do suppose the best course of action would be to raise it ourselves.” He crossed his arms.

“Why do you sound so hesitant..?”

Sunday was worried about what his Master would do upon discovering the animal. He wondered if its wings would be clipped, like his own were. The boy pressed a hand to his mouth in thought, eventually settling on the conclusion that there would be no reason to commit such act, as it was only done to himself so he could prove his worth to Ena.

“Fine. Give it to me.” He demanded, and the girl obliged.

The siblings rushed back home, where Robin filled a shallow bowl with warm water. Sunday placed the chick in it, but held on, just in case. It let out chirps of increasing volume, which the boy found endearing. He soon let go, stroking under the bird’s chin instead. Robin gasped, and leaned in closer to observe this. Her brother interacting with animals was a truly beautiful sight.

“How long will it take until it’s grown? I can’t wait to teach it how to fly!” She smiled widely, blinking up at Sunday.

“Huh? Why would we do that..?” He raised an eyebrow.

“So we can release it?” Robin now looked confused.

“What? You can’t be serious. What even is the point of saving it now if you just want to send it to die later?” He pulled the bowl closer to himself, protectively.

“It won’t die! It’d just be cruel to keep it inside for the rest of its life!” She argued, straightening her posture.

“It will.”

“No, it won’t!” The girl gripped the edge of the table. Sunday pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned his back to her.

“Fine. If you insist, you’re now responsible for its well-being until the end of the next week, when you must release it into the wild.”

“Fine.” Robin huffed, and pulled the bird and its makeshift bath back towards herself.

Seven more days passed, in which the dove grew out all the needed feathers for flight. Robin was absolutely ecstatic, and dragged Sunday outside.

“Okay..How do we do this?” She asked.

“What, you made a decision that could be the difference between life and death for another living being without any research?”

“Well, when you put it like that-“

“Do you admit defeat?”

“No! I know it’ll survive! Just tell me how to help it fly.”

Sunday simply shrugged, which upset Robin. After some contemplation, she placed the dove down on the ground, and held her breath waiting.

The bird soon spread its wings, and departed from the ground. The young girl squealed happily, and watched with wide eyes. She then turned, grinning triumphantly at her brother. It was then that she noticed the tall, dark figure looming right behind him.

“Master? What brings you here?”

Gopher Wood simply smiled eerily, and Sunday grimaced, eyes fixed on the now flying dove. A chill of deep dread struck Robin’s spine, making her turn again… Just in time to see the razor sharp talons of a raven dig into the body of the smaller bird. Right as its beak was about to rip flesh off, the girl ran into the house, sobbing loudly.

Sunday and Gopher kept watching. The scene was horrible, gory and disheartening, to say the least.

After a period of silence, the boy spoke up.

“That was a trained raven.”

“What a keen eye.”

“…Why? Robin didn’t have to see that. She’s just a child.”

“I disagree. It was her choice to free the dove, wasn’t it? She has to learn that her actions have consequences, and that defying the concept of order won’t get her anywhere.”

Sunday wordlessly nodded, before walking off.

On the way to the clearing he’d claimed as solely his- which he only turned to when he was having ‘sinful’ ideas that he felt too scared to even think about in the confines of the city- he wondered if Ena would really want one of THEIR creations to suffer, just to teach another a valuable lesson. He then considered that THEY might not truly even care about anyone and anything at all. If he could see and intervene in anything happening in the world, Sunday would try to save every being. But, in the end, he was not God, and THEY were.

10. God listens, but THEY never speak.

“Father..” a weak voice on the other side of the confessional threatened to break. Sunday straightened his posture, as he instinctively always did when spoken to, even if he couldn’t be seen.

“Speak your sorrows, child of the Order.”

“I can’t take it any longer. It feels… It feels like my prayers are falling on deaf ears. My life has only been spiraling into misery… Hell, even a sign would help loads!”

Sunday closed his eyes, thinking deeply.

“I understand how you must feel. However, you should know THEY don’t often give ‘signs’. You may share your troubles with me, and I promise to try my hardest to help you.”

“You’d really do that?”

“I would.” He nodded. He’d trained himself to be aware of his body language and what every single difference in stance could be interpreted as. So, he applied that even when alone, hidden, or in an otherwise casual situation.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you… May I ask a question first?”

“Hm?”

“Do THEY give you signs? Speak to you? Anything at all?”

The halovian fell silent. He didn’t know. Ever since he’d taken over Gopher Wood’s duties, he felt like a failure for being ‘spiritually disconnected’ from the Lord.

“The answer is what you think.” Was what he settled on.

The person on the other side sighed. The next time they spoke, their voice sounded muffled.

“I’m a murderer. I don’t deserve to live. Do you think THEY would forgive me if I..”

“Don’t say that. You are stronger than you think. Why do you consider yourself a murderer?”

“I had an argument with my little sister. It was over something so stupid, I don’t even remember what it was. I was so angry that I pushed her. She hit her head on the kitchen counter, and… oh god. There was so much blood. I saw her brains, Father. I will never forget the sight. I see it every time I sleep, every time I close my eyes, every time I see things that remind me of her. Please, how do I make it stop?” They sobbed.

Sunday was silent, eyes unfocusing as the vivid memory of Robin’s body being charred alive by flames tore its way out of the corner of his brain he’d banished it to.

“Father?”

“…Apologies. That is a lot to process, I was thinking of the optimal way to help. How long ago did this accident happen?”

“I don’t know. It could be anywhere from a few days to several months. After I buried her, everything’s been a blur. She was everything I had left… i hate to think that if I treated her nicer, showed her how much I appreciate her; if I tried to understand her better and didn’t let my emotions get the better of me, she’d still be here.”

“Yes.. You said you buried her body?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“…”

“I see. You don’t have to tell me. I can feel that you are genuinely remorseful. Fear not, the Lord will forgive you, and I’m sure your sister would too. As for the mental scarring, I can only hope that your confession has lifted some weight off your shoulders. You are not alone. If you ever feel as if you need to take drastic measures, I hereby permit you to seek me in my free time. Your life matters, and I’d rather a slight inconvenience to myself than lose another life. It gets easier, I promise. Hardship is the key to happiness.” Although he was saying all this, he barely even believed or understood himself. He’d never had anyone comfort him when he was in a similar situation, nevermind attempt to help him. When he tried to turn to Ena for solace, he was only met with silence… Which was to be expected. However, the toll it took on him was greater than he could’ve ever expected. In any case, he hoped he’d helped the member of his community, even slightly.

The sound of the fabric belonging to the other person’s clothes could be heard- presumably them standing up. It was then followed by footsteps. Sunday groaned loudly once he figured they’d have long exited the church, and placed his face in his hands. This was going to be a long day.

Upon returning home way past midnight, Sunday looked uncharacteristically horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his wings drooped pathetically as he slouched, including his ‘deformed’ second pair, which usually stayed tucked into his coat.

“Sunday!” [Name] ran to the door as soon as it opened. As they bore witness to the state of the halovian, they fell into baffled silence. He blinked blearily, far too tired to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. Go to sleep.” He mumbled, trying to push past them and towards the couch, as the two had traded sleeping utilities after their late-night walk.

“No! Are you okay?”

“Excuse me?”

“You look horrendous. I’m worried.”

“Thanks.” He deadpanned.

“I obviously didn’t mean it that way. It’s just not like you to be so… improper. Woah, wait, you have four wings!?”

“I don’t want to talk about either of those things. Please move, I’d really like to sleep.”

[Name] frowned, and instead of letting Sunday go to sleep on the near back-breaking couch when he was clearly in no condition to, they intertwined their hand with his, pulling him towards the bedroom. Before Sunday had the chance to protest, they’d reached their destination.

“What are you doing?”

“What, you said you wanted to sleep.”

“Are you implying you want to… share a bed?”

“Yeah! That’s not sinful, right?”

“I suppose not.” Sunday gave up.

“Great. I’ll let you change, call me back in when you’re done.”

Sunday didn’t know what had happened to him by the beginning of the next hour. He found himself cuddling his housemate, face buried in their chest as their fingers carded through his hair. If he wasn’t so far gone, he would’ve felt shame to the depths of his bones.

As [Name]’s breathing and heart rate slowed steadily, so did their hand. Sunday smiled, slowly shifting their position until they’d fully swapped roles. While he appreciated being on the receiving end of affection for once, it was just his nature to want to return any kind act done for him.

He draped a wing around their body, figuring he’d finally found a use for the unsightly body part.

11. God knows, but THEY never teach.

Sunday’s hands balled into fists at his sides. He’d been staring at the glass casing containing the stone slate which the commandments had been first carved into for what must’ve been many hours now. He read them over, and over, and over, and over… Despite the fact that his mind was already similar to the slate, in the sense that the words had been permanently etched into both. Every day, he could feel himself growing more and more…Hateful. And so, he decided connecting with the Lord again would be the best course of action.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. As he obsessively examined and carefully thought over every word of the sacred obligations, he could only form more and more questions… More anger. More doubt. The contradictions between several entries now seemed painfully obvious. For example, it was specified that the high priest was the exception to commandment two, but no such thing exists for the numbers nine, ten and eleven… But, communication between God and the high priest was supposed to be the basis of the religion.

As the gears in Sunday’s brain turned, he began to laugh. How could he have been so foolish? These were all just lies. Lies made up by a selfish man who desired nothing more than to rule the whole world by himself. As his laughter grew, so did his fury.

Sunday dug his fingers into the side of the glass; fragile, as all things in this forsaken town. If everyone was under the permanent illusion of safety, why was there any need for precaution? It was so bad, that nobody locked their doors anymore. No one would want to break into your house and kill you, after all. The most likely murderer was the person you trusted enough to live with. As these realizations plagued his mind, Sunday’s hands only gripped the long since shattered shards of glass tighter, and tighter. It hurt so pleasantly right now. Although, soon enough, he dropped them in favor of grasping the stone tablet itself. As he turned around, his eyes darted through the church. He needed something to break it with.

After looking for a considerable amount of time, Sunday decided he’d just fling it at the wall.

As the glorified boulder was about to leave his hand, he hesitated. What if he was wrong? This definitely had to be a misunderstanding. Maybe he just wasn’t open minded enough to understand the deeper meaning of the commandments. After all, every older resident seemed so happy living the way they were. The younger generation- including himself- would grow into doing the same, surely… God is good, Sunday thought.

God is loving.

The priest lowered his hand slowly. He rotated back to his original position, regret filling him at the sight of the broken display and bloodied glass scattered across the floor. If he were to look into his hand, he’d notice the crimson seeping from his open wound was quickly transferring to the commandments.

Sunday closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He just had to clean this up, find a replacement case, and no one would ever know. His sin could stay between him and the Lord, forever.

As for understanding all the contradictions, he was now sure that he just had to try a little harder. After all, God doesn’t teach. For a start, this probably meant THEY wanted THEIR subjects to learn from their and others’ mistakes throughout their life.

Yes, this had to be the solution. This was nothing but another trial for Sunday to overcome; a test of faith.

12. The entire Word of God is passed down through THEIR oracle, the high priest.

In an extremely rare occurrence, Sunday had found himself with a few hours of free time on his hands. He decided to spend one of them browsing the local grocery store, deciding on what snack to purchase for [Name], as a token of appreciation. He hadn’t asked them about their tastes outright, so he was attempting to piece them together from the few, yet valuable conversations they’d had. This was proving to be a more challenging task than expected, but he wasn’t about to give up.

“I believe this is what you’re looking for.” A voice coming from Sunday’s right spoke sweetly. He turned his head, confused. Before him stood a person, with an appearance so strikingly out of place that he managed how they even managed to make it into the city. They had white hair, parted into short twin tails on either side of their head. They also had long curtain bangs, however, the upper part of their hairstyle didn’t even utilize as much as half of their locks. The expanse of white fell down to the floor, dragging along it whenever they moved. They wore simple, yet eye grabbing make up, which nicely complemented their tanned skin. Their eyes appeared to naturally stay shut for the entirety of Sunday’s examination of them, not displaying any of the twitching that the eyes of a normal person forcing them to stay closed would. What was really out of place, though, was their clothing. They wore a tight, black dress which was about as long as their hair. It was rather revealing, especially in the chest and leg area. Whilst the town Sunday lived in didn’t exactly enforce ‘purity culture’ anymore, it was still unusual to dress immodestly. Additionally, the sort of corset piece wrapped around their midriff and neck appeared to be real gold, solidifying their status as an outsider. The followers of Order weren’t exactly wealthy, as money had not been used since the founding of the religion, and Gopher Wood considered the concept to be inherently unfair. Of course, this didn’t stop him from continuing to hoard any currency he came across, to be able to afford imported garments and accessories of the finest quality for only himself and his children.

“Pardon?” He narrowed his eyes, inspecting the item. It was one of the choices he’d been considering for [Name]’s snack, although he was still second-guessing himself.

“This is their favorite.” The foreigner extended their hand further, as if urging him to take it.

“What are you talking about?” Sunday was becoming uncomfortable.

“[Name]? Your.. Friend. This is their favorite. You are looking for something to get them, no?”

“Hah..I see. You’re one of Xipe’s slaves.” He chuckled bitterly, and grabbed a duplicate of the item they were holding off the shelf.

“I’d strongly urge you to return to your home, if you know what’s best for you. Good day.” He turned to leave, but a hand as cold as death itself gripped his wrist with a hold that would be sure to cut off his circulation if it was kept too long.

“Is this all the thanks I get? You would’ve spent another hour deciding if it weren’t for me.” The person pouted in mock offense.

“Stop. Get out of my mind, please.” He tried to pull away, to no avail.

“And what if I don’t? Are you going to call upon Ena to save you? Oh wait..” They laughed.

“Tsk…Do not use THEIR sacred name with such mocking purpose.”

“I really don’t get what you see in THEM. I mean, THEY’RE such a deadbeat! The Great One would never let THEIR subjects suffer.”

“Says the one whose idol abandoned THEIR town without leaving as much as a divine messenger.”

“Hm? But I am the High Priest.”

“High Priest? My a-.. ahem… That does not sound very likely. Clearly, you’re blessed in some form, but knowing Penacony, they would hold a week-long festival in your honor if you gave substantial proof of this. Who are you, really?”

The person smiled, and let go of his now bruised wrist. They’d still not opened their eyes once.

“Oh, would you look at the time. Well, I should get going. Until we meet again~” they waved, and walked away, humming an awfully familiar tune.

Sunday would then stand in the middle of the aisle, snack in hand as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He wondered if the person was trying to convince him to turn to the Harmony, or just teasing him. What’s worse is that if it was the former, he believed he might’ve actually considered.

The halovian soon dragged himself home, deep in thought. As he opened the door to see [Name] sitting on the couch as they had been doing more often lately, Sunday smiled. He sat next to them, far closer than usual.

“…I got you something.” He handed them the snack. [Name] gasped quietly.

“Ohh.. Did you know this was my favorite? Thank you so much!” They hugged him.

“Really? Must’ve been a lucky guess. In any case, consider this payment for the strawberries.” Sunday shut his eyes. Perhaps the worshipper of Xipe wasn’t all that horrible.

13. God’s aims are the aims of the world

Lately, Sunday had been frequenting the church in the dead of night. Since the meeting with the strange worshipper of Harmony, he’d been questioning his faith more than ever before. A part of him struggled with the same urge to run that he’d felt in Robin’s final moments. However, instead of his fear of angry, violent adults holding him back now, it was the fear of repercussions for becoming one.

He considered himself weak minded. He knew very well what he was getting into before accepting the position of high priest. He knew he’d have to murder and hurt, and yet… He never truly could. A secret Sunday swore he’d take to the grave, was that he never truly punished traitors as God commanded. Even after the incident with the tradesman, the worst he could muster was kicking him into unconsciousness and dropping him off into Penacony’s territory. That very night, he prayed to the God he himself had just betrayed, that the man was taken to a hospital. In his heart, Sunday still believed that if he were to implore the Lord to forgive those who turned away from them, THEY would.

Sunday had what one might call a heart of gold. He wanted the best for everyone, even if it directly contradicted the teachings of his Master, and the undeniable holy rules given to the world by God. However, his constant desire to help came at the cost of his own sanity- fact which he was acutely aware of. He considered it a small price to pay for the joy of others.

In his mind, he was responsible for the actions of each and every one of The Order’s followers. If they sinned, it was purely his fault for not managing to stop them. He’d be the one spending eternity in the burning embers, while any who sinned under him and died before he did, would be forgiven and led to the peaceful afterlife they strived for all their lives. If he’d explain this to any sane person, they’d most likely immediately pick up on how specific, flawed, and barely comprehensible his logic was… Unfortunately, he never would.

“You look tired.” The sickly sweet voice of the strange worshipper called from behind Sunday, making him halt.

“I know for a fact that I locked the gates.” He crossed his arms, but didn’t give the person the pleasure of looking at them.

“What can I say, I have my ways… Anyway, I don’t think burying yourself in your delusions is very healthy. You should rest.”

“I must say, you’re very bold. You simply can’t hold yourself back from insulting the Lord in front of THEIR messenger, hm?”

“I am simply stating a fact. You’re starting to doubt THEIR very existence, and you know that. If you acknowledge your situation, why do you still choose to indulge?”

Sunday did not speak for a long period of time.

“If you truly were a High Priest, you’d understand. God is all I have. I’ve invested so much time into becoming what I am now, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise.”

“And you still don’t follow the very principle that supposedly founded your religion. Clearly, deep down, what you want is to help everyone. You’d be well suited for the Harmony…”

“No. The harmony dictates that everyone must live through trial and error. That’s such unnecessary suffering, that can simply be avoided by protecting everyone.”

“Learning through mistakes? Isn’t that what you ultimately decided Ena’s ideal was, when you noticed people making mistakes over and over again, even when the whole point of this religion is to establish ultimate control and peace to the point where people will actively seek out pain to break the monotony?”

“…Then, I was mistaken. I never saw the similarities to the Harmony before. I pray THEY can forgive me as I try to truly understand THEIR commandments once more. Thank you for telling me this. I shall… Become a better fit for my role, through any means necessary.”

“Really? Or will you do as you’ve always done, and continue to refuse to harm anyone as your God dictates?”

“…Even if I were to do that, which I will earnestly try not to, the spiritual consequences would fall onto me, solely. I’m the one not doing my job, I-“

“Sunday! When was the last time you’ve uttered or thought something that makes any sense, at all!? Look deeply within yourself, you’ll realize how absurd you’re being.”

The halovian simply smiled. Perhaps, long ago, that would’ve been true. However, that was no longer a possibility. Any time he’d come to the same realization, his being would instinctively suffocate itself with a half-hearted explanation that would seem plausible enough at first glance, until he’d begin to deconstruct it, at which point the process would repeat.

The stranger’s expression shifted into a sorrowful one. They’d really tried to help him, but he was truly too far gone.

“I see. I hope your soul will someday be able to find peace.” They left, giving Sunday the opportunity to continue destroying himself in peace.

14. God and the high priest shall be regarded as one and the same.

Gopher Wood’s amber eyes intently observed Mikhail. His head was informally resting on the table, wings fluttering in anticipation as he waited for his ally to finish reading the documents he’d presented him with.

“So? What do you think?” He finally spoke, having grown impatient.

“I’m not done yet..”

“Well, you’ve read most of it. What do you think so far, then?”

“I didn’t know you had such little patience, Mr. Wood.”

“Yes, yes..Well, now you know.”

“I don’t consider it appropriate to share my opinion on something that I don’t fully understand. I ask that you continue waiting.”

“Fine.” Gopher scoffed, and stood up.

“I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Mikhail sighed as he continued reading. Him and Gopher had met just over three amber eras ago, under inexplicable circumstances. At the time, it seemed they had similar ideals for the future of Penacony- a beautiful town, ravaged by an unfortunate dispute. The two quickly struck up a friendship, or at the very least, a cordial working relationship. At first, they agreed that their end goal was to join The Family, a union of towns and cities who worshipped a god known as Xipe and believed in the concept of Harmony. The men slowly gained the respect of most Penaconians that, too,wished for peace, who allowed them to become something akin to a two-person government.

After all that, they successfully completed their goal. Although, soon after, Gopher began acting unusually. He distanced himself from Mikhail, only talking to him to ask odd questions, such as ‘if he ever wished the entire town’s residents could be puppets’. The blue-haired man grew incredibly concerned for his partner’s wellbeing, but could never reach Gopher to speak to him about this topic.

A few days prior, he had invited him out to drinks to discuss ‘an exciting new discovery’. They now found themselves here, Gopher having handed Mikhail a folder full of papers, detailing the proof of the existence of another deity before Xipe. THEY were known by the name of Ena, and represented Order, which was awfully close to the concept of Harmony, besides the awfully concerning attitude towards those who desired to follow their own path in life.

Just as Mikhail finished reading, the halovian returned.

“Are you done yet?”

“Yes…?”

“Wonderful! So?”

“I’m… Not quite sure I understand. Do you want to leave The Family and pursue this religion? Do you even have any current proof this, ‘Ena’ even exists..?”

“Oh, THEY don’t!” He giggled, joyfully taking a sip of his wine. Just as Mikhail was preparing to open his mouth, he continued:

“Not anymore, at least. But if we can make people believe THEY do, we’ll have them wrapped around our fingers. They’ll just do anything we want under the guise of religion. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? There can truly be peace upon Penacony.”

“…How drunk are you?”

“Plenty.”

“You’re not thinking straight. That would never work, it’d just be defying human nature. Besides, if the ones who continue trying to end our lives for opposing them can’t even agree with Harmony, what makes you think they’d want to obey the words of an imaginary God?”

“Oh, them? They have no place in Penacony either way. If I were to execute my plan, I’d be doing a great favor to everyone.” He grinned.

“That’s enough. Get up. I’m taking you home, and you’re going to sleep off all that wine.” Mikhail stood, tossing the documents into the nearest trash.

“I know what I’m doing, my dear Misha. I’ve been fantasizing about this since before we even met… It’s my greatest wish, and what’s the best for Penacony- no, the world, even! Why must you be so cruel~?”

“…You’re not who I thought you were. Why.. Why would you even say that?”

“Mm.. Tell me one thing, then.” He rounded the table, until he was face to face with Mikhail. He then grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him even closer, grinning. “How long do you think a society under the Order’s rule will last? Hell, even with the most haphazard basis I can throw together in one night?”

“Don’t-“

“Answer me.”

“…A decade, at most.”

“Very well.” Gopher hummed, and let go.

“I say… Triple that, before it spreads to Penacony. At least a century after that until the downfall.”

“What are you planning to do..?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re,, a psychopath. This will never work! Even if it somehow lasted for your entire lifetime, you’d never find a successor gullible enough to extend your little cult’s existence for that long.”

Gopher’s smile widened sinisterly.

“Cult? I prefer the word social experiment. Anyway, I should get going now. I heard the next town over has little contact with outsiders, and I’d like to get there before that changes.” He turned, and began to walk.

“Until we meet again, Misha.”

15. God is absolute.

After his second encounter with what seemed to be Xipe’s chosen one, Sunday felt completely drained. He hadn’t fully felt like a living, breathing entity since he was maybe six years old, but the mental haze that affected him worsened with each significant event that happened to him. He stumbled home at the same time that the sun began to peek over the horizon.

Despite the fact that he returned to sleeping on the couch after the night him and [Name] cuddled, he didn’t feel like sleeping alone at this moment.

Following several minutes of hesitation, Sunday opened the bedroom door, cautiously stepping in. Of course, his friend was sleeping peacefully, and luckily for him, deeply. The man stalked over to the closet door, which had been divided into halves to accommodate both his and [Name]’s clothes. He quickly discarded his current outfit, changing into a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. The shirt rode up his stomach slightly, as he hadn’t ever found the time to poke wing holes into his casual garments; therefore, his wings were just hanging naturally.

He slowly sat down on the unoccupied side of the bed, pausing to see if the sleeping person would wake. When they didn’t, he made himself more comfortable, even pulling half of the blanket over himself.

That action caused [Name] to turn. Sunday was preparing an apology speech for waking them, but they were unbothered. They grabbed his arm, snuggling it. The halovian took a moment to process, upper wings tensing in surprise. He was still not used to being touched, but he’d feel too bad pushing them away. So, instead of getting any rest, he just awkwardly stared at them for hours, frozen in place.

Finally, [Name] yawned, attempting to stretch. They were stopped by the sensation of a warm, solid object being held between their arms. When their eyes shot open, they barely stopped themselves from screaming at the sight of Sunday, who looked at them with a tired frown.

“Sorry,, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just feeling unwell, and I thought…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’m just, a little surprised. You don’t really seem like the type of guy who’d enjoy this kind of stuff.”

“‘Stuff’…?”

“Yeah. You know, like, closeness.”

“Really? Hm.” He turned his head away, deep in thought.

“I guess you’re right.“ He nearly whispered, pulling his arm away.

The silence that followed was painfully awkward. So much so, that [Name] decided to speak the first thought that came to mind:

“Can I touch your wings?”

“Sorry?”

“I want to touch your wings. They look super fluffy.”

Sunday narrowed his eyes, wondering where they obtained such courage. A halovian’s wings were just about sacred, and most only allowed those closest to them to do as much as stare at them for extensive amount of time. And still…

“You may. But, please be careful. They’re very sensitive, and tear easily.”

“Wait, really? I wasn’t really expecting you to let me..” [Name] was dumbfounded.

“I suppose so. The idea doesn’t make me uncomfortable, as I… Truly appreciate you. It feels like you’re the only person that has seen me as human in an embarrassingly long time. This is the least I can do to express my gratitude.” He leaned in closer, extending the wings on the side closest to [Name]. They didn’t speak, only reaching out to pet the wing sticking out from under his shirt. Sunday was surprised, as he figured they’d first pick the carefully preened, pristine, and intact wing on his head.

“It’s so soft..” they gasped, brushing a finger along the trimmed edge of the appendage. They then moved on to his upper wing, scratching behind it like one would with a cat.

Sunday metaphorically melted, gently collapsing onto [Name]. His eyes closed contently as his roommate continued their exploration of his features.

Unfortunately, their happiness didn’t last long. The distinct sound of wood being axed through snapped both people out of their relaxed state. Sunday jumped out of bed, and out the bedroom door. The sound was coming from the front entrance- which was stupid, as it was unlocked, much like any other door in the town. He crossed his arms, glaring at the widening hole in his door.

Upon completely decimating the wooden structure, a furious mob of followers of the Order barged in, carrying pitchforks and unlit torches. Sunday blinked in disbelief, if only for a couple seconds.

“You liar… Murderous whoreson of a cunt! How could you… How? Do you even realize how many people have lost or wasted their lives on your fuckass cult!? You will pay for this!” A man near the front screamed, spit flying onto Sunday as he did so. He wiped it off his face, giving his subjects a tired smile.

“My children, please. This must all be one great misunderstanding. I urge you to lay your weapons down, and explain to me what crime exactly you think it is that I committed.” He clasped his hands together, eyes closing inoffensively. Once again, his communication attempt was met with a slap.

“Misunderstanding? Hah. Tell that to The Devil! Tie him!” The man ordered, in response to which, the follower of Harmony stepped forward, rope in hand. As they stood parallel to Sunday, they opened their eyes for the first time. The blue outer ring transforming into a deep purple one didn’t look the least bit human, and neither did the grey sclera. If anything, such colors more closely resembled the written description of Ena, if only reversed.

It was then that it clicked.

Sunday began to twitch, in what seemed like the unfortunate moment where the psyche of a tortured man finally shattered. Hell, maybe that was accurate. He soon began to laugh, louder than he ever had before.

As he found himself preoccupied with that, Xipe gave him one last pitiful glance.

“I’m sorry.” THEY mouthed, beginning to bind his arms and wings.

[Name] gripped the edge of the bedroom doorframe. They had been observing for the entirety of the conflict, frozen. Perhaps, if the sea of people didn’t extend well past the confines of the house, they would’ve tried to help Sunday.

“See? He’s gone far past mad- Wait, should we do something about [Name]?” A villager questioned another, causing Sunday to cease his laughter.

“Absolutely. Burn the entire house down, everything he’s touched is tainted.”

“Are you insane? They’re pretty new. What do you think are the chances that they knew?” A third chimed in.

“[Name] didn’t know. It… It was all on me. I’m the one who lied to you. I deceived each and every one of you in pursuit of control. I corrupted the pure intentions of Gopher Wood, and, I ended his life via poison. I am the only culprit.” Sunday tensed, frantically looking around to see how many people believed his faux confession. Of course, only the first sentence was even remotely true. However, if he were to die today, there was no reason to drag the dead and the innocent along with him.

The villagers fell silent, looking between each other in a silent discussion.

“I believe him.” Xipe said, tugging on Sunday’s binds as THEY lead him towards the door, clearing a path through the mob.

The crowd followed, much like a herd of sheep would. This left [Name] alone, and confused.

When the silence became deafening, they hurried to follow. They figured that even if they couldn’t physically be that close to him during whatever was going to happen, then being there at all might make Sunday feel less alone. Even if what he’d confessed was true; which they didn’t fully believe, he did save their life. This was the least they could do for him.

Tears rolled down Sunday’s face, shining golden from the bright sunlight seeping into them. He was awarded the courtesy of choosing when he’d be ended, and he picked sundown. He’d been nailed to a cross, through his hands, wings, and shoulders. The fallen priest was in utter agony, and yet, he was quite alright with this.

Xipe took the same role Sunday had all those years ago; the killer. The villagers were seething, and craved nothing but blood. So, they all collectively decided Sunday was going to be nailed, burnt, and finally shot in the neck. Xipe offered THEMSELVES as executioner. No mortal deserved to have to live with the fact they were the direct cause of another human being’s untimely demise…

As THEIR lit torch approached the kindling, Xipe gazed into Sunday’s eyes once more. They smiled. It was barely visible, yet earnest.

Sunday returned the gesture, inhaling the last breath of fresh air he’d ever take.

[Name] kneeled in front of the charred, bloodied, and decaying corpse of Sunday. They didn’t even think he saw them in his final moments, ergo, they exposed themselves to his disgustingly brutal end for nothing.

They dipped their head, placing the bouquet of wild flowers they’d picked from the clearing which Sunday introduced them to, at his feet.

“Do you want to bury him?”

“…What?” [Name] turned, recognizing the voice as Sunday’s executioner.

“You cared about him. I doubt you want him to publicly rot for..What, a decade?”

“Yeah.”

“Stand. And take the flowers. I’ll carry him.”

And so, they did. In the same clearing the flowers had been picked from, [Name] and Xipe had buried Sunday. They didn’t mark his grave, deciding to finally let him rest.

“So? What will happen now? To everyone in the town, I mean. I don’t know about anyone else, but I have nowhere to go, and a town without a leader is a town without laws. But they’re all so violent…”

“Hm..Penacony has a place for all. Even with their violent tendencies, they can learn and grow.”

“So, why couldn’t Sunday?”

“Despite not knowing what he even believed in, Sunday thought he was nothing without Order. No matter what anyone could ever try, he’d refuse to change. It’s unfortunate, but, he should be allowed to make his own choices.”

“…But that’s so unfair.”

“Being forced into obedience would be equally unfair, no? Sunday died on his own terms.”

“I guess. It’s just, sad.”

[Name] received no reply. They felt as if the other presence had suddenly vanished, but didn’t bother to confirm this.

They laid down next to Sunday’s resting place, closing their eyes. They still struggled to comprehend how their life had taken such a horrible turn so quickly.

It didn’t matter now. [Name] yawned, rolling over onto the side they were most comfortable on. Upon waking, they’d set off to Penacony, where they would find a job and make a living for themselves. But tonight, they just wanted a semblance of a proper farewell to the cozy lifestyle they had grown so accustomed to, and to the man that made it all possible.

[trans-androgyne]

tbh i fucking hate the terms tme/tma because it just centers one oppressed group while disregarding the other. transmisogyny is important to discuss but it's also important to talk about transmisandry/transandrophobia??? and it's hurtful that one is seemingly placed as more important than the other, as if trans fems' pain is more important than anybody else's, as if we're not all in this together!! trans fems can be more visible sometimes which may lead to more attacks, but trans mascs' invisibility is not good either and doesn't protect as much as people think and frankly makes it so much worse in many cases. just. hate the binary of it. when it's so much more complicated. also one of the arguments i've heard is that transmisandry can't exist bcs misandry doesn't, as in men don't suffer from patriarchy which???? i can't agree with this notion. men may not suffer from it in the same way or to the same extent, but toxic masculinity is a term for a reason!!! "boys shouldn't cry", "boys shouldn't have these and those interests", "boys shouldn't act like this and that". people will often say that it's a derivation from misogyny bcs they're seen as lowering themselves to the level of 'weaker gender' when they shouldn't according to society's standards, but like. when girls are told that they shouldn't act so and so bcs it's 'boyish' and 'unbecoming of her' we still call it misogyny. in patriarchy women are often seen as frail and weak but men are often seen as brutish and cold n aggressive. patriarchists may call both of the gender 'dumb' and 'stupid' when it suits their needs because it's built on hypocrisy and pretending otherwise is ignoring the root of the problem.

Yeah, it’s really clear that some people use tme/tma because they believe transmisogyny to be the worst possible oppression, while the transphobia faced by trans men and mascs is assumed to barely affect them in comparison, since it’s “just transphobia” or “just misogyny” when they’re treated similarly to women. A lot of intracommunity transandrophobia seems to stem from the people not understanding/refusing to believe that men and mascs (and people perceived as such) can very much experience sexism and even gendered oppression. Cis men face sexism when they’re told they can’t have been the victim of domestic violence, especially at the hands of a woman. Trans men and mascs experience gendered oppression as their maleness/masculinity is non-normative and marginalizes them—makes them transgender. That can all be true without implying that we don’t live under a patriarchy/that hegemonic manhood isn’t privileged over other genders.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

QPR Steve and Evie fic

“You dumbass,” Evie grins at him, the gap in her front teeth showing, glossy hair framing her face like a dark halo. Her skin is the same deep bronze colour as his own, but her eyes are different, glittery black and almond shaped, framed in feathery lashes. Steve’s always thought her to be a real beauty, even if half the guys in Tulsa are too dumb to see it.

“Hey!” He feigns playful offence, but she isn’t wrong. He may be a dumbass but at least he’s self aware.

She laughs at him, taking a messy bite of her burger, and he loves her desperately. He’s not in love with her- there’s only one person for him, and he’s currently sitting two tables away, listening to Sandy Okensy talk about hair products like she’s some sort of goddess- but his friendship with Evie is everything. She understands him completely, never wants him to be anything but himself and still seems to like him for it. He wonders if she even has a clue how precious she is to him, a friend who never wants anything more from him than he can give. Boys and girls aren’t really supposed to be friends in Tulsa- it’s why everyone thinks he and Evie are dating and they don’t bother correcting anyone- but she’s one of the best friend’s he’s ever had.

“You are,” she insists through a mouthful of food, “you’re supposed to at least pretend you’re having fun with me instead of looking at Sodapop like that.”

A year ago hearing her even allude to his feelings about Soda would have sent such a powerful spike of fear through him that he would have lashed out immediately, but he’s long since grown comfortable with Evie knowing. He knows she’d never tell a soul, that she gets it. Evie isn’t the same kind of different as him but she is different too, has never loved anyone the way he loves Sodapop or Soda loves Sandy, is not sure she’s even capable of it, has never been consumed by any kind of lust. She always says friendship is enough for her. Steve wished his heart worked like that. Evie's type of loving seems like a blessing, while Steve has only ever known his own to be a curse. 

“I am having fun,” he tells her, and it’s true. For all it sucks to watch Sandy get everything his defective heart desires, he always loves hanging out with Evie. Fun seems to follow her around, a dog with its master, keeping her bright eyed and teasing even when she sometimes shouldn’t be, “it’s just hard sometimes, seeing him… with her, y’know?”

“No,” Evie shrugs, giving him a grin that managed to be both pitying and mirthful, inviting him to share the joke, the secret she’d entrusted only to him, “I don’t. Looks like it sucks though.”

Steve exhales heavily, the closest approximation he can get to a laugh. He doesn’t understand how she can make him being all stupid and heartsick seem funny, but she somehow always manages to.

“Oh fuck off.”

She throws a fry at him. He catches it and stuffs it in his mouth before tossing one of his own back. It lands in her lap before she picks it up, dunking it into her milkshake, pulling it out soggy and doused in vanilla ice cream before eating it.

He glares at her, not even bothering to hide his disdain.

“That’s vile.”

“You’re vile.” Her frown doesn’t even last ten seconds before her smile is back. She’s terrible at arguing, even playfully, always has been. He’s always loved that about her. For some reason he has a weakness for people filled with so much joy when they have so many reasons to be filled with hate. 

“Nice comeback.”

“Thanks, I thought so too.” She very pointedly misinterprets his sarcasm, and maintains eye contact as she very carefully selects the biggest fry left on her plate and slowly lowers it into her milkshake.

Disgusting.

Steve looks away as she very deliberately eats her second milkshake soaked fry, making exaggerated noises of enjoyment. She’s trying to get a rise out of him and he refuses to give her the satisfaction, even if her antics are earning them a few disapproving looks from the elderly couple a few booths away. 

Whatever. He shoots a glare at the old lady with the pinched look on her face. Geez, people should mind their own business. 

When he looks back Evie is watching him with fondness written all over her face, and he can feel his cheeks heat up, unused to such simple and obvious adoration. Even with Soda, whose love he never doubts even if it’s not the kind of love he wants, affection is never shown quite this obviously. Soda will pat him on the back or sling an arm around his neck, but only Evie ever looks at him like this.

“What?”

“You got your grumpy face on.”

His scowl deepens.

“I don’t have a ‘grumpy face.’”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don't.”

“Yes you do,” she scrunches up her nose and makes an exaggerated scowl, hunching her shoulders as she does so, “see? Like this.”

He scoffs, fighting another grin. How does she do that? 

“Shut up.”

“Nah.”

He shakes his head and she beams.

“Seriously though,” she says, “you don’t gotta scowl at anyone who looks at me funny. I know I’m weird.”

She says weird like it’s a dirty word. Steve bristles. 

“You ain’t weird!” He promises himself he’ll find out whoever told her that and teach them a lesson. Evie isn’t weird. Anyone who sees her light and her joy and her quirks and decides they mean she has something to answer for- they’re the weird ones. Steve doesn't know a lot but he knows anyone who thinks there's something wrong with Evie isn’t just weird, they’re plain stupid and crazy to boot.

“I am,” She shrugs, accepting it, though he can see a glimmer of insecurity in her dark eyes and it just about kills him, “everyone says so. Hell, you were there in the third grade when everyone called me ‘batshit Bylilly’.”

He was, and he remembers the fury it had invoked in him then, the same as it does now. Evie’s grandfather had died that year, and a lot of the things people called her crazy for were simply ways her family grieved. It wasn’t fair then, just like it still isn’t fair now, hating her just because she’s different. She’s better than any of the assholes who see her as less than because her mom’s family is from the rez and never tried to fit in in Tulsa. Fat load of good it would have done them anyway. Look at Steve’s own dad, trying to pretend like he didn’t grow up in Mexico when he still barely speaks any english. Maybe mom wouldn’t have left if his dad had tried to keep her home alive in his heart and his family, the way Evie’s family did, instead of forever trying to be something he’s not and trying to force them to be too. Besides, it’s not like Tulsa liked him anymore than they liked Evie, for all he tried to fit in. Like her, he’d always be a bit of an outsider.

“You ain’t weird,” Steve argues again, and it’s a familiar argument, but one he’s determined for her to someday believe him about, “not the way they say it. Like it’s a bad thing. Ain’t nothin’ about you is bad.”

“You’re real sweet, y’know that?”

“Shut up.” No one in their right mind has ever called him sweet.

“You are.” she insists, “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna tell anyone and mess up your tuff greaser rep.”

He laughs and her eyes crinkle at the corners, back to their usual twinkly light. 

He’s gonna have to marry her someday. Not necessarily because he wants to but because if he doesn’t marry her then someone else will- and no matter how kind that person may be they’re going to want something Evie can never give them, and he can’t let that happen to her. Besides, it’s not like he could marry who he wanted even if Soda loved him back. And he could do far worse than Evie. There are far worse things than marrying someone as effervescent as her.

“Looks like those two are getting ready to go.” Evie inclines her head, and Steve follows her gaze to see that she’s right, Soda is waving over the waitress, Sandy giggling and tucked into his side. With a start he realizes Evie has managed to distract him so completely he'd forgotten all about Soda and his own envious heart. “You still feeling up to going to the movies with them? I can always fake a stomach ache if you’d rather just go home. Or we could go to a drag race. I think Angela said there’s gonna be one at the rodeo grounds tonight.”

Steve thinks about it. Usually when they double date with Soda and Sandy they eat separately like they did today, but the four of them walk over to the nightly double together to watch a movie. Sandy usually sits in Soda’s lap and he usually plays with her hair, and the sight of it always leaves a pit in Steve’s stomach that his heart drops into. It’s not exactly his favourite feeling in the world. 

But…Evie usually sits beside him when they go, and she always throws popcorn at any socs she doesn’t like, and challenges him to a burping contest once they get pop, even if Sandy scolds her for it. She’ll get cold as soon as the sun goes down and bully him into giving her his sweater, but share her cigs to make up for it, and she’ll mutter stupid jokes in his ear to make him laugh whenever there’s a serious scene on. He’ll hurt watching Soda, but with Evie there he’lll still manage to have fun.

“Nah,” he decides, “I’m still down to go to the movies.”

“Good!” Evie chirps, tossing a few coins on the table before Steve can even reach for his wallet, “It’s a horror film tonight and it’s supposed to be a bad one.  I wanna see how many folks are gonna faint at all the blood.”

“You reckon Sandy will?”

“Hmm,” Evie gives the blonde girl a considering look, “I dunno. Probably not. I bet she’ll scream though.”

“Twenty cents and a pack of Kools says she faints at the first murder scene.”

“I’ll take that bet.” They shake on it, and he follows her outside, listening to her talk about nothing in particular and stupidly glad she is here, with him, that she sees him as something worth caring about.

Soda might be his best friend, the love of his life, but Evie is his person in a way no one else could never hope to touch. She knows his soul and he knows hers and they love each other anyway.

It’s not any kind of fairytale. But maybe it’s something even better.

Evie wins their bet. Steve doesn’t really mind.