#the quote unquote worst thing i ever said about him

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I wish I could talk about the Joker without immediately getting spammed with a bunch of messages about how I "clearly don't understand/appreciate him as he's meant to be." :/

[one-abuse-survivor]

(English is not my first language sorry for the mistakes I'm doing my best) I'm also unsure if this is a question, a rant, a vent or whatever. It just. I need to talk about this to someone.

My mom has the worst taste in men and she refuses to acknowledge it impacts me too. She left my father the first time he hit her, I was two. I had to go there until I was nine when he disowned me. She'll talk about how he'd talk to her and he was manipulative but she never acknowledges when he'd lock me in my room for days with only a bed and a bucket to pee in, the nights I spent alone in the car in a night club parking lot because he wanted to party. She'll say how he slapped her once and how it hurt her but refuses to say anything about me. She found and read through my diary of the time and made fun of it. She pretends he never hurt me, only her.

And her current man is not the same but he sucks so much. He's not abusive but like he's not normal either. They've been dating since I was 5 and he's constantly threatening to slap me and insulting me. He constantly says that quote unquote everything that goes wrong is because of me. He turns my little brother (his son) against me and encourages him to hit me. If I dare breathe in the same room, I'm disrespectful. I think he resents me for being another man's child but there's nothing I can do about it. When I try and make the meal, he's dieting so he won't eat (but he will eat a pound of candy that same evening). When I clean the house, he assumes I've done something wrong and I'm trying to be forgiven. When I don't, I'm an ungrateful little bitch who ought to know her place.

My mom thinks she's the best mom ever and I have to pretend to agree. She assumes that if she thinks something, I do too. I am not allowed to have my own opinions. She discovered about my being suicidal a few years ago and yelled at me for hours for being selfish. She threw all my stuff out the window into the street when she felt my desk was too cluttered and forbade me to go pick things up. She hit me when I was little and she hasn't in several years but it feels like she's always on the verge of blowing out. I can't proofread an essay with my mom without seeing her screaming, throwing my laptop across the room and hitting me until I'm on the floor whenever there's a mistake or just a misworded sentence. I don't ever recall her doing that out being violent to the point my brain makes her out too be. I love her and I know she loves me but I don't even know what to think anymore.

Nonnie, I want to start by saying I'm so sorry you've been put through all this.

Your father badly abused you, and you deserve for your mom to acknowledge that. And I need you to know that your mom's new partner is abusing you too. Everything he's done that you've mentioned here is abusive. I understand why you might think he isn't, because, as you said, he's different to your father. But insulting you, belittling you, threatening to slap you, and painting you as having bad intentions no matter what you do or don't do... All those things are also abuse.

And your mom is abusive too. Hitting your child is abuse. Yelling angrily at your child is abuse. Violently throwing away your child's things in a fit of anger is abuse. Angrily throwing your child's things across a room is abuse. Not allowing your child to have their own opinion is abuse. Never acknowledging that your child was abused by their father is abuse.

She can love you and still abuse you; both things can be true at the same time. And you can love her and still acknowledge that she (as well as her partner) are abusing you.

You deserve so much better than everything they're putting you through, nonnie. You deserve better than to be pitted against your brother and be turned into the family's scapegoat. You deserve better than to be treated like you always have bad intentions and you're always selfish and out to hurt them. I really hope, with time, it becomes easier to believe that all these things are abuse and that you don't deserve any of it.

Sending all my support your way ❤️

[creative-anchorage]

From Relationships 2.0: An Antidote to Loneliness, in conversation with U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy:

VEDANTAM: When you became a doctor, you met a patient early on. His name was James, and he told you that the day he won the lottery was the worst day of his life. What did he mean by that, and what have you taken from his story, Vivek?

V MURTHY: This was one of the more striking conversations I had with patients over the years. And it happened very early on in my career when I was in primary care clinic, and James walked in. I was meeting him for the first time. I had reviewed his chart and found out that he had diabetes and high blood pressure. He was struggling with obesity as well. And one of the first things that he said to me was that he won the lottery, and it was one of the worst things that ever happened to him. And the surprise must've shown in my face because he said, oh, you want me to explain why. And I said, I would love for you to. I've never met somebody who won the lottery but also didn't expect that it would be the worst thing ever. What he said is that before he won the lottery, he used to work at a bakery. And he had colleagues in the bakery that he loved. He had customers who loved what he made. He didn't make a lot of money, and so he lived in a modest neighborhood in the Boston area, but he knew his neighbors, and he liked them. And so he had a modest life as he described it. But after he won the lottery, he figured, gosh, I've got everything that I need. I don't need to work anymore. So he quit his job. He sold his house, and he moved to an expensive neighborhood on the water in a gated community where everyone had big houses and large properties and big fences in between their properties. And he started to realize that having, quote-unquote, "made it," he now felt quite lonely. He didn't have those relationships that he realized had been so important to him, far more important than he had thought, with his customers and colleagues and neighbors.

And as he became lonelier, he became angrier as well. He found himself angry at his neighbors because they had big fences and didn't seem to care about him or anyone else. He found himself angry at old friends from the bakery who he felt weren't keeping in touch with him. He became angry, and he was alone. And it was shortly after that that he developed obesity and diabetes and high blood pressure, and that's what brought him in to see me.

And it was a powerful reminder for me of two things. One, it was a humbling reminder that all of the things that I had studied in medical school had not really prepared me for this moment because I had never really studied anything about loneliness or understood it to be a problem. You know, I'll tell you, Shankar, that was a hard moment for me also because I felt helpless. I didn't know what to offer him. It was - I felt utterly ill-equipped to address what was clearly the issue that was on his mind. I could tinker with his blood pressure medicines. I could adjust his insulin. And I did do those things, but I left with this feeling of dissatisfaction knowing that I was not equipped in that moment to provide him what he needed. 

[bellshazes]

so hypothetically speaking, if i were to take on the 10 year backlog of ethubs content….. where would i even start?? its so much content that it’s totally overwhelming to me, and you seem like the only person on the planet to have sifted thru all of it, so i need ur wisdom 😭

trust me I have not and I know there are others (hi rio) but imo the key is to just. follow your heart. they are constantly bringing up old stuff and each other anyway so you will find new shiny things to go check out if you start anywhere. like, the whole reason I watched UHCs for the first time is bc of etho lying to say bdubs voted him out (not a UHC mechanic) and called him a son of a sweetheart in his LP. that said, I do have a masterpost of my fave bdubs mindcrack episodes which frankly is a lot of etho + bdubs, as well as a list of some of my favorite clips.

off the top of my head, suggestions to poke around in:

survival of the fittest, s1 and s2 - bdubs' death game with prox chat. the handcuff thing in s1. i shan't say any more. watch etho for s1, bdubs for s2.

nether hubs, mindcrack s3 and s4 - literally the s4 one is so good, and the episodes they build it in also cover some of the best death games 2.0 moments between them. chicken noodle soup. etho's POV for the first one but bdubs for the second, if you have to pick.

feed the beast call of duty pvp arena - one of the first but not the last arena project. highlights include bdubs ordering etho to strip and also them killing each other for fun.

speaking of arenas, the immediate sequel to the COD map is the fire and ice arena in mindcrack s4. etho builds a house outside the arena itself, stealing bdubs' block palette, and only an episode or two later getting bdubs to help and decorating his room across the hall with quote justin bieber posters unquote, causing at least zisteau to later ask if bdubs really is a belieber.

whatever the episode is that etho hires bdubs to kill someone for him and then showers him with meat in mindcrack s3

here is a secret: i have not yet watched The Trial. but it's foundational. all the etho vs. the b-team stuff is so funny especially how often he and bdubs are literally collabing on something at the same time.

UHCs - etho's POV of UHC 4 is classic and victorious. bdubs' POV of UHC 11 is the worst thing i've ever seen in my life, watch it immediately. there's other ones but i haven't seen most of them because i feel compelled to watch for Live Bdubs Reactions but it makes me want to throw up every time. because he is Insane.

OOGE - three different CTM maps, ymmv; this ranking is spot on, but i've also watched OOG (bdubs + guude) so like clearly my tolerance is not normal. watch kaizo caverns

horse courses, mindcrack s3 and s5, hermitcraft s8 - beyonc? and taylor swift horses of all time. you really just should watch etho or bdubs' first mindcrack seasons. s5 mesa one also features doc and genny and the running sick joke you will recognize from the s4 nether hub and last life.

those three entire episodes of etho helping bdubs with his spawner situation that's only in bdubs' POV, starting with bdubs going oh let's not bother him and then freaking out a little when etho volunteers himself to help. the first but not the last time etho says he wants to live in bdubs' basement.

hermitcraft s7. just the whole thing both their povs don't worry about it, you already know, etc. but personal soft spots of course for etho killing bdubs with kindness and the delivery boy saga, which references an ancient joke about pink shirts. also hcs8 overlapping last life and bdubs' very very blatant etho-obsession is just so much.

also of course the life series but instead of telling you what you already know please consider how bdubs signing his invoice "luv bdubs" to etho but reading it out loud as "love, professionally, bdubs" aired immediately after "he loves me! he cares. he does" happened. we don't talk about that weird little no homo enough

thank you for reminding me i need to finish the etho mindcrack best of list. i'm surely missing a ton of stuff but this is a rough approximation of my favorites and/or essentials. but seriously i have jumped around and finished some series, only watched a few select episodes of others, and straight up forgot to finish several more. be free! go nuts. (you will go nuts. this part is not optional)

[stufftippywrote]

not an astronaut

This is based off a personal experience. Tw for fat-shaming, homophobia, and general assholery from an asshole kid.

The bell rings cheerfully as Bitty steps through the doorway. This was one of his favorite places when he was younger. The eclectic curios, every shape and size and color, packing the shelves were an endless source of fascination for young Eric Bittle, and the owners were friends of the family, so they knew Bitty well and didn't freak out when he picked up a ceramic pepper shaker or glass figurine and held it in his hands like an ancient treasure.

He walks through the store with that same sense of wonder now, 30 years later, and brushes his hand reverently over the shelves. They’re not looking for anything in particular today, but Bitty has told Jack about this place so many times, he simply couldn’t help but visit. Besides, you never know when you might find the perfect accent piece for the new home.

Chicken-shaped serving bowls, a porcelain figurine of a girl dancing, a set of silverware in a dusty wooden case. Bitty is spoiled for choice. As he browses, there’s a movement at the back of the store, and he catches a glimpse of someone hauling boxes through a door. He wonders who runs the place now. The sign still says Thompson’s Antiques, but he knows Mrs. Thompson passed and Mr. Thompson is getting on in years. Could it be that…

A prickle of fear runs through him.

The figure in the back drags the box to a nearby aisle and starts unpacking it, placing items on a low shelf. Bitty’s curiosity overflows. He moseys into that aisle and begins to speak, but the man raises his head before he can get a word out. He has to catch his breath all over again.

The man’s face goes slack. “I know you,” he blurts.

Eric puts his hands on his hips and gives a bright smile. “Davey Thompson. So you’re here after all!”

~~~

“Davey, this is Eric. Eric, this is our little boy Davey.” Mrs. Thompson’s smile is bright as she urges her son forward. “Why don’t you two go play at the playground while Mommy and her friend talk?”

The kid is tough-looking, with ruddy cheeks and a thick build. Eric reaches out his hand to lead Davey along the way. The minute they’re out of earshot, Davey snatches his hand back like he’s just touched a hot stove. Eric turns, surprised.

“You’re fat,” Davey says.

Eric blinks.

“You look dumb,” Davey adds on. And thus a quote-unquote “friendship” was born.

~~~

Davey stands up. He still has the same tinted cheeks and stocky build that Bitty remembers, but his face is sunken somehow, and he’s built up muscle where baby fat used to linger on his arms and shoulders. He’s got a tattoo on one arm – a Japanese koi fish, mid-splash.

“Nice ink,” Bitty comments.

And Davey Thompson, for possibly the first time in his life, smiles at Bitty. “Thanks.”

“The shop looks nice,” Bitty says, surveying the shelf like it’s his domain. “Hasn’t changed much since I used to come here.”

“You’re – you’re Eric Bittle, right?” Davey says, sounding almost scared of the answer. “From school?”

“From way before school,” Bitty responds. “You’re looking good.”

“Uh. Thanks. Same to you.” Davey looks uncertain, almost sheepish. There’s a moment of awkward silence. Davey tries to break it. “Um. So. What are you –”

He doesn’t seem to have the strength, or the will, to come up with the rest of the sentence. Bitty picks it up. “I’m a pastry chef,” he says. “I have a bakery and I cater, and I’ve put out three cookbooks. Can you imagine that?”

Davey looks kind of stunned. “Wow,” he says slowly. “Good for you. Where’s the bakery?”

“Up in New England. Providence, Rhode Island, to be exact.”

Davey snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you went to college up there. For hockey, wasn’t it?”

~~~

Bitty takes a swing at the ball. He misses, and it goes tumbling behind him into the net.

“Hah, you’re the worst goalie,” Davey says.

Somehow, Bitty finds the courage to say, “Let me play forward.” But his words are swallowed by the passing of a car on the cross street.

“What?”

“You be goalie.” Bitty gives the phrase all the menace he’s got in an eight-year-old body.

Davey laughs, a cruel laugh that sounds like ripping paper in Bitty’s ears. “Why? I can score on you all I want. That’s why we made you goalie.”

Resentment simmers like a low sun in Bitty’s gut. He wants to challenge Davey to play him on actual ice. He knows Davey can’t skate. As bad as he is, Bitty can’t possibly lose to him there. But the words stay stuck inside, plastered to the inside of his stomach, making him feel sick.

“Worst goalie ever,” Kevin chimes in.

“The worst, the wooooorst,” all four of them sing to him.

Bitty crouches low and is glad they can’t see much through the oversized goalie mask. Someday, he thinks, someday I’m gonna get them.

~~~

“Something like that,” Bitty answers easily. “And you’ve been here running the store?”

“Pretty much.” He doesn’t look very proud of that fact.

“I remember you used to say you were going to be an astronaut.”

“Ah, well –” The rose tint on Davey’s cheeks grows a shade deeper. “We were kids. I figure I missed my shot to make something of myself.”

All of Bitty’s nurturing instincts come alive. “Don’t say that. You’re doing well. Doing good, honest work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nah, man. It was just the easiest thing to do, once Mom got sick. I had to be here for her, and I … just stayed.”

Bitty gazes at him. This isn’t the attitude he expected from Davey Thompson, not in the slightest. He seems so defeated, as though Bitty’s arrival has reminded him of everything he isn’t. Bitty doesn’t want to be that for him, but he doesn’t think he has a choice in the matter. He quashes the small, self-satisfied demon that’s cackling in the back of his head. He’s not that kid anymore, either.

Just then, the chimes jingle at the front of the store. The babbling voice of a young child brightens the room. “Ah,” Bitty says, “there they are. He had to keep them outside a while before they calmed down. Little kids just work themselves up into a dither sometimes.” He offers an apologetic smile to Davey and retreats down the aisle toward the front of the store.

Suze is quiet, but it’s clear she was crying her eyes out earlier. She hangs on to her Papa with a fierce fist. Robby’s eyes are bugging out at the sight of the store. “What’s that?” he keeps asking, tugging on Jack’s slacks. Jack himself looks a little the worse for wear, but happy. That kind of tired-happy that they see in each other’s faces every night once the kids are in bed.

“Come on, Rob,” Bitty says, holding out his hands. “Want to see Daddy’s favorite store?”

Robby holds out his hands to be picked up. Bitty obliges, despite the warning creak of his back. He turns to take Robby further into the store and sees Davey standing there, staring them down.

He points. “I know you, too.”

“Ah, here we go,” Bitty says with a laugh.

“Were you in school with us? I don’t think that’s right, but—”

Jack holds out his hand for a shake. “Jack Zimmermann,” he says. “And you are?”

“My old friend Davey,” Bitty fills in. He can’t help but put a pointed emphasis on the friend part.

Davey clasps Jack’s hand but doesn’t seem to want to let go. “You’re Jack Zimmermann? The hockey player?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Davey pumps Jack’s hand about four more times before finally letting go. “It’s – it’s good to meet you.” He looks at Suze, still curled up in Jack’s other arm. “And these are your kids? Or—” He turns to Bitty, face contorted in confusion. “Are they your kids?”

“Both,” Bitty answers cheerily. “Davey, meet my husband.”

Davey Thompson very nearly has a coronary right there.

~~~

“Hah, you’re just small all over, aren’t you?” Davey says with a pointed glance at Bitty’s crotch.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” Bitty retorts, but he pulls up his boxers right quick.

“Yeah, some people are just born stupid,” Davey agrees. Bitty instantly regrets replying at all.

Kyle whispers something in Davey’s ear. They both laugh.

“You’re right,” Davey says. He turns back to Bitty. “He’s right. They do say things about you.”

Bitty’s heart drops to his stomach. “W-what things?”

“You know! That you’re—” Davey flaps his wrist.

He doesn’t seem to have the nerve to say the word, but he doesn’t have to say it. The others in the locker room laugh.

For not the first time, Bitty is tempted to just ask, “So what if I am?” But he can’t. Not to these people. This isn’t how he wants his coming out to happen. So he just turns away and pulls on his sweatpants, ignoring the rills of laughter that echo against the lockers, and feels small. Small all over.

~~~

Davey recovers from his shock and nods his head rapidly. “Oh, I get it. Uh, congratulations. Uh, Bittle, could I talk to you a sec?”

He has that sheepish look again. Bitty watches as he retreats into one of the side aisles. “Gimme a sec,” he tells Jack, setting Robby down, and follows Davey.

When they're isolated, Davey turns to him sorrowfully. “I, uh—” Davey looks at the floor. “I was pretty mean to you in school.”

It isn’t what Bitty expected, not at all. To be honest, demons in the back of his head aside, this sort of thing doesn’t bother him so much anymore. Why should it? He’s married with two kids and a brand new home. He doesn’t spare a lot of time thinking about the distant past. “Um,” he starts, suddenly terribly embarrassed.

“No, let me—” Davey raises a hand. “Just let me. I said a lot of nasty things to you back then. I’m really sorry about it. I think about it a lot, and I’m just – I’m really sorry.”

There is a piece of Bitty that’s happy, even smug, at hearing this apology. But mostly he just pities Davey at this point. What a thing to carry around your whole life. “We were kids,” Bitty says. “Kids say dumb things. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Still.” Davey says.

“I can’t say it didn’t hurt me,” Bitty goes on. “But I turned out okay, don’t you think?”

Davey laughs grimly “Yeah, look at you … and look at me.” He shrugs.

“You seem to be doing all right,” Bitty says charitably.

“I’m not an astronaut,” Davey says.

Bitty laughs. “Neither am I. We’re all good.” He pats Davey on the shoulder. A moment passes between them, silent, as they both listen to the sound of the past giving way to a new, kinder present.

After the moment passes, Bitty grins “Come on, I’m going to introduce you to my kids. Do you have kids?”

Davey flushes. “Yeah, I got a teenager. A real smartass. I wonder where he learned it.”

“Pictures!” Bitty declares. “Get that phone out, I demand pictures.”

Davey struggles to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. This time, he flushes with pride. He narrates the story of each photo as they walk back toward the front.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a twitter thread by @/shockproofbeats "Seamas It Ever Was", starting with the tweet "Got my days wrong and ended up alone in a room with my boss and the President of Ireland while I was on ketamine."

This is said in response to a tweet by @/b3ta "b3ta", which says "We want to hear about your work related fuck-ups. Reply, quote tweet, do your worst."]

[The thread continues as follows: "Right, this was when I was eighteen so don't judge me too harshly. Or if you think drugs are cool and I'm a legend, fill your boots. Anyway, at the time I was working through college in Dublin with bar shifts at [redacted] music venue. One day I get a call on my day off.

"Way the gig worked, you'd either get Fri or Sat off. This week it was Fri, happy days. My manager, let's call her Dympna, pipes up on the phone: "So, when you come in this evening, just a few things to remember". I'm like, hold on Dympz, I'm off this eve, jog on. She corrects me.

"quote "Remember I said you could get all of Saturday off if you just worked 2 hours tonight?" Unquote. And of course THEN, I did suddenly remember, she'd said it to me as I was leaving the building and my conscious work brain was doing somersaults to get out of the place.]

["She could have told me I was to have my foreskin tattooed with a harpoon and I would have given her a smile, thumbs up, and a flurry of yeps to get out of the place. I was eighteen. On minimum wage, and - bear in mind this is really saying something - my absolute minimum effort.

"So, I'm bang to rights and I say quote "yeaaah, of course, sorry just got my days mixed up, I'll be there no problem" unquote, and she says, quote "this evening will be fine, just the head of the [redacted] and some VIPs, few hours then you can take off" unquote.

All good. Except for the one thing.

"At that very moment, I was in a mate's house on Dame St, relaxing with (I thought) nothing to do for the evening.

Now you have to remember that, before dabbing and fortnite, kids used "drugs" to get high and I was, occasionally, adjacent to them.]

["I was a fairly sheltered kid before college, and didn't even drink til I was well into my late teens, never smoked even. I was very green. So too, coincidentally, was the homebrew ketamine that said pal was making IN HIS OVEN when I arrived.

"My pal had gotten it in liquid form and, for some reason, it had been dyed green - he has subsequently told me he thought it was a St Patrick's Day promotion, and I've always thought it a charming entrepreneurial flourish on the part of his enterprising ketamine wholesaler.

"(Ketamine wholesalers are often vets, and the stuff originally for cats. People always say horse tranquiliser, either to make it sound more sordid or more badass, but ketamine is used on many animals, and vets have more use for cat tranqs than horses. Not quite as sexy is it?)]

["Anyway, for want of a better idea, I took him up on his offer of a line of this thick, vaguely slightly clumpy bright green powder, knowing I had nothing else to do for the evening. Felt nothing. Had a tiny further bump 10 mins later. It was at this point that my phone rang.

"FLASHBACK ENDS, WE'RE BACK IN THE ROOM. So I'm definitely sweating after the call, not like instant come-up, more worried ABOUT the come-up. Never done this in my life, I've no idea how it's going to feel. But, absent any other idea, I get my stuff together and head to work.

"On way to work, starts kicking in. You know when the roof of your mouth starts politely folding your brain in half, and your chest flutters like a cathedral filled with bees? I was holding it together but knew if I stopped concentrating for one second, I would become time itself.]

["By the time I reach work (twenty mins later) I am sweating like microwaved bread, eyes on hinges, convinced my fingernails owe me money. I have an overwelming urge to yawn, just to get the memories out WHEN in comes Dympna with the rota for the evening.

"D: Thanks again, know it's short- oh, you look a bit hot and bothered, did you run here ha?"

Me: Hmnnnnnyes, I did - the dids is"

D: OK, just you tonight and the top man, he's showing the President what's going on for the next while"

[one beat] Me: Sorr din you sez de presddyen?"

"D: Yes, Mary McAleese is in to see this season's programme of events.

Me: Hmmnggg

D: All you need to do is stand in the corner and offer them drinks every fifteen minutes. Me: Ahhh yesssshnshh

D: Maybe have a wash beforehand]

["So the gig is this: Mary McAleese (the *original* MMA) was to go round this room upstairs which had upcoming acts for the season illustrated with photographs and programme notes. The director of [redacted] would walk her around and say "fricken great, Madge innit?" or whatever.

"My role is pretty weird, I have to stand in the corner and then every 15 mins, INTERRUPT this live-wire pair to offer them drinks, which protocol dictates they must refuse. I have barely processed any of this before I'm grabbing a tray and heading upstairs.

"The tray, btw, contains a white wine, a red wine, a G&T, a whiskey, a rum and coke and some mineral waters. Always found that mix weird. Imagine the President of Ireland seeing the rum and coke and going "oooooh nice one, ta - now tell me about this Latvian choir again".]

["Right now I can hold it together when stimulated, when the adrenaline and fear is keeping me just ticking over - I'm weird but with it. Problem is, my job is now to stand silent and motionless in a room on my own until the President of Ireland arrives.

"Time passes on my own. Empires crumble and glaciers dissolve, stars die and oceans melt, out on the dusty planes of mother earth, hot bursts of young love gift the miracle of life; children are born, raised, stricken infirm and die of old age.

And then Mary McAleese walks in.

"By now, having been alone with my thoughts for the entire Cretaceous period, I am no longer mildly weird but deeply, extravagantly deranged. As the President of Ireland walks in, with my boss's boss's boss's boss, my first impulse is to greet them like I own the place.]

["It would be rude, surely, to not acknowledge their presence? Out of order even. Best thing to do would obviously be to say "hello guys" like it's my home and I live there, in this big white room, where I stand in the corner, alone, holding a tray of drinks, like you do, at home.

"Me: hello guys

"(All capitals) "HELLO GUYS". Attached is an image of a plastic baby doll, with the head squished vertically.]

["Anyway, by the divine grace of the infant Christ, they somehow do not hear me say this, and begin their itinerary round the room. I clench my entire head and focus on not shouting across the room to let them know that they should always feel at home here in this room of ours.

"I become extremely aware of my hands, and how I haven't felt them in a very long time. They're detuned to static, which would be worrying even if they weren't holding a tray of drinks filled with noise. and judgement. I hold no faith or creed other than "do not drop these plz".

"Just when dropping everything seems to become less urgent, I realise it's time to go over and offer these motherfuckers some fucken drinks, let's get this party started wooooooo]

["I begin walking over to them and I move so abruptly that the glasses clink and they turn to look at me. I did this too fast. Now I'm thinking wooooah slow down there martina hingis, so I self-correct to a much slower speed. Watching my breath, nice and casual, you got this buddy.

"Guys. GUYS. Now, I'm moving far too slow. I started at this speed and I'm to embarassed to change and now it's gonna take me like 5 mins to cross the room. They are watching me, frowning and sweaty, traversing the 5 foot between us like it's a wooden plank on the Crystal Maze.

'I'm moving so slow my legs are cramping. I think they're wondering why it's taking me so long. It's way harder than walking at normal speed. I'm shaking so the drinks are making noise again. For what feels like minutes.

Anyway, I offer them the drinks and they say no.]

["Do this another two times - how long was this presentation anyway, is this what the President does all day? Give her a brochure and a carryout ffs - and they say no. By the end, I've calmed down a bit in physical side (sweating, shaking) but I still feel completely batshit.

"At one point I clearly remember believing that my mind had escaped my body and was watching me hold the tray of drinks from the wallspace behind my head. Only out-of-body experience I've ever had.

At the very end, they do accept a drink. It was at this point she spoke to me.

"Just some inane pleasantries, to which I reply with some off-the-hook pablum about work and college, at which point she says;

Quote "Oh, is that a Northern accent I detect?" Unquote.

Dawgs, you know I'm down for the Nordie solidarity vibe, but this is the last thing I need right now.]

["Quote "Yeeerrrsh" unquote, I say, with a goalkeeper's glove in my mouth. She starts talking about her experience coming down to study here, how it can be a real scenic change, but the making of you if you keep your eyes open to new experiences.

I can tell she definitely means green ketamine.

"She's a lovely woman, and very open and generous with her time, giving me ample space to answer her questions which I mostly do with sheepish, one-or-two-word answers. Finally, she asks me if Dublin is everything I thought it wou-

Me: YES I LIKE IT I THINK IT'S GOOD

"I'd been paying such fierce attention, I'd mis-timed my reply AND badly modulated my volume. She actually recoiled a little. I think the head of the venue actually stepped back and said "jesus!".]

["Mary McAleese flinched for what seemed like half a second, then flashed her best your-mum's-sound-mate smile and replaced her white wine on my tray. The boss man nodded at me, they walked out of the room and I waited a few seconds before making my way downstairs to the kitchen.

"So at this point I'm thinking, wellll, I'm definitely fired but this will one day make a great story on an Nazi-riddled microblogging platform. I make my way to the staff area, wipe my sopping face and check my phone. I had only been in the room for 35 minutes.

"Dympna pads in all smiles, thanking me for my help at short notice. She sees that I'm a bit freaked and says, almost with a wink, quote "you could have told me you'd be like this, by the way" unquote.]

["I'm thinking, of course, Dympna gets what's up, it's the service industry, people mistime their vibes, I bet this isn't the first time she's seen some-

"I had no idea you were such a huge fan of Mary McAleese"

I'm sorry what again was that did you mean

"The boss man had indeed related the events upstairs to Dympna, but rather than a frightened waif hepped up on cat tranqs, he'd seen a political nerd deeply, irretrievably starstruck by contact with the 8th President of the Irish Republic, Mary McAleese.

"Presumably a political nerd with a gland problem, and low-grade artritis in both legs, and a tendency to welcome people into their workspaces, but a political nerd all the same.

Me: Oh, yeah well, you know, it's embarassing. She's, just amazing.]

["And you know what, she kinda is. She was always very nice to me each of the subsequent times we met - me doling out the drinks, her asking me how Dublin was getting on, all the while the other staff eyeing me to see how I was dealing with such close contact with my hero.

"I'd gurn and fret, play up to it when she'd be coming in, "oh what am I like". I'd bat away suggestions I fancied her from the more ribald members of the changing room, and laugh along with the usual jibes, safe in the knowledge my nerdy affect had saved my bacon.

"So take ketamine at work, it's great.

END."]

please read the best twitter story i’ve seen all week

[mirrorfalls]

Harvey Dent?

Sorry, Harv. Looks like we almost made Bingo.

Expect a more coherent version of this if @about-faces and I ever get that book off the ground: I truly believe Harvey has the potential to be the single richest character among Arkham's most wanted, if not the richest in Gotham period. I'm not as emotionally invested in the nitty-gritty of his backstory as some fans, but I'd have to be the worst kind of liar to say "Eye of the Beholder" doesn't pull miracles that somehow make a son-of-a-boozehound narrative look genuinely fresh and interesting even in 2022. More than just daddy-hit-me-so-now-I'm-bad, it's a bloodcurdling feast of Implication on how no rules are really better than the people who set them; on how the powerless and vulnerable can get fucked in the most horrific way by even the (seemingly) clearest lines and stipulations. And what does that say of Harvey himself, who at his most (quote-unquote?) heroic went to work for the Justice System, which inflicts that on thousands-if-not-millions of poor and marginalized people every day?

... that said, I'm also grateful that "ACAB (Yes, Prosecutors Are C!)" isn't (yet?) the prevailing fandom take on Harvey. A guy who was just Always a Cop and Always Doing Bad Things for Cop Reasons doesn't really a riveting recurring foe make. If Batman himself doesn't feel at least a little bad putting his boot to Harvey's face(s) every time, then what's the point?

(For the record, my golden take on Harvey probably exists genuinely nowhere in canon: an information broker a la the Penguin who knows full well he has no real powerset beyond owning some guns, and usually takes every pain to make sure things don't come to blows with any of the mask-and-cape crowd. The tension in any given interaction with him would come from figuring out which of his personalities - which are equally charming and polite in most circumstances - gave you a specific piece of info. For extra "fun", neither of them has a truly, predictably conventional view of right and wrong. Did "good" Harvey tell you that hoping you'd get arrested, because he doesn't think you've got enough skills to be a costumed hero? Did "bad" Harvey tell you that to get back at a genuinely horrible guy... who stole his parking spot last week?)

Also, just on a purely superficial level? I think that he's got, hands-down, the most timeless design and gimmick out of all the rogues. You need zero cultural context for the juxtaposition of "Aww, such a lovely face! + DEAR LORD THOSE SCARS" to hit at 90mph, and only a little more to grasp the Rome-ancient concept behind a coin-flip.

(Character Opinion Bingo! Accepting entries till further notice!)

[script-nef]

No need for jealousy, sweetie | Kageyama Tobio

Category: fluff

2k words; Is it a famous idol? Is it a high-skilled setter? Nope. It's his own son.

Everyone knows Kageyama Tobio, the genius setter of Japan’s national team and a member of The Monster Generation, is a love-struck fool. It’s not that hard to find out, seeing how his normally rigid and scowling face immediately turns soft and full of tender affection as soon as his wife is mentioned. His reaction is the same when his son, who celebrated his first birthday just a few months ago, becomes the topic of conversations as well.

The news of his son’s birth was posted all over Japan’s news as it consisted of a video uploaded onto his SNS account where you were beaming like a sun with your newborn baby in your arms while Tobio was silently crying his eyes out. He then moved to embrace you, words of thanks and love spilling out in between hiccups and cries. You joked that he cried more than you during the labour and everyone in the room was either laughing or comforting him.

You once attended one of his matches with Hikari in your arms, cheering for your husband and his team. As soon as the match was finished and congratulations were given, he zipped to your side and took the baby off of you. Hikari, recognising his father, gurgled joyfully and snuggled deeper into his embrace. As you started talking to Tobio, they both looked at you with an identical expression, like it was copy-pasted, that fans nearby took hundreds of photos. It’s one of the highlights in compilations of “Kageyama in husband mode” videos. (Other popular uploads include interviews where he doesn’t shut up when asked about your health or questions about your relationships. A lot of his fans started liking him thanks to YouTube’s wacky algorithms.)

Tobio is the embodiment of a devoted husband and father. Despite his odd memorisation skill which seemed limited to all things volleyball related, he never once missed an anniversary, birthday or doctor’s appointment. He even excused himself from practices for you. You can still hear how Hinata screamed “You’re skipping volleyball practice? You?” when he delivered the news. Interviews and commentaries after matches were cut short, much to his company and team officials’ dismay, because he couldn’t waste a second returning back to your side. He always repeated “[Name] is waiting. Goodbye.” with a bow and took off. He also wakes up practically instinctively to the baby’s cries even after he’s wiped out due to his rigorous training. The amount of superhuman stamina he has made you jealous since you’re half-dead after exercising a bit while he’s fit as a horse. He says any exhaustion he has evaporates as soon as he sees his son’s cute little face. A weird and floppy smile appeared on his face whenever he took the minuscule hands in his.

Hikari is practically a carbon copy of his father. Same piercing black eyes which look odd but strangely suitable on a one-year-old, smooth black hair growing in tufts and a round face with baby fat filling out his plump cheeks. Tobio sometimes pokes his chubby cheeks while he’s sleeping, hands trembling like he’s about to touch a priceless artifact. If you took a photo now and compared it to one of Tobio’s childhood ones, even he would be confused. They’re just that much alike.

When his teammates and friends visited to celebrate Hikari’s first birthday, their reactions were… quite interesting. Apparently they didn’t expect the child, a genetic offspring from Tobio and you, to have the similarity percentage lopsided to 99 and 1. Hinata argued 99.5 and 0.5 which caused another fight to explode between him and your husband. 

It was very childish, the arguments thrown around being the equivalent of “Look at him! Are you sure you didn’t just split into half like that thing with the cell?”  “Mitosis, idiot.”  “Why are you still so mean, Tsukishima?! But yeah, mitosis!”  “What the hell do you think you’re saying, dumbass? He’s so much like [Name]!”  “Only you can see that, Mr Wife Idiot!” and so on. It was cut short when Hikari started crying due to the influx in noise and Tobio’s Dad Mode kicked in.

In your eyes, it’s absolutely adorable. Two copies of your favourite face in the world to wake up to and fill your life with. While pregnancy was a pain, right now is paradise. Especially since Hikari is a quiet and calm kid just like his father. By now, you should be concerned if they’re clones rather than father and son.

But recently, Tobio’s kind of miffed at Hikari for some reason. That doesn’t mean he’s neglecting his child, he would rather die than do that. He’s as attentive as ever, if not even more so than usual. Using his overpowered athletic skills to respond to Hikari’s whines or cries much faster than you, he drops everything and runs out at the smallest indication of discomfort. It’s also not because having a baby is a handful, they’re meant to be like that.

No, he’s just incredibly jealous of a one-year-old because “he’s taking up all your time and affection when you promised to love me most in the world”. 

When he first said that, your initial reaction was to double-take because you thought you heard him wrong. The thought of “Well. My hearing is failing now” echoed in your head. But no, this dork was being possessive and filled to the brim with envy over his son. His own. Son. As unbelievable as it sounds, it’s kind of in character for Tobio. Tobio who has various epithets like:

King of the Court

Volleyball Idiot

Number 1 Wife Fan

Mr “I have two brain cells and one’s for volleyball and one’s for my wife. A third one is sprouting for my son.”

And plenty of other variations.

So far, the attempt to make him understand the needlessness of his concerns and jealousy haven’t gone well. Generally, it starts with your defence of “Tobio, I love you and Hikari equally.” “You said you would love me the most in the world!” “Fine then, I love you the most in the world.” “I know you’re lying!” “Sweetie, please.” Rinse and repeat.

He turns dejected after every single “fight” and curls up into a ball, refusing to talk to you unless you hug and kiss him. He thinks he’s sneaky and manipulative. He really isn’t, you have him playing in the palm of your hands.

But it’s going to become a real problem if he’s going to be jealous with the tiny tenant who’s going to be around for at least another 2 decades. And the worst thing is that you can’t regularly find advice since his closest friends aren’t… much of a help.

Hinata looked at you like you were crazy in one of your rare meetups. Tsukishima acted like he was actually getting sick from your concerns, that salty bastard. Yachi, kind and helpful and sweet Yachi, was the only one who made valuable contributions with Yamaguchi. It’s such a shame they’re so busy that they can barely have a social life nowadays.

“Hmm… I mean, he stills loves Hikari, right?”

“Yes. Endlessly.”

“Well then… how about treating him exactly the same as you did before Hikari came, if not more affectionately? That’ll show him that his son, his one-year-old son who doesn’t even understand the concept of jealousy, is not a quote-unquote threat.”

“Just threaten to leave him alone for like, a month if he keeps on being possessive. That’ll wake him up.”

“Tsukki!”

“Oh hello, Satan, didn’t think you'd be contributing. How’s roasting the souls of the innocent going?”

“It’s going fine. Would they really be innocent if they’re in Hell?”

“It’s a joke, Sea Salt. Also, that would crush him!”

“That’s the whole point.”

“I think you’re using this just to annoy him.”

“You’re thinking correctly.”

“Back to the topic at hand! [Name]-chan, just reassure and spend a lot of time with him.”

“That’s literally what I’m doing right now! Ughhh what should I dooooo…”

“You know it’s really annoying when lovestruck couples come and complain about their relationship like it’s a problem when in reality you’re happy, right? Just saying.”

“Tsukki, she has a real problem here!”

“Eh, does she though?”

And of course, that line of conversation took off before you could object and continued for the rest of the visit. So all in all, the two-hour lunch date with your friends resulted in a public commotion which nearly got you kicked out of the café. You were about to return home with no solid solutions when Hinata grabbed and stopped you.

“Hinata?”

“[Name]-chan, I’m sure it’s going to be fine. I think he’s just like this because he spent his entire life looking at either volleyball or you, and now that a third party has entered, he’s just not used to it. Time fixes everything or something like that, right?”

“It’s already been a year though…”

“Yeah, well… I’m sure he’s getting better. I remember when we visited you on Hikari’s okuizome, he was literally looking at you for the entire time. The entire time. When it was his son’s 100th day anniversary.”

Yes, Tobio spent the whole 5 hour party/ceremony with his eyes glued onto you, until everyone berated him for his lack of attention. Hinata literally flung a rubber band at his head and he didn’t even flinch. It was the main topic of conversation in your friend circle for the next month or so.

“But when we came again for his first birthday, Kageyama was all over Hikari! I think the transition of his love for you to Hikari is a bit slow, if that makes sense. He probably thinks the love you have for him is getting smaller compared to his love for you. Our Kageyama’s a bit of an idiot like that, right?” You don’t really know whether to nod or shake your head. “The fact that you’re hesitating kind of says everything, [Name]-chan. It’ll get better when his love for Hikari matches yours, okay? Hang in there!”

With a swift but warm hug, Hinata ran off to do his training. 

The entire walk back home was filled with ruminations. Hinata was probably right. Kageyama’s attitude was slowly, but surely changing now that you’re thinking back. The ratio of his time with you and Hikari was 9:1 when he was just born, but recently it was more like 8:2. It should be concerning that this is the progress after a year of living together, but it’s better than nothing. You probably have nothing to worry about.

“Tobio, I’m home!” Silence welcomed you back. “Love? You home?” It was one of his rare days off and he said he would be taking care of Hikari so you could enjoy some free time while he can sleep in for the day. Also because his team instructor forbade him from meeting with Hinata since it always ends with a 3 hour volleyball match. 

“In here.” A tiny reply emerged from the nursery. He always came running as soon as the front door creaked open like an overgrown puppy since you started living together, so this was surprising. Quietly tiptoeing in, you were met with your baby sleeping soundly in your husband’s arms, sucking on his thumb and sleep-babbling intermittently. Tobio’s face was one of love and pure happiness as he watched Hikari snoozing away like he didn’t have a care in the world—the same face he made when he stared at you. When he raised his head up to look at you, his eyes were filled with joy and warmth, crinkling in the edges. 

“He’s so small.” He whispered, careful not to wake Hikari up. You joined him by his side, gently nudging your child’s chubby cheeks and revelling at its softness. “I have this… this feeling in my chest whenever I look at him… the same one whenever I see you.” Tobio’s hand came up to cup your face and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“I love you both so much.”

Yeah, you have nothing to worry about. 

[slaygentford]

Helloooooo miss emily I Need to hear more of your thoughts on michael!dean. started s14 for the first time and it's, like, everything I have ever wanted since day fucking ONE. I can't articulate my thoughts on it because my brain is short-circuiting thru a combo of s*xy jackles-minus-the-texan-accent and complete fucking vindication.

I have not seen the season other than the selected Michael clips which good FOR me and I genuinely have nothing to say except I can’t believe that he did thee campest bitchiest fairiest performance for it, king. “BECAUSE HE DOESN’T CARE!” egot. EGOT!!!! I will say the thing that makes me nuttiest about it is courtesy of dean turned tricks truther jackles and also courtesy every SINGLE time that Zachariah said dean was Micheal’s quote receptacle unquote. combine these and you get two things. one, Michael is the worst john dean’s ever had. two. the pathos of dean not having to sell his body for like twenty plus years by s14 and having to do it again here is like. HORF.  I'm your perfect vessel. don’t you want me. WHOOF!!! fellas is your self conception ever reduced to this: dried up hooker trying to get one more client>??? fellas?? jackles didn't know what he did when he floated the dean turned tricks idea at that con in 2007 or whenever. but it lives in my head rent free when his entire thing w the angelic vessel deal is whether or not he’s gonna sell his body. heaven said, you’re a body to us. heaven said, we’re just like every man you ever swindled a twenty out of. when sam said, angels are dicks, what dean wouldn't give to have replied: Sammy, angels are just like any other john, you gotta get the cash upfront. and with Michael he DID NOT GET THE CASH UPFRONT. and what happened??? Michael went nuts with his body and now everything’s fucked. but first he did have to seduce Michael into agreeing, after all this time, to still want him. and that is nutso. in the words of unreleased demo trash magic, boy you wanna come to my motel honey? it’s been a long time

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 10

Chapter 9

After a quick diaper clothes change, Arella was quick to join the brothers at the table, Cyrus tucked comfortably in the crook if her arm. It felt like a normal morning, albeit just a tad quieter. Whether that be due to the events of the night prior or just in consideration of the baby, it wasn’t quite so clear. She took her usual seat next to the place where Mammon usually sat and began to eat. The only one who looked even a little uneasy was Levi likely due to how he felt about having been the one to suggest last night’s movie.

They all spoke casually amongst themselves as they ate, multiple of them having to stop Beelzebub from consuming the food that had been set aside for Mammon as the demon in question joined them shortly after. It had taken him a while to find clean clothes, realizing he really should do his laundry soon. It had probably been a good two or three weeks at least since he’d washed anything. With everything going on, he just didn’t have the energy lately. Thank the celestial realm for his human helping him out with his school clothes.

All their heads turned to him as he joined them at the table, a round of ‘good mornings’ rang out and he returned them. Two asked how he was feeling after last night, the rest carried on with their own side conversation figuring he didn’t need to answer the question four times over.

As breakfast came to a close, Arella took her leave to feed Cyrus once more and Mammon returned to his room to gather up his dirty clothes and begin the process of doing his laundry. Thankfully, it was the weekend which would give him enough time to have all five of his school uniforms ready to go while also not hogging the washer and dryer all day.

“Man, I gotta start doin’ my laundry more often...” The Avatar of Greed sighs. “The amount of clothes in here is ridiculous.” He hefts the basket of clothes into a more comfortable position in his arms and carries them down to the laundry room.

------------------------------------------------------

“Mammon, do you want to go shopping with me?” The Avatar of Lust chirps as he catches up to his brother while he’s working on switching his clothes from the washer to the dryer, “I need a new outfit for date night tomorrow and I’m sure you could use a shopping spree too considering you haven’t really gone out to spend or visited the casino lately. Even last night, when the three of us took the baby out, you didn’t even buy anything. You know what happens if you let your sin build up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just gimme a couple hours to get a couple more loads done. I’m kinda runnin’ outta clothes to wear.”

“Alright, three hours good?”

“Three hours is perfect.” The white haired demon says as he loaded another round of clothes into the washer. “Thanks, Asmo.”

The strawberry-blonde demon only nodded as he headed off.

------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Mams... Can we talk for a minute?” Levi asks as he approaches his brother.

“Yeah, I got a few minutes before I go out with Asmo. What’s up?”

It takes Levi a few minutes to speak. “I’m really sorry about last night. I should have screened before we watched it.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Ya said you had never seen it before and wanted to watch it with all of us, right? And you were so excited ‘bout it, so it’s fine.” he shrugs.

“But it wasn’t fair to you...” The Avatar of Envy frowns. “We shouldn’t have even watched a horror movie to begin with. I know you hate them but you still watch them with us anyway.”

“’Cuz I know you all like them so I jus’ bare with it for the time being. Y’all are my brothers, so I just want y’all to have fun even if I suffer for a bit. Y’know what you always say about me, I’m a masochist through and through.” He smiles, hoping to make his little brother feel better. “I don’t blame ya, so don’t blame yourself, ‘kay?”

The third-born only nodded, feeling minimally better after finding out the second-born didn’t blame him for what happened.

He ruffled Levi’s hair as he flashed him a smile. “Alright, I gotta go, love ya.”

“Love you too,”

------------------------------------------------------

As the pair of demons walked down the street, Mammon was distracted. He was lost in thought as he thought back to the conversation he had with Arella. He thought about telling Asmo as even though Arella had told him she was comfortable with everything they had done together but he felt like she was telling him a half-truth just to spare his feelings.

“Are you alright, Mammon? You’re not as talkative as usual... Mammon?”

“Huh?” blue to gold gradient eyes look to his brother. “Yeah, I guess I’m alright. Just thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’...”

“Care to share?”

Mammon considers this for a few moments, deciding maybe he should tell his brother about what’s on his mind. “You can’t tell a soul about what I’m going to say, ‘kay?”

“No promises,” The demon says in a sing-song voice, “You have some good gossip?”

“It’s not gossip, Asmo. You absolutely have to promise you won’t tell anybody.”

Asmo’s eyes widened at his brother’s words and the serious tone in his voice. “Alright, what’s on your mind?”

“Arella told me something last night... She told me she was...” He’s not sure he can say it but thankfully Asmodeus seems to get the message.

“That’s horrible. How did it happen?”

“A quote unquote boyfriend drugged her drink when she was sixteen.” The demon has an irritated look on his face. “The bastard was twenty three, like who seeks out a teenager like that?”

“Boyfriend?” The Avatar of Lust has a disgusted look on his face. “Sounds more like a predator to me.”

“Right?! It makes my skin crawl just thinkin’ about it.” He exhales, “She’s such a good person and some monster takes advantage of her and does that?! If I could get a name and a face, I’d absolutely destroy him. The worst part? She blames herself for what happened, for making a mistake.”

“I’m not surprised,” Asmo frowned. “Considering how the human world treats women- she may very well have been told it was all her fault- especially as a minor? I don’t know what her family was like but to end up with that mindset, it’s very possible she didn’t have anybody to for her what we’re doing for you.”

Mammon only frowned at that. “Yeah and now I feel bad for pushing so hard. She said she wanted all that but I feel like she was only sayin’ that just to make me feel better. Is that wrong of me?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so... You love her so it’s only natural that you would worry about having forced her into a situation she didn’t want. But I also don’t think she would lie to you just to make you feel better. Can you remember a time where she’s ever been disingenuous with you?”

“No...”

“Then I think you should take her words at face value. In all actuality, I think she only told you because she wanted you to know you weren’t alone and she knows what you’re going through.” Asmo smiles as he pats Mammon’s shoulder. “And if you’re still worried about it, think of it this way: As long as you had a resounding ‘yes’ at all times from her, then you shouldn’t worry about whether or not you forced her to do it. Or you could do the adult thing and actually talk about your feelings as scary as that may be.”

Mammon only rolled his eyes at Asmo’s comments.

------------------------------------------------------

The pair got home later than intended. As they split up, the Avatar of Greed made his way up to his room. Everything seemed to be fine, there was no baby crying and the house seemed at peace until he got to his room. He tossed his bag into the closet and slid down the railing on his staircase. That’s when he heard it, a small sniffling sound.

“Treasure?” He called softly as he approached the bed, placing a hand on the ball of blankets that his human had buried herself under. “Hey, look at me.”

A soft ‘no’ was heard from under the blanket followed by a ‘I’m alright, don’t worry’ which had the opposite effect on him. So, he just made himself comfortable beside his mate, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close so her back was pressed to his chest. When she was ready to talk, he would listen and if the baby monitor went off, he would do all the work tonight. It was the least he could do since she practically took care of their son on her own around the clock when he couldn’t even look at the child for the first few weeks.

He rubbed his thumb over her stomach in a motion that was meant to be comforting. While not exactly what he wanted to do, their position didn’t grant him much elsewhere to rub if he wanted to keep his arm wrapped around her, he hoped it would have the same effect. They just lay together in silence for a time as her sniffles slowly came to a stop. She was so quiet, Mammon thought she might’ve fallen asleep until she moved her head from under the covers and slowly turned to him, allowing him to move his hand to her side.

“Wanna talk about it?” The demon asked as she shook her head in response. She cried regularly for others but she wasn’t much for crying when it came to herself and when she did, it was often over nightmares she wouldn’t tell him about. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. I don’t like to see you so upset and not be able to do anything to help you, Baby.” It was an offer he hoped she would finally take him up on. She only let out a sigh as she moved closer to him and he reached up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry I was so selfish last night...” She catches his hand in hers and just holds it to her cheek. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No...?” The Avatar of Greed wracks his memory from last night, trying to think of anytime she could have been selfish. “When were you selfish?”

“When I told you I had been assaulted...” Her response only leaves Mammon more confused. He hardly considered that to be selfish at all. She was only trying to reassure him everything he was going through was normal.

“How was that selfish?”

“I made the situation all about me when it should have been about you. I’m sorry.”

“No you didn’t? ‘Rella, Baby, you get to talk about your feelings and things that have happened to you too, y’know. Everything’s not always about me. Actually, it was kinda validating to know you understand what I’m going through.”

“No, I don’t. I just want to help but I always bring things back to me some way or another. My problems aren’t important. They’re not a big deal. I’m just attention-seeking and being selfish a-and-- mmph!”

He couldn’t take listening to his human, his treasure, bring herself down like that anymore, choosing to silence her with a kiss instead. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together as he looked into her eyes, glossy from her earlier tears.

“Do you know what an amazin’ person ya are?” he asks as he rolls them so he’s leaning over her, “You get to talk about these things. Your problems matter. You're not bein’ selfish or attention-seeking when you talk about them. Hell, for somebody whose primary sin is greed, you’re probably the most selfless person that I know. You are patient ‘n kind ‘n giving. You do way more than anybody asks of ya. You give so much love and don’t ask for anything in return for it. I don’t know who the fuck put those thoughts in your head but ain’t none of ‘em true, got it?”

“It.... It was my mother....”

———————————————————————-

Next

Find more on my Masterlist

[taehyungsbabyygirl]

Socialità

Chapter 1

Genres: Light fluff, tinge of romance and wholesome(?)

Warning(s): The littlest bit of sexual tension if you squint

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Fortune, fame, beauty.

Those are the things that people had associated you with.

Who does not know Y/F/N Y/L/N? You're basically in every magazine cover, every Youtube thumbnail and news headline. Surpassing Kylie Jenner as quote unquote The World's Richest Young Businesswoman and even beating Ariana Grande as the most followed female influencer on Instagram.

Who really are you? Well, to explain it simply to people who are unaware of you, your businesses and socialite status, you are the owner of a multi-billion dollar brand.

What started with a small online business at 16 which sells nightwear for women with affordable, cheap prices had bloomed into a luxury brand known for their elegant, classy clothing line, ranging from lingerie to formal clothing such as glamorous dresses to charming suits and tuxedos for both men and women.

The brand name? After years of rebranding, it's finally official that the name is, Socialità. Fitting with your brand's target market which were rich socialites from across the globe. Of course there was a reason for that, considering that the materials were high quality, imported ones such as satin and silk from Japan, Egyptian cotton, and French lace, also the designing and productions team who were amongst the best in the art of fashion and exclusivity of everything that was made under the brand, without a doubt would result in a higher cost of production and simultaneously a higher price for the merchandise itself.

And all this success did not come easy, there were countless times when you wanted to hideaway and give up on everything you had invested on. At the age of 28, you finally got to where you are now, thriving with the business that you had built with your own bare hands from the confines of your own bedroom.

But, there was one thing that you were lacking in, the love department. Although you were pretty much well-known by youngsters to elders alike, luck does not seem to be on your side when it comes to romantic relationships. It's not that you weren't romantic or sweet enough, gosh you are a hopeless romantic actually, but you just somehow fall for the wrong person, time and time again.

All the people you had dated once you established a name in the fashion world were either self-centered jerks or gold-digging leeches who were only there for the fame and riches. It's as if you had dated way more men than Taylor Swift ever had, except, you don't call these people out in songs.

Aside from owning a lavish clothing brand and billions to your name, having to work with socialite circles, had granted you the socialite status too. You'd be lying if you say that no rich bachelor had tried to flirt around with you but, your previous horrible experiences with dating as a successful businesswoman made you put your guard up and in the end turning you into the most sought after bachelorette of the 21st century.

-----

"What??? The Bachelorette?? Gosh guys, that would be a horrible idea." You shook your head, swirling the red wine in your glass before sipping on it.

It was a normal weekend evening for you and your peers aka your personal management team which consisted of Selma, Carrie, Lulu, Trey and Giovanni. Sitting in the dining room of your enormous mansion in Calabasas while drinking cheap wine and munching on Cheeto Puffs.

You just finished ranting about how you are so unlucky in love and that you're almost turning 30, without being cuffed to someone. In your opinion, people in their late 20s had already met that person and having good balance in their work, social and love lives but you're here having a nonexistent love life instead.

Tired of constantly listening to the same rants over and over again, Giovanni proposed that you put yourself in a controversial yet exciting TV show, The Bachelorette.

"Girllll you should give The Bachelorette a try, I mean I know that the show is basically scripted but it seems exciting, no?" Giovanni chirped.

"Oh my god yasssss! I'd have the time of my life if I'm surrounded by a dozen of good-looking hunks!" Carrie joined in and daydreamed.

You snorted and put your glass down on the marble surface of the table.

"Yeah but the men on there are usually insincere and only in it for their 60 seconds of fame and the winner of the show is probably just motivated by money. What difference does it make with me going to a private party or nightclub and getting to know dudes there?" You retorted; brow raising to your two friends.

"Sis, the difference is, these men would have to submit a form regarding their background and audition for the show! If you want, we could even be your reps during the audition. We know who are the best people for you!" Selma answered your rhetorical question while pouring herself another glass of wine. She's your PA and bestie so she knew how to reply with the same energy as yours.

Sighing deeply with your fingers pinching your nose bridge, you thought once, twice, thrice and made your decision. Well, what's the worst that could happen right?

"Fine, fine! I'm in with the idea. But if this thing goes south, I.Am.Out." The dominant businesswoman persona in you presented herself whilst the others, especially Giovanni, cheered upon your agreement with their idea.

-----

After months of preparations for your big reality TV debut, it was finally the day for the first week of The Bachelorette. Although you're the one being the prize and the one being chased, you felt uneasy and nervous to meet the men who had passed the auditions to become contestants.

"Don't worry! Me and Giovanni made sure that we only let the best ones pass the audition. And when I say the best ones, I meant, socialites, doctors, businessmen and even kinsmen of royalty!"

"Only the best for our QUEEN!"

Those were the words that came out of Selma and Gio's mouths. Thankfully you have these reliable people to help filter through the applicants of the program. If you gave the show's producers 100% control over who comes in and comes out of the show, it'll be a hot mess and they'd probably choose the men based on their looks and bulkiness but not necessarily the brains and skills.

Throughout the audition process, all of the men's background and names were kept a secret from you by Selma and Gio, it'll be a surprise, they said and you trusted them with it.

Sitting at the back of a limousine alone, you started to fidget with the dangling diamond of your earring subconsciously; a habit that you developed whenever you had cold feet.

The vehicle was heading towards the villa where the first meeting would happen between you, the bachelorette and your suitors.

You and the production team had discussed about how the first meeting would be. You thought that the idea of having to stand in front of the villa's front door while the men arrive in limos were quite cringy and not to mention time-consuming and unnatural so you proposed the idea of having the men arrive in a first come first serve basis and sit in numbered rooms in the villa while awaiting you. In that way, you could see who was punctual and who was late. But the catch is, the contestants only have 5 minutes to chat up with you and leave a good first impression.

-----

Alas, you finally reached the villa and stepped out of the automobile. Your dress was a satin, rosé coloured one with a modified A-line, basque waist and halter neckline; glamorous yet not over the top, suitable for a socialite like you.

Not wasting any time, once the cameras started rolling, you entered the ginormous villa and headed upstairs to the rooms, knocking the door gently before entering the space.

The first man you met was Kim Namjoon, he introduced himself as an engineer, a sound engineer. He was confident from the get go and eloquent too.

"Hmm an engineer ay?" You propped your head with the palm of your hand; leaning against the couch's back pillows.

"Yeah.. My family insisted I do that. I wanted to be a musician at first, and that's why I took up sound engineering now." He gave out a dimple smile which you couldn't help but grin at. They're adorable.

You liked his presence and how outspoken he was but sadly the 5 minutes were before you knew it.

Next, you met up with a gentleman named Im Jaebum. A winery owner. He gave you a warm hug from the first time you entered the room.

"I heard that you're a wine conoisseur yourself Y/N? I'd love to take you to Napa Valley where my winery is. I'm sure we'll have a blast there." He smiled and acted a bit smug.

"That sounds like a plan.. I'm not a person who would say no to wine." You replied with a light wink, returning the smugness to him.

Continuing on, after Jaebum, you entered a room which looked bigger than the previous two you'd been in.

By the big window, there was a man with broad shoulders who introduced himself as Kim Seokjin, as he turned around, he greeted you and pecked your hand.

"Nice to meet you I'm Kim Seokjin, just call me Jin." He smiled softly, inviting you to sit down next to him.

"Nice to meet you too Jin.. So what do you do?" You asked carefully; quite intrigued by how good-looking he is with the slicked back hairstyle he has.

"Well I'm a professor of English and Korean Literature. Probably one of the most uninteresting jobs among the other guys." He timidly admitted; being quite humble.

You immediately disagreed with his statement, telling him that literature components are fascinating and that educating people about it is a magnificent job.

Afterwards you conversed with a man named Park Jinyoung. He was also extremely dashing and he's a car dealer. But not just any car, the ones he sells are top brands such a Lamborghini, Maserati, Tesla and Ferrari.

"My job is amazing. Good money, good image, but there was something missing and I think we both could relate to that, we both are looking for love." He half-bragged which didn't really impress you but you agreed nonetheless.

As you politely excused yourself to move on to the next room, where the man was leaning back and scrolling through his phone. Fair skin and contrasting ebony coloured hair.

This guy gave off a cold vibe to you but that made you even more intrigued to get to know him.

"Hi..." You sat on the couch with him and he gave a small smile as he put his phone the side.

"Min Yoongi.. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand out to shake yours. A pretty formal greeting despite the consequences you two were in at the moment.

You two kept the conversation going by talking about your jobs and background. Everything you asked, he answered in all honestly and you liked that. The push-and-pull game was a fun one to play but with Yoongi, the small talk you had was chill and relaxed, the most natural one you had the whole night.

Up next was a kind looking male, taller than Yoongi who seem to be nervous about meeting you for the first time.

"Hello!" You greeted him with a bright smile to ease his anxiousness.

"Hi, hi.. I'm Mark Tuan. I'm an artist.." He abruptly greeted you back.

"Ooh! Like musically or..?" You tilted your head.

"Visually.. I draw and paint."

You led the conversation with the man since he looked very hesitant and awkward the whole time.

The next room had a bubbly and energetic man who was basically radiating good vibes as you entered the room. His name was Jung Hoseok. As you peeked into the room, he immediately walked towards you and gave you tight bear hug with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Well besides my job as a paediatric specialist, I also enjoy dancing. Do you like to dance?" He jumped off the seat and proceeded to pull you up with him to playfully salsa. His actions made you laugh happily.

"You're so spontaneous!" You hit his chest lightly, still laughing at you guys' actions.

After the exciting interaction between you and Hoseok, you had to calm down and lower your expectations again after it skyrocketed because of the doctor earlier.

That's when you met a muscular man, if Hoseok earlier had radiated good boy vibes, this one radiated bad boy vibes.

He was Jackson Wang, a well-known socialite who is the heir of Wang Co. Ltd. A company which sells electronics such as smartphones, tablets and computers.

"Hello.." You said softly, slightly intimidated by the man's comparably bigger size to you.

"Hello, pretty lady." He took your hand in his and kissed it just like Jin had but his way of executing it was different. The male kissed each of your knuckle and it got you culture shocked.

"Oh wow.. Okay.." You laughed awkwardly as you looked at the man kiss your hand.

The conversation went well with him despite you noticing that he was practically staring at your with those deep brown eyes while you spoke about yourself to him.

The sexual tension was there and you were hoping, praying that the next man would tone down a bit and let you relax, thankfully custom jeweler, Park Jimin did.

"I'm a jeweler.. And can I just say, I adore these diamonds. You have remarkable taste." He proceeded to run his hand gently through the diamond earring you were wearing.

"Thank you! And I absolutely adore this choker you have on.." You reciprocated his action which made him smile softly.

Next up was the room of a private jet pilot named Choi Youngjae.

"Nice to meet you Y/N! I hope we could create good memories here. I'd love to bring you on a helicopter and show you the aerial view of California." He mused but you're not entirely impressed but acted as if you were in order to not hurt his feelings.

"Aww I'd like that. The view must be amazing!" You cringed at your own words but smart enough to mask it.

Hmm, you foresee someone who's potentially going to go home first in this show. His words lacked personality and character and not well thought.

Come on, you obviously had rode a helicopter and saw the aerial view of California. You ride it to work whenever the traffic is congested. He could at least thought of another country or state but instead he settled with Cali, the state where you are based in.

Disappointed, you moved on to the next room, surprisingly, the atmosphere was different, the area was dimly lit and the man sitting on the chair had his legs spread.

"Hi.." He spoke with a deep, low voice that caused you to bite your lip.

"Hello.." You smiled amidst the tense situation, making your way towards him.

"Kim Taehyung.. Fashion designer and owner of TH Couture." He answered without you asking.

The male was quite blunt but his demeanor was alluring. There was a mysterious aura circling him, totally someone to keep an eye on. The conversation was as intense as Jackson's but the two of you had the same interest which was fashion so you didn't feel as awkward as when you were with Jackson.

After Taehyung, it is down to three more people, you were already losing momentum and excitement as you already had spoken to 11 men that night. Before entering the next room, you took a deep breathe and loosen up your shoulders.

In the room was a man, he looked the most different, he had a lengthy name, a Thai one.

"Kunpimook Bhuwakul, but just call me Bam Bam.. I know my name's quite long and I'm also more comfy with Bam Bam.." He bowed to you like a gentleman and smiled handsomely at you.

"That's an adorable name! Bam Bam huh?" You sat down and grinned at the latter.

"You think so? You're adorable-er" He winked at you and caught you off-guard.

As the five minutes of jokes and flirty pickup lines ended, you bid farewell to the Thai man, little did you know that the person you just talked to was related to the Thai royal family.

Entering the 2nd last room, there was a tall man, looking around the well-furnished room but as soon as you came in, his attention diverted to you.

He greeted you with enthusiasm, introducing himself as Kim Yugyeom, an app developer and gaming streamer.

"Gosh you're pretty." He said straight-forwardly while smiling brightly and hugging you snugly.

"And GOSH you're tall!" You replied with those words and the same smile as what he had on his face. At this rate, reciprocation is really your best friend when you don't know how to react or reply to a certain remark from the suitors.

You talked about the apps Yugyeom had developed and the variations amazed you. He had created tons of apps such as games, workout apps, e-commerce platforms, online stores and sorts. But when he started talking about games, you began to lose interest in the chatter. Games weren't your strongest suit but you were happy that he is passionate about them and sharing it with you.

Finally! The last room! Which meant that this person is the last person to arrive to the villa. You wonder who this latecomer is and when you got into the area, your eyes widened.

Jeon Jungkook? He was somebody you had worked with and still actively working with. He is the person in charge of the photography and videography for Socialità and seeing him on The Bachelorette is a huge surprise.

"Wait.. JK?" You didn't know how to react.

"Hey! There's my girl!" He walked towards you with his bunny smile and gave you a hug. You couldn't believe that this was happening, Selma and Gio must've put him in to pull a prank on you.

"One question. Why?" You laughed in disbelief.

"Can't a man try?" He questioned back cheekily.

You two continued the conversation casually without any awkwardness as the two of you had known each other already. That was when you got to know that he had taken a liking on you ever since you two started working together. Everything he told you had sounded sincere so far.

-----

After the first meetings were over, all the men were put in the lounge to get to know each other's competition while you were interviewed by the crew regarding your first impressions of all of your suitors.

"Well everyone was pleasant. But there were a few who didn't pass my vibe check. I guess we just gotta see how it goes." You gave an ambiguous answer to the camera.

"Who do you think caught your eyes the most?" Henry, the producer asked.

"Hmm.. I don't want to seem bias, I mean this is the 1st episode after all but... Hoseok was fun to be around.. Jackson came off very strong. And well Jungkook too of course!"

"You seem to know him.." The producer stated.

"Yes yes.. We actually work together.. I didn't know that he'd want to participate in this show too." You shrugged and flashed a pearly white smile.

"Do you see anyone who might be going home soon?"

"Oof.. That's a dangerous question. That'd probably be ..."

To be continued (3 March, 12 AM, KST)

Author's note: Sorry for the delay guys! I underestimated the length of this chapter but I hope you guys like it! Don't forget to like and reblog this to show support! Also follow so you don't miss out on updates! This chapter is more of an introductory chapter so we'll be seeing more action and interaction between Y/N and de boyzzz.

Who do you think would be eliminated first?

Tagging @aretha170

[cinnaminsvga]

🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: I know I said this update wouldn’t be written, but I decided to fix the little drabble I already had written and... It’s not as bad as I thought and now I’m moderately happy with it. Anyway... We’re entering angst city babey so please put on your seatbelts because we are SOARING! || W.C. 1.8K

prev // part 18 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

After sending his last text to you, Namjoon is only slightly surprised when he sees your caller ID flashing on his phone screen. When he looks at the time, he notices that it had taken you less than a minute for you to call him, no doubt ready to scream your head off at his outrageous suggestion. Admittedly, he knows that his idea might be a little outside of your comfort zone, but he believes you can do it. If his people reading skills are even remotely average, then he’s sure that it’ll work if you just—

“KIM NAMJOON! HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU COME UP WITH THAT CONCLUSION?” Your voice is loud enough to burst an eardrum, but luckily, Namjoon had already expected your volume and had held his phone an arm away. In his nine-ish days of knowing you, he’s somewhat accustomed to your theatrics, though you’re still no match for Hoseok’s excited shrieks.

“Hello Y/N,” Namjoon hums, sitting up groggily from his bed. It’s a bit too early to go to sleep, but he supposes that your panicked screams are going to keep him up a little bit longer. “I feel as though you’re overreacting a little.”

“A little?” You scoff loudly, and Namjoon can imagine you pacing circles in your room. You did always seem a little fidgety when you two went out together. “Namjoon, you can’t just expect me to go on a date with Jungkook—“

“Why not? You guys go out all the time, don’t you?” Namjoon points out, smiling slightly at your exasperated huffs.

“Well, that’s different! Those were platonic hangouts! Just bros being bros!”

“Then change the context a little bit. You don’t have to ask him to be your boyfriend just to go on a date.”

“Namjoon, I know you’re a smart man but I don’t think your math skills are all that great,” you say brusquely. “That doesn’t add up! If I ask him on a date, then he’ll know I’m into him and—“

“And that’s a bad thing?” Namjoon interrupts, raising a brow. “Y/N, we both know you’re being a little unreasonable right now.”

You splutter for a moment, but you find that you’re unable to retort. Namjoon smirks, continuing, “Y/N, I know you’re worried that Jungkook might get swept away now that he’s quote-unquote ‘single.’ I get it. But if you’re not going do anything about it and suffer in silence, then he’s definitely going to leave. Besides, I already told you that he probably likes you back, judging from how jealous he got. You could probably even ask your friends and they’d tell you the same.”

You snort. “God, I’d rather die than talk about… love stuff with those freaks I call friends,” you cough out a laugh, muffling the sound before it can continue. Namjoon knows you’re a bit conscious of your “unflattering” snorts, but he just finds them cute. A lot of the things you don’t like about yourself are cute in Namjoon’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine going to any of them about this… They’d just bully me and make me do something I don’t want to do!”

“Isn’t that basically what I’m doing right now?” Namjoon laughs, giggling even harder when he hears your tired groan.

“Yeah, but you’re nice. Unlike those meanies,” you say. Namjoon hates to admit it, but he does appreciate being special to you, even if it’s over something trivial like this.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Namjoon starts. He can hear you humming in agreement, but he doesn’t stop there. “But, it is a suggestion. Seeing as how you don’t have any other idea how to solve this mess, I’d say go for it. What’s the worse thing that can happen?”

“Um? I get rejected? Hello?”

“You don’t have to let him know it’s a date, you know.”

“What do you mean? Namjoon, you should stop speaking in riddles because I honestly don’t have enough brain cells for this, clearly.”

Namjoon sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… What if you fake date him?” When you don’t reply immediately, Namjoon is quick to keep talking. “Not that I’m asking you to stop fake dating me! What I’m trying to say is… Maybe try to rekindle the rumor that you and Jungkook are dating? He doesn’t have to know it’s a date, so long as everyone else thinks that you two are.”

“I… I guess?” You sound unsure, though Namjoon admits it’s kind of a long shot to begin with, not when you wouldn’t know the last thing about being subtle. He kind of wants to throttle you, in a gentle way. It’s honestly frustrating to see you like this, and he just wishes he could… Make the problem go away.

That would be easy. If Y/N just stopped pining after Jungkook, then he could just come in and—

His thoughts skid to a halt, nearly slapping himself to keep from going down that road again. Look at him, trying to help you with your mess when even he can’t get a handle on his own emotions. What is going on inside my head, he thinks sadly to himself.

“Listen, it’ll be really easy! All you have to do is text him and say, ‘Hey, wanna go have dinner with me tomorrow?’ but bring him somewhere nicer, perhaps? Then take a photo of him all dressed up and looking boyfriend-y and post it on Instagram. I’m sure that’ll shut people up.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jungkook’s definition of ‘dressing up’ is combat boots, a hoodie, and his god-awful backpack the size of Africa. He looks like a nerd.”

“I mean, you kinda dress alike…” Namjoon mutters, and he’s thankful that you don’t hear his slight slip-up. He clears his throat. “A-anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine? I think it would be more suspicious if he wore a suit and tie or something. So long as you guys look cozy and comfy together, I’m sure people will take the hint. If worse comes to worst, I can maybe slip something to Johnny and he can retract his statement or something.”

“I hope to god that isn’t the case,” you say. Namjoon nods, before realizing you can’t even see him.

“Right. Well, I think everything should work out perfectly. Just ask him to some popular couples restaurant. Maybe the nice Italian place in Hongdae? Something more romantic, not necessarily fancy.”

There’s a pause on your end for a moment causing Namjoon to sweat a little, wondering if he might be overstepping. He does genuinely want to help you, though he hopes he isn’t actually weirding you out somehow. He’s not adept at handling love problems as much as he’s trying to appear to be, since he’s mostly using the romance novels he had read during his teen years as his sole source of reference. This is what I get for not dating for so long, Namjoon thinks, grimacing.

“Namjoon.” You break the silence, your voice quieter than before. Namjoon has to strain his ears a little, pursing his lips as he waits for your response. “Are you…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “Am I?”

Namjoon hears you hesitate, stuttering syllables over his phone speaker like you aren’t quite sure how to ask your question. “Do you remember when I asked you a few days ago if you were sure you don’t actually have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I don’t know how to say this without being weird, but I just want to say you’re great. Like,” you huff out a laugh, incredulous. “You’re just… The perfect package? You’re so kind and so sweet and it’s just? Almost mysterious how you don’t have someone special to call your own yet.”

Namjoon smiles wryly to himself, head bowed as he stares at his wrinkled bedsheets. “I suppose other people don’t feel the same way.” He tries forcing out a laugh, but it sounds a little strangled. His chest feels tight, strangely. Hopefully, you don’t notice.

“No, I highly doubt that! You’re literally the perfect guy. Any person would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.” You sound almost indignant, like you can’t imagine anyone ever thinking badly about him. He almost wants to laugh, but he tightens his hands into fists instead, digging his nails into his palms and leaving crescents in their wake.

“Well then… I guess that makes you lucky to have me, then?” Namjoon nearly slaps his hands to his mouth, a cold tingle of embarrassment mixed with fear running down his spine. Did he really just say that— “What I mean is, erm…”

“N-no, I get you.” You’re giggling, but—is he imagining it?—you sound a little nervous to his ears. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost imagine you blushing, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth. “I guess I am lucky to be your fake girlfriend, huh? Even for just a few weeks?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes out the word, guilt washing over him like waves. Here he is, feeling things that he shouldn’t be, over a girl who was never his to begin with. There are seedlings in his chest, barely anything to write home about. But he knows—a gardener can see the garden even before the flowers have bloomed. Each day he spends with you is another day they get a chance to grow, and he’s afraid he’ll soon be overrun, unable to handle the forest that is bound to erupt. “Just a few weeks,” he echoes, unable to completely hide the sadness from his words.

“I guess I am just being melodramatic about everything, huh?” you say. It takes a moment for Namjoon to even remember what the two of you had been talking about, so caught up in his thoughts that he has to pinch himself back to reality.

“Think of it as a funny story to tell your grandkids,” Namjoon says.

You laugh, and Namjoon can feel a seedling sprout its first leaf. “Yeah. Definitely. God, I can’t even begin to think about kids… Not when I can’t even ask him out on a fucking date.”

“You can do it, Y/N.” Namjoon whispers. He flops back down onto his bed, eyes half-closed as he stares at his cracked ceiling. If he breathes quietly enough, he can hear the sounds of Seoul outside his windowpane. If he stops breathing altogether, he might be able to hear you across the city, your socked feet padding towards your bed, curling up into your own blanket.

“Thank you, Namjoon. Really.”

For what? Namjoon leaves that part unspoken. “You’re welcome,” he says instead. He drops the call, feeling a little emptier than before.

[rrickgrrimes8]

Howard ~ Stiles Stilinski

"He broke up with me!"

A soft yet clearly infuriated voice bellowed from behind him. Stiles immediately span around towards the angered voice. And there she was the love his life that also happens to be in a relationship with the douchest guy he had ever laid eyes on. But now based on the words she practically screamed seconds ago that might not be so true anymore.

"What do you mean? What happened? Or shall I say what did he do this time?" Stiles muttered knowing that Mr Douche or more commonly known as Howard, (y/n)'s asshole boyfriend, had most likely been the reason for this quote unquote 'break up'.

"What do you think?" (Y/n) sassed trying her best to avoid breaking down for almost the fiftieth time since she left her boyfriends or better said now ex-boyfriends house.

"I don't know. And I'm not going to know until you tell me. So you know just spill." Stiles encouraged before sitting down in his office chair.

"Ugh." She said voicing her distress making her way over to his bed and basically body slamming it.

"Oh c'mon whatever he did couldn't possibly be that bad." (Y/n) shot him a dirty look and scoffed.

"Yeah well it is that bad."

"Are you just going to leave me in suspense or are you actually going to tell me?"

"He cheated on me." She mumbled into a pillow.

"Say that again?" Stiles said getting up from his chair and making his way to his bed.

"He cheated on me." She repeated still face down in a pillow. Stiles sat down next her and started to stroke her (y/h/c) hair.

"I still can't hear you."

"He cheated on me!" She bellowed removing her tear stained face from his pillow. Stiles jumped a little at her tone but quickly adjusted and pulled her into a hug.

"I-I thought h-he had changed b-but I-i caught him w-with h-her." She stuttered before breaking down into sobs probably staining Stiles' shirt with mascara.

"Oh god. I'm so sorry (y/n). He's such a fucking asshole."

The broken girl nodded slightly before adjusting herself so she was basically laying on top of him. The pair leaned back into the bed and Stiles tighten his grip around his best friends waist.

"You wanna hear the worst part about it?" She said after some time. Stiles nodded quickly while looking down at her hurt expression.

"I-I wanted to stay with him even after I found him fucking some random blonde bitch b-but apparently I'm not good enough to serve his needs or whatever. S-so he broke up with me." Stiles' blood boiled. He felt his hands form a fist and his jaw clench and unclench.

"H-he said that he never loved me and that the only reason why he ever dated me was because he needed a quick fuck." (Y/n) sighed wiping some tears from her puffy cheeks.

"And something else that is equally as fucked up is that I will forever see him as the man I lost my virginity too but he'll only ever think about me as some toy he used."

"Fuck. I'm so sorry (y/n). You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of it. Howard is the biggest dick in the entire fucking world and he's too brain dead to realise what's right in front of him." Stiles scoffed pulling (y/n) closer if that was even possible.

"He's too stupid to see how incredible you are. He's too fucking moronic to understand that you are the greatest thing to ever happen to not only his douchy ass but to everyone that has had the pleasure of meeting you. I love you (y/n) so fucking much. And it hurts me that he hurt you and you have no idea how much I want to beat the living shit out of him and his dickish existence."(Y/n) stifled a giggle and looked up to Stiles who know was beyond furious. Stiles moved his hands to cup her cheeks and stroked them gently.

"I mean it, you know?"

"Mean what?"

"All of it. Including the fact that I love you."

The now smiling girl blushed and looked away, "I love you too Stilinski."

"No, (y/n) you don't get it." Stiles paused sighing.

"I'm in love with you. Like romance and stuff."

"Romance and stuff?" She laughed and Stiles soon joined in.

"Yeah romance."

"I'm in love with you too, you know?" She finally said causing Stiles breathing to basically stop.

"You are?"

"Yep. Painfully in love with you."

"What about Howard?”

"Howard for one is an asshole and for another thing I only dated him to try and move on from you but I guess it didn't work."

"You guess?"

"I know."

"Can I kiss yo-?" Stiles started but was interrupted with (y/n)'s lips joining with his own.

"What did you say?" She teased.

"You're such a dork." Stiles laughed before starting to kiss her again.

"I love you." They said in unison once they finally pulled apart.

"Jinx buy me a coke." The pair exclaimed in sync.

"Will you be my girlfriend if I buy you a coke?" Stiles questioned.

"Make that two and we have a deal." Stiles laughed.

"Deal." He said shaking her petite hand.

"I love you girlfriend."

"I love you boyfriend."

[hoegrove]

Are you taking prompts? Because the cliché 21 one jumped out at me and I'd like to see what you'd do with it. Or 31.

Hey! :D I’m sorry for making you wait, but here it is ❤️ 

warning: unbeta’d

21) Blind date set up by friends

It’s stupid, Steve decided.

He was perfectly happy being single, and he’d told Robin as much– more often than he cared to remember, honestly. Robin being Robin, though, had (of course) taken matters into her own capable hands because quote-unquote ‘you, my dear friend, need to get laid, asap.’

And while Steve agreed, because yeah, it had been that long (that was another thing he didn’t wanna think about), he didn’t quite feel like getting into the whole romance-relationship-inevitable-heartbreak-thing right now. Because, again, he was perfectly happy.

Steve chewed the inside of his cheek as he sank back further into the car seat, thinking, trying to remember what Robin had told him on the phone. He was supposed to meet this guy, a photographer, or whatever, in a restaurant, and he would wait for him in a booth, wearing a white button-down shirt. She’d met him some ago (Steve supposed she’d told him where but, yeah…) and thought he was fun.

What was his name again? Steve wondered, eyeing the building. To be fair, it did look kinda nice, and he would probably make it out of this date in one piece and alive.

He caught a glimpse of his watch. Yup, he was now officially running late. Great, just great.

Steve sighed and checked his appearance in the rearview mirror (he’d made an effort, not too much but enough). He dusted off his pants and got out of the car. No turning back now, he thought as he entered the restaurant and let his gaze wander across the room. Sure enough, there was a guy fitting the description: sitting alone in a booth (check) and wearing a white button-down shirt (also, check).

Steve felt his heart rate pick up as he (slowly) made his way over to the table, taking some time to inspect his date. He was… handsome, smoking hot, actually. His hair was short and dark blond, he had just the right amount of facial hair, and damn, that tan! He was perfect.

(Steve made a mental note to send Robin a gift or maybe a fruit basket for setting him up on a date with an actual God.)

“Hey,” Steve said, stopping in front of the table. “I’m Steve.”

The guy, who apparently had been working, looked up from his papers and raised a brow. “Hi Steve…?” he said, tilting his head. He seemed to be waiting for something. An explanation probably.

“Uhm, I’m sorry I’m late.” Steve cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, I’m just not… good at this thing, you know… it’s actually my first time.” He bit his lower lip when he felt some heat rising to his cheeks. (Also, why did the guy stare at him like that? Was there something on his face?!)

“… right.” The guy leaned back and furrowed his brow as he studied Steve. “Well, I’m-”

“Hey, sorry for the wait.” A waitress appeared next to Steve. She, too, raised a brow at him (what the hell…) then shot the guy a quick smile. “The usual, Billy? And… who’s your friend?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Billy nodded. “That’s Steve, he’ll have the same.”

“Oh, okay.” Max shrugged and smiled at Steve, “Be right back.”

“Sure…” Steve blinked.

What the hell is going on here… Steve plopped down on a chair, watching his date collecting the papers he’d been working on and neatly putting them away in his briefcase.

“You’re a weird one, pretty boy,” Billy chuckled. “I like it.”

“I’m not-” wait, pretty boy? “… not weird,” Steve muttered. “What were you working on, by the way? You’re… an accountant, maybe?” (And wasn’t he supposed to be a photographer?)

“Pretty sure I’m an attorney,” Billy said, bemused.

Their food arrived a moment later, sparing Steve from answering. He must’ve gotten some things mixed up; that was the only logical explanation. (He just hoped Billy wouldn’t tell Robin because she’d never let him hear the end of it.)

“What do you do?”

“Uhm, I work at Scoops Ahoy… for now, anyway. I’m not planning to stay there forever,” Steve replied, before taking a bite from his sandwich. “You eat here often?”

Billy hummed. (Damn him for looking sexy while eating a sandwich and fries!) “The redhead is my little sister,” he shrugged and shot Steve a lopsided smirk. “Scoops, huh… that’s the one with the pretty sailor uniforms, right?

Steve smacked his lips. Shit.

“Oho, I was right!” Billy laughed, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright. It’s true.” Steve rolled his eyes. “They’re ridiculous, and I know shorts aren’t supposed to be long, duh, but… they’re just so damn short.”

“I might have to see that for myself,” Billy grinned and quickly produced a post-it from his briefcase, scribbling down some numbers before sliding it over to Steve. “I’d love to stay, honestly, but I still have some work to do. I’ll be home by 7; call me then, okay? I can’t wait to see these… damn short shorts of yours.”

Billy winked at him as he got to his feet and pointed at their plates. “I got it, by the way.”

“Oh! Uh-” Steve opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his lips when Billy leaned down to peck his cheek.

“Later, pretty boy,” he whispered.

Steve blinked, his eyes darting between their empty plates and the post-it with Billy’s number on it.

Holy. Shit.

**

“So, how did it go with Jonathan? You two hit it off?”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Jonathan? Your date?!”

“But his name’s Billy?”

“What the- NO?! His name is Jonathan!”

“Well… shit, that’s awkward.”

“STEVE!”

**

4 years later

Steve buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“It’s not that funny!”

“But it iiiis,” Max wheezed, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks.

Steve put his hands on his hips. At this point, even Billy was shaking with laughter, and Steve wanted to be mad at him, kinda, but damn, he just couldn’t find it in him. So, instead, he settled with rolling his eyes at both of them.

“I shouldn’t have told you; you two are the worst.”

“Aww, baby!” Billy chuckled and pulled Steve into his lap. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I remember it so well, and you were so cute but so weird. Coming up to my table like that, talking about your first time doing… whatever…? Stevie, it was the weirdest fucking thing ever, believe me.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah, you really don’t,” Billy said, gently pushing their noses together, grinning. “You really, really don’t.”

[skinks]

I had a REALLY intense beatles phase in my late teens and i had the hots for paul mccartney and one time i found this story where this woman said she met paul at a party in 65 and he took her home and they talked until the sun came up and then he got a call telling him to come to the studio and he started to say he had to leave and she was like "not before you fuck me" and he laughed and then he DID and he left her alone in his house after and she stole his underwear (1/2)

(which she kept for decades until her husband threw them into their muddy front yard one day in a fit of jealousy) and a teapot and it always made me absolutely FERAL with jealous horny rage and like?? just this incredulous feeling of How On Earth Did That Really Happen and anyway bill hader’s dumpster mattress one night stand story is my new version of that (2/2)

The fucking journey this just took me on, holy shit. Did she at least get to keep the teapot?

I love that you had an intense teenage horny phase for a Beatle, I had one for Bob Dylan and I remember watching one of his electric era tour documentaries and being HORRIBLY jealous of the 60s girls hanging around outside his hotel... anyway that’s besides the point

I UNDERSTAND!!!!! THE MATTRESS STORY HAUNTS ME.... Bhader knows what he’s doing, he can try to couch it in as much self-deprecating oh-I’m-just-an-awkward-nerd fronting as he likes but he KNOWS what he’s doing and that woman knew it too. You ever notice how it’s the most competent ones who don’t feel the need to loudly prove themselves by being anything other than humble?? What did he SAY in that club! “It was going well,” he says, what does that MEAN, BILL, what did he fuckjfdkjcnnfkcning do that convinced this woman to leave the club, go to her place, lift a bed onto a car, go to HIS place and move furniture when she was literally moving to a new city the next day all so sHE COULD FUCK HIMMMM HOW IS HIS GAME THAT GOOD I FEEL LIKE A CHARACTER IN AN EDGAR ALLEN POE STORY BEING SLOWLY DRIVEN MAD BY THIS UNANSWERED MYSTERY

Ok sorry, I’m back. This is making me want to read a fic where (before they get together) Eddie watches an old interview of Richie telling the mattress story and he’s a seething ball of jealousy too. Then Richie comes out, he and Eddie sort their shit and get together, and one day Eddie laughingly comments that he had no reason to be jealous after all since Richie was obviously making the story up.

Richie looks at him weirdly. “I didn’t make up—that story did actually happen, Eds, I only changed it so people thought I went home with a chick.”

They are lying in bed. Eddie’s eye starts twitching. “Pardon?”

“Yeah?” Richie stretches, draping his right arm over his own head to scratch his left ear. Eddie will not be distracted by his chest right now, what the fuck. Richie squints at the ceiling. “I think his name was... Marco, or something. At least, that’s the name he gave to quote unquote Chris.”

“Marco, okay. Huh.”

“I wanted to be Lance or something cool, but my friend said I inhabited Chris better, I dunno. I didn’t even tell him why I needed a fake name, he was just like, big into method.”

“Yeah, mhmm.” Eddie sits up, nodding. He can’t stop nodding. His head feels like a champagne cork fizzing at the top of his spine. “So you, you uh—you were such a fucking player in your plaid and your baggy jeans that, that, that were the only things you even owned back then, Rich—don’t try to deny, it I’ve seen the pictures—that you convinced some guy who was moving town the next fucking day—”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot upwards. It makes his eyes look rounder, more delighted. “Convinced? Eddie—”

Eddie can’t stop, twisting the sheets in his hands til his knuckles go white. “Yes, convinced, you convinced him to go pick up some dirty mattress right off the street with a complete stranger even though you always make such a big deal about how awkward and nervous and repressed you were, you still, you still—”

“I was probably on molly or something at the time, man.” Richie’s beaming up at him. He pokes Eddie in the arm. Eddie feels how tense the muscle is, and fights to relax. “I’m kidding, at worst it was just a little tipsy driving. A little Wacky Races. Just call me Dick Bastardly.” Richie grins at his own dumbass joke, poking Eddie some more. “And it wasn’t just the mattress by the way, it was the whole bed. That’s a key detail. Headboard and everything.”

“The headboard?!” Eddie tries not to yell, but it comes out louder than he means to anyway. More of a shriek, embarrassingly. He lurches around in place to glare at their own flat bar of wood behind them. He holds onto that thing! It supports him, even when Richie’s fucking him into the wall!

Betrayal is neverending today, apparently. Eddie turns his glare onto Richie, who is laughing. “Stop laughing!”

“Your face,” Richie gasps. He covers his own face, then changes tack and yanks Eddie down over him to cackle into his flaming-hot throat. “What’s the problem! You’re acting like this is the same fucking bed, oh my god, you think I haven’t at least changed my mattress since I lived like a—like a Beavis and Butthead parody in Westwood, fifteen years ago?”

Eddie squirms miserably. Not even Richie’s broad nakedness against his can salvage this, he’s well and truly destroyed their sweet afterglow with his stupid overreaction. Feels like being fifteen again, ruining clubhouse hangouts with his snappy sulking as soon as Richie mentioned some girl at school. “No! No, obviously fucking not, just. I dunno.”

He doesn’t really deserve the gentle tease in Richie’s voice. “What don’t you know?”

“I don’t know!”

And that’s the part he hates most.

“Okay, okay. I think I do. Jesus, you’re actually jealous,” Richie breathes. He bites his lip, the way he does when he’s so happy about something he’s making a real effort not to talk over it. He’s still a little sweaty and pink from their Friday night activities, bedraggled hair and no glasses. The expression always scrunches his left eye into a full squint, something Eddie finds so helplessly appealing he can’t imagine what it’s like to watch that interview and not feel jealous.

Eddie grunts, shrugs as best he can under Richie’s heavy hug. Fucking Marco.

Richie’s hand is firm on the back of his neck. There’s pressure from his thumb at one point of Eddie’s jaw, the soft part between ear and bone that has him gulping open for Richie’s low murmur, “Eddie baby, don’t be jealous.” Their mouths meet and Eddie sighs into the slick warmth of it, feeling grateful and abashed and idiotic all at once.

They separate with a little snick of spit. Richie lids his eyes open just a touch, looking drowsy with affection. Eddie lowers his forehead to Richie’s shoulder and speaks to his collarbone. “I just—I hate it when you act like people are just doing you a favor for, for liking your shit or fucking going home with you when clearly it was—you’re fucking hot, Rich, and, and sexy when you’re not trying to be, and you were hot back then too, but you still act like it was a miracle anyone wanted to even touch you when I—I always would’ve picked the stupid dirty bed up off the street too. For you. And I wouldn’t’ve moved town the day after. So.”

Richie doesn’t speak for a moment. There is a cloud above their shared, clean bed, implicit with shared memory of all the times they dirtied each other’s sheets with grass stains and grubby feet, chip crumbs and even tears, just once, just before Eddie really did move town and forgot all the things he cared about so much more than he ever cared about getting sick.

He would never leave again though, is his point. Richie always seems to know what he means before Eddie does. He tries to think it loud enough, brings his hand up blindly to Richie’s face and strokes back his hair, not because Richie is a mind reader, but because he knows what it means that Eddie has never wanted to touch someone else like this.

Eddie’s spine then, curving under Richie’s knuckles like brushing a shiver along a set of wind chimes. His hand lands on Eddie’s tailbone, an X marks the spot that still throbs with loosened heat and pleasure from his orgasm. Lying on your front is bad for your posture.

I’m not lying on my front, Eddie thinks, with a little of the vicious defiance he doles out to that cloying voice sometimes, the one that tries to ruin quiet moments with its fretting. I’m lying on Richie’s. He’s good for my posture. He’s gonna snap my spine back into place and this time I’ll let him touch me.

Richie presses their temples together, small-voiced. “I guess... I find most of the flattery shit hard to believe. I didn’t like myself or the stuff I was making, so I’d automatically assume they were lying, y’know? If I agree it implies I believe them, which makes me feel like some giant, arrogant dick—don’t say it.” He pats Eddie on the ass. “But, on the other hand, if I think I’m somehow important enough for people to lie to, that’s kind of an arrogant dick move too.”

Eddie pushes up to eyeball him. “Even with sex? That’s so fucking dumb.”

This second ass-pat is harder, more of a stinging smack. Richie’s guarded look coils into a grin again at Eddie’s bared-teeth hiss. “I never said it wasn’t.”

“Well, I mean, what do you think it meant that fucking Marco—” Richie snorts at the projectile venom burning acidic holes through Eddie’s voice, “—was clearly willing to catch fleas or goddamn tetanus just to fuck you? What about me? You think I’m pretending it’s good just to encourage your weird, unnecessary inferiority thing? ”

“No, you’re right,” Richie laughs. His snorts have bubbled into full-blown giggles now as he squints down at the mess between their stomachs. “That’s pretty hard evidence you’re providing there, Eds.”

Getting harder too, rubbed up against the soft crease of Richie’s hip. Eddie can feel the lingering red throb of heat on his ass, like closing his eyes and still catching the gold-coin flash of the sun branded on the inside of his eyelids. Richie digs his blunt nails into the stung tenderness of his skin and gently pulls Eddie’s asscheeks open. He feels Richie’s quickened breathing against his wet mouth, and wonders how to ask for another spank in a way that isn’t gonna make him want to enter witness protection afterwards.

“I can’t believe you were jealous, you’re the last guy in the world who needs to be jealous,” Richie moans. Eddie feels the vibration of it on his tongue, now sucking on the knot of Richie’s adam’s apple. “Wait, can you really get tetanus from abandoned street beds?”

“Ugh!” Eddie bites him there and pulls off slowly, sucking so the stubbled skin of Richie’s strong throat is released from his mouth’s suction with a wet pop. Richie’s hips flex against him. “I almost wish this was the same fucking bed just so I had something to throw out into the yard!”

“O-ooh, how telenovela of you, I like it.”

Oh Christ, Eddie has to put some kinda stop to this before Richie starts speaking Spanish. He needs to last. He needs to beat Marco. “I’ll throw you out with it,” he says, too breathy and honest for anywhere else but here. “Trashmouth. Sweetheart.”

Richie’s face is flushed, eyes dark and desperate. He grips at Eddie’s ribs so hard Eddie feels them bending. “Dumpster diver.”

Eddie rolls his hips down, plants his palms on either side of Richie, shoves them under the pillows. He braces his elbows hard into Richie’s shoulders and grinds their sweaty foreheads together, but whatever aggression there is within him is softened by his catapulting heartbeat, harmonising with his own laughter. With Richie’s, always.

“Nah, ‘fraid the only thing left to remember that half-night stand with Marco is, well.” Richie looks down between them again, eyes almost crossed. “It’s me. My dick, more specifically.”

Eddie can feel as much. Another wave of possessiveness froths through him, crackling in the pockets of his joints, feels like cartoon steam whistling out his ears. “It better not be half-standing because it remembers anything about fucking Marco,” he snarls.

Richie raises his hands in a down boy gesture. It shifts his arms and shoulders in the way that sometimes makes Eddie wish he were a door, just so Richie could ram him open, and so he pins Richie’s wrists to the bed instead.

“Please don’t throw my dick out into the yard, babe,” Richie says.

“Gonna give you something to remember this fucking bed by,” Eddie says, and slides down Richie’s body to do just that.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #22: Lake Town Sunrise

Words: ca. 3,800 Setting: modern Lemon: no CW: loneliness, moving, high schoolers, mild angst, language

If anyone had asked Anna what she felt about moving halfway across the country to a tiny place called Lake Town during the fourth month of her senior year, well — she would have lied and said she didn’t mind at all. But no one had, so she didn’t have to lie to anyone. Not even herself. And she hated the move.

Anna had no choice in the matter but the seventeen year-old felt like she had no right to complain to her beloved grandfather, who had sacrificed his entire retirement life to raise her from an infant. If he wanted to move, there should be nothing holding him back. But Anna had to admit she wished he’d waited a few more months. Just a few more months and Anna would graduate and be out of his hair. On her own.

Until then, Anna was adjusting to an entirely new life in a new place with new people and new schoolwork. The piles of catch-up homework were her worst nightmare. She didn’t like to have bad grades so she was devoting all of her energy to her classes in an effort not to disappoint herself. As a result, she hadn’t had the time or energy to make a single friend from November to March, and as a social person, the loss of friendship was starting to drive her crazy. Nobody back home even returned her texts anymore; they’d completely moved on and Anna was stuck by herself in a town with only a lake she had yet to even visit, just trying to keep her head above water.

Just because she hadn’t made any friends, however, didn’t mean she hadn’t picked out a couple people from her classes she’d love to be friends with. One girl stood out to her in particular. She was in Anna’s writing class and they often paired up when the teacher required it. Her name was Elsa and she had the prettiest long white-blonde hair Anna had ever seen; usually worn in a braid or a ponytail. Every once in a while she let it loose in gentle waves; those were Anna’s favorite days.

Elsa was a quiet student, never talking with anyone around her. Anna noticed she usually had a sketchbook open and a pencil rhythmically scratching away. She’d give anything to know what Elsa was always drawing, but she couldn’t stare too long or the blonde would eventually glance up and catch her eye, causing them both to look away quickly, blushing.

Yesterday Elsa hadn’t come to school and Anna had found herself rather disappointed. She always looked forward to English class but without the other girl to pay attention to, Anna had stared at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. Was Elsa the only reason she enjoyed this class? They had barely had a complete conversation beyond relevant English topics. Still, Anna found herself begging the fates to let her see that sketchbook when she walked through the door to room 37b today.

A sigh of relief escaped her lungs when Anna rounded the corner and saw Elsa at the desk beside hers, legs crossed, focused entirely on the pencil meeting her paper. Anna approached; Elsa looked up and smiled when she saw who was there.

“Hi, Anna!”

“Hey,” she smiled back. “I missed you yesterday.”

“Oh yeah,” blonde eyebrows softened, “My grandma was a bit under the weather so I had to stay home and take care of her.”

“You live with your grandma?” Anna asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, it’s just the two of us.”

“Me too,” Anna encouraged, “but with my grandfather.”

“Oh wow! I don’t think I’ve met anyone else here in the same boat.” Elsa closed her sketchbook as Anna took a seat.

“It’s definitely a unique experience,” Anna laughed. She watched the fluorescent lights glimmer in Elsa’s eyes when she nodded in response.

Anna’s heart raced quietly while she pulled out her English notebook and folder. There were still a few minutes left before class began. Maybe she could think of something else to say before the chance was gone. But it was Elsa who took another stab at conversation first.

“What are you doing for spring break?” Elsa asked.

“Oh!” Anna smiled, excited. “Ever since moving here in the winter I’ve been drowning in either snow or catch-up homework, so I’m finally gonna take a break in the nice weather and see what this famous lake is all about! I’ve never even gotten…” she trailed off at the sight of Elsa’s grimace. “What?”

“Sorry,” Elsa said, “it’s just - you don’t want to be anywhere near the lake during spring break.”

“I mean I know it’s gonna be crowded—”

“You don’t understand. That lake is the only interesting thing in a 200 mile radius. Everybody in the entire state who can’t afford a real vacation will be swarming the town - especially the lake. All fucking week.”

“Oh.” Anna sighed, crestfallen. She had hoped to spend some time with her new classmates at the lake; they were still strangers to her after all this time. She had thought maybe she’d even make a friend there. But not now. “Wait, where does everybody go then? If the whole town gets taken over?”

“Well, some have to stick around to run the shops and everything, but most everybody scatters off to vacations of their own.” Elsa explained.

“And what about you?”

“My grandma doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll be around.”

Class started abruptly and the conversation was cut off. Anna didn’t hear a word of the lecture, as her thoughts swirled around her head. Thoughts of the forbidden lake, of people who got to experience “real” vacations, but mostly of Elsa. Elsa had talked to her for so long today - and seemed to enjoy it! Anna felt light and airy, like something was trying to lift her heart right out of her chest. Was this what it felt like, to be on the verge of friendship? Anna hadn’t even experienced these butterflies the entire time she dated Kristoff back home.

Wait. Did she have feeling-feelings for Elsa? Was that - was that allowed? Would Elsa ever —

The bell rang.

Everybody scrambled to pack their backpacks up, except for Elsa and Anna. Elsa jotted something down on a corner of a page in her sketchbook, then tore it out as Anna watched.

“Here,” Elsa held out the ripped corner. “That’s my address. Meet me there after school today when break starts. I wanna show you something.”

Anna took the paper and watched dumbfounded as Elsa left the classroom. Shaking her head out, she looked at the address. It was a five minute walk from her house.

When she flipped the piece of paper over in her hand, the other side (probably unintentionally) had part of a sketch. It was a person, cut off just below the shoulders. Anna stared in disbelief at her own freckled face smiling up at herself in graphite.

***********************************

Anna ran all the way home, making her 12 minute walk in 8 minutes. She found her grandpa sitting in his chair, working on a puzzle. Huffing and puffing from exertion, Anna made her way through the living room to the hallway, saying, “Hey, Gramps,” as she passed.

“In a hurry, child?” the old man replied, glancing up briefly from his puzzle.

“I made a friend, I’ll explain in a minute!” Anna called out as she jogged farther into the house.

She reached her room and threw her backpack to the ground before stripping off her clothes and staring at her closet, hoping something would jump out at her. Her chest heaved as the cool air helped dry the clammy skin of her torso. What was she supposed to wear to Elsa’s house for the first time, where she was going to quote-unquote ‘show her something?’ Was it something casual, something fancy? After a moment she settled on a cute tie dye t-shirt and black jeans. It was spring break after all, she should be able to wear something comfortable.

Anna glanced at her signature twin braids in the mirror. She pulled the hair ties out and ran her fingers through the locks, letting it fall apart into structured waves. Yep, that’s cute! she thought.

On her way back out through the house, Anna told her grandfather she was going to a new friend’s house, and that he should order a pizza for dinner. He had no complaints, but reminded her to be home by 10. Soon, Anna was out the door, headed in the direction of Elsa’s house.

This time, she walked deliberately slowly. Anna didn’t want to be out of breath when she got to Elsa’s house, nor did she want to get there earlier than Elsa might expect. Anna had rushed herself rather hard ever since that final bell rang, but now as she passed houses she had never seen and heard birds enjoying the spring afternoon, she had a few moments to think about what had happened earlier. Precisely: the conversation, the realization, and the invitation.

Just yesterday she was silently disappointed that Elsa was missing from class, and now they’d had a nice interaction, Anna thought she might have a crush on her, and Elsa invited her over to her house! It was all so sudden and exciting. Confusing, but exciting.

Do I really like her? Anna wondered. Well, comparing her feelings to what she used to feel around Kristoff was pretty telling. She thought Kristoff was cute and nice, and she liked how it made her feel when he told her how much he liked her. But maybe that wasn’t what love feels like. Maybe it’s more like what Elsa makes her feel… comfort, acceptance, longing, excitement. Not to mention how attractive she was, with her gorgeous hair and perfect face and shining blue eyes, bluer than anything Anna had ever seen…

Fuck.

Anna might have a little bit of a crush on Elsa. In fact, it might be huge.

But could Elsa ever feel the same way? They were both girls, so Anna felt it was unlikely Elsa had ever had a similar thought toward Anna. However, Anna felt the piece of paper in her pocket. The one with the drawing on the back. Why did Elsa draw her? Was this the only one and it happened to be on the exact page and corner she tore out? Or did she sketch Anna a lot?… Is that why sometimes when Anna was watching her draw, Elsa would glance up directly at her — because Anna was actually her subject?

She sighed. There was so much to think about all of a sudden. She almost wanted to go back to obsessing over her homework and ignoring everybody. But then she saw a mailbox with Elsa’s address and her heart rate took off. That was a normal reaction, right? Totally, for sure.

Anna wiped her clammy palms off on her jeans and consciously corrected her posture as she approached Elsa’s house. It was painted a nice sky blue, with navy shutters. There was an old car in the driveway, which disappeared past the other side of the building. In the front yard was a big pine tree looming over the house, at least three times as tall. As she approached, Anna noticed Elsa sitting at the base of the pine tree, under its canopy created by trimming the lowest branches. She waved from her shady spot when she noticed Anna.

“Hey!” Elsa called out. “You came!”

Anna jogged the last few steps and ducked under the branches to join Elsa’s shady dwelling. “Of course I came!” She grinned widely and plopped down across from the blonde, folding her legs into a criss-cross style. “This tree is amazing,” she remarked, looking up through its branches, barely able to see the bright sky filtering through them.

“Thanks,” Elsa patted the trunk she was leaning her back against, “she’s a good one. Great for quiet afternoons. But this isn’t what I wanted to show you.” She stood up, grabbing her sketchbook and brushing off her pants. “Follow me?”

We made our way across the lawn, past the car, and followed the driveway around the side of Elsa’s house. The drive stretched back past half of the small backyard, all the way to a strangely tall garage. It was wide enough for one car but was more like two-stories tall. Maybe a past owner had it built especially for a big vehicle or boat.

We stopped at the regular service door beside the big garage door and Elsa grabbed the handle, her fingers lightly trembling as they reached out. She was nervous to show Anna whatever was inside. Anna was racking her brain trying to guess what it could be. A boat for the lake they can’t go to? A weirdly tall truck? A collection of four wheelers? A quiet place perfect to trick Anna into a serial killer’s lair? No, of course not that one, jeez.

The door opened, the lights flicked on.

Anna’s jaw dropped.

She was wrong about everything.

Inside the garage, the entire space was transformed into a secret hideout of some kind. It like walking into a crazy treehouse but within the walls of a garage. There was a structure made out of lumber, expertly crafted together to form multiple separate areas as well as an elaborate winding staircase/ramp combo that wrapped around the walls, leading up to a partial upper level. All of the woodwork was bright blue with handpainted details which gave it all a realistic ice effect. Where the ceiling was visible there were tinted skylights letting in natural light, bathing everything in a blue glow.

To furnish the hangout, Elsa had a desk she clearly used for homework and art, a futon, multiple bean bag chairs, and who knows what else on the upper level. Anna reached out and laid a hand on Elsa’s arm. “This…” she shook her head out in disbelief. “This is not what I was expecting you to show me - but it’s incredible!”

“Thank you,” Elsa blushed slightly as she dipped her head down in gratitude.

“How did you do this? You made it all yourself?” Anna asked, touching the glossy surface of the painted wood beam closest to her.

Elsa scratched her neck, “Well, when I was little I always dreamed of having an ice palace, a place to get away from my daily life. I love my grandmother but sometimes I just needed to be a kid. As soon as we learned shop in middle school, I knew what I had to do. I asked permission to upgrade the garage and beyond that, my grandma doesn’t know or care what I do out here. She’s never seen it.” Elsa laughed. “So I’ve just been creating this space for myself over the years. I finally finished it last year with the paint job and everything. Oh, and I made the skylights myself by cutting holes through the roof and installing windows, weatherproofing the cracks. That was the hardest part of the whole garage.”

Anna smiled in disbelief. This quiet girl had a whole universe of creativity inside her head, and when the subject was something she was passionate about, she wasn’t quiet at all! Anna had never really been friends with an introvert, and apparently she had been missing out big time.

“You are…. so cool,” Anna finally said. “This is amazing!” She spun around, walking farther into the ice palace, looking up as the homemade skylights twisted in circles. After a minute, she got too dizzy and fell, landing on a beanbag with a thwump.

Elsa laughed and joined her on the nearest beanbag. “You really think so?”

“Of course!” Anna said.

“You’re the only person who I’ve ever invited here. The only one who’s ever seen it.”

“Wait, what?” Anna’s thoughts halted. “How is that possible?”

Elsa rubbed her arm anxiously, “Well, I… I don’t really have many friends. Or any friends, really. This place is my safe space, where I can get away from the world and truly be myself. Here I can read and create and relax, and nobody is here to judge me. I’ve never minded being alone.”

“So,” Anna tilted her head, trying not to come off as rude. “Then why did you invite me?”

Elsa’s cheeks bloomed with pink. “You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to invite.”

Anna’s expression softened as Elsa continued, “I feel safe around you. Even though we didn’t talk much before today, I’ve wanted to get to know you ever since you first walked into my English class.”

Anna’s heart soared. “I’ve felt the same way about you. I lost all my friends when I moved… and as an extrovert, I struggled with that a lot. But I had so much homework to catch up on, I couldn’t find the time to reach out to anyone here. So instead I cut myself off from making friends and buried myself in class work. But the whole time I’ve lived here, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to you. I wished and wished and wished that you would be my friend, but it felt like I waited too long and I’d be stuck alone for the rest of high school.”

Elsa held her hand out for Anna to take. It felt so smooth against Anna’s palm, she never would’ve believed the hard work these hands had been through if she didn’t see it with her own eyes.

“Well I think it’s safe to say we’re friends now,” Elsa said.

“Absolutely,” Anna agreed. “Good luck getting rid of me at this point!”

*******************************

A couple of hours passed before Anna even checked the time. “I should probably be getting home,” she sighed. “Could we do this again tomorrow?”

Elsa nodded enthusiastically. “I’d like that. And actually, I was wrong before, about the lake. Everybody else’s spring break doesn’t start until Monday so the droves won’t be hitting town until tomorrow night. The lake would be pretty deserted if we got there really early.”

“Yes!” Anna made a fist.

“I mean like sunrise-early.”

“Yikes. Okay. No problem!” Anna wasn’t a morning person, especially when she had the choice to sleep in, but this was a great exception.

A sunrise on the lake with her new favorite person? Sounded like a dream come true!

Anna didn’t even dream that night. She woke a minute before her 3:30 alarm and sprang out of bed. Flipping on lamps here and there, she went to the kitchen to prepare some food. She made an egg scramble which her grandpa could reheat when he woke up, and then she made more sandwiches than she’d ever made at one time, leaving two in the fridge for his lunch, and taking the rest with her to share with Elsa later.

When her lunch pack was filled with ice and sandwiches, Anna went back to her room to write a note for her grandpa and change into her swimsuit. She didn’t know if there would be any getting in the water at this lake on an early spring morning, but she was ready just in case. Then she put a light green t-shirt on over the swimwear, along with dark blue jogging pants and a black and white tie dye hoodie. She probably clashed but Anna preferred to wear lots of different colors, not caring if they went well together.

A bit of a long walk later, and Anna arrived at the street corner Elsa told her about. It was right at the lake. Anna set her lunch bag on the pavement and leaned against the street lamp pole. She felt in her pocket for that ripped piece of sketchbook paper, gently running her fingers over its edges. Before long, Elsa approached in the dim lamp light.

“Good morning,” Elsa said in a quiet voice. The way it sounded so …intimate made Anna’s stomach butterflies go for a loop.

“Morning, Elsa.” Anna smiled, picking up her bag. Elsa led the way toward the lake where they found an empty pier. They walked all the way to the end and sat on the edge, dangling their legs over the dark lake. It was about a ten foot drop beneath their feet to the surface of the water, where it gently rippled just for them.

They sat quietly in the darkness until the faintest tinge of light started appearing along the horizon. It was a gentle pale blue, barely discernible from the rest of the sky at first. Slowly, it gained more light, moment by moment. Soon the light blue was joined by pale yellow, then peach. When a brilliant pink appeared on wispy clouds, Anna couldn’t help but feel it was a metaphor for how quickly and beautifully her friendship with Elsa had bloomed.

Her feelings for Elsa developed like a brightening dawn.

It was light enough now to see each other if either girl dared to turn. Anna felt for the paper in her pocket and slowly pulled it out.

“Elsa?”

“Hmm?” Elsa answered, still staring at the pink clouds, now turning orange.

“Do you draw everyone in class?”

“What do you mean?” Elsa asked.

“When you’re sketching in your notebook, do you draw our classmates? Or anyone in particular?” Anna’s heart was beating so loud she was sure Elsa could hear it.

“Oh. Um,” Elsa hesitated. “I don’t draw a lot of different people. Only the ones who mean something to me.” She glanced sideways at Anna. “Why?”

“This piece of paper you wrote your address on…” Anna held it in her hand. Elsa’s head turned to look. “I couldn’t help but notice this drawing on the back. You probably didn’t mean—”

Elsa swiftly took the paper from Anna’s fingertips and gasped when she saw the sketch. “Anna, I can explain.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Anna placed a calming hand on Elsa’s. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I don’t?” Elsa asked, her face visibly red even in the low light.

“No.” Anna said. “I was just making sure I understood how you felt, before…” she trailed off.

“Before?”

Anna reached up and touched Elsa’s chin with her thumb and first finger. She gently tilted Elsa’s head as her eyes asked an important question. Elsa’s breath shook as she nodded slightly. Anna leaned in sweetly, but with purpose, as she let her lips softly brush against Elsa’s. They both let out a nervous breath before closing in again. This time, Anna could really feel the connection between their lips. Anna’s eyes fluttered closed.

She no longer needed to see the picture perfect sunrise, for the colors bursting in her heart and behind her eyelids were even more beautiful.