#with all of this i mean to say please don't grill me on the details. i simply dont know and will start crying profusely if pressed

[egelskop]

i am so interested in ur hlvrai au can we get a rundown

oh boy, this is going under a readmore.

fair warning, this is a LONG read because (1.) i am not a competent writer and (2.) i can't for the life of me keep things brief. sorry and or good luck.

ACT I

The Black Mesa incident: Gordon Freeman is provided an opportunity to do an informal beta test for a combat training simulation program that's in development in the Research & Development department of the Black Mesa Research Facility. (Read: He knows a guy in R&D and said guy knows Gordon likes video games and VR stuff, so he was like "hey you should come check this out when you're on break.")

The combat sim would be a revolutionary training simulation using artificial intelligence to enhance and realize the experience for the ‘player character’.

The test goes wrong, and Gordon can’t seem to disengage from the simulation and odd, unscripted things start happening; he has to ‘play the game’ to its full completion before he is able to exit the simulation safely. He has suffered a brain injury throughout the process, eye damage due to prolonged exposure to the headset and is generally traumatized by the simulation experience he at some point could no longer physically and emotionally distinguish from the real world. The project as a whole is shut down and Gordon is put into a rehabilitation program. Black Mesa covers up the incident as best it can, but whispers of it still echo around the facility.

Below is a page for a two-page comic i never finished detailing said events.

ACT II

The rumors reach the ears of a particularly tech-savvy researcher named Clark, who steals the project documentation and anything else he can get his hands on from a storage. At home, he looks into the project, reads about it, and gets curious about the simulation’s files themselves. They’re on a drive he plugs into his computer, and suddenly his system’s performance lags, windows open and close until a txt. file opens up. He comes into contact with one of the simulation’s AI that has somehow entered his operating system. He tries to keep it busy by having it poke around as he reads up on the simulation and its ultimate shutdown. When the AI reveals it can see him through the webcam, he panics and rips the drive out of the port. The invasive AI and the other project files seems like they’re gone from his system, he does a checkup but sees nothing odd running or otherwise. The next day after work he does another checkup. Finding nothing, he surmises he’s in the clear and starts up an online game. The slumbering, corrupted data of the AI sees its out, and disappears into the game.

ACT III

The transition/journey to the game is a rocky one, and the already corrupted data of the AI known as Benrey splits and gets even more fragmented. The largest fragment embeds itself into the game’s files to keep itself running. Without the foundation of the game to support it, it’d be lost to a dead void and slowly die out. Somewhat stable, it learns about the world around it; the game seems to be an exploration sandbox game. For now (and clarity), I’ve chosen to call this bigger, embedded fragment ‘Data’. (so this is the big benny with the right eye/one big eye in my art)

Data splits off a smaller fragment of itself, intending it to be an avatar or ‘player character’ but this grows into its own awareness and becomes who we’ll call ‘Beastrey’ (the smaller benny with the left eye and tail in my art).

The fragment ‘Beastrey’ wakes to a dead void, so Data uses its knowledge to create a private server for Beastrey, an empty world. Beastrey’s existence is an extension of the bigger part, with more freedom of movement to parse through the game and move freely within it, with the caveat that it can’t go ‘too far’ away from the host. Beastrey can visit other servers and relay information. Data learns and slowly starts building up the world/private server, at some point settling for an aquatic world because it reminds it of itself (something something sea of data). It's important to note that Beastrey retains little to no memories of the events of canon VRAI.

Data makes it easier for Beastrey to move around, and they grow to have more reach with time. At some point Data can alter the basic structural elements of the game, so it plays around with making things that are reminiscent of the memories it has of Black Mesa and Xen. At one point, it gains access to parse through the player base of the game, and takes note of an email address: ‘g.m.freeman@gmail.com’, attached to a player account. The name is somewhat familiar to it.

It sends an invite to join the server to the player account.

ACT IV

Gordon tries going back to work at Black Mesa after rehabilitating, but he has trouble separating his experiences with the simulation from reality, to a breaking point where an altercation with a security guard drives him to quit. He seeks professional help for his PTSD and anxiety, but still experiences dissociative episodes, migraines and somatic flashbacks localised mostly in his right forearm. Despite this, he is determined to continue living his life as normally as possible. He applies for a part-time job teaching physics at a local high school, the one where his son Joshua goes to, and remains relatively stable from there.

Joshua is 15 years old. Regular teen. After an impressive amount of pleading he got a VR-headset for his 14th birthday from Gordon (much to the disapproval of Gordon’s ex), and he’s been captivated by an exploration sandbox game since it came out a few months ago.

He gets an invite to an unnamed private server, and he accepts.

He is struck with awe as the world he enters seems completely different from the ones he’s seen so far in the game. Different flora, different fauna. Most of it uninteractible, though, or otherwise just retextured from its base game variant. Even the new enemy types, after a scare, can’t actually hurt him, it seems. He stumbles upon Beastrey, who is just as surprised to see him and wants him out until Joshua says he was invited.

Joshua commends Beastrey (who introduces himself as 'Ben-') on ‘modding’ everything in, but admits that he was disappointed to find that everything was just surface-level stuff. Beastrey inquires about what he’d like to see. Data is always watching, unseen, and decides to alter the world in the way Joshua described when Joshua leaves.

Joshua starts appearing more often, if only for a few hours at a time. He marvels at the ways the world shifts and grows with each time he plays, and takes to exploring it with Beastrey at his side, for whom strangely enough a lot of things are also new. Joshua teaches both Beastrey and Data about the outside world, thinking Beastrey is just a somewhat reclusive but likeable weirdo.

Joshua tells Gordon about the new friend he made, ‘Ben’, and the adventures he’s been having with the other. Gordon is happy to hear Joshua is having a good time, but is otherwise none the wiser. Joshua starts losing track of time in the game, but chalks it up to being invested.

During one play session, Beastrey confesses he isn’t the one who did all the ‘modding’, and invites Joshua to meet Data. Data, or at least its ‘physical’ in-game manifestation is deep within the world, past the aquatic twilight zone and strange, drowned ruins of an unknown facility. Data, for the first time, really sees Joshua, and the resemblance sparks something within it. Joshua is drawn closer to it, and just before he reaches it-

Joshua wakes up lying on the floor with Gordon hunched over him in his room, pleading with him to wake up. Joshua unknowingly got drawn into the game much like Gordon had been, and Gordon urges Joshua to never touch the headset again, taking it away. Gordon opens up about his experiences with the simulation a bit more. They both agree to not touch the game or the headset again.

ACT V

Gordon comes into contact with an old coworker from Black Mesa, and he inquires about the combat simulation project, if anything happened to it after it was canned. This is where he learns that an employee had taken the project files from storage and was consequently fired. He comes into contact with Clark, and Clark explains he had no idea he accidentally unleashed the AI unto the game. Gordon asks if anything can be done to prevent what happened to Joshua and himself from happening to other people. Clark confesses he doesn’t know, and that it’s up to the developers of the game to find anything out of place and make sure it gets fixed. Gordon decides to leave the matter where it lies, not wanting anything to do with AI and simulations anymore and to safeguard his son.

Some time passes.

Joshua starts getting repeated invites and messages, at one point he gets into a conversation with ‘Ben’ via a platform’s messaging system. Ben says he can explain everything, that he’s sorry. Joshua decides he would like one final goodbye. He finds the headset stashed away somewhere in the house, and, while Gordon’s gone, he turns on the game and enters the server.

Beastrey (Ben) is surprised to see him, urging him to log out and turn off the game, but it’s already too late and Joshua can no longer leave. Beastrey helps Joshua attempting to ‘exit’ the game by going as far away from Data’s reach, but Data stops Beastrey and traps Joshua, determined to wait to the point that he assimilates into the game completely.

Gordon eventually finds Joshua comatose with the headset on, and he panics. He considers calling the emergency services, but he’s afraid they’ll take the headset off or that removing Joshua too far from the game will hurt his son like what happened to him. He calls Clark, urging him to help in any way he can. This results in Gordon and Clark going back to Black Mesa to retrieve the project files and the other gear they can get their hands on to get Gordon into the game to free his son.

Gordon enters the private server with Clark’s player character, and thwarts any attempt from Data to impede his progress and trap him as well. Beastrey’s awareness is overridden by Data as a last ditch effort to deter Gordon and Gordon is forced to destroy Beastrey before he can reach Data. As Beastrey is taken over, Data gains Beastrey’s awareness, and finds his other, littler half never wanted to trap Joshua in the first place, and the way it hurt him to hurt both Joshua and Gordon to this extent.

At this point, Data wavers in its intention to keep Joshua trapped, even more so with Beastrey now gone, and recognises whatever it is that is driving Gordon forward in the game is outside of his control to manipulate, so he lets Gordon destroy it as well. In a way, it also feels as a fulfillment of its intended role as the ‘villain’. The server crashes, the world breaks apart. The ‘game’ is completed.

The final boss is defeated and both Gordon and Joshua wake up. Joshua luckily wasn’t exposed long enough to have suffered any lasting damage, except for what seems to be a minor headache and some light sensitivity (and a vow from Gordon to get him checked out by a doctor as soon as the clinics open).

--

The whole ordeal results in Clark, Gordon and Joshua sitting in a Denny’s at four in the morning, eating pancakes somewhat solemnly, completely exhausted but also still reeling from the virtual battle. Joshua learns that ‘Ben’ essentially died, and he can’t help but cry for his friend.

“Honestly, I don’t think he’s gone,” Gordon admits, picking at the last bites of his pancakes. "I think he- or whatever that was, has a hard time staying dead. Like a cockroach, you know? At this point I’m just wondering when he’ll turn up again.”

Clark hums in agreement. Joshua seems somewhat reassured by his words, wiping at his eyes with the scratchy napkin as he settles into the squeaking diner seat.

“But,” he starts with a sigh, pointing his syrup-covered fork upwards to the ceiling in a decree, “One thing’s for certain…”

He thinks back to a time rife with virtual gunfire, caging walls and hysterical laughter echoing through the halls of the Black Mesa research facility. Five sets of footsteps and a whisper of his name.

“…No more VR. No more headsets. Ever.”

--

TL;DR: Gordon got trapped in VR and then Joshua also got trapped in VR. Benrey is there but also not.

thank you for reading. here. ( x ‿ o ) 🫴

[temptaetions]

the few things 🌠 b.cc

a/n: the photo above is from the stray kids' 5-star concept teasers. i do not own the media. this being said, i want to preface that this fic is very personal to me, and i felt that it would help me get over things faster if i wrote it. and it did. all of my fics are very personal, so i beg, please don't take them and claim them as your own. please. enjoy. thank you.

synopsis: when he knows you so well, you're like putty for him. when he loves you, when you think he hates you, and everything in between, you're putty for him.

genre: tumultuous situationship au | unrequited love | best friends to strangers | fem!reader | angst pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k | lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warnings: brief mention of appetite loss. please take care of your bodies, i love you. unrequited love/one-sided love, rejection. a lot of crying, a lot of overthinking and insecurity.

what to listen to: how high - ice spice ; is it a crime - sade ; con él - jenni rivera ; dive - luke combs ; tus desprecios - selena

being known by him pains you.

he knows you so well. from the way the light makes your eyes glow, to the chipped pedicure on your toes. he knows your ticks, what makes you jump, and which cheek you chew on when you're feeling anxious. he knows the tempo you tap your foot to when you're impatient, and which foot it is that means you're impatient. he knows how easily you swoon, for the smallest things, and how tender your emotions are. especially after fights with your parents.

he knows how to unravel you, to get you to bare your soul to him. he can get you to spill your beans by simply wrapping his arms around you, and letting his presence melt away at your coldness. he knows that just being there is enough for you, that just him existing within your own existence is enough to make you break. 

putting you back together is the hard part. he slowly had to piece everything back together, checking edges and patterns, dents and slices of your problems being scattered everywhere. he was the only one who did it well, the only one who paid attention to detail. the only one who cared enough to even unravel you in the first place.

seeing him do it for somebody else killed you inside.

granted, you and chan had tried to blossom your friendship into a relationship quite a few times. it made sense, you know? he remembered everything about you, and you made efforts no one else had made. you made the effort to soften him up. to show him not everything was set in stone, to show him that he too, could be loved. you watched movies you hated for him, you listened to songs he recommended, and you chose him. over and over, you chose him.

over your friends, over your family. at one point, you almost lost your job over choosing him.

you remember him calling you that day. it was summer. it was raining insanely hard, and he was stuck in traffic. you were worried about him, and stood outside your job waiting to see his car zoom by. your manager tried to pull you in several times, saying you were going to have to go home if you weren't inside in 10 minutes.

chan wound up picking you up, his car shielding you from the rain and his arms protecting you from the wrath of the world. you got sent home, you were soaking wet, and yet, you were so glad to see him. you remember him lightly rubbing your back, softly speaking in your ear that you couldn't jeopardize your job for him. you didn't hear a word, but 'i love you, silly girl.'

and that was the way it always was with chan. so many of your plans were canceled on a whim to talk to him, so many of your friends both envied and disliked him because your attention was always on him.��

"you've tried this relationship so many times. i will always support you, but just know that a girlfriend without the label, and without the same level of commitment is just an obsession, y/n." mina had said to you as she dipped her grilled cheese into her soup, and you sadly remember how quickly your appetite shrank. "chan loves me, mina. he wouldn't lead me on, he's the only thing i'm sure of in this life."

you never regretted being with chan, in any sense. you never felt that sense of dread when knowing plans with him were coming up, and seeing him never made you feel drained. seeing him made you feel like you were on cloud nine. hugging him and breathing him in was an addiction you never want to kick. you loved hearing songs about love and immediately thinking of him, you loved seeing something random he loved and immediately texting him about it.

you loved chan. and he assured you, he loved you.

so why did this feel different?

over the last few weeks, chan had been distant. you hadn't spoken much, and he was routinely in busan instead of seoul. he had no friends in that city, so there was no reason for him to be there, especially now since you guys were trying to jumpstart your relationship again. it seemed he was there almost every weekend, and your texts went unread (or simply, unanswered) for hours.

"hey, baby." his voice was tired, but you watched as the trees zoomed by in the window. he was driving home, from wherever the fuck he was. he only lived a few minutes from the company, so it was unlikely he was coming from work. it was also late, maybe three hours since you'd texted him last. "hey, chan. where are you?" "oh, i'm on my way home. what are you up to?" he answered far too quickly. it was rather avoidant. you scrunch your brows, sitting up on your couch. "home from where? did you work late?"

"what are you, the fbi?" he chuckles, and you hear the ticking of his turn signal. he didn't have to turn if he was going straight home from work, especially not to the left. "i'm just asking. are we still on for tomorrow?" you're picking at your nails, and he sighs.

"actually, no. i have an event at work i can't miss." he sighs, his eyes avoiding his phone. you sucked your teeth, an action not going unnoticed by him. "oh, okay. never mind, then."

you hoped he'd suggest a raincheck. you hoped he'd say, "how about thursday? we can go to dinner." or something along those lines.

"sorry."

bummer, you thought. the effort from chan had begun decreasing. he had originally been the one to ask if you could try and take the leap, one last time. you both knew that your friendship would be dead if one of you got into a relationship – no one wants to come second to their significant other's 'best friend.'

'best friends', that kiss when they're drunk. 'best friends' who have seen every inch of each other's bodies, 'best friends' who have told each other the filthiest things imaginable and have done little to hide that they yearn for the other. 

'best friends' who don't tell their friends when they're kissing each other again. when they're holding each other tightly under covers. when you're letting him tell you how pretty you are, when he's telling you that you're his. when you're letting him snake his hand under your blouse, goosebumps littering your skin.

"i'm home, i'll talk to you later. bye, baby." 

you don't even get a chance to say goodbye before he hangs up, and you feel a pool of guilt in your stomach, paired with the sting of (in your mind, unreasonable) tears. you roll your eyes, your tongue poking your cheek as the tears spill. tossing your phone to the side, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to take a deep breath.

"it's fine, y/n. he's just busy. he's just busy feeding berry. he's feeding berry, he's probably heating up dinner. he has to eat." you breathe in, a shudder wracking your body as the thoughts begin flooding in.

he's tired of me. he doesn't want to work things out this time. he just wanted to have fun. this is not about love for him.

you curl in on yourself, letting the sobs take over as you let the thoughts flow.

why did he start this again if he didn't actually love me? oh god, what if he has someone else? what if he has someone else entertaining him, holding his attention? what if he's not playing hard to get, i'm just playing hard to get rid of? 

"oh, god." 

you don't understand why you're crying. he hasn't even said anything about not loving you, or not appreciating you. he never said anything about just wanting to have fun, or having another girl waiting for his love.

but subconsciously, you knew a part of him would never tell you. he knew you, he knew how you worked. he knew you'd compare yourself - from creases on your forehead to the stubble on your legs. you knew you'd wonder what they had that you didn't, whether it was sharing his love of marvel movies or simply being a person who can carry conversation better than you could because they could sense something in him you couldn't after years of knowing him.

but if there was anything you were sure of, it was him. you wanted him, all of him, forever. you'd loved him, for many years. and in years past, you'd yearned for him, but never, ever like this. you craved his presence. you craved his attention, his love, his fucking scent, for fuck's sake.

you buried your face in your couch cushion, letting a sob get muffled. oh god. if he's not the one, after all of this? god, remove him. take him away. i can't keep doing this.

it was two in the morning and you couldn't sleep, the crying session from earlier having lasted far longer than you had anticipated. you even let mina come over and comfort you before she passed out on your couch because she had worked a double shift. you clutched your phone in your hand as your swollen eyes stared at the conversation you'd attempted to have with bang chan.

message to: channie 💘

[9:30pm] can we call? 10 minutes.

message from: channie 💘

[10:11pm] why?

message to: channie 💘

[10:20pm] i just miss your voice.

message from: channie 💘

[10:30pm] i'm really tired.

message to: channie 💘

[10:47pm] tomorrow, then? (read: 11:59pm)

chan hadn't spoken to you all day. it was well past lunchtime for you, and he usually had a lull at work at this hour. he usually called for a quick check-in, a chat about music, or whatever was on his mind at the moment. you loved seeing him in work mode, or how quickly he straightened his posture if a coworker acknowledged his presence. mina was sitting at your table, awaiting her breakfast-for-lunch grand cuisine.

"any man who can go twenty-four hours without talking to you, is not the man for you. anyone who loves you, would not put themselves in a position to lose you." mina said as you put a plate of eggs under her nose, her hand reaching for the hot sauce. "it hasn't even been twenty-four hours, mina. he'll come around. he always does, he's channie." "you ever consider there might be someone else calling him that? calling him baby? telling people he's the love of their life, and he might actually be?" she says, her eyes looking at you bluntly as you let the steam of your oatmeal hit your face. your eyes were still insanely swollen, and you had called in from your job to recover. you turned on your ringer, hoping you'd hear the bump bump of his text tone.

"i'm just saying, honey. don't put all your eggs in one basket." she licks her thumb of stray hot sauce, and you just sigh, pushing your oatmeal away, your stomach now full of unease.

it's been twenty-four hours. or, almost twenty-two.

he still hasn't messaged you, called you, or swung by. his instagram story was blank except for the selfie he took in the mirror at work, captioned mondays. 

message to: channie 💘

[9:22pm] hey! we haven't spoken in a bit. where's your head at? lmk, call or text <3

you stare at the text patiently, hoping you'll see read: 9:22pm. you're hoping you'll see the chat bubbles pop up. you're hoping he'll call, or swing by. but he won't, you know he won't.

it pains you to know him.

you couldn't sleep. you were used to chan holding you close to him. you were used to his calloused hand holding yours tightly, and holding it to your chest like it was your favorite thing in the world. but it was like holding onto something when it's not right. it felt good, it felt almost perfect, but it didn't feel the way it did this time.

things he said swirled in your head as you tucked your arm under your pillow, your shirt crumpling under you. you slept on your stomach, chan was a back sleeper. you remember his judgment of it, saying you would be a deer caught in headlights if someone were to break in. you remember laughing, saying that that was what he was for.

you remember asking him if he'd ever be tired of you, if he ever thought this cycle of trying and giving up would be done. he reassured you, that without a shadow of a doubt, you would never be done. you remember thinking he was the moon that night, and that you'd never want to lose him by counting the stars.

but it seems he was doing just that.

you'd called out from work again.

it was well past lunch time for you. almost four hours.

and you were glued to your bed, eyes rereading the message he sent.

message from: channie 💘

[2:48pm] hey, y/n. i think…we should just be friends. i don't want to do this anymore. we've tried this time and time again and it doesn't seem to work. maybe it's for the better that it doesn't. i didn't realize i felt this way until i went to busan last week. i feel better now. i hope you understand.

you couldn't stop reading it. your eyes scanned the screen, hoping you'd read it wrong. hoping somewhere, there was a subliminal message. hoping this feeling of feeling used would leave, this feeling of feeling stupid. you knew things that started fast, and it would end faster. you ignored all the warning signs. you ignored all your friends.

you wanted so desperately for this to work.

you wanted so desperately for him to love you back.

but you would never beg. no, you'd never beg for a man to love you.

staring at the message through blurry eyes, you held it down, your finger pressing the thumbs up reaction.

message to: bang chan

[6:30pm] you liked 'hey, y/n. i think…we should just be friends. i don't want to do this anymore. we've tried this time and time again and it doesn't seem to work. maybe it's for the better that it doesn't. i didn't realize i felt this way until i went to busan last week. i feel better now. i hope you understand.'

you put your phone down on your nightstand, forcing your back to leave the mattress. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror – your hair was tangled, and face was swollen. sighing, you rubbed at your eyes harshly, basking in the discomfort of their dryness.

this time, you were done. you were absolutely done.

you were tired. you knew this was a two-person deal, but this time, it felt like you were making ends meet. you were practically praying to make it work, you were reaching further and further for someone who did not want to be touched. you were giving him access to your heart, your body, your mind without any commitment.

it feels selfish, to be done when he's the one who has suffered in the past. it feels incredibly selfish to yearn for him now, when you failed to love him the way he wanted in the past. at least you're self-aware.

and it all rang in your head, once more.

a girlfriend without the label, and without the same level of commitment is just an obsession, y/n.

he's the only thing i'm sure of in this life.

without a shadow of a doubt, you would never be done.

you remember thinking he was the moon that night, and that you'd never want to lose him by counting the stars.

this time, it is him who is losing the moon, counting the stars.

being known by him pains you.

he knew you so well. from the way the light made your eyes glow, to the chipped pedicure on your toes. he knew your ticks, what made you jump, which cheek you chewed on when you would feel anxious. he knew the tempo you tapped your foot to when you were impatient, and which foot it was that meant you were impatient. he knew how easily you swooned, for the smallest things, and how tender your emotions were. especially after fights with your parents.

he knew how to unravel you, to get you to bare your soul to him. he could get you to spill your beans by simply wrapping his arms around you, and letting his presence melt away at your coldness. he knew that just being there was enough for you, that just existing within your own existence was enough to make you break.

putting you back together was the hard part, but it wasn’t his job anymore. he slowly used to piece everything back together, checking edges and patterns, dents and slices of your problems being scattered everywhere. he was the only one who did it well, the only one who paid attention to detail. the only one who cared enough to even unravel you in the first place, even if for his own benefit.

seeing him do it for somebody else killed you inside.

if you had been sure of anything in this life, one of the few things, it was him.

but he did not want you anymore. if he did, to begin with, this time around. and that’s okay. you’ll be fine. you’ll be fine.

temptaetions © 2023-2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[siriannatan]

Scratches, Tattoos and Red Roses

I remembered I once wrote a similar one shot, re-read it, and decided to try writing a longer fic. Might be more than 3 chapters but that's the plan for the moment.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55860592/chapters/141836842

Jimmy was an absolute mess. He knew it but couldn't be bothered as he knelt on the living room floor. Sobbing uncontrollably over a tangled mess of bandages. Sweater he bought in a hurry due to rain was long forgotten by the door but the damage it caused to his arms was still there. Long angry, red lines five minutes off from bleeding.

Not that he cared as he scratched his neck. He was far too upset to care about anything. What was he supposed to say to Scott and fWhip when they're back? He couldn't tell them what happened at his outing with his brothers. Not after he insisted on going after they tried to convince him it was a bad idea. It was actually a terrible idea.

He was so busy feeling bad for himself and crying he didn't realize Scott was home until all he could see was his perfectly white button up. “Hush, it's all okay, I'm home, will fix your arms in just a second,” Scott said gently as he cradled Jimmy. Who just cried harder, grabbing at Scott's shirt. “Let it all out, don't worry about my stupid shirt,” Scott chuckled as Jimmy tried to pull back once he realized he was likely running one of Scott's work shirts.

“But…” Jimmy started but got gently shushed.

“No buts, I got more,” Scott shook his head. Jimmy felt it more than saw it. “I'll check if…”

“I'm hom… oh my god, Jimmy are you okay?” fWhip said as soon as he walked in. Soaked from driving a motorbike in the rain.

“Better now,” Jimmy nodded, sitting back to let Scott look over his arms. “I kind of stormed out of the coffee shop and forgot my sweater…” he gave the simplest explanation. He didn't want to give any more details if he could help it.

Scott nodded. “fWhip dear, please go shower before you catch something,” he told fWhip with a stern look.

fWhip sighed. “Fine, but I'm making dinner, you'll need to get out of the suit eventually, no?”

Scott agreed so after giving both Jimmy and Scott a kiss fWhip went upstairs to shower and change.

Jimmy watched in silence, after taking his shirt off, as Scott gently cleaned his arms and neck with disinfectant before applying spray to calm the rashes. “What did they do this time?” Scott asked as he moved to the bandages.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Jimmy tried to avoid the topic but Scott just gave him a stern look. He really wanted to know.

“Should I call Lizzie so she can grill Joel about it?” He asked and Jimmy sighed. There was no doubt Scott would do it.

“They tried to set me up on a date with some friend of Grian, I told them I'm perfectly happy with you and stormed off,” Jimmy shrugged. His oh so lovely brothers had no clue about fWhip. “I'm fine now, no hate on the guy, he had no clue I was seeing anyone,” he quickly added before Scott could ask who.

“Who was it?” fWhip asked as he walked down the stairs. “A co-worker was out longer for lunch, and then said something about a messed up blind date,” he added, arms crossed over his chest. “And fresh shirt,” he added as Scott finished the bandages with tiny kisses to Jimmy's wrists.

“Tango,” Jimmy admitted with a sigh. How many other blind dates could have happened today? “But it's not his fault, he had no clue I'm taken, please don't be mean to him.”

“Just for you I won't,” fWhip sighed. “I think I avoided Gem enough, we should just date officially,” he offered as Scott was about to go change.

“Are you sure? You always said she's… a bit protective,” Scott asked, just to be sure.

“Her protectiveness goes the other way to Grian and Joel's so it'll be all fine, she'll love you both,” fWhip assured as he helped Jimmy stand up. “Go change CEO-boy,” he chuckled and Scott went upstairs with a chuckle, and all the medical supplies.

Jimmy smiled at the idea but didn't say anything, just yawned. “Can I help in ANY way?” He asked as he followed fWhip to the kitchen despite being told to just sit on the couch.

“Be pretty?” fWhip grinned as he pulled out some leftover he planned to repurpose with some wraps. “Fine, you can make tea and set the table,” he quickly bed under Jimmy's pout.

Jimmy gladly did that even if he wished he was trusted doing more than reheating leftovers when his boyfriends were at work. He just got rashes and bruises easily. He could cook. Well… Scott and fWhip did cook pretty well too. Maybe one day he could surprise them?

“You two spoil me too much,” Jimmy complained once he ran out of things fWhip would let him help with.

“I'd say we don't spoil you enough if you still want to help,” Scott announced he's back. In plain white t-shirt and light blue shorts. Jimmy pouted at him.

“You do remember that I'm perfectly capable of cooking?” He grumbled, and gave Scott an unimpressed side eye.

Scott nodded in agreement as fWhip announced dinner was ready. Jimmy ate mostly in silence as fWhip and Scott planned a shopping list. Their fridge was almost empty. Luckily they both had a day off on Saturday so all three of them could go grocery shopping together. And to pick up more bandages and Jimmy's prescription.

“Did you remember to take a day off on Tuesday for the optometrist appointment?” Jimmy asked fWhip. He only made an appointment because Jimmy bothered him about it.

“I did, don't worry,” fWhip rolled his eyes but did smile. Jimmy nodded with a huff before another sip of his juice.

“I'm sure you'll look cute in glasses,” Scott tried to lift fWhip's mood. “While we're at appointments, we're still good on Friday?” Scott was talking to fWhip about getting a tattoo done by him for weeks now. Sadly Jimmy couldn't get one due to his condition but fully supported his boyfriends.

“Of course. Would you like to come along?” fWhip asked Jimmy. “Hold Scott's hand and stuff,” he chuckled, grimacing as Scott kicked him under the table.

“Umm… would Tango be around? O don't blame him for anything just…” Jimmy mumbled nervously.

“I think he's working then, but I can ask him, I promise I'll be nice, to not go to the lobby when you two arrive?” fWhip offered.

“No need I'll be fine,I just wanted to know to, you know, prepare myself mentally,” Jimmy shook his head but had a feeling fWhip would be talking to Tango.

“Mhm… oh wait. There's a chance I'll need to be at the studio on Tuesday, just a couple hours to cover for Cleo,” fWhip suddenly remembered and pulled his phone out to scroll for a particular message. “I'll be off before the appointment, I promise.”

“I can drive you in the morning,” Jimmy didn't protest at all. He was kind of excited to be recognised not only as Scott's boyfriend but also fWhip's.

“Aww, you two are going to have a cute date while I'll be stuck at the office, not fair,” Scott faked a pout.

“We'll get you a souvenir,” Jimmy chuckled. And they say he's the cute one.

Scott laughed at that and requested a cake. Jimmy was more than okay with a cake. If he could get fWhip in on his plan then even better.

When Jimmy woke up the next morning, finally fully rested and relaxed, it was just him and still sleeping fWhip. Scott must have been out jogging. Good for him, Jimmy thought as he glared at the new red marks on his arms. There were no doubt more hidden by the sheets. He just sighed and hugged fWhip. It wasn't that bad. In the past he'd wake up with bloodied sheets.

“Hmm, mornin’,” fWhip murmured into Jimmy's shirt. His morning voice was pretty nice. Heavy and gravely. Jimmy was only willing to share it with Scott. Not that he was often long enough in bed to hear it. “Sleep well?” He asked and yawned.

“Morning to you too, I slept great, would be even nicer if someone was here to cuddle with us,” Jimmy sighed in faked disappointment. Mostly faked. He understood why Scott was so set on keeping his exercise regiment but still sometimes wishes he'd stay in bed longer.

He could faintly hear the front door open and close. Scott was back. “We should get up,” fWhip sighed and sat up. Jimmy allowed himself a moment to marvel at the ink lines of the roses on fWhip's arms and surrounding the rib cage perfectly matching his, shift and move as fWhip did. “Should I carry you downstairs?” fWhip chuckled.

“I don't know, maybe?” Jimmy grinned. Scott wouldn't be too happy but it'd be fun. And it wasn't like he believed fWhip would do it.

Not that he got a chance to. “Aren't you two cute,” Scott chuckled as he saw Jimmy draped over fWhip. Both still in bed.

“You could be cute with us from time to time, you knoooow,” fWhip’s pretend hurt dissolved into a yawn. “Come on, Jim, breakfast and then shower,” he said while gently patting Jimmy's thigh. He just mumbles something between yawns but did follow fWhip downstairs as Scott showered first.

fWhip made them pancakes. From Scott's homemade mix. Jimmy made their coffee, humming along to the radio playing quietly in the background between yawns.

Breakfast and a shower followed by Scott redoing the bandages woke Jimmy up somewhat. “How's work?” He asked, watching Scott's fingers deftly work with the bandage.

“Good, few clients are being difficult and complain about everything but we got them handled,” Scott hummed looking up for a second. “Something bothering you?”

“No, just… curious. Don't you sometimes miss not being the guy in charge?”

“Not really, I don't have to listen to clients complain, just filter some emails that should have been sent to a different department,” Scott shrugged. Jimmy smiled. He liked seeing his boyfriends be happy. “What about you? Are you bored while we're at work?”

Jimmy hummed. “Not really, I know how to keep busy. Like do some light cleaning, laundry and stuff. Nothing that would irritate my skin but… I'm happy if that's what you're wondering,” he smiled and stole a kiss.

“Wow, I think I'll melt from the cuteness,” fWhip was back from the shower with a grin. “What got you two so clingy?”

“Nothing, I just love you two a lot,” Jimmy grinned at him.

“All done,” Scott announced and passed Jimmy a shirt. He dutifully got it on, followed by a cardigan. All picked out by Scott.

“If you ever get bored of being CEO and architecture you could try fashion,” Jimmy mused with fWhip nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, yeah, but for now we have places to be,” Scott rolled his eyes but a fond smile was tugging on his lips.

[alan-in-the-outernet]

So many people would be grilling him for details about it.

"How did you make it there?"

"I was allowed to"

"could any of us go there with requests?"

"Don't do that!"

"why were you allowed to but we aren't?"

"I don't want to answer that."

"What is that supposed to mean???"

"were we right about the glitch at all?"

"Unfortunately yes"

"excuse me?? What does that mean?"

"what's it like being god's specialist little guy?/j"

"please don't say that."

"wait- what?!? I was joking! I did not mean for that to be serious! what happened..."

"I'd rather not talk about it"

"What did you have to do to convince Noogai to bring them back? Did you just have to prove yourself with the journey of was there more to it than that? You mentioned that the character creation glitch was involved. Is that why Noogai was willing to do what you asked?"

"You know what? Fine! Since everyone keeps asking, I'll tell you because apparently I'm not allowed to keep anything to myself without a bunch of people being nosey about it! I journeyed there. My first sign that something was up should've been how suspiciously simple it was. As if the world itself was guiding me there. Because apparently that's literally what happened! And when I got there it was waiting for me. You want to know what that glitch caused? It thought I was literally part of it for some reason! Like a fragment that had been torn off of it. It refused to believe me when I said that that was just a glitch because it was so certain it was right! So what did it want to do about it? MERGE! Do you have any idea how terrifying that is?! But it promised to resurrect the king and the princes if I did. That's what I went there for. Did you know that getting absorbed by a higher being over a misunderstanding is terrifying? My mind was being unravelled as of my memories and such were taken and my avatar was disintegrated into code swirling into it. And then everything was dark until it revived me after realizing it's mistake and that I really was telling the truth about being human. I'll never be the same again after that, but it still accomplished what I set out to do so let's not think about it okay? Leave me alone!"

Anyways that definitely has a big impact on the community. Because how do you respond to the fact that this guy literally got absorbed by a god that thought he was a part of it. Everyone definitely does feel bad about pressuring him so much to share, though it's not like anyone could've guessed that this is what happened while he was there.

OOf... yeah... artist guy actually was god's specialist boy but in a BAD way and now he's gone through trauma but at least he got his friends back but people won't stop BUGGING him about it all and won't stop BRINGING IT UP and REMINDING HIM and now things feel off and wrong and he can't FORGET...

...He just.. wants to be with his family and friends... doesn't want to think about THAT...

[il-y-a-trop-des-regles]

tw 3d rant:

im actually going to drop k1ck my head of year WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOURE EMAILING ALL MY TEACHERS TO GET THEM TO KEEP AN EYE ON ME? WHAT THE ACTUAL F-

basically, I have low BP, like it's a genetic condition I've had my whole entire life and im a very easy fainter. one of my teachers was concerned that I'm lately alot more dizzy lately than usual, and that I can't walk straight, etc (amazing teacher, love her). She tried to apply for me to get a medical class exit card, which basically means no teacher can deny me from leaving the classroom, it's kinda like a get out of jail free card.

anyways, 2 weeks after this, ive already accepted that im not getting my get out of jail free card, I get called in by my head of year and she is trying to find the 'root of my problem' because 'there must be a reason it's getting worse, because it doesn't make sense otherwise' YOU ARE A TEACHER, NOT A DOCTOR DUDE 😭. anyways, she started asking me if I 3at, my stomach DROPPED, but ofc I said yes because I do not plan of r3c0v3ry anytime soon (I'm pro r3c0v3ry don't get me wrong, but I genuinely just can't right now), and then she asked me wieiad and told me to give her a whole run down, and when I got to lunch she said to me 'I can check your canteen balance and I'll call your mum after this conversation' so I couldn't say I ate something from home, or say I got food from the canteen. LUCKILY, I managed to think something up, and said I was really preoccupied running a club (which I actually was) that I completely forgot about lunch, and I said I know it sounds bad but its not often that I do forget. and she said 'I just don't believe you' SORRY DUDE WHAT? and then she starts grilling me about my eating habits like please GIVE IT A REST.

long story short, she's emailing ALL of my teachers to keep an eye on me and report back to her if anything happens with me, which is really sad. oh and I have to do weekly wellbeing checkups.

I don't get what they're trying to achieve with this, I mean I guess it makes me feel slightly more valid in my d1s0rd3r that people are accusing me of it, but that's it.

main problem, I'm not a teachers pet by any means, but I am relatively close with some of my teachers and I JUST KNOW that they will bring it up or keep me after class (for context, I was m0l3sted by a teacher at my skl, but no one ever found out because he was the vice headteacher and if i were to report the situation, i would have to go to him, and that would not be successful whatsoever, and he would always make weird excuses to keep me after class and he'd t0uch my hair, grab the back of my neck, put his hands down the back of my shirt, etc, and so I have a crazy fear of staying after class 😭) and now I'm scared that im going to be kept for so many after class talks (and 3/5 of the teachers I'm close with are male) and I don't want them to figure out that I went through something.

SPECIFICALLY MY PSYCHOLOGY TEACHER BC I SWEAR HE IS SO ATTENTIVE TO DETAIL, he spent the first 6 months that he taught me just keeping me after class to ask me about my mental health, but then he'd just end up talking about how much he hated his ex gf and I found it super odd that he would only talk to me about her (keep in mind he was a new teacher at the time, and he did this from like the second week that id known him), but over time he became slightly more normal (on the very first lesson, he did come up to me and said that he could already make a really good judge of my character because of my pencil case 🤨 which was odd - so it's just at the beginning of his teaching, but he always sits me at the front so we are semi close, but GRRR I HATE MY HEAD OF HOUSE

Ps: sorry this 3d rant kinda became a 'my school is filled with strange teavhers talk 😭

[sofiiel]

Dial Tone Ch. 7 | Pick Up

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You're worn out both mentally and physically by the time you decided it was time to take a break. Relatively sure that you'd covered main street and downtown in the flyers.

Everyone in town is on edge, and no one seemed to wander about alone. For a moment, you swear you spotted a couple strolling down the street give your flyer a glance.

"Hey,"

The voice that called, and the hand that grasped your arm, caused you a mild fright. Your body jolts slightly while Axel peered around. "We need to get you out of here, like pronto." He said.

"Why? I still have to get the other side of the str-"

"Trust me, you've plastered enough of those flyers 'round here, missing one side of a street won't matter." Axel spoke quickly. "Every flyer counts." You snapped.

Axel grimaced, "yeah that's fine, but we're getting you out of here." he said, You watched him take up your bike and mount it. "Up on the handle bars." He said.

"I'm not sitting on the bars of my own bike." You muttered, with a flat unamused gaze you asked him, "What are you doing, and why?"

Axel rolled his eyes, "Kal heard the little douch prince was on the hunt for.... Louis? Luke? Something about a lie, and in turn - he's mad at you for following through with that lie yesterday." Axel said.

"Lucas?" You questioned, "Jason knows Lucas was a member of Hellfire now? H-how'd he?"

Axel scowled, "Does it look like I'd know details? We still need you to help us hunt down Henderson. So Kali sent help." He gave the handle bars a pat. "All aboard."

"I'm fine, Jason won't do anything." You reasoned. "Please, the guy's off his rocker." Axel scoffed. "Get off my bike, I have more flyers to post." You said, continuing to ignore him. Axel's brows raised, "You're not worried about a band of wannabe renegade town heroes seeking revenge?" He asked.

"I'm already living a nightmare, I helped send a girl to her death, and my boyf-" you sighed, it still wasn't settling in, "exboyfiend possibly right along with her, unless someone finds him. I don't wholly know if I want anyone else to find him because, I think everyone's already made up their mind. But to not find him would mean..." Your voice failed you as you swallowed back the words.

Axel's gaze slowly shifted away from you as he grimaced. A faint reflection of sadness in is eyes as he climbed off the Bike. "I get it." He sighed, holding the bike steady while you climbed on.

"Go on then," he sighed, but a smirk placed itself onto Axel's face. "Just don't go get yourself in trouble, It'll be my ass if we lose our way to tracking down Kal's sister." He said.

You gave Axel a faint nod, "sure." Axel took a few flyers from you, his head tilting as he examined Eddie's picture. With a chuckle, he turned the flyer around to show you. "It's a good picture." he said.

Your brow dipped down in question, "are you trying to be nice to me?" You asked. Axel scoffed, "No, I'm just tired to that pitiful look on your face, you're a bit of a buzzkill." Axel said. You watched him turn on his heel and walk away. "Don't say we didn't warn you when you run into princy!" He called back.

Eddie was quickly going stir-crazy, waiting for the others to return. Being alone in the quiet left time for worry and the quiet thoughts that used to be easy to push away.

"I wonder how the boys are doing through all of this." Eddie's mind wondered. I could picture Corroded Coffin playing in the garage and himself right along with them. He could also picture them sitting at the police station being grilled under some bright light in a dark room.

"No, think of something else." Eddie sighed, and his mind said, "gladly." but it was nothing short of a dirty trick as his memory carried him to a night in the back of his van. It was summer, but that's not why he was covered in sweat.

Eddie's breath hitched as he shook his head, your eyes cutting through a memory of a one-night stand. One of many he'd ventured into the previous year. Guilt fell into his stomach like a stone. Exhaling slowly, Eddie collapsed back onto the small sofa.

"If I get out of this shit, I'm going to clean up, Y/n. I promise, and I'm coming to you, babe. Brand fucking new." Eddie murmured. "Truth is, she/he wasn't the only one freaking out inside." Eddie thought. The slow close of high school felt like a ticking bomb, and he'd been running from it and everything that would pull him closer to it.

He could still see your face, He could see you talking to the stranger in front of your second job. Eddie felt ill just thinking about how he reacted. "It's something you would have done." He told himself. "Not Y/n."

"You've got to stop jumping from zero to nine thousand so fast." Eddie sighed.

Returning home, you're greeted by a note on the counter.

Hey kid, police wanted to ask more questions, going back to the trailer afterward to go pick up some things and wait it out. Who knows, maybe Eddie'll come home, maybe he's waiting at the door and no one's home. I'll be waiting a while. Just letting you know, so you won't panic and don't wait up. If you want, come on down and wait with me.

You frown slightly as you read through the note. "I should probably go down there and sit with him. He went back because he's hopeful. But I-" Your body shuddered.

"I can't set foot in there, not with things as they are." You gave a flat, bitter chuckle, "and it used to be home away from home."

With a frustrate groan, you pinch your nose and exhale, "but you need to be there for each other. Wayne's family." You told yourself. Setting down the note, you turn around to leave the house once again.

Ridding your bike up to the Munson home, your stomach sank. Your eyes quickly shifted between the cluster of people in pressed suits. Not only was the door marked in yellow tape, but it now included the windows.

The trunk of Wayne's slammed, his eyes trained on you and the growing panic on your face as you turned to him. "What happened?" You asked quickly, peddling toward him. "Easy," he lulled as if to calm you, but it went unheard.

"I-is that FBI?" You stammered. Wayne looked back toward the house, "uh..." Wayne couldn't bring himself to tell you yes. "Are you Ms/Mr. Y/ln?" A woman in a gray suit asked you. You turn to her stiffly, "yes."

"Mr. Munson tells us he will be staying with you while the investigation is ongoing. We will be providing your security detail around your home." The woman said.

Your face became lax as the warmth faded from your cheeks, "What?" You asked. "That's not necessary, I'll be just fine." you said.

"If FBI is patrolling my block, Eddie won't set foot near it." You thought, glancing at Wayne, who seemed to be thinking the very same thing. "I'm sorry, but it's in your best interest and the best interest of the investigation." said the woman.

You rubbed your eye in frustration, "fine, right. Whatever." you sighed.

"The Cunningham's are hosting a memorial service, The whole town's going. I'm going to be busy moving my things. I hate to ask, but, Would you go in my place?" Wayne asked you.

"I...why? They aren't going to do anything but tear Eddie apart there." You said.

"What's why one of us should be there. Show that those of us In his corner are just as sorry about what happened to that poor girl as everyone else." Wayne reasoned.

You give a quiet nod, "yes, of course." You force a smile onto your face, and Wayne gave a tired smile in return. "There is no way they're going to let me in there." You thought to yourself.

"Hello? Anyone?" Eddie called into the walkie, it'd been hours since he'd made his request of food and a six-pack to Nancy. The Spaghetti O's and hot dogs were enough to fill him up, but not enough to stop his nerves, to cut the edge.

Eddie had already tried to dig up Rick's secret stash, but couldn't find it. If the story was true and the man was really in prison, it would stand to reason the stash was gone too.

"Can I get an update? It's been hours, and I'm just a bit concerned." Eddie sang into the walkie. "You know, being left in the dark when crazy evil wizards are about."

"I mean, beggars and choosers, but a little communication would be-"

"Jesus, do you ever shut up, you're wasting battery life, man." Steve sighed through the other side. Eddie exhaled, "Nope." Eddie said simply, "and the battery life is fine. But Henderson on."

"We're, ugh, kind of busy, things have happened. We're working on getting you your stuff. It's just gonna be a while longer." said Steve.

Eddie folded his arms across his chest, holding the walkie close, he asked, "w-what things?" Eddie asked. Steve looked up at the towering Mansion outside the car. "uuuuhhh." he hummed.

"You're going to freak him out! Give it here!" Dustin hissed, snatching the walkie from Steve. "Um Y/n, right. Y/n's...ugh..." Dustin fumbled.

"On defense." Lucas called out.

"Y-yeah, she/he um...kind of attacked Jason Carver the other day. We've caught up with Lucas, and he saw the whole thing." Dustin said. "Gareth, Jeff and Nick are fine, by the way." Lucas shouted out.

Eddie blinked several times as he gazed at the walkie. "....that's the things?" He asked. "You Didn't tell her/him anything? Did you Henderson?" Eddie asked.

"No, of course not." Dustin said. Eddie exhaled, "Why?" Eddie asked.

"Because you threw a fit about us keeping everything quiet, what do you mean why?" Dustin asked. "No, I mean why did Y/n attack Carver?" Eddie said in a sigh. "Jesus, you're an idiot, sometimes, Henderson." He thought.

"He might have assaulted the guys, looking for you. Not sure why Y/n was there." Dustin said. "But there are like flyers of you everywhere." Robin said in a chuckle. "Like tens of them every fifteen feet around town." she said.

For a moment, a smile ticked onto Eddie's face. "You might need to say something to the girl/guy before she/he starts burning down buildings to send a smoke signal for you." Steve said in a dry snicker.

Eddie could feel a fluttering in his chest, "My uncle should be able to keep Y/n simmered down." he said, trying to shake the giddy hopefulness nestling inside. "I'm with Steve, You should let us reach out for you. At least tell her/him, you're alright. It's taking a toll, bring back old memories, Y/n's...terrified beyond the front she/he's putting up." Nancy chimed in.

Biting his lip, Eddie fell silent. Lucas spoke up, "I think it's better she/he doesn't know. How could anyone explain this? Y/n would dive right in and probably drag as many people in with her/him. Jeff, Gareth, Nick, Wayne - anyone she/he could. Thinking it was helpful, but-"

Max gave a nod and interrupted Lucas, "It would do more harm than good, put more lives at risk. And with what we found out about Vecna..." She murmured, her eyes wandered across the group crammed into the car.

Nancy exhaled, "Y/n's got enough past trauma to be a target. I...didn't think about that." she said quietly.

Eddie felt pins and needles in his fingers and toes, "exactly why, I said it's a bad idea. I know how she/he is. I know full damn well, Y/n's likely at wits end. It's just who she/he is. But...this is better." Eddie said. In his ears rung the horrifying sounds of bones snapping, it was enough to bring water to Eddie's eyes as he pawed away the few stray tears threatening to fall.

It was impossible to unsee Chrissy's face, the rolled back eyes, dead eyes and then, no eyes. Empty sockets bleeding as if sobbing, She never made a sound, but it looked agonizing. Watching was agonizing, and so was the memory.

Eddie clenched his fist, "Y/n wouldn't let me three inches near anything as screwed up as all of this." Eddie sighed, "So now, I need to do the same for her/him."

Eddie glanced off, "I'll leave you guys to it. Just please, six-pack. Need it, like....yesterday. At this point." Eddie murmured.

The group in the car glanced at each other, each with sympathy on their face, as they listened to the dejected strain in his voice. "um, is there anything else you need?" Dustin asked gently. Eddie lingered quietly on the other end, saying with a shake of his head, "no, man. I'm good on just that and the food." He said.

"You sure?" Robin asked. "Positive, now get going with whatever." Eddie urged before turning off the walkie.

After changing clothing into something a bit more somber, You made your way to Chrissy's memorial service. Only to be faced with a few members of the basketball team at the church doors.

"Look, I'm only here to give my condolences, and Wayne Munson sent me to give his as well. He's currently hold up with things involving the murder investigation." You explained.

"You mean he's busy hiding the freak. Chrissy wouldn't want you here." called Chance.

A thin, sour smirk stretch across Andy's face as he peered down at you from the steps. "You should be thanking us, If Jason knew you'd had the brass to show up here." Andy said.

Your eyes narrow, "I know what it's like to lose people, stooges. I am here just to pay respects." You said, battling your inner thoughts to keep calm.

"Great, well do it from out here. Come on Chance." Andy said, turning and entering the church.

"Shit." You sighed, watching the boys vanish through large church doors. "Oh well," you muttered, reaching into your messenger bag. "At least I wore comfortable shoes, time to get a few more of these up around town."

"Harvey, I put up one in the bathrooms, and up in the shop!" You called exiting the auto store portion of Thatcher's. Entering the garage, as you looked towards Harvey, you spotted him and your co-worker working on the totaled white van.

Leaning casually against the wall was Axel, while Kali and Mick sat on the hood of the rust bucket Harvey lent them.

Both girls looked at you with slight worry in their eyes as you were draped head to toe in black, while Axel whistled with a grin. "Looking fancy there, brat." he called.

"Shut up Axel." Mick scolded, "Is everything," Kali paused, "You're dressed for a funeral, your friend did they find him?" She asked with caution. You looked down at yourself, "I-"

"She/he'd be bawling over the grave like a bad soap opera." Axel said, gesturing to you with his arms. You scowled, "Thanks for the concern." you barked at him before turning your attention to Kali and Mick.

"I went to the memorial of the girl who died. Eddie's still...out there. I just got rejected at the church doors and figured I'd spread some more flyers about before getting out of these clothes." You explained.

Kali gave a nod, "well when Harvey gets the van fixed we're leaving. It seems this Dustin is harder to find than any of us thought." She sighed. "I'm sorry," You said, "But thank you for what help you've given me, I wish I could make it up to you better."

Kali blinked a few times, "We understand what you're going through. I hope your friend is ok." She said. Her face was clearly trying to mask pain that her eyes just couldn't hide. It was something like the look that Axel held earlier.

Your eyes wander to him as he focused on a screw he rolled about with his boot. "I wonder what happened to them." You find yourself thinking, glancing at the bullet riddled van.

With more flyers up and feet aching, you return home. Quietly closing the door behind you and locking it tight. "Wayne's probably gone to work by now." You sighed, your feet carrying you to your bedroom with great protest.

Looking at your phone, your eyes light up, and your heart gives a hard thump. Blinking brightly was the little red voicemail light. The air rushes into your lungs, filling them up. In your hurry to reach the phone, you nearly fall over the random articles of clothing and slip on flyers laying on the floor. Your room is a mess.

Clutching the phone so tightly the skin on your knuckles stretches and burns, you go into your messages. "You have one, Voice mail." said the automated woman.

"Where are you at!"

Hearing Samantha's voice knocked the wind out of you. Your body deflating like a hot air balloon without a flame. Closing your eyes, you sigh as you fight off the tears that want to well. "Stupid." you think to yourself.

"I've been trying to call you all evening, to warn you. I overheard Jason and his boys at the funeral. Y/n he knows about Reefer Rick's cabin, he and guys went there-"

You don't have it in you to listen. You didn't want to hear more about Jason's rampage, and in your high hopes had broken your own heart. You saved the message, "I'll listen to it later." You murmur, laying down on your bed. A few tears slip loose as you nestle your head against your arm and let the mental drain take hold.

Your eyes become heavy as they watch the phone. Mustering the last bits of energy you had, you reached out and hit speed dial. No answer, but you weren't expecting one, it was just the need to hear him. "Hey, I know I already called. But, I just wanted to let you know, Wayne and I tried to show up to Chrissy's funeral for you. They wouldn't let me in. They're the Cunningham's, though so, it was probably really nice. Looked like half the town showed up."

Your words hitched as you drew your teeth out of your bottom lip. " I know I didn't technically officially go because I never went in, but," with a trembled breath, your voice fell into a whisper, "Please, please don't make me go to another funeral." you pled. Sleep took you the moment the words faded.

Several hours later, you awoke to a constant banging at your front door. "Shit, hold on." You shouted groggily, "better not be Carver." you whispered.

Opening the front door, you were faced with two frantic faces. "Pj? Sam?" you questioned. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?" Samantha asked.

"I...fell asleep, and I was out posting flyers all day." You explained, "Wh-why are you looking like that?"

"Jason and the guys were looking around Rick's place. Pj and I were headed back home from coin laundry and saw sirens headed towards the lake." Samantha said.

Grabbing the keys from the hook, you rush out the door and lock it behind you. "Can you take me there?" you asked, turning to Pj. "What's why we're here." He said, leading the way to the car.

Pj parked away from the police cars in the shadows of the woods. The three of you raced towards the old lake house, red and blue lights flooded the area. Your heart sank as you spotted officer Daniels and Chief Powell standing near Jason, who sat near the banks of the lake.

In an instant you could remember cradling Fred in the middle of the road, the horror of what you were looking at, and how the twisted bones felt in your arms. "You didn't know the kid personally." You thought, "who's Jason holding?" was the question in your mind.

Carefully walking towards them, Pj and Samantha following behind you. Powell and Daniels turn quickly as you startle them. "You kids shouldn't be out here." said Powell.

"We saw the lights," Pj muttered, Your eye eyes fell on Jason as he looked out upon the lake with a blank gaze and red eyes. "Jason?" You asked carefully, easing down to kneel before him. A nausea fills your stomach again as you fail to ignore Patrick's contorted body.

Your hand reaches out to Jason, who flinched, "don't touch me!" He cried out. "Alright," You whisper, drawing your hand back. "What happened?" You asked him, "did you....did you find-"

Jason glared at you for a moment, and then his gaze wavered. "Maybe she/he doesn't know." he thought. "You need to stop looking for him." Jason warned.

"H-he did this, he did, I know it, I saw. It's all real, the cult. It's why you got out, isn't it? It's why you left." Jason rambled.

"He's lost it," You think, glancing back to your two friends and the police. Jason's arm shot out towards you, gripping the fabric on your shoulder. "You have to stop looking, or you might end up," Jason looked down at Patrick.

Your body gave a shudder as your gaze hardened, "I don't care. Jason, listen. You saw him? You saw him, right? Did, did this happen to him too, or did he get away?" You asked.

"He did it!" Jason shouted at you.

You ignore him and ask again, "which way did he go?" you whispered. Jason simply s hook his head.

"Alright, leave him be and let us do our jobs. You kids shouldn't be here. Go home. Every time someone meddles, we end up with another body." Powell said.

You got to your feet and with Pj and Samantha head back for the car. "Wait we're leaving?" Pj asked. "No, I'm not. I'm going to search the area." You said in hushed tones, leading your friends back to the car.

"You two however, yeah, you're leaving." You said.

"What? We can't leave you out here." Samantha protested.

"One of us will be harder to spot than three of us. The cops will be crawling around this place with dogs and shit soon. Jason saw Eddie, he's somewhere out here. If I stay, I can probably find him." As you spoke, your heart thundered in your chest. "He's alive, at least." You mind sighed.

"Eddie!" You shouted through the trees, your wandering had taken you far from the lake, but the search team had yet to move so far themselves.

"Eddie! If you're out here! Throw something or...something!"

Dropping your hands away from your mouth, you sighed. "Come on, you're fast, but you aren't this fast, you have to be around somewhere." You whispered.

"Eddie!"

He could hear a voice calling at a distance. Soaked to the bone, Eddie quickly hide behind a tree. "Oh, you're kidding," He exhaled quietly. It took more will power than he could have imagined not to run towards the sound of your voice. "Don't panic, just move quietly, and she'll/he'll never know you're out here." Eddie told himself as he moved quietly through the trees.

"Eddie? Come on, let me help you!" You called out. "He feels close, or maybe I'm just being too hopeful." You murmured.

"Damn it Munson!" You snapped.

Eddie could hear the crack in your voice, and he paused in his steps. His eyes shut tight. "No, keep moving." he told himself, but his feet were rooted to the spot. Eddie exhaled slowly. "Come on, come on. Think of what you just saw, again." he said, "you need to move, you need to move." Eddie continued the quiet pep talk as he tried to evade you.

It was working. But the farther your voice got, the deeper the guilt sank in. "Fuck, I'm sorry. Y/n, I really am." he whispered.

"Eddie!" your voice echoed behind him. "Shit, shit, shit." Eddie whispered, moving faster and vanishing into the night.

Morning broke the sky, tired and near delirious, you made your way back to the lake house. You'd suffer a lecture from chief Powell, but there was no way your legs would carry you all the way back to your home, or even the nearest payphone.

Coming up to the house, a large crowd had formed, curious towns people and media circling like pigeons around popcorn. Cameras flashed and shuttered, taking snaps of Powell as he addressed the news.

"We have identified the person of interest," said Powell. "No," you breathed with a shake of your head as you watched Powell lift high a black and white print out. "Eddie Munson, if anyone has any information, we encourage them to come forward, please." He said.

Quietly, you pushed your way through the small crowd of people. "Chief Powell!" You called out. "We told you to go home," He said, trying to remain calm before the cameras. "He didn't do this." You whispered. "We have a witness who says otherwise, he's just a person of interest." Powell tried to diffuse you.

"Which to the lame man means 'the killer' and your witness is half mad!" You shouted, whirling on your heel you turned to the nearest camera. "Listen, please, listen." You said into it. Many other reporters crowded around out, microphones shoved at your face.

"I know Eddie Munson, I've known him nearly all my life. He wouldn't do this. He couldn't do this. It's more likely that he's a victim too, held hostage or...or something. If he was involved, it could only be that he was forced to. It happens all the time to captive of serial killers." You ranted quickly, words flying.

"We need to get Y/n out of there." said Max. Nancy quietly shook her head, "no, she/he is providing a perfect distraction." she said. "Nance, is right, we need to move while we can. If she'd tied them up, they've got less time to focus on hunting down Eddie." Dustin said.

"You need to go home, Y/n." Powell said sternly. "I can't! You've damned him to the whole town. Eddie's missing, and I'm going to keep looking! I'm going to find him, before someone else does, and before he ends up like Chrissy, Patrick and Fred!" You shout, whirling around and storming through the crowd.

Heading towards the road, you spot a familiar rusted car idling near the side of the road. Two faces watching you as their radio blared with the live news coverage.

"Sounds like you need a bit of help." said Axel.

"Kali sent you?" You exhaled. Mick shrugged, "we sent us." she said. "Get in, where do you need to go?" Axel said while opening the back seat door. You are quick to sit inside.

"Home, I need to get back to Wayne. I'm sure he's seen the news. He'll know what we should do." You said.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

A/n: sorry, my silly self marked this as mature out of habit. it's sfw no worries. fixed the community label. sorry about that folks.

[sekhithefops]

7 Days to Die Alpha 21

So, its a safe thing to say that outside of the high fantasy madness that is Azeroth one of my other favorite games is the eternally-in-alpha 7 Days to Die which is still early access but will be turning ten years old this December... and yet I can't stop playing the thing. o_o

At current time of writing I've got 445 hours clocked on this yippin' game. Thats outdoing most any Triple-A releases lately, and its just an eternally early access indie title so... yeah. Bit of a favorite to say the least.

Well, they recently released Alpha 21, which did a bunch of overhauls for the game, and I'm here to show off exactly what I noticed, what I liked, and as a veteran of the Zombie Apocalypse give a few fun hot tips for the new ruined world we'll all be blowing up slackjaws in.

Graphical Upgrades!

This is a minor thing, but it really shows just how much love is going into this game from the devs that they went out of their way to update stuff this inconsequential.

Its a bit hard to see, this is an older screenshot, but those two things to the right there are what forges used to look like before. Just small little mounds of dirt.

This is what the forges look like now. Much more detailed and attractive looking (though don't ask me how the heck we made these without any proper masonry or woodworking gear) but much nicer and more pleasing to the eye.

Also stations like the forge (for smelting metals and simple things like nails and such) and the campfire (for making most any kind of food) can get attachments to them. A bellows, crucible, and anvil for the forge and a grill, cooking pot, and measuring cup for the campfire. This has always been the case, but before you'd just clip them into their slots and that was it.

Now it actually changes how the stations look! Above is the campfire by itself, and below see how it looks with each individual addon.

Lastly, and this is one of the more fun ones... they updated the zombie deaths and how it looks when you take them down in certain ways. Before you could take their head off with a well timed shot, but now... and be warned these are a bit graphic, but its a zombie game so of course they are...

You can snap their necks so hard they almost fall off, you can bash the tops of their skulls open, you can even take their head off in such a degree as to leave their lower jawbone still attached and their tongue forever tasting the breeze which, as a former retail worker, I find just delightful.

... ye gods what is wrong with me.

The Dew Collector

Moving along from that train of thought, we've got this lovely little device.

Before, in order to get water you'd need to find a source of it, a pond or something, and fill a bunch of mason jars with fresh water, then haul it back home and boil them each individually into drinkable fluids. Time consuming and it meant you had to sacrifice some inventory space for the jars and that each drink you took left a fresh empty jar clogging it up as well. Also making new ones required glass which could be put to better uses such as windows or other devices.

These beauties take their place! The jars are no more, they're gone from the game entire.

Instead, the Dew Collectors fill up with water slowly over time, holding a maximum three drinks worth, and are always turned on. I recommend two of 'em per player, and you have to put them outside with clear view of the sky above them to get them to work right, but they're a very welcome change.

One small suggestion I'd make to the devs is that if its storming, they should fill up faster. I mean those things could catch rainwater. Maybe the rainwater needs to be boiled or something? Normally these things give clean water, but otherwise its a fun new thing.

Which leads into my next item on the agenda...

Crafting Skill Books

Along with the older bonus books we'd find across the world that give us things like the chance to find more lead or brass when looting, or learn how to mine better, or such... now we have these guys. Before you'd learn how to craft gear by leveling up the associated stat, i.e. to learn how to make guns you'd level up the Gunslinger stat and find specific skill books for the blueprints... but that caused problems.

For one, to be able to craft the highest level of a specific weapon you HAD to pour your points into it when you might want to put them into, say, a skill that made farming easier or a skill that let you have health regeneration.

Now, those same skills give you a bonus to damage, but also make it more likely that you'll find the specific weapons and ammo associated with it when searching through ruins in the game... and the magazines that give you skill points are yippin' everywhere.

Bit of advice early on, check mailboxes. Every mailbox you pass, stop and peek inside. Everyone was a magazine subscriber when the zombie apocalypse began it seems. You'll also find certain magazines in certain places more often than others.

Want to learn some new cooking tricks? Break into abandoned houses and find the kitchen! Cooking magazines will more often than not be there.

Want to learn new gun tricks? Gun shops not only have weapons, they likely sold magazines on guns too. I mean it makes sense when you think about it.

The Pop'n Pills Medical Centers have Medical Journals, the Mo' Power Electronics Shops will often have magazines about Robotics and Wiring... just use logic to find what you need really.

Also, these.

The Crack-A-Book Bookstores are goldmines now. Literally too. Those one-use-per-time skill books still exist, and the traders will pay good coin for those, so if you find one you've already read, save it and SELL it! The magazines you can grind like mad though. Most of them go up from 50 to 100 ranks until you hit mastery, so you'll be using them a lot.

But yeah, these are the three biggest ones I noticed since the new build went live at the beginning of this week, and I'm really having a blast so far. It changes up the mechanics considerably, but personally I feel its in a good way. It can make things a bit frustrating, you need to find five issues of Forge Ahead to make the forge itself, and ten to make a Workbench, so bad luck can still be an issue... but that was always true about the game.

If you haven't given this a go yet, don't let the seemingly endless Early Access scare you away. I've had more fun with this than I've had with Fallout 76 or any other one of the mainstream game companies attempts to ape whats popular.

ADDENDUM: One other thing I forgot that was changed. (I knew there'd be one.)

Running over zombies with your motorcycle or truck will kill them now. 100%. They will die and it will be awesome.

That being said, to compensate for your new ability to perform vehicular manslaughter, the vehicles take a LOT more damage now.

So yeah, thats a thing. A welcome thing as it never made sense how slamming through one of the undead with my jeep just had them flung over me to stumble back to their feet like nothing happened, but be ready to use up some repair kits keeping your bike in one piece.

[yumemiyas-wips]

Tag game time.

In the spirit of 3 words stories, I will use all 3 words in one single short story. In the process it kind of turned into a Book Girl fanfic. Sorry guys.

Kitten, stake, mash.

"Konohaaaa, are you still mad at me?" Tooko asks dejectedly. In front of her is a half-eaten sheaf of papers - her dinner, essentially.

Inoue Tooko, neé Amano, a novel editor and self-proclaimed Literary Girl, who loves-stories-so-much-she-can-eat-them, was guilty of snacking on her husband's copy of "I am a cat" by Natsume Soseki. Not a rare book, by all means, but a special one, the first book that they've bought together as a couple.

"Why would I be mad?" Says her husband and acclaimed novelist, Inoue Konoha, in a deadly cheery voice. "No, I'm not mad at all."

"I'm sowwwyyyy!!!" Whines Tooko, now clinging to her husband's neck like a clingy cat: "Pwease forgive meeeee!!! Don't make me eat these kind of weird stories anymoreeeeee!!!!!"

"And what's so weird about a story where a kitten, having had his canned tuna stolen by another cat, makes a voodoo doll of that cat and then staking it on a torii gate? He smashes, and he smashes, until he realizes he has smashed his paw in as well. It's a perfectly normal story." Konoha says fleetly.

"It's like eating a whole plate of wasabi-filled dangoooo!!!" Cries Tooko, even more loudly this time. "How could you describe the malice in such detail!? The oitside is all soft and fluffy but when you bite down on it there's nothing but hatreeed!!! It's burning my tongueeeee!!!!!!"

"Hai, hai, maybe you should have thought of that before sneaking into the library, no? I could have written up a quick snack for you, you know?" Konoha has never been able to stay mad at his wife for long. "Besides, that book was really special."

"I'm sorry..." Tooko has quietened down quite a bit now. "But you were working so hard on that novel, and I didn't want to have you write something up for me in the meantime..."

"Sigh... Sometimes I wonder where you got that twisted sense of priorities from..." Konoha massages his eyes. "Please prioritize your health for now, for yourself and for the child as well." He sets down his pen and tears off several pages from the notepad: "Here, a little something to hold you over till dinner. It's not a weird story, I promise."

"Really?"

"Pinky promise."

For a moment, there is nothing in the room except for the sound of chewing and tearing paper. Then, Tooko's eyes light up as she always has, the same way her eyes lit up in that dusty book storage room all those years ago, whenever she got to eat a good story.

"The kitten went out camping, but he couldn't set up his tent, so he mashed rice and pounded mochi to call down a moon rabbit to help him drive the stakes into the ground! This story is so sweet! It's like red bean mochi, pounded and folded so many times it became soft and sticky! Mmm! It's so tasty!!!"

Konoha looks upon his wife, chewing on the pages like it was the best delicacy in the world, and his weary gaze softens. The novelist takes out the paper bag underneath his deak and reveals its content: "Do save some room for dinner!" He grins. Tooko, on the other hand, peers over curiously: "Ooh, 'Narihira' volume 13. Isn't that Kaito's book?"

"Yeah. I have a feeling it'll taste like broccoli somehow."

"It does! Beef and broccoli! How could you tell?" Tooko reminisces about the young writer she was responsible for, the last one before she started editing for Konoha exclusively. "Suzumenomiya's novels were always a bit on the extravagant and flashy side. Grilled lobster, beef stroganoff, fried scallops, the kind of food that hardly anyone can prepare. His style did change significantly by volume 12 though..." Tooko's eyes start to drift ans she reminisces, about Kaito and Hisa, talented young writers that she had the brief opportunity to provide guidance, about the night spent badmouthing Konoha in that inn in Izu, about braids, and then, about those days, in the dusty storage room, with the rickety wooden table, with the snarky, sarcastic kid that the man she loves once was...

"Kaito reminds me of you."

"Really? The kid reminds me more of Kotobuki." Muses Konoha.

"Nanase's gonna be really mad if she hears that."

"So you think I wouldn't be mad, huh?"

"I know you wouldn't." Tooko smiles.

"...You cheeky book-goat." Konoha laughs it off. "Speaking of old friends, Akutagawa and Miu are engaged, do you know that?"

"Yes, he called me to announce- wait, who are you calling a book goat!?" Tooko begins to ruffle Konoha's hair as vigorously as she could. Konoha just laughs and playfully fights back. The two kicks up dust into the air, the golden motes dancing in the sunlight from the window, which shines down on the two, like it did eight years prior in the dusty book storage.

Your words are: lunch, stopwatch, confession. Go.

Find the Word tag! @rmgrey-author tagged me! My words are: last, heart, death and cold. I'm drawing from Court Phoenix.

I'm tagging anyone who wants to play! Your words are kitten, stake and mash.

Last

I trudged across the village, my body and mind numb. Hes trailed after me, making worried noises, but I didn’t stop to reassure her. What could I say? I had no job. I had no home. And if I didn’t benefit the village in some way, I knew that sooner or later, they would banish me completely. Hes and I would wander the steppes alone. If we survived at all.

But I wasn’t without hope. When I reached my mother’s door, I knocked until I bruised my knuckles.

She burst out of her house, hands already set on her hips. “What?” she snapped.

I bowed my head to her. This wasn’t the time to be defiant. I said, “Mother, may I move back in? I’ll help fish for birds every morning and watch the children.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a long step towards me. “Move in? You have a house.”

Had a house. I swallowed. “The smith threw me out. So please—”

“Threw you out?” she screeched. For a second, hope swelled in my heart. She was outraged on my behalf. She would talk to him, turn this around. Then she said, “You worthless girl! Do you know how hard I worked to arrange an apprenticeship for you? This is because of that bird, isn’t it? Because you won’t kill it and be done.”

I clenched my hands. “Mother, Hes hasn’t done anything to deserve death.”

“That creature is going to burn the town down!” My mother slashed a hand through the air. “Fire will eat our walls and windows. It’ll jump from roof to roof, spreading like a storm. But you don’t care, do you? You don’t care about anything except yourself and your pet.” She spat the last word.

I stood guard in front of Hes, my heart beating desperately. “She won’t! She’s smart and careful. She doesn’t burn things down accidentally.” As a prank was something else.

“And you expect me to believe that thing wouldn’t see us all dead out of spite?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” I insisted.

She snorted. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t move back in. You’re not welcome. Go live by the lake. Maybe your animal will keep you warm.”

Heart

We found the city’s trail long before we saw it. A million hooves had trampled the steppe grasses and flowers, leaving a long path across the plains. Chujulan turned us east to follow it. The sun glared down into my eyes. I wanted to shield my face, but my hands were busy holding Hes and clinging to the saddle. I’d never ridden an animal before, and the galloping deer seemed to wobble beneath me. The saddle, I was certain, would slide off any second and dump us all on the ground, but Damrag ran on, his long bounds effortless.

“There,” Chujulan said in my ear after an eternity on the stag’s back. “Look, fisher, at your glorious new home.”

Skyfire glided across the plains before us, brilliant in its blues and reds and greens. No walls encircled this metropolis, unlike the hotland cities of fable. A taunt to their enemies that said 'we don't need walls to defeat you.'

Row after row of round buildings stretched twenty — fifty — times the width of my own village, sometimes linked together into large complexes, other times split by white stone streets. A palace rose from its heart, a maze of round walls, red as blood, that stretched up and up until they domed into finial-tipped roofs. At this distance the city looked unreal, a series of perfect miniatures. But all around it ran the herd, unmistakably, unignorably, alive.

Deer spread out across the whole eastern horizon, shifting and shying around the moving city like a school of brown and white fish. At this distance, I couldn't tell where one animal began and ended, and their overlapping antlers rose like tangled brush from a field. Men and women rode at the edges of the herd, and immense white dogs ran with them. How many deer did they eat in a day?

As I clung to the saddle, the sun burning holes in my vision, the reality of the city hit me. This place was my new home. I felt a twinge of fear. A people who created this would sneer at a landbound villager, whether she had a phoenix or not. But no. I straightened up in the saddle. I would prove myself indispensable, the perfect phoenix-keeper, so that no one would ever try to send me back to my village.

Death

Chujulan slouched into a chair. I fell into one and thought about closing my eyes and passing out.

“How do you like this house?” my visitor asked. “The last keeper bragged about the plumbing to all who would hear.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Did you know him well?”

She waved a hand. “In passing. He was of little interest to me.”

And I was of interest to a rial? She kept showing up when she surely had better things to do. Surely I could use that somehow. “How did he die?”

“Oh, that.” She laced her hands together and offered me a sardonic smile. “He died of a heart attack.”

I jabbed a finger at her. “That’s not true! When I came here, the bed was still covered in bloodstains!”

“Was it? Well, the doctors said it was certainly a heart attack. It’s a common diagnosis in these parts for the dead both young and old. We are a sickly bunch, apparently.”

“And I suppose all those dead left behind bloodstains in their beds.”

She rested her chin in her hands. “Not all of them. Some died at the dinner table, after eating something suspicious.”

I scowled at her. “Poison?”

“Around here, we call it all a heart attack.”

Hes called mournfully, and I invited her onto my lap. “Why did he really die? Should I be worried?”

“A heart attack, of course, strikes whomever it choses. But I heard, not long before his death, that he was having an affair with a married woman. And she had a jealous wife. I’m sure there’s nothing for you to worry about unless you intend to do the same.”

Cold

The next evening, the sagan held his court in a bubble of ivory and gold, its stone bones buried under pale tapestries stitched with precious metals. A servant led me inside, and I hurried after him, Hes in my arms, trying to ignore my shaking legs and the sweat that clung to my skin. I rarely sweated, immune to overheating, but today I was clammy and cold. Only my eagerness to prove myself kept me walking.

Embroidered legends, wars and emperors swirled round everything until I felt dizzy and unreal. The room was more dream than architecture.

The lordly swept from one small group to another, and so many factions lined the walls that I stopped counting. But in the middle of that circular room, nothing moved. Some invisible fence marked off a line that could not be crossed, and at the center of it all a narrow throne stretched towards the ceiling that arched high overhead. A massive set of antlers, bigger than any I'd ever imagined, crowned the back. Below, it was draped in a thousand blood-red curtains and veils until it was impossible to tell if wood or metal or bone lay underneath.

Upon the throne sat a white-robed man with Chujulan’s sharp face, Batoktoa’s eyes and Gehiral’s pale skin. Red braids wrapped a crown of gold and silver. He wore the same black and red makeup as his children, but faint wrinkles marked his face and bags marred his eyes. Whatever was involved in ruling the saganum, it had aged him. It occurred to me I did not know his name. He had to have one, but everyone just called him the sagan. Something about that struck me as terribly sad.

Tag for everything

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Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

[ronearoundblindly]

Autumn and steve at some point tried cockwarming at night and hold eachother felt good after a hard day

Get. Out. Of my brain.

(Seriously, it's very dangerous in there; I get hurt all the time.)

No, but truly, I've been thinking about Bucky having a whole trial/interview, etc. with the U.S. (or more) government(s) in order to legally process all the shit that he did and that happened to him, so Autumn would have the same, right? And that's got to be a pretty traumatizing experience because the proceedings would (attempt) to not be biased or outright favoring you, yeah?

So--shit, I have written every single Cap and Autumn thing from Steve's POV, um, I may bounce around by accident--so imagine that you've been grilled by these stuffy government types for hours before being escorted 'home' to the compound...

It's all true, what you told them. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't choose any of it anyway. You were honest.

Brutally honest.

Sickeningly honest.

And your hands are still shaking.

No team members were allowed. They weren't welcome during your closed-door testimony, so you're driven back in a black SUV, with five men in black suits with black sunglasses. No one says a word to you for another hour-and-ten-minute ride home.

You stare out the window and see, really see, exactly nothing until the car pulls around the front entrance, and a lovely, light blue sweater greets you.

Steve.

Steve also wears a sad smile, one he is so desperately trying to make genuine but can't quite get his sky-blue eyes to participate in.

The shaking of your hands is in your legs now, too, and after a couple seconds of holding your hand and waiting for you to step down, Steve simply takes over, reaching in and scooping you into his arms like a kid wiped out from a sugar crash.

You don't care. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

"Ok, sweetheart. I got ya."

You wait patiently, counting his long strides through the main hall, the dings of the elevator, the turns down the residents' corridor.

"Palm, please," he whispers, and you sweep your hand out blindly behind you to the biometric scanner.

Ever a gentleman, Steve asks you what you need, what you want.

Food? Water? A drink? A bath? Company? Space?

Truth is that you don't know.

Every horrible memory you have was just wrung out of you and then magnified into--what does Peter call it?--4K detail, and your hands now have a distinct tremor even when holding Steve's shoulders.

You tug at his neck.

"Don't leave me."

"I would never," he snaps breathlessly before your lips cover his.

It's an excruciatingly soft kiss. A brush. A graze. A whisper of touch. Nothing more.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pelvis rocking against his crotch deliberate and slow.

Steve grunts into your mouth, quickly capturing your lips in a real kiss, but he stops just as fast.

"Rosie, you--"

"Bed," you say back, firm and unwavering, gazing into his sunset eyes that glow with layers of indecision. "Please, take me to the bed."

The sadness alights to concern on his features, but Steve got an answer. He doesn't ask if you're sure. He's respectful enough to listen and trust that it's the truth.

You slide out of his arms onto the mattress, knowing he won't try to leave. He said he wouldn't, and Steve Rogers is a man of his word, even when he's nervous, even if he thinks it'd be best for you.

You sit up and grab the button of his jeans.

His hand automatically wraps your wrist, and you freeze but don't pull away. He doesn't push either. Steve just closes his eyes for a moment, sighs, and lets go.

"Lay with me," you plead. "Just...be comfy."

To show him what you mean, you take off the stupid pant-suit layers Hill dressed you in that morning, a blazer and trousers you'd like to burn in your firepit tonight if possible, but you won't waste the garments. They just can't be on you anymore. The bad day can't touch you if it's not around you.

So you shed.

You shed the clothes. You shed the memories. You shed the guilt.

And what's left is...emptiness.

Steve takes off his shoes and socks, jeans and sweater, all casually at the foot of the bed, and crawls beside you, finding you lost in a staring contest with the wall.

He doesn't have to ask how bad it was. The answer is "it was worse."

Just when the shimmering tears crest the corners of your eyes, he pulls you against his bare chest, lacing his fingers through your hair, cradling your whole body.

"Hey, Rosie," he tries, "my Rosie. Come back to me, sweetheart."

The words are distant pinpricks of light offering navigation away from an endless black world. Black books. Blacklists. Black robes. Black cars. Black suits. Black. Black. Lack. Lacking feeling. Lacking context. Lacking hope.

You are so empty and Steve so warm.

His warmth and his light and his touch are right there but not close enough. It's not enough, and even his kiss isn't enough. You want more. You want connection. You want an undeniable, tangible anchor to a world you have been told you belong in, but the day has done nothing but set you apart.

Steve knows. He knows you. He knows you--even if he doesn't know everything you said today--and he's still here. He still wants you. He belongs here. If you could just...

While your tongue traces the roof of his mouth, your hand works him, pushing away his boxer briefs and earning you soft, fleeting grunts of protest. When you take one of his callused hands and guide it to remove your own underwear, you drag a finger through your building slick and smear it against him, showing how willing you are.

The air hitting the wet streak on his hardening cock makes Steve moan.

He pulls away from your kiss and starts to roll on his back, but you follow, straddling him with both legs and arms.

"I know," you mutter, pressing the source to him, waiting until he meets your eyes, "I know."

I know what I want. I know what I'm doing. I know I'm lost. I know you'll bring me back.

You're leaning over him, hovering, and Steve reaches up to cup your face. He tenderly meets your lips once, then kisses your cheek, then your eyelid, then your forehead, and back down the other side. Your hips rock to his motions, soaking him between your folds until he takes your lips in earnest and you take him into you. The heat and fervor of your kiss juxtapose the languid slide till he's buried to the hilt, but you plant your knees, bent at his waist, and stop.

Steve lifts his own hips once in suggestion.

No.

No, this is all you want: to feel open and stretched and full, to feel connected to the point that you are the same and unending, to feel safe and owned and unafraid of those two things existing simultaneously.

So he doesn't argue. Steve draws patterns on your bare skin--arms and legs, your back, your shoulders. He even runs his fingers tantalizingly across your ass, up between your cheeks, feeling where you're connected. His warm breaths wash over you steadily, rhythmically, stuttering when he fights not to move the rest of his body though he remains throbbing inside you.

When he hits a sensitive spot with his roaming fingers, you tense, body constricting tighter against his, and he swallows what noises he can.

The hazy distraction of pure comfort lulls you both. After a while, your head rests in the crook of Steve's neck, his arms encircle your back, and you rise and fall by his broad chest.

Fullness.

You have your world--your love--behind you, beneath you, inside you, surrounded and all around. It's bliss. It's replacing all emptiness you let go of today. You drove away from it and came home instead.

"I love you." His voice is barely a whisper.

You've grown so relaxed and heavy that it takes effort to draw yourself up to look at Steve and say back, "forever."

Um, so I may write a part two where the *rest* happens, but I'm in a super sappy mood. Currently only seem to write shit that comforts me, myself, and I, but--BUT--I really hope you enjoyed this, nonnie!

[Autumn Is Healing Masterlist]

[windvexer]

Hello Fool!

So yesterday something happened to me that I really don't know what to do with. In the past few weeks I've been talking this spirit with the help of a pendulum. Yesterday, as always, I wanted to connect again, but when I asked if it was the same spirit, it said no. Then I asked (multiple times) if it was another spirit and I never got a straight answer for some reason. After that, I asked some questions unrelated to this situation (like will x thing happen to me tomorrow etc.) and I always got a definitive answer. So I guess the pendulum worked, I was also in the correct headspace to communicate, it just didn't wanna answer that question.

The thing is, that yesterday, before (and tbh during and after) my little pendulum session, I was feeling terribly mentally. So at first obviously I thought that this was influencing the outcome and answers, but as I said, questions not about the 'spirit's' identity were answered right away.

Another strange thing I can't put into place, is that every single answer (that I got) was way more clear, and straightforward than any answer I got before, using the same pendulum.

So this may not even be possible, but could it be something not considered a 'spirit'? I'm of course planning to do some divination with tarot on the matter, but I wanted to know if this is an existing possibility to begin with.

Have a good day!

Hello! There are a lot of unknowns here, so let's jump in.

The word spirit is like vegetable. There are no 'vegetables,' it's a term of convenience given to many savory fruits, tubers, and tasty leafs.

That is to say: there is not now and will never be any conclusive, universal rules about what counts as being a spirit versus a different type of nonhuman person.

Individual practitioners or schools of magic may have extensive personal lexicons for terms such as spirit, ghost, living entity, poltergeist, and so on.

Other practitioners, like myself, call every nonhuman intelligence 'spirit' and get on with things.

Someone else might say, "of course, it might not be a spirit! It might be a ghost or an angel."

In my book, either it was a spirit (whether it be a ghost, angel, or otherwise) or you're just tricking yourself and having a conversation with your own subconscious energies.

***

It is my personal experience that almost no spirits who drop by to chat are interested in answering any questions about their personal identity.

And even spirits which are close friends of mine typically do not tolerate me asking the same question over again.

Imagine this scenario:

You're hanging out in your front yard and you put on your green slap bracelet, which as everyone in our society knows, means you want to talk to someone.

So a stranger shows up.

"Hey, are you the guy I talked to yesterday?" you ask.

"Nope," says the stranger.

"So you're a different guy?"

"..."

"You're a different guy then, right?"

"Uh,"

"If you're not the same guy as before, you're different?"

"Look..."

"Please answer my question. If you're not the same guy from before, does that mean you're a different guy?"

"..."

"But you ARE different? Or are you the same guy as yesterday?"

"..."

"Okay well... any ideas of what lunch will be served tomorrow?"

"PEAS AND RICE"

Framed in other terms, why would any spirit be obligated to answer any question at all? A spirit arriving to a communication session is not an agreement to reply to all questions. I can strike up a conversation with someone at the bus stop but not want to give them any details as to my identity.

Don't forget, identity details (especially names, but also other descriptive factors such as personality, species, area, and interests) can be used by magical practitioners to control and command spirits.

Not to mention that questions of identity, are, well - personal. It's bad manners to grill someone on their identity when you first meet them.

It's not necessarily fair for any of us to go, "aw, but it's just lil ol' me 🥺" and expect that unknown spirits will be immediately ready to answer every single question we ask. Nor is it fair for us to label certain questions as innocuous, and then get suspicious if spirits don't want to answer them.

Spirits enjoy communication for many of the same reasons we do. But no matter how you slice it, it's two-way communication with another being who has its own motivations and interests.

If you wouldn't give the stranger at the bus stop details of your personal identity in the first minute you start up a chat, it's a strange double-standard to expect that random spirits would want to.

***

It is my belief that it is our own energy which causes the pendulum to physically move.

But the intensity or interest of the spirit can comingle with that to provide stronger results.

A spirit that I can Hear and See very clearly might give the barest little input to a pendulum. I can be chatting clearly and directly with a spirit, question one of their replies, and pull out a pendulum -only to be met with the tiniest of movements as the spirit sarcastically messes with me for not trusting my own Hearing.

A spirit that I can't really Hear or See at all may make huge moments in the pendulum.

A spirit who is barely "present" but who is looking through to me because of my request for communication might move the pendulum only a little, while if they are fully present within the shrine they may move it a lot.

If they are interested, excited, or yelling, the pendulum can move more than if they are apathetic or bored.

The movement of my pendulum is bottlenecked by my own focus, since engagement of my own energy is required to make the pendulum "go" at all.

The movement of the pendulum also increases with practice, as I become more attuned to subtle energies.

So your reading could have been clearer just because the spirit was yelling at you, because it was standing 'right next' to you instead of 20 feet away, because your own skills are improving (as sometimes, jumps are to be expected instead of a smooth uphill curve), or many other reasons.

***

The following may be of assistance to you:

Practice your pendulum within a quickly cast circle (5 seconds or so spent on it will do). This stops random spirits from coming up to you. Then, invite specific spirits to join you in the circle. This way you should know who you're talking to, and it drastically reduces the randos walking up to chat.

2. Whether or not you're in a circle, specifically invite the spirit you want to talk to. Don't sit down and say, "okay, I'm ready to chat. Are you here, guy?"

Instead, try, "okay, I'm ready to chat. Are you here, guy that I talked to three days ago who doesn't like the color blue and thinks I should switch majors?"

(^^^ notice how even these seemingly surface-level identifiers can be used to reach out to and contact a specific spirit; when you know how little it takes to track the same spirit down, it becomes more understandable why strangers who stop by for a chat don't want to doxx themselves)

3. If you've enjoyed a conversation with a spirit, first ask them if they would be willing to come back and talk at a later time. If the answer is negative, politely thank them and move on. If the answer is affirmative, then ask, "I don't request your real name, but is there anything by which I might call you, so I can find you the next time I want to talk?"

Especially with pendulums, spirits may often concede to allow us to choose a respectful and relevant nickname for them.

4. It is sometimes appropriate to ask clarifying identity questions immediately - this is when you've taken the appropriate steps to make sure only the spirit you want to talk to should be able to arrive.

Suppose you've cast a quick circle and invited in Bob, who doesn't like the color blue. At that point it's appropriate to confirm: "Just to make sure, what was your opinion on my girlfriend?"

Or, say you want to contact the spirit of a tree. You set everything up for the tree and call to the tree. It's appropriate to ask: "are you a dryad? Are you the indweller of this tree?" (the same way someone might knock on a door and say, "are you the homeowner?" it's a different vibe than a bus stop chat).

***

If you're asking for opinions, the fact that the spirit didn't want to tell you its identity, and your response is to divine on it without its consent in order to gain that information anyway, tells me that it probably made the right choice.

[tuiyla]

Glee covers that recontextualized the original song

[originally on r/glee]

So I think that the best thing a show like Glee can do to a song is use the original meaning and transform it into something different and hopefully meaningful to the context of its characters. We all know that out of the 700 or so songs covered a lot were just cash grabs, covering what's popular to chart and get that iTunes money. But there were also some that were genuinely poignant to the characters and the storylines or just in general special in their own way. Recontextualisation can mean a lot of things and most GCVs are transforming the original just by virtue of existing within the narrative of the show but I'm looking for Glee versions that really feel like they elevate the song in some way, like they make you look at it in a different way.

I'll share a few examples that have been on my mind but I'm sure there are many, many more, so please do add your own and explain it in as much detail as you'd like, I'd love to hear your faves. I've chosen three solos and, as a preamble, I'm usually not a huge fan of solos as a type of cover on Glee. They were far more common than duets or group numbers but I think a solo has to work harder, in a way, to justify its existence as a cover. At least if you cover what was originally a solo as a duet or group number, you can play with several voices and the distribution of parts and create meaning through that. This really is just imo but I think a solo needs to have at least some form of recontextualization to make me care that a new singer is now covering it.

Luckily this does happen often in Glee and without further ado, here are just three examples that are my favourites/have been on my mind recently.

I Want to Hold Your Hand

I just rewatched "Grilled Cheesus" today so I have very fresh memories of this Kurt performance. Originally, it's a pretty straightforward Beatles song with some generic lyrics and a pleasant melody - Beatles fans don't come for me, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with generic. It's a pretty tame love song and not so overtly romantic that it'd be weird for a song to sing it about a hospitalized father. In fact, it even has that soft quality that makes it pretty wholesome.

The recontextualisation, for me, comes in when we consider what holding his father's hand means to Kurt versus what it meant for the Beatles as a tame love song. It's no longer about this most innocent of physical contacts between lovers but the desperate cry of a boy who wants his father to squeeze his hand back. It's still about intimacy, in a way, but it's now about a familial bond and the need for someone to hold us and say it's gonna be okay.

There's one line in particular why this got stuck in my head and even made me write this post now, despite having been thinking about the other two examples for months and months. It's this part:

Oh, please, say to me

You'll let me be your man

As I was crying my eyes out watching flashbacks of the Hummels, this part struck me as particularly emotional in the context of their relationship. We get the feeling that before the series' start the relationship between father and son is somewhat distant. Don't get me wrong, Burt has always looked after Kurt and tried his best but prior to Kurt officially coming out and the two actively working on this relationship it was an uneasy dynamic. They've been getting better and trying more and it's wonderful to witness, but they both occasionally struggle with navigating their father-son bond in a homophobic world where Kurt is constantly being put down and Burt tried to unlearn harmful ideas he grew up with. As we see in season 1, there's tension between the two when it comes to this concept of The Son who learns from The Father, and I'm being dramatic with the capitalization but that's because these are larger themes they're working with. Conflict arises when Kurt feels like Burt is getting the father-son bonding they never did with Finn and, even though Burt doesn't want him to feel this way, there's a sense that Kurt isn't manly enough to be his boy. It's not their individual fault but it's a shitty thing regardless that Kurt doesn't always feel like he's the son whom his father wanted, like he can't grow into the man he wanted.

So when Kurt sings, "let me be your man", it's such a small thing in this already emotionally charged performance but it alone is enough to make me reconsider the whole song. Because Kurt wants nothing more than to be able to hold his dad's hand again and maybe even be the one who says it's all gonna be okay this time. He wants Burt to live long enough to see him become a man.

If I Were a Boy

That Kurt section was longer than intended so let's see how much I've got to say about Unique, lol. Alex Newell's voice is such that a Unique solo was bound to end up as one of my favourites in the entire show but I'm really glad the character was allowed not only stunning vocals but narratively important songs. There are many interpretations to every song, but the way I see it Beyoncé's original version is about femininity and the double standards women face. It's about trying to challenge people, specifically men to change perspective. It's essentially a thought experiment about gender-swapping and it tells the story of misfortune on a small and personal scale.

Now think about it in the context of Unique's character. Particularly in the episode "The End of Twerk" but really throughout her run on the show, Unique struggles with misgendering and flat-out transphobia. She's not always recognized for the woman she is, challenged about her gender identity, challenged about her right to exist, really. So it's in that context that we're giving "If I Were a Boy", a song about hypothetical gender-swapping, to Unique, a trans woman. When Unique sings about the double standards between genders, it hits different because she knows what it feels like to be perceived as a man and it wasn't true to who she was. Instead of challenging an unfaithful partner, Unique is challenging anyone listening to see that yes, it is different for men and women and it makes all the difference for her when people recognize and respect her as not just a boy but a woman. A woman who didn't choose to be one and didn't choose to have transphobia and gendered double standards be imposed on her.

I think that Unique's version still has that underlying plea of asking men to consider how it feels but it just has so many more layers now because of her identity and journey. She's speaking as someone who has been seen as a boy before but also as someone who is a woman and knows how tough it can be. We see some great acting through song from Alex Newell as they tear up during the performance without taking it too far and making it melodramatic. Instead, the heartbreak of this cover lies in its simplicity. As the song ends, it's ultimately that last line that keeps haunting me:

But you're just a boy...

Because that's what Unique's been told over and over again, and that's a kind of meaning that never would have been there in the original version.

Mine

This really shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who's heard me go on about, well, any aspect of this whole scene. I'll try to keep it brief and we'll see how it goes. So with this one, Taylor Swift has spoken on several occasions about the idea behind the original song and I'm sure any Swiftie could do a much better job of explaining that context than I could here. For the purposes of this post, let's consider Taylor's version as a song about a could-be, a potential future that plays out with all the ups and downs and the hope of making it work despite everything that could stand in its way. Honestly there's way more to be said about the original song but for now really just leave it at "ultimately hopeful love story about a future together."

So what does Santana Lopez do, she uses it as a breakup song. It's a serenade to Brittany reminiscent of "Songbird", except that was before a proper relationship between the two even formed and now here they are, at a painful end. It's a slower and more melancholic version of the song and that alone means it's different but there are so many layers to what makes "Mine" such a transformative cover and a very, very strong contender for my favourite Glee cover of all time. One, it's how Santana seems to use it to lament about their past and the future she imagined they would have but they might never get to experience. As Brittany says, she turns it into a sad song while the original was really more hopeful than anything. Two, Naya Rivera's acting once again shines as she conveys all the emotions she needs to while doing nothing more than sitting there and facing the girl she loves, in the room where they fell in love. Even without watching the performance, even if you just listen to the studio version you can hear the pain behind her words and how difficult this decision to end things is for her.

Those two aspects would already be enough and I could talk much more about both the context of the song and Naya's vocals and acting, but I also want to focus on a third aspect. Much like with the first two songs, there's a particular bit in the song that cements it as a recontextualised one in my mind. Said bit in "Mine" is when the song switches perspective and the lyric changes to quoting this lover Taylor imagined a future with. Some of it is cut in the episode version but my favourite part made it in:

You said, "I remember how we felt, sitting by the water

(And every time I look at you, it's like the first time

I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter)

She is the best thing that's ever been mine"

Words cannot express how much I love this but I'll try anyway. So once again there are several layers, and the one that strikes me the most is the pronoun. "Mine" is a not very gendered song save for a few words here and there and the most we get is that the singer is a woman because of this quote part that's from the lover's perspective. When Taylor sings "she" and when Santana sings "she", we understand that they're talking about themselves through the lovers' lens. But I love it so much when Glee does the pronoun change thing and though that's not quite what happens here, I think it's important to highlight this one line and one word nonetheless. Because of the way Naya sings it, putting some slight emphasis on "she is the best thing" and the way the whole scene is structured, Glee doesn't have to touch the lyrics for us to still understand that this is transformed and it's Santana talking about Brittany. She is the best thing that's ever been hers and she'll always love her the most. And do you believe it now? Even though they're breaking up, they'll make it somehow.

[eyitsroseau]

Across the World Part 1 (Dr. Xeno dad! x Reader) Dr. Stone fanfic | A mini-series

This will be in two or three parts. I don't know yet. But I hope you like it!

Part 2

Part 3

In which you found out you were pregnant pre-petrification to your long time boyfriend NASA scientist, Xeno. However, when you told him the news, he wanted nothing to do with it because his top priority is his research. Hurt, you decided to find refuge and start anew in the country you have always wanted to live in, Japan. Post-petrification and Senku announced they'll be traveling to America. As you have lived there before, they took you and your one-year-old daughter along. Now, thousands of years later, you'll find yourself face to face with the man who had hurt you the most across the world.

"Hey, babe?" Your nervousness seeped out of your body and your trembling hands are the evidence.

"Yeah? Look, my mentee from Japan messaged me. Looks like he's building a rocket again. Hmmm. All he needs is niobium-alloy nozzle..." he replied, giving you his divided attention. Again.

"Uh, babe?" You said a little louder this time. Sensing your urgency, he sighed and faced you fully.

"What is it?"

"This may sound shocking but, I'm... pregnant," you finally announced, clutching at the hem of your shirt while you waited for his reply.

You know this is unexpected but he'll take responsibility, right? Right? But the nagging gut-feel inside you knows what his answer will be.

With a straight unforgiving face he replied,

"I don't want it."

Remember that pain. Remember the hardships you went through. Remember how you wanted to go far away from the man that hurt you the most. Remember how he never contacted you even a year later. Remember how he didn't even ask for your child- the daughter he never got to meet.

Your daughter, oh God, your daughter! Never forget the way her eyes glimmer when she's with you. Never forget the smiles and giggles she reserves for you. Never forget how she nuzzled you on her first birthday. Never forget the time when you are taking her for a walk near a high school and suddenly you saw a blinding light which rendered you motionless.

Remember those memories again and again. Don't you ever dare forget any little details. No matter how much time passes, always remember.

Never forget.

Suddenly, you feel something cracking. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you can see the light. Your eyes widened when you see trees surrounding you. Not only that but the stone that seemed to cover your body begin to crumble. Little by little, you are gaining back your motility, and you have never felt so refreshed.

When you are finally free, you stood with shaking legs while scanning the area. Where are you? Are you still in Japan? How many years have passed?

Then, something hits you. Where is your daughter? Oh my god! Where is she? She couldn't be separated from you right? You have held her tightly when you saw that light. Panic and worry surged through you and you were about to set out and find her when you heard a familiar song.

Snapping your attention to where the noise came from, you realized that it was the lullaby you have always sang to your daughter, Xenka. Your feet had already started moving before you can register anything.

Alas, there in the middle of the forest, your daughter sat in front of a bonfire, grilling what appeared to be mushrooms. Taken a back, you only stared in shock when Xenka finally looked at you and the widest grin you have ever seen has graced her little face.

"Mama! You're back!"

You can't still wrap around the fact that your one-year-old daughter is facing you right now while talking about what she thought happened. Yes, your lovely Xenka who has not even said her first word before is now talking and had even made her own fire. Plus, she said she has been surviving for a week on her own.

"Sweetie, tell mama what happened when you're still a sto-"

"Mama, the perfect term is petrified! I told you I saw it in the dictionary, right?" your daughter pouted while crossing her chubby arms.

You chuckled. This situation is absurd but what can you expect from Xeno's blood daughter?

"Right, right. I apologize. Xenka-chan what happened to you when you are petrified?"

"I remembered I was really scared, mama! But you hugged me and told me to remember. But, I don't know what you meant so I remembered and studied again the words you taught me. I even memorized the books that I used to play with," she started. Well, what you were trying to say was that she has to remember that you love her. And the books she mentioned were from your roommate who is a researcher in the field of astrophysics and chemistry. You can also remember how Xenka used to scan your biology books.

You are surprised to hear that she basically became a genius over time. But to be honest you are not that surprised. She is Xeno's daughter after all.

A slight pang hit your chest when bitter memories started to fill your mind. As sudden as those memories come, they instantly go away when you feel your daughter sitting on your lap and cuddling you.

"I miss you so much, mama! You didn't hug me back when I awoke!" Her cries echoed through the vast forest and you can't help but to tear up also.

Your biggest fear is the thought that you lost her. Fortunately, your daughter is smart enough to survive on her own even just for a week. You cried with her as relief washed over you.

She must have been so afraid of being alone. And so, you let her wail for hours. It's alright, after all she's still a child. You held her close while whispering words of reassurance that from now on, you won't be separated anymore.

Once the two of you calmed down, Xenka reported that she saw what appears to be a tower when she was scouting the area. And with that, the two of you began your journey. But first, you have to make DIY clothes or else you'll walk in naked if there really is people around.

The stone statues that litter the forest is a little creepy. It reminded you of that village in Japan famous for their stone statues. It took you a day to finally arrive at your destination. That must mean that Xenka has wandered far from where you were depetrified.

To your utter shock, a big ship is what greeted you upon entering the village. What the heck? You feel your daughter squirm in your arms wanting to be set down. You obliged and followed her when she suddenly ran to the direction of the ship.

The nearer you got, the more you see that there are a lot of people gathered around. Hope blooms in your chest as you know now that you and your daughter will survive seeing as they have this kind of resources.

A group of people went down the ship and the villagers seemed to buzz with excitement. I was about to grab Xenka so we can introduce ourselves but to my surprise, she's already in front of a young man with white hair that turns green in the tips. That reminded you of a leek which Xenka hates.

"Eh? Whose kid are you?" the man said while picking on his ear.

You sighed and hurried to walk beside your daughter. Upon seeing you, everyone erupted to loud whispers, questioning your identity. Some people from the ship even took a defensive stance and had their weapons at the ready. You suddenly felt scared and the young man sighed.

"Oi, what the heck are you doing?" He scolded his friends.

"We don't know her. She could be an enemy. Protect the chief. Rules are rules," the tall man with glasses replied.

"I am ten billion percent sure that she's not. If I deduce it correctly, you have been depetrified on your own, right?" You nodded and then his eyes trained on the little girl who has already taken a bottle from his bag.

You tried taking it from her but it's too late as she poured it on your left big toe that still remained as stone. The two of you watched in wonder when it cracked and revealed your smooth skin.

You watched as your daughter crossed her index and middle fingers as she mulls over something. This scene is painfully familiar as it is also the same mannerism as her dad's when he's too deep in his work.

Like a light bulb suddenly lit up, the crease on her little brows smoothened.

"I see now. That concoction smells like nitric acid with ethanol. The place where mama and I laid had a cave that gave nitric acid from bats but it is now gone. I thought that it is one of the factors for depetrification. However, you have more bottles with it that means you have a continuous supply of those two."

Her lengthy explanation has not just amazed me but everyone around the area. Some even had their mouths hanging open.

"What the? How did she know that?"

"But she looks like she isn't even a year old!"

"Woah! That's crazy!"

You can't help but be proud as the villagers scream from disbelief. That's your daughter alright! Even if her intelligence didn't come from you. But she did came from you.

"Kukuku! You're not just an ordinary kid, right? Then answer my next question. We have no source of Nitric Acid as the cave has been destroyed. What mineral will make the production of Nitric acid possible?" He tested her with a smirk in his face.

However, your daughter also showed a similar smirk and faced him on, "Huh, easy! It would be platinum!"

He grinned and outreached his hand to her, "My name is Senku."

You see your daughter's eyes widen and you can see why. Someone who has almost the same name as her and a genius at that too?! Who wouldn't be surprised.

"Senku-niisan, I am Xenka! And that is my mother, Y/n," she introduced while pointing at me, "please let us stay here. I can help you with your work and mama can treat people. She's a nurse!"

The young man, Senku, looked at you and grinned, "Well first, you two need some clothes. Yuzuriha, take care of them,"

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

It has been a few months now since you joined the Kingdom of Science. You are still at awe at how Sengku managed to build everything from scratch with the help of these young people.

It is also crazy how your daughter fits in the science team so easily. The gaps in her knowledge is easily supplied by Senku and the two grew even more closer. She really views him as her older brother. At this point, the two are inseparable. They even finish each other's sentences at times.

But the craziest of it all is that, you are now entering San Francisco California in the ship they made. You never thought that you'll go back to where you used to live. However, this is one of Senku's plan to go to the moon and you all need the corn here.

Apparently, they needed you because 1. you are a nurse and 2. you know the geography of the place- well at least from 3700 years ago. Also, your daughter has decided to go so you really had no choice.

It has been a few days since Perseus docked here. A few nights ago, Senku was shot and you have been tending him. Apparently, there's another Kingdom of Science here in America. It surprised the lot of you since they are already advanced in terms of weaponry but you believed that your team can handle it. They already have a plan to take their leader.

And now you are in a quest to find your patient who was out of his bed when you checked a few minutes ago. Little Xenka is even crying because she didn't know where her oniisan went to.

You are also silently fuming because you specifically told him to rest so his sutures won't break. Suddenly, you are being dragged. You were about to fight back (Kohaku taught you basic self-defense) but when you see the dazzling suit of the butler, yoi sighed in relief.

"Where are we going, Francois?" you asked.

"They seized their leader and we are going to escape. Senku still needs you to tend his wounds," upon hearing Senku's name, Xenka immediately stopped crying.

"I hope he's okay," she mutters while you tightened your hold on her.

"Don't worry, sweetie. We'll make sure to scold your oniisan, okay?" You tried cheering her up and it works. You wonder what's gearing up in that little big mind of hers.

The three of you made your way to a smaller boat that looked like a yacht. You guessed that they hijacked it from the enemies. Without wasting a second, you and your daughter roamed from room to room for your leek-y boy.

You and your daughter's annoyance grew the farther you searched and alas, only one cabin remained. You and Xenka looked at each other and nodded. Without further ado, you kicked the door open, startling the two people in the room. However, the two of you are focused on Senku that you didn't even realize a man was standing beside him.

"You brat! What did I say about taking a rest?! If you want to bleed badly you can just say so!" You nagged at him while Xenka pouts and glares at him.

"Xenka is upset oniisan! You said you'll never leave my side!" she said and refrained looking at the boy.

"Y-y/n?"

Suddenly, it felt like a bucket of ice-cold water is poured on you. Even thousands of years have passed, you still remember that voice. It's the one that whispered sweet words in your ear at three in the morning but broke you in the end.

"Mama? What's wrong?" You felt two warm hands touch your cheeks but your gaze snapped and remained at the other man in the room.

"Xeno," you breathed.

Suddenly, a burst of memories that you had together appeared on your mind like a broken record. The first day you met, the day he asked you to be his girlfriend, the first time you kissed and made love, and then the last time you have seen each other. You realized you had so many happy memories together but it took less than ten minutes for it to shatter.

"Y/N, I-"

"I don't want to hear it," you said and was about to go out of the room but Xenka squirmed wanting to be out down. You hesitantly obliged.

She went in front of Xeno. The two stared at each other. White hair to white hair. Black eyes to (e/c). Indeed, looking at them like this just enhanced how they look so much alike.

Xenka crossed her middle and index finger which made Xeno surprised. You know he already knows who this child is. You're even sure that Senku must have known this the moment we entered the room or even way before that.

"I see, so you're my father. Based on mama's reactions and how you're not in my life, Xenka's 10 billion percent sure that you never wanted me," her little voice broke and it made your heart clench in hurt.

"Well, if you don't want us, Mama and Xenka don't want you either!!" She screamed and ran out of the room. Without hesitation, you followed the little girl out after glaring at Xeno.

You know that your daughter is hurt right now and she needs you the most. You find her hiding in one of the lower rooms. The sight shattered your heart and you immediately went to crush her in your embrace. This only made her cry more. Even at this young age, she understands what's happening. And for the first time, you wished she's an ordinary one-year-old.

[kyber4crystal]

Bottom of a Whiskey Cup

I’ll put the keep reading option later

The glass broke, it shattered when I threw it against the wall. No more bourbon for me I guess. There was always a joke between me and alcohol. People said it was like we depended on each other, I drank it and the bar got money, I drank it and the stores sold out, I drank it and the people I care about would leave me in my own drought.

I looked over, across the room, and dared to look up. The face that stared back at me was broken, tear-stained, and devastated. I knew what was going to happen next but I didn't want it to. I wanted to be selfish and keep this horrible moment for just a while longer, just a little if it meant that nobody would leave this house anything so long as it meant that I wouldn't end up alone again.

"I never knew why I stayed this long, why I prolonged this when clearly I've been with a lunatic that doesn't know how to live" were the only words that I could register, I mean they're not wrong, but I don't want them to be right. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong"

She scoffed, "No something clearly is, but I can't fathom why you won't admit it" there was a pause, an uncomfortable one, "what do you have to lose?

"You"

"You already did" she shook her head, or maybe that was me going dizzy, I couldn't really tell, my mind had already betrayed me. "You should have thought this through before you made me give my life to you" she turned around and that's when I snapped out of it, that's when every little piece of hope inside of me crashed, and that's when I cracked. She was finally gonna do what was right for her.

"I can't do this" and she walked up to the room. Why?

"What are you doing?" Why can she make me so vulnerable?

"I'm taking my things, then I'm going home" she wanted to go.

"This is your home" She started to pack. I needed to stall, to do something to keep her here she can't just leave.

"No it's yours, and clearly our 'interests' aren't aligned anymore so I'm going to take my things and go" she couldn't do this to me. Not now.

"But wait, please" I saw her take her belongings and I couldn't touch her.

"For what? An apology? An explanation? What could you possibly say?"everything was packed, "you've used every excuse in the book and I stayed for all of them but what can you possibly have now?"

I tried to shake my head, I wanted to grab that luggage in her hand and just stop her from leaving, but I can't, I know I can't.

"No excuse. Just me. Stay."

She looked away. Her clothes were ready in that one dreaded luggage. And just like that, she walked out. She almost made it through the main door before I said the first thing that I could muster.

"Don't leave" but my voice cracked and she couldn't hear me right and that made her turn around.

"What" this is it, this is my shot to keep her, to keep my only hope here with me.

"Don't leave. Don't you dare leave me"

She walked up to me, luggage in hand, maybe she was going to stay. But her smile, out of all the circumstances, why would that smile show up now?

"Oh sweetheart, I was never really here"

And just like that, I'm in my chair, sitting in the foyer, a glass of good old bourbon in my hand. And I realized this wasn't real, there was no fight, although I could see that I walked, I remember I talked but she wasn't there.

I spoke to thin air, to nothing, all because she died and the thought of her leaving me was better than the one where she is buried. The reason for her actually leaving was so cruel but I guess the devil is in the details.

She only left because I started the game again, I hunted but I didn't clear out my prey.

"Hey honey, I'm back from the grill. I'm gonna go shower and then I'll eat something with you, okay?"

"Yeah sure, I'll wait here"

Wait, I didn't clear out, I dozed off again. It's in the tub.

Why is a normal life so hard? I guess old habits die hard.

[friedbreadwombat]

To die means to have lived.

And also my teachers that have literally grilled me to near death for my genius intellect bullshit ability to get grades and As for their school rep,

Over the fact that I looked like the very epitomy of "please take this child to therapy they are not okay and are very young"

They would rather I die and bleed, than not get the As for them.

The manipulation is obvious. Enough said. I don't need to explain as if my recount is simply an opinion with no value. Even so, my recount has more value than anything you could offer, and you know that. Otherwise, you wouldnt need me this badly. You wouldnt break knees for my goods. Even though you said outright that you didnt need me.

So why don't you leave me alone? Since you clearly dont care, which I refused to believe, because I actually fucking cared about you. Your opinion had reached me, but it held nothing and meant nothing, because it was genuinely valueless, and you know it, too. I had struggled to comprehend what you had meant. But I could find no answers. Or, literally anything.

Because there was no question to begin with.

So why is your entire staff body so hung up on a little minor teenager that wont just do your shit for you?

Imagine adults bullying children. I dont need to do that. Both contextuals.

I could really name drop each and every one of them right here. I remembered everything, jackasses. And all the people that did similar things, who weren't teachers, sure, but it doesnt look like theyre turning out to be great people. They will prove themselves anyway, if it is so certain that they are in any way great. And they're all scared of a nice child, like said child is nothing but a fucking murderer. I did not butcher your self esteems. You did that yourself. You couldnt handle one (1) literal child, and threw a collective, hissy fit about it.

And it really hurt. Because in spite of all that, this child really did care about you all, because maybe, this child didnt know love much. Maybe this child tried to learn it by maybe knowing you.

Maybe you failed this child completely and utterly. Not because you were obliged to do shit, I didnt care if you didnt care about me, but because you failed the bare minimum of being a respectful human being and dove straight into the negative-range, what kind of adults bully children like whatever happened back there?

I could detail every little thing and you will never not deflect it. I assume this makes you angry? Like it always does? What is making you angry? Please tell me then. Try me. I literally, dare you. I have nothing to truly hide, nor anything to truly lose. I am a human. This is the game of life. And you clearly don't know it. Because all of you were too weak, and none of you were capable enough, to face it, On your own. I may have said it once, or not, but I'll say it again. Here.

Nobody can live your life or do your battles for you. You do that yourself. Sometimes there are people beside you, all of various histories entangled with yours. Sometimes they help you. But they can only help you.

People can only help you. They cannot do it for you. This means, that by expecting everybody else to do it for you, that you yourself,

Have done absolutely nothing. Hm. And you say thats about how much Ive done over those couple of years.

Quite the irony, don't you agree?

Otherwise prove me wrong.

But I dont need your answer or not, to know that you can't.

You've shown enough of yourself before for me to pass this judgement. You give yourself more credit than necessary.

Indeed, you're just an exam center to me. Im just going into this, just like any other kid my age would enroll in a school. It is a part of growing up, and it taught me how to cement my change into the most hard to change minds. You absolute fucking mormons.

May god bless you because you will need it. Why? Why not.

Sueing me changes nothing, btw. Every normal fucking person knows, that doing that, is absolutely fucking bonkers, in the stupid way. And you dont even dare push that in the first place, you coward.

I deserve a place in this world. Maybe I am an asshole that deserves to die, even though none of you had the audacity to say this to my face, me, the worst being in existence, in your area like its blackpink babeyy. But you do not have to be an asshole like me, to be capable of being wrong, on more than one occassion.

And maybe, just maybe, you are an asshole too.

Let's both be assholes, together, shitting in harmony. No hand in unloveable hand, I dont like touching people.

Also short psa being a frequent sex haver or relationship haver doesnt mean getting bitches for real, if you still speak, talk, walk, exist in the form of an incel.

I know you all stared when I was in my prom dress. Nobody had the choice to look away, because nobody did, quite literally. Very surreal experience. I don't really recommend, I don't value the opinions for very obvious reasons. I know you liked all the art you saw on my notes, gory and barely finished honestly as most of them were. I possessed enough talent to make yall insecure, I get it. I dont like drawing. I killed you all with what little of what I am capable of that I showed.

This is the epitome of "Hounding people or even asking them about what, pubic hair yes no, doesnt make them like you romantically or otherwise, Louis. I also dont recognise that kink anywhere, never seen it, in Japan or outside of Japan, you weeb. Doxxing someone doesn't, either. Go back to 4chan, we don't like you. Trust me. They will kill you out there. Actually I was just kidding. Im gonna go crawl back in my hidey hole, and red headphones (ayy?) go explore the rest of tumblr, and do talk to at least 8 villagers, to progress to the next area. I know you're a gamer boy, amigo, you can do this, you got this."

Just go live your life and stop hurting people. Oh wait, none of you will do that. Perish then.

♡ not really ♡ go die ♡ or Call the local suicide hotline if youre really gonna go die

[octannibal-blake]

Hi !! don't know if you're still doing the drabble/prompts but if you are could you please do either 10 or 18! ❤️❤️

hello, nonny! i am here to fulfill your wish. i already filled 18 (kisses while sitting in one’s lap) and you can find that here. 

So, for you, I have completed 10 (staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in).  thanks for sending in the prompt! i hope you like it! 

i’m such a hoe for the enemies to lover trope i’m sorry in advance

“You’re a fucking prick, you know that?”

It’s taken Clarke what feels like hours to track him down at this stupid fraternity party, so when he turns around with a satisfied smirk on his face, she has to truly fight the urge to punch him in the face.

“How could I forget? You remind me every five minutes,” Bellamy takes a sip from his beer, seemingly content with his stupid ass prank.

When her phone beeps again, it takes every ounce of restraint not to launch it at his head. Just as she suspects, another text pops up on her screen featuring a very explicit picture.

“Jesus, how many people did you give it to?” she’s yelling, her cheeks flush in anger and frustration. He’s unbothered, having grown used to it over the years.

It’s a well known fact that she and Bellamy don’t get along. Ever since they arrived at university together, it’s been one grudge match after another. Hell, they didn’t even make it through lunch at Freshman orientation before they had to be separated because of their obnoxious debates over the most abstract things. They fought in History 102 about the historical accuracy of a movie they were watching, they were kicked out of Art History after he said something offensive (to her, at least) about an ancient painting, and this is not to mention the countless other pointless arguments they’ve gotten in (proper ways to make a grilled cheese, the dress is blue and not gold…). Needless to say, it’s been a tumultuous relationship.

“I’m a very wanted man, Princess,” he says smugly, reveling in the way her entire face seems to go red at the nickname. The crowd that’s begun to form around them (because their fights are always a spectacle) laughs.

When her phone beeps AGAIN, she doesn’t even bother to pull it out, “This is harassment, I hope you know.”

He shrugs before chugging the rest of his drink, “I need another one, how about you?”

As far as what she’s pulled together, Bellamy has managed to provide all his admirers with her phone number instead of his. It’s a smooth prank, it really is, but it’s also annoying as fuck. She’s received more come hither texts than she’d like, some of which have been unsolicited nudes. She’s no prude, she can appreciate the human anatomy. But not when she doesn’t ask for it. Plus, some of these people really need to work on their angles.

“This isn’t very Vice President like,” she follows him into the kitchen. He’s picking up bottles and sitting them down, seemingly indecisive about his next drink.

“Says the President who is currently attending a Frat party,” he counters and finally picks up what he was looking for. Fireball, of course.

Bellamy Blake has been a thorn her ass from the beginning, but the worst thing he’s ever done is run for Vice President of the Student Government association. It’s not that he isn’t good at it, she can admit that’s he’s pretty damn smart and savvy when it comes to strategy and the good of the Student body. But the only reason he even ran for the office is because she had been running for President. It was his way of getting back at her because she had really fucked up his senior year. Honestly, it wasn’t  even that bad. Plus, she had help. Her friend Monty (who just so happened to be dating Bellamy’s best friend) helped her hack into Bellamy’s school account. He had signed up for a particularly prestigious History class, some seminar on Ancient Greece, and had been gushing about it at their recent counsel meeting. She dropped the class and instead added a Calculus class to his schedule. If there was anything she learned about him over the years, it’s that he doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to detail. When he showed up on the first day and figured out what happened, the history class had been filled and he couldn’t get back in. Needless to say, he’s clearly still salty.

He slides a drink over to her and she meets his truce offering with a glare, “How many nudes am I going to get tonight?”

He laughs at that and pretends to think for a moment, “I don’t know, I’ve done quite a bit of flirting tonight.”

Flirting for him comes as naturally as breathing. All he has to do is smile and people fall at his knees. It’s no wonder he walks around with a god complex. Okay, she can admit, he’s attractive. He’s got the whole “hot intellectual” look going on. Muscle in the right places, unruly hair, and the glasses. Freckles pepper his tanned skin and his smile, well, his fucking smile.

“If I didn’t know any better, Princess, I’d say you were checking me out?”

Her cheeks flare all over again and she pops her hip out defiantly, “In your dreams, Blake.”

She feels a vibration in her pocket and pulls out her phone reluctantly, hoping maybe it’s just Raven letting her know she’s ready to go. No such luck. Instead she’s staring at a very unappealing dick pic and she’s just about had enough of the whole charade.

“Or maybe I was,” she says in the spot. He kinks an eyebrow in surprise.

She walks around the counter that separated him, and gives her best flirtatious smile, “I mean, don’t act like you aren’t into it.”

She doesn’t expect him to fall for it. It’s a cheesy charade and he knows her better than that. Yet his mouth opens slightly and she swears his eyes travel the length of her body, twice over.

“You know,” she’s practically purring now, something she didn’t even know she was capable of, “Maybe all of this has just bee a way for me to get you in bed.”

He scoffs and she realizes she’s gone overboard. Thinking as fast as she can, she runs her hand up his broad chest, admittedly impressed by it. He chokes on his drink. She leans closer to him, pushing her breasts into him and her lips graze his ear.

“Or maybe,” she whispers, “You’re way too easy.”

Her other hand, to his ignorance, is held just behind his head and with a sly smile, she pours the contents of her drink right on top of him. He yelps in surprise and she moves quickly away to avoid getting any on herself. The crowd in the kitchen comes to life, hooting and hollering over her bold move. Her victory doesn’t last long.

To her dismay, he simply runs a hand through his hair, pushing the newly wet curls from his face (and fuck, he looks hot), and smiles. It’s this moment, she knows she’s fucked. Suddenly, they’re launching drinks at each other and laughing hysterically as the whole kitchen erupts into launched cups and shouting college kids. She tries to run away but he’s too quick for her, catching her around the waist and picking her up. She squeals (yes ,fucking squeals) and she realizes she’s actually flirting with him, her arch enemy. Except they aren’t enemies at all, not really.

He’s the guy whose tortured her for years. Who she can’t hold a conversation with for five seconds without wanting to throttle him. The guy who walks around with an inflated ego and flirts with anyone who has legs.

But he’s also the guy who patrols frat parties to make sure no one is taken advantage of. The guy who mother hens anyone he cares about and more. The guy who stayed up with her all night to help her ace her History final. The guy who held her in his arms after a nasty emotional break down at the beginning of the year caused by working herself to death and losing her father over the summer. He’s the bane of her existence yet her anchor at the same time.

When she turns around to face him, the chaos around them stops for a moment and suddenly it’s just the two of them. His arms are around her and her hands are splayed across his chest. His eyes flick down to her lips and she follows suit. No one moves and when she glances back up, he raises an eyebrow as if to ask for permission and she tilts her head, daring him to do it. They both want to make the move but they’re both stubborn as hell.

“Fuck it,” he finally says and his lips are on hers in a burning kiss. She reacts immediately, her arms sliding around his neck and fingers tangling in his hair. It’s passionate. Amazing. Hot.

They don’t stop until the need for air becomes urgent and they’re both breathing heavily as he leans his forehead on her own.

“Damn,” he breathes out and she laughs softly, running her thumb along his jawline. 

Damn indeed.