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nemesyaaa · 3 months ago

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a house in nebraska ! rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary ; you were the reason he won't come home but you still call home. this story is based on the song of ethel cain.

warnings : it's angst. fully angst. it's about toxic relationship. so violence, arguing and fighting, sick behavior, daddy and mommy issues, the urge of love and being loved, mentions of drugs, the feeling of being misunderstood and unsteady. home is used as a metaphor of relationship. it's about inner rage too. slight of smut but very little. both rafe and reader being fucked up. southern goth/small town coded.

author's note : it's my first time writing angst so be easy one me please ! as i said, it's based on " a house in nebraska" by ethel cain (because she's my favorite artist and my muse.) and a lot of her songs make me think of rafe, but i also take inspo of her others songs like crush, strangers, and hard times. also a hint of bet on losing dogs by mitski.

i dont know how many words are in this works, but i think around 3k ? it's a one-shot ! BETTER TO READ IT WHILE LISTENING TO A SAD SONG. (a house in nebraska (live version)or anything else)

you lived in the nebraska with rafe, he was your man and you were his girl. it was a small town that allowed you to be just him and you against the world, to be safe from the rest. but the ugly truth was that your house had become a raging mess. the mattresses had become dirty, the silence too comfortable, the night too long, the emptiness too deep, the love too absent and the violence too present. everyone was angry here, even demons and the silence.

rafe was a storm, and every time you tried to calm it, you became further worse. no, you weren't becoming like him, you were becoming him, the mirror of his emotions, full of rage and inexpressible feelings. like a bomb, you needed it to come out, to scream and explode. like a bomb, you needed to hurt, and destroy everything in your way.

you had built this house together, when he still worked with his hands, oh god, how much you loved those big and strong hands, the dirt and bruises on his skin. the softness of his palms when he touched you, the pulsating veins engraved. they were made to love you, to caging you. they were always rushed with blood and wounds because of his work, but despite how dirty they were when he came home, they were always pure and clean on your body. but you also were so in love with his messy sweaty hair, caressing by the wind. he was tall and handsome, the kind of man who worked all day, and drunk at night, some whiskey or bourbon. but never missed to please the needs of his girl.

when he smoked his red marlboros on the porch, you were sitting on his lap like a sleepy girl to take a nap on his heavy arms that managed to hug your body. when he took a sip of his cold beer, while you had nothing to do but being his own pretty girl. when he allowed you to bathe him, cleaning the mess and the sweat. when you used to learn him how to play some classic music on the old piano, and he was just turned on by the way you used so damn well your fingers, and making you sit on the board, and fuck you right there, even if the windows were wide open.

at this time, you would have die for him.

when he still listened to what you said, when he still answered your calls and did not make you sick by his silence, when you laughed every time he came home . but now you were starting to hate the fact that he was coming.

how did the man who was supposed to make you so happy manage to break you so easily? but you weren't an angel either, oh far from it, you had neither wings nor halo on your head, you didn't even have god in your heart. you made him, like all men, your enemy.

it was four in the morning, it was still dark, you were waiting in the living room.

the tv wasn't on. rafe had broken it during an argument. that wasn’t the only thing he shattered, you had to be the hardest thing he does. not even with his fists, with just the force of his words, the way they were murderous, the way they had the force to tear your heart open and crushed it into pieces.

most people would say that this man was not the type to cry, that a man doesn't cry, but rafe cried. and you had seen him a couple of times, and the first time you saw him burst into tears, you knew straight away that it was the real him. that behind all this hatred, this anger, there was a hurted little boy. and who grew up with an open wound, a wound impossible to heal, even with all the love in the world.

rafe was the kind of man who screamed, who cried, who bled, a fallen angel who had lost god along the way, who had been ignored, but mostly, never heard.

when he opened the door to the house, you hated the strong smell of alcohol, but also of blood. you never asked him for anything, the only thing you wanted was for him to come home on time for dinner, to go to bed with you. but no one, absolutely, no one tamed a dog like him. and you rathered not bet on losing dogs.

“where were you ?? ” you had already started shouting due to lack of patience, getting up from the chair to confront him.

you had seen him sigh, making that bored face, like you had no reason to be upset, that face that made all women become even worse.

“if you had the same energy to scream when we fuck, we would have a fantastic sex life.”

“seriously, rafe? you want to play the asshole, right now ? ”

“ it will suit your bitch behavior, so why not ?”

you slapped him very hard in the face. what obviously rafe didn't find this very amusing, he crushed you in the wall, pinned your hands above your head.

“ don't you dare slapping me again. you want to be mean, sweetheart ? i can be meaner. let's see....oh this is the necklace that your mom offered to you before leaving ? how sweet. maybe, i can sell it for a good price. ”

“ rafe. don't. ”

he shushed you, by putting his other hand on your mouth. “ you're not allowed to talk right now. you had your turn for, now, it's my fucking turn. and i will do whatever the fuck i want ! it's my house, my rules. ”

he unhooked the necklace, as you tried to break away from his grip but he closed his fingers tighter against your wrists.

“I'm going to kill you, no matter what you do, i'm going to kill you. ”

“murder me” he said with a louder voice. “i’m asking you to murder me! it’s probably the only good thing you’ll have done well in your life. you know even if i die tonight, i will die yours. even if you kill me, i will always be here.”

he released you, and you exploded. “you have exceeded the limits, rafe! ”

” since when are there boundaries between us, sugar? we're freaks, remember? ”

you threw away the first object you found, it was an empty coffee cup. you threw it at his face. but he had dodged it with a sick smile. your jaw clenched, eyes blazing with fury, you were out of control. you were what he wanted you to be every time he came home late

” oh you can do better than that baby. i'm sure i taught you how to shoot better than this when i showed you how to kill? do you remember? ”

“ this, this fucking attitude, rafe is why everybody leaves you ! ”

“ yes. and do i fucking care, y/n ? do i fucking care ? i grew up in a family where nobody loved me, nobody reached after me, nobody looked after me, nobody dared to pay attention to me and you tell me i have to care about everyone leaving me ? no, it's not fucking fair ! so do you understand ? i don't care. if you want to leave, you know better than me that the door is open because you're the only one to be stucking in front, waiting like a fucking dog that i come come. ”

“ fine. i leave ! ”

you took the keys of the car, even if rafe hated that you drove, especially at midnight. but you were too upset, too mad.

your man wasn't done with you. he stood in front of the car you were driving.

“if you think i'm afraid of killing you, when you were the one who taught me how to do that, you're wrong. ”

" yes ? then show me how well i did my job. kill me. ”

“ rafe, i’m not kidding. ”

“ perfect, we are both serious then. ”

you moved the car forward, pressing the pedal with your feet. you hitted him with the car. it was strong but not violent either.

you got out of the car quickly to check on him. but he was smiling, a little blood on his face.

“are you sick!? ”

“ i raised you well, i fear. now, lick this face. i can see in your eyes how pretty you find me covered with blood, so please yourself, lick it all. ”

“ wait, i will find some tis….”

“ no, with your tongue. clean my whole face with your tongue. don't waste anything. i want to be able to kiss you right after, and recognize the taste of my blood all over your mouth. you want to be sick ? make me feel sick too. ”

maybe you were too young to realize that some loves could be bad. but this relationship was toxic. you had both destroyed each other, and it was complicated when you saw this world, this universe only through your union. you felt like you had lost a lot, like you had lost everything, like you had failed. maybe, you were the failure, and rafe, the problem. but also, maybe, he was the failure and you, the problem.

and you hated not knowing what was going on in rafe's head, you hated that no one on this earth could figure it out, and that even rafe himself didn't know it. he was crazy, he was sick but that wasn't all, it couldn't be just that.

you gave up the fight, going to the bathroom to take a bath. you needed some peace because the house didn't feel like a home anymore.

sometimes wheezie would call you to see if you were okay, she had grown up, and you lied to her all the time. because it hurt so much to be two in a relationship, but not feel like you were a part of it anymore. and the worst part of it all was that you could kill yourself for just one minute of affection, just one second of happiness, just one moment in the past when everything was okay. where rafe was still the sweet little boy you knew. but the stories were not meant to have a happy ending.

it was hard this feeling, this lack when he still lived with you in this terrible house. but one day you'll be the reason he won't come home again. but you would always call home. you promised yourself. because it would always be yours.

rafe had joined you in the bathtub. and you could tell by his red and empty eyes, his blank stare that he had been crying. he cried and he was not the drugs, he was you, only you.

and you didn't mention it. you didn't say anything. you preferred to stay smart and not start another fight.

“the walls could break down with so much screams. ” you said, laughing slightly.

“maybe we should sell the house. ”

“i like this house. i feel at home here. i have nowhere to go. ” you lied for the two first, but not for the last.

and it was true. you had built everything, paved everything here. you had remade a world. you couldn't leave, you couldn't leave anything. and above all, you were too tired to leave.

it would be a lie to say that you didn't had sex in the bathtub, that you didn't feel his tears on your shoulder, that you didn't feel his thrusts get harder each time a sob broke out his empty eyes, that you didn't feel how much he was breaking every time you took pleasure. because, it was hard for him to seeing you being happy. because it was so hard to take care of you. because it was so hard to feel loved and being loved. you were both too young, too stupid, too sick for love.

and rafe wanted to make you happy without sex, without all this selfish sex. no, he wanted to make you happy by some casual things. but sometimes, you pissed him off so bad to the point, he wanted to leave. but how can a man who hoped to be loved can leave the woman who promised to cherish him ? it was too tired, too angry, and too unsteady to leave. you broke him too. and it was sad for him, because you were the only one he was not scared to tell it hurts.

but at six in the morning you were fighting again as if it were a ritual, a need, a desire to destroy each other, as if sometimes love needed to be violent and destructive to work. actually, for freaks like you, surely.

“why did you throw my fucking drugs down the toilet?! ”

“because you don’t need that!” ”

“you don’t know what i need, you barely know what i want! you had no fucking right to do that. ”

“ don't be a crybaby ! ”

“ repeat. i dare you to repeat. ”

“crybaby! you're a fucking crybaby, rafe! your new personality changes nothing about the boy you were and will always be! what, you don't like the truth ? bad for you, i'm about to tell you what everyone doesn't want to tell you. because i'm not scared at all of you ! you're a fucking crybaby ! ”

“ but you're still here, you're still fucking here. because you know what ? i'm maybe a crybaby, but i'm a river worth wading. and this is why, you're standing in front of me with all this confidence. you wanted a broken man, you wanted someone to fix ? then come on baby, i'm here, i'm watching you, i'm listening, i'm literally at your feets, fix me ! fix the little boy you wanted, make him better. ”

“ rafe…”

“no, i'm asking you now who do you think you are? do you think that because you have this attitude, it doesn't make you a little girl who needs her daddy? because damn, yes, you need him. but i fear daddy was the only one who didn't need you because guess what ? he left. and you make all the men leave around you ! but the difference between us is that you care. when i fucking dont care.”

“ you're sick, a sick asshole. and don't touch me ! ” you pushed him away, but he came back, his hand on your throat. “ but you're the sick one who loves me, remember that ?” he answered.

“ but do you think i still love you ? ” you said with a smirk, taking pleasure to see his widen eyes. “ i'm asking you right now, do you think i still love you, and if one day, someone will like you like i do ? it would be so hard for you to find happiness after me, i can promise you this. you will fight a lot. because ? can you see ? can you see i can breathe without you, i can live without you ? but you, can you do this ? yes, you can fight, you can scream and shout but what else ? ”

“ it doesn't hurt, y/n. it doesn't hurt. and you can't break me, as you can't fix me. ”

“ then why are you crying, big boy ? why are those tears for, if not for me ? ”

“ i built a home for you, i did everything for you. ”

“ and then what ? ”

“ don't make me regret it, y/n. don't make me regret the only good thing i've made well in my life, just don't make me regret...this. you don't understand. why did every house i'm in never felt like home ? ”

“ you destroy everything, rafe. but me too, i guess. the difference is that you have an excuse, a reason for being like that. your dad fucked up with you. and i hate him for that. if he had loved you correctly, you would have known and learned how to love people, how to be attached to them. but you don't know any of that, you don't know what it is to love, and to be loved. everything i do for you, you could call it love, even when i'm mean. but it's false, love is tender, it's beautiful. but you know, i think i'm sick because i also like the way you love me, this violence, this rage, this impulsiveness, it drives me crazy but it makes me alive. so, do you think you could do it again? ”

“ why you didn't leave, why you never leave ? ”

“ because it's our house. we're stuck in forever. this is our house in nebraska, our only heaven. now be a good boy and cry a little for me, i think i'm going away a little...” you said, taking him in your arms, your hand placed on his back, and your hand pressed to his cheek. “don’t worry, i cry a lot too. all the time, even when you make me happy. ” you shushed him, bursted in tears in the hug.

you kissed him on the corner of his lips, your mouth meeting his tears, before he joined you in this kiss, you felt his sad and salty tongue against yours, his hands came squeeze your waist.

but now in the present, you were alone. the house still existed but it was just you.

you weren't sleeping anymore, because you kept hoping that he would come home, you were hoping that he would come home late at night.

but you were alone in a dirty and cold mattress. and you prayed for him hoping he was okay. the phone was broken but you were hoping to hear it ring, the door was open and you were waiting for a sign.

nothing was right, everything was wrong. you just wanted to say to rafe that he had you, that he had a house, and his home missed him, like nobody ever does in his life.

you didn't realize that you had been lying all this time, and that you were silently dying. but at least you died, only his.

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blckbrrybasket · 5 months ago

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Good Luck, Babe.

Robin Buckley x Fem!Lesbian!Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: no use of y/n, mentions of sex, underage drinking/smoking, fluff, angst, jealousy, allusions to a physical fight, reader is in denial, wingman Steve, childhood friends to strangers to lovers

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Robin and you have been best friends since you were kids. You offer to help her learn how to kiss…looking back on it now, there was no way you could have had a different ending.

Inspired by Good Luck, Babe by Chappell Roan

Knowing Robin was a privilege. So many people mischaracterized her as a weird band kid, and she was, but she was also so much more than that. She was the girl who wished she was older to be free, who stared mindlessly at the ceiling when she was bored, and the girl who stubbornly slept through her growing pains to ignore them. Maybe it was just you who looked deeper and for that, you couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to know her profoundly. For some inexplicable reason, you wanted to know her inside and out. Maybe that was why you had offered to help her practice kissing.

“It’s for whatever guy you’re interested in!” Robin snorted in incredulousness, “I am not interested in a guy.” How true of a statement that was. You groaned and shook her shoulders. “Okay! Then whoever you eventually like will be thanking me one day after we teach each other how to kiss.” Robin paused with a surprised expression, eyebrows sliding up her forehead. Holy shit, you were serious. Not kind of serious, still second-guessing serious, but one hundred percent wanting it serious.

She scoffed and turned her nose up. “I think you mean your future bachelors will be thanking me.” Falling back on banter was her only move to pretend she wasn’t as nervous as she was. “Robin!” You snapped back only to watch her fall back against your carpet laughing. Shushing her, you laid back against the floor to look at her. Once her slightly nervous giggling died down she shyly nodded. “Yeah, okay. Do you use tongue though?” Robin wrinkled her nose at her own inquiry. She’d heard girls talk about it before but she couldn’t see the appeal. “It sounds like it would feel gross.”

“Like a wet..snake slithering-” “Ew! No!” You pushed Robin away, careful not to knock over your fort, as you sat up. She snickered and mirrored your position, knees pressed together as you sat in front of each other. “It’s…nice.” You imagined. You had only kissed one person with tongue. David had just barely grazed your tongue with his when he’d grown too eager and immediately jammed his tongue into your mouth. You had to resist grimacing at the memory, hand fiddling unsurely with the flap of the makeshift red tent you sat in. “It feels good,” you tried to reaffirm. Robin tilted her head in curiosity. “So how do we do it?”

An age-old question that apparently nobody had the answers for. “You just kind of do. Don’t worry about it, you’ll know when you’re doing it right.” Creeping closer to when you’d be kissing her you felt the need to sit up straighter and run a hand through your hair, shit did you brush your teeth recently? The thoughts were knocked out of your head once Robin leaned in closer, a hand bracketing your cheek like she had seen in the movies.

Most people would have been nasty or blatantly disliked her, but you never did. You always saw her for who she was. Robin was thankful she had such a good best friend, yet she was unsure as to why the word ‘friend’ hurt her to say. Feeling the high of her emotions for you she leaned in. It wasn’t enough to dismiss her second thoughts, although your lips brushing against hers automatically shut her brain up. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she pressed forward to slide your lips completely together. Unlike seeing the couples on screen or imagining kissing a boy this felt right.

Robin remembers how her cheeks burned after you had kissed. If only you’d known how deeply her heart beat for you. It was a kiss or two, but it was enough to seal you in her heart. Unfortunately, the perfect bubble of that night would pop and become a memory after you two had grown apart.

Despite popular belief (Steve’s belief), the kiss wasn’t what caused you to become distant. You made no move to come out though. Hell, you didn’t even know yet. It was hard to decipher why you liked boys unless they gave you attention back. You never felt like that with Robin, but how could you? She was Robin Buckley. You were sure you would love her forever but that was what made it scary. That may have been a part of why you two weren’t as close anymore, but not a majority of the reason. She got new friends and so did you. Childhood best friends grow older and become different people, it happens all the time.

But Robin couldn’t let you go, so she held on for as long as she could. You tried your best to delay the inevitable, but you two were worlds revolving in different solar systems, so you watched each other's lives from afar. It was a weary dance, knowing you couldn’t stop the change. Robin felt the same, having seen you grow before her eyes. She loved how you used to go to parties to just hang out with her. She also remembered when that began to change, how you were invited to go play games, happily pulling Robin along. You hadn’t noticed the expressions on your new friends' faces. You didn’t realize that they didn't want Robin there, but she had. She always knew.

It was clear you were trying to not get drunk tonight. Neither you nor Robin tried to get inebriated when you attended sleepaway camp. Being older now meant most kids your age snuck out to play games and drink, but it never appealed to you. Nights like those were reserved for the sleepovers you had together. So it was another night where you stayed glued to Robin’s hip, sipping at a concoction that no doubt held more mixer than actual alcohol. What you didn’t expect was for Vicki to flounce over and beg you to join the circle for seven minutes in heaven. You never got invited to those sorts of games. One of your hands was pulled into Vicki’s, Robin’s eye twitching at the action.

As always though you looked to Robin first. “Come on Robs, it could be fun!” Robin scrunched her nose up before sighing heavily and sliding her hand into your outstretched one. She wished she hadn’t agreed to do this. A part of her brain screamed to leave as soon as she took your hand, but the other part of her wanted to go along with it. The moment you sat side by side she could feel eyes on her that weren’t yours. She imagined you could feel it too with how you hesitantly released her hand.

Robin’s shoulders raised, trying to shrink into herself more as she leaned back. Who was she kidding being here? She burned holes into the carpet while she zoned out, only partially paying attention to the music playing. It was easy to pretend she didn’t care when she didn’t have to look at you. One by one people had their turns when the bottle was finally passed to you. Instantly Robin’s eyes rose to watch you through the pieces of hair that fell into her face. She could tell you were nervous. The small shake of your hand gave you away. Robin would bet a million dollars that nobody else noticed your patterns like she did. That fact didn’t stop the bottle from landing on your ex David.

From what she knew he had not been a good boyfriend to you or any girl he dated. He didn’t try. Sure, she knew it was seven minutes in heaven and not dating but it couldn’t stop her from wanting to remind you how badly he sucked. A vicious feeling churned in her gut as she saw him help you up. It continued to boil within her once David held open the closet door for you. The slow shutting of it felt like a countdown till she inevitably shot up from her seat.

There was nobody she had to make an excuse for why she was leaving, she simply grabbed her bag and left for your shared cabin. No one batted an eye. Of course, she wouldn’t know how you awkwardly sat in the closet, not wanting to kiss him. You knew if you kissed him it wouldn’t feel like what it did when you kissed Robin. It was one of the first times you could remember being so scared about your sexuality.

That was also the first time Robin had been so jealous about who you hung out with. She wished she was a better person who didn’t care about what you did. It didn't affect her, so why did it? If she had dwelled on it further perhaps she’d remembered the hasty kisses you exchanged when wine drunk at sleepovers. How pretty you looked when you were splayed out on her bed, pulling her closer as you cuddled to sleep off the drinks. But by the time the sun rose neither of you would remember what happened on nights like those. So reasons continued to pile up for why you pretended you were someone different and reasons for why Robin grew more possessive.

You felt like a fraud. Did you even have a reason to feel like that? No one else in your life questioned you, except Robin was anything but thorough. You could see the look in her eyes. You knew she was questioning things. Unlike her, you didn’t want to know. The world wasn’t built for people like you, so you settled on becoming someone else. However, Robin could always tell when you were switching to a different personality. The first thing she noticed was that you smiled less when you were around new friends and that you did everything in your power to subtly avoid guys approaching you. There were two reasons why that was; A. you were a lesbian or B. you’re dating David.

Robin chewed noisily on her banana runts that were more than likely damaging her teeth. “So you and David..?” She hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. When you had come back from the closet to discover her gone you had been immediately worried, going to your cabin right after. Your voice floating up to Robin’s top bunk did little to calm her nerves when she admitted she wasn’t feeling fine. She never wanted to lie, but if you believed she was sick she wouldn’t say otherwise. It had blown over rather quickly when you saw no need to press further. Robin, however, couldn’t stop thinking about what might’ve happened that night and what was to come from it.

“Ugh, no,” Came your fast retort. “It’s not like that! He’s just…nice.” Was that possibly the best thing you could come up with? To be fair, it wasn’t like he was much more than that. Fling or no fling he would never have a long-lasting impression on your life. When you were seventy and living with Robin and your pets you wouldn’t think back to him. He was fleeting. “So there’s no guy..or girl?” Robin wanted to include the latter to see if you would say anything about it. No one had ever claimed she was sneaky.

You huffed out a breath and shook your head. “Dunno why you’re so invested, didn’t you say you didn’t want to imagine me in a relationship?” Robin flushed. “Well yeah! I don’t want to know when you’re kissing other people!” Neither of you picked up on her mistake. “Okay, then don’t ask!” You teased, but there was more to it. You didn’t want to tell her about your romantic endeavors. There wasn’t a sure explanation as to why, but you knew for sure you didn’t want her speculating who you were with.

However, Robin wanted more answers. She always did. All the Nancy Drew novels she read as a kid always got the best of her. But she also knew there was more to it than that. She saw what you were covering up, it was the same thing she did when you hugged her. Trying to still your beating heart. You were one and the same and yet neither of you would take the leap to admit it for a long time.

Robin had gotten there first. After another year going by of secret glances and steering clear of the Victoria’s Secret catalog. It was like the models could feel her looking! Aside from that, things had been going smoothly. She was beginning to figure herself out and she loved who she was. Robin wanted you to love who she had become as well. You were the obvious choice to come out to first. Okay, you weren’t as close as you had once been, but you still saw each other often! If anyone were to understand it would be you. You knew Robin the longest out of everyone in her life, besides her parents. Unfortunately, the day she planned to tell you, your family was hosting a soirée that foiled her plans.

It was supposedly a small get-together with a few tens more people than you expected. The only good thing to come from the crowd was that the home bar was open. You could easily sneak behind the counter, remembering how you and Robin used to. Was she coming tonight? Thinking on it briefly you turned and ducked behind the counter, grabbing a bottle. It wasn't a second later when someone called your name scoldingly. You jumped with a start only to hit your head on the edge of the cabinets. “Oh shit,” Robin gasped.

“Robin! You ass!” You hissed and grabbed her hand to pull you up off the ground. Robin stifled a laugh, dodging your swipe at her, guiding the bottle in your hand to the counter. It was all in good fun how Robin slashed her other hand out to grab your side. The jabs only pulled more giggles from you before you grabbed Robin’s waist and pulled her entirely behind the counter. “Come on! I was going to- oh hey, Tommy.” You leaned against the counter, acting innocent. “Hey ladies, I heard some noise down here. You alright?”

From the way his eyes only stayed on you, it was clear that he was only checking on you. Trying not to cringe at his opener you nodded. “We’re fine, Thomas. You can be on your way now.” He frowned, almost the pout of a petulant child. Like most boys his age, he was not used to being shut down. “And if I want a drink?” Tommy smirked and moved to lean against the counter. Your lips sucked in, pulling into a straight line. “There’s drinks in the kitchen. I think you’ll manage.” To cement your point you pointed your finger towards the kitchen before shooing him away.

Robin stifled a laugh at him stomping away. “What? You didn’t like him?” She joked, leaning on the countertop beside you. “God no. Him? I don’t like boys.” The admission slipped out without the logical part of your brain thinking. You hadn’t ever focused on that fleeting thought, purposefully ignoring it. The slip-up didn’t go unnoticed though, your body becoming rigid. “I-I like men,” you coughed out. “You know, not boys. They’re too immature.” A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you attempted to cover up. “You can tell me.” Robin returned.

It was an olive branch, a hope that you would take it and tell her what plagued you. Naturally, that didn’t happen. “There’s nothing to tell.” As if you could read Robin’s mind you continued on. “I’m straight.” The finality in your tone was overlooked by Robin. “I would never judge you. You know that right?” You sighed heavily and glanced at her. “That’s great Robin, but I’m straight. I don’t know what to tell you. I could kiss any girl and feel no different.” It was a challenge you felt Robin would be forced to turn down. Surely she wouldn’t step up to it.

Little did she know that you were projecting and suppressing how you felt, which was the complete opposite. Nevertheless, at seventeen neither of you knew when to quit. “Then do it.” Robin retorted. You scoffed and raised an eyebrow at her. “You seriously want to see me kiss a girl?” Robin jutted her chin out and nodded. “Fine. Kiss me, it’s not like we haven’t already.” The room felt tilted at your dare. You couldn’t be serious, but the glint in your eye told Robin you were.

This couldn’t end well. Anyone could have told you that and the both of you would have still gone through with it. You both knew it was different now. You were grown up with no excuses as to why this would happen and yet here the two of you stood playing into the dangerous game. “Okay.” You appeared staggered and Robin smirked at you, flicking your arm. “Like you said, dingus, we already have.” Nodding shyly you stepped up to Robin, toe to toe, you rolled your eyes with a smile. “Alright Buckley, try to woo me.” In any other atmosphere, she would have cackled, instead she lightly grabbed your waist and leaned in. She had waited too long to beat around this anymore.

Lucky for her and you, no one walked in. They continued to avoid the room as Robin kissed you softly. The year or so gone by had certainly made a difference in how her lips knew how to move against yours. Your gasp was swallowed by her, your lips moving slowly. How desperately you wanted to bury your hands in her hair and kiss her till her lips swelled. The thought alone is what snapped you out of your fantasy. As you hastily pulled away Robin sighed and ducked her head. She knew it was coming, she knew it was a dumb decision to fall for her straight best friend. “Did I woo you?” She joked.

“Mhm,” you winked. “Enough for me to take a shot.” It was no more than a joke, but Robin could see how the light in your eyes had dimmed. “What are you doing?” Robin whispered. It hurt her to see you like this. No matter how much you tried to hide she would always find out eventually. She knew it wasn't the first or last time you would do something like this. Melancholy pulled at her heart as she studied you. How long would this last, if it ever stopped? “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking a shot.”

Your tone was too cheery for the grim look on your face. “Seriously?” Robin countered. Deep down she knew it was her fault for entertaining the idea. You couldn’t have known she had been in love with you for years. If you had, you would have never joked about kissing her. Logically, she knew it. She just wished it would change and a bit of her wished you would change. “Yes, seriously.” When you looked at her so wearily the anger all but vanished from her. “Do you want a shot or not Robin? It’s fine if you don’t want one, I can drink enough for the both of us.” Robin shook her head, looking away while chewing on her bottom lip.

In an instant, the conversation was over, whatever was happening between you shifted. She walked behind you, out from the home bar, and walked to the three steps to take her back to the main house. “Tell your parents I say hi.” With that, she walked up the steps a little too harshly and left you alone to stare down at the alcohol.

That was one of the last conversations you held before finally, and silently, parting ways. If there was a tragedy hall of fame you swore that moment was etched in it forever. No one knew why you and Robin sat farther apart in classes. Those who knew least of all were your parents. They still spoke to each other frequently, Robin’s distance not taking too much of a toll on their friendships. As expected they spoke about the split, never able to understand what happened. They gathered no information from the pair of you. Neither you nor Robin would speak a negative word about the other.

Now, imagine Steve’s surprise when Robin first told him how you were the girl she was in love with. He was still that shocked about it after knowing for months. It wasn’t hard to see why though. Steve remembered you as the smart popular girl who wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand to someone in need. Sweet, but not a pushover. Even now he still finds it hard to believe, harder to believe that the two of you kissed. He wasn’t one to judge, no, but you had a boyfriend to his knowledge and Steve was (is) a little…surprised…was all. It’s not every day that your friend is practically in the plot of a movie.

“Okay okay, but you guys kissed, right? Isn’t that enough of a sign that she likes you?” Steve’s pointer finger moved the tab of his beer can around and around across the metal opening. “No it’s not dingus- stop that.” Robin swatted Steve’s hand to stop him from making the terrible screeching noise. “Even if she did, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t like me now. We haven’t held a conversation since what? Graduation?”

“Which was last week.” Steve snorted at Robin’s drama. It wasn’t a wonder that she was a theatre kid. “Still!” She protested and flopped back on the pool chair. Her eyes studied the way the moonlight rippled on the pool’s water reflecting on a time that you would have tugged her along to stare at the night sky. Steve followed her view and sighed if he had to hear one more goddamn time about how you liked the moon. He had no doubt you were a sweet person but one thing Robin didn’t know how to do was shut up, and that factored into how much she spoke about you.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek to think of something. “Look. It’s the week after graduation, there are tons of parties happening right now. How about we go out, find you a nice girl, and get your mind off her.” Before graduation, Robin had truly thought she was over you. Sure, you still sent her a dazzling smile in the halls and she tripped into a trash can once because she swore she saw you check her out, but it was nothing. You didn’t want her and by god, she would force herself to not want you.

That was until she saw you cross the stage at graduation, waving enthusiastically at your friends. Until you cheered the loudest for her when they called her name. It didn’t make sense to others, why one of the star cheerleaders was shrieking happily for the nerdy, band kid, but it didn’t seem to phase you. Nothing did. So it made it hard for Robin to wonder why you still had a boyfriend.

Were you truly not gay? Had her hopes been misplaced? She hadn’t expected you to shout it from the rooftops, but she’d hoped that you would have told her before you two drifted. Or it was possible you liked both guys and girls? However, the thought didn’t seem to make sense with how you talked about boys. Even when you were just beginning to date boys you had mentioned offhandedly that girls were always better than boys.

“Men aren’t supposed to be as pretty as girls so it's okay…I wish they wouldn’t be so gross though.” In her younger mind, it made sense, though years later it didn’t seem to be foolproof. Even when guys were begging you for a date you brushed them off. Then came the unavoidable boyfriend that would stick for a month or two until you broke up and you were single for an extended period again.

Mulling over it Robin groaned and lolled her head to the side. She was tired of being hung up on what-ifs. “Fine. But the moment I’m bored we leave.” Steve clapped his hands, jostling the beer can that now sat in his lap. “There we go, that’s what I’m talking about!” He shot up to high-five Robin only to spill his beer onto his lap. “Ah, shit!” Robin smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. “Might want a change of jeans, Cupid.” “Oh fuck off.”

For a second it fell quiet except for Steve’s mumbled curses as he rubbed at his pants. The ever-growing stain only spread against his wiping. “Jesus, fine, but tomorrow you have to promise you’ll come with me.” Blue eyes rolled to the side and Robin reluctantly nodded. “Promise. Now I’m headed to your guest bedroom if you don’t mind. Don’t go to sleep covered in beer!” She hopped up with a grin and dashed inside. “It’d help if I had a towel! Hello! Hello? …Robin?”

Ignoring him, Robin took two steps at a time up the stairs excited to be tucked in bed. No matter how many times she jokingly complained about the bed in the guest room she always slept better at Steve’s house. He didn’t mind though, the company was nice to fill his empty house. Besides, when Robin remembered to wash the guest sheets Steve could shove his own sheets in her laundry load.

She slammed the door shut and flopped on the bed to stare at the stagnant ceiling fan. One night. One party and it would be fine. You would be far away from her mind. Squeezing her eyes closed, Robin could almost convince herself of it. She rolled over, tucking her hand under her chin not bothering to get into the pajamas she’d left here a million times before.

If she knew what the next night held for her, her restless sleep would have turned into no sleep. At her core Robin was an overthinker.

The next morning was usual and unsuspecting. Burnt eggs made by Steve who threw them out and settled on making coffee. Thankfully this Saturday was free of work shifts, unfortunately, that also meant Steve finding out where the nearest party was happening tonight. Subsequently, it had Steve stressing over what they would wear. Robin swore he cared more about their outfits than she did and she wouldn’t be wrong in the assumption. When it came to putting Robin out there Steve would put blood, sweat, and tears into it.

“It’s a party Steve, not tea with the queen.” Robin spun in a chair at her desk. Shortly after breakfast Steve had shoved her into his BMW and sped to her house. She had sworn up and down that it wasn’t a big deal, but to Steve it was. When he first began being so nice to her she thought it was because she helped him with flirting, then because she saved people from Russians, and then got him a job on top of all of it. To Robin’s pleasant surprise and delight it was because Steve actually enjoyed her company.

Due to his experience, and care for Robin, Steve was determined to make this go well. He knew how nerve-wracking it could be to try and flirt with girls. Trust him, he knew, but he also knew there was another level he wouldn’t understand. All he could do was base things on his experiences and if this was going to go according to plan he was going to make sure Robin looked good.

Steve planted his hands on his hips and twisted towards Robin. “Can you at least try to care? This is for you.” Robin’s lips pursed, moving from side to side before she sighed heavily. She raised a limp hand to point in the direction of a shirt. “Those with my black jeans.” Steve turned and nodded at the garment, pulling it off the hanger and tossing it onto the bed. “Good choice,” he commented, going to rummage for her jeans. “Yeah, well, it was her choice.” Neither of them needed to clarify to know she was talking about you. Steve’s lips pulled into a frown. “Tonight will be good.” He tried to weakly assert. She hoped it would be.

Comparatively to Robin’s morning, yours was soon to be boring. There was no excitement for the millionth party you would be attending and definitely no surprise breakfast to wake up to. If you had known that was even an option your brain would have whisked you away in daydreams to what life could be like. In reality, you woke up far before the sun did, a routine you had formed over the last year. The few hours between you waking up and the sun rising was your safe haven. It was a comfortable silence that permitted you to slow down life and take in your surroundings.

Today you settled for staring at your boyfriend in front of you, studying his facial features. He was by no means ‘ugly’. By all standards he was conventionally attractive, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to yearn for him. The movies had infiltrated your head making you think love should be a whirlwind that swept you off your feet. Weren’t you supposed to burn for him, or at least crave to be in his presence? You couldn’t even bring yourself to come, having to fake your orgasm for him last night like always. You knew his ego would take a huge hit if you admitted this so you stayed silent.

It wasn’t him per se. It also wasn’t you though. You could come but not when you were with a man. It was always too much, not enough, too man-ish. If that made sense, which it didn’t. None of it did. What made it worse was the way your mind constantly wondered. Why did your brain keep drifting back to comparing every fling to Robin? She was gone. You wouldn't be hung up on losing a friend. She was a good example of a strong relationship, platonic sure, but it was something you subconsciously based your romantic relationships on. No one met the expectations though.

You never felt truly thrilled to be with who you were dating. Up until you had to exchange affection you were into it. Don’t get it wrong, you did feel something for who you dated but you weren’t sure what it was. It scared you too much to think about your boyfriend deeply, or any other man you had been with. How you wished he’d somehow feel the shift in the universe that you were now awake and wake up to smile at you like Robin used to.

Perhaps he’d stay up and talk about nothing for hours. None of it had to make sense you wanted it for the connection. Why could he not read your mind or simply go out of his way to do something meaningful for you without you having to ask? You were so tired of not having that connection with men. It became easier for you to find a woman and become close friends instantly! Men made it so hard.

And as if all the planets fell into alignment the breath was punched from your lungs. Fuck. Why now? Why did you suddenly figure it out now? In the end, it made sense, how had you been so blind? Staring at the ceiling you couldn't picture anything else in your head except the women you have loved in your life. Not friends or family, but loved loved. And every scene came back to Robin. You were choking. Maybe not literally, but there was no escape from the realization. Had you always known and simply forced yourself to hide it?

Unable to stop the rushing questions all you could focus on was how you ended up here. You never listened, not even to your own heart. Was this all life would be if you continued down this path? Men who pulled it together enough to have an average life, but never being able to fully love them. Realization after another, you recognized that you didn’t want to be next to a man when you walked down the aisle. You couldn’t. It felt like handing your life over. Ending something that had barely begun.

Looking back at Robert, there was no stopping the jolt of your body. It felt subconscious like it was telling you to run and never look back. From the dreadful feeling weighing you down, you supposed the earth had stopped turning and you could run straight off the edge of it. You wiggled back until you were close enough out from under the covers and stumbled out of bed. You couldn't look at him anymore, prying your eyes away to look at anything else. They scanned his familiar room for what could be the millionth time and you only felt sadness. Would your future home be decorated like this? Mediocre decorations with no touch of what felt like home. Forever compromising on how you wanted to feel.

It had barely registered in your mind that you had left his room, near running down the stairs and out of his house like a hookup who stayed over too late. You didn't know where to go. In another life, you would have legged it to Robin’s house but in this life, your feet carried you towards your home. The home where you had sleepovers in buried hopes that you’d uncover each other's secrets and sleep with legs and arms intertwined, pretending it was a hug. God, it was innocent and you craved to go back. You coveted your younger self for being filled with such innocent love for others. At the same time, you hated how buried your love became, concealed by fear.

Years of your life had passed by without you realizing who you truly were. You silently begged the universe to make it better, whatever that meant. Bare feet hitting the pavement echoed against the looming houses of the neighborhood. What would someone think if they saw you running like hell was on your heels? Would it compare to the shock of what they would hear if they could see into your brain?

It seemed like seconds of running when you made it to your house, but judging by the brightening sky and the burning of your feet it had been much longer. You wanted to go back to the way you had been. It wasn’t shame, or not entirely. It was an odd limbo of wanting so desperately for itself to work out that you’d beg to go back to denying it. What good would that do though? All you could do was take a hot shower and relax before the party. You were still going with Robert, knowing you’d get an earful later for leaving in the middle of the night, but you were incapable of caring at this point.

His loss. Seriously, his loss. Without you dating him you’d feel freer and he would plead for another chance to be a good boyfriend this time. You wanted to piece yourself back together by taking back the power he had unknowingly stolen from you. He was good sometimes, but you didn't deserve ‘sometimes’. Unexpected anger filled you as you closed your front door. Was it better or worse that you had discovered you were a lesbian when dating him instead of a good guy? “Oh honey!” your mother started, catching a glimpse of your expression from the kitchen table. “Did you and Robert fight again?” The familiarity of her thinking you and Robert fought again had your heart plummeting. There was thinly veiled ‘Is Robert mad at you again?’ under her question.

You weakly shook your head. “No ma’am, I'm okay…just tired.” A comforting smile appeared on your mother’s face as she beckoned you over. “Come here, sweetheart.” Compliantly, you walked closer to her and leaned down to feel her hand on your cheek. Something was bothering you, she could see that much. “I’m so proud of you.” Immediately you wanted to spill everything. You wanted her to hold you like you were a little girl again and have her tell you that everything would be okay. Suddenly you became aware that you were mourning the future you were guaranteed from a kid. It was a piece of yourself that you lost, but you were also gaining another piece of yourself. Bittersweet.

You wanted her to love this new part of yourself as much as she loved every other piece of you. She pressed her lips to the crown of her head like she could read your mind. She was trying her best to solve your troubles with how she knew too. “I love you, my sweet baby girl.” Tears stung at the backs of your closing eyes. “I love you,” you wanted to whisper back, instead staying quiet out of fear of what you might admit. She nodded in time with you with a sweet laugh. “Now go clean up and knock them dead.” Your mother looked up from where she sat and winked at you as you went round the corner. “Those boys won’t know what hit them!”

But they were never who you wanted. How could you tell someone that when they’ve known you as a different person your whole life? You knew your mom wouldn't hesitate to die for you, that’s what you chose to hang onto as you headed for the shower you hoped would wash away your anxiety. She still loved you. Unbeknownst to you, she would never jeopardize that love. You were her child forever.

The shower had washed away some of your stress of the day, renewing you to a point that you could go out. That’s how you found yourself working your pants over your hips, doing little hops to slide the denim on. After the small workout, you huffed and threw things out of your closet to get a shirt. By the time a tornado looked like it had passed through your room, you resorted to digging through your basket of clean clothes, grabbing a cropped jersey Robert had given you. A thought nagged the back of your brain saying not to wear it because it was his, but you threw it on anyway. It was cute and would fit the vibe of the party.

It was a simple outfit but there was no way you were trying to woo anybody tonight. Hopefully, it would ward people off from talking to you. You didn't even want to woo Robert. A thought for a later date. Checking your alarm clock you realized it was an hour till the party with no sign of Robert. Your gut yelled at you to call him. Fuck you wished you didn’t have to. What if you walked? In that case, he could show up and wonder why you ignored him, or he could try to pick you up after you had already left the house. It left too many questions without answers.

Regrettably, calling him was the best option for transportation. You were not in a family who could spare your unlicensed person driving their car around. Stepping out of your bedroom you were met with silence. The house was empty aside from you padding to the landline in the kitchen. A note was left on the refrigerator reminding you of your parents' date night. Nerves nipped at you as you swiped your sweaty palms down your thighs and forced yourself to dial his number.

One, two, three, four rings later, “Hello?” Your teeth sink into the tip of your thumbnail. Yup, he sounded mad. “Hey, Rob!” You tried to chirp, voice unnaturally high. “Oh, are you talking to me now?” “What? I thought we were going to the party tonight…aren’t you coming to get me?” Robert being mad at you was a more than common occurrence. This was one of the more uncommon times when you had done something. “I thought you were mad at me.” he deadpanned, “No note. No warning. You were gone. What was I supposed to think? It’s embarrassing! Do you know how embarrassing that is?” He pressed on.

You fought off a sigh in response, trying to muster up a kinder retort. “I’m sorry Rob, seriously. I’ll make it up to you at the party. …I promise.” he sighed heavily, voice becoming soft again. “I don't think I can drive somebody who acts like that. Will I see you there?” Great. Great, great, great. Robert clicked his tongue sympathetically, acting as if it hurt him as much as he expected it to hurt you.

You didn’t dare ask if he was driving you again. “Yeah. See you then, I guess.” Dejection was far from your tone yet Robert failed to take a hint. “I’m sorry.” His apology fell flat. You couldn't bring yourself to be upset at his roundabout breakup. The dial tone answered him as you slammed the phone back on the receiver.

So much for having a ride.

Figuring out a last-minute ride should not have been as difficult as it was. Apparently, when you drop off the face of the earth for a few days after graduation everyone thinks you’ve left them to die. Thankfully Tina had her convertible detailed on Wednesday and was more than happy to show it off. A little sucking up and a vague explanation later you had a brand new ride who was trying to get you to shove it in Robert’s face that you didn’t need him. And what better way to do that than driving you to the party?

Initially, you didn’t intend to get this far into things. Maybe a small catch-up chat and a shot to appease her, but it seemed Tina’s personal mission was to get you hammered. It was all she talked about on the drive over. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped out of Tina's convertible, the engine purring below you. Music and laughter were already spilling out from the open windows. Tina looped her arm through yours, “Come on, let's show that loser Robert what he's missing!”

You smiled back at her, allowing yourself to be swept up by her. “Lead the way,” you replied, playing along. The two of you pushed through the people congregating on the front lawn. Tina's grip on your arm tightened as she guided you through the chaos, her eyes alight with a determined gleam. “There’s the keg over there!” Tina exclaimed and pointed towards the driveway.

“That sounds amazing, Tina,” you spoke, raising your voice above the chaos. “Just give me a moment? I'm going to...powder my nose.” You punctuated your statement with a conspiratorial wink, knowing full well that Tina assumed you had somebody to go meet up with. Tina giggled and winked back, “Hurry up then! Don’t keep him waiting!” She waved and happily drifted towards some girls she recognized by the keg, leaving you to navigate your way.

Dodging a stumbling partygoer who barreled past you and out the front door, you twisted around and made your way backward into the living room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and drinks, a stereo somewhere playing loud music reverberating through the floorboards as bodies danced where a coffee table once stood. A part of you couldn't help but scan the crowd, a lingering instinct to locate Robert. You rolled your jaw, determined to stomp out that fleeting desire.

Your gaze drifted towards the kitchen, and you figured a quick detour for refreshments was in order. Unaware of prying eyes, you hugged the wall, slipping into the relative sanctuary of the kitchen. Finally, a moment to catch your breath and collect your thoughts amidst the chaotic revelry. A familiar face was standing in the kitchen, but they were no one there that you knew well enough. Nowhere near the level of recognition you held for the person who was watching you back.

Robin’s eyes stayed trained on you, having seen you the moment you had walked through the front door. Technically since someone pushed past you to get outside. She was sitting on a pushed-back couch with Steve. Normally he would find somebody to flirt with, yet here he sat debating who would be fit for Robin. His whispers fell on deaf ears, rubbing his chin with one hand. “I swear she’s not straight. Did you know she used to…” Robin’s harsh whisper drowned out the rest of his sentence, “Steve.” His brown eyes flicked to her. “Shit was that bad to say?”

“Steve.” Steve finally took the suggestion and looked up to see you. His eyes widened while he watched you open a bottle and pour some liquid into the cup. Robin’s surprise came at the fact that you weren’t hanging over Robert. That wasn’t completely the jealousy talking. If you showed up at a party you tended to stay by his side the whole time. Whether it was to keep other men away from you or because you liked Robert that much, it also kept Robin at bay from thinking of trying to talk to you. Here you were now, looking unfocused, almost worried before chugging the alcohol.

“You should talk to her.” Steve started. He saw the look in Robin’s eye knowing there was no way around it. “What!? No! Steve, that goes against everything we’re doing tonight!” He knew that more than anyone else, of course, he did. There was no reason for Robin to go back on her word, other than the fact that she was obviously in love with you.

“Look, one conversation. Then you’ll know for sure that you can move on.” Steve reached over, shaking Robin’s shoulder softly to encourage her towards you. “Never know if you don’t try.” Swallowing her fear, Robin admonished Steve. “Remind me to never listen to you ever again dingus. No more plan-making for you.” “And yet you’re walking towards her.” Robin rolled her eyes, walking backward to you.

Once Robin deemed she was almost close enough she turned around to see your spot in the kitchen empty. Her baby blues scanned the house, spotting you heading to the backyard. After seeing you just out of reach she knew she had to speak to you for better or for worse. Robin sped up, pushing through to get to the back door. She could see your rapidly disappearing frame, focusing on how you moved. The wood creaked on the hinges, shutting in front of her face. Being so close to you she suddenly couldn’t bring herself to open the door.

She was being dumb, she knew it. It was one conversation. What harm could it do? Pacing in front of the door Robin barely had enough time to jump out of the way when it swung open. “Shit- sorry!” She called out, stumbling backward out the door. If anything it was the stranger's fault for slamming the door open, that’s what you thought at least. “Robin?”

Time instantly slowed as your quiet voice called her name. She slowly turned towards you, her movements making it seem like she was in doubt if this were truly happening. An awkward smile tugged at the corner of her lips when she caught sight of you sitting on the edge of the porch. The porch light basked you in its soft glow, contrasting the bright moonlight that hit the yard. “Hey..didn't uh see you there,” she offered hesitantly. Robin knew you would be out here, but actually speaking to you made it seem way more real.

“Oh, I thought you were following me.” Robin’s face fell at the blunt statement, her composed facade cracking. “Huh!?” She squawked, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. Her eyes snapped to your face to search it, honing in on the cigarette you pressed to your lips. Not responding right away, a charged silence blanketed you. The only reprieve was the clicking of your lighter that pierced the air, flame roaring to life to light the smoke.

If this was to be the last time she spent in your company, Robin didn't want it to end like that. With a determined set to her jaw, she moved to plop down onto the edge of the porch beside you, swinging her legs over the side inelegantly. You wordlessly tilted your head back, exhaling your smoke away from her, a small gesture that did not go unnoticed. “I didn't know you smoked,” Robin ventured, her gaze transfixed by the way your lips wrapped around the cigarette, pursing and parting with each inhale and exhale.

“Oh yeah, new habit I guess,” you replied nonchalantly, as if the habit were no more remarkable than a new hairstyle. Robin nodded, her eyes trailing over you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Are you-” she began, only to be cut off as you simultaneously attempted to speak. “Do you think-” Your voices overlapped, the words tangling together in a mess. Robin felt her cheeks warm.

“You can go first,” you mumbled, ducking your head in an effort to hide the amused smile that threatened to spread across your features. “Um…” Robin nodded, turning her gaze forward once more as she gathered her thoughts. “What are you doing here without...?” Her voice trailed off as she realized, with discomfort, that she had completely forgotten the name of your boyfriend. She had heard it mentioned once, she was certain, but the name eluded her. It started with an R, didn't it? “Robert,” you filled the gap for her. “Yeah, him!”

You winced visibly at the mention of his name. Lifting a hand to scratch the back of your neck, the cigarette dangling precariously from your taught lips, you hesitated for a moment. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to,” Robin added quickly, noticing you were weighing your words. “No, it's fine,” you assured her, waving off her concern. “We're on a break, I guess? He's pissed at something I did this morning.”

Robin sat up straighter, her curiosity piqued by your cryptic confession. “Oh shit. What'd you do?” Plucking the cigarette from your lips, you took a deep breath of clean air. “I sort of ditched him before he woke up. Ran out of his house... the whole shebang.” As the words left your mouth, you couldn't help but realize how callous they sounded. Robin, however, seemed unfazed by the revelation, barking out a laugh that seemed to echo in the quiet night.

“What!? Why?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with disbelief and amusement. “So many questions,” you teased, unable to resist the urge to deflect, if only momentarily. Robin shook her head, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. It was a known fact that she often pressed for more information. You gave a resigned shrug, not knowing why you found yourself spilling your guts to your old friend who you had barely shared a conversation with in over a year. There was something about her presence, something undeniably safe, that compelled you to open up in a way you hadn't with anyone else.

“Guess I realized something.” Robin knew better than to interrupt now, well versed with the pause you gave before fully voicing the thoughts on your mind. “I don't think he's the one," you admitted at last. Something about the need for clarity had you stubbing your cigarette out. Robin sucked in a sharp breath, her expression one of sympathy. “If it helps, I don't think anyone meets 'the one' in high school,” she spoke matter-of-factly as if stating an indisputable truth. “Plus, that's a dumb reason for him to break up with you.”

“Maybe,” you muttered in response, your voice laced with a heaviness that suggested there was more to the story. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Robin continued, her words laden with sincerity. “You deserve better than that.” She knew you did. You deserved better than all the shitty boyfriends you had put up with. Turning to face her fully, you met her gaze with a look of self-doubt. “Don't know if I do. I kind of fucked up, big time.”

The guilt of having dated and potentially hurt a string of boys while unaware that you were unable to love them formed a lump in your throat. You had only just come to terms with the fact that you might have been a lesbian earlier that morning, but hadn't there been signs all along? Little hints you had chosen to ignore in favor of conforming to societal expectations? You truly did empathize with their feelings, holding the weight of your actions on your shoulders.

“Good people fuck up sometimes,” Robin stated effortlessly. The resolution she offered was so simple. “We're still young, we're going to make mistakes,” she continued. And you would. None of it had been malicious. Of course, Robin would be the one able to slow down your racing mind. You couldn't help but marvel at the depth of her understanding and how she cut through the tangled web of your thoughts with such ease.

“When did you become so wise?” You quipped. “I always have been,” Robin shot back with a sly smile. “You were just too busy being charmed by me to realize.” For a heartbeat, Robin froze, uncertain whether her joke had landed or if she had overstepped a boundary. Then your laughter met her ears, shattering her worry. “Hm. makes sense,” you conceded.

Robin sighed out in relief, your head tilting to rest on her shoulder. She slowly met your head with her own, leaning on top of yours. In the dim lighting, you looked at her feet swinging side by side with yours. Studying the familiar scribbles on her shoes made you feel so comforted. This was just Robin, sweet Robin who held your hands when you were scared to make leaps of faith. A leap of faith. That’s all it was.

“I guess I’m interested in other people.” Robin’s eyebrows furrowed curiously. Taking the moment you confessed before doubt could creep up your spine. “I don't think men are the ones for me.” All the oxygen exited Robin's lungs, however, she clamped her mouth shut, trying to remain cool. “I don’t think they are for me either.” She responded faintly.

“Right? I get it, I do, I mean not really but..” you rambled on, taking a note from Robin’s book. “I feel bad because I dated so many guys. I can’t imagine how they felt when I couldn't give them what they needed.” Robin scoffed in return. “Please, they sucked. They were practically sewer monsters! They’ll get over it,” Robin stated resolutely. You didn’t need to be hung up on boys like that. You laughed at her claim. “Yeah, they're gross.” You agreed.

Talking to her again you realized how easy it was and how much you missed this. “I’m so tired of having to like what they like, do what they do, live in their world!” You huffed and glared up at the sky for an answer to your troubles. “I'm proud of you.” Robin blurted out to your surprise. “You’re proud of me?”

Robin didn’t say many things that shocked you into a stupor anymore, but that was certainly one of them. “Yeah. You’ve kind of become super confident.” “Not at all. I’m still scared,” you exhaled regretfully at your admission. “You can be scared and still be self-assured. You’re like..on the right path, you know?” You blinked in amazement at her awareness. “Robin you are fucking amazing.” At your compliment, it was now her turn to be taken aback. “Oh- thank you.” She coughed with wide eyes.

The connection both of you tried to shove down for so long sparked the moment your eyes locked. In that instant, the world faded away, neither of you caring that anyone could peer through the backdoor. As you gazed into her eyes, it felt as if her soul was laid bare in front of you. “Can I?” you asked, voice filled with longing. “Please,” she responded. With her confirmation, both of you moved forward eagerly, lips colliding. However, a second later a pang of pain quickly interrupted the blissful encounter, causing you both to recoil.

“Ow!” Robin hissed, pressing her hand to her mouth, her inner lips inadvertently having met her teeth. “Oh shit!” you exclaimed, scrambling onto your knees to be closer to her. Gently, you removed her hand, anxiously inspecting her. “I am so sorry. Are you bleeding?”

Your eyes snapped to Robin’s when she failed to respond. Her hand slid across your cheek much like it had the first time years ago. Hiccuped giggles fell from her lips when she edged closer to you. Taking the hint, you followed suit to gently press your lips together. This is what you were looking for. You understood why you had looked for her in other people for so long. You yearned for her.

Robin’s fingers trailed along your skin leaving tingles in their wake. Her hands slowly slid down, one coming to rest on the small of your back with the other holding onto your waist. She was desperate to eliminate any distance between your bodies, pulling you towards her like you were her lifeline. When the need for oxygen became too great to ignore, Robin reluctantly parted from your lips. A soft “Woah” escaped her in a breathless whisper.

“Uh huh, woah,” you mumbled in agreement, blinking as you emerged from your trance. As your senses slowly returned, you turned to face each other, eyes meeting in a shared look of awe. The tension that had been building between you both for so long had finally been released, and the intensity of it left you both giddy with exhilaration. Unable to contain yourselves any longer, you burst into unrestrained laughter, echoing the pure joy you felt in that moment.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed happily. Without a plan or a second thought, you jumped up and grabbed Robin's hand, pulling her up with you. “Let's go,” you said, the words tumbling out in your excitement. Robin's eyes widened at your sudden burst of energy. “What?” she asked. Despite her question she gratefully let you help her up and tug her towards the stairs. “Let's ditch!” you clarified. Robin took one look at the gleam in your eyes and she nodded rapidly, a matching grin spreading across her face as she raced down the stairs with you.

Her grip on your hand tethered you to her as she rounded the corner of the house at a breakneck pace. You stumbled after her, laughing breathlessly, the two of you surely a sight to behold. Anyone would take a look at the two of you and assume you were drunk.

As you burst into the front yard, Steve caught sight of you while he stood on the lawn. His expression grew into one of bemusement as he watched the two of you race past. He beamed at you both, your laughter infectious as you ran down the neighborhood street with no destination in mind. You were in love and it was pure.

Steve placed his hands on his hips, chest bursting with pride. As he watched you disappear he turned back to the shorter figure in front of him. His once soft eyes now held a glint and a not-so-innocent smile. “You’re Robert? Right?”

taglist: @andvys

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neo-techculture · 4 months ago

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Me Or The PS5

Summary:- Your boyfriend has been glued to his PS5 for quite a while now. As his girlfriend, you've been feeling a bit neglected. You've given him an ultimatum - it's either you or the PS5. Now it's up to Colby to decide if he wants to level up in love or in Call of Duty.

Pairing:- Colby Brock x Reader

Warnings:- Slightly suggestive, angst if you squint; like really squint (if you look at it with a binocular or something).

Note:- EVENT: Fics inspired by songs - PS5 (TXT, Salem Ilese & Alan Walker)

It's me or the PS5

"Hey Colbs, are you up for watching a movie?" You inquire as you enter his room, spotting your boyfriend who is shirtless and wearing his glasses, engrossed in a game of COD with Sam and a few other friends. He mutes the mic briefly, glancing your way.

"Not now, love. How about tomorrow?" Not waiting for your answer, he focuses back on the screen. You let out a sigh, feeling a mix of annoyance and disappointment. It's not that you mind him playing on his PS5 with his friends, but it's the fact that this has been going on for almost a week now and you can't help but feel neglected. You've tried to be understanding and not come off as needy, but it's starting to become overwhelming. It's like he's completely immersed in a virtual world.

"Can I sit on your lap?" You ask, thinking he'd be too preoccupied to hear you. Instead, he surprises you by giving you a nod and smiling.

"Of course." He shifts his chair away from his desk, letting you straddle his lap before returning to his game. You rest your head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck, letting out a satisfied sigh. Despite being close, you've been feeling a bit lonely lately. Colby plants a kiss on the side of your head, and you briefly close your eyes, savoring the embrace of your boyfriend. You'd missed this so much.

Making up your mind, you lean back and grab your boyfriend's chin to get his attention.

"Baby-" Colby begins to protest, but you cut him off.

"I'm tired of this, Colby," you start. "You've been doing this for almost a week, and I feel neglected. I've tried to be understanding, but..." you end with a frustrated noise. "So I'm giving you an ultimatum- it's either me or the PS5."

Colby's eyes widen slightly at your words. "Baby, I-"

You cut him off again. "It's either me or the PS5, Colby. I don't have a problem with you playing, but it's the fact that this has been happening for a while now. We've barely spent time together. When was the last time we even went out?"

Colby's heart sank as he realized his actions had caused you to feel neglected and lonely. His palm cupped your face, drawing you in for a kiss before he murmured.

"Love, you realize we're in for a long ride, right? It's not as if I'm keeping secrets or lying. I promise not to make you feel neglected again. Just give me two minutes and I'll give you a trophy."

Your heart flutters. “Two minutes, huh? What kind of trophy are we talking about?”

His hands slide to your waist, and his gaze turns positively devious. “The ‘Best Girlfriend Ever’ award,” he whispers, leaning in for a kiss. “Plus, I’ll throw in a ‘Master of Multitasking’ certificate.”

"Two minutes, baby. I promise," he says again as he leans forward to capture your lips with his.

"Colby, are you there? Cover me, bro." Sam's voice crackles over the speakers. Colby turns back to face you, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Please? I promise to make it up to you, love.

You nod hesitantly. "Promise?"

"Un-huh, you're getting a trophy after this baby. For being so good and understanding." Your boyfriend leans in to kiss you again. You settle back against his lap, watching him play.

Later that night, he delivers on his promise- the trophy he was so eager to give you.

The first fic for the EVENT: Fics inspired by songs. Tell me how it is; likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Tysm for reading my works and each one of you are precious!! <3

HAVE A NICE DAY!!

Credits to the lovely @roseschoices for the purple swirly divider; make sure to check them out!

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock oneshot #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #fanfiction #sam and colby #colby brock fic #event #fics inspired by songs #boyfriend!colby #girlfriend!reader

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reveryfics · 19 days ago

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Blood Sport

Pairings: Eddie Brock x Male reader

Summary: During the fight with carnage, the reader and his symbiote (Agony) sacrifice themselves to take down Cletus

A/n: I actually hate this one, but yall seem to enjoy it

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was a night cloaked in shadows, the sky weeping heavily as rain poured down in relentless sheets. The deafening sound of a bell tolling in the distance, its mournful peals echoing through the old church.

In the dim light a badly beaten figure lay sprawled in the dirt, the ground beneath him saturated with the thick red of his blood and rain. His body ached with every shallow breath, and his eyelids fluttered as he fought against the encroaching feeling of death.

The world around him swirled like a distorted dream, edges blurred and shapes melting into one another. With gritted teeth, he wrestled with despair and pain, instinct driving him to crawl towards the symbiote that lay before him. Each movement sent jolts of agony through his battered frame, but he refused to succumb to a man like Cletus Kasady.

Above him, the bell tolled on, its haunting low rhythm slowly coming to a halt along with the world around him.

His shaky hand reached forward, a thick purple goo sprung towards him enveloping his entire being. He heaved himself from the ground. Blood matted his hair, plastered to his face like a gruesome mask. His eyes, narrowed slits of pain, burned like a feral light.

A guttural scream, raw and primal, tore from his throat - a sound of pure unadulterated agony. Each step was a testament to the twos will, a staggering crawl towards the church tower as his symbiote enveloped his body, fueled by vengeance that burned brighter than any pain.

The symbiote lunges, their nails digging into carnage as they send them plummeting towards the ground, both hitting the muddy ground with a thud. Carnage lay pinned beneath, their eyes locked in a silent, intense stare. Neither moved, neither spoke.

“Such a pathetic morsal.” Carnage hissed.

“We the pathetic ones?!” They spat. “Pathetic is the symbiote who needed a killer to do its bidding,” they growled. “We.….are Agony!”

Carnage roared, a sound swallowed by the rain, and flung Agony into the side of the church. The symbiote huffed, crawling up the church and towards the bell, beckoning for Carnage to come after them.

The two stood by the stilled bell, the two at a standoff as Venom watched while Eddie desperately tried to help Anne.

Agony fought with a desperate grace, their movement fluid until Carnage with Cletus. They had something those two didn't, a perfect bond, a perfect symbiotic pair that no one could ever come close to.

In a desperate attempt, Carnage flung not only himself, but the other two into the church bell. The agonizing toll separating them from their symbiotes who plumbited to the church floor below.

Cletus retaliated with a swift kick to the man's knee, the impact sending him to his knees. The man seized the opportunity, driving his elbow into the other jaw. He grunted, clutching his face as he shakily stood.

“You're nothing but a pathetic little shit!” Cletus bellowed. “You think he cares about you? You think Eddie Brock will look twice once this is all over?” He continued.

“You think I don't know? You think I've never realized how little I mean to him?” He retorted.

The two stood still, their eyes locked on one another like before. Neither moved, neither said a word as they let everything sink in.

Cletus took a step forward, peering over the edge at their two symbiotes fighting while Venom and Eddie still tried to help Anne.

Cletus sighed. “He's more worried about a woman who don't love him,” he chuckled. “How does it fe-”

His words caught in his throat as the world slowed around him. He was falling, no the both of them were falling. They looked at one another, then suddenly everything went black.

Blood splattered against the dusty pews as pieces of broken wood pierced their bodies. Cletus lay several feet away, along with his now dead symbiote.

Agony let out a cry, their weak form crumbling to the floor beside their host. He was alive, but they were both too weak and they knew it. They knew they'd never survive this, never get to go home.

“Eddie…..” He gurgled through the blood pouring from his mouth.

Eddie's face was full of unknown feelings, his body racked with sobs as he rushed towards their side. His shaky hands nearing his body, but never touching him.

“No, no, no, no!” He screams, his voice breaking.

Tears streamed down his face, clouding his vision. He could barely make out the words Eddie began to scream, could barely register the begging coming from Eddie's mouth.

“Do something! Do something Agony!” He cried, but his cries fell upon deaf ears. “Please….please I love you.”

He smiled as best he could, his way of telling Eddie that he felt the same. His way of acknowledging what was already said far to late.

Eddie was glad it was raining at the funeral, but everyone knew. Everyone knew what was going through his head.

“You're my favorite regret, and one day I'll pay for my arrogance.” Eddie breathed.

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rebkys · 3 months ago

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DEJA VU

suna x freader

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

You remembered the first time you met Suna Rintarou. He had been so different from anyone you’d ever known—cool, aloof, yet strangely magnetic. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and before you knew it, you were spending all your time together. Late-night texts, shared laughs, stolen glances—it had been perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

The change had been subtle at first. Suna’s attention seemed to drift, his texts grew shorter, his laughter less frequent. You tried to ignore it, to hold on to what you had, but the truth was impossible to deny. Suna was pulling away.

And then you saw them together. Suna and the new girl, the one who had transferred in a few weeks ago. They were at the same café where you and Suna used to hang out, sitting in the same booth, sharing the same inside jokes. The sight had felt like a punch to the gut.

You remembered how you and Suna used to talk about your favorite show, how you’d stay up late discussing every plot twist and character arc. It was the same show he was now discussing with her, the excitement in his eyes a painful reminder of what you had lost. The song she sang to him was the same one you had shared with him, the one that had become your little secret. Now, it was all just part of their routine, every moment you had once cherished turned into something reused and repurposed.

“Hey.”

You turned at the sound of his voice, your heart aching at the sight of him. Suna stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a long silence, the air heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Suna took a step closer, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and devoid of humor. “Didn’t you? Because it sure feels like you did.”

Suna flinched at your words, but you couldn’t stop. The pain, the anger, the betrayal—they all came pouring out.

“You took everything we had and gave it to her,” you continued, your voice shaking. “All our memories, all our moments—you just replaced me like I meant nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Suna protested, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“It is true. And you know what? I hope you’re happy with her. I hope she gives you everything I couldn’t.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Suna standing alone on the rooftop. As you descended the stairs, you felt a strange sense of relief. The pain was still there, but it was no longer all-consuming. You had said your piece, and now it was time to move on.

Because if there was one thing you had learned from this experience, it was that you deserved better. And someday, you would find someone who saw you for who you truly were—someone who wouldn’t make you feel like a replaceable part in a never-ending cycle of déjà vu.

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

#suna x reader #suna rintarou #angst #song inspired #oneshot #haikyuu angst

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oatmealdaydreams · 4 days ago

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Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany. Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this.

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother.

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this.

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay.

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least.

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse.

His drive up through Mount Tammany.

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses.

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother.

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things.

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really.

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars.

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.”

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know.

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something.

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice.

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?”

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.”

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful.

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan.

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard.

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound?

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker.

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.”

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it.

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite.

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway.

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything.

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this.

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.”

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands.

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks.

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now.

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.”

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking.

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.”

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times.

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed.

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be.

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany.

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals.

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.”

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game?

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him.

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point.

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window.

Neither of them breathe for a moment.

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from?

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window.

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence.

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down.

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine.

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes.

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension.

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.”

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.”

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same.

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues.

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy.

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before.

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods.

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets.

Stan slowly reaches out first.

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway.

They hold hands.

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing.

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back.

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds.

Little birds keep close together for winter.

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again.

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

#oatmeal ink pens #shifter stan au #gravity falls #stan pines #stanley pines #stangst #angst #part 2 #oneshot #hurt/comfort #inspired by the song Black Hole Fantasy by The Crane Wives

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hoomandoescosplay · 4 months ago

Text

Good Luck Babe | Lute x Reader Oneshot

I’m sitting in my room, cleaning my angelic spear as my door bursts open. I look up slightly shocked from the sudden noise but a smile quickly forms on my face as I see Lute.

She immediately closes the door behind her and makes her way towards me, plopping onto my bed, and laying her head in my lap, staring up at me with a tired expression.

“Long day babe?” I ask as I place my spear off to the side. “You could say that.” She lets out a tired sigh. “Adam’s as arrogant as usual, and my soldiers are hopeless. They can never do things right. Or to my standards. It would be nice to have just one damn exorcist who actually follows orders as instructed. Just one.”

I place my hand around her stomach and begin to rub circles on her with my thumb. “Hmm I get how you feel. Don’t let it stress you too much, everything will work out.”

“It’s just frustrating. I’m their commanding officer, and they should be terrified of me. Yet, they don’t listen to me. They get sloppy, and make stupid decisions. They’re weak.” She practically spits the word out making me have to hold in a sigh. “And they don’t seem to respect me at all. I can’t deal with this.”

“They respect you babe, trust me. Even if it doesn't seem like it they’ll do whatever you command when it really comes down to it.” I say gently as I continue to rub circles on her stomach.

“Hmph. Are you sure they do, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?” She asks in a somewhat pouty voice, looking up at me. I smile down at her as I laugh slightly. “I think you need a distraction to get your mind off today.”

“Oh really?” She smirks, sitting up and straddling my hips. “And just what kind of distraction did you have in mind?” I let out a surprised squeak at her sudden shift in position before putting my hands on her hips. “Hmm let’s see.” I say slowly as my hands creep up her body.

I let them rest on her shoulders before cupping her face in my hands. Her lips part slightly, making me smirk. She grins and wraps her arms loosely around my neck, pressing herself closer to me.

“And just what’s your goal here?” She asks in a teasing tone as her eyes dart to my lips before meeting my own. I bring her face closer to mine, our lips barely apart.

She’s practically flushed against me now. Her eyes are half-lidded and her breathing slightly uneven. Her hands grip the fabric of my shirt, as her face is a mere inch away from my own.

I close the distance kissing her gently at first before deepening the kiss. She instantly responds, kissing me back eagerly. Her hands pull my shirt, forcing my body flush against her own. A soft moan escapes her.

I smile into the kiss as my hands travel down to grip her hips. Her hands have snaked underneath my shirt, and are now traveling across my skin. Her touch leaves a burning sensation in its path.

She lets out an almost needy whine, as she runs her tongue along my bottom lip. I grant her access, and her tongue instantly explores my mouth. Her touch is needy and desperate, but her kiss is hot. My body is on fire.

She ends the kiss to catch her breath as she looks at me through her eyelashes. “Someone’s needy.” I grin playfully. She leans down so our faces are only a whisper’s apart.

“I’ve had a long day, and you’re a very *distracting* presence” she says in a sultry voice, running a finger along my jawline. “Ah I see. Well I’m glad my distraction is working.” I reply as my grip on her hips tightens.

She grins, and rolls her hips against me, eliciting a soft gasp from me. “Oh, I’d say it’s definitely working” she teases in a sultry voice. “You’re something else you know that?” I say as I pull her in closer.

“So I’ve been told” she says, before burying her head in the crook of my neck. Her kiss is slow and gentle, as her lips trail their way along my jawline and down my collarbone, leaving a trail of burning kisses on my skin.

I tilt my head back slightly as I wrap my head around her comment. I’ve never said that to her before. Or did I and I just forgot? The thought quickly spaced my mind as she continued to leave kisses all over my skin.

Her kisses soon reach just above the base of my neck, and she sucks gently before nibbling on the skin. Her hands once again travel underneath my shirt, her touches feather-light, but burning hot.

I let out a small sigh before a knock at my door makes us both jolt. Lute immediately jumps off of me leaving my body feeling cold. She begins to straighten herself out as I try to collect myself as well.

I glance over at her as she begins to fix her hair. I wish she didn’t want to keep our relationship hidden. Sometimes I feel like she only comes to me when she needs something but I know she loves me. She has to, right?

There’s another knock at the door, and Lute has seemingly regained her composure. “Just a minute!” I call out, standing up and straightening out my shirt. I make my way to the door and open it as my eyes meet Sera’s.

Her eyes darted over to Lute before focusing back on me. “Am I interrupting something?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. I shake my head. “No, not at all. Lute was just asking me if I wanted to train with her.”

Lute quickly jumps in to back me up. “Yeah, I was just asking if she wanted to have a training session. Some sparring, you know?” Sera nods her head as her eyes go back to me. “I just wanted to see if your evaluations for your squad were ready for me to look over.”

“Right, of course.” I say, my memory immediately coming back to the stack of papers sitting on my desk. “Just let me grab them for you.” I quickly grab the papers and pass them to her.

She quickly skims through the papers before looking back up at me, a satisfied look on her face. “Looks like everything is in order. Good job, as usual.” Sera then looks over to Lute. “Adam was looking for you by the way. You should probably see what he wants.”

Lute rolls her eyes. “Of course he was.” She mutters under her breath. “Thanks for letting me know, I’m sure it’s just something stupid.” She grumbles before making her way out the door.

Sera gives me one last look before leaving as well. I close the door with a sigh as I go back to my bed sitting on it. I look around my room, it feels almost too quiet. Without Lute’s presence, the room feels cold and almost desolate.

I find myself falling back onto my bed, my mind wandering to thoughts of Lute. Why does she always leave so quickly after she’s with me? It’s like she can only be near me when it’s convenient for her. I know she loves me, she has to. But sometimes I wonder…

Her being so adamant to keep our relationship a secret doesn’t help my overthinking either. I sit up suddenly, my frustration almost boiling over. I can’t keep on feeling like this. I know she’s stubborn, but she should understand that this can’t continue on like this.

Why is she so ashamed of having to hide our relationship? I want the world to see that we belong together, but she’s too scared to come out in the open. Maybe if I talk to her she’ll understand. I can’t keep going on like this.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

It was late at night. I knew this was probably a bad time, but I had to talk to Lute. I stand firm before her door, my heart racing and my hands shaking slightly. I took a breath and quickly knocked on the door, anxiety welling up inside me.

I wait for a few moments before not getting a response. I raise an eyebrow confused as I know she should be here and it’s not late enough for her to be asleep already.

I wait for just a moment more, before deciding to try the door knob. I was surprised to see that the door was unlocked, and slowly pushed the door open before poking my head inside. My eyes immediately widen from what I see, making me wish I never even came here in the first place.

Lute’s back was pressed against the wall with Adam’s body pressed against hers. Their lips were moving slowly against each other, and Lute’s hand was gripping his shoulder.

What the… I grip the door handle tighter as I try to process what I’m witnessing right now. Adam’s hand slowly travels down her side until he reaches her hip, his grip tightening on the skin. A soft moan escapes Lute.

This can’t be happening. I can feel myself trembling as my breathing becomes shallow. Adam’s lips begin to trail down her neck, leaving soft kisses on her skin, which elicits shudders and soft gasps from Lute.

“What the fuck.” I strain out as I try to keep myself from spiraling. Both of them suddenly freeze and look in my direction. Lute's eyes widen when she sees me standing in the doorway. “(Y/N)?!” She stammers out.

I can feel my heart shatter in that moment as I look between the two of them. Adam just sneers annoyed over the fact I interrupted them. “Got a problem with me spending time with my girlfriend?” I blink back tears as I process his words.

Girlfriend? No, this can’t be happening. I must be dreaming. This isn’t real. All of the air left my lungs in one go, as the reality set in. I couldn’t form a response to his question. I could feel my throat tightening as tears welled up in my eyes.

I look at Lute with wide eyes and all she can do is look away with a guilty expression. She refused to look me in the eye. She was guilty, and she knew it.

The betrayal from the realization hit me hard. This wasn’t just some fling between them, she had a full-on relationship with him. I had opened myself up to her, I had shared my heart with her, and she had been lying and cheating this whole time.

It all made sense now. Her need to keep our relationship a secret, her only coming to me when she needed something. I had been a fool to think she loved me. I was just a replacement, someone for her to pass the time.

“Pretend I never interrupted.” I mutter out giving her one last look before I close the door and walk back to my own room. She couldn’t even get any words out. She could only stand there with a panicked expression as I walked away.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I should have seen this coming. I should have seen how cold she always was, how she never wanted to make it public. I’m so stupid to think that she could actually love me. I’m such a fool.

As soon as I get back to my room I immediately walk in and close the door before slamming my fist into the wall. The pain from the punch made me wince, but it was nothing to the pain in my chest.

I can’t believe I let myself get fooled like this. I’m an idiot, such a damn idiot. I sit down on my bed, but I’m too distraught to cry right now. I just feel numb, and empty.

As I sit on my bed my mind replays the scene from before. I can’t stop seeing Lute standing there, her hair messy and her clothes disheveled. Her lips were red, and an expression of guilt on her face. And the fact that Adam was calling her his “girlfriend” replays in my head over and over again.

As I stare at the wall my thoughts get interrupted as my door slams open. Lute is a complete mess as she storms into the room. Her hair is messy, her clothes are wrinkled. Her eyes are filled with a mixture of guilt, panic and fear. “Please let me explain.”

“How long?” I ask as I try to keep my emotions in check. Lute struggles to find her words as guilt written all over her face. “Look…it’s complicated. Please just…please listen to me.”

“How long Lute? Did I mean anything to you?” I say a bit louder as my hands grip my knees. Lute flinches slightly at the volume of my voice. She takes a deep breath before saying the words I wish I never had to hear. “Our relationship was barely anything. It was nothing.”

A strained laugh comes out of me as I just stare at her. “It's fine, it's cool.” I say quietly before standing up and walking in front of her. “You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.” She glances away and tries to back up from how close our proximity is. “And guess I'm the fool.”

Her back hits the wall behind her. She can’t seem to find her words as I step closer to her. She lets out a shaky breath, her heart racing. “You don’t understand…”

Lute looks at me with a pained expression. She hated seeing me like this, she never wanted to hurt me, although the damage has already been done. “…It’s just…I wasn’t really looking for anything serious. And you and I…we were never going anywhere! I’d never be able to be with you forever!” She almost yelled out.

“I don’t wanna call it off but you don’t wanna call it love. You only want to be the one that I call “baby”.” She bites her bottom lip as her emotions begin to well up inside her. Her eyes begin to water, but her pride won’t allow her to cry. “That’s not it, you know it’s not…I do care about you. I-I do, but we wouldn’t work, you know that.”

“Make a new excuse, another stupid reason.” I scoff at her as tears well up in my eyes. Her mind is racing, desperately searching for anything to say. But she can’t find the words, she can’t think of any more stupid reasons or excuses.

The only thing she can do is stare at me, the guilt and heartbreak evident in her eyes. “Dammit…don’t look at me like that…please.” I let out another laugh, turning my head away from her as a tear falls from my eye. I wipe it away quickly before looking back at her.

Lute’s heart aches as she sees me trying to keep it together. Her own emotions are overwhelming her, making her even more frustrated. “Why…why can’t you just accept that you and I…we’re not meant for each other. It’s just not that easy, and I need something more stable, something that can go somewhere, okay?”

“We could have worked out. You just didn’t want to try and see.” I glare at her. “You’d rather be with him than risk having a relationship with another female.”

Her eyes widen at my accusation. She can’t deny it, but she can’t bring herself to admit it either. My words cut through her, making her feel even more guilty. “That’s not-…” She tries to lie, before stopping herself and clenching her jaw.

“When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night, with your head in your hands, you'll be nothing more than his “wife”.” I poke her in the chest as I point at her.

“And when you think about me, all of those years ago you’re standing face to face with "I told you so".” She flinches at my words, feeling the weight of them hit her like a punch to the gut. “Y-You don’t know anything! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You know I hate to say, but, I told you so.” I say quieter this time. “Good luck babe.” Her heart feels like it’s tearing in two as she listens to the pain in my voice.

She wants to say something, she wants to explain herself. But what could she say? What could she possibly say that wouldn’t make this worse? I walk to the door leaving her pressed up against the wall. I look at her once more before leaving. “Good luck babe.”

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tmntxthings · 1 year ago

Text

一∑ Not Enough・゜・。

author’s note: i feel pretty meh about this but we posting anywayssss c: thank joji for this ! here’s to heartbreak and betrayal~~~

warnings: cursing, hurt + no comfort, angst to the max, unedited

word association: first love, relationships, broken trust, loneliness, betrayal, self-deprecation, doubt, emotional breakdowns

song inspired: “ Ew by Joji ”

—————————————————————————

First love.

Not a crush. Not a like. Those don’t come close. Those can’t compare. To the all-encompassing feeling that is love. Especially the first.

If Donatello had been aware of what would happen. Of the impact that it would leave. In this moment, he would say it is not worth it.

You…

His teeth bared at just the thought. He couldn’t think of you for one moment without a searing pain lancing through his entire being. Making his teeth ache and he found he was curling into himself. He straightened once he realized what he was doing.

Sitting wasn’t helping. He stood. Maybe going back to pacing would help. Help him to finally think. His eyes were to the floor. Watching his feet march a couple of paces here. Only to stop when he saw debris on the floor and to turn back the way he came.

Pacing.

He tried once more.

You… you’re.. his everything. His first real crush. His first kiss. His first love.

Of course the beginning with you had been a cliche, he had saved you. But that was one of the only ways he came into contact with humans. Maybe that’s what you had fallen in love with, a ‘hero.’ He was anything but that. He hardly felt up to par with his brothers. They were naturals. Wielding their mystic powers with ease while it was still a struggle for Donnie. But maybe that one heroic moment with him had been the reason why you fell so hard and so fast for him.

You had taught him a lot. He was never a vocal person. Not when it came to his emotions. You taught him to communicate better, better than Mikey had been able to. So much so that he had been able to confess a deep emotion like love to you. And you’d accepted him. Loved him back. For a time everything was great. You were around all the time. Nothing else seemed to really matter to Donnie. You were his world and he just circled around it. You continued to be his first for a lot of things. Time continued to pass by and his feelings for you never faded. They only grew stronger and that bond between the two of you would last forever.

Except.

It didn’t.

Unbeknownst to Donnie, your feelings had faded.

His pacing stopped. His eyes drilling holes into the ground before he forced his head to turn to his monitor. Ignoring the rest of the wreck. His heart started to race, in a sickening way that made him feel dizzy. He was looking at a you. His monitor held you.

And someone else. He felt sick as he forced himself to stare. The adoration pouring from your gaze as you held onto this..this stranger! His stomach rolled as he remembered what came after. What not even he could force himself to look at for a second time.

When you had said you “needed a break.” Donnie had thought it was because of school. That’s how you had made it sound. That you were stressed. You needed time alone. It had never sounded like a break up. In fact a kiss was shared between you two before you had left the lair that day. Reassuring him that everything was fine. That you weren’t leaving him. That you loved him more than anything. That this was just for you, and your health.

Donnie had distracted himself to not text you as much. To not call you as much. He still sought after you on social media though. He checked your location from time to time just to keep him from being restless with worry. It was especially hard when the days apart started to add up.

So when you had told him school was out for the summer…that you were out celebrating with friends.. he couldn’t stop himself. He just had to see you. Even if it was just for a moment. He’d tracked your location to some club. Had gotten on the roof to see that no you weren’t inside the building but on the side. Without even thinking Donnie had moved to the edge, moments from jumping down to make a grand entrance in front of you. Not thinking about the what-ifs of getting caught by other humans. He wanted to surprise you. To see that lovely smile light up your face as you took him in, maybe if he was lucky he’d get a kiss. He’d take anything you would give him.

The only thing that stopped him from jumping down was hearing your voice squeal someone else’s name.

Even then, Donnie hadn’t thought anything of it, just a change of plans, to not drop down but to text you saying ‘I’m here!’ or ‘Look up!’ or ‘Hang back for a minute.’

Then he looked over the edge and saw you pressed against the brick wall of the building he was on top of. Looking into the eyes of another with excitement, with anticipation, with love.

And kissing the stranger. Again. And again. And again. Over. And over. And over again.

He had staggered back. Shaking from head to toe as he tore off into the sky. Running away. Flying straight back home to ruin everything in his path. Mainly his lab. And when he could finally piece together two thoughts that weren’t to destroy shit. He already had the recording set up on his monitor. Paused on that look on your face.

He had fled the scene but as always he recorded everything. He couldn’t press play… he couldn’t. This image alone was painfully enough. In fact he had to turn away. Staggering back to his lone chair. It was one of the few things that survived his wrath.

“Fuck.” He croaked as he slumped over, elbows on his knees as his palms pressed into his eyes. Why was this happening? What had he done? You loved another?? He wasn’t enough??? Why had he thought he ever would be? What he didn’t understand was why you even bothered in the first place if this was to be the outcome.

Why had you taught him all of those things?

To love.

Pointless. It was all unbearably pointless.

Hadn’t he become someone more worthy? Now that he knew how to communicate properly and not shut down? To not crawl into his lab and sulk for weeks without speaking his mind? Why? Why. Why??? Why was he still not enough?

For some reason he had thought that love was unconditional. Undying. But it was a fickle thing. Something he now knew he couldn’t rely on. He would never make the same mistake again.

His eyes started to burn and he pressed the heels of his palms into them harder. He didn’t want this. If this was what he got for loving someone as much as he had loved you, he didn’t want it. It hurt. His breathing quickened, no matter how hard he pressed, tears leaked out, wetting his hands as he held back sobs. No. No. No.

And before he knew it the mantra couldn’t overpower his pathetic whimpers. Then it grew louder, more convulsive as the sobs turned to howls. This was worse than any physical pain. How would he be able to fix this. Was there a cure? He didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

After crying until he couldn’t, slowly he straightened in his seat. His tear ducts ached, the stains on his face burned, but it didn’t matter. He had cried so much, for so long, he was sure he would never do it again. Donnie stood, taking in the entirety of his lab. He’d have to clean up first. Then he could work on something. Anything. That would help. It always did. His wrist-tech vibrated, along with his monitor changing screens to show an incoming call from you.

He swiped it away.

He knew what a ‘break’ meant now. He didn’t need to hear you. He didn’t need your confirmation nor consolation. He didn’t need closure. He had lived without you before. He surely could do it again.

He fought against the pain that rushed forward. No he wouldn’t feel anything. He didn’t need you. It was all a sham. Another weakness that he couldn’t afford. He’d forget about this. About you. And he was sure one day he could convince himself this was all some stupid fever dream that he had made up to pass the time.

It would be like you never even existed.

Though it would never conceal the fact that he felt deficient. That he was lacking. That he was someone inadequate to love.

Deep down in the marrow of his bones he would always feel like he was never enough.

—————————————————————————

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thegirlwiththeblush · 1 month ago

Text

It Ain't the Being Alone

Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor, Tenth Doctor

Word Count: 1.57k

Fandom: Doctor Who

Song Inspiration: Unknown / Nth by Hozier

Summary: Rose Tyler runs into a couple of strangers who don't really feel like strangers.

a/n: I hope people who need closure from the Doctor and Rose find this fic; I wrote this because I would've loved to see the dynamic between Thirteen and Rose, so hopefully people enjoy my spin on it! Special thanks to my dearest @vorsdany of course for proofreading and being so generous with her encouragement!

Rose Tyler often felt like she was being watched. It wasn’t the typical feeling; it wasn’t anxiety-inducing, nor was she on her guard. It felt as if the stories from her childhood of fairy godmothers and angels watching over you were true; she felt almost protected or safeguarded. Only, she couldn’t pinpoint the source of the feeling.

Maybe it was the tall, gallant-looking man wearing a fez and bow tie visiting Henrik’s when she was on shift, flashing her a bright smile in passing that she felt deep in her soul. Perhaps it was the grey gentleman in the velvet waistcoat who passed her as she boarded the bus across town one day, his scowling demeanour fading when she turned toward him.

It could’ve been the man she ran into after leaving her mother on her way home on New Year’s, hiding in the shadows and groaning oddly.

“You alright, mate?” she’d asked. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the snow caught in her golden hair.

“Yeah,” he replied, not meeting her gaze.

“Too much to drink?”

He took a moment to catch his breath, before standing to his full height. In the poor lighting of the alley, she could just make out his umber trench coat and navy suit underneath. He appeared to be wearing a pair of maroon Converse high-tops; an interesting fashion choice, she thought. “Something like that.” His dark eyes settled on hers, and even in the darkness, she could sense some kind of affliction deep in them, something other than intoxication.

She smiled softly at him anyway. “Maybe it’s time you went home,” she suggested amiably, no ill intent in her words.

“Yeah,” he agreed. His eyes never left hers.

“Anyway,” she grinned, bending her knees and leaning forward in a friendly gesture, “happy new year!”

“And you.”

She took her leave, her scarf swaying around her legs as she began sauntering home, frowning curiously as she pondered the encounter.

“What year is this?”

She spun back round before fully processing his question. A chuckle bubbled up in her chest and she couldn’t help but let it out as she asked, “Blimey, how much have you had?”

He made a strangled, throaty sound, shaking his head slightly, as if to confirm that he’d had, in fact, quite a lot. Her smile faded slightly in concern. “2005, January the 1st,” she said.

“2005,” he repeated breathlessly, and she nodded, blinking rapidly. “Tell you what,” he continued, “I bet you’re gonna have a really great year.”

Her smile reappeared. “Yeah?” She couldn’t believe she was taking a random drunkard in the street seriously, but there was something incredibly inviting and reassuring about him. The grin he gave her in return, although somewhat rueful for some reason, warmed her to her core, and she looked away shyly, before turning to him once more. “See ya!” With that, she bounded across the street to her home, only looking back once she’d made it inside. He still stood there staunchly, as if frozen to the pavement. She tried to put him out of her mind as she made her way upstairs to her apartment.

Ever since that night, the feeling had only intensified, and while she didn’t mind it that much, it was almost impossible to ignore.

One day, she’d run off to Potters Field Park, flustered and bothered after a disagreement with Mickey. She couldn’t go home just yet, or her mum would end up complaining about something or other, like her favourite show not being on the telly, or Jimbo not answering her calls. Not that she minded, she just wasn’t in the headspace to be dealing with that right now.

She found herself a park bench facing Tower Bridge, the dew from the grass permeating through her sneakers and the cold air seeping into her bones. She sighed as she sat back and regarded the bright, cloudless sky and the world before her blankly. In her zoned-out state, she barely noticed the blonde, wiry woman approaching her softly and slowly.

“Hello,” she began, startling Rose out of her daze. “Mind if I sit here?” A thick Yorkshire accent imbued her words with a gentle excitement; Rose couldn’t help but think she must be a long way from home.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, scooting over to make more room for her. The woman’s long, periwinkle trench coat splayed out across the bench, and she scrambled not to let it encroach on Rose’s personal space. Tucking it underneath her, she made herself comfortable, sitting on her hands and drawing her mouth into a tight, straight line. They sat like this for a moment, in uneasy silence while Rose wondered why she couldn’t have found her own park bench, before she finally spoke.

“I wonder if I could ask you something,” she said, turning to Rose with her eyebrows furrowed. “Some advice, I suppose.”

Rose raised an eyebrow quizzically. “You’re asking a stranger in London for advice?”

“There’s something about you that makes me feel like we’re not really strangers.”

Rose was about to scoff at this, but she hesitated, staring back at the mysterious woman. She couldn’t help but feel as if... she was right. She couldn’t put a finger on why, but she couldn’t argue her bizarre point.

“Go on, then,” she finally agreed.

“I lost someone,” the woman continued, “many years ago. Many, many years ago.”

“Blimey, you don’t look like you’ve lived ‘many, many years.’”

The woman grinned. “Thank you. My skincare routine is out of this world.” She suppressed a giggle, as if she’d told a hilarious inside joke, and Rose blinked several times, but disregarded it.

Shifting awkwardly on the bench, she went on. “I can’t seem to get over it, no matter where I go or how much time passes. I can’t stop myself from going to see her, even just to know she’s okay, or to see that beautiful smile again.” She beamed proudly. “Her smile is one of the most precious things on this amazing planet.”

“Ah, so she’s still alive?” Rose clarified. She was struggling to keep up.

The woman scrunched her nose. “Well, sort of. Not really, but in a way. It depends.”

Rose was beginning to accept that this person was not entirely sane; how in the world did someone’s existence depend on anything? Nevertheless, shaking her head in bewilderment, she asked, “And what advice did you want to ask?”

The woman had been distracted by a small, round house sparrow, hopping through the grass in search of scraps, all alone. “Now I’m not sure,” she admitted, still staring at the lone bird. “I suppose just... what to do. How do I keep going with this grief weighing me down?”

A twinge of pity pricked Rose’s heart. “This girl really meant a lot to you,” she murmured the obvious.

“She was like an angel to me,” the woman concurred, biting her lip and turning her head as the sparrow bounced its way over to them.

“How long has it been since you last saw her?”

“Ah, now there’s a very difficult question to answer,” the woman laughed as she looked up, but when she met Rose’s exasperated gaze, she cleared her throat and corrected herself, looking away ashamedly. “Quite recently, actually.”

“Don’t you think, maybe,” Rose suggested, sighing and wondering once again why she was having such a deep conversation with a stranger, “that to get over her, you need to stop seeing her? Unless you’re visiting her grave, I’m still not quite clear on whether she’s alive or not.”

“Let’s just go with alive.”

“Well, alright.”

The woman seemed uncomfortable from being confronted with this point. She mulled it over, grabbing an item from her pocket and rotating it between her fingers. Rose could not discern its purpose or even shape; it appeared to be a distorted shaft of metal, with a glowing amber core running through it, reaching a glowing head at one end. “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured.

“I know it can be hard, the loneliness and missing them and what you had,” Rose sympathised.

The woman’s face contorted in deliberation. She allowed herself a moment to arrange her thoughts before responding. “I don’t think it’s the being alone that’s worst. It’s more, the being unknown.” Zoning out, she pressed a small button on the hunk of metal, producing a buzzing and whirring sound that startled Rose. “Sometimes I think there are some people who are better unknown.”

Rose wondered whether she meant the girl she so dearly missed, or perhaps, herself.

The woman stood up abruptly, shoving the metallic item back inside her coat and smoothing the fabric. “Well, I shouldn’t bother you any longer,” she announced, beaming warmly at Rose. “Thank you for your help.”

Staring back dazedly, Rose shrugged. “It’s no problem. I hope you are, er, able to find your peace.”

The woman’s expression turned rueful. “Thank you,” she replied. “Me too.”

As she sauntered away, Rose called after her, “Wait!”

She turned back with a small smile and eyebrows raised, almost as if she’d hoped Rose would call her back.

“You never told me your name,” Rose said.

The woman’s smile grew into a cheeky grin, and she raised one finger to her lips. “Spoilers,” she said. With that, she turned away again and strode off, leaving Rose utterly baffled and ready to go home for a very long nap.

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itsdappleagain · 11 months ago

Note

48 for the spotify wrapped

48: My Dead Gay Son from Heathers the Musical

oh boy. this one might be a wild ride. highly recommend you listen to the whole song if you're unfamiliar.

here is a recording of the stage production with...erm...visuals and here is the cast recording with better audio!

They're up there disco dancing to the thump of angel wings! They grab a mate… And roller skate— While Judy Garland sings! They live a playful afterlife that's fancy-free and reckless! They swing upon the pearly gates— And wear a pearly necklace!

summary: jean paul and antonio fake their own deaths in order to escape the dangerous life VILE has put them on and must secretly watch their own "funeral" in order to make sure no one suspects they are still alive.

---

It starts with a note, slipped furtively into the hand of Carmen Sandiego in a fight both of them know is going too easily. Le Chevre holds her gaze and immediately makes good on his whispered promise to to leave right then and there without a fight, telling the Faculty she defeated him as always.

The note she opens says this:

Antonio and I need your help. We are defecting from VILE- we want to start a future together, but we don't have anywhere to go. We are afraid they will find us...you know what they would do if they found out. You are the only one to have ever left VILE and lived to see another day. Please help us. We know you don't have any reason to, so all we can do is beg. Antonio and Jean Paul

Carmen, of course, helps them. It is her nature. Together, secretly, the three begin to plan the deaths of Le Chevre and El Topo.

Tigress is the unwitting unlucky winner of the "who gets to witness their death" contest. Once everything is set in place and Antonio, Jean Paul, and Tigress are scheduled on the same mission again, Carmen makes arrangements for them and the plan goes into motion.

At 11:44pm Tigress sends the duo into their empty target building to scout it out. At 11:49 the building blows up in a ball of fire and ash and shrapnel, and Tigress must flee before the police arrive, streaked with soot and, against her will, crying.

She is the first one to see the news report that the police found the charred remains of two unidentified bodies in the wreckage of the building. She is the first to alert the faculty, and the one to begin arrangements for El Topo and Le Chevre's memorial.

Back in San Diego, Carmen sits with Antonio and Jean Paul, the air heavy as they watch the news report apparently announcing their own deaths.

"Tigress will be devastated." Antonio murmurs, eyes fixed on the circling overhead shot of the blackened building they'd snuck out of before Carmen had detonated the explosives. "She acts cold, but she will blame herself."

"It will make it all the more convincing." Carmen sighs, tracing her jaw with her fingers in contemplation. "If she knew..."

"Better that she does not." Jean Paul finishes, his hand squeezing Antonio's as they lean on one another. With Player messing with the police reports to make it seem as though their bodies had been found in the explosion, they are effectively invisible. Dead. Wiped off the map, and free to start their new lives together however they wanted.

Almost.

"I'm pulling up video and audio feed now." Player chimes from the base's speaker systems. "Good thing that I have the experience now to hack through VILE's 27 layers of encryption. Where did you set up those hidden cameras?"

"Where VILE always holds its memorials." Carmen says solemnly, her eyes just barely betraying a history of seeing more there than she cares now to admit. Her eyes flick to the two former operatives in her living room and they nod.

"The great hall. Last step," Jean Paul sighs, "see if they bought it."

The video feed flickers to life on their monitors- grainy and half-hidden where the two secretly set it up on VILE Island before their final mission. Everyone leans in, squinting as the fuzziness works itself out a little bit. The camera is hardly a centimeter in diameter, and, considering that, it is doing its best.

There, gathered in the grand hall, is a small crowd of operatives and the Faculty, gathered around the small table displaying their operative ID photos. Tigress, clearly wiping her eyes and trying not to show it, has just laid down a small bouquet by their photos.

Zack emerges from the kitchen and leans over the couch to where they're watching. Ivy hangs slightly behind, still suspicious of Antonio and Jean Paul. Zack whistles, oblivious to the tone in the room. "Too bad we can't have this camera on all the time. We shoulda got a man on the inside sooner!"

"Every minute that camera stays on in there is another minute it risks being discovered." Player explains briefly, his eyes still fixed on the feed on his own screen. "It'll self-destruct as soon as the ceremony is over, when I tell it to. We just need to confirm that El Topo and Le Chevre truly are dead to VILE and then we're out."

Zack hums noncommittally, attention drawn to the camera screen. Carmen's eyes are on the Faculty, watching for a sign of suspicion.

It's a second before Tigress's voice filters through their speakers. She stands at the front of the crowd, head bowed and fists clenched.

"Le Chevre and El Topo were part of my graduating class," she begins, a very un-Tigress-like hitch in her throat. "We spent the entire year training together and while- while we had our ups and downs they were some of my first friends here. There's something unbreakable about entering this life together. The two of them knew that better than anyone. I don't believe in any- any anything, really, but I hope that wherever they are now they're together, and-and that they're happy. You were some of the best, and I'm sorry that it wasn't me in that building instead of you. Rest well."

She finishes so quietly the camera's microphone almost doesn't pick it up, and she quickly wipes her eyes again and retreats back into the small crowd of operatives as they scatter some applause into the otherwise silent room.

When Carmen glances over at the two boys, they aren't making any effort to hide their own tears.

"Do you want to leave?" She asks quietly. "I can finish watching it. This might just get harder."

They both shake their heads. On the screen, Mime Bomb steps forward and mimes a flower, placing it on the table with little of his usual theatrics and retreats as well.

"They look convinced so far," Jean Paul says quietly.

Maelstrom is the first of the faculty to speak once the other operatives have finished paying their respects, and Team Red's base goes silent as he moves.

"While I don't want to spoil the evening-" he begins, and in unison Carmen, Jean Paul, Antonio, and Shadowsan (in the other room but listening in) mutter "here we go," all traces of mourning vanishing.

"-I think it must be acknowledged that El Topo and Le Chevre were two operatives whose passion was more often in each other than in their thieving work." Antonio and Jean Paul share a glance as the professor goes on with just the barest touch of disdain. "I would never stoop to say I celebrate their loss- we have lost two fine operatives in their deaths- but I must agree that I hope they are finding their lives after death more suited to the life they wished to live together."

"Cheers, Professor, we are." Antonio laughs wryly. Jean Paul isn't taking it as well, and his fists are clenched in his lap as he stares daggers at Maelstrom.

And then, suddenly-

"Now, you wait just a minute, Gunnar!"

The gasp in the VILE congregation is echoed across the world in San Diego as the group watches Dr. Bellum shoves her way forward, finger pointed directly at Maelstrom.

"You're skirting around your own prejudices, and I'm sick and tired of it. They were not dirty!" There's a glass of some drink in her hand, which seems to have given her a little courage. "They were not wrong!"

"I never said they were, Doctor, please-" Maelstrom hisses, bending with embarrassment towards his fellow faculty member. All five feet of her shoves him backwards and he stumbles, shocked.

"You have made your steady intolerance a part of our Academy's atmosphere for far too long, Gunnar!" Her voice climbs pitches like a roller coaster. "You're too afraid to say that those boys were-" she takes another sip of whatever she's drinking, "-gay as hell!"

"Doctor!" Maelstrom pleads, but Bellum is on a roll now, and the other two Faculty behind her seem to be finding this just as entertaining as Team Red is. Cleo, in particular, is red in the face and biting her lip in a way the three ex-operatives in the room have never seen before.

"Oh my God." Jean Paul stares in disbelief, all traces of anger gone as Antonio wheezes beside him. "This is going to be incredible."

"Those boys died as they lived- together! And I for one want to follow their example. I'd rather- rather live in happiness now than have to stay half hidden like they did here. Now they're up there- dancing to "disco" music and wearing beautiful necklaces like they never could have done while they were alive here!"

Maelstrom is melting into the floor as he tries and fails to do any sort of damage control, and before he can even open his mouth again, Bellum shouts, "We must carry on their legacy in VILE as we continue our work! It should never have taken their deaths to see it!"

With that, she turns, takes the hand of Countess Cleo, and sweeps her into the deepest, most passionate kiss the academy has ever seen. Antonio, in the middle of a sip of water, shoots it out of his nose.

"Shadowsan, get in here!" Carmen shrieks, cackling, as their room erupts into whoops and cheers. Shadowsan enters, sees what's happening, and has to leave again immediately to save face. In the periphery of their hidden camera, the chaos amongst the gathered operatives seems to be an even worse mixture of hilarity and horror. Tigress seems to have passed out cold onto the floor, and Cleo and Bellum are still going.

"Doctor! Countess!" They barely hear Maelstrom shriek over Brunt's roaring laughter. Zack, Ivy, and Player are in hysterics, which is a level more chill than whatever Carmen, Jean Paul, and Antonio are experiencing. Shadowsan isn't even in the room.

"If I got to witness my own funeral, I'm glad this is how it went," Antonio gasps in between howls of laughter as they watch Cleo and Bellum barely surface for air before they go back in, crashing into their memorial table and sending the two's pictures to the ground. Maelstrom has fled the great hall in a fit, and Brunt is literally crying. Someone gasps "disco!" in between laughs behind them. "Look at all the good our death did!"

"Our legacy will be felt around the academy for decades, mon amour!" Jean Paul wheezes in return, planting his own kiss on Antonio's lips. "I think we are in the clear!"

"What was in that drink, Saira?" Cleo gasps on the screen, voice husky, as they come up for air.

"It's plain Pepsi." Bellum responds, and the last thing they see before the camera self-destructs is the two Faculty members going in one more time as the Academy dissolves before their very eyes.

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