#u need a tag wow

[cowboythewizard726]

BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALIN!!! BLOOD SOAKED FALINNNNNNNNNNN!!!

[viviaj]

a man who just wants you and needs you and would do anything for you (gone sexual)

// this is a self-insert.. it can be abt anyone u want ;3 !! but if u need some help: atsumu, kaeya, zoro, wriothesely, shoyo.. literally anyone that’s funny but also ;) KUROO

he’s been making you laugh all night. lighthearted conversation not slowing down, and countless attempts at getting you to roll your eyes at him. he looks good, too, like, casual good. black sweats and freshly washed hair.

he’s sitting on your bed, feet flat on the floor looking up at you as you go about your business. he’s a strange guy, he says something unfunny, yet its hard to not laugh. its cringey and genuinely stupid, yet comforting all the same.

you’ve been parading some new clothes on for yourself, styling pieces for him to nod and approve at. the way you move around is everything to him. he could just watch you, permanently. he wouldn’t need his phone, or a book or a computer. just you.

and that has him hard in his pants. just watching you do your thing, your glow from previously being out, with friends and at the shops— it didn’t matter.

“hey,”

“yeah?” you cheerily turn toward him, eager to keep conversation alive.

“come here,” his smile has you complicit, walking over to him, “wanna sit?”

you look down.

eyes fluttering between how hard he is and his eyes— at how fast this all changed. he’s so pretty and you just want to nod and nod and nod to him, that you’d do anything with him.

“yes, i do. yeah, okay. i don’t wanna hurt you, though, so—”

“here,” he interrupts you, guiding your hips down, “yeah, just like that,” the genuine smile on his face gives you courage.

neither of you dare to move once you’re fully sat, no one shifting or grinding, just resting on each other.

“do you feel what you do to me?” he almost laughs in exasperation. everything he says is so genuine, “i’m hard just thinking about you.” the honesty hurts.

the man underneath you is everything. he’s so sincere now that he’s not trying to make you laugh, not trying to make you roll your eyes at the stupid things he says. he doesn’t have to work for your attention.

“can i move?” you whisper, his cock so painfully there. your eyes don’t move from his.

“yeah, just— shit,” he hisses, “fuck. slowly. just rock back and forth a little.”

and it’s so easy. it’s so easy and he’s looking right at you and he’s telling you how good it feels, and god, don’t you know how long he’s wanted this for?

“is this okay? i mean, does it feel good? am i doing—”

“perfect,” he reaches a hand up to the back of your head, “it’s perfect.” his large hand pulls your head down to his, face to face with what you’re doing, who you’re doing.

he looks down at your lips, breaking the unbreakable eye contact you’d had so far, and presses his lips against yours. your hips stutter here and there, unused to the motion, but desperate to keep it there.

“let me take care of you.”

you nod.

his hands are polite on your hips, firm in how he handles you. he slides himself to the head of the bed, patting right between his open legs.

“saved you a spot,” he grins. and you remember this is the same man from an hour ago. you roll your eyes, yet sit right there, your back pressed to his chest, “this okay?” he says with his hands so close to your waistband. you nod again.

“you’re very compliant with me.” he says, and there’s nothing— no words, that could justify that. because he’s right, “i almost expected you to laugh at me more.” his slender fingers dip beneath your clothes, and he’s kind of an asshole, but he’s touching you so nicely.

“oh,” you grab onto his wrist, “feels good,” he nods against your skin.

his other hand just wants to feel you. the outside of your neck, the crease in your elbow. the curve of your ear, the shape of your breasts.

it’s obsessive.

your head drops onto his shoulder, your eyes turning to meet his and you realise he’s been looking at you this whole time. you avert your eyes, a slight red brushing your cheeks.

he’s still looking at you with a slight smile on his face. “you shy?”

“a little,” you reply for integrity’s sake.

he absolutely beams.

all the while you can feel him right against your back. he’s right there. just playing with you, hooked on every whimper and moan and twitch he can get from you.

“i’ve been waiting so long for you, you have no idea.” his sincerity is overwhelming and so are his fingers.

you nod. because that’s all you can do. “another, another. please.” you pant towards him.

“another what? tell me what you want.” he’s smiling, you can feel it.

“finger. please. can i, please?” oh, he melts. your voice softening for him and your body tense against his cock, he feels like he’s going to cum in his pants. he might.

“of course. whatever you want.” his free hand glides against your jaw, fingers grazing the side of your neck. he needs to kiss it, and bite it and leave something there. maybe as proof that this is real, that he has you how he wants you. feeling good.

so he does, he laps at your neck slowly. his fingers don’t stop fingering you, but he raises his thumb to rub at you. and that has you really going. twitching back into him, jumpy moans and sweet noises coming from you, uncontrollably it seems. your hand goes to cover your mouth.

“don’t ruin a good thing, baby. move your hand. let me hear you.”

“it’s embarrassing,” you stutter out.

he grins again, teeth grazing your neck. “i know. it’s okay.”

and it’s when you cum, with hips bucking and hand gripped onto his wrist, that he doesn’t stop.

tears well up in your eyes, “i came. i came, i came,” you chant, maybe he didn’t notice, maybe he didn’t realise.

“i know.” there’s no emotion in his voice, he’s so concentrated, so invested in what he can get out of you. what sounds, what actions, the way you move. it’s like he’s on a timer, he only has so much of it with you and he needs to milk it to its fullest.

“it’s sensitive, please. it’s too much,” tears well up in your eyes.

“you gonna cry?”

you nod against him.

“i’m sorry,” he presses his lips to where he’s bitten your neck, “brave girl. tough it out.”

what he says leaves you with no choice. something clicks in your head and you nod over and over again.

you whine and cry, blubbering words and sentences that don’t make sense. sensing that you’re going to cum again, you push against his fingers.

“don’t. stay still.”

“i can’t,” you whine, “i can’t again.”

“you can.” he smiles. he smiles and smiles and all you can do is twitch and cry out.

and when you cum for him again, pleasure overwhelming every part of you, he flips you onto your back, strong hands gently laying you back.

“my turn,” his grin melts as he presses the head of his cock into you. he preens at the feeling of you hugging him, “oh fuck. feels perfect. you’re perfect.”

your eyes scrunch closed, blubbering like someone who’s forgotten speech.

he’s sliding in and out of you, wanting to feel every single centimetre of himself in you. it’s heaven and he can’t believe that this will have to end.

your head starts to hit the soft headboard, tears still pilled up from the overstimulation on your body.

and then it just stops. he pulls out of you.

“back to you baby,” his hands slide against you once more, and you know it’s going to end with you sobbing against him.

a fun night.

[fatuismooches]

At the beginning of your relationship with Dottore, there had been numerous times when he had tried to leave you, or rather, attempt to force you to leave him in the Akademiya. Ignoring you, snapping at you... most notably literally kicking you out of the dorm (to waking up and nearly stepping on you, as you had decided to knock out right at the door.) Merely because he still had difficulty believing he was loved by you, despite having known you for years. It took much time but, eventually, your feelings finally clicked in that genius head of his.

However, uncharacteristically enough, there was one time you debated on whether you should leave Zandik. Only one time. And he had found out. If only you had been more careful.

It happened during the later stage of your illness when your ability to do many basic tasks had been stripped from you, leaving you reliant on Zandik for many things. You felt very guilty, for making him so do much work for both himself and you, but there wasn't much you could do about it, being the way you were now. Did you tell your lover about this? No, of course not.

But today, today would just be another regular day of what you had accepted to be your new life. However, you had noticed in the morning he seemed rather irritated, but you had no chance to ask him about it since he had to leave for class. You wondered what that was all about. (You, somewhere in the depths of your mind thought. You were continuously being a burden on the knowledge-driven scholar, no wonder he'd be irritated.)

When he returned to the dorm, you could tell that the foul mood still remained. Though, you could not understand what had caused it. He was perfectly fine last night, something must have happened after you fell asleep... As you watched him, the words "welcome home" could not seem to come out as they usually did, especially when he had not even acknowledged you yet, only emptying his bag with all of his books and other tools. You swallowed nervously, wondering how you were going to go about this when he spoke.

"Where?"

"Huh?"

"Where do you plan to go?" You were understandably confused by this seemingly random question.

"Um... nowhere?" A nervous smile made its way to your face, as Zandik only gave you a blank look, before carefully unfolding a piece of paper, and reading it over once more, no emotion on his face. Which, was already quite alarming for you, because Zandik was the kind of person who always had a hint of annoyance written on his face. He then turned the paper to face you and you squinted, reading the contents.

Oh. You instantly recognized what it was. It was a form that one had to fill out if they wanted to move out of the Akademiya's dorms.

When you said you felt guilty for everything, you meant it. Meant it to the point you worried if you were still good enough for him, if you had become annoying, a bumbling nuisance that had become more of a chore rather than a partner. It worried you, and you couldn't help but think about it. What if you were right? What if he did feel all of those things? Then maybe, maybe you should relieve him of this burden. You. Then, he could continue to pursue his goals, without the added hindrance of taking care of you.

It wasn't something you were set on yet, more like something you mulled over in your head. But you had filled out the potential moving out form tentatively just in case you decided to go through with it. Ah, you probably had shoved it in your bag along with your many missing assignments, and Zandik must have found it after trying to check your homework... But now, your lover was staring holes into you, expecting an answer.

"Well, I- I didn't mean it. It was... just in case," you were just spewing words at this point because you really had no defense. After all, how do you explain to your roommate of many years that you were going to move out and disappear without telling him?

"Just in case," the scholar repeats. "Just in case..." And then Zandik laughs. At what? You're not sure, because you've only seen him laugh at other people's foolishness, or in scorn and bitterness. It's a bit unsettling, seeing him act this way, but you have no time to think about it before the paper is torn right in half twice and then abandoned in the trash bin.

"No." Well... alright then.

"Za-"

"No, no no no. How utterly absurd. Ridiculous. You are not going anywhere." The way he says it simultaneously sounds like an order to you yet also an attempt to reassure himself of your impossible departure. You wondered if he interpreted your reason for leaving as something more... drastic.

"Hey-" You stand up, hoping an embrace would calm his nerves, but he begins to pace around. Now, this wouldn't be unusual, he tends to do this while he's ranting or deeply thinking about his research but obviously, it's different this time.

"Leave? No," Zandik scoffs to himself, "the possibility is nigh on impossible. There is no need to plan for such lengths, I shall make sure it doesn't come to that." When he finished mumbling to himself, you tried to interject before his gaze snapped back to you.

"And you. You, how dare you go behind my back and do such a thing? Do you think me incompetent? Do you think me a senseless fool that I would allow you to do this?"

"..."

"I find this quite tasteless, especially after how much you parroted about 'always being by my side' or 'never leaving'. Or have you finally shown your true colors? Leaving me after-" Zandik cut himself off because the words he was going to say next shouldn't be said out loud. Leaving him after he's already obsessed with you, when he's already in love with you and would go mad without your presence. But then all he could feel was your arms around him and your face buried in his chest.

"Zandik please, I'm sorry," your voice was but a whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything like that." Zandik's hands itched to hold you back, but he restrained himself, needing to hear your reasoning.

"I don't want to leave you, I really don't. I love you! So... that's why I filled that form out. Because I... am scared of burdening you too much. I know how you are. I know you want someone who is useful, w-who can be of assistance in all kinds of ways, not someone who is dead weight. So I... I don't want you to force yourself to- ow!" Your increasingly pitiful dialogue was interrupted by a flick to your forehead and the clicking of a tongue.

"Fool..." he moved his hand to rest on the top of your head. "You can be quite intelligent, but the reasons for your stupidity can be headache-inducing sometimes. Now that you've said all of that, has it clicked how idiotic it sounds?" Though your partner's words sounded harsh, his tone was noticeably softer. You could only cast your gaze downward as he sighed.

"I too wonder why you do not take your own advice. Were you not the one who said to... 'talk things out', before jumping to conclusions? So why have I not heard of this?" (The phrase feels out of place and rather disgusting on the man who normally refuses to hold a conversation on anything other than research, but he forces it out for your sake. Unfortunately, he can also hear your sing-song voice in his head as he replays the words.)

"Because... it's dumb, like you said. I shouldn't waste your time anymore..."

"I usually do not entertain dumb inquiries but... you are an exception. My assistant's questions must always be clarified." And as his lover, your troubles must always be assuaged, but that part was left unsaid, although you knew what he meant. "Yes, your usefulness was a great help, but I couldn't care less about that right now. I care about you, and if taking on extra responsibilities happens to fall under that feeling, then so be it. I don't care," Zandik said bluntly. Was it elegant? No. Was it truthful? Yes. It made your cheeks warm a bit.

"Well... thank you for the honor," you couldn't help but crack a tiny smile as Zandik only mumbled something incoherent before pushing you back to bed. Ah, you were feeling a little drained from all of that.

"Now that all that is sorted out, and that hopefully every inch of that nonsense has left you, I suggest you go to sleep quickly, unless you want to be kept awake by the sounds of my latest experiment." You only giggled at your boyfriend. He's unkind... in a kind way if that made sense. But before you could be whisked away to the land of dreams, Zandik spoke once more.

"[Name]."

"Mhm?"

"...Do not try to leave me ever again."

"...I know, Zandik."

[surreal-duck]

live drama adaptations part 2 (prev)

cast reveal and girls movie night 🔥

[120percents]

i just think it’s so funny that zoro does not even wanna comment on the usokaya situation when usopp explicitly asks and he very pointedly looks away when they kiss and yet he proceeds to butt in every single time sanji flirts with a woman or implies he knows about romance to redirect attention back on himself like god i wonder where your interests lie…

[housecow]

the difference between these two 🥺 both??

funny story though. my roommate is still taking food but my memory is so bad when it comes to things i don’t eat myself (adhd)

when i talk to friends and family about the situation the first thing they ask is, “are you sure you’re not sleep eating?” which is adorable. they wanna believe, even if for a second, that maybe i’m not truly at fault for making myself into such a cow 🥺 i get it bc im getting very fat even with the thievery but at the same time. im literally being gaslit

[sluckythewizard]

Keep calm, and drink soda

[CW for blood and gore and vomit] takes place a day or two after emizel was sired. just two boys adjusting to a shift in their daily norms. would YOU drink your homies blood? still not used to writing fanfic so any and all advice IS appreciated. i hope u enjoy.

There were very few things that Soda enjoyed more than well, drinking soda. It was a hobby, an interest, a comfort. And by extension there were very few errands that Soda would look forward to more than the occasional soda run.

The gas station closest to the Demons hideout had stopped selling Faygo entirely about a month or two ago, and it was near impossible to find it anywhere else. The closest place was now this janky little Shell gas station, lovingly titled the Shady Shell, that thankfully sold more flavors than any of the other ones ever did.

It made the hour and a half walk here entirely worth it. Even if this side of town made his skin crawl. Normally he would ask someone to accompany him on this daring little quest, but everyone at the hide out tonight just seemed too tired, too preoccupied, too uninterested.

He knew not everyone really got the soda thing, but they were accepting of it for the most part. Soda is something that, clearly, Soda really loves, but he knew not everyone else was into it.

Which was fine, of course. They didn't need to get it. But, still, sometimes Soda found himself wondering how much of it was a bit, and how much was him.

Emizel gets it perfectly though. He would've been the first person Soda would ask to go on this soda run with him, but, well. He's been preoccupied too, with the whole vampire thing.

It's been a bit more than a day since Soda had last seen his close comrade. For a friend that he saw just about everyday, going without him this long left him feeling a little emptier.

That was fine, though. Emizel had shit he was working out, he had things he needed to do. It's not like he could go out in the day anymore, so of course Soda wouldn't be seeing him at all the usual times.

It was a lot of weird and heavy magical stuff, it made Soda think about those superhero shows. Where the hero needs to keep his identity hidden from everyone. Family especially. He knows how much of a piece of shit Emizels dad is, so he hoped that Emizels home life wasn't stirred up all stupid-like over this.

He hasn't told anyone else, about what happened that night. For the last 2 days, Soda would spend time with close friends and not let them know a thing about what happened to Emizel so, so recently. Why he's so suddenly absent, so distant, so.. off…

'Maybe his dad's just giving him a hard time', he would say, hoping to smother their questions. The less questions they ask, the better. At least until this vampire stuff gets figured out a bit more. Should Emizel wear a disguise when he goes out at night now? Just like a superhero? What kind of hero outfit would Emizel have anyways? Soda figured it would be something really cool.

If anyone could figure out a way to balance all this vampire stuff, and all the leaderly responsibilities that come with being the biggest dog in the Demons, it was Emizel for sure. That guy is so seriously cool.

He was sure this rough patch would even out, and they would weather the next rough patch together no problem. There was really nothing to worry about! All Soda has to do is stay positive, and well, drink soda.

As Soda walks quietly down the crumbling sidewalks of this dreary hive of strip malls and shops, he goes to pull his backpack around to his chest, fumbling with the zipper in the dark. Which was a little annoying, considering the tab of his zipper had fallen off forever ago. He really needed to get around to fixing this damn thing. Maybe another ziptie and a soda tab will do the trick.

Humid air hangs heavy in the night, the sidewalks still somewhat warm after a hotter day. The diesel-soaked air provided enough warmth on its own that Soda had considered taking his jacket off a few times, only for the occasional, annoyingly sharp and chilly breeze to brush by, reminding him to keep the thing on.

Tripping only once and only slightly on an uneven sidewalk, Soda manages to pull a bottle of Faygo from his backpack, a smile glowing on his face. Another short fight with the zipper seals up the bag, and he slings it over his shoulder again.

His flavor of choice tonight was actually the Red Pop, the tried and true, the absolute classic, one of the best Faygo flavors for sure.

But, this kind wasn't actually his favorite. Normally he would stock up on the cotton candy ones, but something about the last few days had him craving the red stuff.

Securing his backpack all the way, he goes to crack open the bottle. Just the clack and the hisssss of the fizzy drink were enough to lift his mood.

Not that his mood needed lifting or anything. Of course. Sure he missed his friend and sure he found himself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and if he's okay. Maybe sometimes he found himself wishing they talked about funeral plans more.

Emizel talked up all sorts of crazy funeral ideas for himself, usually involving the use of his dead body as an inconvenience for others. Outlandish and hilarious ideas, like filling it with explosives and tossing it into a busy road. But what would he want seriously? What would Soda ever do if he just stopped showing up one day?

He had to swallow down all these unnecessary anxieties, so he took a swig of his soda. Sweet, bubbly, comforting. He felt better already! Just stay positive, and drink soda..

It was a lovely night out, and he didn't come all this way planning on letting it go to waste. There was a place he was heading towards, a particular alleyway in this particular place that led off to a particularly tall concrete ledge.

 It was a run-down little space, littered with trash and shitty trees and those bushes with just too many goddamn ants in them. But the view was fairly nice, overlooking a massive deformed intersection. A particularly stupid one, at that; about 3 times a week you could witness a gnarly crash at this spot. Soda always heard people saying that LA folks can't drive, but he was just starting to figure that maybe no one can drive.

That was the place he really wanted to go to enjoy this soda, and he wasn't too far off from it. Just a few more blocks, and he would be there.

Oh wait, didn't he still have a bag of chips in this backpack somewhere? Hell yeah, he couldn't wait to sit down and relax with a good soda, a good snack, and a good view of the night.

Living as a Demon had its fair share of stresses. He felt lucky to have this life, but he knew well that it could be better. That not everyone has to worry about survival the way they do. That not everyone gets injured on the regular and not everyone has to worry about being sick and never getting better.

Living is hard. But it's finding the small moments of joy that make it all worth it. Dying would be scarier anyway. He didn't want to die, and he felt glad to feel so confident in that nowadays.

The sudden   THUNK  of something slamming into the ground just a block away from him, jolts him out of his thoughts, all his gears screeching to a halt as he freezes in place. What the fuck was that?

It looked like a person, laying flat on the ground with only their head and shoulders peeking out of the alleyway ahead. Fuck. He hated this side of town..

Anxiety churns in his stomach as he debates just turning around, but the way the victim reaches an arm out, attempting to crawl away; it made his heart ache aswell. he's no goddamn fighter, but he couldn't just leave someone like th-

The body is suddenly yanked back into the alley, snatched at a startling speed. It didn't feel exactly real, how could something vanish so fast? It reminded Soda of something from a horror movie, or whatever. What the fuck was that??

His foot takes a step forward, before the rest of his body notices its rebellion and locks down again. Was he seriously going to investigate that? He could just walk away and take another alley. But that was the one he was supposed to turn down! All the other alleys are either walled off or gated off and he wasn't about to go climbing over a damn wire gate. His soda would get too shaken up! Fuck!

Another foot goes in for another step forward. He's gotta get the fuck out of here. He could hear more commotion in the alleyway, a scuffle, a skirmish. He could hear someone cursing through a choked breath. A loud and nauseating crack echoes out from the alley, and yet, Soda takes another step forward.

This was stupid, he shouldn't be getting tangled up in someone else's business. What if something happened to all this soda?

Thankfully, it was that thought that actually got him to pause, and take in a deep breath. It wasn't worth it, maybe he should head straight home.

Atleast, that was the thought his heart and mind were about to agree on, until a particularly familiar grroowwwwlll bleeds out from the alley.

Emizel?

All reason immediately evaporates as Soda makes that connection in his head, stepping right up to the corner of the brick walls, and peering around to investigate.

There was a body on the floor, face down in a puddle of red, head split open in a way that reminded Soda of a smashed watermelon.

But standing over that body, was the familiar, blackened coat, and short blonde hair, of Sodas closest comrade, Emizel.

Despite the carnage on the floor, Soda couldn't help the smile that lights up his face. That was Emizel! That was his boy!

But before he could get over just how happy he felt to see his best friend, something else caught his eye. Movement, behind the dumpster closest to the vampire boy. A person, rising out from the shadows with a glinting baseball bat clutched fiercely in their hands.

"Oh fuck, look out!" Soda speaks up, and Emizels gaze immediately clicks over to him, silencing Soda with just that startlingly red stare.

He had forgotten just how uneasy those red eyes made him..

The attacker, silent and professional, rushes up behind Emizel and CRACKS the metal bat downwards onto his blonde head, the sound ringing out like a  gun shot  in that dark little alleyway.

Soda cringes from just the sound of the impact, but was amazed to find that the bat had warped under the force of it!

The attacker hardly had a chance to process his mangled weapon before Emizel whips around to retaliate.

It looked like he had just swung his hand at his opponent, so the way a shower of red spills outward from the slash, catches Soda completely off guard. The monster boy had cleaved an excruciatingly massive gash up from the attackers right hip, to his left shoulder, the slice spewing with scarlet.

 It wasn't until Emizel had pulled back his arm, that Soda could process the way it had darkened with more than just blood, distorted into an odd, spear-like shape.

The victim hardly had a chance to yelp before that blade swoops up into his chest at the speed of a snapping bear trap, plunging through meat and bone with disturbing ease, and forcing blood and viscera to erupt outwards. The red patters down onto the concrete behind, the sound similar to rain...

With another low, inhuman snarl, Emizel brings the twitching, dying body closer, until that signature squish of teeth sinking into fresh meat bleeds outward into the space.

What a disgusting sound, Sodas first instinct was to simply avert his eyes, but as the sound persists, he resolves that he has to do something.

He finally steps out into the alley, and speaks.

"Hey ma-"

He could hardly get two words out before Emizel suddenly rips its teeth away from its victims throat, tearing out a hefty chunk of jellied meat, and slamming the remaining fodder onto the concrete floor.

It immediately whips around to stare down Soda, red eyes glowing with reflected light, and with hardly a chance to process the moment-

-It's immediately right infront of Soda.

A gasp lurches from Soda's lungs as he almost stumbles back in shock. How was Emizel so fucking fast?

Other than that single step back, Soda was frozen in shock, his tongue buzzing with the physical pain of such a startling jolt. 'White boy jumpscare' is something that came to mind, but while usually such a thought would evoke some sort of laugh from Soda, this time it offered no such comfort. Okay maybe it did a little.

Emizels snarling face was only inches away from Sodas. Its eyes were wild and unnatural, teeth menacingly sharp and reddened with so much fucking blood. It was everywhere, coating most of his face, smothering his shirt and his coat, and absolutely choking the air with its thick, metallic stench.

Soda would gag if he felt he was safe to even move. He felt like he was locking eyes with that of a creature, something he would only ever see in his nightmares or in scary movies. But it was real. Those monsters are real. And his best friend is one of those monsters. His bestest friend in the world...

His mind was skewered on that unnatural glare, completely frozen with anxiety. Stalling too hard to come to a proper conclusion, Soda instead falls back onto what Soda does best.

"H-hey man... You want some soda?"

He very gently presses the opened bottle of Faygo into Emizels chest.

The two boys stand there for a moment, locked in a tense, silent pause, before the monster boy finally peels its gaze down to the bottle.

It's quiet, for a few seconds, the gears turning in its head. Until the monster blinks, and its eyes clear, and Emizel processes the sight of the bottle.

"Oh, fuck yeah dude, is that the Candy Apple Faygo? Man, that stuffs my favorite!" Emizel smiles as he goes to accept the bottle, and immediately takes a massive swig.

Soda tries to disregard the way his hands were still shaking. "Uh, n-nah man, its just Red Po-"

The words are bit off as Emizel suddenly retches, a heavy flood of red blood and red Faygo spewing out onto Soda, as the vampire boys body entirely rejects the fizzy drink.

The shock of getting fucking projectile vomited on had snapped Soda out of whatever daze he was just in, and it seemed to snap Emizel out of it too. Soda backs up with a groan, looking down at all the blood and bile and pop on his shirt and coat.

"Ohhh fuck dude, what the hell??" He cringes, not even wanting to try smearing any of it off with his hand.

Emizel was coughing, still holding out the Faygo bottle, but hunched over as his body dared to convulse again.

"Ohhhhhh fuck, ohhooohhh fuuuuucckkk" he grumbles towards the floor "Fuuuck I’m sorry dude, I don't know what fuckin- oohhhgg shit,” He coughs and groans,  offering the bottle back to Soda.

Soda was still staring at his messied coat with a displeased grimace, but looking up to meet Emizels eyes...

There was a guilt on Emizels face that Soda didn't see too often, and it helped wash away that irritation he felt. This sucked, but Emizel was probably going through a lot more. 

“It’s, uhm.. don't, don't worry about it, man..” Soda decides to reassure him, offering a sympathetic smile, and a hand on Emizels shoulder, as his comrade spits out the remaining blood and bile.

"Fuckin hell… I’m uh, I'm sorry about your shirt, man."

"What? Nahh it's okay man, don’t worry about it." Soda shrugs, taking the Faygo bottle back. "I mean, are you okay man? That uh.. looked like a pretty crazy fight."

Emizel was rubbing his eyes, smearing more blood across his face as he seems to be collecting himself. he spares a glance back at the carnage behind him.  

"Ah.. yeah.. I thought I uh.. I thought I saw that one fucker from uh. That one night. Yknow, the one that uh.." He snaps his fingers, as if trying to summon back the memory. "Vampire bitch... Anyway after that I just kind of, uh.."

He seems to space out again as he looks around. It was as if he was just woken up from a deep sleep, like he was certain he had just known what he was doing, but found the dream escaping him. "I guess I just.. went crazy on these guys. I dunno, they're Fangs anyways." he finally shrugs it all off, but Soda still felt unsatisfied by the answer.

"Oh.. huh…” is the only response he manages to scrounge together. Sure they were Fangs, but did they really deserve.. all that? It just seemed a bit brutal, even by Emizels standards.

He found his eyes wandering over to the split-open head. It was mostly red and bloody, but even in the dark, he could still make out some of the finer details of the gray jelly seeping from the gash. A human brain. He wondered if his own brain looked the same on the inside..

“So what are you doing out here, man?” Emizels question helps Soda pull his eyes away from the gore, instead looking over to his bloodied comrade.

Emizel looked messy and even exhausted, but his drowsy gaze was focused on Soda with a worried expression. 

“Oh, uh, yknow, just a soda run. Decided I would stock up on some Faygo from the Shady Shell.” Soda shrugs, his eyes flickering down to the opened Faygo in his hand. The top was covered in regurgitated blood. unnaturally blackened blood…

“Are you.. okay, by the way? Other than the whole..” Soda gestures vaguely at the gruesome crime scene. “Are you hurt?”

The question has Emizel pausing to consider. He straightens his back and stretches his arms, as if trying to detect any pain from any possible injury. Nothing seemed to be bothering him though, and after a second, he decides to shrug.

“Nah, I'm all good.”

“Oh.. That's good, I uh…” Soda found himself looking over Emizel aswell, searching for any wounds the monster boy might be simply disregarding, as he often does.

There was a fairly gnarly gash on his shin..

“Hey uh, I was actually gonna go hang out by the ledge down that way. Yknow, the one with the funny intersection.” Soda says, gesturing off towards where he intended to go. “Wanna come with?”

Emizel looks back that way, before turning back to Soda with a big smile on his face. 

“Oh hell yeah I do! I love the funny intersection!” he starts to walk down the alley, about to step over the body of the broken skull, when Soda speaks up.

“Uh, hey, shouldn't we uh.. Do something about the.. uh..” He waves a hand over towards the bodies, trying not to look directly at them. 

Emizel spares the corpses an inconvenienced glance, and a sigh, but ultimately shrugs them off. “Ehhh I'll just dump 'em in a dumpster again.. That's what I've been doing anyway.”

“And you're not worried about, like, anyone finding them?”

Soda anxiously watches on as Emizel paces around the body with the torn-out throat, licking the blood from his own mouth. Was his tongue always that long and pointed? That's neat, and normally Soda would point it out, but he was a bit.. preoccupied right now 

“Nahh not really. I haven't had anyone bother me at least.. Anyone been bothering you?” Emizels eyes finally flick back over to Soda. 

“Nah, I'd say things are actually more lax than usual. Anything that would end up being trouble’s been pretty much crushe- er, killed- destr- stamped out, by uh, by you.” Sods was cringing with every attempt to find a word that didn’t make his stomach turn, but Emizel didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Emizels eyes were currently a bit more focused on the body laying before him. He had that weird look on his face again… 

“Uhh, yeah, yeah that's good that uh, no troubles coming back to you guys…”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two as Emizel stares at this corpse, and Soda was about to open his mouth to fill the silence, but Emizel speaks up instead.

“Hey uh, why don’t you go ahead of me? I’ll uh, I'll meet you at the place.” He suggests, pointing vaguely off down the alley, but not removing his eyes from the kill. 

Soda certainly hesitates, his eyes narrowing before he even forms a thought. He opens his mouth to object, but then his eyes flicker back towards the body.

“Are you gonna eat this one too?”

The question leaves Sodas mouth as soon as it comes to mind.

Emizel pauses, and considers, before giving a shrug. “I don't see why not. Perfectly good blood.” He reaches down to grab his kill by the shirt, the one with the split open head. As the corpse rises from the concrete, gray matter drips and sloughs from the crack in its skull. Once again, Soda felt the need to look away, and yet his stupid eyes remained fixated on the horrendous sight. Emizel looks over the spilling brain of his meal, licking his lips curiously. “Dude, what do you think would happen if I ate his brain?” Emizel asks, looking back over to Soda with a wild, bloodied smile. Something about that look made Soda shiver, but.. Not really in a bad way… “Uh, I.. Dunno…. Eating a persons brain is how you get like, mad cow disease right? But you might also be immune to disease.. Are you immune to disease?” “Uhhh, I don't know yet actually. I'm still figuring out how much of this is like video games,” Emizel says, rubbing the back of his head as he idly sways the body of his kill around, watching the blood and gore drip and drop from its broken head. “Eh, I'll chance it later.” Without another word or thought, Emizel goes to sink his teeth into the shoulder of his kill, a pleased growl radiating from him as the blood gushes around the bite. More fresh blood upon less fresh blood upon old blood upon older blood. Just so much fucking blood. Soda thought he was used to seeing blood, but this… this was just egregious. Was he really starting to get used to this? It’s just blood after all, and it’s not from his comrades, so it's… fine… He finally manages to pull his eyes away from the gruesome sight of Emizel feeding, but his eyes instead wander down to the blood on his own shirt. Emizels blood was strange, darker than usual, and carrying a different scent. Something about the smell of his blood was more savory, more appealing than the standard metallic miasm. His shirt was smothered in it, his jacket was coated in it, and his opened bottle of Faygo was also splattered with the deep red ichor. Ink swirls within the bottle of red fizzy, spreading out into all sorts of odd patterns. It was a lot of blood. He was certain a lot of it came from however many people Emizels been feeding on. With how much hes been terrorizing the Fangs in just the last few days, and with how nonchalantly he feasts on his kills, who knows how much blood hes actually ingested… Soda swirls the bottle, watching the blood inside thin out into strands, dancing within the bubbly soda as they gradually dissipate, fully assimilating into the drink. A bad idea chews at the back of his head… The sound of ripping flesh once again knocks at Sodas head. He doesn’t look up this time, but he knew Emizel was just playing with his food again..  Did blood taste good to a vampire? Did some blood taste better than others? What did Sodas blood taste like? What did Emizels blood taste like? There's a visceral snap of something among the chewing and ripping, very clearly a bone or a joint snapping out of place. It made Soda shiver a little. When did his heart start pounding? There's an animal standing only 8 feet away from him, feeding on its kill. That animal is a person, and so is its kill. He wanted to know what vampire blood tasted like, but he already knew what human blood tasted like. It hung so densely in the air, he could feel it forming a vile film over his tongue. The blood of a person just like him. Eaten by an animal that eats people.  All this stress was no good. This bile rising to his throat was no good. This creeping anxiety was no good. He's friends with an animal that eats people. Would it eat him? This weird feeling was no good. Maybe it will never eat him. But it needs to eat people. This worry was no good. He needed to wash this awful taste from his mouth, replace it with something sweeter. He needed to keep his head clear enough to be there for Emizel when he needed to be. He needed to hold a light to these shadows. And he needed to stay positive, and drink soda. He takes a swig of the open Faygo bottle.

[3416]

had THE™ time of my life this past weekend visiting minnesota, spending time with one of the best people ever @thedreamthieves over her birthday, and getting to see the leafs. st paul and the people there did NOT disappoint me even when my hockey team did <3. what a beautiful and lowkey place........ i will for sure be back some day.

[againstme]

idk man i’m just thinking about against me! and transness, especially cause we’re coming up on ten fucking years of transgender dysphoria blues, on the 21st.

lyrics have been swimming in my head lately.

“what god doesnt give to you, you’ve got to go and get for yourself.”

“if i could’ve chosen, i would’ve been born a woman. my mother once told me she would’ve named me laura. i’d grow up to be strong and beautiful like her.”

“you wouldn’t think something like gender identity would complicate something like asking for some company.”

“she spent the last few years of her life running from the boy she used to be.”

“standing naked in front of that hotel bathroom mirror, in her dysphoria’s reflection, she still saw her mother’s son.”

“agitated states of amazement, never quite the woman that she wanted to be.”

“you want them to see you like they see every other girl, they just see a faggot, they hold their breath not to catch the sick.”

“chipped nail polish and a barbed wire dress. is your mother proud of your eyelashes? silicone chest, and collagen lips. how would you even recognize me?”

“no more troubled sleep, there’s a brave new world that’s raging inside of me.”

“all my life, wishing i was one of them. there will always be a difference between me and you.”

“what’s the best end you can hope for? pity fucks and table scraps?”

“all the young graves filled, don’t the best all burn out so bright and so fast?”

“sometimes at night, i pray to wake a different person in a different place.”

“i don’t want to hang around the graveyard, waiting for something dead to come back. i know you think you’ve got one up on me, that you can see something i can’t.”

“i wanna be so real, you can see the difference.”

“dig up your bones, early graves are not homes.”

“come on, shape shift with me! what’ve you got to lose? fuck it!”

“confessing childhood secrets of dressing up in women’s clothes, compulsions you never knew the reasons to.”

“i’m sick of feeling like i’m losing my mind. sick of doing the same things most nights after night. sick of self loathing and self absorption, self destructive narcissism.”

some of these are directly referencing transness, some just alluding to it. some are just ones that i relate to as i’ve grown up struggling with my gender and sexuality and accepting my own transness and dealing with self harm and self destruction and relying too much on drugs.

finding myself buying baggies of coke and just stuffing them in my wallet while i walked downtown, feeling this immense guilt at the bottom of my stomach for essentially just wasting 25 dollars on a drug that wasn’t doing much for me besides making me feel like i was feeling something different than what my life was. getting scared shitless while in the line at the convenience store after picking up, seeing cops come into the store, and the small tied up bag filled with what was more baby powder than coke in my back pocket felt like the the heaviest and most obvious thing in the world.

and then i’d find myself on calls with my friends, with my camera turned off or pointing at the ceiling, suddenly muting my mic holding a cut up piece of a straw in my teeth as i crushed shit up with my library card from a city i wasn’t planning on living in again. just having them talk while i was racking baby lines, tilting my head back and rubbing it on my gums after. i was sniffling all the time. sometimes my nose would bleed when i would wake up. and i wasn’t even really feeling much; i didn’t know at the time that this would be because of having adhd and just basically spending money on overpriced shit that was just like taking an adderall, but it was a drug in front of me, that gave me the idea or the false hope of running away from my life during the short lived high.

“before you know it, here i am again, fucking 6 o’clock in the morning, rolled up dollar bill in my hand.”

“what the fuck are you cutting this with, anyway?”

“how low can you go before you can’t turn around?”

i don’t think that when i was 14 and getting into against me! that i would ever actually get to a point of fully relating to those lyrics. of running away from such a huge part of yourself or your problems, trying to fill the void with drugs that you’d plow through so quickly, faster than you thought you would every time.

the thing is, was that at this point, i had already started my transition. i was already “passing.” but i never got to the root of it. sure, i’m trans, but who am i? and i didn’t know how to answer that question. so i just pushed it away, pushed it under the rug.

“you can pray all night and day, but you’ll still wake up the same person in the same fucking place.”

against me! has been there for me for ten years. throughout so many transformations of myself, so much shape shifting, so much dysphoria, so many late nights wishing i was a different person in a different place.

i found solace in their lyrics. it gave me some small bit of hope, some realization that i didn’t know that i needed; that trans people always have been and always will be here, that being able to be trans and be alive is possible, and that i don’t have to be digging my own grave, spending late nights staring at the mirror and seeing the girl who i used to be.

against me! gave me the courage to be alive.

[nururu]

God I could write a novel about how great of a character Zoro is... I'm rewatching and I'm at his fight with Mr.1, and just.... He has such an intricate monologue when he's fighting, and it gives so much insight to how his thoughts work, and shows how deeply analytical and self reflective he is.

He progresses intentionally, and logically. He thoroughly works out problems until he finds the solution, and he reflects on what he knows about mental fortitude and instinctual/spiritual connections. If Zoro does this to advance his physical abilities, then it's safe to say that he does this to solve his mental and emotional shortcomings as well.

There's a lot of Buddhism/Taoism influence in how Zoro processes his emotions and events that occur. It comes across as unemotional but I feel like oda puts so much effort into getting his intentions across.

Also he's not unemotional during his inner monologues. His inner thoughts are always very sentimental and a lot of his power is gained by embracing and trusting in his emotional bonds with people. Zoro allows himself to feel every emotion as it comes, but he embraces them all as something to benefit from. His emotions drive him forward. He creates these deep bonds, and is driven by heartfelt promises he's made to people very special to him. That is Zoro's motivation.

That's why during all of his big fights, when we get a look at his inner thoughts, I end up getting very emotional, because ZORO is emotional. Anyways ppl who say Zoro's emo,unemotional,&stupid are projecting.

[chimerahyperfix]

CW: Graphic depictions of violence, lots of Death and Gore, Psychological horror for like 3 lines, mentions of drowning. Please read the tags and take caution. This one's more than a little visceral.

-----

The King is here.

You walk through crowded halls of rushing Housemaidens getting into defensive positioning. It's like fighting a wave in the ocean, hard to push through the crowd. You make do anyways, curling through paths you normally wouldn't take.

It's a big deal to everyone but you, at this point. This is the big event, the big fight; to you it's simply where time loops back. Just another day, y'know? You've done it over and over, and you'll probably keep doing it anyways.

It's odd, pushing through the crowd. Everyone is going one way and you are going another. Rushing versus strolling. Your hands are in the pockets of your lab coat. You're practically whistling, for crab's sake!

You simply cannot be bothered this loop. It's a failure from the start: you crabbed up making the bomb, which means you're crabbed from the very beginning. You climbed up the Favor Tree and wedged yourself between the braches for a few hours to pass the time, because looping back would be too much of an inconvenience, and you could just wait until the tears started spawning in the house to go back. The birds had a good time at least, one starting to craft a nest next to you.

You ghosted throughout the day, and now its go time. Everyone else is prepared and ready to fight for time itself, and here you are just. Walking. Realistically you're searching for a tear to stop it all before it starts, but luck isn't on your side this loop.

You can hear it, hear it-- the horrors. All the screams of those unfortunate enough to cross the King's path and fight back. It would be easier, for them, to just bow back and let themselves be frozen-- but no one wants to be frozen, because that's having choice itself stolen from you, a cage of ice to lock yourself in forever. It's just as bad as being dead. Stagnant and eternally screaming.

So they march to their deaths.

The King does not take kindly to the Housemaidens fighting back. Some loops, the House isn't prepared for his attack. Those loops are the nice ones, the less gorey ones. Less dead and more frozen bodies, because no one was prepared to brawl with the monster. He can just... swoop on through and take the House without more than a handful of casualties. This loop is one of the bad ones, because your fellow housemaidens were all prepared. You always think your prepared, too, to see the outcome, but you never truly are.

You turn into the main hall, and freeze still.

No matter how many loops you go through, the carnage always gets to you. There's a nasty, overpowering smell of iron in the air and big dark stains painting the walls, the floors and the roof. Bits and pieces of mashed guts and viscera. There were people in this hallway, once.

Not anymore.

It makes you sick to your stomach like every other time. Just the thought of it. There were people here and now there's only parts of them left. Just ten minutes ago or so, there were people here.

There were people here.

The gore goes in a trail down the hall. Paints practically everything-- including frozen people, if you look down the hall. All frozen with shock and absolute horror on their faces. You recognize some of them.

You try not to think about it.

You push on. Try to ignore the way the blood seeps into your shoes very fabric so they become damp. Try to ignore the fact you're trailing someone's very life behind you now with bloody shoe prints.

There are still no tears.

Plan B, then. The King himself.

You hate going against the King. It always ends terribly with you in agony. But that's the only option left right now, so you chase him down on his little path carved from the blood of the innocent. You find him quickly, too- just down the hall.

He stops before you can get too close. The smell in the air is overpowering, the sharp tang of blood and the burning sensation of the sugar.

"Burning one." He says to you. You're not sure where he pulled that one from: the nickname was something different at some point, but you've long forgotten what it was. Maybe it's the smell of burnt, rotting sugar or maybe it's the potions that burnt your throat. You're not sure anymore.

He just... stands there. Turns around and looks at you. You can feel the dead expression you're pulling as you stare back. Blood glints on his armor, shining and the worst sight in the world and all the same kinda beautiful in its own way? Like the lightless gore is the night sky itself, sparkling with little dots. Makes you feel sick just thinking that.

"How have you done it?" He asks. He asks it every time the two of you face off, the same five words. How. A inquiry. Something you have done, you shouldn't have, and he knows it.

You... think you've gotten it, now. Your hypothesis: How you wished. It's not something you were supposed to do. You did something different something WRONG, and it did something to time itself, tearing a hole in the fabric of space. It's wrong. It's wrong, and you know it and so does the King.

He stares in your direction. You think? Despite his hands, blood-stained as they are, not being infront of his face, the mop of hair is still in the way. You can feel the glare still. Enraged. Daggers in your side.

"I don't know." It's the truth.

"You don't know?"

"I don't remember."

The King goes silent. It's odd, having an actual conversation with him. Even if it was a tiny exchange, it still throws you off. He's willing to talk, even if just a question. He's never really talked to you-- or anyone, to your knowledge-- before.

"Ouuuuhhhh... of course you don't." He wails. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. "You shouldn't have been able too, oohhh... not at all..."

He raises a fist up. It sparkles like the night sky, dark dripping from between his fingers. There's still someone's remains painted on them. Preemptively you brace and throw your arms up in an attempt to block.

It's a different thing that hits you. A new attack. A giant open palm slams into your chest, and you go flying backwards into the wall. The world turns to slow motion as something in you SNAPS. Crunches. Your bones shatter and explode with the force and speed, shooting little shards of agony everywhere.

It hurts. It HURTS. Pain rips through your entire body, and you realise you've started to scream when your chest begins to hurt. Blood splatters onto your glasses, blotting out your vision.

You look up at the King. How'd you get on the floor? How are you breathing, with no lungs? You can see fragments of bone stuck between the metal of his armor.

"Let this be a lesson to you, Burning one."

Metal clinks, and your vision swims-- dots in the corners, figures blur. Blood drips down into your left eye and paints half of your vision a dark shade. Nothing but pain.

Make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop make it stop-- it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts.

You

Simply stop thinking. Just for a moment.

So your brain can catch up! Yeah, sure. That's a good enough excuse.

Just. Pain. You are pain incarnate, and that's all you will be until you die slowly and loop back.

You

Blink,, and

The King. Is gone. You can hear him leaving, loud stomping footsteps dissapearing down a bloodstained trail, and you just stare.

How lucky, HOW LUCKY of you to be left alive this time. Like this isn't a fate worse than death. You gasp for air, and realise all you have left is blood filling your lungs.

It hurts. You want it to end, now. It's hard to see, over the blood and spots dancing across your eyes, but you see them; tears, floating around you. A quick out. You reach out, and the pain in you flares alive, ripping and tearing you apart. You feel like your flesh is going to peel off.

Your fingers brush into one of the tears, and you sob as the ice rolls down your arm and consumes you. It feels a hundred times better than what you were feeling before.

You freeze in time-- and luckily theres no nightmare you have to endure, you just wake back up at your desk. You spend a good chunk of the morning curled up in the bathroom getting sick, because, wow! That's the worst one yet! It's curled into your very being, the feeling of breaking your bones like rock candy, the feeling of drowning in blood.

You just... have to do it better this time, or... something. Hope is fading away into background static. You can't... do this anymore. It hurts too much. You want it to stop. Please make it stop.

[pippytmi]

Hi!! For the Kacy Post Breakup AU stories. Do you still taking promt?? Please can you write "i found the ring when i was moving my stuff out of your apartment and now everything makes sense”?? But Kate found the ring, Kate broke up with Lucy the reason is up to you. Love the ones you already write, thankkk yoouu 🫶🏽

“Theoretically—and I do mean this theoretically, I can’t stress that enough—would you be able to one: procure a pair of bolt cutters, and two: meet me somewhere in twenty minutes? Just think about it. As a purely hypothetical situation.”

Lucy has to stifle a laugh into her fist as she patiently listens to Ernie’s dramatics. “As much as I want to come free you from wherever you’re chained up—”

“I said in theory—”

“—I have a thing,” Lucy says. “Um. With Kate?” To call it “a thing” might be a complete oversimplification, but Ernie gives an understanding hum on the other end of the phone.

“I can be there in five minutes. Okay, like twenty-five minutes. And I can be a buffer, or a distraction, or someone to stare her down all night. Whatever you need.”

Lucy turns the corner and sees Kate Whistler waiting on her doorstep, and the tell-tale pang in her chest briefly makes her falter. “No, it’s fine,” she remembers to answer. “I have to go, though.”

“If you’re sure,” Ernie says, sounding entirely unconvinced. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Lucy mumbles, and she shoves her phone into her back pocket as she carefully approaches her apartment. Kate is still standing there—stiffly out of place with suitcases at her side—but she somehow still straightens up even more when she notices Lucy. “Hey,” Lucy calls, a touch confused. “You didn’t let yourself in?”

“I wasn't sure if you wanted me to,” Kate says, awkwardly pulling at the strings of her hoodie the way she does when she is uncomfortable. She takes a step back when Lucy brings out her keys, obviously trying not to hover, and Lucy sighs.

“I don’t care, whatever,” she says, ushering Kate in with a halfhearted flourish when the door clicks open. “Just ignore the mess, I haven’t cleaned or anything.” Work has actually kept her from being home very often beyond to sleep, so she knows her apartment will be a little bit in disarray.

To Kate, it must be a war zone; she has always been a neat freak (in the most endearing way). Lucy has to step over a stack of Amazon packages to even get inside, and she knows that Kate will zero in on everything else Lucy hasn’t cleared out yet: the takeout containers on the coffee table, the jackets strewn over the chairs, the abandoned folders and posters all over the couch. 

Lucy is used to it, though, and she walks right in whereas Kate seems to freeze. “Do you want a drink?”

Kate does a double-take, snapping out of her stupor. “Sorry?”

“A drink,” Lucy repeats. “Do you want one?”

“I…think it would be better to do this sober,” Kate says, brow crinkling, and Lucy has to pause to work out what the hell Kate is talking about.

“What? No, I meant like water. Or Gatorade,” Lucy amends. “Actually, I might only have Gatorade.” It’s a whole thing—some new sponsorship her agent had set up which led to a whole crate of the stuff being shipped—and now Lucy has way more than she can drink.

“I'm okay. But thank you,” Kate says, formal to a fault, and Lucy resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Okay, well, you can…get started. I’m going to be doing some work in the kitchen if you need anything,” Lucy says.

Kate rapidly nods. “Right. Of course,” she says. “I’ll be as quick as I can. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Yeah. No, totally.” Lucy has actually cleared her entire day just for this, but she doesn't say as much. It is much easier to hide away and pretend she's reading a script instead of, you know, waiting for her ex-girlfriend to pack up all remnants of their relationship.

Even without watching her do it, Lucy knows Kate is probably working efficiently and effectively to erase all traces of happiness from this apartment—their apartment. Kate had never officially moved in, but it was still theirs, and Lucy sees her in everything: in the framed print of The Great Wave off Kanagawa, in the uneven coffee table they picked out from a flea market because it was so beautifully hideous, in the old, torn couch where they had exchanged I love yous for the first time.

(That fact may have also influenced Lucy’s choice to spend as much time as possible at work. Maybe.)

Speaking of work…Lucy begrudgingly takes a seat at the kitchen table to pretend she is doing some. At the very least, she can do the boring task of clearing emails from her agent. Also, she should probably check and make sure Ernie is alive.

About an hour into rewatching Gilmore Girls, Kate shows up in the doorway, wringing her fingers together anxiously. “Sorry to bother you,” she says, as if she can’t hear Lorelai Gilmore’s voice from Lucy’s laptop, “but do you know where my backpack is? The one I use for hiking?”

Lucy blinks. “Uh, I’m not sure.” Kate is the person who normally knows where everything is. Even in Lucy’s apartment, she has an uncanny ability to find stuff Lucy never can.

“I had it the weekend before…” Kate doesn’t have to finish with before I broke up with you, but Lucy hears it anyway. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. If you find it later I can just come back for it.”

“No, I can help you look.” Lucy pauses her show to clarify, “Just so you don’t have to make two trips.”

Kate’s cautious expression slowly morphs into a slightly crestfallen one. “Right. No, of course,” she says.

“Where did you look?” Lucy follows Kate outside to retrace her steps, and all the while, she curiously takes note of the absence of things Kate has chosen to select as purely hers: the cozy throw blanket off the couch, the snow globe which Kate’s mom had sent over for Christmas, the paper flower which Lucy had folded for Kate and previously was displayed in their only vase.

“Both closets—I don’t remember putting it anywhere else. Did you let someone borrow it, maybe?” Kate heads into the bedroom, zeroing in on their closet, but Lucy is focused solely on Kate’s question.

“Why would I let someone borrow your backpack? It’s not mine,” Lucy says, with admittedly a bit of indignation in her tone, but. Who the hell is Kate to suggest that Lucy would be so petty as to lose Kate’s lame hiking backpack?

Kate glances at her sideways, brow crinkling ever-so-slightly. “I don’t know. I just thought—”

“That I’m going to be that ex who trashes your stuff?” Lucy knowingly fills in.

“No, that’s not at all what I’m saying.” Kate says, and she even looks quite alarmed at the suggestion. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.”

“Okay, then, don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve kicked your puppy or something!” Lucy presses her fingertips against her temples.

Kate opens her mouth, then dejectedly shuts it. After a beat she mumbles, “I wasn’t trying to.”

“Well you are.” Lucy has to turn away, and she busies herself with digging through the pile of clothes at the bottom of the closet to see if somehow Kate’s backpack is buried underneath. It isn’t, but Lucy does find the script she had been searching for since last month, so it’s still a win-win. 

“I can get another one,” Kate says suddenly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Sure, whatever you want,” Lucy says, kicking a parka out of the way as she wanders into the adjoining bathroom. “Is that the last thing you need to pack?” Already, all of Kate’s toiletries are missing. Lucy has to bite her lip to keep from doing something stupid like tearing up at the sight of her toothbrush all alone; the absolute last thing she needs to do is start breaking down when Kate is right outside.

“Almost,” Kate’s voice rings out hesitantly from beyond the door. “I have to finish sorting out my clothes.”

Lucy pokes her head out to briefly advise, “Check my drawers, I might have stolen a few of your shirts.” Selfishly, she wants to hang on to anything of Kate’s that she can, but she is making an effort to be practical. If she keeps on wasting her nights getting drunk and crying into that sweater of Kate’s that still smells like her, Lucy will never actually get over Kate. And she has at least promised Ernie that she will try.

Kate starts opening the drawers of the nightstands; Lucy can hear them open and shut. Lucy continues to peek about the bathroom until she has no reason to, and she begrudgingly makes her way back into the bedroom prepared to fake a call and escape back to the kitchen.

But when she walks in, Lucy is immediately immobilized at the sight of Kate standing stock-still in the center of the room—eyes wide, skin eerily pale—and in her hand is the ring box that Lucy forgot she hid in the top drawer of her nightstand.

“Oh fuck,” Lucy breathes out, her mouth forming words before her brain can interject. “That…is not what it looks like.”

Kate rapidly sets the box down on the bed, hand trembling all the while. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It just fell out. It—” She stops, sags backwards until she is leaning against the wall, her usual stoic façade completely melted away into pure disbelief. “You were going to propose?”

This time, there’s no stopping the tears when they spring to her eyes, but Lucy still wipes at them anyway. “I loved you, Kate,” she says thickly, her heart beating fast in an unbelievably painful manner. “What do you think?”

“I thought—” Kate audibly swallows. “You told me you never wanted to get married.”

Lucy shrugs limply. “Well, you do,” she says. “Obviously not with me, but..."

Kate goes silent for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks at last, and her voice quivers like she might cry, which makes absolutely no sense.

“How could I?” Lucy scoffs. “Did you want me to stop your little spiel about ‘not fitting in each other’s lives anymore’ to say ‘hey, Kate, I actually want to propose to you. Can you maybe reconsider breaking up with me?’” 

“It would’ve explained a lot, Lucy,” Kate says, stricken. “This whole time—is this why you were acting so weird?”

“I wasn’t acting weird,” Lucy says defensively.

Kate doesn’t seem to be listening. “I thought it was about your job,” she goes on, almost as if to herself. “I thought you were regretting everything.” Her cheeks glisten with silent tears, and Lucy’s stomach flips in on itself.

She doesn’t know what she’s feeling at first. Initially, Lucy assumes it’s devastation, her chest so tight with it like she might finally burst into sobs. But then she realizes it’s anger, white-hot and all-consuming, and when it explodes it comes out as:

“You didn’t even try to talk to me? If I was acting weird, fine. I don’t agree, but let’s say I was.” Lucy begins to pace, because otherwise, she might actually start crying hysterically. “Why wouldn’t you ask me what was going on?”

“I did,” Kate says softly, too softly. “You said it was work.”

Lucy pauses. “Okay, maybe that one time,” she allows. “I don’t see how that leads to dumping me.”

Kate pushes off the wall, her gaze so sorrowful and pained that Lucy has to cross her arms and pointedly look away. “I was holding you back,” she says plainly. “Your career is taking off, Lucy. You’re so famous now you get recognized every time you leave the house. I’m still a dropout law student with no idea what I’m doing in life.”

“I never cared about that.”

“But I do,” Kate says desperately. “That’s why I…that’s the only reason why I wanted to break up. It was never because I didn’t love you.” Kate has moved closer, maybe inadvertently, but Lucy jerks backwards all the same.

“It’s too late,” Lucy says—realizes. “You can’t tell me that. You’re leaving. You chose this! Kate, you—you decided to break my heart instead of trying to make this work. How do you expect me to feel?”

Kate’s hands go immediately to her hoodie strings. “I know,” she says. Twists the ends between her thumb and forefinger. “If I could take it back—”

“You can’t,” Lucy cuts her off. “You ruined it.” Her frustration is the tipping point: the tears come and they’re not pretty, hot and stinging and absolutely ruining whatever makeup she has worn today. “I’m going to go, okay? I’m going to ask Ernie to pick me up and you can just—just let me know when you’re done.”

“No, I…” Kate shakes her head. “I’ll go. Um. Don’t worry about the rest of my stuff.” She zips up her half-empty suitcase and haphazardly yanks it along, lingering briefly only by the doorway like she wants to say something else before she leaves. Lucy can see her struggle; her jaw clenches and unclenches until finally she says, “I’m sorry.”

Lucy exhales, recognizing at once she only has one chance to ask what has been bugging her this entire time. “Kate,” she says, to stop her just for one second. “Would…would you have said yes?”

Kate gazes at her so sadly that when she smiles, barely there, it is as surprising as it is heartbreaking. “Of course I would have,” she says quietly.

And without even waiting for Lucy to say anything—perhaps realizing that she won’t—Kate is leaving, and Lucy is letting her. If this was a movie, Lucy would chase her out the door; maybe get down on one knee anyway, and wait for Kate to finally accept their happily-ever-after in whatever form it takes.

But this isn’t a movie, and there is no black and white ending which will ever really satisfy them both. So Lucy sinks down onto her bed, cradles the ring box in her palm, and begins to mourn a life that was never hers to begin with.

[gardensorrel]

Every time I'm drawing on call with my friend and they let me get going abt mdzs all my doodles turn into some flavor of Him......

[hermitcraftx]

just got a dm abt one of my posts and y'all please don't try and show the hermits (or any minecraft youtuber or content creator for that matter) my posts, i'm uncomfortable with it and don't want any of my posts shown to a cc. if they stumble upon it naturally that's unfortunate but i can live with it since i do maintag a lot (something i REALLY need to stop doing tbh i already know i need to make a tagging system just for my blog that wont clog results) but going out of ur way to show a cc is entirely different and something i am not comfortable with.

no hate to the person at all but even if i wasn't a little silly and weird with it sometimes i wouldn't be comfortable with it, i want my blog to be a purely fandom only space with none of the creators involved <3 please respect this

[mdverse]

Hello bestie I would like it if you could please rank all of the Brittana kisses? Thank you in advance

hi bestie i am at ur service 🫡

churro kiss my most beloved <333

prewedding kiss my second most beloved <33

heart kiss

tongue tied dip kiss

the one from the "i will love you until infinity" scene

the "i'd choose you over everyone" peck

the uhhh "did i ever tell you i love you" "tell me again" kiss but like. specifically for the hug afterwards bc it's so cute

breakup kiss

wedding kiss

the one from after britt graduates

heart peck

diva peck

breakup ep peck (the one from when santana is doing her laundry)

[tomdarsh]

you ever get really excited about something but you have no one to tell it to because it’s

a. too weird

b. you have 2 friends (like me lol) and you’ve already used your texting privileges and can’t text again till they respond out of fear of seeming desperate (i am VERY desperate)