#the little gums between my teeth were perfect

[clarii]

Off Limits

Summary: Before Eddie Munson even officially met Dustin’s sister, Dustin warned him to stay far away from her, knowing she was exactly Eddie’s type. But when fate pairs them together as chemistry partners, Eddie can’t help but fall for her — and she starts falling too. One night, when she finally confesses her feelings, Eddie rejects her, torn between his growing feelings and his loyalty to Dustin.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Dustin & Eddie friendship, Dustin & Reader sibling relationship

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, rejection, hurt/comfort, protective sibling, pining, happy ending

��Hey, listen—”

Dustin caught Eddie just as he was packing up after Hellfire one night, voice unusually serious.

Eddie raised a brow. “You okay, Henderson? You look like you’re about to give me some sort of intervention.”

Dustin sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I just… need you to promise me something.”

Eddie smirked. “Sure. Anything. Except giving up metal, or D&D, or my throne as your fearless leader.”

Dustin glared. “I’m serious, dude.” He took a breath. “It’s about my sister.”

That made Eddie straighten slightly, his smirk faltering.

“Yeah?”

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Dustin’s face hardened. “I know your type, Munson. She is your type. And I don’t want you messing with her. Like… ever. Got it?”

Eddie scoffed, holding his hands up defensively. “Dude, I haven’t even met her. Chill. I’m not gonna—”

“I mean it.”

There was a rare protective edge to Dustin’s voice that made Eddie nod slowly, the teasing smile dropping.

“Yeah… okay, man. I get it. No funny business. Scouts honor.”

And he meant it.

But then came chemistry class.

It was almost comical how quickly the universe turned on him.

When Mrs. O’Donnell paired him with you for the semester-long chemistry project, Eddie had nearly choked on his gum when you introduced yourself with that soft, shy smile.

“Oh. You’re Henderson’s sister?”

You laughed. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

And then he was screwed.

You were gorgeous — but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was how easy it was to talk to you. How you rolled your eyes at his bad jokes but laughed anyway. How you didn’t flinch when he rambled about D&D while sketching dragons on his notebook instead of paying attention.

And the flirting? Yeah. That just… happened.

Small touches when passing beakers. Sitting a little too close during study sessions. Him calling you sweetheart and you calling him out for it, but never actually minding.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

————-

The tipping point was a quiet Wednesday night.

Eddie was sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, guitar pick between his teeth as he scribbled down notes for the chemistry report.

You, meanwhile, weren’t even pretending to focus.

You were too busy watching him — the way his curls fell over his face, the way he bit his lip when he concentrated.

It had been building for weeks.

The crush. The stolen glances. The feeling that maybe… just maybe… he felt it too.

And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Eddie?”

He looked up, oblivious as ever, still chewing on his pick. “Yeah?”

You exhaled.

“I… I like you. Like, really like you. And I was wondering if… you’d ever consider, maybe, I don’t know… dating me?”

Silence.

Eddie froze, the pick dropping from his lips.

For a moment, he just stared, like he hadn’t heard you right.

Then —

“Wait, what?”

You flushed. “You heard me, Munson. Do you… feel the same? Or… did I totally misread this?”

His mouth opened. Then shut.

Because, God, he did feel the same. He felt everything.

But he also heard Dustin’s voice in his head, loud and clear.

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie’s heart shattered.

He forced a strained laugh, running a hand through his curls.

“Y/N… you’re great. You really are. But… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your face fell.

“Oh.”

The smile dropped from your lips, embarrassment crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You had been so sure.

“I… I thought—”

Eddie cut you off, voice almost desperate.

“No, it’s not you. I swear. You’re amazing. I just—”

You nodded stiffly, swallowing hard.

“It’s fine. We can just… finish the project another day. I’m not feeling well.”

“Wait, sweetheart—”

But you were already closing the door behind him.

And he felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

—————

The next day was brutal.

You didn’t speak to him. Didn’t even look at him in chemistry class.

No stolen glances. No quiet jokes.

Just silence.

And it killed him.

—————-

At lunch, Dustin was the first to say something.

“You good, man? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Eddie blinked up from where he’d been pushing his food around his tray.

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

Dustin snorted. “You’re so not fine.”

A pause. Then Dustin frowned, glancing between Eddie and where you sat, equally miserable, across the cafeteria.

“Okay, what happened? You and my sister look like someone just kicked your puppies.”

Eddie hesitated.

Then he sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

“I messed up, man. She… she told me she liked me. And I said no.”

Dustin blinked. “Wait, what? But… you like her too. It’s so obvious—”

Eddie groaned. “I know! But you told me she was off-limits, dude! You literally made me promise!”

Dustin paled.

“Oh. Oh, crap.”

“Yeah. Crap.” Eddie stared at the table, voice quieter. “She’s the only girl I’ve ever felt like this about. And I just crushed her because I didn’t wanna lose you as a friend.”

Silence.

Dustin opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Then—

“Dude. I was being an idiot. I thought you’d mess around and break her heart or something, but… you care about her. And she clearly cares about you too.”

Eddie blinked. “You’re not mad?”

Dustin shook his head. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me sooner. Go fix it, Munson.”

——-

That night, Eddie showed up on your doorstep.

You opened it, blinking in surprise.

“Eddie? What are you—”

He cut you off, words tumbling out.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t say no because I don’t care. I said no because I do care. And because I was scared. Your brother told me to stay away before we even met, and I didn’t wanna lose him as a friend. But pushing you away hurt worse. I like you, Y/N. So much.”

You stared, heart pounding.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

Eddie winced. “I’m an idiot?”

You gave a watery laugh.

And when he hesitantly reached for your hand — fingers brushing, warm and gentle — you didn’t pull away.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I deserve that.”

“But… I like you too.”

His whole face lit up.

And when he kissed you, slow and soft, everything finally felt right.

The End.

[simonghostrileys]

i just had a breakdown over my dentist causing me black triangles on my bottom teeth by using a dental floss thicker and rougher than the one i use

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨

　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x grumpy!reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N gets into a fight because of Matt.

WARNING: Physical fight, blood, injuries, anger issues.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N was leaning against her locker in the hallway of her school during a free period, just waiting for the triplets' last class to finish so they could leave.

The girl had her backpack at her feet, her eyes discreetly running over the people circling the hallway, a bored expression on her face, her body language relaxed but attentive.

Her attention to the movement led her to eavesdrop on the conversation between the two most popular and disgusting girls in school, who were a little further ahead of her with their backpacks on their shoulders and arms crossed, wearing their cheerleader uniforms as if it was the only clothes they had at home.

"I don't know how they weren't embarrassed enough to go and create a YouTube channel, it's obvious that they will never become famous, you know?" Kelly, the "lider of the cheerleaders" was talking to her friend, Jennifer, a look of indifference on her face.

"Yeah, they are so weird." Jennifer agreed, rolling her eyes as she chewed her gum annoyingly.

Y/N stared at them blankly from afar, her jaw clenched and her lips in a thin line as she felt anger rise through her body like lava.

"The worst of all is that Matt guy, he's going to be their ruin-"

That was the last straw for Y/N, her feet moved before she could process what she was doing, and before she knew it, she was behind Kelly, her right hand adorned with her recently manicured nails grabbed the girl's hair, yanking her head back. Without letting go of the bunch of hair in her hands, she used her strength to push Kelly's body towards the floor, throwing her there.

"You bitch!" Kelly shouted, catching the attention of those around her, looking at Y/N from where she was with boiling eyes, her skirt lifting a little as she tried to get up, but before she could do so, Y/N sat on her legs, trapping her so that she couldn't move.

"I'll show you who the bitch is." Y/N spoke through gritted teeth, her right hand curling into a fist and going against the face of the girl below her, smiling satisfied when she heard a pop coming from her "perfect" nose.

Kelly screamed in pain and anger, acting on impulse as she raised her hand that wasn't trying to stop Y/N from doing something again, hitting the side of her face, scratching deeply into her flushed cheek, causing a trickle of blood to run from there and down her neck, hot with anger, hitting the necklace that Matt had given her and that she hasn't taken off since.

Y/N turned her face to the side at the impact, her mouth opening in surprise and anger.

"I'll kill you." Y/N's voice came out angrily, her right hand grabbing the hair on the top of Kelly's head, lifting her head and pushing it back with some force, slamming it against the floor.

Y/N stood up after that, knowing that Kelly couldn't do anything else to her because she was disoriented, and feeling satisfied with her work.

"Do you want to be next?" She asked, looking at Jennifer with disdain as her hands touched the deep scratch, then lowered them only to see her fingers covered in blood, running her tongue through her lips tasting the metallic in there.

"You crazy bitch! You ruined my clothes!" Kelly screamed, trying to sit up with one hand while the other touched her blood-stained cheerleader blouse.

"Say Matt's name one more time and it won't just be your ridiculous outfit that will be ruined." The girl argued, shooting Kelly a look before walking over to her backpack, picking it up angrily and starting to walk towards the cafeteria, ignoring the looks of everyone around her.

Y/N knew that the triplets would be waiting for her in there after their last class, exactly because that class was the closest to the cafeteria, and all she needed most at that moment was Matt, the only one who could calm her down before she punched somebody else.

"Move." Y/N said angrily to the boy who was in front of the door, pushing him hard and entering the space, running her eyes through the place and sighing in relief when she found her boyfriend at one of the tables, accompanied by his brothers.

“Matt, isn’t that Y/N?” Nick asked from afar, staring in a certain direction with surprised eyes.

Matt quickly looked up from his phone, turning his head back, his eyes widening comically when he saw the state of Y/N, who looked like she just came out of one of the Scream franchise movies.

It didn't take long for the girl to catch up with them, sitting next to Nick and facing Matt, smiling a mischievous smile.

"What the hell happened?" Her boyfriend questioned her, his blue eyes traveling over Y/N's bloodied face, clothing, and hands.

Chris reached into one of the pockets of Nick's backpack, pulling out a package of tissues he kept there for emergencies and handing it to Matt, who opened it and leaned over the table to get better access to the wounds.

"Don't worry, it's not my blood. At least not most of it." Y/N responded, allowing Matt to bring one of his hands to her injured face, trying to clean the blood that was almost dry.

"That doesn't calm me down at all." Matt grumbled back, ignoring when Y/N winced as he ran the tissue over the scratch.

"Who and what?" Nick asked excitedly, placing his arms on the table and leaning there so that he was in Y/N's field of vision, as if it were the most amazing situation of his life, making Matt hit his leg with his foot and Chris roll his eyes.

"Kelly and Jennifer. It was about time someone put those bitches in their place." Y/N summed it up, shrugging her shoulders as if it was nothing, but the look Nick was giving her made her roll her eyes. "And they talked about Matt."

Matt momentarily stopped his movements, staring at her in disbelief.

"You got into a fight because of me? Again?" He questioned, frowning. Guilt beginning to take over his heart, he didn't like seeing Y/N in fights and getting hurt, much less because of him.

"Stop being ungrateful, your girl defended your honor!" Chris exclaimed, hitting Matt on the shoulder, making him move his hand away from Y/N's face instantly, afraid of hurting her with the sudden movement caused by Chris action.

"Chris!"

"Sorry."

Matt sighed, closing his eyes and using the index finger and thumb of his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down.

"You know I don't like you getting into fights like that, baby. One day you're going to end up getting kicked out of school, or you're going to find someone crazier than you who is going to hurt you badly." Matt spoke softly, resting his hand with the tissue on the table as his free hand traveled to his girlfriend's face, caressing her bruise-free cheek and carefully moving away the strands of hair stuck on her face.

"I know." She whispered back, closing her eyes due to the caress and lowering her head, feeling embarrassed by Matt's gaze. "I'll try to control myself, but I can't guarantee that I'll hold back if I hear someone talking about you in that way again." Y/N spoke, looking up through her lashes.

"Did you at least break her nose?" Matt asked, looking back at her with his eyebrows raised suggestively, his hand still against her rosy cheek. Surprise passed through Y/N's eyes before she nodded proudly, a smirk growing on her face.

Nick laughed at the interaction, raising his right hand in the air towards Y/N, who did the same, completing the high five.

"Obviously I broke her nose, I almost brought all her hair as a gift too." The girl said, opening a big smile when she received a high five from Chris as well.

Matt shook his head, letting out a low laugh.

"That's my girl."

[queenimmadolla]

drabbles! how about reader and eddie telling penny and wayne theyre expecting maple?

𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠��𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 (don't have to read but you'll want to)

“I’ll tell them. It’s fine.” Your voice sounds so defeated over the phone and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hates it, hates that he’s the reason for it. 

  Here he is, telling you everything’s gonna get better, that the two of you will be okay—that your family will be okay, and already he’s had to let you down. 

  After a particular nasty fight that led to a comforting tryst, you were pregnant again. Giving Eddie his third baby. And all he’s given you lately is disappointment.

  “This leg is just three weeks, baby.” He promises, voice urgent because you have to believe him. Things have gotten shitty between the two of you but Eddie’s determined to change them, needs you to know that, “I’ll make it home on our off days.”

  But he won’t be home when you’re telling his kids they’re getting another sibling. It’s fucked. And he wants to argue, tell you to just wait until he gets back in town this week—but the thing is, even though he’s promising and desperately hoping he’ll be able to make it, it would be just his luck for something to happen at the last minute.

  He wants to punch a wall until his bones tear through the skin of his knuckles.

  “Okay, Eds.” Still defeated, but you don’t sound like you hate him, a change from recent phone conversations and you’re short with him so he knows you don’t want to talk to him for much longer.

  He does take a few moments, eyes still shut as he hones in on your breathing. Trying to imagine you right next to him instead of thousands of miles away.

   “I know things aren’t as pleasant as we want them to be. I swear to god, they’re gonna change. I’m not losing you. I’m not. I love you, baby.” He whispers, voice low and raspy. He’s fully expecting the love you, too followed by dial tone, so Eddie practically starts silently weeping when he gets more than that.

   “I love you, too, Eddie.” It doesn’t sound distant, as though you were already mentally out of the conversation. You’re still present for it, and it doesn’t sound like a weight on you. 

  The dial tone doesn’t come, you’re waiting for Eddie to end the phone call. A change.

  With a faint sniffle, and after a few more moments of comforting silence, he does.

  You hang the phone back on the receiver then pad over to the living room. The tv is on, some animated film displayed on the screen that manages to hold your children’s attention. Not much could do that as of late.

  “You guys got a minute?” You ask, making yourself comfortable on one end of the couch. Your five year-old son, Wayne, moves over to you and practically wraps your arms around him as he cuddles into your side. 

  Penny mutes the TV with the remote and you know you have their full attention.

   “I know things have felt a little weird lately, but I don’t want you to think it’s a bad thing, okay? Things are just changing.”

   “Like what?” Penny asks, giving you the perfect opportunity. This has to be a good, has to be a positive thing happening for them even though you had no idea how to feel yourself. 

  “Like the amount of troublemakers under my roof.”

  Penny’s gasp is loud and dramatic, eyes wide in excitement as she immediately catches onto your meaning. 

  “ARE YOU GONNA HAVE A BABY?!”

  Wayne’s face is the opposite of Penny’s, mouth wide open and looking downright offended with the level of side-eye he’s giving you. His top lip is curled in disgust, gums and teeth on display. You would have thought you’d just stolen his childhood instead of just telling him you’re pregnant.

  Oh, boy.

  At least, you’d have something funny to break the ice with when Eddie called in a few hours.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter five

Aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Fridays are the only day you carve out time for lunch. Less than coincidentally, Fridays are also the only day lunch is catered.

“Here-” Izuku jams his bowl of take out into Katsuki’s face. “Does it smell like there’s peanuts in here?”

Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku’s fiance, is only half as ornery as he looks. A premature wrinkle has formed in between his brows, a sign of his almost constant annoyance. His straw colored hair is a sharp contrast to his deep red eyes, currently narrowed in disgust.

“Get this shit out of my fucking face,” he groans. “I’m not a fucking allergy alert dog-- I can’t smell peanuts.”

“To be fair-” Ochako interjects through a mouthful. She’s the opposite of Katsuki: dark hair, round eyes, a smile so sweet that it makes your teeth hurt. Her cheeks are always flushed, spots of broken blood vessels spattered like freckles. “Peanuts do have a smell.”

“Did you ask him to smell for penis?” Denki says, too loud to be genuine. “Kind of homophobic to ask a gay guy that.”

Both men give him identical deadpan stares.

“That’s just his fucking country-ass accent.” Katsuki brushes Denki off and turns back to the curly haired man. “Why would chicken have peanuts in it anyway?”

“The o’l.” Izuku stresses.

“The what?”

“Some places use peanut o’l.”

“Say oil.”

Izuku sneers a bit in return, smoothing out the curves of his accent. “Oy-I’ll.”

“Jesus christ, I’m marrying a hick.” Katsuki leans back in his chair and meets your eye with a jerk of his chin. “Can you believe this?”

You snap back into focus. Your own lunch is untouched, fork still in its little plastic wrapper. Hunger nips at your stomach, but nausea wins over today. The cafeteria isn’t very busy, but in the next couple minutes everyone will start pouring in. The lot of you arrived early to get the best seating-- a little couch and coffee table in the corner, a perfect place to eat and people watch.

“Oh, yeah, uh- Izuku, they have an allergen free option.”

“Well, yeah, but-” He tilts his head as he talks, watching you with those wide, green eyes, like he sees something just below the surface. “It doesn't have chicken-- are you good?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Katsuki fingers a piece of Izuku’s food and pops it into his mouth, much to the man’s dismay. “You’ve been making that sad little face all day.”

You pout a bit harder at that. Shit-- you thought you were being subtle. You haven’t been able to walk this whole Aizawa thing off yet, despite all of your attempts. No amount of emails, meetings, and other petty office bullshit managed to distract you from the absolute shock and humiliation of… whatever that was.

Embarrassment.

Embarrassment? You’re certainly not the prettiest girl in the office, but embarrassing? That makes your gums ache, like a punch to the nose, and it makes you feel dirty, like the fall to the ground afterwards.

“You’re doing it again.” Ochako points to your face and it’s apparently sadness. “What’s going on?”

You hem a bit, before condensing it the best you can.

“I’m having issues with a guy.” What an understatement.

A collective glance is shared between the group.

“Touya again?”

Again, Touya haunts a room he’s never been in. You debate what to say. If you admit to it being someone new, they might start sniffing around and jump to conclusions-- though Aizawa would certainly be the last assumption they would make, you still can’t risk it. Besides, you don’t need a gaggle of 23 year olds dissecting your every move. They’re going to jump to some stupid conclusion, like you’re dating Toshinori, if you aren’t careful.

“Yeah, it’s Touya,” you lie, as sheepishly as you can. “Oops.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard that you imagine his brain must hurt. “Again?”

“Shh, just tell us what happened,” Izuku urges, elbowing his partner rather sharply.

“I don't know where I stand with him. It's so-- Ugh, I thought things were going to start going well and then it was just ice cold.” You press your palms into your eyes and sigh. The pressure feels good and helps with the remnants of your hangover. You need an electrolyte drink, stat. Maybe another fucking drink too. “And I’m not even sure why I’m surprised because it’s ice cold a lot.”

When you look up, Ochako is offering a hand, palm up and open. When you take it, she giggles a bit, squeezing gently.

“I think you need to prioritize yourself.”

Denki nods in agreement, cheeks stuffed with food. He’s finished his meal and started stabbing bits of yours. You just push the whole bowl towards him in defeat and slump down into the couch.

“Stop giving men who treat you poorly the time of day.” Ochako says. “When you let them in again and again, you’re basically, like, giving them permission to do this stuff.”

“Yeah!” Denki says through a mouthful. “Cut that fucker off! Don’t even talk to him!”

“Oh, I dunno--” You glance between them. “I think that’d be mean.”

Conflict makes your head spin. It’s so much easier to roll over and take whatever people give you, negative or otherwise. It’s what made your relationship with Touya work-- and it’s what’s allowed you to stay in this job for so long.

“Good!” Denki says. “He deserves it.”

“You deserve to be a little mean and a little angry when people treat you poorly.” She smiles again, wider this time. “Grow some balls. Stand up for yourself.”

“Yeah! Balls!” Denki agrees.

You suck on your bottom lip and turn the idea over in your head. Are you even angry at Aizawa? Or just hurt and confused? Right now, those things may as well be the same thing-- they certainly burn the same in your chest. Cruelty isn’t your usual indulgence…

But it’s someone else’s.

“What do you think?” You turn to Katsuki, who’s been scrolling through twitter for a bit now. His face doesn’t change when he speaks, locked into a general annoyance.

“I think you should kill that fucker.”

You turn to Izuku, the rational one of the couple. He shrugs, straw in mouth and completely unamused.

“Oh, I also think you should kill him,” he says, tone matching Katsuki’s.

Not helpful.

“Listen--” Katsuki leans forward, elbows on his spread knees. He uses a fork to articulate as he speaks. “I’m the expert on being a cunt-”

“-we don’t use that word!” Ochako grimaces.

“And it’s the most freeing and addictive thing you can be.” The tongs of the fork point directly towards you, as sharp as his gaze. “More people should be cunts more often. The world would be a happier place.”

Ochako gasps. “I don’t agree with that at all!”

“Oh please, miss goody-goody,” Katsuki sneers. “You wouldn't need to go to kickboxing five times a week if you let your anger out day to day like a normal motherfucker.”

The girl of the group puffs out her cheeks, but does not argue back. Izuku pats her shoulder affectionately. His food is still untouched, but his free hand guards it from Denki.

“I'm telling you. Try it out. You’ll like it.” Katsuki leans back into his seat. “Or don't. Your life.”

“Question-” The other blonde pipes up. “Did you, like, do something?”

“Kaminari!”

“I mean, like, was there a catalyst?” “A fight or a date or-?”

You know exactly what drives Touya away everytime, but Aizawa is a new beast. Did you breathe wrong or--

“Oh, I uh,” A realization hits you. “I ignored a couple texts, I guess.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of the outline of your phone and how it presses into your pocket. If there wasn’t a chance of you flashing the group pictures of their boss, you’d check it immediately, but you can’t mentally handle the risk.

“What an overreaction,” Ochako sighs. “Dump him forever and move on-- Mr. Hizashi and his wife-”

“We aren’t like that.” Ugh. You love Hizashi, but the trio relationship isn’t your speed. “Besides, I don’t like blondes.”

The two toe-heads of the group roll their eyes in a practiced synchrony. Ochako’s smile changes a little bit, something tighter and brighter; is she excited that you aren’t interested? Interesting and a bit gross: she’s too young for that. They’re more than ten years older than her-

(How old is Aizawa? He went to school with Hizashi, so he’s at least 38-- but you could have sworn there were whispers of his fortieth last year. You’ll have to snoop.)

“We’re in agreement. Be a cunt, move on. The end.” Katsuki turns away from you, done with this topic. “Izuku, just fucking eat it already.”

The boy takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his curly hair. “Well, alright, but if I get hives, you’re the one who has to deal with me.”

…

Be mean.

You’re written it on a sticky note and placed it under your computer monitor, like some sort of fucked up mantra. The mere idea of it feels antithetical to who you are at your core; you enjoy helping people, you love making the world better. That’s why you work like a dog for the company-- you know it’s improving the lives of its customers. If Toshinori wasn’t sick, you know he’d be doing even more too.

On the other hand, being nice has led to your own detriment many times. Touya has hurt you, your parents, and now even Aizawa. And you can’t even blame Aizawa, can you? Texting him was your mistake--

You rest your forehead against your desk. There’s still a sticky spot from when you spilled your coffee yesterday. God, yesterday feels so close and yet so far away. How does a man yoyo between yelling at you, sending you his weiner, then telling you that you’re embarrassing? The idea of ‘always wanted you’ goes flying out the window.

Just as you try and put yourself to work, you hear it. The familiar lopsided stomp. Fuck, it’s him, probably looking for his afternoon coffee. He’s been by much less than usual, a fact you’re very grateful for, so you haven’t even thought about the pot since before lunch. You glance over and see it’s empty. Crap.

As you start to get up, the sticky note catches your eye again. Be mean. That’s right. Why are you popping out of your chair for this, this, this--- total fucking cunt? Your chair squeaks with the force you sit down with. You try to embody Katsuki with your face - furrowing your brow and yet keeping your mouth unaffected-- and your worst nightmare turns the corner.

You keep typing and hope Aizawa doesn't notice that it's the same words over and over again, hit in the same rhythm. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. He waits a long moment, then clears his throat louder. You don't gift him your attention until he grumbles something under his breath, shifting his weight on to his other leg. Just as he begins to say something, you interject.

“I had more important things to focus on,” you lie. “You can figure out how to brew coffee, Mr.// Engineer.”

You throw in that last bit without thinking, but the bite rolls so easily off of your tongue. It’s nothing like your usual tone, but it feels so, so right. From the corner of your vision you can see his literally reel back, blinking hard,

“That’s how it’s going to be?”

You don’t respond. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. Your fingers shake from the adrenaline boost. Ochako was right; don't even give this man the time of day.

“It's going to be like that?” He yanks the pot from its stand. “Fine.”

You have to muster all of willpower not to grin as he starts slamming open the drawers and scrounging around for supplies. It takes a whole ten minutes before he presses brew, then another five before the pot is almost half full. The whole time he grumbles to himself, leaning his whole weight against the flimsy table.

This is good. Too good. The vindictive rush of power feels almost sexual in the way it satisfies. Teeth dig into your lip as you hold back a smile even harder.

Embarrassment? You'll show him what embarrassment really means.

Finally, he pours himself a cup. He doesn't fill his thermos nearly as much as he normally does, most likely trying to leave as quickly as possible. Just as he starts to turn, you get up out of your chair and walk over. You take one of the little disposable cups from the stack and take your time adding three sugars and two cream, each one at a time, as he lurks there. Then, you pour the coffee, thick and oddly gritty into your cup. You finally meet his eye when you take a swig.

Aizawa’s face is set hard, small eyes narrowed even tighter. His lips are screwed up with annoyance, wrinkling his low bridged nose. Pissed would be an understatement. Just as you brace for another yelling match, he turns away, marching down the hall.

“Enjoy the fucking coffee.”

Oh, Katsuki was right. Being mean tastes good.

….This coffee, however, does not.

[dcangel]

https://media4.giphy.com/media/oUMlBq55tkfsI/giphy.gif?cid=2154d3d7tyqfy3s47rkdws1wcn3bvxc1tp2xu9t5lq5vtwsy&ep=v1_gifs_related&rid=giphy.gif&ct=g

^^^this gif with Stiles Stilinski if you don’t mind:)

omg ofc ofc!! (link)

also idk how long this ask has been in here, i’ve had my tumblr notifications off bc i was getting spammed from the percy jackson & kronos post, but im grateful for the suggestion<33

mature themes below the cut

the word ‘please’ wasn’t acquainted with stiles’ vocabulary. when he wanted something, he took it. and you willingly gave it up.

yet he found it slipping from his swollen lips like any other word.

your thighs were on either side of his jeans clad hips, your chest pressed to his. though equally clothed, you could feel his desire, his need.

his hands gripped your thighs, fingertips reaching your inner thigh. words were exchanged, but sentences were left unfinished. the air in your lungs wasn’t nearly enough to be considered substantial, the burn coating your throat only served as validation.

the thick, hot air hung heavily around the two of you, tainted with the scent of his cologne and a slight tinge of mint from the gum you had been chewing moments before he placed you on top of him.

you’re core went limp when his hand guided your hips in one swift motion over his, leaving you to chase the sensation just to get another bout of pleasure. so much for the ab strength you’d been working on in the gym while stiles worked towards lacrosse fitness goals.

at times stiles would whine for his own sake, wanting nothing more than to simply sit back and let you take the reigns, but he wanted to work for it today. he wanted to earn that feeling he got from seeing you get off from his doing, or to see the way your face scrunched and your eyebrows knit, your lip being tucked between your teeth while the moans and appreciative mumbles slipped past the small spaces.

“please, baby,” his hands groped at your ass, fingers digging into the covered flesh before releasing as if he hadn’t known his own strength, “you gotta let go. let me guide you.”

the temptation was strong, and you could nearly feel the reward brewing in your gut. but it was hard for you to let him be the one doing the care taking. you couldn’t help that it was in your nature to please others. “i can’t.” you whimpered lazily against his kiss-bitten lips.

a large hand made its way up your side, taking its time to pass over each curve like every little detail, though contained under fabric, was being committed to memory to improve earlier versions. his thumb took a swipe at the underwire of your bra, leaving the slightest tingling sensation.

the other hand sent for the spot you couldn’t keep from dragging across his confined bulge. his fingers slid beneath the fabric of your shorts, stopping once they reached the damp spot on the front of your panties that they’d been looking for. he pressed his thumb to your puffy clit, applying nothing but that small amount of pressure with the pad of his thumb. “yes you can. i know you can.”

his dragged his thumb over and around your swollen bud, drawing a small moan from you, temporarily delaying your movements.

“n…i can’t.” you protested, weakness evident. “please,” you uttered, feeling your hips betray you by grinding downward on his hand.

stiles, emboldened by the move, decided to be greedy. his middle finger snuck under the soaked cloth, finding the source for the wetness instantly. “’feels like you can.” he jeered, smirking against your lips.

the hair at his nape was targeted as a way to ground yourself; your fingers tugging at the brown locks. “stiles, please, i…” his finger gently sunk into you, making you forget your powerless argument.

he smiled and pulled his face from yours, not letting himself miss this perfect view. “that sounds more like it.” his sarcastic tone made the taunt seem snarky. condescending, even.

you felt another long, slim finger easily slid into your wetness, joining the other in stroking your welcoming walls. the energy to keep yourself up right was not found, instead going to the potential build up of something satisfying. you let your limp torso softly collide with his, leaning forward with most of your weight.

amidst the turmoil in your mind, stiles had subtly retracted his fingers, allowing space for him to sink them back in, his two fingers curling as they did so. “’need you to be a good girl and let me help you, alright?”

[pricelessemotion]

love is kinda crazy (with a spooky little boy like you) | E.M.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: [2.4k] eddie takes you on that halloween date. it doesn’t go quite like you expected.

warnings: pure fluff, a little awkward date shenanigans, r is described as having frizzy hair and wearing prescription glasses, r also has an (unnamed) sister

a/n: ah! i’ve been dying to write and post a part two for this fic since halloween and i thought there was no better time to post it than now! happy valentine’s day 🖤

masterlist | part one

“There, perfect!” Your sister punctuates the end of her makeover with the snap of her powder compact and the flourish of a makeup brush. 

You turn slowly, the pink cushioned stool a little wobbly under your unsteady frame. Your reflection looks comical, all blurred edges and wavy lines. Without your glasses, the bedroom vanity has turned into a funhouse mirror. 

“What does it matter if I’m going on a date with him if I can barely see him?”

You don’t need glasses to know that she’s rolling her eyes. Even though you can’t quite see her, you can hear her exasperation in the way she’s loudly chewing her gum. “You’re going to the movies, you’re barely gonna be able to see him anyway. Besides, you’ll be able to see him when he’s close enough to kiss and that’s the whole point.”

You blink each eye one at a time, trying to gauge which one is better. Your left eye is slightly clearer, though the difference is negligible. “I think you’re severely overestimating my eyesight.” 

“I think you’re severely underestimating my dating advice.” She blows a bubble, the view of her face becoming a bright pink smudge before it pops and she continues smacking. “Just trust me, it’ll all be fine.”

You do trust her. Even though she has spent the last two hours plucking and primping and preening, you want to take her advice. She’s not doing this to be condescending or controlling. She’s genuinely excited that you have a date, even more so that it’s with a living breathing human boy and not another library book. 

You don’t have much experience. With dating, with seeing someone, with kissing someone. What it means to be dating someone versus what it means to be seeing someone. What you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone. I mean, are your lips supposed to be on top of each other or are they supposed to interlock like the teeth of a zipper? Yeesh, you didn’t even wanna think about how teeth and tongues factor into the equation. 

These types of questions would usually be the kind that you would ask an older sister. You’ve just never had the bravery to say them out loud. Sure, you’ve watched romance movies and rewound and observed so much that you were afraid the tape in the VHS was going to break. And you’ve read enough romance that Ms. Marissa gives you side-eye when you pass the library’s reception desk. But there’s a difference between fiction and real life. A bridge you’ve yet to cross. You’re sure that you’re going to need all the help you can get.  

So, you heed her advice. You let her spray you with enough Aquanet to try to keep the flyaways at bay. You let her paint your lips with a shimmery pink lip gloss that isn’t too sticky and tastes like vanilla. You don’t, however, let her see you sneak the thick frames into your bag for emergencies. If it were up to her, the frames would be set out with Thursday’s garbage and you’d be wearing contacts like everyone else in your age group. 

She drops you off at The Hawk with another smack of her bubblegum and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She barely waits for you to close the door of the station wagon before she’s speeding away, her Halloween plans including a keg, a pushup bra, and a slightly inebriated Steve Harrington. 

Eddie’s easy to spot. His silhouette sticks out against the brick building, white shirt, black leather, and blue denim against a red background. He lights up when he sees you and it’s the first time you’ve understood the meaning of the phrase. Since you can’t quite see his face clearly, you’re paying extra attention to his body. The way he pushes off the wall to stand tall. The way his shoulders visibly relax. You bet that they could see his smile all way in Indianapolis. 

“I know you’re usually supposed to give flowers on dates, but this is the best I could do.” 

He presents an origami paper flower in the shape of a rose. It’s made from binder paper, evident by the familiar feel of it in your hands. The folds are a bit unsure. There’s evidence of it being undone and folded again with a cleaner precision, you can feel the wear and tear on the paper with your fingertips. You’re dumbfounded. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, twirling the stem between your thumb and forefinger, watching the rosebud spin. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.” 

“Never?” He gapes at you in apparent disbelief before he schools his expression. “Well then, I’m glad to be the first.” He offers his arm to you like a real gentleman and you take it. 

The leather in the crook of his elbow is cold to the touch, but being in such close proximity you can feel the body heat radiating off of him. 

“It’s a continuous marathon, so they’re showing movies all night. We can start with any one that you want.” He gestures up to the marquee above the concession stand. When you look up to the sign, the words might as well be written in Cyrillic the way the letters all blur together. 

After a trip to the concessions stand, the two of you eventually settle on The Exorcist, which you had decided to cling to after Eddie’s nervous yet adorable rambling about which movie would be better to start with. 

Horror movies are even scarier when you can’t tell what’s going on. It didn’t occur to you how much you relied on sight to be able to mentally prepare for jump scares. Eddie must think you’re a total wimp the way you practically leap out of your seat at every flash on the silver screen that accompanies a discordant string of violins. 

You jump when you feel a hand brush your bicep, your arms flinging out. It’s much too late when you realize that intimate touch was Eddie trying to figure out if you were alright. The large Coke that Eddie had gotten–two straws because he said he didn’t wanna be presumptuous–the casualty of your fright. The flimsy lid pops off like it has nothing better to do and the dark brown liquid splashes over the arm of the seat right into Eddie’s lap. 

Eddie recoils, half-jumping and half-hovering in his seat because he just got a handful of ice-cold soda in his crotch. The people behind you are jeering, grumbling about the disturbance and Eddie half-whispers fucking shit under his breath, in what you’re sure must be a mixture of disdain and disgust.  

You pull napkins out of your purse and thrust them in Eddie’s direction before rushing out of the theater, chest heaving and eyes stinging. 

It’s a wonder you don’t trip and fall on your way out. You’ve walked these dimly lit halls hundreds of times, so luckily instinct and muscle memory win out and you make it out of the theater mostly unscathed, just with a few bruises on each shoulder. Nothing compared to the mortification of what had happened inside. 

Because it’s October in Indiana and you can’t seem to catch a break, it’s raining. Only every so slightly, but enough that you’d be soaked to the bone if you walked home thanks to your sister’s insistence that you dress for fashion and not function. You huddle close to the payphone, pondering if you have enough change to call around and get your sister to pick you back up because no way are you waking up your parents for this. 

The doors to the theater creak open behind you and suddenly you’re not alone anymore. The biting cold chills you to the bone but it’s Eddie’s presence behind you that sets you on fire. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last hour and a half in the dark with your nerves on edge, but the tenderness in Eddie’s voice makes your throat constrict. 

“I’m sorry,” You blubber. “I’m so embarrassed. I just wanted everything to be perfect and I ruined it.” 

“Hey. Hey.” Eddie repeats himself more forcefully when you don’t meet his gaze the first time, “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s just a little soda. I’ll live.” 

His fingers rub the back of your hands in a soothing motion. Back and forth, thumbs caressing the valleys between your knuckles. He’s close enough that his features are almost in focus. You still have to squint. 

“You keep doing that.” He points his fingers toward your furrowed brow before mimicking the action on his own face. The finger is not accusatory, it just seems like Eddie likes to talk with his hands. 

You sigh, a resigned and weary sound. “My sister convinced me that I shouldn’t wear my glasses.” 

Eddie makes a face that you can’t quite discern in the dark before letting out a soft hmph! “Your sister kinda sounds a little mean.” 

“She means well.” You defend, weakly. You love your sister to death but there are times that your differences become much too apparent and that leaves you with nothing to do but suffer the consequences. This is one of those times. 

“Did you bring them with you?” 

“Yeah,” You reach into your bag, finding the frames folded into one of the inner pockets. 

Eddie takes them and puts them on you. “You keep doing that.” You murmur, a repeat of his earlier accusation. Now, though, you both know it’s in reference to him adjusting your glasses not just once but twice. 

“It gives me an excuse to be close to you.” 

You can see him with unrelenting clarity now. The little crinkles next to his eyes as he smiles warmly down at you. The way the slight breeze has carried the miserable drizzle under the theater awning. The way that drizzle clings to his curly hair like dewdrops on morning grass. You almost robbed yourself of all of this, and for what? Eddie knows what you look like. 

“Y’know what I thought when I saw you yesterday?” Yesterday, when you had been wearing a witch hat on top of your frizzy hair and the same Coke bottle glasses that sit on the slope of your nose now. “I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I thought I made a fool outta myself and that you wouldn’t give me the time of day, not in a million years.” 

“The whole scaredy cat schtick was quite endearing I must say.” 

He nods seriously, just a slight hint of a smirk on his face. “I try my best.” 

You look down at the seat of his pants. Sure enough, there’s a dark stain splashed right across his crotch.“Oh god. I'm so sorry. Again” 

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“You didn’t say anything about apologizing.” 

“Well then, this is me saying something. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“It looks like you pissed yourself,” You wail mournfully. 

“Well, that definitely makes me feel better.” Eddie jests before he tugs you into his chest and plants his chin on top of your head. 

You nuzzle your face into his sternum, appreciating the soft hiss he lets out when your cold nose touches his warm skin. You inwardly groan because, quite frankly, there’s nothing more embarrassing than running out of a nearly full movie theater the way that you did. The only thing more embarrassing than that, you think, is going back inside after having embarrassed yourself. You tell Eddie as much, with the reassurance that you don’t want the date to end and if he really wants to, you can go back inside and finish the movie. He’s already tugging you toward his van that’s parked on the other side of the street, saying the six words that make your night:

“I own The Exorcist on VHS.”

You spend the entire time back in the trailer park cuddled up having quiet conversation about gory practical effects over a bowl of microwaved popcorn. The closest he gets to kissing you is when you duck into his chest to hide and his lips brush your temple. He could’ve lived off of that single brush for the rest of his life if he had to. 

When Eddie pulls up to your house later that night, he really does mean to give you an innocent kiss goodnight. The neighborhood is quiet, seeing as it’s probably been an hour since the children of Hawkins had fallen into their sugar-induced comas. He turns the engine off and shifts towards you, his smile both giddy and shy while he tells you that he had a really good time tonight. You mirror his expression and tell him the same. You both lean forward, chests rising and falling in tandem, noses brushing. 

When you finally make it past the front door, your lips are swollen and your glasses are fogged up. You kick off your shoes and pad up the carpeted steps two at a time, racing to your bedroom window. When you turn on your lamp and look out to the tree-lined street, Eddie waves at you, his rings glinting in the streetlight. You wave back, watching the van disappear into the distance. 

“Hey,” Your sister is leaning against the doorframe, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“How’d it go?” You’re already slightly aware of the answer since she’s standing in front of you with a freshly washed face and hand-me-down pajamas instead of in an empty house in Loch Nora. 

She shrugs noncommittally, “It was a bust.” 

You hum in solemn solidarity, trying to tug the grin on your face into a much more situationally appropriate neutral expression. You feel for her and you don’t want to rub it in her face that you had such a good time, despite her advice. Unfortunately, you do not seem to have as much control over your facial muscles as you think you do. Your sister sees right through you, grabbing the purple throw pillow at the foot of the bed and launching it at your face telling you to shut up. You catch it before it has the chance to hit you, huffing with righteous indignation at her before the two of you collapse onto the bed in muffled laughter. 

“So, how’d it go?” She whispers in your direction, mindful of your sleeping parents down the hall. 

You trace your cupid’s bow, feeling the chapped and swollen skin for the hundredth time that night. You turn your head toward hers, readjusting your glasses when they slide down your nose. 

“It was perfect.” 

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished 🖤

[samkerrworshipper]

tourniquet

leah williamson x reader

warnings: smut, self harm, hurt n comfort with fluff n protective leah. 18+ minors dni.

There was country music thrumming across the living room, drowning out the background noise that came from the bustling London street outside the door of Leah’s house. You were both lying down on her couch, lazily making out, Leah was on top of you, her lips moving rhythmically against your own. It was sweet, the taste of Leah’s spearmint gum and glass of wine welcome on your tongue as you granted her access to your mouth. All you could hear was the sound of Chris Stapleton and laboured breathing as you both took a break to breathe every once and a while. The telly was playing behind Leah, a premier league game or something that neither of you had been paying much attention to once you’d gotten your hands on each other.

Leah’s hands were gently rested on your hips, her nails grazing up and down the delicate skin, her soft and luscious lips caressing yours like you were a piece of fine china, delicate to the touch. It put you on cloud 9, just allowing yourself to be completely enveloped by the pure love and adoration that was flowing from Leah’s body to your own. You felt immaculate, like you were made of a million dollars, Leah had a habit of making you feel that way. You’d never gotten past this stage, never beyond heated kisses and little feather light touches. Leah was cautious of how young you were, and as long as you were happy so was she. But right now, all you wanted was more, you felt desperately greedy as you allowed your hips to grind up into hers. Leah didn’t even notice the first time, until you bucked them up into her and her eyes bursted open, looking at you with a mixture of shock and complete adoration.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

Leah was an absolute golden retriever, never wanting to push you more than you could handle, but that also didn’t mean that she didn’t have desires of her own, desires to make you feel better than you ever had before.

Leah lowered her lips to your neck, sucking a light mark into your unembellished skin, leaving her mark on you. You moaned open lippedly, your hips arching upwards into her own, your back attending back into the pillows.

“Lee, please.”

Leah smirked against your neck, her innocent girl begging was something that she’d never get over. She lowered her head down your neck, to the top of the tank top you were wearing, kissing along the lines of it. She moved her mouth down, to the part of your stomach that was on show, the milky abdomen that she loved so dearly. She flattened her tongue out against your stomach, making you feel better than you ever had before with her tongue sensually sliding against your soft skin. Leah’s hands moved to hook into the waistband of your shorts and suddenly your had shot out to stop her.

Leah jerked away from you, a guilty look on her face as she looked down at you with regretful eyes.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I read the situation wrong, we don’t have to do anything, I didn’t mean to push y-.”

You stopped Leah’s worrying before she could say anything else to you.

“Leah it was perfect, I wanted it. I just thought I should warn you, there’s a lot of scars on my thighs and hips, and I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about them.”

Your voice is anxious, full of uncertainty about what questions Leah might ask or what presumptions might come to her head. You knew this moment was inevitable. that as perfect has your relationship had been in the last few weeks, you were going to need to face your fears and eventually venture to this part of your relationship.

Leah moves back up your body, pressing a gentle peck to your lips and smiling against them.

“You're beautiful to me no matter what, if you feel comfortable I’d love for us to keep going. Have you done this before?”

Your lip jutted out between your teeth, your evident embarrassment about your virginity coming to light.

“Not exactly, but I’ve experimented and I feel safe with you, I don’t want us to stop.”

Leah nods her head against your lips, smiling and sliding her body back down yours, to the space she had previously occupied between your legs.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, we’ll just take it nice and slow.”

Leah’s hands rehooked into your waistband, this time with zero push back from you. When you nodded your head at her she smiled, pulling your shorts down tantalisingly slow. You bit the inside of your cheek, watching Leah’s face expressions closely as she tugged your shorts down to your knees. Suddenly you felt so vulnerable, so scared. Leah’s face didn’t falter, as she continued to tug your shorts down to your ankles and then down onto the end of the couch. She kept her eyes trained on the lines between your thighs, a completely neutral facial expression as she surveyed the tattered skin. It wasn’t something you were proud of, the raised skin all over the insides and outside of your thighs and hips. It wasn’t a pretty sight, there was a reason why you never wore bikinis in front of anybody. Leah did something you never would have expected, she leant down to the space between your thighs and gently placed a series of kisses to every single line. There were hundreds, she could spend hours between you thighs kissing them and it wouldn’t have mattered to her, all that mattered to her was making sure that you knew just how loved you were in her care.

“So beautiful, so perfect, so brave.”

Leah’s words were murmured warmly against your skin, there was nothing sexual about her actions, just complete honesty and pride at what you’d gone through to get to where you were. She took her time with the old, new, raised, red, white, faded. Every single one was equally important to her, every single one of the proof of just how brave you were, just how hard you’d fought.

“Lee, please.”

Your words were desperate, the image of Leah between your thighs mentally imprinting on your brain, like a tattoo to your skin. She was doing everything but dealing with the wet patch between your thighs though, the place where you desperately needed her the very most. Leah smiled up at you, the corners of her lips stretched tightly with a smile on her face.

“Is someone getting inpatient?”

Leah’s head came to rest on the inside of your thigh, as she looked up at you with hooded eyes that held pure desire in them.

“I need you.”

The pure want in your voice sent shivers down Leah’s back, shocking her straight to her core.

“I suppose.”

Leah’s hands came up to the elastic of your black thong, a simple enough piece, nothing particular about it, yet Leah felt like she could worship that item of clothing for months if you let her. She tugged it down though, down to your knees before deserting it and looking down to appreciate your glistening sex.

“So wet, I haven’t even touched you where it matters yet?”

You mewled at Leah, desperate for her to just give your dripping hole some much needed attention.

“Leah.”

She smirked at your needy tone, almost a whine.

“Fingers or mouth?”

It was such a simple question, and yet you struggled to answer out of the sheer amount of pleasure that the ultimatum brought you.

“Both.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Leah’s mouth was diving into your folds, licking a stripe from your clit all the way down to your hole. It was inexplicably perfect, and you let her know as much by the moans that feel sinfully from your lips. She licks again and again, and again, and again and again, until her lips finally suction to your clit and you almost fall from the couch from the electric shocks that are sent all over your body. Leah sucks gently, treating your clit like the treasure it is, savouring every single second that her mouth gets to taste you and learn what you like best.

“You taste so good, baby.”

Suddenly your hand is on top of your mouth, muffling the scream that Leah’s words force your body to produce from the pure desire coursing across your body. One of Leah’s arms comes to rest on top of your hips, to stop their unsynchronised bucking so she has a stabler grip on your pussy. Her voice sends vibrations across your sex, Leah suckles at your clit one last time before moving her head down to your hole, giving you her nose as a means to grind on. Your wound so tight from the simple actions that Leah knows you won’t last much longer, not that she minds, as long as your feeling pleasure thats what matters the most to her.

She thrusts her tongue into your sex and suddenly your thighs, the muscular thighs that not long ago Leah had been littering with adoration are wrapping around her head, somewhat cutting of Leah’s air supply. Leah doesn’t hesitate, only diving in further, helping you to chase your impending high. Leah’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pushing them open carefully so she can breathe and then diving back into your hole, thrusting her tongue in and out of it and resonating in the moans that fall from her mouth as she does. Leah’s taste buds are being completely bombarded with your scent and taste, it’s the best thing she’s ever experienced.

When she realises that you need a little bit more she brings one of her hands down from your hips and to your wetness. Your body jerks at the sensation of her rough pads making contact with your clit. Leah doesn’t spend long on it, replacing her fingers with her mouth and moving her fingers down to your clenching hole. It comes as no surprise to her when one of her digits slides in with zero resistance, your needy pussy sucking up whatever Leah gives it.

Leah begins a relentless pace, pumping her single digit in and out with rigour, It’s great, but you want and can take more.

“Leah, fuck, more.”

Leah only hums against your sensitive drippiness and on the next pump she adds another finger, slowing her strokes slightly to allow you to adjust to the intrusion. You’re so tight on her fingers, clenching down on her so hard that she has to put a little bit more effort into pushing her fingers in and out of your entrance.

When she begins to curl her fingers you're a goner, moaning wildly above her.

“Fuck Leah, fuck, fuck.”

The coil in your stomach is wound as tight as it can go, the need in your stomach at its capacity.

“Cum for me sweetheart, I’ve got you, cum all over my fingers.”

Leah’s words are enough of a booster for you, and in an almost embarrassing lot of moans and jerks your body is falling directly over the edge, your thighs shaking on either side of Leah’s head. You try to press your legs together, to protect your spasming cunt while it clenches and makes a mess all over Leah’s face, but she holds your legs open with her spare hand, desperate to see exactly what she’s done to you, the way she’s ruined your perfect little pussy. She guides you through your orgasm, gently cleaning you up with her mouth and easing her fingers out of your cunt when the aftershocks have dulled down. She cleans her fingers with her mouth, savouring the taste of you on her tongue. Once she was done cleaning up she snaked her way up your body, resting her head on your chest and admiring the thoroughly fucked-out facial expression that adorned your face.

“Your a devil.”

Leah only smiled at you, pressing a series of kisses all over your face, covering your skin with her lips.

“It was good?”

You nodded almost immediately, still shocked at how good Leah had been able to make you feel with just her fingers and mouth.

“It was perfect.”

The smile that graces Leah’s face is perfect, it’s full of happiness and pure bliss.

“Are you doing alright?”

Leah can’t help herself but ask, because the part of her that’s constantly worrying about her teammates is now worrying about you, worried if she’s been missing the signs that you're not doing okay.

“Leah I’m doing better than ever, you make me so happy, moving to Arsenal has been the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Leah nods dutifully, observing the information that warms her soul, knowing that you're happy and that her home is making you happy is music to her ears.

“Can I ask you why you do it, or did it?”

Leah’s voice is shaky, uncertain, she doesn’t want to push you, but she also wants to know this part of you, all she wants is to care about you and prove to you that she loves you like you deserve.

“How about we move up to bed and get into pjs and then I’ll explain it all to you, or as much as you want to hear?”

Leah nods quickly, pushing herself off the couch and picking you up easily, walking towards her bedroom. She helps you into the bathroom, the both of you doing your business and going about your night time routines. Whilst you’ve only been dating Leah for two months now, since you started at Arsenal, you’ve very quickly intertwined your life with hers, your toothbrush had a permanent space in Leah’s bathroom, your clothes in her wardrobe, your favourite snacks in her pantry. You stayed over at Leah’s house more often than not, claiming it was convenient because she was closer to the training ground. Leah loved your company so she was hardly one to object.

Once you’d both finished brushing your teeth and going about your nighttime skin care she dragged you into her wardrobe, throwing one of her hoodies and a pair of her boxers at you. You threw them on nonchalantly, watching curiously as Leah found her favourite oversized shirt, an old Arsenal one and a pair of sleep shorts. Once she was done you both walked into her room, her arm wrapped around your waist as she led you under the covers.

She leant her own body against the bed head, bringing your head to rest against her chest whilst she carded her fingers gently through your scalp. It was everything you’d grown to love about Leah, sure, Leah was terrifying on the pitch, terrifying as a captain, but in private she was one of the sweetest people you’d ever met.

“I started when I was 14.”

You let your words hang in the empty space, focusing on the feeling of Leah’s fingers working their way through your scalp, it was almost as good as the massages you got at the hairdressers when they were washing your hair.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Leah wants to know, she wants to know every single little detail about you, but she also doesn’t want to push you, good things come to people who wait, and as far as she’s concerned her biggest worry is you and making sure that you feel comfortable with her.

“No, I want to, I just haven’t really talked about it like this with anyone.”

Leah nods her head and continues her movements across your scalp, smiling to herself as you relax into her touch.

“It was my coping mechanism growing up, in a house with so many kids and parents who are stretched so thin isn’t easy, and I was going through a really tough time. So I turned to self harm, a few of my friends had been joking about it so I tried it. I never really did it with the attention of seriously harming myself or killing myself, it was just my stress reliever. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism, I know that, I’ve tried my hardest to quit it over the past years, I really have tried. I hae a therapist, you know that though, and we’ve been working on it for a few years, I’m 4 months clean currently, I’m trying my best.”

Leah just nods at your words, forever supportive of you.

“I’m not here to tell you what's wrong and right, obviously I would love for you not to hurt yourself, but I also understand that everyone has coping mechanisms that work for them, I bite my nails when I’m nervous, and obviously there not the same things but I have my ways of coping as well. All that matters to me is that you are happy and doing okay, you’re putting in the work through therapy, you're trying your hardest and that’s all that matters. I’m here to be your person, to be the person in your corner, not here to tell you that you’ve fucked up your life. You are so incredibly strong and brave y/n, that’s what I see in you, a girl who has struggled but she found a way to survive, a way to get herself through the day. Sure, cutting yourself isn’t the best alternative, but you learnt how to survive and I commend you for that, I commend you for finding a way to deal with all the pain that you were going through. I love you so much sweetheart, all I want is to support you and be here for whatever you need.”

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, you bring the corner of Leah’s hoodie to your eyes, wiping away the wetness from your face.

“I love you too Lee.”

She smiled down at you, your face shining under the moonlight that was flowing in through the open curtains.

“I know sweetheart, now get some sleep, we can talk as much or as little about this in the morning.”

The topic doesn’t come up for a few more weeks, both you and Leah enjoying the absolute bliss that your relationship is providing. You're riding on cloud nine at Arsenal, scoring goals in most matches and earning your spot on the squad. You feel so happy, so secure, more than you ever had at any stage in your life, it all comes crashing down after a game though.

You didn’t even notice what was happening when it was being pointed out. You were post game, getting changed in the locker rooms after a tough loss to Chelsea 3-2. You weren’t really thinking straight, if you had been you would have waited until you were in the shower cubicle to get changed, but all you wanted to do was throw on some sweats and find Leah so she could take you home. You tugged off your shorts and compression shorts without much care, slinging them into the back of your locker whilst you searched through your bag for the sweatpants that you were sure you’d packed.

“Chook, what are those?”

It’s Katie’s deep Irish accent that catches your attention, your eyes moving to meet hers, which are fixated on the outside of your thighs. Katie’s voice attracts the attention of some of your neighbouring teammates and suddenly you're frozen to your spot, staring at the same marks Katie is looking at.

“Y/n/n, goo game darling.”

It’s Leah’s arms wrapping around your shoulders that draws your attention, her eyes quickly fall to where both you and Katie are looking.

“Mccabe, do we have a problem?”

Leah’s voice is so defensive, she had known this day was going to roll around at some stage, she’s just glad that she was here for you when it happened.

“Er, I was just asking y/n about what was on her thigh.”

You body goes rigid in Leah’s arms, Leah’s defensive mode doesn’t falter though.

“Hardly any of your business, I’d think.”

Katie gulps, but her confidence doesn’t waiver, and she’s now attracted the attention of Caitlin, your national teammate who is peeping over her girlfriends shoulder to get a view at what the focus of the three of you is. Caitlin’s eyebrow raises in questioning, but she doesn’t vocalise.

“Was just curious.”

Leah glares at Katie, and you can tell by the facial expression she’s going to bring this up at a later date with her, but not right now, not when you're present.

“Take your curiosity somewhere else.”

Leah’s hands reach for your sweatpants, and you're forever grateful as she hands them to you and you quickly slip them on. Leah helps you with your hoodie and packing up your bag, before leading you out of the rooms with one of her hands on the small of your back, guiding you out to her car. You don’t say anything much on the way there, but as soon as your in the safety on Leah’s car you just turn to her.

“Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciated that.”

Your voice is quiet, shy, something that Leah wishes you’d never feel in front of her, but she understands that your teammates curiosity has gotten the best of you, and whilst she loves Katie like a sister, she’s just a little bit pissed off at her bluntness.

“Not a problem my love, I’ve got you remember, I’m here for you.”

Leah notices a change in you after that interaction, you shut down a little bit, especially in front of your teammates. She doesn’t push you, she understands that you're going through an adjustment period, plus you seem pretty happy when it’s just the two of you hanging out. That’s why she didn’t hesitate to go out tonight, it was a pre planned dinner with Alex and a few of their other mutual friends, you insisting that she go out and enjoy herself.

It’s a fairly relaxing night, Leah eats salmon and veggies, her go to when she’s out for dinner, drinks a glass of wine and catches up with her best friend, it’s nice, but she wants to come home to you, that’s why she stays sober, she doesn’t go out clubbing when Alex asks, because she has something to go home to now, somebody she can hold in her arms and feel so incredibly fulfilled. Alex jokes about Leah being completely infatuated with you, puppy love, and Leah can’t find any reason to deny it, because it’s true, she’s fallen head over heels in love with you. She leaves dinner at a more than reasonable time, just past nine.

She drives home with an almost giddy smile on her face and when she pulls into her driveway she can’t help but feel completely inebriated with the sheer amount of excitement coursing through her body at getting to see you, and love you and just be with you. She knocks her door open as she rushes through the entryway, her eyes searching for you. She doesn’t see you in the kitchen or lounge room, so after sliding her coat and shoes off she moves into her bedroom. When she doesn’t find you in bed she’s a little bit shocked, but then she hears the sound of the shower steadily beating down against the tiles of her bathroom and everything makes sense. She moves to the door, sliding it open, hoping to be rewarded with the sight of your beautiful naked form, and secretly hoping that maybe she’ll be able to join you. What she hadn’t expected was to find you sitting on her bathroom floor, a razor blade in one hand and red lines bleeding all over your thighs.

Your eyes snap up at Leah, unaware that she’d even entered the threshold of her house, let alone the bathroom that you were currently sitting on the floor in. Your eyes almost pop out of your skull, as do Leah’s as she realises exactly what’s going on. You shriek, involuntarily, absolutely terrified of the predicament that you’ve been found in. Leah freezes, her body unmoving as she stairs down at you, completely unsure what to do.

“Leah it’s not what it looks like.”

It’s exactly what it looks like, your sitting on her bathroom floor, with a razor pressed to your thigh, blood dripping steadily down you skin. It’s a sight that Leah never wanted nor expected to see, you’d been doing so well, she’d even sat in on one of your therapy appointments and talked with your psychologist about just how much of a change they’d seen in you since you’d made the move.

“Fuck-sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on you- Fuck. Fuck, I’m going to go get some towels, and bandaids, and disinfectant.”

Leah’s words come out in shambles and you manage to soothe her with your own voice.

“Leah, beside me, I’ve got it all.”

Leah’s shocked at your preparedness, her eyes darting to the pile of supplies beside you, telling her that this was clearly premeditated.

“Okay-Fuck-I’m so sorry, do you need me to help? I should help, shouldn't I? Fuck, what do you need me to do?”

You nod at Leah, the both of you are clearly so unsure about this whole interaction. Leah’s brain seems to be short circuiting, and it doesn’t help with your uncertainty.

“Leah, just leave, I can sort this out myself.”

Your voice is short, dismissive, you don’t want to push Leah out but you're also so unsure right now and Leah’s own insecurity isn’t helping you. Leah’s captain instincts seem to kick in though, and before you can object she’s shaking her head and walking towards the shower, turning it off because it’s clearly not being used and then moving to sit down next to you.

“How about you let me clean you up, hmm? We’ll talk about it later, just let me look after you, you don’t have to do this all by yourself, I’m here for you.”

You look into Leah’s eyes, and whilst there’s still uncertainty hiding in them somewhere, she looks so much surer, so much more caring and you just nod your head helplessly, like a goldfish.

Leah reaches for your pile of supplies, first reaching for a damp towel and pressing it down onto the inside of your thighs, essentially using it as a form of absorption and tourniquet for your bleeding. She holds it like that for a few minutes, just waiting for your blood to clot. Once it does she throws the towel into her hamper and reaches for the disinfectant.

“This one will burn, just be brave for me yeah, my brave, strong, beautiful girl.”

Leah’s words of comfort do wonders for you, your body relaxing as Leah moves between your thighs. She smears a dollop of the disinfectant on her finger before gently bringing the pad of her index into contact with your scars.

You groan out in pain, the disinfectant searing as it ingrains itself in the lines that you’d inflicted on yourself. Leah tries her best to be quick about it, but she also does a thorough job, ensuring that none of the lines are going to get infected. Once she’s done with the disinfectant she moves for some bandages and takes her time addressing each individual scar. Once she’s done she pressed a kiss to every mark that she’d dressed, pressing her lips gently to the bandages. It makes you think of when your mother used to kiss every single football injury you’d procure, telling you it would feel better, and it never really did make it any better, but it made you feel safer, happier, like everything would keep moving even with the pain you were feeling in the moment. This time with Leah was no different, the action making you feel all cosy and warm on the inside, something that a few minutes ago you’d felt like was completely unachievable.

“I’m going to go get some shorts and water for you, is there anything else you need?”

You shake your head shyly, and take notice of the way that Leah palms the blade that you’d previously been using and watched as her eyes search around the bathroom to see if there are any more.

“That’s the only one.”

Leah nods and smiles at you, pressing a kiss to the point of you nose before leaving the bathroom.

She isn’t gone long, returning in a record amount of time with the water and shorts she’d gone out to get and a protein bar. She opens the bottle and packet of the bar for you, handing them to you whilst she sits herself back down in front of you and helps you into she shorts, being eternally careful of the bandages that she’d just put on your legs.

Once you’d drunk the water and eaten the bar she gives you a lopsided smile, on that tells you that you have a lot to talk about.

“How about we get into bed chook, tonights been a lot.”

You nod at Leah, she helps you off the floor and leads you into the bed, tucking you under the covers before lying down beside you.

Leah wraps one around your waist, her hand coming to hover on top of the scars that not long ago you’d inflicted on your own skin.

“I’m sorry.”

Your words are a whisper, meant for only you and Leah, not that there’s anybody in earshot to hear you.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for chook.”

Leah’s words come out as a sigh, she’s disappointed in you for a series of reasons, but not because of your actions.

“Why do you look disappointed then?”

Your hands fiddling with the corner of your pillow, your eyes trained on Leah as she ums and ahs over how to answer that question in the best way. She lets out a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m disappointed in myself for not seeing that you were struggling this much. Never at you though, I told you that I understand why you do this, and I meant it. I’m a little bit disappointed that you didn’t try to talk to me, but I understand that it’s not always that easy, I’m worried about you more than anything, chook and I was just a little bit shocked when I walked in on you. That’s not to say that I’m in any way shape or form angry with you, I could never be angry at you, I’m just doing a lot of thinking.”

You nod at Leah, trying to compartmentalise every single word that leaves her mouth.

“I didn’t want to bother you, especially when you were so excited to see Alex.”

Leah bites down on the inside of her cheek, she feels a little bit guilty about the fact that Alex had taken priority over you, tonight of all nights.

“Baby, I don’t care if I’m in the World Cup final, I want you to talk to me when your struggling. I love Alex, yes. But there’s a reason I came home so early to you tonight, because I wanted to spend my night cuddled up in bed with you, because that’s how I love to spend my free time, with you. I would pick you over anyone else in the world. You can always call me, I’m always here for you, I’m always going to be your crutch or tourniquet.”

Leah’s words bring tears to your eyes that you didn’t know where there, and it pulls a guttural sob from your lungs.

“I’m sorry, I was just so stressed, and feeling so alone and it was all I could think about, so I walked down to the drugstore and bought a blade, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to use it, but then it was in my palm and it felt so good and I missed it so much, but then you were home and I realised that I don’t have to do this anymore, because you make me so happy, you make life worth living and you make my world turn.”

Leah brings her hand up to rest on your cheek, her fingers brushing away the stray hairs that are falling down in front of your eyes.

“I love you too chook, you make me happier than anybody else in the world. I’m by your side for it all, this world will never be enough for you but I’ll try to okay, from now on it’s you and me against the world, and if you feel like this I want you to talk to me about it. I’m not going to try and stop you, but at least I’ll be by your side, I’ll bandage up your body and your bones and every single one of your bad days as well, okay? Just promise me that your going to try and talk to me about it, that’s all I care about, that you feel safe enough with me that you can talk to me.”

You nod at Leah, the fat, warm, wet tears dripping down your face. Leah’s thumb wipes them away, clearing your vision and allowing you to see the welcoming smile that has graced Leah’s lips.

“I promise, you make me feel safer than anybody else and I’m going to do my very best for you, because I love you and I want to be happy with and for you.”

Leah nods her head, it’s all she can ask for, that you are happy and healthy and doing well.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, if you're not doing it for yourself then do it for me, show me just how strong and brave you can be, whatever you need, I’m here.”

You nodded your head, letting Leah’s words sink in like a tattoo on your skin.

“I need hugs from you, right now, you need to hug me.”

Leah just chuckles, but she obliges your request, wrapping her arms around you tightly, tight enough for you to know that she’s never letting you go if she can help it.

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

Notes:

This little story has been stuck in my head for almost a year. It’s taken more than one change of direction over the last months until I was happy with where it was going. I hope you'll enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.

And if you want to leave kudos or a comment—no matter if it’s an emoji or several long paragraphs—that would make my whole month.

I also want to say a huge THANK YOU to the wonderful @baronessblixen!

If it hadn’t been for her, and her constant encouragement to continue working on this story and her questions about its progress, I'm sure this story wouldn't be the same. Your input and excitement for this spark of an idea during a Sunday evening chat about something completely unrelated was invaluable. Thank you, my friend!

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | @today-in-fic

Chapter 1: To the Place I Belong

J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. FBI Headquarters – Bullpen Friday, November 27th, 1998, 3:30 pm

“Any plans for the weekend, Scully?” Mulder placed a sunflower seed between his teeth and looked at Scully questioningly. He leaned back in his desk chair, slowly bouncing backward and forward, returning Scully’s questioning glance with an innocent look.

Mulder was completely bored after spending days doing nothing but paperwork and sorting files. He knew Scully was bored too, even though she didn’t mind doing reports half as much as he did.

Scully reached for her coffee cup and sipped the hot liquid, closing her eyes in appreciation. Mulder grinned; he loved watching Scully enjoy her coffee. Mulder could tell she was frustrated by their punishment, which was exactly what was happening. They were being punished. This was also why he had started making an extra effort to get her a cup of coffee just like she wanted every morning and afternoon. She had stoically navigated his frustration with their current situation over the last few months, keeping him in line. And it hadn’t been that long ago that he had had to reassure her that she played a major role in his life. If getting the perfect coffee for her made her happy, he was all for it.

Scully opened her eyes and hummed appreciatively before looking back at him, and he gave her a knowing look. She blushed a bit but didn’t avoid his gaze, her eyes full of warmth. “Did you finish calling the letters ‘H’ and ‘I’ already, or are you planning on spending YOUR weekend catching up?” she quipped and turned back to her keyboard.

“I don’t care about any ‘E’s and ‘I’s. No one is going to follow up on this, anyway. They just want to keep us busy and off any real cases!” he said emphatically, pushing off the floor with his foot and bouncing his chair back and forth again.

“’H’ and ’I’, Mulder. Not ’E’ and ’I’. You did the ’E’s’ last week already. Remember that report I had to rewrite for you because you couldn’t help but add your opinion on why you consider this pointless?” Scully took a new file off of the pile and gave it a cursory glance before sighing.

“Aha! See? You’re just as bored by this as I am, Scully!“

She slowly rotated her shoulder and neck before turning back around to him. “I never said I wasn’t. Of course, this is pointless. None of these people ever so much as stole a chewing gum, much less organized a terrorist attack. But the more we protest, the longer they’re going to keep us assigned to this, and we’ll never get the X-Files back.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Let’s just focus on getting this over with. If we keep our feet still long enough, they might trust us with the X-Files again.” She smiled tightly, and he knew she was trying to sound confident.

He gave her a long look before sighing and turning back to his overflowing pile of folders. “I hope you’re right, and we’re not wasting our time expecting they’ll forget about us.”

He knew Scully was hoping for the same. He despised sitting around, working on senseless tasks, following up on even more useless information when he could be on the road or talking to people who had actually seen something related to the truth.

“Well, at least Kersh didn’t make you recheck your report this time. Maybe he’ll give up sooner than later,” Scully joked, looking away from her monitor for a second.

“Yeah. By the way, thanks for going over it. I doubt I’d have gotten the same reaction to my original draft. You’re a lifesaver!” Mulder gave her a half-smile and pursed his lips.

She returned his smile with one of her own before turning back to her task.

“So, about those weekend plans—” Mulder began, only to be cut off by the ringing of his phone. “Hello?” he said into the receiver, grimacing at Scully when he recognized the voice of Kersh’s assistant. “Yes, we’ll be right there,” he clipped before hanging up and getting up from his chair, grabbing his jacket. “We’re expected in the Deputy Director’s office asap, Agent Scully,” he parroted, not waiting for her before taking off towards the open reception area of Kersh’s office.

He could hear Scully sigh, but she followed him without comment. What now? he wondered. Nothing good ever came out of being called into their boss’s office.

Office of Deputy Director Alvin Kersh

“Have a seat, Agents,” Kersh greeted them without looking up from his note-taking. His tone was as unreadable and impersonal as ever.

Mulder glanced at Scully, but she wordlessly took one of the two seats in front of their boss's desk.

The minutes passed slowly, and Mulder counted the ticking of the analog clock hanging on the wall at the side of the office, which signaled the passing of time. Kersh was making them wait, and Mulder hated every second of it. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if they were keeping him from his work, Kersh looked up and put his pen aside.

“I have a new assignment for you,” he began, giving them both a calculating look. When neither agent reacted, he slid a thick brown folder across the desk towards them. “There have been reports of some nighttime activities down at the Waterfront Resort. I want you to investigate those reports and ensure that nothing illegal is going on there.”

Mulder reached for the file and started to read the top sheet. The more he read, the angrier he got. “Nighttime activities, sir? From what I’m reading here, there have been reports of some kids staying out past their curfew down there. That’s not an actual assignment, a security guard could easily take care of this.” He angrily snapped the file shut and threw it back on the desk.

Kersh’s eyes narrowed, and his tone became even colder if that was possible. “What is an assignment and what isn’t is still something for me to decide, Agent Mulder. Are we clear on that?”

Scully quietly cleared her throat and reached for the folder. “Yes, sir. Agent Mulder and I will take care of this.” She quickly got up from her chair, placing her hand on Mulder’s arm.

Kersh nodded, his eyes still piercing Mulder’s with a cold glare. “Very well, Agent.” He took his pen back in his hand and began writing again, dismissing them wordlessly.

Mulder stood up abruptly, and for a moment he was tempted to have Kersh have it. He was so tired of being roadblocked every step of the way. A gentle squeeze of Scully’s hand on his arm kept him quiet, though, and with a last glance at their boss, he turned around and headed for the door.

FBI Headquarters – Bullpen

Mulder watched as Scully sank into her office chair, her exasperation clear. Another day, another senseless task, he thought.

Mulder frustration was close to exploding. The longer they worked under Kersh, the worse it seemed to get. Scully glanced over at him, and Mulder realized he had been morosely staring at his monitor. He started to bounce his leg, trying to get rid of some of his anger. He’d definitely have to go for a long run tonight, he mused, or his head would explode.

“Mulder, stop fidgeting!” Scully slapped her hand on his bouncing knee, forcing the offending appendage to stop moving.

Mulder sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stay still. “I just hate this, Scully. We’ve been sitting around, doing nothing, for weeks now.” He slowly moved his head from his left shoulder to his right, trying to stretch out the stiff muscles. “And now this! We both know this assignment is just to keep us sidelined. I don’t know how long I can stand waiting around! What are they even planning to do with us at this point?”

Scully nodded, her own frustration evident. “I don’t know, Mulder. I just know fidgeting is not going to change anything. What I do know, however, is that we have to play along for now, or this is going to escalate even higher up, and then we won’t ever get the chance to get the X-Files back.”

Mulder turned to face her directly. “It’s just so frustrating! We should be investigating real cases, not watching some teenagers commit the unspeakable crime of underage drinking.”

Scully gave him a sympathetic look. “I know, Mulder. And I’m just as frustrated as you are. I didn’t choose the FBI to do this kind of grind work either. I want to find the truth just as much as you do.”

Mulder didn’t reply, his eyes firmly fixed on Kersh’s reception area, where the Deputy Director had just appeared and had started laughing with his assistant. Mulder deflated once again, dropped back in his office chair, and gave Scully a pointed look. Kersh had them right where he wanted them.

Scully returned his look grimly before turning back to the folder with their assignment and started rubbing her temples.

He watched her for a few long moments before jumping up and grabbing her arm, pulling her with him. She let him drag her out of her chair, hissing, “Mulder, what are you doing?!” while taking a cursory glance around the large office space. No one was paying them any attention.

Mulder reached for his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging it on. “This assignment is going nowhere. I’m pretty sure no one has even glanced at this file in the last several weeks. Let’s get out of here, Scully.” He grabbed his keys from his desk and slipped them into his pants pockets before putting his arm on her shoulder, squeezing softly.

She gave him a long look before sighing. “Might as well,” she added, grabbing her coat and putting it on.

Mulder placed his hand against her lower back, and together they walked down the hallway towards the elevator.

[seokmthw]

hydrangea | zhang hao

this is part of the zb1 flowers series!

⇢ meaning: hydrangeas represent gratitude for being understood.

⇢ pairing: hao x reader

⇢ warnings: best friends to lovers, slice of life, artist!reader, shy!hao

⇢ synopsis: befriending the shy boy in your art class leads to eventual feelings you know you have to face.

⇢ word count: 3k

⇢ note: aaaaa the first part of the zb1 flower series! writing this came so naturally to me and i think this is something that could be cannon for hao. writing for him makes me giddy sdjfsldjkff enjoy!

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your tongue poked between your teeth in concentration, hand clutching the waxy, green crayon as if you feared someone would come and take it from you. eyes trained on the thick black lines of your coloring page, you neatly filling in the grass you were working on, careful not to drift outside of the lines whatsoever. 

you wanted so desperately for this to be exactly how you imagined, because you planned to give it to someone who you knew didn’t have many friends and you had never seen actually talking, so you wanted to make a good first impression. 

you were just finishing up, nearing the end of the grass, when someone bumped into you and caused the crayon to draw sporadically, leaving a green streak across the rest of the paper. you turned to see the culprit, taking note of your classmates, hanbin and matthew, wrestling around in the chairs next to you.

“hey!” you exclaimed. your voice was tiny, but powerful enough to get their attention,” you ruined my drawing.”

they paused momentarily and hanbin glanced down at your paper, taking note of what had happened to your otherwise flawless coloring job. he had a hopeful look in his eyes as he said, “it’s just a little mistake, y/n. it’s easy to fix!”

“i don't want it to have a mistake. i'm giving it to someone and want it to be perfect,” you pouted, bottom lip beginning to quiver and tears welling up in your eyes the more you looked at the flaw on the page.

“i can help you try and make it better,” matthew offered, reaching one of his little hands forward in an attempt to grab your drawing. you quickly yanked it away, brows furrowed in frustration, and stomped off to another table with your crayons, huffing has you sat down.

what were you going to do now? you felt a tear drip down onto your cheek as you attempted to cover it up the line as much as possible, but you could still see it. after a few more minutes of coloring, you decided it was as good as it was going to get, and set your supplies down and picked the paper back up, examining it and trying your best to make sure not to focus too much on it. 

you looked around the art classroom, eyes settling on the big-eared boy you had set out to give this to from the beginning. you felt a pang of sadness as you noticed him sitting by himself at one of the tables, chin propped on his hand as he dejectedly stared at his own piece of art in front of him. 

you pushed your stool back, marching over to him and plopping down beside him, catching him entirely by surprise. you looked at him, bearing your smile that was mainly gums from lost teeth, happily chirping, “hi!”

he simply just stared at you with a bewildered gaze, which you figured he would do from the beginning, so you decided to just keep talking, sliding your coloring page over to him, “i colored this for you! it has a mistake on it because of stupid hanbin and matthew, but i tried my best to cover it up.”

he shifted his gaze down to the paper, still remaining quiet, eyes trained on all of the coloring you had done in such a short amount of time. his cheeks grew red with embarrassment as he showed you his own coloring page, having done hardly anything to it. you only flashed him a smile, “it looks pretty so far! i hope you show me what it looks like when you finish it.”

he simply nodded, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you began working on your second one for the day. you zoned in, making sure to keep an eye out for your rowdy classmates, and completely putting your crayons down each time they were anywhere near you. 

as the end of the class neared, the boy had finally come to finish his work, tapping you on the shoulder to grab your attention so he could show you the finished product. your eyes lit up excitedly, “it’s so pretty, i love it!”

he appeared to be nervous, swallowing harshly before he finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper, “thank you for being my friend. a lot of people think i’m weird because i’m not as outgoing as they are.”

“well they’re stupid,” you instantly replied, causing a small laugh to erupt from him, “i think you’re really nice, hao.”

“i think you’re really nice too, y/n.”

fast forward a couple of years, and you and your best friend were taking on middle school together. by now, hao had opened up a lot more to you, finally holding pleasant conversations and willingly initiating them with you. the both of you were attached at the hip, and although you had other friends you frequently talked to, you preferred the quiet presence that hao always gave you. 

sure, you were outgoing, and at times you felt like you annoyed him with how much you blabbered on about everything under the sun, but he always listened to you like he was interested in everything you had to say. you appreciated that about him, because a lot of your friends did find you annoying, so you were grateful he didn’t think so.

you were now in seventh grade, both undergoing many changes to your bodies and dealing with academic pressure as your assignments got harder the more time went on. your schedules were almost completely opposite from another, only sharing one class and your lunch period together, so you didn’t get to see each other much during the day. 

you sighed, gathering up your belongings as the bell rang and dismissed you to lunch. you always met up with hao at his locker so the two of you could walk there together, and the moment you rounded the corner, you felt your nostrils flare in anger. hao was pressed against his locker by a couple of boys in your grade, looking terrified as ever, as they spat horrendous things in his face.

“you’re such a freak.”

“your ears remind me of dumbo, big and stupid.”

“i don’t know how y/n is even friends with you.”

you stomped over to them, grabbing the backs of their shirts and yanking them away from hao, who looked visibly relieved that you were there. the two boys yelped in surprise, to which you shoved them toward the middle of the hallway, stepping in front of hao defiantly, “what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“nothing, y/n, we swear!” one of them was quick to exclaim, though it was hard to miss the dopey grin on his face, “we were just messing around.”

“yeah, because ‘messing around’ warrants you to put your hands on someone,” you sarcastically laughed, and by now you had gathered a small crowd, tension hanging thickly in the air. 

the other boy scoffed, “why do you even stick up for this loser, anyway? do you realize how good you’d have it if you just joined the popular crowd?”

you leaned forward and slapped him, a satisfied grin breaking out on your face as you watched the way his head turned with the force of the smack, cheek lighting up in a bright red handprint. a string of oooh's from the people standing around you were able to be heard, along with the sound of a teacher’s voice filling up the air, “what’s going on here?”

despite your attempts to explain what happened, you still managed to land yourself in detention with the two of them for 3 days. hao had profusely apologized, feeling as though it was his fault because he didn’t know how to stand up for himself, but you simply laughed, telling him it was okay.

you would do anything for him.

you sat hunched over the table you were sat at, your pencil digging into the soft paper as you continued shading your current art piece, feeling proud of what had come of it so far. your high school was hosting an art fair in a couple of weeks and you had decided to create multiple pieces before deciding on what one you wanted to have on display. you were almost positive you were going to choose the painting you had finished last week, but you could never fully make a decision until you felt you had enough options.

the art room had been empty for at least an hour now, you teacher having left for a meeting, though she had trusted you enough to take care of the materials and lock up properly once you were finished. you were grateful for the silence, but not so much when hao was greeting you without first making his presence known, “whatcha doing?”

“jesus, hao!” you exclaimed, feeling your muscles tense up at the surprise, a giggle coming from you the moment you realized how silly your reaction seemed.

all the boy could do was chuckle as he slid into the chair next to you, two paper bags in his grasp, one outstretched to you, “sorry for scaring you, i just wanted to bring you lunch.”

“you didn’t have to,” you replied, gracious taking the meal from him, flashing a thankful smile. 

“i know i didn’t have to,you’ve just been working so hard lately and you always take care of me, so i figured it was time to return the favor.”

you couldn’t lie, hearing those words come from him made your tummy twist a little bit. you knew you had developed feelings for him recently - or at least, you think they were recent - and him making such kind gestures toward you always made it difficult to suppress them. you were thankful he couldn’t see the blush dusting your cheeks as you turned away from him, rummaging through your bag as you stated, “that reminds me, i have something for you.”

you pulled a small canvas out of your backpack, handing it over to him with a grin, “i painted you a little something that was inspired by your most recent recital.”

hao accepted it, gaze falling to further examine what you had made. it was a detailed, almost perfect painting resembling something all too familiar to him, which was a silhouette of him playing his violin, face lit up by the lights of the stage and eyes closed as he lost himself to the music he created. his jaw hung open, eyes wide as he looked back up at you, “this is incredible.”

“you think so?” you mused, now taking a bite of the apple that was included with your lunch.

“of course i do, this is probably one of my favorites you’ve done so far,” he honestly answered, “you should submit this into the art fair.”

“i’ll think about it,” you sheepishly responded, unable to ignore the way his ears had gone red.

you could only hope it was because of you.

you knew moving in with hao during your time in college was going to be horrendous for the crush you had on him, but you still agreed to it anyway, because who were you to say no to him? besides, how bad could it actually be?

terrible, actually.

he let you set up a makeshift art studio in the living room next to one of your huge bay windows in order to keep your inspiration flowing as you progressed in your classes, and didn’t mind if you dedicated most of your afternoons to working on your things. he even bought some from you - though you had argued with him about just letting them have whatever he wanted for free - and hung it up around various parts of your apartment and his bedroom. 

he was always your biggest supporter, encouraging you to keep chasing your dream of making it a full time career despite everyone around you telling you that you would never make it. he even modeled for you when you needed it, staying in the same pose for hours at a time until you were fully satisfied with what you had created. 

which is what led you to where you were now, sat on your stool at your easel, back beginning to ache from sitting there for so long, and the sun filtering through the window and keeping you warm as you painted. it was an early saturday morning, and the piece you were working on was giving more of a headache than you expected, but you knew it was because you would be using it to confess your feelings to hao. 

there was a huge chance things would go horribly wrong, that the years you had spent growing up with him would be ruined, but you didn’t care. you needed him to know just what kind of feelings you held for him. 

as if on cue, hao shuffled into the living room, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes, hair sitting in messy tufts on the top of his head. you swore you could feel your heart sink in your chest the moment you laid eyes on him, your mouth suddenly going dry and hands developing a slight tremor. you didn’t know why you felt so nervous, you weren’t as comfortable with anyone else in the world like you were with hao. 

“morning,” he mumbled, beginning to brew himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen just off of the living room, “you’re up early,” he added.

“yeah, i couldn’t sleep. this piece has been driving me bonkers,” you admitted, and it wasn’t necessarily a lie, he just didn’t know the true reason why. 

you turned back to the canvas, dipping your brush gently into the paint. a comfortable silence fell between the two of you, as it so often did in your time of being friends, and you almost didn’t hear as hao came up behind you, a second cup of coffee in hand for you, a tired smile displayed on his lips, “figured you could use some caffeine.” 

and there it was - the calming, caring nature that surrounded him and that you had grown so fondly of since knowing him. you thanked him quietly, taking the mug from his grip and setting it on the table next to your easel, gaze falling down to your paint palette in order to avoid his burning stare. he scanned the painting, remaining silent for a moment longer before he questioned, “what’s this one supposed to symbolize?”

“this one is actually for you, it’s meant to show how thankful i am to you for always being so understanding of my incessant need to always be working on something,” you could feel your face begin to grow warm the moment he began looking at you instead of the painting. 

his expression was almost unreadable, which was odd for the dynamic the two of you shared. he smiled at you, a soft, closed-lip one, the glimmering in his eyes hard to miss as he reciprocated, “you have no idea how lucky i am to have you in my life. you’ve helped me grow into myself, so if anyone should be grateful for the mutual understanding, it should be me.”

“hao-”

“i need to tell you something, y/n,” he interrupted you, “because it’s been eating me alive from the very moment you gave me that coloring page in elementary school.”

“i hope it’s not something i’ve done, because i can fix whatever it is,” you automatically responded, grabbing your bottom lip between your teeth, anxiety at his words getting the best of you. 

he set his coffee cup down next to yours, a shaky sigh pushing out of his lungs, and he straightened up once more, one of his hands coming up to card through your hair and brush it out of your face, coming down to rest easily on your cheek. the way he looked at you is something you’ve never seen, and you worried he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear, but it was the complete opposite, “i love you. and not just in a friend way, as something more. i think i’m in love with you, y/n.”

you could feel your head begin to spin, so many thoughts crashing into you at once, and you couldn’t help but let out a noise and bury your face into his stomach, tears beginning to soak through the fabric of his t-shirt. you felt him tense up before he eventually rested his hand on the back of your head, holding you as close to him as he could despite you still sitting on your chair.

“i didn’t mean to make you cry, if this makes you uncomfortable we can just forget i ever said anything,” he murmured, but you were quick to shake your head, a sniffle being the only sound that he could hear from you. 

finally, you pulled away, wiping beneath your eyes frantically, “i promise these are good tears,” you motioned to the painting, laughing lightly, “i was actually trying to tell you the same thing with this, but i don’t think i did that great of a job,” you looked at him, unable to prevent the beaming grin from spreading, “i love you too, hao.”

you rose to your feet, allowing the boy to engulf you in a hug, his scent filling your nostrils and arms feeling like what you imagined home would. sure, you’d hugged him before, but it never felt like this. you exhaled softly, letting him rest his chin on top of your head, a loving silence filling the air.

as long as you had each other, you knew there would always be someone in the world who knew how you felt.

[42wv]

Blaidd Cosplay project I worked on during May 2022

Elden Ring was the hype, I wanted to be a good turtle. I originally wanted to get this cosplay ready by Otakuthon 2022, but I never did finish it. I do want to finish this cosplay one day!

Now let ramble about my progress on it! :readmore:

When it comes to video game cosplay, I take the easier route and rip models from the game, then modify them for cosplay. I 3D modelled a few Kamen Rider suits before and all that was a pain in general. For my sanity's sake, I plan to model as little as possible for future cosplays.

Lucky, the in-game model was well made, so I didn't have to make a lot of modifications. I had to separate some pieces, subdivide and give it some volume.

The head was given a lot of holes, so it would be lighter to wear. I had to separate the teeth and the gums because I will paint them individually.

I let my 3D printer work. Meanwhile....

Eyeballs! Molded with moldable plastic pellets. The iris part of the eye hollows inwards for a bit of that 3D look. The whole thing then got covered in 2-part epoxy to fill the cavity and make the eye shiny.

There's usually a few steps involved when it comes to painting. That is priming and then taking your time to paint something with the medium of your choice. Well, I skipped all that and decided to draw on the eye with sharpie and markers. Results were... satisfactory enough.

Time to work on the gummy teethies! I've been saving up for years on an airbrush set and I got really excited to try them for the first time.

FDM 3D prints don't come out perfect usually, so I brushed some XTC-3D (fancier 2-part epoxy) on them, and let it cure first.

With a bit of filler primer and airbrushing magic...

Teeth! Dentists in the Lands Between will make a KILLING if they ever move there.

Pretty happy with the process! I didn't bother to shade the gums because we won't see a lot of that anyway.

Did I ever tell you sewing is my least favorite part of cosplay? My specialty is more on props and armor. This image should've been flipped upside-down!

I tried to sew gloves using a free-to-use pattern I found on the internet (forgot where I got them). First one was too tight, second on was better, but still feel weird to wear. I will get these right one day!!

I bought some FUR! I shopped for a WHOLE hour at the fabric store for the right faux fur, and none of them felt like a match to Blaidd's fur. His fur was darker (than the fur in the picture, left side), with a hint of blue.

I tried to dye the fur a little bit to darken it, but not too much because I didn't want the white part of the fur to turn too dark. I used a dye for synthetic fibers. Right side of the image the the fur after soaking in hot dye solution for a few minutes (still wet)

Results? I there was only a subtle difference between then non-dyed and dyed furs! I either didn't let it bathe in the solution long enough, or I did not put enough dye in the solution.

ANYWAY I decided to just used the furs as is and airbrush the details at the end.

Now for the cloak? I was planning on tying some crochet threads together, then separate the ends with a fur brush, resulting in some fluffy ends the add on to the cape.

However, after re-examining Blaidd's cloak, I'm considering on scrapping this process because I feel like there's better materials to give out the look I want.

After assembling the mouth parts/eyes/nose, adding the lips with black moldable plastic and adding the hinge (to make the mouth movable), it's off to furring the head!

With the help of masking tape and sharpie, I went to pattern the fur. I then cut the appropriate shapes to sew.

I knew I had to cut the fabrics a bit bigger to make things fit and all, so I did that. My mistake? I realized after finishing the snout part, that I've cut the shapes TOO BIG! It did not fit the print!

So that's another thing I have to redo. Sewing is my passion (sarcasm).

This concludes part 1 of my Blaidd cosplay journal. Will there be a part 2? I don't know. It started snowing a few days ago and Winter is generally not a good time for cosplay-making. I'll have to see about this when Spring/Summer comes!

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Monster Au except Yuu is a researcher who came from a modern fantasy world where monsters aren’t an uncommon thing to see(they know their strengths and weaknesses, or at least something similar) and if it’s child!Yuu then they are just a researcher’s kid who wants to be like their parents(may or may not have a plushie of their favorite creature)

This is an interesting twist to the idea of Yuu actually being aware of monsters and magic before arriving in Twisted Wonderland! I can imagine that Yuu would absolutely go full-researcher mode and just start spazzing at the realization that they can actually talk to these humanized versions of the monsters in their big field guide book the size of a cinder block! X’D

Researcher!Yuu: “Oh…my…goodness!!!”

Monster!Jack: “Huh…?"

Researcher!Yuu: “You’re such a perfect specimen!” *-starts tugging and pulling on Jack’s ears, tail, and examining his teeth-* “Sharp, angular ears. Teeth and gums are well-maintained. Ah!! Such a beautiful shade of blue tinted mist! And it’s cool to the touch…fascinating! I’ve never seen an arctic version of the Fu Dog species!”

Monster!Jack: “Wah sha-?!” *-can’t talk with Yuu’s hands on his saber canines-*

Monster!Epel: “Um…what are you doing?”

Researcher!Yuu: *-stares at Epel-* “...o…oh…my…GOSH!!!! Are you a hybrid between two different monster species?!”

Monster!Epel: “Ack! Y-Yes??”

Chimera!Grim: “...uh…you okay there?”

Researcher!Yuu: *-Yuu.exe has stopped working. Please restart.-*

…pfft…yeeeeah, Yuu might be a little much for these guys at first until they realize they have to dial things back a little. Luckily, the students and staff are spared the intrusive and curious questions once the research institutions come into play. (Researcher!Yuu: “I have found my people.”)

On the bright side, both groups can have a blast comparing notes and sharing data, so it’s a mutually beneficial exchange! Yuu might also eagerly tell their new friends all about the different stories from their explorations in the field (and of course, the injuries they experienced when they got spotted by aggressive/defensive monsters)!

How this Yuu managed to stay alive as long as they had is a mystery.

If it were mini!Yuu (in this case I can see them being between 3-7 years old), I’d imagine everyone would be endeared to the child’s curious questions and stories about their parent’s/guardian’s field of study. The monster boy who closely resembles the species of the plushie the little one carries around would be a mix of “Awww, that’s so adorable~!” and “Ha! The child likes me better than you~!” (Imagine Yuu getting flooded with so many new toys based on the other monster boys just to gain their favor X’D)

This whole AU would be a very interesting kettle of fish, especially if their friends had to constantly drag/yoink them out of danger whenever they go into researcher mode. Like when the phantom in the mines appeared during the prologue and when Yuu witnessed their first overblot X’D

[atinylittlepain]

2024 Jan 14th

THE ARCHIVE

Captain's Log is a weekly dispatch from yours truly. New issues will be up every Sunday, with a smattering of whatever has been marinating for me that week. Book recommendations, grief thoughts, music, art, wranglings with writing. We'll see! But my guarantee to you is one new issue, every Sunday babyyyyyy

{ If you enjoy Captain's log, consider sharing it, leaving a comment, or a little tip. }

In this issue:

meditations on writer's block

The Lost Month of the Lost Months

Two (2) book reviews

One (1) soup recipe

I hate writing! (I love writing)

Some of you have heard this story already, and for that I apologize. For the rest, I entered college four years ago with the full intention of being a creative writing major. I was going to write the Next Great American Anything. And then I took the first two courses of the major, an intro to literary theory and an intro to poetry class, and by the time I was done with those two classes, I no longer wanted to be a creative writing major. Blunt force scalpel, prying apart the jaws of words and work until all we were left with was loose teeth and gummy mush. 

And because I was eighteen, and very angry all the time I did the very angry all the time thing of turning up my nose and stomping in another direction. I didn’t write, not counting APA-style papers, for three years. 

To cut this story short, a constellation of events were strung together in the last year to make it very necessary, very crucial, for me to write again. So I did, and I wrote a lot, and most of it was bad, and some of it was good. It wasn’t difficult to keep writing. I would finish with one idea and leap over into a new one with little effort. I would start things with little worry for whether I would finish them, because I always did. Now, as we inch further into the new year, this is no longer the case.

Writer’s block always seemed like such a bourgeois phenomenon to me, someone who mostly sees writing as manual labor, as muscle and will. I didn’t get blocked because writing wasn't an optional thing, until I did get blocked, and writing has since become a despondent wife lingering in my doorway, bemoaning my neglect. 

And believe me, I have fought against this new development tooth and nail. Renouncing fic because I thought it was getting in the way of other writing, picking fic back up because at the very least, I could write it, if nothing else, then renouncing fic all over again. Threatening another three year writing death, then limping to my friends with my tail between my legs asking them if they really (really?) thought I was good enough to keep going. And throughout all this fighting, all this squirming and prickling, very little writing got done. 

When you read articles asking writers what they think about the dreaded block (as I did with all the rigor of a hypochondriac consulting WebMD) they tend to scoff, turn up their perfect writer’s hands and flick the thought away. And for the longest time I thought this was only a sort of peacocking, a tough guy, too cool for school flippancy because they’re so great, so brilliant that they never even consider that they could be blocked. But I recently read another article (yes, it has gotten that bad) and I realized that it wasn’t that these writers don’t believe in the block, just that they call it by other names. Time to rest, time to read, time when the idea is there and gumming up into something more real, more realized in the mind. In this way, writing becomes a kind of muscular expanding, and subsequent contracting. I’m not blocked. I’m just contracting, curling up close and tight around a couple ideas that could be next.

I’m reminded of this past July when I was working on my first novel. A good day was five thousand words, and a minimally decent day was a cool thirty-five hundred. These days, if I can sit down and get a good five hundred, it’s the greatest mercy. And I do realize, for the record, the irony of this, writing about how I’m not writing. Humor me.

Currently, there are three ideas for three different novels I’m letting work between my teeth. When I got home after traveling for New Years, sodden and weak and wan, I lurched forward into one of these ideas with a zeal that tore the whole thing to pulpy shreds, a new wound to nurse. So now, mostly I’m reading, and doing some of this writing that isn’t really writing (don’t tell anyone). And finally, I’m not fighting it, as much. The time to expand will come, eventually. For now, everything else is a gift. 

Reading Dispatches

I read two books this week. One I liked, and one I didn’t.

Really, truly, I wanted to like Bad Fruit by Ella King. A few friends recommended it to me, and it’s certainly got that trendy femme-tesque aesthetic going on. Promising at first - a crazy mother and her mandatory rituals, familial trauma being passed down through visions, spoiled juice, a fuckass father in a recliner, and an older man with the disposition of a golden retriever - but the writing fell flat. Outside of the main character, an eighteen-year-old who acts as her volatile mother’s pet doll, all the other players felt half-drawn and underbaked, much like the plot. Sadly, I would not recommend this one.

I always get existentially bummed when I finish a disappointing book, but My Husband by Maud Ventura was a zippy little upswing, exactly what I needed. Think Stepford Wives meets The Golden Notebook - a stark and unblinking examination of the ends one woman takes to maintain her marriage. It contradicts itself at times, as it perfectly should, and demands a careful reading to pick through all of the woven neuroses of the main character, who is only named in the epilogue. And the epilogue is a perfect turn of the blade. A good one, a short one, and I can see myself revisiting it to pick up things that I missed on the first read. 

The Lost Month of the Lost Months

We’re in the bottleneck of it now. That disorienting time where you can still smack the taste of Christmas in the back of your mouth, but we’re already halfway through (!!!!) with January. The snow is gray and crusted over, if there even was any this year, and the airports have emptied out, family back wherever they come from. January, my friends, is the Lost Month of the Lost Months. We have reached critical mass for Lost Months, which is both bad news that we are in the thickest, soupiest muck of it, and good news that there is an end, just maybe not in sight, yet. 

I have no advice, no sage words to make this suckfest better. This is simply a public service announcement from me to you that I’m in the suckfest with you, and I’d bet money that all the rest of us are too. A reminder for who needs it, these are the Lost Months! If you make it to February, you’ve done great! Promise! Nothing else matters. There is no failing in the Lost Months, just doing the best we can. 

The only good thing about January, of course, is that it’s national soup month. In my clinical opinion, soup does help during the Lost Months. Here is a recipe that I make frequently during this time of year and have perfected over many years of getting perpetually sick with something snotty and achy and undefined from November through February.

CHICKEN SOUP THAT PROMISES NO MIRACLES BUT TASTES PRETTY GOOD

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil

½ of an onion (you can do the whole thing, but I don't like onion very much)

5-6 carrots cut into thick coins

3-4 celery stalks diced

8-10 cloves of garlic minced or chopped (up to you)

1 tsp of salt 

A two-inch knob of ginger finely diced (optional, but i like it)

About a ½ teaspoon of red pepper flakes (more or less, however spicy you like it)

1.5-2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts of thighs or a mix

6-8 cups of low sodium chicken broth (6 = more stew-ish; 8 = more broth)

1 parmesan rind ( if you don’t have this, you could also put in a big spoonful of miso paste and dissolve that in the broth, also this is optional but is a nice little touch)

3 fistfuls of spinach roughly chopped (optional for health)

1 bunch of parsley, just the tops of it, chopped (also optional)

1 Half to a whole lemon

Instructions

Get a big pot, heat the olive oil in the pot over medium-high heat

Add in your onion, carrots, celery, and salt and cook for 5-7 minutes until everything is looking a little softer, stir occasionally

Add in your garlic, ginger, and red pepper flakes and cook for another 1-2 minutes, stir frequently

Add in your broth, chicken, parm rind (or miso) and bring to a boil - then cover and let simmer for thirty minutes

At thirty minutes, pluck out the chicken and shred it with two forks or, like however you want to handle that - take out the parm rind (if using) and add the chicken back in

Add in your spinach, parsley, and lemon juice - taste and season as needed

TO SERVE: I like to do mine over a little rice with some parm on top - or, can’t go wrong with a grilled cheese (with pickles, love you, try it) on the side

Enjoy your soup and take heart that you have lunch or dinner for the next few days made

[klasdfghjk]

What did you think when you left me this way

by Lingering_Bastard

Chapter 3: We Live On

Ok, getting broken up with? Sucks.

In between the sobbing, every inhale bringing in an icy sharp breath that burns my throat, and tears streaming down my face onto Kev’s jacket sleeves, staining them black with mascara as I painfully swipe at my eyes; I suddenly realize a strong contender to the “this sucks” hierarchy. I mean, as stupid as it sounds, that in this very moment I can be thinking of anything other than walking out of that party a single woman.

These shoes might have been perfect to wear all night for an indoor party, but now with the reckless idea of walking home executed, blisters have begun to form at the back of my heels, and they hurt like a bitch.

So, getting your heart broken sucks, but wearing the wrong shoes to the break up is just slightly more criminal.

“You’ve got to be kidding, oh fuck.” I swear out loud, noticing the burning of skin is actually becoming unbearable, and pause my walk. Through bleary eyes I look around the empty street, noticing how much I’ve managed to walk, fiercely trapped in miserable sentiments. My breath comes out in puffs of white, a dying street lamp pitying me.

‘Well screw you, your only job is to light up and you can’t even do that right’

It’s colder out in the open, though with a warmed-up body all it does is numb my face. I’m just a few blocks from my house, that distance is mocking me more than my smeared makeup. With that thought, I wipe with dirty sleaves again. Geez, these tears are unrelenting.

“God I’m an embarrassment.” I mumble, kicking at the lamppost helplessly. It only flickers meekly in response.

I’m almost content to keep standing here, no movement to ignite the pain of the blisters, no huffing in chilly air rushing to get home. My mind starts drifting to my now seemly comfortable bed, still messy with clothes I was debating on wearing this night. Wrapped dinner in the fridge I could heat up, my appetite randomly coming back to life. And I did promise myself a hot chocolate. Ugh, and I have to wash my face before sleep even if I really don’t want to… I wonder if Kevin is still at the party. It's late, maybe he got sick of it and went home? Or maybe he went back inside, with his newfound single life, and instantly start flirting with someone once I left? There were so many hot people to pick from. I can visualize it now, him smashing down a few drinks, charming his way into a group of strangers. Oh shit, there was that one girl who had the hots for him, Leo? Yeah, she looked properly high and dressed to impress. He could be balls deep in her right now, I saw the top bedroom was empty, is he even the type to fuck after a breakup heck WE didn’t even go further than over the clothes stuff-

And I'm overthinking again.

As if the universe was sick of my pathetic head ramblings, a car passes through the street ahead of me, reminding me I am still crying in the middle of a random sidewalk at midnight and not at home, a better place to spiral into insecurity. Also, that car was a little off the middle lane, sir you are lucky I’m not a cop because that’s some drunk driving. I grit my teeth, pain be damned, do a once over around me finding I’m still pleasantly alone on this walk, and take off one reluctant step at a time towards my house.

Against better judgment, and still angry at the thought that my Ex is now ~thoroughly~ enjoying the party that is surely still raging on, I decide on a shortcut through the park. It’s not much of a park as it is a few bushes and a playground, used mainly by smoking school kids ditching class.

Thank a clear sky and a bright moon, I don’t see anyone waiting to stab me in the night for, what, a piece of gum in my front pocket and a beat-up phone? What a score. I still walk as briskly as possible.

Unfortunately, my worst enemy doesn’t come in the form of a stranger in the bushes, my wild imagination conjuring up images of horned demons coming for my skin rather than a bored serial killer.

No, my enemy stays at it as always been, mother nature herself.

It’s a gravel path, how hard can it be to walk a gravel path? I’ve passed the slides and swing set and am well on my way to the freedom of the next street when I stop paying attention to the ground, looking around the familiar houses, ready for the home stretch. Too focused on the routine picket fences rotting away in this forgotten suburbia: I trip over a goddamn stick.

My feet are already clumsy from the burning pain of blisters and strained from the walk, they don’t even try to catch my balance as I lurch forward, vision going black for a moment as my forehead hits those stupid posts they put in front of parks to stop cars swerving in and such. Well, stupid cars didn’t hit them, I did. And the forehead collision is followed up with my knees smacking into the concrete sidewalk hard.

I gasp, breathless and dizzy, falling to my shoulder, then rolling onto my back with the final momentum from my trip.

I don’t immediately acknowledge the pain, the hot blood now trickling down my forehead, or look down to my scraped knees. A night in which too much has happened in such a short amount of time, my attention drifts towards the stars. The stars that have seen this whole night: A whole meltdown and a half lasting from my bedroom, through a car trip, on a balcony next to a pool. All the events that led up to this entire predicament. A night that in storybooks would have been a heart-to-heart conversation of apologies and teary-eyed kisses and “I’ll never hurt you again” promises.

Not whatever this is.

Slowly, as if figuring out the right key to play, my brain halts all function. All thoughts buzz out and narrow into one solid, sorrowful feeling. A hurt that seemed so old, too out of place for my own head, passed on from a harrowed soul and thrust into me just so I could feel it too. Now, bubbling up from deep in my chest, I burst. Still, on the cold ground, the fiery hurt spreads through my body. A trembling mess, teeth biting into my covered arms trying to muffle sounds as excruciating wails and screams leave me without permission. My legs flail and kick, the air, the ground, the fucking feeling that was so unexplainable and agonizing.

This is what he did to me.

--

The short tantrum overstays its welcome, but I have the sense to know I’m a couple of blocks from my house from where I’m bleeding on this park pavement. As soon as I get up and dust whatever I can off, I almost run home. The pain of moving my sore limbs and bleeding soles is better than crying the night out at the park entrance, alerting concerned neighbors, and maybe earning a call to my parents.

I’m limping down my driveway, rather pissed at the automatic light sensor ratting me out. I pause for a beat, looking for movement in the windows. A sigh of relief escapes me, seems the surprise spotlight didn’t get me caught. Not that I’m sneaking back in, of course, I just look like a banshee leaving a funeral.

Rounding the house into the backyard, I sit on the decking and practically rip off the offending shoes, crying in relief as I free my feet. They aren’t bad shoes, they really aren’t. I’ll just have to tape up my heels next time. Sure. I still throw them onto the shoe pile the door without a care.

One hand dabs the blood on my forehead with the now ruined sleeves of this jacket, another quietly slides open the back door. Thank fuck mum left it open for me. I patter across the house, making it successfully to my bedroom without waking anyone. I really can’t deal with a talk right now; I wouldn’t know what to tell them. I’d probably just start crying again until someone drove up to Eva’s house and dragged her son across the front lawn. I almost smile at the thought of it. It’s just a bit too soon.

But it’s not too soon to change out of my party clothes into a comfortable hoodie to drown in. I patch up my knees before I tug on some sweatpants. Then in the bathroom, I wash off the makeup and patch up the rest. It’s gonna be bad, bruised. A lot of fun explaining to do but at least saying I was clumsy isn’t far from the truth.

Then, no doubt between despair and also anger, I grab Kev’s discarded, make-up-stained, and blood-soaked jacket. I really don’t want to wake anyone up, but this has to be done, it’s all my brain can think about. Over months of self-doubt and heartache over a stupid boy, I at least deserve to give myself the closure he didn’t give me. I creep outside again. Extremely carefully. Like- giving a cat burglar a run for their money, carefully. Stepping over the creaks and placing my feet down extra lightly. I can now enjoy the crisp night air, all snuggled up. A hoodie that smells like me, one that Kev had never even seen.

Without hesitation, I throw this stupid relic, the last remnants of our bond, into the fit pit. I don’t look away even when the smoke makes my eyes water.

I keep the fire burning until dawn, sneaking in once to grab my dinner. There is an unexplainable peace I felt at devouring the heated up leftovers, and of course, a nice big cup of hot chocolate to remedy my scrapes and bruises.

Mum finds me in the dewy morning, shivering and dull-eyed, still tending to the ashes of the flames I lit. Not a scrap of Kevin remained.

- Two Months Later-

A full house, a busy basement. A room full of smoke and sin, now a rather normal setting for me.

My eyes are dry and glassy, I giggle at the feeling as I place the bong back on the painted coffee table. I’d already spent way too long staring at the detailed cartoonish characters but whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I’d find myself drifting back to it, even when there was plenty of eye candy around the room to check out.

“Nina, thank you for being a clingy bitch.” I sigh as I sink into the plush if not kind of gross couch, smiling down at her grinning reaction.

“Nooo, thank you for being my social anxiety rock.” Nina nuzzles against my legs from her place cross-legged on the floor. She’s almost too cute in this setting, the blond curls tied up in a bun slowly falling apart, and a loud tie die tee that only she could pull off, I’m almost tempted to tell her she looked more at home here than half the people in this basement.

“I’d say get a room.” The familiar stranger next to me, a girl I think from the year above me, jokes, “But what’s a good friendship without an abundance of homoerotic subtext?”

“Mm, true. I’ll keep my intentions questionable Laura.” Nina winks, and reaches for a lighter.

Sure, I said this time I’d be sober, but that basically went straight-out the window the moment I entered Eddie’s overly familiar basement. Well, Eddie's now out of school so I suppose I’d have the right to call it his sister’s hang out now?

They both have the luxury of frequently absent parents and use that freedom, or rather misuse, for it to basically be an open house for all their friends’ mischievous endeavours. Drugs and parties mainly. It’s not always this full on, all the times I have been over it’s actually been pretty quiet. Casual movie nights eating edibles or being introduced to DnD. Any grander party was spread out to more outgoing groups.

So, it was defiantly strange to see the whole house this full.

Some of Eddie’s older friends offered as soon as I arrived, but band-tee and ripped jean wearing Laura swooped in like a mother hen and didn’t let us touch anything else but her own personal stash.

“Trust most of these sloths haven’t washed their gear since they bought it, don’t want mold in your lungs do ya?” She lectured, “And the blunts might be laced, they are collage sleezebags babe. Wouldn’t put it past them.” It felt nice to be looked after.

She said she swore she knew me from a previous night out but I swore I didn’t remember her. We’ve concluded I was just a bit to blacked on Xan’s and tequila, which seems fair. I’ve sort of been putting anything offered into my body for the past two months. It’s even felt pretty good, I can’t lie. And no one has even pretended to be worried. Any and all breakup sadness is pretty much erased in drugs, which I know know know is stupid and I have to stop before it’s, like, stealing from mum’s wallet bad. But just for today, tonight, I let myself relax against that worrisome tide of thoughts and smoke.

The next hit Nina takes is way too strong and she ends up blank faced and staring at the canopy covered ceiling, I let her head rest between my knees and lightly play with her escaping hair. Laura gets knocked closer to me and another guest squeezes themselves onto the couch.

“We are at capacity dude!” She groans over her shoulder, then smiles back to me. “This scene is fun and all but by god do I miss like, bike rides am I right?”

“I don’t even remember the last time I rode a bike.” That’s a lie, I do. It involved a certain dark-haired archer and a craving for strawberry milk. I still pass that convenience store every other day.

“I know right?” Laura gawks, eyes rolling playfully, “Free entertainment we never use. Oh, you owe me for the weed by the way.”

“Figures, I’ll pay for Nina too.” I pull out the bills I prepared beforehand from my pocket. Of course, I knew this was going to happen. Nina always ends up owing someone money. And last time she snorted coke that wasn’t hers was the last time I’d arrived at a party without what I dub ‘bail money’. “She’s broke as ever. I think her last dollar went to a parking ticket.”

“Fuck those, government cash grabs.” She accepts my cash, pulling out a twenty from the stack and handing it back without a single word. Huh, how generous.

“So,” She leans in mischievously, “Guys or girls?” Yeah, no playing around with this one, Laura has turned out to be overly comfortable with strangers.

“Uh-” I’m taken aback by her abrupt quizzing. This usually wouldn’t be the type of question to stir me at parties, but for the longest time I’d become accustomed by answering ‘taken’. The fact that I now can't use it as an option hit me, and I'm left speechless for a second..

“Shhe-” Slurred Nina, suddenly stirring to life after talk of money had passed over, “Is attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses only.”

“Doesn’t that sum it up.” I snort, thankful for the intrusion.

“Oh, stupid crush or bad break up? No don’t even answer, it’s a terrible topic to talk about when high.” Laura shakes her head, “Once on LSD I spent like an hour crying over my Ex to this random at a club. She broke up with me for, wait for it, my cousin.”

“Cunt!” I gape in playful offense, hand to my sternum as Nina and me give our “awws” in sympathy.

“I know right?” She rolls her eyes, absentmindedly rubbing her neck, “Doesn’t matter, they moved away now. Separately I might add. So, I just…don’t even have to see them anymore.”

“Did you get over it?” Nina asks without even thinking about how rude it might sound, but Laura just laughs and moves to stand up.

“Yeah actually. It’s whatever now but shit, could’ve saved me the months of dating.” Ah, she gets it. “I’m gonna pee, please save my spot?”

“Will do.” Nina agrees. They switch places in different tones, Laura having practiced balance and grace, while my stoned friend lazily crawls up to park her butt on the now vacant space on the couch, “Safe~ In exchange, please get me snacks from the kitchen, I am hungry!”

“One order of munchies on the way babe.” Our senior stalks off with a wink and a wave, then disappears up the stairs.

As she does, a familiar set of legs descend and I choke.

Fuck, now how could I forget, this isn’t just some random party. In-between the unplanned smoking and getting my heart fluttering around Laura, it slipped my mind that I was never going to come here. Not when I heard he was invited.

I’d been avoiding him at every single opportunity I could. I think he was too. Wait, no, there isn’t a “think” in that, everything Kevin does is intentional.

That’s why I’m pleased as fuck when I see the brief surprise in his eyes as he descends into the suffocating tendrils of smoke.

- Kevin –

She didn’t come to school for a week.

I was way past the phase of “beginning to worry”, because the truth was my anxiety begun the same night we parted. She should have gotten home fine in theory. Observant, strong, and a good runner, especially in a bind. No doubt she didn’t need a chaperone for the walk, yet it didn’t put my mind at ease. I wouldn’t be able to text and check if she got home safe. I wouldn’t know anything until I saw her at school again.

Every step back to my house that night was a battle, as thoughts of her ending up dead on the news, though as impossible as the odds were, invaded my rational thought. That was in between the foreign feeling of tears streaming down my face. I hoped like a computer virus this unpacking of emotions would be wiped clean after sobbing until I was an unsightly mess in the driveway, but any numbness I felt afterward was temporary.

My room felt a little emptier than before, I’d spent the weeks leading up to the break up slowly getting rid of her belongings. Little things at first, forgotten hair ties and stationery. Then books she’d gifted with the mischievous smile of harboring an inside joke, one I’d figure out if I read the damn thing. Of course I did, I read all of them. Then, with the weight of losing all those annotated pages with her scribblings, doodles, and cute messages, I promptly burned all of them.

It would have been difficult to lose her all at once, though not to delude myself, losing her at all is still painful. But now, my room barren of her traces, it weighed on me that I finally accomplished it. Cut off the last loose ends. Connection to humanity, or, something. Whatever you would call it. I wonder would I even be willing to shoot her, if I went through with it. Would she guess it, see it coming? Or is there still enough blind faith to interrupt her better judgment as I lead the sheep to their slaughter.

Oh, that’s, no, the fuck? What the fuck am I even thinking, after that messy night it’s just time to sleep and forget about the evening.

I didn’t go to sleep instantly, making a point to take a shower as if I could wash off this whole situation- I mean at least I could wash off the beer, sweat and tears. Then crawling naked under the sheets, tossing and turning under the suddenly uncomfortable sheets, failing at quelling the thoughts of her not making it home safe, a guilty portion of my brain remembers one item of hers I didn’t get rid of. One I tell myself I’m too tired to throw out, I’ll do tomorrow, I defiantly won’t forget. A stupid T-shirt tucked right in the back of my purposefully unfilled wardrobe.

I defiantly don’t fall asleep to escape that thought.

When she didn’t show up on Monday, the war of conflicting emotions begun their battle. Of course, there was immense relief from not having to face her. Who would want to see their ex so quickly after a breakup? The best medicine is forgetting, avoiding. She was probably feeling the same, maybe even sick from the cold walk home. Maybe she was avoiding the History pop quiz. Normal reasons.

But then the other side of my mind begged to differ. The panic of not being able to text and ask if she became a dead body on the weekend. If she was having a depressive spiral. Would it be good or bad if she wanted to transfer schools?

At least Tuesday brought the answer that she was sick, as I’d overheard her friends talking. But that didn’t tell me how sick. When she was coming back or…. if she was coming back.

Damn, I hated not knowing things. It certainly was a new feeling; one I really could’ve gone without.

The entire week was dragging on as she didn’t appear, day after day. Uneventful class after boring lunchtime periods. I really should have been reveling in this freedom. Time to work on the plan, time in my own head with my own thoughts. It had to be just the shock of pace changing. I could not stay like this forever.

Wait stay like what, again? Heartbroken- wait no. That’s not fucking it. I did my time, I cried, I got over it.

What’s the problem of moving on? Sure, it was a feeling I’d never experienced before. But once the initial shock and fear of all those new sensations wore out, my so-called love for her just melts into a period where I was doing unnecessary and distractive activities. I just wanted to see what the fuss was about, yeah.

Why is it so impossible to convince myself this time around? Years of confidence, following the role of a narcissistic psychopath. I’d never stumbled, not like this.

Next Monday, with immense relief of a tidal wave, she entered the classroom. Instantly shattered by noticing her physical state.

Sure, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when she, completely ignoring me, waltzed over to her friends, reuniting with hugs and smiles. She quickly explained away the old bruising, week-old bruising I noted, on her face. A scabbing gash on her forehead that I bet could have concussed her, hidden under some sneaky hair placement and light makeup. Though that made my heart sink, I wondered, have they noticed her paling skin and darkened eye bags? Do they see how disconnected from the world her mind seemed? Because they better. I wasn’t here for her anymore, and pushed down the guilt her state caused me.

How did she get the injuries? I wanted to know what she was doing all week. It was really chewing at me. And that was unproductive. As she took her seat, I bit my tongue and forced my head down. If I was going to get better from whatever my brain wasn’t letting go of, I’d have to do what I did best. Overwork and disconnect from reality. I’d have to forget what was right in front of me. A walking, talking reminder of the past. Still alive, but dead in all sense but physical.

I’d spend the next few weeks with her ghost surrounding me. Tuning out her voice, memorizing her walking patterns to avoid clashing. Making sure we were never at the same gatherings or parties, which I’m sure she was too.

And for weeks, I swear I could still see her out of the corner of my eye as I picked up the bow, practicing for what was to come. She’d still be candidly relaxing in the grass, lying down, feet up, chin resting in her palm. She was always watching away, hyper-focused, and judging my every move.

“Hope it was worth it.” Her mouth moved but I didn’t hear the words so much as visualize them, every syllable punctuated, angry and disappointed. I had no answer for her, and instead drew back the bowstring, hitting the bullseye.

- MC -

It was earlier at school that day, he’d been chatting up the rabble and that included Eddie’s sister, being invited over for the house party.

So now I knew he was going, and that meant that event was off-limits to me. Later in class that day I’d been asked, within his earshot, if I was going to the event, I naturally declined, making some sort of excuse. The importance was that’s how we usually coordinated our territory. One of us declined or accepted an invite out loud so the other knew. But after two months, I was getting really sick of it. Why not just act like normal exes that can be around each other? I really didn’t have a problem going to a massive party with him in it. We wouldn’t even see each other a lot, he’s already proved to me he can disappear in a crowd.

He hears me decline, so if he shows up tonight, he’ll be in for a bit of a shock. I wonder if he’ll get the message that I don’t care, see it as a war declaration, or maybe not even notice. Probably the latter, actually. I think I forget that, he really doesn’t give a second thought about me these days. So yeah, I’m tired of playing this silly game of who owns which party and hangout.

Though, I’d be lying if I didn’t consider backing out of this plan until Nina triple texted me in a hurry, telling me she was too nervous to go by herself and get high alone, in a room full of strangers. Who could say no when she added three crying face emojis right after?

- Kevin -

It’s a miracle I didn’t miss a step and fall down the stairs, what the hell is she doing here?

My stoic mask drops just a hint as we make eye contact, she probably wasn’t planning on locking eyes either, as she quickly drops my gaze and I follow suit. Though not after noticing that she was indeed getting high which she knows I didn’t like her doing previously, but live your life it’s whatever. Apart from pissing me off by apparently deciding the rules didn’t apply anymore to not show up to the same event, why is she cuddling up so tightly with Nina? I mean they are practically lovebirds snuggling on the couch, the blonde’s leg casually linked around her ankle-

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Why are you thinking about it? Shit, I came down here to talk with, who again?

I try to make the break in my stride look natural, blood pumping so vigorously I could hear my heartbeat. And to my better judgment, I don't side-eye her as I walk past the couch. This is just a new scenario, albeit unwelcome. A challenge even. We don’t actually have to talk. Just exist in each other’s presence, pretend that this isn’t becoming as daunting as a knife fight.

Now that she saw me here, I’ll have to show some face before I leave, otherwise I'll just look chicken running away. That is a bother, since I’m pretty sure the smoke in here is potent enough to get high on fumes.

- MC -

I don’t want to laugh, I should be at peace with seeing him, and maybe slightly irritated. But the look on his face was priceless and I struggle to hide a giggle into Nina’s shoulder. It’s like I finally, even if for a moment, was a step above him. Then of course the panic I’ve been dreading floods through, sinking me lower into the hold of Nina’s arms; This may have actually been a mistake.

It’s not as if I’m seeing him again for the first time, heck, I even saw him earlier in the day. But that was in the only setting I’d become used to seeing him. Hidden away in the back of a classroom, or halfway across the school campus. An unavoidable fortress of the education system, confining us together without consent.

Ok, I might have considered moving schools’ the week of the breakup. Explaining myself to my mum that morning, freezing and injured in front of a dying flame, was mildly humiliating for me, if not worrying for her. Of course, parents aren’t oblivious, they were teenagers once too; she was worried more about bullying or assault. I could have played into that, quickly changed to a high school on the other side of town. The commute may have been longer, and I would have to begin the whole cycle of making new friends again. But moving just because I was a little heartbroken seemed silly, especially since Kev still lived nearby, and we shared a few acquaintances. NO- the mess of moving school wouldn’t help anything; I’d just be dragging myself deeper into denial.

I just spent a week being depressed enough to qualify as a 18th-century poet, went on a heartbreak diet of tea and, frankly not much else, then cleaned up my act as soon as I came back to school. Apart from the more-then-occasional drug use. I was fine. I am fine.

But back to the intruder of the room, suddenly seeing Kev outside of school for the first time since, well, the night, I couldn’t say I hated it. Couldn’t say it didn’t make me feel like a caged rat either.

Nina had defiantly noticed my discomfort, my shoulders stiffened, and my back angled uncomfortably against the couch when I subconsciously slid further into it. She had been lazily smooshed against my body, almost cat-like, singing along to whatever song was playing. I hadn’t recognized most songs that came from the stereo, carelessly shoved into the corner of the basement. The lyrics slowly fade out from her as she turns at my unease.

“Hey, you alright? You’ve gone a bit stiff.” Her voice was sleepy, but still genuinely concerned.

I realize I have the opportunity to play it off as a bad trip, but I can’t; I really want to get higher. I decide to do just that and fix my position. I give her a sigh, sitting up, and reach towards my prize on the coffee table. The bowl was still packed with enough to take a few good hits without grinding up more, I don’t think Laura would appreciate me misusing her good will.

Nina is still confused as I silently pull in the smoke, throat burning and eyes watering. But I’m not going to leave her hanging. After draining whatever mystery drink I had in my cup, almost forgotten on the table, I place everything back and lean into the safety of my friend. My mouth close to her ear.

“Don’t look, but Kev just strolled in.” I whisper it, trying to move my mouth as little as possible. I mean, the basement was big and loud, but I’d rather lose a limb than let him know I was gossiping. Nina scrunches up her face, scoffing without a care of confidentiality. Ok, don’t make it obvious babe.

“No really? Ugh. Do you want to leave? We can leave if he’s making things uncomfortable.” She’s genuine about that, but I just shake my head.

“Why would he make things uncomfortable?” Could have made a better response than that, I’m still battling not to look over and check what he’s doing.

“Do you think I’m oblivious?” She rolls her eyes at me, “You were like, so depressed when you broke up with that psycho. Your face was all bashed in-“

“I fell.” I correct, as I have multiple times to many people after my injuries were questioned. Not that our relationship was a big secret, but it almost surprised me how many of my friends suspected he was becoming physically abusive and that’s why we broke up. Yeah, the emotional manipulation towards the end, that was a deep hurt for sure. But he was never even that physical when it came to candid touching.

“Yeah, well, you went a bit weird on us when you broke up. Actually, it was already sort of weird when you were dating him.” Her voice drifts off at the end a bit, touching a sore subject.

“First time I’m hearing that.” I groan, unamused.

“Yeah well, no one wanted to say anything. He’s just kind of, I don’t know. Offputting. C’mon, you’d know best! He just gives off these vibes, like he knows a secret we don't. And he's got this weird narcissistic complex. I'm not that into psychology, but I can feel when something's up.” Nina babbles on.

She wouldn’t be wrong with that one. Learning who Kevin is, habits, traits and thoughts, was like finding out an uncanny secret. Parts that shouldn’t work, a design that seemed like a flawed structure. Then, you would dig deeper and find out it was you who didn’t understand. There was a certain magic around Kev that could either pull you in so close it was suffocating, or, well push you away. In either fear or uncertainty.

Well, I shouldn’t give him much praise for that, since I have to remember the manipulation. How he sees people as malleable, either useful or not. Not wholly like a psychopath, at least what I believed, it was more how he preferred to function. Both a rebellious act to the status quo, to the privileged upbringing he resented, and also practical to his nature. Which happens to also be his downfall.

“Let’s not talk about this Nina, I was just letting you know.” I sigh in annoyance.

I don’t want to talk about him, and I haven’t. This is beyond personal, it was forbidden. When that part of my life ended, it was burned away. Literally. I know my friends want me to open up, you can’t just break up with someone and not have a good bitch session about it. But I refused to indulge them with my rants. I couldn’t say he was some asshole I dated. He was an enigma I fell in love with, and I didn’t understand him enough. Of course, he dropped me. I was boring him, right?

Ugh, no not that thought spiral. No speculating on why.

I just told everyone the relationship was over. Just like that. Putting out a flame. No dramas or cheating or infighting. Defiantly no abuse. There was just nothing left. Not enough to keep us together and too much to pull us apart.

Don’t make it any more complicated than that.

“I’m being annoying, aren’t I? I’m soorrryy.” She rubs her cheek against mine, ok defiantly cat-like, and I giggle out an apology. Just then Laura returns.

“Hey, sorry that took a while.” Instead of moving to sit down she puts a hand on her hip and points her thumb back to the stairs. “Ed is being a real brat about letting me take food down here so we might have to move this to the living room. No smoking upstairs though.”

“Checks out.” I sigh. Nina is reluctant to stand but I pull her up anyways, “C’mon. Pizza time.”

“Mmm, and maybe some fresh air too I am suffocating”

Yeah, this room may be suffocating, but for many other reasons.

[babykentthegent]

Lucky 7-Months

Somehow we are nearing the end of the year and what a year it's been! We started the year wanting to adopt a baby and ending the year with a 7-month old. It's been a rollercoaster of a ride, but we wouldn't have it any other way. Kent is learning and growing so fast that it's hard to keep up. His hair is getting long and he now has two little baby teeth in his bottom front gums and two vampire fangs trying to bust through the top. And his personality...he is nothing short of perfection. He's so loving, so silly, and has a way of bringing sunshine into peoples' lives. The love we have for this boy is boundless and continues to grow each day we spend with him. Feels like just yesterday we were flying home from Texas just before summer and now it's almost Christmas!

In the last month, Kent has tried so many different foods. He really enjoys eating solids and is getting better at using utensils. That's not to say that he is clean about it - we find food all over the place, including the ceiling. He just learned that the dogs will lick his hands clean and has turned it into a little game. The friendship he is developing with the dogs is so special and warms our hearts. Between our two giant hounds, his grandparent's small pooch, and his nanny's birds, we think Kent is developing a strong love of animals.

With this year being Kent's first Christmas, we've been considering what traditions we want to either create or carry on with him from our families. The holidays certainly feel more exciting now that we have a kiddo. With Christmas having been my mom's favorite holiday, and her having passed away in December, the last five Christmases have felt like a candle that had been blown out. Kent has brought light and joy back into our lives and this year Christmas feels special again. I can't tell you how many lives Kent has touched with his mere existence, but I can tell you that he has completely transformed ours. As the year comes to an end, we can't help but feel immense gratitude and are so happy for the honor of showing Kent the world.

Some of the traditions we hope to introduce him to:

Reading the Night Before Christmas on Christmas eve

Opening one present on Christmas eve

Leaving out cookies and milk for Santa + carrots for the reindeer

Watching Christmas Story on Christmas eve and Lord of the Rings trilogy (extended edition) on Christmas day and dad's birthday

No Elf on the Shelf for this family - My ADHD brain won't possibly remember to do this every night not to mention Rob thinks it's creepy, haha! To each her own! ;)

Kent got to meet Santa for the first time not once, but TWICE. He did so great and didn't even cry! That was until Santa turned him around to show the camera his booty message. We were no longer in eye sight and he no longer had his parents to reassure him that he was okay. It made for a fantastic photo, though! The second Santa he met was while visiting Rob's family. It was such a nice surprise and Kent loved tugging on Santa's beard. He also got to meet some distant cousins that were closer to his age. His cousin Penelope even taught him how to hug properly. It took a couple eye pokes, but he eventually figured it out.

Kent has been surrounded by family and loved ones this month. He really seems to be social and loves interacting with everyone. So many people have told us how good he is, how he never fusses, and is such a laid back baby. This kid is all smiles and is so good at communicating what he needs. Kent spent time with multiple grandparents, aunties, uncles, and cousins. He loves everyone and everyone loves him. <3

Christmas is just about here and we could not be more excited! We know he'll likely only be interested in the wrapping paper and less on the gifts themselves, but I am just grateful that we get to experience his first Christmas together and to begin our family traditions.

Happy new year to everyone reading! We hope that 2024 is full of new adventures and more happy memories ahead!

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

Sarmenti takes a bow, delusions of confetti and roses crowning him reflected in the pools of blood and the wet sinew of exposed muscle. He was laughing to himself amongst the eery silence of it all, like the scene of his crimes had no effect on the fox that had gone mad long ago. The gentle rumble cradling him like a lullaby brought him standing upright to face the brilliant blues of someone he feels he can trust. One of the few. The sweetness of hope was too tantalizing to not follow it even for him whose mind had gone long ago.

He could still feel the sharp pain of the knives or perhaps it was just the tug on his stitches... The quiet chimes from the bells on his cap brought him to focus, "I'm afraid you missed the performance, you would've loved it." Another quiet barking laugh to himself, "They were a bunch of idiots running around like chickens missing their heads. Did you need me or were you just coming to feed? I'll I'll open my veins if this isn't enough, small crowd, but artists take what they can get." His mask practically smiled despite the lack of features, Haru was always a fun sight.

── 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ── 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

"Nonsense." Haruko chirped, navigating the gruesome landscape glistening ominously with ichor puddling in the grooves and cracks of the cold earth. One close enough he reached out, his fingers brushing gently under the curve of Sarmenti's jaw, and held his cheeks tenderly. "This is perfect, we’re very pleased, Sarmenti. Clean and quick — " he murmured, his voice smooth and reassuring. The faintest sound however, a struggling breath, nigh imperceptible — caught the keen attention of the vastayan and his large feathered ear flicked down instinctually to hone in on its origin. Wells of cornflower blue sparkled with curiosity as he craned his neck and peeked around, catching a singular shiver escaping from one of the bodies that lay motionless on the ground. I see you.

Quick as wind he was to it, and he had little hesitation as he lifted his foot over the lifeless form, his claws clicking against one another as theirsharp tips gleamed in the dappled lowlight of Ionia's woodland. The talons curled against the thin, yielding flesh along the spine, descending deeper into the body until finally a yelp of pain sounded from their lips. He swore he heard a rumble of satisfaction from Tarhos.

Haru's full lips curled back into a wicked smile. The sharpened canines, glinting like polished ivory, peeked out from beneath his full, dark lips, while the rim of his gums bore an unsettling contrast against the pallor of his teeth. Each twitch and wince from the human below him seemed to feed his amusement, a twisted pleasure evident in the gleam of his eyes. But as soon as it began did it end, and with a swift, almost playful motion, he withdrew his talons. The razor-sharp tips left behind fleeting trails of crimson that were soon splattered against the delicate periwinkle petals of a nearby berry bush. After relishing the spectacle, he turned his attention to Sarmenti. His hand moved gently, scratching behind the fox's large ears before sliding away to rest on his own hips.

"It seems your performance has not yet reached its curtain call~ I'd love to watch you work, if you'll have me, of course."

Haruko's smile was a gentle curve now, warm and polite, and his eyes softened with understanding when he gazed upon their masked face. He did have a fondness for their foxy friend - the relentless hand of fate had been cruel in its beatings of them; and Haru was happy to offer solace. The Lhotlan understood the weight of the burdens they both bore and he cherished the trust that had grown between them. He knew Sarmenti's loyalty was earnest and true, he had no need to force it from him, and least he wanted to do was frighten him.

"What did you use? Some sort of miasma?"