#yapping nonsense i fear

[kimsangie]

every now and then hyoga kinda just appears in my head and suddenly all i think about is him. like get OUT!!!!! let me think about hot women!!!!!! but then i go "damn hyoga as a woman would be crazy" and then i think about hyoga AND women at the same time and i kinda go insane

i should draw him as a woman again....

[tetzoro]

good morning friendz and happy thursday !! if you listen closely, you can hear people all around the world quoting mean girls today bc why? well, it’s october 3rd 🙂‍↕️ i wish you all a wonderful day !! mwah !

[prongsfish]

*whispers in your ear* unrequited prince regulus x knight bcj *scurries away*

NOOOOOO WAHHHHHHHHH i can’t take this how could you… i could imagine either party being the one with unrequited feelings. i can imagine knight barty falling head over heels for the young prince he serves, meanwhile regulus can’t even comprehend the idea of such a thing, nor stop for one moment to even allow his brain to consider the people around him as anything other than background noise. he couldn’t ever imagine falling for a man if he couldn’t even imagine falling for anyone—in his mind he was born the fulfill his duties and part of doing that is marrying some princess for the political gain of his kingdom.

on the other hand, regulus always noticing that one knight, growing up alongside him… he’s been there for as long as regulus can remember and he’s always been so god damn beautiful, strong, smart… but he’s quiet and antisocial, he wouldn’t know how to talk to someone even if he wanted to. he’ll make a great king, but that training didn’t leave much time for those his own age. so barty never speaks with him, not truly, and he only ever sees regulus as that prince he’ll one day serve as he now serves his father. he never even gets the chance to see regulus as an actual human being because he’s never really been one, not out loud at least.

no matter which of them loved the other, neither of them would ever even have the words to express it. regulus is married off young. barty dies, not much older, in battle. regulus lives for a relatively long time, far too long for all he’s ever wanted to do with his life, but he provided an heir and led his kingdom well so when he dies, tired and lonelier than should be possible, he can convince himself that he was content with the way his life played out—that by fulfilling his duty, he was as fulfilled as he ever could be. in the end, he was never forced to confront that belief. he died consumed by an emptiness that he couldn’t even take notice of, let alone put a name to, but it was always there.

[aecholapis]

Tonight

[evie-sturns]

Chris Sturniolo Boyfriend Imagines

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very requested part 2 of matt sturniolo boyfriend imagines!!

summary: cute lil imagines!!

contains: NSFW at the bottom, nothing else just cute fluff!

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this man is definitely super clingy once you guys make your relationship official, your going out to the grocery store? he’s right behind you. he basically cannot let you go anywhere alone 😭

it takes a while for him to fully warm up to you because he’s scared of losing you by getting too comfortable, but once he finally 100% trusts you he’s not afraid to burp in your face! 🤠

you guys cook dinner together each night, even if your not feeling well Chris will drag you to the kitchen and then sit you down on the countertop and let you watch him cook, (he always ends up burning something so you are forced to get down to help him)

he hides it when he’s stressed but you can always tell so you go round to his house unannounced and just cuddle him in bed until he talks to you about what’s bothering him, it helps him when he talks about it with you so that’s one of the reasons he loves you. “thank you for listening to my nonsense..” “i feel bad making you sit here and listen to me yap”

when you guys argue he gets a little bit immature so you have to apologise first so he doesn’t get to hurt and upset, he doesn’t want you to be mad at him but he can’t bring himself to face you to apologise after an argument in fear of making it worse.

this man always has his hands on you to let everyone know your his, if you’re out in public he’s holding your hand, holding your waist, playing with your hair, it doesn’t matter where you are he’s superrr touchy.

he loves to pick you up, when you two are just standing around he will come and hold you above his head randomly while your squealing, laughing and flailing your arms and legs “chris i’m too heavy your gonna drop me!” “shut up y/n you basically weigh nothing.”

he HATES arguing with you, when you drive away from his house after an argument this man will lock his door and just cry, he will never tell you but he’s definitely a crier after you leave mad at him.

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the first time you two fuck he goes slowly at first but looses self control and starts pounding into you from behind 😭, then afterwards he gives you tons of words of affirmation and make sure you’re okay - “you took me so good baby” “ i didn’t go too hard yeah?”

he defo doesn’t give you enough time to adjust to his size, he’ll push all the way inside of you relatively slowly but then instantly start thrusting.

this man LOVES hair pulling, like he grabs your hair and pulls it for support and to keep him balanced while he’s hitting from behind, he always apologises after though 😭

he’s a slut for public sex, he will take you behind a bush and fuck you, he doesn’t care where you guys are he just needs to be inside you.

he loves aftercare and making sure your comfortable after fucking, like he’s picking you up and placing you on the countertop in the bathroom while he cleans up the inside of your thighs while telling you how perfect you are, then he doesn’t bother getting you changed he just places you into bed and cuddles you while rubbing your back.

he loves when you get on top, he gets submissive and try’s to hide it, but he’s pretty bad at hiding it 😭. like he will 100% be whimpering and arcing his back off the bed when he’s close while he holds your hips tightly. “f-fuck oh my god y/n i’m so close..”

he is a makeup-sex kind of guy, after you two apologise to each other and there’s still some awkward tension he’ll just take your hand and silently take you into the bedroom.

this man is a sucker for blowjobs, sometimes he’ll purposely act more stressed than he actually his just to get you to suck his dick to “calm him down” 🫢

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that’s all for today!! my requests are open so request whatever you want and i’ll probably write it

hope y’all enjoyed

[scarlet2007]

⊹ ₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ Late night talks ₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Batman x reader / Bruce Wayne x reader.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: After accidentally mistaking Batman as a criminal and spraying him with pepper spray, you both have seemed to form a friendship.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Pepper spray, mention of Gotham being dangerous.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 1.5k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

[ Masterlist ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Bruce has no idea how he got himself into this situation. Or rather... This habit.

It all started on that faithful night.

Walking alone at night in Gotham was like an one way ticket to heaven. A death wish, as some may say.

You sighed, looking around anxiously as you tried to walk as fast as you could. Every flicker of the night light, every random sound was making you jump in terror. You were half convinced that this was going to be your last day on earth.

You were just about to walk past an alley when you saw a shadowy figure stand menacingly at the entrance. The lights were flickering as the lamp above seemed to be surviving off of the happiness of the citizens of Gotham. Obviously, there wasn't much life left in it.

Red alarms started to go off in your head as the figure slowly started to move towards you. The heavy sound of its boot hitting the ground, the sound of your quickened heartbeat, the sound of the pained hissed that left the shadowy figure- Wait... Pained hiss?

It was only then you realised that you had sprayed the shadowy figure, Batman, with the pepper spray you were clutching while walking.

You gasped, staring at Batman in shock. He was hissing at the sudden attack, one of his eye half opened as he stared directly at you.

'I am so dead.'

Your eyes were wide before you shakingly reached into your purse, pulling out a small water bottle as you handed it to him, "I am so sorry! I thought you were some... Some criminal! Oh my- Splash this in your eyes! I am so sorry!" Half of the words sounded like nonsense due to how fast you were speaking.

He reluctaningly grabbed the water, splashing some water into his eyes as the affect of the spray started to subdue.

For a minute or two, nobody said anything as you both just stared at each other.

"What are you doing outside at this hour?"

"I am so sorry!"

Both of you decided to speak at the same time, which made none of you understand what the other person said.

"Come again?"

"I didn't hear-"

And it happened again.

"Speak."

"I am sorry-"

And again.

Finally, Batman seemed to have enough of it as he just stared at you broodingly, making you shut your mouth from fear.

"Why are you out at such an hour?"

You paused at his question, looking at him sheepishly, "Uh... Nightshift..."

Your answer made him raise an eyebrow which you didn't see because of his mask, "You shouldn't walk alone in the streets of Gotham with only a pepper spray as a weapon."

You nodded, looking at the ground as you suddenly felt like a child getting scolded by your parent.

Batman sighed as he stared at your figure, he can't just let you walk around at such an hour. Especially when it looked like you had the survival skills of a limbless cockroach.

"I will walk you home. Lead the way."

And that's how everything started.

"You haven't been paying attention to what I have been yapping about, have you?" You deadpanned, staring at him as he spaced out.

This made Batman blink, coming out of his chain of thoughts as he stared at the bowl of cereal you passed to him.

"Eat."

He blinked again, glancing at you in slight confusion before he started to eat.

He doesn't remember how this became a... Thing. It started out as occasionally walking you home from your nightshifts, then it shifted to him being injured after a rather brutal fight with a criminal near your apartment complex which made you usher him to your house for some patching up and now it has become a habit of Batman to swing by your window every once in a while, whenever he knew you would be awake or knew you had a day off.

You have come out of your shell fully, and now he knows you as the sassy and playful girl he once saved instead of the scared and timided girl.

"Eat up! You look like you have been starving since the dark ages, Mr. Dark knight." He let out an amused grunt at your words, rolling his eyes as he ate the cereal.

It was a comical scene, having him sit in your kitchen in his Batsuit while you lectured him about his poor eating habits in your pastel night gown.

You were an amusing person, a dramatic display of playfulness and sarcasm was always expected from you. Batman has seemed to grow fond of you and your shared time spent together over the past few months as he found himself looking forward to these meet-ups.

He has heard it all, from how much you dislike your job to how much you loved visiting animal sanctuaries to how you once crashed your friend's bicycle into different objects all under 15 minutes.

All these little stories would make him smile slightly while he worked in his Batcave. Alfred has heard all about you as well, the butler seemed to have grown fond of you as well despite never meeting you.

He glanced at you, watching you move around the kitchen as you washed the dishes. A thought passed through his mind.

He could help you.

Imagining him, Batman, helping you wash the dishes in his Batsuit. That would certainly be something you would die laughing at.

He shook his head slightly at the thought, focusing on eating the cereal you had given him.

"So, when are you going to leave your shitty job?" That made you look at him, slightly taken aback by his sudden question.

"Oh... Um... When I find a job that pays the same or more...?"

There it was again. The same answer you always give him. At first, he used to get irritated by your answer but now he understands your point. He knows the financial struggle you have gone through as a child, which has made you very anxious about having no job. All his attempts to help you fell on deaf ears as you firmly stated that you do not want money from your struggling vigilante friend.

He still has no idea why you think he is a struggling vigilante.

Does he look broke to you?

He sighed, glancing at the clock as he saw what time it was. The sun was about to rise.

"Do you have a day-off tomorrow or another night shift?"

You looked up from the dishes, glancing at him, "I have a day-off."

He nodded, walking up the sink to wash his bowl as you stepped aside to make space for him.

This is starting to feel oddly domestic.

"You should head to bed then." This earned a giggle from you as you looked at him with an amused expression.

"Aww, are you worried about my health?" You cooed jokingly as you leaned against the counter.

"You work at odd hours. From 8 pm till 3:45 am, it has to be one of the most ridiculous work hours I have ever heard of." He mumbled, scrubbing the bowl as he pretended to be annoyed at your playful behaviour.

You hummed, nodding your head in agreement before a small yawn escaped you, making Batman give you a 'I told you so' look behind his mask.

"See? You should head to bed." He grumbled, drying the bowl before putting it in its place.

"Alright, alright, I'll head to bed. Just make sure that whenever you leave, you close the window." He nodded as he watched you walked towards your bedroom, stretching as you glanced back at him.

He still has no idea how this has become something so normal to both of you that you just let him stay in your house while you sleep and he knows exactly where the bowl goes in the cupboard.

Bruce sighed as he flipped through the documents and files of the new Wayne enterprise project, his eyes narrowed as the sunlight from outside was starting to bother him. He could almost feel a headache coming in.

It has been weeks since he last saw you, he has been busy with his duties as a vigilante and the owner of the Wayne enterprise to the point he could barely find the time to visit you. Thankfully, you have left your old job for good so he knows that you are at least not walking around the dangerous streets of Gotham at night.

But he still can't help but feel worried about your financial state, to the point that he has voiced it out to Alfred a few times.

He sighed again, glancing at the door as he heard a knock.

"Come in!"

His eyes widened as he stared as you walked in, his new secretary.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. Alfred suddenly pestering him to appoint a new secretary, Alfred going out of his way to personal find him a new secretary. Everything is starting to make sense.

'That cunning old man...'

[grllmx]

"Ragatha in Wonderland"

🌻 Them side by side for height difference 🌻

Heya!! Y'all wouldn't mind some info dump, would ya?

But before I share my thoughts and ideas for this au, note that I am making this all for fun and that I am only merging two concepts at once because they sound fun in my head!

-- So without further ado, let's start shall we?

Ragatha in Wonderland is a fun silly lil' au I thought about in my spare time (Though I am aware that I'm not the only person who had similar ideas) buuut! Here's my take on how this concept goes ~

💜🟣🎀- - - - - RAGATHA IN WONDERLAND - - - - -🎀🟣💜

🌻 Wonderland is similar yet different from the Circus. Many possibilities await in this newly found land, but wait... How odd, suddenly everyone and everything is of new variation! Did things really stay the same? Are things different? It's a confusing world that warped and transformed the original digital land into something new. New places to explore, new outfits! New concepts... New people? It seems everything changed. Perhaps even... True death is possible now.

Ragatha - Plays the role as Alice. Confused and bewildered at first but Ragatha progressively adapts to the world and the surroundings around her. Acts like herself for the first portions of the story but as she dwells longer in this 'wonderland' she loses herself, her identity, as if the place was sucking out all of 'her'. She'll meet a lot of familiar faces. She feels comforted, knowing that she isn't alone in this newly found world but little does she know - they are not what she seemed.

Jax - The white rabbit leading Ragatha to wonderland. Jax was the one who dragged her in this, so Ragatha's first instincts was to follow him, hoping he knows where the exit is. Though he often plays tricks, teasing and playing with Ragatha's head whenever given the chance. Maybe he doesn't sound like a reliable shoulder to lean on, but he is Ragatha's key in terms of escaping wonderland.

Gangle - Starring as the mouse and the dormouse. The first person (other than Jax) Ragatha meets in wonderland. Gangle is skittish and has an extreme fear of cats. She does not like hearing or mentioning them, her mouse-like features says so otherwise. Though, in later unfortunate events, Ragatha scares her by mentioning, you guess it, cats. And then flees elsewhere.

Zooble - Following the (possibly tobacco) smoke trails, enters in the wise caterpillar. Meeting for the first time was not fun, in Ragatha's case mostly. Zooble asks Ragatha a lot of questions, typically centering around herself which gradually starts her descend into madness. Zooble's questions hit hard for Ragatha, making her realize a lot of things and learn more about the world. Though one question stuck the most, "who are YOU?"

Caine - The Hatter/Mad hatter. Need I say more? Hehe, anyways... Caine, alongside Bubble, is notably the most mad or insane person living in wonderland. Always yapping about random things (Riddles, jokes, factual statement... you name it) that can either be truth or made up, which Ragatha can't tell the difference of since they are always so surreal and deranged, or in other words, utter nonsense! He is another character that made Ragatha's mental state and mindset deteriorate. (Ragatha wishes to never meet him again)

Pomni - It's Pomni! Though, something is off... Pomni's role is the Cheshire cat. She's willing to help Ragatha escape, even suggesting ideas that felt to be possible, but are things really that easy? No, of course not! She is a red herring, a person filled with mischief that fools and plays with her victims until she deems them boring. Ragatha meets Pomni in the woods right after she ran away from Caine, and just like Jax, Pomni plays with Ragatha's head. But eventually helps her out and leads her to the kingdom's garden.

Kinger - Sometimes, a king is fit to be queen. Kinger is the Queen of Hearts, a short tempered, bossy but childish queen. After first meeting, Ragatha didn't deem Kinger as a threat at first, even playing a simple game of croquet with him. But as she starves and remembers that hunger was present in this land, she secretly ate the queen's well-known 'tarts'. This resulted into the seething rage of Kinger, declaring a court trial in which Ragatha was later proven to be 'guilty'. Hence, "OFF WITH HER HEAD!"

🌻 So, spoiler alert -- Just like in original tales and stories inspired by Alice in Wonderland, this was all in Ragatha's head, a dream! I'm debating to either turn this into a comic or not, because I think it helps further explain my ideas, but who knows? Maybe with the right motivation and energy, I might do it.

Thank you for reading! Have a nice day/night 🌻

[bubblybloob]

I dare you to draw smitten with either cold or the beast, you pick.

This is because I said I hadn’t gotten many asks for the Smitten, huh?

This might actually be a bit more Cold focused, long thing I wrote below.

There were fights, a lot of fights, actually. How could there not be? Eleven voices given form, only to be cramped back into one space. At least this time it was a house, not a body.

It wasn’t a bad thing, far from it; Hero wagers most were thankful for the permanent, familiar company, while the rest indifferent. Hero himself quite enjoys chatting or playing games with the others, it isn’t uncommon for him to seek out one of the voices simply so his stirring thoughts can have an outlet.

However, sometimes the others don’t click. Usually it was fine- Broken, Hunted and Contrarian seldom got physical. Opportunist and Paranoid might if they felt strongly enough about something to throw away their pretenses or fear, but they weren’t often the issue.

The rest tended to jump to bold accusations and wild conclusions, looked forward to it even. Skeptic occasionally found himself going from relatively mundane quarrels to all out brawls from causing accidental offense. Stubborn and Cheated had a tendency to get too excited about coming out on top in one way or another, and the other two…

Sometimes it felt like they only ever fought each other.

Okay, that was lie, Cold purposely ruffled the other’s feathers out of pure boredom. Hero wondered if he had made up some sort of challenge to see if he could get the non confrontational voices riled up for a fight, given how often he pushed their buttons. Once he flat out punched Contrarian in the face just to see if he’d retaliate.

If Cold couldn’t get them to crack he’d sigh with something akin to dejection and approach someone like Cheated, maybe Stubborn if he was feeling risky- pretty much anyone with a shorter fuse so he could get some form of thrill.

But they weren’t his go to, that would be- of course- Smitten.

“You vile, wretched thing! I won’t hear another word of nonsense out of you. Begone! Foul creature!”

“Call me all the names you like, you won’t get the response you’re looking for.”

It happened just about every other day: Cold would say something off putting, Smitten would respond with something that would offend anybody else, a bit of snarky back and forth later, and suddenly hands were being thrown.

“What are they arguing about this time?” Cheated grumbled, coming up to stand beside Hero, whose eyes were encircled by dark shadows.

“I ‘dunno, woke up to them yapping at each other, or at least Smitten’s yapping, I don’t think Cold has ever raised his voice.” Hero yawned out, scratching at his horn tuft.

“With how often those two are at each others throats, I think we should count ourselves lucky one is so soft spoken.” Cheated stretched his arms and body upwards, his wings instinctively snapping outwards and flapping as he tried to relieve his muscles. The large wings smacked Hero’s side as he did, which had the heroic voice stumbling backwards as Cheated mumbled a small “sorry” out.

“It’s fine. I think it’s less that he’s soft spoken and more that he’s sharp spoken. He talks like he knows where all your vitals are.” Hero responds, shivering at his own words.

Cheated shrugs. “Probably does, he’s our resident freak after all.”

“How is it then that you feel nothing? Without feeling one will rot away, yet you’re still here.” Seems Hero had missed part of drama during his and Cheated’s little chat. Smitten had now grabbed Cold by the chest feathers and was looking ready to tear into him.

“Who knows, really? Maybe I’m like a ghost, haunting the remains that our godly self expelled. Or maybe we simply can’t die, I haven’t eaten in a while.” Cold replies with a sharp whistle.

“Ooo, he shouldn’t be so candid about saying that out loud, never know when Hunted’s listening.” Cheated says behind a wicked smile. No doubt the avian had tucked the information away for blackmail, or to get a favor from Opportunist, who also found a new joy in digging up dirt on the others for his own benefit.

Hero was about to step in at this point. Smitten looked ready to let loose, and Cold seemed to be passively soaking in the drama of it all. But before Hero could open his mouth, Smitten’s hold relaxed, and his head hung low.

“No, I see through your tricks, scum. I will not loose myself to anger over frivolous things such as this. Leave, now, I must prepare myself for the morning time.” Smitten let’s go of Cold’s feathers, which were not bunched together and frayed. Cold hums something tired.

“Weak willed of you, can’t approach her killer?” Cold tilts his head.

A flinch. “I know what you’re doing, I won’t fall for it this time, villain!” Smitten whips around, and goes to walk from the conflict.

Cold’s wry smile falls flat on his face, he turns his head toward Cheated.

“Not today pal, Paranoid seemed extra twitchy though, probably didn’t get much sleep. It’s still early and he isn’t fully alert in his head, might be able to start something up with him if you push hard enough.” Cheated suggests. Hero punches him in the arm, just when he thought there would be no morning fight to put down.

Cold’s brow raises, evidently interested in a fight with someone who rarely raised his hands. He moves past the two, already on the prowl for their jumpiest member.

“Troop on, you emotionless fuck- ow, stop that!” Cheated yelps when Hero punches him again, this time a little harder.

Cheated’s words seemed to have stopped Smitten in his tracks however, he mutters something to himself, and whips back around. “You can’t be as dispassionate as you claim! You’re merely afraid of your own feelings!”

The accusation makes the Cold stop dead. His expression is hidden, but Hero swears he sees his feathers puff out. He expects them to quickly flatten back down.

But they don’t.

Cold slowly turns the upper half of his body, his face looks… almost strained. His composure had finally cracked.

“Hmm?” He darkly hums. It’s an oddly moderate response, given how Cold takes any and all opportunities to tease whomever he talks to, especially for outlandish claims such as this.

They were outlandish… weren’t they?

Hero had a bad feeling in his gut, one he couldn’t explain.

“I’m right.” Smitten looks a little surprised, before a damn near elated expression creeps onto his face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Cold doesn’t respond, still half turned to leave. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t swayed in the past ten seconds. Hero wonders if he was still breathing.

“You aren’t unfeeling at all, are you? You’re full of emotion! What’s is it then that makes you push them under the deep, dark waves of the heart? Fear? Want? …Guilt? I can guess what it’s for.” Smitten continues with his theory, the Cold still hasn’t retaliated.

“Ooo, might be onto something there, Smitty.” Chester looks almost excited as he says this. His words seem to encourage Smitten further, who puffs up under the praise.

Cold stands there.

“Go on then, tell us the harsh truth, fiend. You’re no emotionless husk.” Smitten moves closer and closer to Cold’s position. Hero wonders if he should put himself between the two, but he can’t say he isn’t interested to where this is going.

Smitten stands face to face with his Cold counterpart. Hero swears Cold shrinks back under the close attention.

“You’re afraid.”

For a moment, they stand there, a stare down. Hero briefly hears the faint phantom sounds of glass breaking under the weight of godhood.

In a blink Cold draws his arm back, and his fist connects to Smitten cheek.

—

WoooOooO cliffhanger that might never keep going.

I’m unsure if this is common theory or whatnot, but I’ve not for a moment believed Cold was emotionless. I think he’s hurt by what’s happened to him, so much so that he thinks being emotionless, acting only to entertain will bring him some form of twisted comfort.

I think he’s too afraid to let himself feel, so he pushes his feelings far, far down, and pretends he feels nothing. He’s so good at it that he believes it to be true.

He’s so good at ignoring both physical and mental feeling that he himself believes he is nothing but a thrill seeker. In reality, his emotions, his physical needs, it all hurt him, so he squashes both.

Think about it, you usually get him by killing the princess in cold blood, and then subsequently stabbing yourself. Both hurt him. He only knows hurt from both, so he throws them aside.

[divinit3a]

✸basics

call me pom! o _ u ☆ ☆ they/he & an adult 👍 ☆ artist & writer, full of silly schemes ☆ @divinitea-cafe for spam reblogs & tomfoolery - this blog is in queue jail ☆ taller than you (lying voice) ⚠️⚠️⚠️ fun fact alert! i made my mascot a pomeranian bc that was the first icon i made for my ao3 years&years ago. any pom gets wifi fans left out there?

✸the wares i peddle

art #pom draws || writing #pom writes || memes/goofs #sillies rambles/asks #pom yaps || fic/AU recs #cafe menu

✋🛑 Hold on, Friend. 🛑✋

Here there be goblins. AKA, There will be elements of robot gore, horror, body horror, and eye-strain in my work. I'll always tag it as such, but if that is not your cup of tea, here's your "get out of jail free" card!

✸ ☆ ✸ ☆ ✸

📝 currently writing. . . 🎭 just keep playing along || #playing along (sfw, BUT tw: violence, mechanical horror) | fnaf SB adjacent ↪ sun ☆ moon ☆ eclipse 🎣 (wip) an animatronic mer au || #catfishing au

‼️ do not repost my artwork! do not use my art/writing for AI! ‼️

Beyond that, I am ok with folks using my artwork as icons/banners with credit! 💚💚💚 If you like what nonsense I get up to, (aww thanks!!) I'd love to see your take on whatever meme, AU, etc it is! I always enjoy being @'d for anything related :D

asks are open and I am always down to yap ^-^ 💚

✸lay down the law

I understand that minors will follow/interact with this blog, though its contents are intended to be (16+) while im happy to encourage young creatives on their artistic journey, we cant be friends if you are a minor. please unfollow/block me if you need to!

i dont personally draw/write explicit nsfw, but artwork/writing may be scary or spicy.

Reblogs and fic recs will be marked as nsfw/sfw.

Blog is intended for FNAF!! sorry, i dont know the webseries... but feel free to still treat my art as whatever u fancy :3 i aint the fun police!!!

✸my cup of tea

i love horror, looove, and absolute tomfoolery. silly, surreal situations are perhaps my favorite ones to orchestrate. y/n is simply another barbie on the chessboard ^-^ ;; lets play toyce?

focusing on the robotics. waiter give me ten more please

i adore everyone's AU's and renditions of the DCA!! every time i find a new one i am amazed by ppls creativity!! i am eating every single cake deliciously. i hope to draw fanart of the all the au's & fics i love, but i fear there are many. so many.

✸ on the backburner

⚙️the mechanics assistant || #assistant au (sfw, BUT tw: robot gore, false start) | help wanted adjacent

✸thanks for havin' me!!

[nessiandefenseattorney]

honestly fuck all you anti idiots out there

it’s not even a fucking joke anymore, like why in the name of the father, the son and the holy ghost are all of you so fucking lifeless that the only thing you do is spread hate all over the media surrounding acotar?!

“I aM AnTi RhYs He iS aN AbUsEr”

“I Am aNTi NeStA ShE iS a BiTch AnD sHe ABuSed FeYrE”

“I aM aNtI CaSsiAn hE DiDnt DeFenD HiS mAtE”

“I Am anTI FeyRe ShE bEcaMe RhYs’s BrEeDiNG mAchIN”

“I aM AnTI InNer CiRcLe ThEy aRe HyPoCritS BeCaUse NeStA wASn’T GiVen A cHoIcE iN ThE bEgiNnInG oF AcOsF”

Respectfully Shut. The. Fuck. Up. the only goddamn thing you do is yap and yap nonsense that doesn’t even make sense to those of us with functioning brains. I came on this app to hear wholesome theories about my favorite couple and post my own hc but to my surprise all I found was just hate towards anybody with an opinion.

Why do you think ppl hate the acotar fanbase? let’s work our brains for a second (I know that to you idiot haters that’s a foreign concept) Ohh Ohh! I know! because you all suck! everybody is so fucking caught up in their own little bubble of hate and stupidity that they forgot the entire point of a FANDOM, so let me explain very easily so even you dumb dumb idiots can understand.

A fandom is a community of people who ENJOY a piece of media and they are gathered on a certain platform of social media to discuss and celebrate the thing that they are fans of.

A fandom is NOT supposed to be a place where everyone is shitting on other ppl for which characters they enjoy. A fandom is NOT a place where you have to FEAR to post your headcanons because some asshole out there might send you DEATH THREATS. A fandom is NOT supposed to be a place of toxicity and blind hatred.

A fandom is supposed to be something sacred shared between people who enjoy the same thing, a place where you can express yourself through fanwork dedicated to characters who bring you comfort.

So now that we have established the concept of why we are posting what we post can we start to actually ENJOY acotar and not shit on the series and author we claim to love? because if all you do is spread hate towards the characters that make this series what it is then what is even the point of you being a part of this fanbase?

In conclusion anti fucks please go out of your room for once in your life and touch some grass and maybe who knows you might even make a friend that’s as delusional and insane as you are.

[lenaperseveranceoxton]

You know, I shouldn't have just expected my previous post to not gain attention after saying "MORE PVE MIGHT BE ON THE WAY???" I'm mostly just here to scream into the void, but now, here I am, forcing Maximilien fans to read through my incessant yapping about Tracer to get crumbs for their boy.

This IS a blog for Tracer only, though. If I was a full-blown Overwatch content creator, then I might've compiled all of Maximilien's voice lines into one video, but alas. That doesn't mean I won't leave you all empty-handed, either!

If you want to see/hear the voice lines for yourself, the file extraction tool can be found in the #tool-releases channel of the DataWatch Discord server. (https://discord.gg/XM93ZdB) There are two ways to extract files, one of which is using DataTool, but for our current purpose, you'll want to use TankView. Disclaimer, though: You can only use the "Only view new files" option if you used the app previously. The tool can't tell what's new by scanning the game's files, it just stores a cache of everything from the previous update you used it for in your AppData folder.

To save you all some scouring, I'll write out some lines I found interesting so that you don't think I'm talking nonsense: Here are some lines that sounded like he was giving heroes upgrades before a match: "A friend of Akande's is a friend of mine." "Miss Chase? What a welcome surprise." "Nothing but the best for Akande." "Ah, Lacroix. A pleasure, as always." "This is my most exclusive stock. Have a look." "Tell me... what are you in the market for, hm?" (I understood that reference!)

Here are some other lines that interested me, though some make more sense to me than others: "I remain thankful for Lacroix's failure." "I'd expect no less from the Voice of Rio." "Now I understand Ramattra's fondness for you." (RING RING RING! RAMMAX ENJOYERS, EAT UP!) "Talon is right to fear you! Heh." "Let bygones be bygones, hm?" "When we escape, I'll pay much more than thanks." "It's good being on the same side again, isn't it?"

Okay, so after I made the initial post, I did some thinking, and it IS strange they randomly published an entire story centered around Maximilien without an explanation not too long ago, right? One that reinforced the idea that the water's getting too hot for him to stick around Doomfist?

Let's assume this IS for a PvE mode. I'm really hoping it is. Would there be a Story Mode and an All Heroes mode like older events? Because when you remove the lines for Talon heroes, it does sound like Overwatch is helping him escape, no? That last line HAS to be for Baptiste, too, right?

Don't mind me. I'm just biting at the bars of my enclosure right now.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

espresso with a side of depresso

series masterlist

liked by mickschumacher, bradleywillsimpson, zoyatorres and others

maejonesverstappen just wanted to put out a little song before coachella 🤎 espresso 4/11

view all comments

rhysjones i fear for my mental sanity every time you drop a new song.

estebanocon please no more songs with inuendos

↳ maejonesverstappen 🤭

↳ lancestroll we are so fucked.

user82 i too am also praying no more songs about max jones-verstappen's dick.

↳ user45 she has us all traumatized

isabellaperez what's the point in dropping music if i'm no longer around to terrorize jos?

↳ maejonesverstappen now whose choice was it to leave?

↳ isabellaperez THAT FACT IS IRRELEVANT!

alex_albon ma'am we are begging please stop singing about max's dick or your sex life.

user51 okay but she looks so hot? can max verstappen fight?

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 *max jones-verstappen does not condone hitting women but point me to the nearest track in your area and we'll settle this on the track like real men.

↳ user51 i'm a woman?

↳ maxjonesverstappen wasn't aware gender mattered on the track? but fine *we'll settle this on the track like real people.

danieljonesricciardo as long as it's not another nonsense or nonsense christmas we'll be fine guys. so fine.

↳ user30 this is the embodiment of the dog in a room on fire saying 'this is fine'

georgerussell63 no doubt she's getting ready to further traumatize us. twice just wasn't enough.

lewis hamilton my blood pressure has suddenly skyrocketed. anyone want to tell me why?

alex albon why do you always have to assume it's our fault? lewis hamilton it's always you people

isabella perez mae's dropping a new song.

lewis hamilton that explains so much. please tell me there's no references to max's dick.

mae jones-verstappen i can't promise that.

george russell WHEN WILL THE TORTURE END??

daniel jones-ricciardo probably when they have children to embarrass.

charles leclerc if max keeps winning everything, that'll probably be soon.

rhys jones woah! gross! child here!!

lando norris that's the circle of life baby jones! well, maybe not soon.

logan sargeant i think she enjoys torturing us with mentions of max's dick in songs.

max jones-verstappen can we stop talking about my dick please?

zoya torres TELL YOUR WIFE TO STOP WRITING SONGS ABOUT IT!

mae jones-verstappen 🤭🤭

daphne jones-ricciardo oh she is so proud of herself.

rowan todd of course she is. it's like pierre making a tripod joke.

fernando alonso sebastian i am begging you, please come back. put these animals under control.

sebastian vettel aren't you the one extending his contract to become the oldest driver in f1 histroy?

lewis hamilton hey, i'm still here!!

sebastian vettel he's older!

isabella perez i'm still going to torture jos. he's not get away from me simply because i no longer work for red bull.

rhys jones THE TORTURE JOS VERSTAPPEN CLUB HAS OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCED A NEW MEETING!!

max jones-verstappen stop torturing my father!

dulce perez but you two make it so easy for them

daphne jones-ricciardo children. all of you.

liked by maxjonesverstappen1, rhysjones, tatemcrae and others

maejonesverstappen triple shot...espresso out now ☕️

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user63 how the fuck did max verstappen end up with her?

isabellaperez oh wow. ditch the husband and marry me please!

↳ maejonesverstappen we can run away, ditch the husband and the boyfriend!

↳ isabellaperez say less baby girl

↳ oscarpiastri no, please say more.

↳ maxjonesverstappen i agree say more.

user09 oh she's so hot. please marry me.

user56 good thing your daddy made you get a boating license when you were 15.

nataliaruiz woah, how did verstappen ever end up with you??

↳ maejonesverstappen his insane yapping rizz somehow woo'd me.

user79 you're so pretty. i love you.

rhysjones how did you release a summer bop but daph is releasing the world's most depressing album?

↳ maejonesverstappen it's called versatility baby brother. you play a war criminal, daphne is depressed, and i sing about things i shouldn't.

↳ isabellaperez like max's dick!

baileywinters you gorgeous, gorgeous girl.

↳ maejonesverstappen 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

user61 it will always surprise me that daphne and mae are related. it's no surprise that mae's related to rhys but witch daphne's it's a shock.

liked by maxjonesverstappen1, rhysjones, tatemcrae and others

maejonesverstappen espresso btsoo ☕️

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maxjonesverstappen1 woah. marry me??

↳ maejonesverstappen maxie, we're already married.

↳ maxjonesverstappen i am one lucky man.

maxjonesverstappen1 that smile 🥰

maxjonesverstappen1 i love you

↳ user42 max jones-verstappen, certified simp for his wife.

↳ user28 he's never beating the trophy husband allegation. this is why he and daniel get along so well, they were made to be trophy husbands.

user56 good thing your daddy made you get a boating license when you were 15.

coreyfogelmanis how did that man end up with you??

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 stop bullying me!!

↳ coreyfogelmanis oh as her best friend it is my job to bully you

user10 i have never been more in love with women than i am now.

dulceperez that's one pretty girl. marry me?

↳ maejonesverstappen i would rather not be chased down by a rabid leclerc

↳ arthur_leclerc i am not rabid mae!

↳ louis_graham you chased me through the streets of monaco with a rolling pin because you thought i had a crush on dulce.

↳ arthur_leclerc that's not true!!

freya vettel me? you? beautiful blonde babies?

↳ maejonesverstappen i'm sure we could find a way

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 okay, mickschumacher come get your girlfriend before i block her.

↳ mickschumacher oh but this is so funny.

user06 SUMMER BOP RIGHT HERE!!

user17 oh mae jones-verstappen sure knows how to write a summer bop.

sebastian vettel why did you have to speak of honeybees that way?

mae jones-verstappen seb, please.

mick schumacher you might actually make him cry.

freya vettel he's definitely going to cry.

sebastian vettel i don't understand why we had to speak of honeybees that way?

rhys jones WHAT ABOUT THE NINTENDO? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO RUIN THAT FOR US TOO??

alex albon she ruined christmas now she's ruined honeybees and nintendos

mae jones-verstappen okay, now you two are being dramatic. i didn't ruin anything.

daphne jones-ricciardo how to you look sophie in the face? because it took me months to look grace in the face after i released dress.

penelope trevino it's a talent!

lando norris okay mayores, calm down

rowan todd and this is why i'm glad i never wrote a horny song about a french man.

bailey winters or me about a british man

pierre gasly wow imagine what it would be like if my girlfriend loved me.

rhys jones maybe she'd love you more if you stayed at red bull considering she's a red bull fan.

pierre gasly daniel, i swear to god, keep that kid away from me or i'll strangle him.

daniel jones-ricciardo okay, rhys, maybe we shouldn't attack the driver.

rhys jones he drives an alpine. i'll be safe.

logan sargeant lmao!

lance stroll who pissed off the pipsqueak?

arthur leclerc my guess is pierre.

pierre gasly all i said was percy jackson would get beat up by harry potter and now he's all pissy.

rhys jones BECAUSE YOU'RE LIKE YOU CROISSANT! PERCY GREW UP IN NEW YORK!! HARRY GREW UP IN FUCKING ENGLAND!

isabella perez yeah, i agree with rhys. there's no way harry beats percy.

charles leclerc but harry has a wand?

dulce perez and 9 times out of 10 he only uses expelliarmus.

logan sargeant have none of you read the percy jackson books? percy controls water, he 100% beats harry.

lewis hamilton this is just another way for you people to do the whole uk vs usa argument.

isabella perez WHAT'S A STICK GOING TO DO AGAINST A GLOCK?

fernando alonso i beg, please god give me strength to deal with these idiots

esteban ocon why are we having this argument?

rhys jones because i'm right and pierre is wrong. he just won't admit it.

mick schumacher i fear our brains need to be studied for science.

carlos sainz i think katniss beats them both.

rhys jones STOP CARLOS OR I WILL NOT HOLD BACK!!

daphne jones-ricciardo he's very passionate about this carlos. please don't make him attack you.

carlos sainz i retract my statement

rhys jones I'M RIGHT AND EVERYONE WHO DISAGREED WITH ME IS WRONG SO SHUT UP!

natalia ruiz never a dull moment with you people. never.

sebastian vettel i seriously question my life whenever someone sends a text that starts an argument in this group chat.

isabella perez YO NICO ROSBERG'S GOING TO BE IN CHINA!!

george russell BROCEDES REUNION INCOMING!!

rhys jones more like nico yapping about lewis

charles leclerc you can sit i my garage for the race weekend?

rhys jones LET'S GO!!!! A WIN IS A WIN BITCHES!!

max jones-verstappen traitor

daniel jones-ricciardo traitor

rhys jones I AM A TIFOSI FIRST AND BROTHER-IN-LAW SECOND!!

fernando alonso i don't have the strength to deal with this.

isabella perez remember to stream espresso!!

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @applopie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @mypage-myfandoms @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @minmira95 @casperlikej @formulaonebuff @hopenshaw @ijustgomessitupx @hwalllllllelujah @doodlehunz @prongsvault

¡leclerc-s speaks! i'm not going to lie, i've been watching grey's anatomy for the first time and that's why i haven't been posting much. but today's the day guys!! i also don't know how or why this devolved into what it did towards the end.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[lambilegs]

does it happen in a season? (part three: SPRING)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

last chapter (WINTER) | next chapter (SUMMER i)

soundtrack: the closer I get to you - roberta flack and donny hathaway; the cutest pair - regina song; I like it - debarge; crush - ethel cain; fade into you - mazzy star; weak and I'm so into you - swv; april encounter - hen meiwei; k. - cigarettes after sex

(contains: 21K words of more pining (yeah you know I keep doubting the word count could go higher but then gay longing and yapping take over so I apologize 😔), college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, content warning for: smoking cigarettes, jokes about cigarettes, description of transphobic and anti-sex toy-historical ideas (sex wars of 1980s), more religious jokes ofc, internalized homophobia, religious trauma, depictions of homophobia + fetishization of lesbians, sexual content, depictions of anxiety)

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SPRING. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

“okay, I think we need to make a pros and cons list,” maria says decisively, taking out her notepad and pen. 

“stop that right now,” amaya interjects, ripping the pen from maria’s hand. “the only con is the roommate thing.”

“which, might I remind you, is pretty significant,” maria points out, stabbing her pen in the direction of lee, who watches the entire interaction in a conflicted mixture of amusement and frustration. “even if you two get together, sure, it’ll be a pro that you guys know how to live together, but still, if something happens, it’ll be messy.”

“or you guys could stay together forever, and it all ends happily ever after. and you’ll also have one of the sweetest meet cutes known to man,” amaya supplies, tucking her hands under her chin and wondrously staring at lee, who averts her gaze in embarrassment, 

it’s been around a month and a half since she admitted to herself that she likes you. 

at least back in january, she had two days away from you to process it at her house before returning to the apartment. the more she thought of it, the more it logically clicked together. the moments of tension and pausing to look at you – for too long. the way she sometimes felt the strong urge to do things unreasonable, nonsensical, or even against her character, just for you. the fact that she wanted you to know her. it all made sense in the framing of her having romantic feelings for you. romantic. even the world itself tasted odd in her mouth, and felt out of place. she had heard people say that once they realized their feelings for someone else, it felt natural to think romantically of that person. but, not for lee. it had felt awkward and foreign to think of you in that way, at least with intentionality. she was used to thinking of you as her roommate and her friend. it felt jarring, this new development. 

the train ride home had had each nerve of hers prickling with anxiety. she didn’t know how to proceed. things had finally started to feel easy, and now, there was this newfound feeling to account for. should she tell you? just the idea of that sent a nauseating sense of fear through her. should she hide it? the avoidant nature of doing so felt a bit more comfortable, but still, the idea of never telling you felt wrong. she felt the need to form at least some plan. it was never in her nature to simply go with the flow. but, the end of the trip had offered her no clear answers – every side had its pros and cons, its negatives and positives.

before pushing her key into the apartment, she had taken a moment to brace her back against the opposing wall, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to release long, quiet breaths. she liked you, so things would feel different – she knew that. but, things didn’t have to be different. she didn’t want them to be different. at least not yet. what you guys had was good – it was a steady stream of support, care and, well, something comforting. she didn’t want to destroy that by confessing. or by letting her feelings take control of her.

of course, like a lot of propositions in her mind, that was easier said than done when she finally had to face you. when you scurried out of your bedroom to meet her, she was immediately hit with the thought of what if things were different? what if instead of pausing in front of her, breathing hard and smiling, you could leap into her arms? just like how a girlfriend would. her breaths nearly shuddered at the word. girlfriend. it also didn’t help how overcome with emotion she had felt in that moment. leaving you, and the apartment, three weeks prior, had been all too difficult, her mind urging her to memorize your face. the three weeks had had her thoughts mostly entrapped by her mother and her house, but, every now and then, they had strayed to you – wanting to share something with you, wondering how you’d like the snowy trees surrounding her house, or just wishing you could be near. seeing you after those long three weeks had felt like taking a breath of fresh air after remaining inside for too long. she was gripped with a strong sense of relief and comfort at the sight of your face, feeling like she was finally back in familiar and safe territory. 

she was also more anxious than usual in that moment. there was something new present, and it threw her off: her feelings – well, at least the realization of them. she supposed they had been there for a while, so technically, nothing was truly changed. but, still, looking at you and seeing not just her friend, but also, someone she… liked, made things feel different. it made her more self-conscious of her own actions and words, wondering if any could potentially indicate her feelings and cause you discomfort. the pressure of the interaction had felt like too much, so she had excused herself and slunk away to her bedroom. it took forty three minutes of lying on her bed and trying to steady her thoughts before she went back to you.

at first, she opted for remaining as quiet as possible, asking after your break, and listening intently while you ranted about being assigned to babysitting duty for your cousins when out, and how chaotic it was. by the time you were done, she had learned the name of three of your cousins. it didn’t seem all that significant a piece of information, but it had to do with you. that gave it some importance. 

her plan to remain quiet had crumbled when you paused after telling her about something you had felt was unfair towards one of your cousins, blinking at her, clearly awaiting an answer. stronger than her resistance towards saying something revealing was her desire to not disappoint you. so, she responded. and you did, too. and that gave her some assurance. maybe to avoid talking on her end would only make things worse. maybe if she took such a preventative measure to avoid saying anything awkward, she’d be shifting the dynamic prematurely, anyways. besides, above all, avoiding mutual conversation with you seemed… impossible. she wouldn’t last long, she knew that.

at one point, you had halted, staring at her, and she looked away from you, fidgeting with her hands, waiting for whatever it is you wanted to say. 

“I, um… I really missed you.”

now, her response to something like this no longer felt solely dependent on her natural inclinations and comfort levels. because now that she knew she liked you, her responses to such sentiments felt heavy with the weight of potentially being something you either do and don’t catch a hint from. and she didn’t want you to catch a hint, she didn’t want things to become messed up with you. 

but, how could she have said anything but the truth to you in that moment, when you were so open and waiting? “thanks.” she had paused, lips pressed together. “I missed you too.”

with time, as the crush – whatever it is – settled into her, things between you two had naturally gotten back to their usual routine and comfortability. every now and then, she still had the temporary moment of worrying over if a word or gesture could be indicative of her feelings. but, it wasn’t nearly as much as before. there was no use in resisting the feeling. it was there before she had even realized it, so she doubted she could do anything to change its existence. not that she really wanted to.

she was content to let the feelings linger. and to continue being your friend, and trying to proceed with how things had been before – how she cherished things being, as embarrassing as it was to admit it. and not act on the feelings, since she didn’t want to ruin things. after all, she truly had no idea of knowing if you felt even remotely close to romantically interested in her. 

however, she soon learned that not acting on it was a lot different than not wishing or desiring to act on it. 

a month and a half later, and she had decided to tell her friends, craving someone to confide in this secret to. she didn’t want to mince words, so as they waited on their orders, she bluntly, abruptly said she thought she liked you. amaya had nearly choked on her gum and maria’s water burst from her mouth. both were equally shocked, though amaya whirled into delighted bliss and maria into skeptical worry. 

“listen, I thought there was something there since the protest, but–”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

maria ignored amaya. “but, I thought of it more later that day, and it could be risky, lee.”

this led to where lee is now. listening as her friends make a pro and con list. she doesn’t really mind it – it is a structured way to objectively look at things. but, part of her doesn’t really care. she likes you, and that’s that. she also doesn’t plan to do anything about it, at least not in the foreseeable future, so listing the cons of her doing so feels fruitless.

when she says as much, amaya frowns. “why? your feelings might be reciprocated, lee.”

lee hesitates. it’s a nice thought… a really nice one. but, she doesn’t know with any certainty. sometimes, you do and say certain things that make her entertain the possibility for a split second, but she always labels it as wishful thinking, knowing her own feelings must make her at least somewhat biased. besides, the things you do that she questions could be done with solely platonic intentions in your mind. she truly has no way of knowing. 

“I don’t want to mess things up,” she mutters, picking at a napkin.

“and that’s fair,” maria replies. “it’s your roommate, and–”

amaya raises a hand. “shut up. lee, don’t listen to her. you experience a crush, like, once in a blue moon. please don’t let this opportunity slide. seize it for yourself.”

maria rolls her eyes. “god, you’re such an english major. there are consequences that could come of this, you know? if her feelings are returned, something bad might happen which can sour the living arrangements. if her feelings aren’t returned, then things might be awkward for both of them.”

“guys–” lee softly says, trying to intervene.

“and you’re such a law major,” amaya bites back. “so pessimistic. like, what about a third option? one where they both like each other, and have an amazing rest of the year living together, with more to come.”

“amay–”

“and, and,” amaya presses on, “the roommate thing is the only con. so, I don’t see why she shouldn’t go for a relationship.”

“well, for one, we don’t even know if a relationship is in the books.”

it’s the truth, but a part of lee aches at hearing it. even if she knew it was in the books, she would still be terrified at the thought of shifting what you guys have. but, another part would feel at least a lot more assured in inciting such change.

amaya sighs. “which is exactly why she should confess.”

“guys,” lee repeats, a bit louder this time, capturing their attention. “I… I don’t think I’ll be confessing anytime soon, so, there’s no need for a list.”

as maria crumples up the paper, lee’s mouth twitches in discomfort, a twinge of regret curling in her stomach. she wishes she had at least taken the chance to tell them all the pros about you.

–

on saturday morning, you stand at the sink, scrubbing away at a bowl while lee makes sunny-side-up eggs. she brought a radio with her back from her mom’s, saying it’s one she found tucked away in the living room. when you had asked her if her mom wouldn’t need it, she said there was already another one at home, and the one she brought had been kept for a while. it was such a simple line, but somehow, the way she had said it felt laced with hesitation. you wondered at it, but she then turned the radio on, so you assumed she wanted to drop it.

a few weeks later now, as the news radio plays in the background, you carefully wash the kitchen utensils, gloves getting heavy and crinkled with soap. as the scent of eggs waft through the kitchen, you can’t resist the smile that tugs at your lips. this is sweet. this moment with her, quiet and relaxed in its domesticity. you feel like you could remain suspended in time forever, so long as lee is in the kitchen with you.

after ten minutes of the calming, repetitive motions of scrubbing and wiping, lee places a plate next to you on the counter, the white surface accompanied with a fried egg and toast. “eat. we can finish the dishes after.”

we. we, we, we. she won’t even let you do the dishes alone, sweet thing.

“you know, I think the weather is officially good enough to open the windows,” you announce, reaching for the latch of the window in your living room, pushing it open. a chilled breeze drifts in, goosebumps rising to your skin. your neighbourhood is showing the signs of winter’s last push before succumbing to spring, the skies grey, slush streaking the roads and snowflakes melted into cold rains.

“yet, you still insist on the tree,” she says flatly, curling into the couch, her plate resting on the plush arm.

you look back at her, smirking. it’s march, but still, you find yourself unable to part with the tree. you two had put it together so soon before the winter break, and had only gotten to really relish in it starting from mid-january. it’s so pretty, and it seems too little an amount of time to have enjoyed it before taking it down. “I know you like it too.”

“mm. maybe,” she quietly mutters as you sit on the other side of the couch. her tongue rolls in her mouth, eyes flicking between you and the cushion between you two. it makes you itch to move closer to her, but you don’t. 

“just ‘maybe’?”

her lips curl up. “if I admit to liking it, you might keep it up till summer.”

you chuckle with a shrug. “so? it’s our apartment, we can do what we want.”

“or do what you want,” she immediately replies, the lines near her eyes crinkling.

“even better by me,” you giggle.

“good to know my rights as co-owner are intact.”

you laugh. “no, no, but truly, should we take it down?”

she pauses, eyes resting on her lap for a few moments. “no.” when she catches a glimpse of your triumphant grin, she rolls her eyes. “shut up.”

your laughter slowly melts away, and your eyes ponder on the tree with a soft smile. “did you ever… I don’t know, have any odd shit like that in your past places? something equivalent to our post-christmas christmas tree.”

“no, not really. I was never friends with my past roommates.”

“why not?” you know you’re shamelessly prying by asking this, but you can’t even bother to care. if learning more about her and her life is prying, then so be it. you need it.

“I don’t know. we were either just amicable. or, well…” she guiltily glances to you, shrugging, “I didn’t like them. or they didn’t like me.”

your eyebrows furrow. as a roommate, lee is great. she’s organized, consistent with chores, she keeps to herself and doesn’t hog any rooms, and she never touches your food, even when you’ve told her she can. “why would they dislike you?”

“my second year roommate thought I was rude. she, I don’t know, made a lot of comments about how I act and how… off-putting it is.” she sucks in a small, shaky breath, head turned away from you. she seems hesitant to offer such a piece of information, and your mind becomes consumed with the task of ensuring her that she can trust you.

“that’s not true, though. yeah, you’re quiet and all, but that doesn’t mean you’re an asshole. you just take time to open up, is all.”

“I suppose she disliked the fact that I never did open up to her, though. I wasn’t the most receptive.”

“why weren’t you?”

she pauses on the question, eyes scanning her lap. “I don’t know. it just felt off. and from what I saw, I knew she wasn’t someone I’d be friends with. so, I didn’t see the point.”

the words are blunt, bordering on harsh. but, lee manages to speak them in a way that’s so earnest and raw that you don’t even flinch. she doesn’t say them maliciously, with bitterness or snideness prickling the edges of the syllables. she’s simply a person who trusts her intuition and knows what she wants. in a way, she’s admirable. your initial surprise morphs into something akin to impressed respect.

“yeah, but, even if she took it rudely, it was up to her to discuss it with you – not just assume you’re some jackass. especially if you never even did anything outright rude.”

“maybe.” she shakes her head slightly. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” she adds, her voice sounding small. “I just knew we wouldn’t get along.”

you frown, waves of sympathy rolling in. “hey, and it really isn’t rude. you just didn’t want to waste her time or yours.” it was an unconventional approach to have taken, sure, and against societal niceties, which so much of the time were fake, anyways, but it was just the honest way to proceed – a tact that not many people relied on. 

“yeah, maybe. she, um…” her eyebrows draw in, and her voice tinges with vulnerable embarrassment, “once, in front of her friends, she said something about me being unfriendly.” the admission is said in a low, shame-filled voice. 

“hey,” you coo again, hand instinctively reaching to her shoulder, you chest nearly bursting when that part of her relaxes at the touch. shit. she actually eases at your touch. that’s new. and it’s so good. you force your mind to remain on the task at hand. “that is horrible. seriously. to say that in front of other people, and humiliate you like that –  that’s messed up. I’m so sorry.” the more you think on it, the more rage begins to pulse in you. how dare someone treat her that way? you can imagine how timid she must’ve felt in that moment, the discomfort that must’ve choked at her, being spoken to like that in front of strangers. she’s already closed-off and reserved enough as is, and it makes you livid to imagine how much this stupid roommate’s comment had increased her natural inclinations to stay away from others. “you didn’t deserve that, lee. really.”

weakly, she mumbles, “thanks.”

“please tell me you know that.”

“I don’t, not really,” she says, sighing. when you give her a narrowed look, she says, “but, I’ll try to see it more that way.”

“good. and, well, you know, I’ll be here, too. to remind you.” your eyes flick over her face, feeling the skin of yours warm up at your own tentative offer.

she finally gazes at you. “I know. thank you.”

she knows. she trusts you to give her that comfort. that’s more than enough for you.

–

lee relishes in the soft padding of the rain against the window as she flips through her reading, scribbling down notes at each paragraph, highlighting important terminology. the noise is a soothing one, making her feel like the edges of her mind are softening and lulling her into a smooth stream of work. she happily loses herself to it, growing more and more satisfied as she progresses.

in the middle of it, her pager beeps and she picks it up. it’s from you, and the message consists of the number of your address. it’s your guys’ way of confirming if the other is home. she punches in the numbers back, sending it to you. 

moments later, the phone rings. despite your message having hinted at a call, she still starts at the blaring noise. she stands from the desk in the living room, and reaches for the phone. “hello?” 

“hey.”

she breathes in deeply at the sound of your voice, something stuttering inside her. what is wrong with her? she’s heard your voice countless times. “hi.”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll probably be home a bit later than five. the rain is getting kind of bad here, and I left my umbrella, so, yeah…”

she chews on her bottom lip, stomach stirring with worry. “are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah, I am. just don’t wanna get sick, so I’ll stay in the library till it ends. it’s okay, I’m okay.”

she nods at your reassurance. “okay. I’ll wait for you before eating.”

your following laughter makes her wonder if her words had been too revealing and needy. but, then, you say, “I’m glad,” and she sighs. she’s glad too, but to vocalize two such sentiments in a row feels like a lot.

when you both hang up, she seats herself back at the desk, continuing to do her work. two lines in, she stops, setting her pen down, listening attentively as the taps of rain harden. the more the rain pierces against the glass, the antsier she feels, shifting and picking at the spirals of her notebook. an idea swims in her head, one that had been present since you had notified her of your dilemma on the phone. but, she shouldn’t act on it. she has a lot of work. besides, she trusts you to be okay. you can handle yourself just fine, she knows you can. you waiting at the library, and returning home at a later time, is more than manageable for you. she knows this.

she lasts three minutes before standing up and retrieving the umbrella you had left on the counter. jesus, she’s losing herself.

when she reaches the campus library she knows you frequent, she slows in her steps at the sight of you sitting on the bench outside of it. you’re shielded by the roof, and your walkman is on, eyes languidly exploring the street shining with droplets. she sighs, coming to a full stop. you look… good. she blinks at the thought. you look more than good. you look, as uncomfortable as it is to admit, otherworldly, wrapped in your own private dream world, lost in the early spring day. what are you thinking of? do you like the rain? she wants to know these things with a desperation that catches her off guard.

and most of all, she wants to be near you.

she quietly approaches you, not knowing how to initiate conversation now that she’s here, having gone out of her way to do something for you. she supposes it’s not the first time she has, but this feels different. she can’t think of any clearcut reason for this moment, this gesture. you had required no support, no help. she’s simply here because she wants to make your evening easier and for you to be home sooner. the nonsensical reasoning makes it harder to know how to proceed socially.

you tip your head up in her direction, eyes widening at the sight of her. “lee?” 

she gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

your eyes flick to the umbrella. “did you come just to pick me up?”

she swallows hard. it’s interesting – how embarrassing it can be to just care. now that the impulsive seizing of the chance has been ridden out, and she’s facing you in the aftermath, she can’t help but feel the awkwardness of her own gesture. “um, yes.”

your cheeks lift and crinkle with a wide smile, and she bites her bottom lip at the sight, feeling her stomach turn. “lee, oh, my god, that’s so nice of you.”

she sighs, turning away. “it’s nothing.” raising the umbrella, she says, “let’s go. it’s cold.”

you two take the subway together, and as you walk home, she lets her eyes explore the surroundings of your guys’ neighbourhood. small, green buds have already started dotting the branches of the trees, and the sky is a dull, melancholic shade between blue and grey. the wind has lost enough of its itching chill that she’s gone back to her blue windbreaker, but still holds enough teeth to cause goosebumps to rise on her skin. she peers down at you and your short sleeves, frowning. “why are you wearing so little?”

“ah, slut-shaming me now, lee?”

she rolls her eyes, ignoring the joke. “it’s cold.”

“I know, I know, don’t scold me,” you practically whine, body racking with a shiver.

the small jolt of your body immediately sends her into motion, her next action complete, raw instinct. she silently pushes the umbrella into your fist, shrugging off her jacket when you clumsily catch the handle. 

“lee, lee, no, please, it’s okay,” you protest, your voice hooking onto a higher notch.

“mm,” she hums, awkwardly placing her jacket on your shoulders. her movements are stiff and she feels the flurry of unfamiliarity swirling in her stomach. this is a new kind of touch, one that feels strangely more intimate than her previous ones shared with you. it’s stupid, considering she’s laid her head in the crook between your shoulder and neck, has slept next to you, and has felt your arms hold her. but, this touch is the kind of typical thing you see in films, and it carries a distinctly romantic connotation. brushing her fingers on your shoulders, feeling your bare skin, encircling you from behind to drape the fragment of clothing on – it’s so close, but so fleeting, and she holds her breath for the moment it lasts. 

staring straight ahead, lee grabs the umbrella, resisting the urge to stretch her fingers out after having felt the dry texture of your skin. she inhales a sharp breath, eyes continuing to take in the buildings.

“thank you,” you murmur, and she gulps at the husk at your voice lowering, nodding wordlessly.

“so, how was your day?” you ask idly.

she tilts her head in your direction. “good. my new forensics professor is a really good speaker, and has a lot of knowledge on the topic.”

you beam. “oh, that’s great. better than your last one?”

“in terms of investment in the topic, yeah.” a small smile curls at her lips. “in terms of letting it slide if I miss an exam – let’s hope I don’t have to find out.”

“hey, do the cross just to be certain.”

she simpers, hand easily sliding into the gesture, years of practice refining the skill to perfection. it’s done out of humour, but the gesture still brings forward a burst of mixed emotions. to do such a gesture after months – it feels foreign as a movement. but, with it, comes a slew of memories of praying at church as a child, waiting for clarity abour herself as a teenager, and on what it was, who it was, she wanted. she doesn’t believe in her religion the way she once did, and her stance is that if there is a higher power, it’d be hard to know the facts about them. but, still, she sometimes sees something odd, hears about something miraculous, experiences something locking exactly into place, and she wonders if there’s a god behind it. and if there is, what if that god is ashamed of her? what if the fear she felt in high school was the right way to live, and everything she’s been doing since has been sin? the kind of sin her mother has fervently feared and despaired over ever since she was banished to their lonely, cold corner of the world, and the years of loneliness that ensued from this. when these thoughts occasionally come up, she tries to just ignore them. she’s worked so hard to get to where she is, and has gone through many back and forths. to be able to call herself a lesbian without shrivelling up is already an achievement for her. and she doesn’t want to go back to feeling like a sin.

at the same time, the movement of the cross isn’t unfamiliar. it’s estranged with how little she does it now, yes, but doing it feels akin to an estranged friend returning home. there’s a familiarity of it, tinged with the memory of doing the sign with her mom as a child, when her little hand would be held, and guided in which way to go. another memory is how lee would practice as a child, scared someone would judge her in the shadowed aisles of the church. the gesture carries history, even one she sometimes wants to forget. however, no matter what, it’s inexplicably tied to her mother and days of innocence. two things she can never let go of, and would never find in herself the ability to try in doing so.

you poke her arm. “c’mon, tell me more about the class. what do you like about it?”

she hesitates, but it seems you really want to hear, so she talks about it, going on an unintentional tangent regarding the information. it’s a course she’s already done, yes, but her new professor has sprinkled in so many details and facts that itch a part of her head in total satisfaction. and you listen attentively, asking why she likes this, and remarking on how cool a piece of information she offers is. it makes her warm with gratitude. 

you tell her about the projects initiated by the Gay and Lesbian Alliance group you’re a part of, such as an upcoming zine to mark the end of the year. lee listens as attentively as she can, nodding to your excited rambles. you hold so much passion, and to witness it is like basking under the warm heat of the sun. she twitches at the thought, the content of it a bit too poetic for what she’s accustomed to.

she also can’t help but feel appreciation for the community you’ve found, as well a glad you’ve secured it. she only has two close friends, and a handful of vague, or class-limited, companions, and rare and far inbetween have any of them been gay. in high school, it was nearly non-existent. not even in her school, but in her town. for a long time as a teenager, it had felt like she was the only person who knew what it was to feel those things. now, especially when attending a university that has an organization centered on people like her, she knows that’s not true. but, sometimes, just sometimes, she wonders what it’s like to be surrounded by people who she doesn’t need to describe her experiences to, who silently understand her. she wonders if such community would help in killing the last remaining bits of shame lingering in her, which are always aroused whenever she visits her house.

maybe some day.

when a car whirls by, spraying water in your guys’ direction, she mutters, “here, come here,” smoothly changing your places so that she’s walking closest to the edge of the road.

“no,” you nearly whine, tone complaining. “you already gave me the jacket, and how you’re also on the sacrificial side of the road?”

“‘sacrificial side’ is a tad dramatic.”

“no, no, not when you’re liable to getting sick.”

she shrugs. “no more than anyone else.”

“um, that is not true. you are definitely more liable when you’re skipping meals and up at odd hours of the night.”

she rolls her eyes, embarrassment creeping through her. of course you pick up on all of that. she can’t tell if the gentle scolding is something she likes, or something that makes her want to crawl into a hole. maybe both. after all, she so rarely lets herself be the subject of affection, so the experience of it, especially from you, is one that has her touched and wanting more of. at the same time, it’s mildly humiliating that the person she likes is aware of all her flawed habits. “it’s not that bad.”

“yeah, okay,” you scoff, tugging on her wrist. “come back to the other side.”

“no, just stay–”

“no, no, we each get something, then–”

in your tugging and her pulling, the umbrella drops to the ground, and lee immediately stiffens and winces at the sensation of the april showers soaking into her hair. you instinctively cover yourself with her jacket, your shirt underneath clinging to every curve and dip of your body. despite the cold, wet stickiness of her shirt clinging to her, she can’t help but quietly watch the sight, something stirring in her. you look good. really good. she feels her breaths get heavier. if you were hers, she could take you back to the apartment, and undress you, worship your body, warm it with her own, and kiss every one of those spots, over and–

she gulps down hard, averting her eyes. she distracts herself by picking up the umbrella, lifting it over you two. you’re laughing at the moment, hair soaked, eyes crinkled, and she bites back a smile. “stop. it’s not funny,” she gently chides.

“it is – just a bit,” you giggle. 

she shakes her head, a smile cracking through. “less than a bit. don’t get too ahead of yourself. you’re the one with the jacket, after all.”

“oh, yes, you poor thing, how could I be so inconsiderate?” you drawl in a mocking tone. “let’s get you home right away.” you don’t wait for her, continuing on your way home.

and she follows. like she probably always will.

when you two reach the apartment, and you take a good look at her beyond the chaos of the rain, your eyes widen. “oh, my god, lee, you’re drenched! go, go shower right now.”

before she can even process the words, your hands are on her back, pushing her in the direction of the bathroom. “but, my clothes…”

“I’ll get them, you just go shower.” your eyebrows are furrowed, mouth pinching down, and she wants so badly to brush her thumb over it and make it better. “where are they?”

she hesitates. she usually doesn’t like people entering her room on their own, and knowing this would be your first time doing it makes her a bit uneasy. but, it’s not because she doesn’t trust you – which is the reason she often dislikes the notion, paired with her privacy. it just feels a bit exposing. but, she wants you to know she trusts you, so she nods, and quietly confirms, “second drawer has my home clothes. third has… my intimates.” her voice lowers for the last words, feeling her face heat up.

you chuckle. “noted. I’ll hang it on the handle.”

she nods, shutting the door with a soft click. when she hears your footsteps quickly pad away, her forehead leans on the surface. god, what if you think her underwear is weird?

–

you burst into her room, again momentarily caught off guard by the meticulous cleanliness and lack of objects. as you step to her dresser, movements fast, you smile at the sight of a book on her bed, the remaining pages very few based on her bookmark’s placement. The Power of Myth. the book you got for her birthday. you will your mind to focus and whip around to the dresser.

in the flurry of rushing for lee, guilt gnawing at you for partially being the reason she’s now drenched, your movements work too fast for your brain and you open her first drawer, eyes scanning for her clothes. when the contents reveal themselves to your gaze, you suck in a sharp breath, reeling back with an abrupt, shaky step.

fuck. it’s a dildo and harness.

your stomach is a tornado of flutters and flips, and you feel almost light-headed at the onslaught of sensations. you gulp down nervously, and take one more peek into the drawer. after a moment, the guilt of snooping invades your senses, and you push the drawer shut with a loud bang. what the fuck is wrong with you?

with hands that feel lighter than usual, you tug her second drawer, and pick out sweats and the red sweater you sometimes see her in. you open the third drawer, and swallow down at the stack of plain bras, and comfortable, unpatterned underwear. she even has some men’s underwear, plain shorts-shaped underpants. you feel an embarrassing, feral, flustered sort of heat at knowing what she wears under all those modest clothes. 

☆

god, you sound like an absolute fucking pervert. you cringe, selecting a pair of grey underwear and closing the drawer with a heavy breath. you walk to the bathroom, neatly tucking them into the outside handle, trying not to rattle it too much, feeling almost as though she can sense the lust and shame through the door. you pause, listening to the shower run. without warning, images flash into your head of what she must look like, naked and wet, lean, gentle body coated in shining drops. fuck. you clench on nothing, backing away and to the living room.

your mind is swirling with thoughts. why does lee have the dildo? okay, well, that’s a stupid question. obviously, she’s using it for something – she didn’t buy it to study the damn thing. though, that does sound like an oddly lee-esque thing to do. your mind skitters with the possibilities. lee has always seemed so solitary that it was difficult to imagine her having an active sex life. of course, you had wondered about and considered it before, and you knew it was a possibility. but, this confirmed it more than anything. 

although, you suppose it could be something she doesn’t use on other people frequently, a thought that relieves you temporarily. because, truly? the idea of her frequently using it on different people makes something sink its claws into your gut – jealousy and childish anger. the notion of her using it on one specific person makes you feel even fucking worse. casual hookup, friend, girlfriend – you don’t care. you don’t want her to make love to someone else, especially someone who she wants enough to go back to, whether it be due to intimacy, an emotional connection or just good sexual chemistry. you don’t want her sinking it into anyone but you. 

it’s not the first time you’ve had such a thought. your feelings for lee have stirred and expanded like a lovely, permanent stain on a couch for nearly a half-year now. of course you’ve had the thought of what it’d be like to be hers, to be the person she carries on her arm, the one she kisses goodnight. of course you’ve thought, even fleetingly, about how she’d make love to you. but, the possibility of her potentially being with someone else – having a girlfriend, having someone who she might be going back to for sex and growing closer to – finally rearing its ugly head, and for the first time in a very grounded, very possible form of evidence, makes you squirm in what can only be described as devastated rage.

maybe it’s just something she’s saved from a past relationship, and is waiting to use on a future partner. but, why would she keep it in such an easily accessible spot? maybe she uses the dildo on herself. god, now that is a mental image that sends your body shifting on the couch. lee on her back, bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead, eyebrows scrunched in focus, lids wedged shut in pleasure, pushing that dildo in and out, set on pleasuring herself after a long day. god, does she use it when you’re out of the dorm? is she on the receiving end when or if she uses it with other people? at that last thought, the low burning embers of arousal are now washed out with ice-cold water of other people.

you still, focusing on the sounds ringing through the apartment. the shower is still on. feeling rather relieved at not having to face her yet, you sink into the soft cushions, head lolling back onto the edge. god, lee…

she’d probably be so patient pushing it in, just taking her time until it’s fully sheathed in your pussy, pushing your walls apart and filling your hole till it’s flush with the silicone material. maybe she’d hold your thighs apart, observant eyes drinking in the sight. or perhaps her shy, awkward nature would have her burying her face in your neck, holding you close and breathing you in as her hips thrust in and out slowly. you grind down on the couch without thinking, feeling yourself begin to grow sensitive. how else would lee have sex? would she relish sliding her fingers into your wet heat, letting the long size of them stretch you open? would that little satisfied grin she sometimes gets rest on her face as she watches you squirm and shiver? 

you freeze at the noise of the door creaking open before shutting again. she probably opened it to get her clothes. images flash in your head of a very soaked and wanting lee, pushing your back against the tiled wall as she pounds into you, soft lips skimming the skin of your neck. you rub your thighs together, feeling your center ache and dampen.

☆

when the door opens again, and you hear lee head into her room, you force yourself to sit still. you try to think of something else, but your thoughts keep straying. it’s impressive, in all honesty, that she has one. you remember being in high school, and hearing your peers’ debates regarding if the use of dildos was too phallic-centered for feminists, and if using sex toys was a betrayal of the cause. the sex wars were all you guys spoke about for a long time – reading articles and engaging in long talks about the dissections regarding ethics and what was considered sex that did or didn’t align with feminism. for a long time, you had been overwhelmed and conflicted with all the ideas. now, you know better. not every penis is aligned with, or even remotely related to, heterosexuality or being a man. not every phallic-object is either, and there’s nothing shameful in taking pleasure in it. it’s relieving in a way, to know lee probably feels the same way. after all, you still knew some people in your feminism class who avoided sex toys. despite being involved in the same movement, you're very much on an opposing side there -- clearly, considering your reaction to lee's toy.

when she walks out in her fuzzy, red sweater, brown hair lying damp along her back, bangs combed back, you curl into the couch, praying to some invisible force that her observant eyes won’t catch any telltale signs of where your thoughts had been. she glances at you, and you look away. relaxed, fresh from a shower and barefoot – she’s the picture of casual domesticity, and you gulp as she brings a glass of water to the couch, sitting on the other side. 

she nods at you. “you should shower too.”

“mhm, yeah, in a sec.” you pause, a deep ache in you yearning for some answers. you know it’s forward of you, too forward of you, to pry into lee’s love life. but, you’re desperate to know, for the fear of her being with someone else, or just as bad, wanting someone else, gnaws at you like a bitter virus. “lee, can I ask something?”

she tenses up. “okay.” 

“I was just wondering because, you know, you haven’t mentioned it before, so I just got curious…” you force yourself to continue, ignoring the whirling butterflies in your stomach almost triggering a nausea in you. “do you, um – are you dating? like, anyone?”

her eyes immediately widen, blinks alert and intense. “why are you asking me this?”

damn her curiosity. “I’m just wondering. we never spoke of it, you know.”

she sips her water slowly, as though the question demands caution. that scares you, and you hold your breath in anticipation. finally, she mutters, “no, I’m not dating anyone.” 

you nearly release a sigh of relief, pinching your lips together to keep it trapped inside. still, there’s one more inquiry drawing a finger of temptation along your throat. “but, um, do you want to? date anyone?”

her dark eyebrows, soft and striking, draw in and crease her forehead. “are you asking if I… like someone? or if I generally want to date?”

you pause, not even certain of which you desire to know. both are important, despite having initially meant the former option. you swallow hard, trying to force the tone of your voice to be casual and light-hearted. “well, you can answer both.”

she sighs, the noise short and sharp. you hope you’re not annoying her, the idea of such a thing sending a wave of insecurity rolling through you. but, still, you remain silent, needing an answer.

“I’m, uh, open to dating if it’s the right person. but, it’s not something I’m actively pursuing.”

“like, you’re not actively pursuing someone, or the very concept of dating?”

she looks at you, puzzled. “I don’t understand. what do you mean by ‘the concept of dating’?”

you suck in a heavy breath, starting to feel frustration build up. “I mean, do you mean you’re just not actively pursuing anyone right now, or are you also not actively pursuing dating in general – blind dates, set-ups, that kind of stuff?”

“oh.” she shakes her head. “I’m doing neither.”

your shoulders slump, unable to tell if you’re relieved, or conflicted even further. if she isn’t actively pursuing a specific person or dating, then that means she’s not committed to anyone – and perhaps that she doesn’t have her heart set on a singular person. but, her vagueness and lack of answer for whether or not she likes someone begs the question of if she really does want someone. which, in turn, would make any pursuit of her from your side fruitless. but, you can’t find it in yourself to pry more. she already seems uneasy with the line of questioning, and you yourself don’t know how you’d proceed with any answer she has to give. if she says yes, she does like someone, you deal with the gruelling clash of wishing it’s you, not knowing if it’s you, and dealing with the sour possibility of it being someone else. if she says no, there’s the relief that her eyes are reserved for no one, but then, does that mean she doesn’t see you in that way? of course, you have wished for her to like you back, and have pondered on the possibility. so, if her answer no means the latter, does that mean you have no chance? that you ought to give up? no. asking her directly would be too tumultuous, too confusing. 

“are you… dating anyone?” she asks, her voice small. you wish it could be because she doesn’t want you dating anyone – but, it could just as much be because it’s a vulnerable topic and lee is, well, lee. you try to ground yourself through these little pockets of hope that open for you.

still, you’re eager to make it known that you’re extremely single. “I’m not.” after a pause, you can’t resist asking, “why?”

lee shrugs, eyes trained on the ground. “you asked me, so I just thought of it.”

you sigh quietly. could she be any less interested? you feel petulant suddenly, wanting to remain silent until she finally admits something, anything. but, maybe, there really isn’t anything for her to admit. maybe she isn’t interested. you’ve known this the entire time that she might not be. you’ve pointedly reminded yourself of it when getting too lost in your daydreams, and too tightly gripped by the conviction that maybe she returns your feelings. the possibility of her not seeing you in that way always strikes a deep, burning sting into your mind. still, it’s not her fault. and summer is fast approaching, as is the end of your guys’ lease. if you’re going to be losing her in this close, intimate way, inevitably so, you’d rather the loss not occur early due to your own childish irritation and stubbornness rooted in your feelings.

and, so, you talk. but, you cannot find it in yourself to completely move on from this topic, not when you’ve managed to bridge the awkwardness in approaching it and may not have the nerve to do so again in the future. “you said you would date if you found someone right, right? what does – well, what makes someone right for you?”

her lips tighten together, forehead’s lines deepening as she momentarily ponders the question. “I just want understanding, is all.”

you cock your head. “what do you mean?”

“I don’t need… something, you know, really grand. someone right would just be someone who knows and accepts me. someone who understands, and who I feel comfortable with understanding me.”

the admission is tenderly spoken, her voice low and hushed, a sweet blush to her cheeks. her jaw is clenched, revealing the tension she feels at such a topic. but, her words, like always, are honest and pure. it makes sense. she’s someone who takes so much time to open herself up, someone whose every, miniscule layer counts for something as it’s pushed away to reveal her true self. she wants someone who knows her beyond those reservations, who knows and sees her for who she is. someone who has the patience to travel through the outward impressions until they know her through and through, and who will embrace the parts of her she chooses to trust them with. with someone as private and solitary as her, it makes sense that the person she wants to love is the person she doesn’t have to explain herself to. does she feel that way with you?

you grow curious as your mind wanders to her lack of lovey-dovey language. it’s lee, so it’s not surprising that her language is so somber and objective. but, you want to dig into her brain a bit more, see what she thinks of romance, soulmates, love – the whole lot of it. you’re sure your feelings for her are also instigating the burning itch to know more, but it’s also the fact that lee never seems to talk much about this stuff. up until this point, she’s seemed totally indifferent to romance, and it makes you long to know more. “but, love? what about love?” does she maybe not care about that? does she only want companionship, but without all the heavy emotions?

“for me, what I described and… love are the same thing.” she sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, then moves her head up, eyes suddenly latched onto you with unwavering focus. “it’s what lasts longest.”

“past all the passion and heat?”

she clears her throat, eyes darting away. “yeah.” after a moment, she asks, voice tentative, “what do you look for?” she watches you carefully, sharply, from the corner of her eye.

you hesitate. what do you look for? it’s not like you have zero experience, you’ve definitely had your fair share of getting-to-know-you stages and dating. but, it almost feels like those past experiences, rather than leave you sated in singlehood, have only increased your want of something new. your conception of love, and learning what it is and isn’t, has been a winding, directionless journey for years. from fleeting, mind-consuming, temporary infatuation, to heartbreaking obsessions, to mild attraction in what was better off as a friendship – you’ve experienced a range of it all. a share of good experiences, but definitely a lot you would’ve forgone if it hadn’t served a lesson. it’s made you tired and worn, and scared to try again, but you’ve always known that as soon as affection and its power worms its way into you, the doubts you have pale in comparison. perhaps you’re young enough that your past experiences, and their eventual failures, haven’t totally crushed your hopes. in fact, they’ve just made you overly eager for something that’ll last, something that’ll feel completely right this time.

“well…” you shuffle in your seat, suddenly on edge with the weighty question and her complete silence. “I guess my answer is a bit different than yours. I’ve had good experiences, for sure, but also a lot of mediocre ones. and I guess after having experienced heartache more than once, I just have even more of a, like, longing for something that’s really romantic and long-lasting. like, the mediocrity and breakups have only made me crave something that’s both right and will be forever – even more.”

“so, you’d like something special?”

you can’t help but smile. special is exactly what you need. “yeah.” 

“and long-lasting?”

your eyebrows furrow. “uh, yeah? why?”

her voice is so quiet, continuing to drink her water. “just asking.”

in the silence that follows, you feel the need to explain yourself further, just so she doesn’t feel put off by your answer, in case she, well – you push away the possibility. “I’ve just had experiences that have all ended.” you huff out a humoured scoff, realizing how badly you’re stating the obvious. “I just mean, well, I’d like to not go through heartbreak again, so I want a relationship that feels right when I enter it. you know, no doubts. the other stuff is just me being tired of things ending or not feeling right, and just wishing for something that could be romantic, right and also just last long.” as you keep speaking, your tone shifts to one that’s more heightened in both passion and frustration, hand gestures flailing.

lee’s nostrils flare, and a muffled laugh leaves her mouth. “yes, I can tell.”

you roll your eyes. “you know what I mean.”

her smile softens before melting away. “yeah. I do.” her head angles in your direction. “you deserve it.”

you swallow, feeling your legs tingle from the anticipation of her saying something like that. “you do too.”

she hums, and that’s that.

–

when lee decides to accompany you to a party on a friday night, she truly wonders what’s become of her. you two aren’t even dating, and she’s practically putty in your hands. when you had asked her about attending a party hosted by a friend who had in last semester’s mythology class, you did it with a laugh, and she knew it was because you expected her to give a resounding no. your head had snapped in her direction when she muttered a quiet “sure,” eyes wide. at first, she herself wasn’t even sure why she said “yes.”. all she knew was that you were going to be somewhere, so she’d rather be there than at home by herself. jesus, what a weird thing to feel.

maria practically burst into laughter when lee called her to confirm her attendance, and after she joked about how amaya would have a field day, lee rolled her eyes and hung up. It’s been so long since she last felt this way, and frankly, she had forgotten just how humiliating it is for her friends to see her in such a state.

on the subway ride there, you plug both yours and her headphones into your walkman, an offer of sharing music that she quietly accepts. you two sit like that, side by side, in the rumbling movements of the subway, silently listening to SWV together. other than the initial tension she feels at listening to something as romantic as Weak with you, it’s rare for her to feel so comfortable like this, so at ease with sharing a lack of words with someone else. she often won’t instigate a conversation if she doesn’t need to, but she will be cognizant of the way the other person might be reacting to the silence, and that, in turn, makes her feel uncomfortable too. it’s always just been easier to be alone than to have to grapple with the subtle and inescapable expectations of interacting. it always takes a while before she can truly feel comfortable sharing the emptiness of a space with someone, even longer to totally stop worrying. but, she’s at that place with you now. and you’re there with her, too. she can feel it, in the way you slump next to her, shoulder brushing hers, and in how your head leans back on the seat, eyes wandering along the cart. she wants to ask you what you’re thinking of, but she doesn’t want to interrupt this moment.

when you two reach the party, she sighs in relief at the sight of it less packed than the one she had attended in october. still, her mind scans her surroundings as soon as you both enter, trying to gauge just how many people are present and how stifling it may be.

in the middle of this, she feels your hand, warm and soft, slide into hers. her stomach tightens at the sensation, and she breathes in a shuddering inhale. she knows why you’re doing it, and the knowledge of that makes her feel only more exposed and pulled at the seams for you to stare upon. she wonders if anyone looking this way suspects that the two of you are a couple. a pleasurable tingle simmers in her stomach at the thought. images flash in her mind of you guys dating, and this sort of hand-holding being expected everyday, on every walk. it’s a nice thought, and she grinds her teeth together at the aching longing she feels inside. she can’t help but admit just how good it feels to think of having you in that way. but, she knows she shouldn’t become hopeful. not when she has no intention of pursuing you.

when you two start moving through a narrow hallway, making your way to the living room, people crowding in, she grips your hand harder and gratitude floods her chest when you return the squeeze. 

her eyebrows suddenly furrow, eyes darting to your interlocked hands. when had she stopped tensing at your touch? her mind searches for the moment, but she cannot place it. the realization makes her equals parts awed, surprised and uncomfortable. it has been that gradual, she supposes. her hand flexes in yours. how did you do this?

as you two approach the fireplace, she tenses up at the sight of maria and amaya, prematurely cringing at the earful they’re going to give her at this sight. her suspicions are confirmed when she catches the eye of maria, who smiles at her, then, after glancing towards your interlocked hands, whispers to amaya, who’s suddenly alert, very obviously seeking you both out.

when you guys move close, lee’s lips firmly press down, sending her friends a sharp look that she hopes shuts them up. 

of course it doesn’t. “hi, mr. and mrs. lee harker,” amaya drawls out, her pink cheeks clearly indicating how tipsy she is. lee’s eyes flutter in exasperation as maria whacks amaya's arm. why couldn’t have two extremely awkward people have adopted her into their group? why did it have to be amaya and maria?

she glances at you warily, immediately taking note of how embarrassed you are, your laughter trembling more than usual and quiet in volume, eyes flicking along the room. protectiveness immediately kicks in, and she says, “we’re fine,” not wanting to bring more attention to their teasing.

your hand suddenly flinches in hers, and a surge of anxiety pulls through her gut. was that the wrong thing for her to say?

amaya seems to notice lee’s tension, for she pats your arm down, saying, “sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“no, no, don’t worry, I know,” you respond, nodding, though lee notices that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. her mind whirls with possibilities. are you upset that such a joke was made? do you feel uncomfortable? are you upset with her for not correcting them? did lee assume wrong in believing you were fully public about your sexuality? she feels her chest begin to get heavier. 

“here, come,” maria cuts in, waving you both over. “let’s play beer pong.”

as you two walk behind maria and amaya, lee’s breaths feeling shorter and more shallow, you turn to her suddenly. “hey, you okay? I can feel your pulse.”

she gulps down, self-consciousness pushing her to release your hand. it surprises her just how wrong it feels to do so, the feeling becoming more apparent when your eyebrows draw together. in her state of unrest, she can’t tell if it’s confusion, hurt or anger. jesus, this is exactly what she feared. that her feelings would make things unsettled between you two, and shatter the total comfort it had taken months to achieve in your friendship.

at your lack of response, you move closer, and she steps back. “I– lee, what’s wrong?”

your eyes, wide and focused on her, make her feel cowardice, and she looks away. she takes a few moments to collect herself. she doesn’t want to confide in you about a worry so small, so miniscule, and so meaningful in its relation to you. but, she knows if she chooses to start dismissing and hiding her feelings with you, it could very much just become the start to a chain of similar events. this instinct, this automatic kick to hide what she’s feeling – that’s what’s natural to her, that’s the reflex she’s leaned into all her life. returning to it could prove itself as all too easy of an occurrence, and who knows how long it would take to undo that? she doesn’t want that to happen. her nose makes a scratchy noise as she sharply breathes through it, and with that, she says, “I just– are you uncomfortable? because of what amaya said?”

she watches the way your throat moves as you swallow. after a moment, you shake your head softly. “no, of course not. I felt a bit… shy, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

she nods tightly, the relief overwhelming her in a long wave of lightness. 

“is that what you were nervous about?”

she stares at your docs, and silently tilts her head in the affirmative. 

“lee, even if I was uncomfortable, I’d never take that out on you, you know? you didn’t make the joke. but, besides that, I wasn’t uncomfortable or upset or anything, okay? just a bit… shy, is all.” it seems to take some effort on your end to say those last words, and she hopes it’s not because you’re downplaying the weight of your feelings. but, you said you weren’t uncomfortable or upset, and she doesn’t know how to proceed other than accepting your words. 

“okay?” 

she glances up at you, shifting under the heaviness of your attentive gaze. “I’m okay.” and it’s true. your assurance has helped ease her breath, and other than the discomfort she feels at the crowd of the room, her body is steady. 

“okay, now, let’s go play beer pong,” you drawl with a grin, tugging her by her arm. she wants to ask you to hold her hand again, but she resists, knowing it’s too forward.

though it takes a ridiculously long amount of time to convince the already drunk host to let lee play due to her abstinence from alcohol, despite her telling you, amaya and maria that she really doesn’t care, she finally is at the edge of the table, ball poised in her hand. she suddenly feels like she’s in high school again, the pressure of watchful eyes assessing her athletic ability making her tense. the fact that you’re there, on the other side of the table, cheeks lifted in bright grin, doesn’t help whatsoever. she supposes most people would feel supported, but your unwavering gaze only makes her feel even more unnerved. just like she did in high school, she focuses her attention to the task at hand, eyes skimming along the open gaps of the cups before lightly tossing the ball into one. when she gets it in, the host, derek, amaya said his name is, whistles. 

she ends up being the only one on her team to get every ball into the other team’s cup, which in all honesty, is probably because she’s sober. you miss two of your five shots, but even in those moments, lee twists her mouth to resist smiling, shy at the idea of being so plain in her affection for anyone to see. though, perhaps she speaks too soon, for as soon as she spots derek laying a friendly hand on your shoulder, she feels her jaw clench. she forces herself to look away. you’re not hers, you’re not someone who it makes sense to be possessive over. she has no right to. despite repeating this to herself, her stomach burns at the sight of derek continuing to keep a hand to your back as you guys play.

luckily, you slide from his touch when your eyes catch the sight of the girl lee met in your feminism class. you run over to her, swinging your arms around her. it should help, but it really does nothing to quell the simmering envy in lee’s stomach. she wishes she could touch you so easily, and vice versa. she knows it doesn’t make sense – you probably hesitate to touch her sometimes because you know her aversion to it, but she can’t help but irrationally wish you’d forgo all the consideration. see, this is why crushes are so anxiety-inducing to her – they make the sensibilities she always depends on wane for more personal pursuits and fulfillment.

she’s shaken out of her thoughts when your friend beckons everyone to the ground. “everyone, get into a circle! let’s do spin the bottle.” at her side, you’re grabbing her arm, fervently shaking your head, but she drags you to the ground next to her.

lee grits her teeth. great. 

“if it lands on you,” amaya whispers as the bottle swivels around, “just say you don’t want to kiss anyone. besides, I’ve played this game where people fucked if the bottle landed on them – this is nothing.”

“cold comfort,” lee whispers, pointedly staring at her.

she watches in a complete lack of amusement as the bottle lands from person to person, instigating a range of pecks to make out sessions. not that she knows from watching, she can just tell based on the time it takes and the noises. she simply stares at her lap when a kiss occurs, too uncomfortable to invade on such an intimate moment. not that there’s much to invade on, considering how many of them were encircled on the carpet of derek’s shared house. at least fifteen, while the rest of the guests mingle on every floor, playing games or taking shots together.

everytime the bottle blends into a blur from how fast it turns around, lee freezes. she’s afraid of it landing on her, but terrified it’ll land on you. if it does, she isn’t sure how well she’ll be able to control her body’s show of discomfort. she might just have to excuse herself to the bathroom. yes, that’s what she’ll do. 

when amaya and some other girl kiss, lee nearly leaves prematurely when one of derek’s friends wolf-whistle. she chooses a spot on the carpet to hone her gaze in on, and tries to reign in her annoyance. idiots. from her experience, the men who are most eager to watch any form of intimacy between women are the same ones who find it unbelievable that a woman’s attraction may not include them. they existed in high school, and they still do in university, it seems. she looks up at you, wondering if you’re thinking the same, blinking in surprise when you’re already watching her. when the two of you lock eyes, you playfully roll yours, and her lips fold into a forced smile. even in this moment, her stomach can’t handle looking at you, knowing what might come. she wishes she had just stayed at home tonight.

of course, the bottle eventually lands on you. she tears her eyes from you, choosing to focus on the feel of amaya’s hand softly rubbing her back, mentally choosing which words she’ll use to excuse herself. she leans into amaya’s ear, whispering, “I’m going.”

“um, I don’t think you can.”

lee glances at her in confusion, then moves her eyes to the bottle, nearly closing them in equal parts relief and aggravation when she realizes where it’s pointed, her stomach dropping so hard she feels light-headed for a second. jesus christ. 

derek chortles, clapping his friend’s back. “is there a lesbian goddess looking down on us or something?”

“yeah, it’s telling you to go fuck yourself,” maria sharply says, glaring at him. “stop with the fetishizing.”

derek raises his hands. “it was a joke, relax. jesus. can’t say anything these days.”

“lee?” amaya tentatively asks, her hand on lee’s back stilling.

lee glances to her friend’s thigh, shoulders heaving as she takes in a deep breath. she knows she needs to look at you, to see what you’re thinking, what you want – even if she already knows what her decision will be. her gaze slowly roves past your form before carefully landing on your face. your eyes are wide, lips parted and quivering, staring at her in clear nervousness. and what might be expectancy.

she swallows hard, piercing, relentless anxiety plummeting down to her abdomen. she doesn’t know what you want from her, and even if she did, she doesn’t know what your reasons are. but, it doesn’t really matter, because she knows she’s not comfortable with this. part of her is tensing with the curiosity and desire to kiss you. to let the intimacy that’s taken months to grow between you two progress even more, to feel the softness of your mouth. but, she can’t. not when it might mean nothing to you. not in front of all these people. 

and so, she shakes her head. “no.” 

“awe, c’mon, don’t be like that–” derek’s friend coos. 

“I said no,” she firmly repeats, staring at her hands. she can’t bear to look at you. what if you see it on her face? what will she see on yours?

“why not?” the question comes from the friend she met in your feminism class.

irritation springs in her. why can’t anyone just respect her answer? “because I don’t want to.”

she realizes how it comes off moments after saying it, especially when silence rings in the group. she can’t bear to look at you, fear gripping tightly at her. what if she’s hurt you? the pressing need to know overpowers the sense of alarm she feels. she looks up, nearly flinching back when she sees your mouth curved tightly, eyes cast down, hands wringing together. when you meet her gaze, your eyes are bouncing around, not remaining on her for more than a second at a time. you can’t even meet her eyes. she doesn’t know if this is due to embarrassment, shame or pity. she’s not sure she wants to know.

she lasts two more rounds, before excusing herself quietly and leaving.

on the porch, she lights a cigarette, wanting nothing more than to escape this party and lock herself in the refuge of her bedroom. how did things go downhill so fast? she wants to go back in, and tell you how she doesn’t dislike the idea of kissing you, not at all, and that she’d kiss away every frown that makes it onto your face if she only had the courage to take a risk. but, there’s too many people inside, too many eyes that’d be trained onto her as she approaches you. and who is she kidding? even in privacy, she could never say those words.

five minutes later, she guesses, she hears the screen door open, and she knows from the silhouette it’s you. her head tilts in your direction, taking a slow drag. “game finished?”

“no. I just needed a break. and I…” she hears your pause, the sentence hanging in the air, “... wanted to check if you were okay. those guys were being dicks.”

she screws her eyes shut. you’re still so nice to her, even after she said something that might have embarrassed you, and that definitely caused awkwardness. she wonders if there’ll ever be an end to the gentleness you distribute to her. “they were.” saying it out loud, remembering their obnoxiousness, sparks another dose of anger in her. so entitled they were, to seeing whatever forms of affection they felt content to turn into their own plaything. the kind of guys who are content with only accepting lesbianism in dosages that are self-satisfying to them. anything that doesn’t have to do with the permanent removal of them. anything that they feel can be put away in a neat box after their temporary engagement with it. almost as though it’s so incomprehensible for attraction to exist separate from men that they always need to be involved in some way, even as a voyeur.

“lee?” 

she snaps out of her impassioned, internal tangent, eyes flicking to you. the moonlight coats your face in blue light, and she’s suddenly struck with the thought of: I should have kissed you. but, as soon as it runs its course, she looks away, knowing she’d never have had the nerve, or sense of ease, to have done such a thing. 

“are you upset?” she mutters.

“no.” you pause. “why would I be?”

you both know why. she wishes you could just bring it up directly instead of tossing around vague questions. now, it’s on her to bring it up and address what’s going on. but, then again, how many times have you done that for her? is it really so unfair that she should now? her eyes trace the nearly-bare trees, lined with the sprouts of small, green leaves, which shine as emerald in the darkness. “because I didn’t do what the game asked of me.”

“well, I–I was upset, at first.” 

she flinches. she always knew it would, but it feels terribly hollow to know you are, or were, upset with her.

“but,” you continue, voice riding on the smooth whistle of the wind, “I know that’s not fair. you’re more than allowed to not want to kiss me – or, or anyone.”

she nods. she knows this already. “then, why were you upset?” she supposes it’s because of how embarrassing it might’ve been to not be kissed in front of others, to have it publicly declared that someone doesn’t want to kiss you. she nearly winces at the memory of her words, wishing she had chosen more carefully.

“um, because…” she hears your fingers rasp on the railing she’s leaning on. “I felt kind of, like, insecure? I don’t know. I mean, did you not want to because, like, there’s something wrong with me?”

her head darts up, shoulders stiff and nearly strained in tension. a small groan rumbles in her throat. “no. not at all.” god, something being wrong with you is the absolute last thing on her mind. and it’s one of the least likely reasons she’d ever refrain from kissing you. she’s sure there are some things flawed about you, there are with everyone. but, that’s no reason she’d ever decide to avoid or postpone anything with you. she’s ready to accept you. “that’s not the reason,” she whispers.

she can hear your breaths becoming shaky, unsteady. “then, why?”

she squeezes her eyes shut, debating on what to say. she doesn’t want to lie, but the fear of how you’ll perceive her honest answer gnaws at her. 

finally, she shakes her head. she wants, so badly, to reassure you in this moment and make it clear just how, well, not wrong of a person you are. even if it means you catch wind of her feelings, she can deal with that later. if amaya was here, she’d tell lee to do the romantic thing, to say something wholly honest. to admit, something, anything, that sheds a bit more light onto her feelings. lee doesn’t think she’s quite ready for that, but she’ll tiptoe on the precipice of it if it means making you feel better.

“I didn’t want to kiss you in front of all those people. because…” she pauses, thinking on how to ensure you it has nothing to do with you as a person. she straightens up, turning to your wide, curious eyes. “because if I kiss you, I don’t want it to be in front of an audience.” even the mere words I kiss you have her mouth tasting different. it feels like a reverent trifecta of words, like some sort of prayer. 

she gulps down, needles of worry poking her insides at your silence. she shifts her body away, and watches the grass on the lawn, wet with the afternoon’s rain, the deep breaths of cigarette smoke soothing her slightly. and she waits.

–

and you still your breathing in shock. if she fucking kisses you? if? as in that’s a possibility? the idea that that’s what she means feels too far-fetched and too good to be true. if this was someone else, you could convince yourself that those words just slipped it out without them thinking or realizing. but, lee always proceeds with caution. she pauses before talking, she speaks calmly. if she says something, she means it. so, if she means this, then what does that indicate? that kissing you is a possibility? it’s something she has thought of before? or does she just mean that in some completely hypothetical, alternate universe where she’s aligned to very specific feelings, then she wouldn’t kiss you in front of others?

you watch her as she continues to lean along the railing, elbows propped onto it and eyes observing her surroundings, grey smoke whirling around her as she exhales the smoke. she looks beautiful, and you want her so bad. you want to ask more, but you’re scared. scared her answer will prove of her indifference to you, and you’ll be forced to figure out how to abandon these long active, aflame feelings. if anything, you’d prefer to swim in these feelings then submerge only when forced to, like if you’ve done nothing to pursue her by the time the lease is up, and then, you both part ways, and you’re forced to endure the heartache. the idea is a sour one that causes a swell of pain in you, like some internal bruise. but, what could you do other than that? confess to her like some nervous high schooler? try to subtly pursue her with flirtation and gestures? even if you did that last option, you doubt it’d give you answers. you can’t see lee confidently flirting back in such instances, and she might not even register your words as flirting. and confessing… it can so easily cause damage to what you guys have and your own heart.

for so long, you’ve been content to carry these feelings for her, but not act on them. but, a culmination of things – the semester approaching its end in just a matter of three months, the jaunting reality check of realizing the chances of her dating and being with someone else, and her saying this kind of stuff – is starting to make you itch for more than a friendship. the idea of not even trying to seize a chance with her makes you sick. but, the idea of doing so and getting your heart shattered makes you just as disoriented in fear.

it’s why you still can’t say anything now. even though you want nothing more than to shake her body and ask her if she wants to kiss you, if she wants you even half as badly as you’ve wanted her, because even half that amount would leave you feeling so fulfilled. because that’s how much you crave her.

“thanks,” you whisper, not wanting to completely ignore her efforts to reassure her.

she nods.

“do you want to get out of here?”

“I do.” she taps the cigarette against the railing. “but, if you want to stay longer, I’ll wait.”

your stomach swells with a bleeding sort of affection that drowns out any other emotion. when she’s this kind, how can she not expect you to like her? 

“we can go.” in all honesty, your mood for a party has been doused by the liquid heat of her words and your subsequent pining. you want nothing more than to digest what she said in pure silence, lest for the music in your walkman. 

she pauses, head cocking to you. you think she’s about to say something, but she just quietly raises the cigarette to you. you carefully take it from her, gulping when your fingers brush her cold skin. “wait here,” she softly says, then heads in, probably to tell everyone of your guys’ departure. 

behind you, you can hear the Debarge song your cousin used to be obsessed with playing. you still remember some of the lyrics – I like the way you comb your hair, I like the stylish clothes you wear, it’s just the little things you do that show how much you really care. you think of lee, suddenly feeling that you, too, would like to write a song listing the things you like about her. there’s so much. she also makes you feel so unnerved just by a look, and has made your ability to feel passion for another person, an ability which had been in slumber for so long, awaken with a great start. you're still afraid of what might happen, of the future, of potential heartbreak, but liking lee, and wanting her, is something you're powerless against.

a few days pass, and things feel quieter than usual. you can tell lee feels some amount of hesitation around you, from the way her shoulders tense when you enter the room, to the way she takes longer than usual to respond. you don’t know if it’s out of guilt, or fear that you’re upset, or something else, but you hate the stilted tension you both have become ensnared by. so, one morning, after taking some deep, calming breaths, you approach her with a peace offering. 

“hey.” you wait for no answer, immediately continuing. “so, if we take the subway up north, we can see those cherry blossoms that everyone’s been talking about. do you want to go today?”

her lips part with a quiet, wet sound, and you try very hard to ignore it. after her eyes dart between you and the papers in front of her, she nods. “okay.” 

an hour later, as you two walk up the path leading to the park’s cherry blossoms attraction, surrounded by lime green buds sprinkling the branches and hugging every crevice and curve, you ask, “were there cherry blossoms where you grew up?” 

lee looks at you sharply, as though surprised that you spoke. you nearly smile – did she expect you to carry on in complete silence? of course you wouldn’t. you want things to go back to usual. 

“yeah, we did.” she stares ahead.

okay, complete silence it is, then.

that is, until lee sighs, then continues with, “my house is surrounded by trees. it looked nice this time of year. my mom, um…” her mouth flinches. “my mom once knitted me a blanket of the blossoms.”

something in you throbs in adoration at the idea of a young lee cuddled in such a tenderly made gift. “that’s so sweet. so, she knits?”

“knits, crochets – she made us a lot of stuff growing up.” you see the bob of her throat as she swallows. “she was a nurse, so it was her way of relaxing. plus, easier to afford than buying those things.”

you absorb this information. with how independent lee is, it makes sense that her single mother worked so hard, and that lee was probably left to fend for herself a lot of the time. you wonder if lee took inspiration from her mother growing up, and used her as a guidepost in forming her own steady, assured habits. and in light of this information, you suppose lee’s lack of spending might’ve also taken root in how she seems to have grown up financially. 

your fingers reach into your pocket, skimming along the camera she had bought you.

“it’s also just more personal,” you add. “you know, a homemade thing like that is always going to beat store-bought.”

“why do you think so?”

you shrug. “because, you know, it’s something physical that a person poured hours into creating, just to make you happy. and there’s something sweet about it, isn’t it? having a physical, like, product of someone’s affection, being able to hold it and know they did too.”

her lips fold in tightly together, and she blinks hard at the path ahead. “yeah. but, she doesn’t do it anymore.”

you frown. “no?” 

she shakes her, the corner of her lip pulsing. “no. she doesn’t have it in her to do it.”

“what do you mean?”

“my mom…” a loud exhaling puff of air slips from her nose. “she’s not well.”

you feel the downwards pinch of your lips deepen. does she mean it physically, mentally or emotionally? either way, you wonder if it has something to do with why she dreads going there so much. as the only daughter, is she over-relied on? “what do you mean?”

“she sometimes becomes… well, disconnected. to me, her surroundings, even the stuff she says. at least, it feels like she’s disconnected. and she’s, um, really scared for me – because I live away. and I think she’s scared for herself too.”

“because she’s alone?”

her eyes flutter shut momentarily. “yeah.” her voice is raspy, heavy with responsibility.

sadness surges through you. she looks so pained in confessing all this, so wounded over being away from home, away from a mother who clearly is struggling. but, from what lee has said, it feels like she was struggling in her own ways too. “that’s not your fault,” you try to gently remind her.

“it is, in a way,” she mutters. “I could’ve stayed closer to my house. but, I wanted to leave.”

“why? why did you want to leave?”

“because I was tired of it all.” her voice is hushed, breathy with the shame of the admission. anyone could tell how bad she feels to admit this. “tired of her holding on so tight. of feeling guilty for always leaving – guilty for more than that, really. I was tired of her paranoia… regarding the world and sinning, and–” she cuts herself off, lips claiming together, turning away from you as though she’s aghast at having admitted so much.

but, it doesn’t feel like so much to you. her vague descriptions of her situation only further your confusion and curiosity. “why is she so paranoid?”

“she’s gone through a lot – when raising me on her own. and that just made her scared of everything outside our home. and even before those things happened that caused that fear…” she bites her lip. “she was cut off from her family before having me, and criticized a lot. I guess she was made to feel like a sinner, and she was scared of me becoming the same. or, I don’t know, just feeling the same. but, it was too much, her reminders and pressure. even when she was barely saying anything, I was scared. I couldn’t take it.” her words begin to waver at the end, and a piece of sympathy stabs you in the chest. you can see the great effort it’s taking her to confide in you about this. sure, it was clear since that first visit back home in october that whatever her and her mom had, it was complicated. and the more her facial expressions became decipherable to you, and the more she spoke to you about her mother, the clearer it became just how much the visits strained her, and the total, utter weight they placed upon her shoulders. but, it also became revealed just how much of a necessity they were for her, and despite all the discomfort, the intense amount of care and loyalty wrapped in those hours and days for her. but, this is the first time she’s given such a specific account of what her and her mom struggle with. just hearing all the layers to it is enough to make you falter in your steps, and you marvel at how much she must have gone through to lead up to her departure for university. most of all, you feel a pain for lee – she deserves to have a bond with her mother that is steady and comfortable, and to hear just how disarrayed it is in reality makes a longing stir within you. a longing that is purely for her sake, solely to secure her some more peace after all she’s clearly undergone in life and continues to carry with her.

“I’m sorry. that she was cut off, and that it led to, you know, you receiving so much pressure from both her and yourself. and for all the other stuff, like the paranoia and you feeling like you couldn’t leave her.” your apology feels so weak. all you can do is really just comfort her with your words and provide her some empathy. but, it changes nothing. she has still suffered through her life, and your words won’t erase the aftereffects it has on her. the lack of action you can really commit to makes you feel pathetic. but, you suppose that’s part of being her friend, someone who care so much for her. being there, even if you can only do a bit to help. because giving her any help takes precedence over any self-satisfaction you can wring out from accomplishing something bigger in assisting her. “you didn’t deserve to go through that. I wish you had had things easier, really. I can’t even imagine how hard it was – how hard it must still be.”

“thanks,” she mumbles, hands stuffed into her pocket. her eyes skim along the ground before latching onto your face, and she tilts her head in acknowledgement.

your hand itches. how badly you wish you could hold her and tell her everything will be okay.

when you two arrive at the cherry blossom trees, you’re immediately swept into immense awe, the feeling making you afloat in delight and admiration. the small flowers are an array of white and cream, small peaks of pink scattered about through the army of them. students surround you and lee, many of them sitting on the ground and playing card games together, eating food or drinking from a shared bottle. other people walk about, taking strolls or walking their dogs. the thing interlocking all of you together is the collective spark of joy and curiosity from the cherry blossoms, children being lifted by their parents to tug some from the branches, while other people reverently touch the petals.

you try to take a peak at lee, eager to see what her response to the scenery is, a satisfied thrum running through you when you catch a glimpse of her small smile, eyes scanning the park in her careful, unfaltering way. 

“see? aren’t you glad we came?” 

she huffs with a noiseless laugh. “you’ll really use even a natural phenomenon as a chance to brag?”

you feel your shoulders loosen at her response. thank god. things finally seem to be easing up. “well, if I won’t, who will? you certainly don’t give me compliments,” you mockingly say with an exaggerated frown. 

“mm,” she hums, pretty brown eyes drawn up as they skitter over the branches. “it just takes a lot of effort to come up with them.”

you burst into a loud, offended round of laughter. “is that statement meant to indicate social awkwardness or a lack of good traits in me?”

she shrugs, her smile widening. “I’ll let you guess.”

“if I do so correctly, will you tell me?”

“I shouldn’t spoil the fun.”

you snort at just how fucking deadpan she sounds saying that. “fun? I’m sorry, but who is it that leaves every party early again?” you taunt teasingly, bumping her shoulder. secretly, you harbour the wish that mentioning the party in a moment of banter will ease whatever tension and awkwardness has been caused by it, and any hesitation you felt at your choice fades away delightfully fast when she only rolls her eyes, responding with, “who is it that returned with me last time?”

“listen, in my defense,” you drawl, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “derek and his friends would’ve spoiled the rest of the night.”

“yeah. they would’ve.”

you falter at the quieting of her tone. “you didn’t like them either?” you already know the answer, of course.

“no, I didn’t.”

you smile at her bluntness, then wave a hand to a spot under a particularly large tree with winding, crooked branches that provide some shelter from the surprisingly bright afternoon. “here?” 

she nods, but continues to stand with her hands in her pocket. when you cock your head in confusion, her eyes awkwardly skip between you and the ground. oh. oh. she’s waiting for you to sit first. your mouth quivers with the temptation of a grin, stomach a whirlwind of butterflies. yeah, you certainly did good picking this one. 

when you sit cross-legged on the ground, lee shuffles to a spot a safe distance from you, stretching her legs out, and you nearly groan. you’ve been close to her numerous times by now, sure, but in her presence, you feel practically touch-starved, never being able to relish in enough of the pleasant tingle of her arm brushing yours. if you were together, maybe lee would brace her back against the tree, and you could lie between her legs. or lay your head on her lap. you feel a pleasure at thinking of these spots on her body you’ve never had the pleasure of touching before, seized by a desperation to know what they feel like. her thigh against your cheek, shoulder against your ear, wrist against your lips. 

she pulls a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, nimble fingers easily tugging one out. she carefully scans the grounds before taking out a plain silver lighter and lighting it. you could practically bury your face into the muddy grass. how does she look so good doing everything? how does lighting a cigarette, when it's in her hands and between her muted pink lips, turn into the most angelic of actions?

when her eyes sharply capture your gaze, you nearly flinch, immediately forcing yourself to linger on the small family walking by on a nearby path. 

“what is it?”

you ignore her intense eyes. god, why did her sparing doses of eye contact serve to do nothing but unnerve you? “nothing…” you fumble for something, anything, really, to say that can take the focus off you. “just thinking about what a great anti-cancer campaign you’re making for the children here.”

she laughs lightly. “yeah, well, I try.”

you raise an eyebrow at the cigarette. “very hard, apparently.”

her beam softens into a gentle tilt of her lips. “I’m glad it’s paid off for some recognition.”

“at this point, just admit you’re an attention whore, lee,” you tease. lee’s the farthest thing, you know that. she’d probably be content to slink into the background for the rest of her life.

you pull out the camera she got you, pointing it at the trees, the sunlight bursting through the edges of the leaves in a way that sends them into lime jewels, glittering under the sun’s heat. a thrill runs through you. spring really is here, warmer days to come.

when you direct the camera to lee, she glances at you from the corner of her eye, but says nothing, continuing to smoke. your hands feel like they could tremble in this moment. it’s your first time photographing her, and if you get the film developed, it’ll be your very first photograph of her. the knowledge of it all – capturing her in permanence, keeping her secure in this physical memento that’ll always exist somewhere, no matter what happens – makes the moment feel heavy on your heart. even just making it clear to her that you want her locked – no, that’s not right – kept alive in this way, is a vulnerable admission in and of itself, even if it’s declared silently through the simple raise of your camera. you can’t help but feel relieved she says nothing.

you snap the photo, her pose relaxed, torso leaning back on her palms, which are planted to the ground. behind her is a flood of white and pink flowers dotting the world, the grass alit with the flaming light of the sun.

you set the camera in your lap, thumb stroking the shining black surface. how powerful this little box is, to be able to retain and express a single moment forever. you know it’s a blessing to have such power available through the technology of these days, but how apparent does it make the sentiment that a moment only lasts for as long as a singular shutter. the way the petals litter the ground, how the kids’ laughter sways along with the wind, lee’s closed eyes as a particularly fresh breeze kisses that spot between her brow – you’ll only have these moments before your eyes for a few minutes or even a few seconds. and then, they’ll be gone. it leaves you with a bittersweet ache – how the witnessing of something can mean so much, and instigate such a flood or silence of emotions, and then, in a matter or minutes to hours, be gone and faded into a memory tucked away. sometimes, even though it’s silly to admit, you sometimes feel like you’re running out of moments to actually live on, scrambling to fill your time with things that can make for good memories rather than just trusting your life to naturally supply them to you.

you suppose part of that is due to the pressure of being in your youth. so many people frame university as the peak of their life, an amazing couple of years that simmer into oblivion the older a person gets, which apparently ends up being for the best, since they claim life never ends up quite matching up, anyways. you’ve heard this rhetoric so many times that you feel like there is a ticking clock constantly pricking at the back of your mind, reminding you pointedly of just how much time you have left before graduation. you feel like you need to keep doing more than before, and truly seize this apparently opportune, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

but, you don’t like the thought that things end here. that after university, or one’s twenties, life is just a downhill slope that you have no choice but to roll down the steep shape of until finally dropping into an abyss. you’d much rather life have the directionless shape it’s possessed so far, when happiness and good phases strike you with resounded and delighted force, and when hard times cause you to plummet when you least expect it – all without warning. your so-called “youth” surely hasn’t been all that ideal, and it hasn’t aligned to any exclusive feeling or experience. so, why should you subject the rest of your life to such a bleak, single-dimensioned expectation? sure, with each new year, each new stage of one’s life, more complications, complexes and dilemmas arise. that just seems part of the territory of having more time on earth, and so, more experiences to amplify the nuances and contrasts of life and struggle. but, surely, that cannot mean life simply ends when the number “two” leaves your age. because you’d like to think that in your thirties, and forties, and however many decades, even if life becomes more of a confusing jumble to map out, the lingering time on earth has only provided you even more experiences to dance and experience contentment in. you hope life is like that, for the idea of things becoming a slow, dull tug downwards as soon as you enter the real world is one that is too heartbreaking to face.

“what are you thinking about?”

you pick at a blade of grass. “wouldn’t you like to know?” you don’t even know what compels you to say such a thing. if it’s because you simply want to tease her, or if it’s a desperate attempt to seek out confirmation for her care for your thoughts.

“I would.”

you feel your face warm at the earnest declaration. “I was just thinking about – I don’t know, do you ever feel pressured to, you know, live it up at our age? have all these experiences because people say this should be the best time of our life?”

“no.” she takes a slow drag, pondering on your words before continuing. “I know what I do and don’t like, and I… don’t have the energy to pretend otherwise.” she shrugs lightly. “I just like doing what I know I like.”

“that must be nice.” that sense of security in herself, in the passage of time.

“you feel differently, though?”

“I don’t know.” you feel embarrassed now to confide in her about such a thing, knowing that she cannot relate. “there’s all this pressure about living out your twenties, and life ending once you depart from that age, so I get scared I’m not doing enough.”

“yeah.” she nods. “but, it’s not really true, is it? your life won’t end in your twenties. I think the people who say that are probably just… I don’t know – going through, like, recollection, nostalgia or some kind of monotony.” 

“that’s what scares me, though. that that sentiment of, like, missing your youth, is so common that it might indicate that those feelings – that emptiness – are inevitable.”

“and maybe they are. but, that doesn’t mean you have to deal with it if you don’t want to. if you ever feel that way, change it.” her eyes raise to you, honest and bright under the sun, shining to a light brown. “and don’t spend time on anticipating those feelings. that’s counterproductive.”

you huff out a small laughter. you don’t know if it’s her logic-driven thought process, or discardment of common social dilemmas, but her blunt words are so structured that you cannot help but chuckle in a mixture of amusement and endearment.

“if I do ever get in that slump, promise to help?” you ask, raising your hand to hers.

she blinks at your hand before enveloping it in hers. she’s dry and cool in your grip, and you wonder how cold her skin would feel under your lips. “promise.” 

–

lee feels pride simmering in her at the sight of you using your camera, but she hides her smile behind the cigarette, wanting to keep her happiness at watching you to herself, like a private secret.

when you aren’t looking at her, she watches you, eyes taking in how you bend in all different kinds of angles to get particular shots. at one point, your shirt runs up your back and she very intentionally rips her eyes from the patch of skin and faint hairs she saw. she’s more than thankful that you’re occupying yourself when her mind begins to race with images of sliding her palm along that spot and feeling its warmth.

after you lean in close to photograph her hand with the cigarette, so close she can smell your shampoo, she finds herself compelled to ask, “did you used to photograph?”  she can’t tell if your eagerness is due to a dormant passion getting awoken, or if this is your first time engaging with it.

you nod, smiling down at the camera. “yeah. I used to have a lot more hobbies as a kid. you know, photography, reading, drawing, writing. I was always interested in those things.”

from your class choices, to the kind of work you do in your organization, lee could always tell that you leaned towards creative work. but, rather than feel any sense of curiosity satiated at your answer, she feels it only fold in on itself and heighten. “what kind of things did you write?”

“I went through so many phases, I can’t even pinpoint one.” still, you bring your knees up, thoughtfully wrapping your arms around them. “for a while, I was really into fantasy. I loved writing stories on, you know, magical swords and daggers, characters who fit into all the archetypes. and imagining myself in those stories, too. when I hit puberty and started having back to back crushes, it was romance.” lee picks at her sleeve when you say this. so, romance had been something on your mind for a while. she wonders if any experience you could ever have with her – romantic, that is – would automatically be a disappointment. 

“I also had a sci-fi phase,” you add as an afterthought. “I loved, and well, still do, imagining myself in different stories.”

she hums. you seem to have a world of tales available to you, lost in your mind. she wonders what’s that like, to have so many universes and worlds to transport yourself to. she wants to learn about them all. she wants to know what exists in the ideal worlds you’ve spent your life travelling to. “what, um… drew you to those kinds of stories?”

“I guess it all depended on what I craved at the time. or what the media I was surrounded myself with caused me to crave? sometimes, I’d get through a fantasy series in a week, and real life would feel so boring in comparison. and so, I’d write stories, and through that, could at least temporarily live in that world, you know?”

she nods. she really does know. as a child, she had partaken in such little fantasies, imagining herself to be in the films she often watched alone when her mother worked long hours at the hospital. it gave her a sort of solace from what often felt like a lonely existence. 

“that sounds nice,” she admits. “that your thoughts felt believable enough that you could transfer to another place.”

“did you not have that?”

“not really. if I did, I don’t know, daydream, it’s not something that would last long. even with wanting to act – I thought it was a logical way to escape real life. I don’t think my thoughts were enough to convince me.”

“I get that. in a way, it might be a blessing.” when she raises her head to you, you smile. “sometimes, the daydreams being so convincing made it all the more heartbreaking when I came back to reality. I got to experience this beautiful fantasy, and then, it just shattered.”

 when lee had realized things would probably not work out for her as an actress, she supposes she had also felt shattered in a way. her escape plan had been broken. to you, the escape plan must have been your fantastical refuge. she can understand why it would have caused pain. “yeah. I mean, like you said, maybe it was a good thing? did it help you… like your life more?”

you chuckle. “not really, considering I always escaped back to it. now, though?” you glance at her and when she tilts her head, you continue. “now, I’m better with it. I also just don’t really do much creative stuff anymore. it never feels like I have the time.”

“maybe you should make a schedule.”

you giggle. “thank you, lee.”

she blinks. she doesn’t really know what’s so amusing, but you’re laughing, and she’s content with that.

–

“who would’ve thought there’d ever be a day where lee harker is the one who extended an invitation to a public place?” 

lee huffs slightly, backing away as you make your way through the bathroom, shoes softly tapping along the cream tiles. “yes. to the bar, not the bathroom.”

“they said you were in here!” you weakly justify, knowing the only real reason for being here is having wanted a moment alone with her before heading back out. 

not that it’s so unbearable outside. after all, it is a bar that lee willingly agreed to attend, so you knew from the get-go that it’d probably be quite soothing in comparison to some of the other places in this area. the part of the bar with the tables is alit with colours of pink and red, a soft flush to every object in the room, almost as though every inch is tinged with love. the streams of colour swarm even into the bathroom, casting everything into a hot, ethereal glow that seems to make your surroundings hazy. like a faraway dream.  

you and lee had spent the afternoon pouring over your work together, and due to her lighter load, lee left earlier to meet her friends, since maria had wanted to see the local band performing. she had initially bid you a goodbye, then promptly left, but not even ten minutes later, she returned back to you and fumbled out her notebook and black marker, quickly scribbling the name of the place down and handing it to you.

and now, here you are. when you found amaya and maria, amaya gestured for you to ignore maria, who was watching the performance in a trance, saying into your ear, “lee’s in the bathroom. the one downstairs, the guy here said it’s barely used.”

the music is muffled in the confines of the bathroom, and it feels like a private utopia. the warm light wraps around lee’s skin, and she looks iridescent, something spun out of flame and ash, eyes impossibly darker in the dim light.

“hm, avoid making that joke with them.” her lips quirk up. “I think two parties in a row have already started convincing them that I’m okay with more.”

“two in a row?” you scoff. “lee, the one you went to before the last was in fucking autumn. october, to be exact. that’s, like, a seven month gap.”

“well, my gaps in this circumstance tend to align more to seven years.”

you snicker. “fine. fair enough.” her words give you pause and you roll them over in your head, like a dice, trying to determine any possibility, before asking, “why did you come last time, then?”

she leans on the edge of the counter, and two sinks down from her, you perch up on the ledge. “I, um… well, I didn’t want you going by yourself.”

perhaps you’ve gotten too accustomed to her friendship. back in fall, a confession like that probably would’ve had you jumping in ecstasy. now, it just brings in a wave of embarrassment with a pinch of annoyance. so, she only came because she felt you’d be a loner there or something? self-consciousness and desire for more from her make an ugly pair, and you feel the bitterness of their combined powers.

“I wouldn’t have been alone,” you mutter, looking down. “my friend was going to be there.”

“I hadn’t realized.”

“so, if you had, you wouldn’t have come?” you can hear the petulant, undignified lilt to your voice. you know you sound irrational right now. it is damned sweet that lee came to make sure you weren’t by yourself. but, you pine for something more, and you know it’s selfish, but it’s been months, and you’re wanting.

“um, I don’t know.”

you sigh sharply, turning your head from her even further.

“what’s wrong?”

her voice quietly echoes in the bathroom, and you hear the soft trepidation lining her words. you hate that you’re the one to have caused such uncertainty. again. you debate perhaps lying, but the idea of that makes you wince. even if the ordeal of exposing the truth is a tad humiliating, the idea of starting to lie to lee is worse. you two have finally built to a friendship that is easy and vulnerable – how could you ruin that? and you can’t bear being dishonest with her. besides, she’s said something before that was… questionable, what with the night of the party. perhaps, you also have a one-use pass to say something questionable.

“I kind of wanted to hear you went just to… I don’t know, because you wanted to hang out with me.”

“I went for that too.” the admission is immediate and gentle, and you start at the lack of hesitation in it. perhaps you seeming off is compelling her to do it to assure you.

her response should sate your desires, and in some ways, it does. but, the mention of the party, the reminder of what she said about if she kisses you, only instigates a newfound desperation for answers. what did she mean when she said that? before, you were so concerned with having your friend back that you didn’t care to try to investigate, and fear of what could happen if you did only held you back more. but, what if this was your only chance? what if lee never says anything like that again?

trying to subtly pry, you ask, “did you, um… regret going?”

you watch her eyes flick up, glancing at the stalls across from you before going back down. “why would I?”

“you know…” you gulp down hard. just out with it. do it. “spin the bottle. the guys being jackasses,” you add, trying not to shine the spotlight entirely onto the potential kiss.

she shrugs, tilting her head in your direction. “I did regret it for a bit. I felt – I don’t know.” she shakes her head, and you hear the sharp breath of her singular inhale. “I felt worried I had embarrassed you.”

your mouth curves. god, she’s so sweet and darling. how no one has currently captured her heart, you don’t know. “I was a bit embarrassed. but, it’s not at all your fault. you had – have – every right to say no. I just, I thought it had to do with me.” you rub your palm on your neck, feeling your face burn at the admission. fuck, it could be so goddamn anxiety-inducing to practically lay out on an emotional autopsy table, insides spilled out for her to scan.

“it didn’t,” she says in a hushed tone. you can barely even look at her. “if anything, I would’ve…” a soft tapping noise emerges in the bathroom, and you know it’s her nervous fidgeting against the cold counter. “... preferred you over anyone else.”

you freeze at the words, feeling your nails dig into your palms. god, does she even realize how big a deal some of the stuff she says is? she tosses it around as though it’s nothing, even though you know she gives careful consideration to every sentiment spoken. what does she even mean by that? your body is still feeling weightless from the bolt of pure shock, as though you’re far away from this moment. there were awfully attractive people in that circle, people you had felt great anger at the thought of lee kissing. and she had secretly preferred you above anyone else, even her close companions? but, you suppose it wasn’t truly such a secret, since she just told you. and maybe that’s because there’s nothing to truly hide – maybe her desire for your lips in that moment had hinged on nothing but comfortability, friendship, and maybe shared sexual preference.

there’s only one way to find out. “why? because we – we have, I don’t know – we’re both gay? or because we’re friends?”

“mm,” she hums, nodding.

disappointment strikes at you like a harsh, ringing bell, the waves of the impact sending rolls of hurt through you, your stomach aching at the sudden emotion. “that’s it?”

from your peripheral vision, you see her shift. “‘that’s it’? did you… want there to be something else?”

fuck. she’s catching onto you. “I… I, well, no, I just wondered if there was.”

“why are you wondering?”

your stomach flips, her very direct questions shattering any semblance of control you thought you had on the situation. it leaves you horribly unsettled, and you readjust yourself on the seat, trying to ease the weight of your words with some distracting movement. “I just, I don’t know, I would just like to know.”

“but, why? any other reason could make things… different.”

your head whips to her, holding your breath without realizing. surely, she must be talking about romantic feelings. no other admission having to do with the almost-kiss could cause discomfort. only something having to do with having wanted the kiss could cause things to change. nothing else. right? you’re sure of it. but, again, she’s speaking in a hypotheticals – she’s not confirming she has these reasons herself. perhaps she’s just truly curious about why you’d want to know. it feels too good to be true, to think she really could want this kiss.

but, the part of you that itches, and longs, and feels like raw flesh under her gaze, wants to hope. and if you hope that she has those reasons, then you hope some kind of assurance will help. “different isn’t bad. and you know, if something one of us said ever did cause, I don’t know, change, then I think we could get through it.” hypocritical words, considering you had been hiding your feelings for months out of fear of the heartbreak and change that could be aroused from a confession. but, it’s true – at least, it feels true when you think of lee confessing. because you’d ensure that anything she does, or says, would never cause a strain on your end. when you think of her being the one to initiate something, a sort of protectiveness takes over. you’d never let her words lead to a severement of the friendship, not if you can help it.

she’s silent.

your fingers cling onto the edge of the counter, the nausea of anxiety swimming in your throat. “please, lee, is there anything else?”

her eyes meet yours, and they’re practically shining in the shadows of red. “there is.”

your fingers ache. “tell me.”

“I wanted to kiss you. I want to, still.”

your eyes burn, and you grind your teeth together, trying to will away the sudden urge to burst into tears. you didn’t realize just how badly you had wanted her, and itched for her to touch you, until now. just the confession from her is enough to make you want to crawl to this dirty, tiled floor and sob against it.

“I want you to, as well.”

she breaks the eye contact, her breaths shaky and heavy. you see the slow rise and fall of her shoulders, and your hand flinches. 

“lee, come here.”

she glances at your knee before nodding quietly, lifting herself from the edge and slowly making her way to you, not stopping until she’s right in front of you. her hands fiddle at her sides, and her sense of nerves is an odd sort of comfort to you, your own stomach still prickling with the anxiety and anticipation of the moment. hands trembling, palms sticky and sweaty, you gently take ahold of her wrists, and tug her closer. she lets you lead her, just as she had that day in the subway station. god, what would have happened had that day never occurred?

her face is impossibly close to yours. you feel the smooth coldness of her watch, and you nearly shudder at the warmth of her nearness. you can feel the weight of her so close to you, and with just another tug, your chests could easily press together. you feel your mind go numb, slightly delirious, at the exhilaration of being so close to her. you could count her long, beautiful lashes if you so wished it. her gaze lifts to you, and your eyes skitter down, stomach turning at knowing she just caught you watching.

her hands carefully slip from your grip, and you feel your gut tighten in momentary panic until she places the flat of her hands on either side of your thighs. seated on the counter gives her a few inches over you and she leans down so your faces are levelled. you gulp, feeling your body taken captive by an indescribable amount of flutters and whirlwinds.

“can I kiss you?”

your lips part, the entire moment feeling far from real life, wrapped in the hazy veil of a dream or a fantasy. you’ve thought of this moment so many times – and to experience it feels like something far from the bounds of everyday life.

but, it also feels extremely real. the soft guitar of a Mazzy Star song streams through the walls, you can hear the tremble of lee’s breaths, you can feel the sticky, wet sweat of your armpits, causing your shirt to cling to you. you smell the cigarette smoke on her, and you wonder if she can smell the musk of the long day on you. the counter isn’t comfortable, and presses too harshly against you, and your lips are still dry from the chill of the rainy afternoon.

It’s painfully real, and the last thing you’d ever want is any alteration, no matter how minor.

you nod, trying to still your breaths.

lee’s eyes scan your face, just as it has so many times before. has she wanted to kiss you every one of those times?

her lips close in that hard, determined line, and you know she’s ready. those dark eyes remain on your lips, and she slowly moves in, eyelids shutting as she presses them to yours. 

the two of you meet with a small, wet sound, and your eyes close on instinct, red and blue spots clouding your vision. her mouth is soft, so soft, like every other part of her she hides, and you shiver at the feeling of them tenderly cushioning yours, wrapping around and exchanging the tenderest of touches with your bottom lip. lee kisses like she does everything – with focus, hesitation and a slow build to comfort. her lips move with careful slowness, small wet noises coming from her ministrations, and your stomach aches with how gentle her movements are, as though your mouth is a place to study and commit to memory.

☆

she cups your face with one hand, thumb gently smoothing over the bumps of your pimples, and you nearly groan at the touch. fuck, how long you had wanted her this way, how much you had craved and hungered to feel these little touches that only resided in fantasy – those long fingers along your jaw, the pad of the thumb on your cheek, those pretty, pink lips moving against yours. every small touch has you feeling a new burst of agony, excitement and arousal, all mixing together to replenish and answer the longing questions that had accumulated over months of wanting this girl.

this girl who can’t keep away from your mouth, who is starting to move faster and harder, her mouth massaging against yours with wide, firm movements. the tip of her tongue skims across your bottom lip, and you feel yourself clench at the cold touch of it. without meaning to, a soft gasp pulls from your lips, and lee’s tongue pushes into it, brushing against yours once, twice, before breaking from hesitation and beginning to stroke it with gentle laps. you squirm against the counter, aching to push down on it and grind against it, the spot between your legs aching. 

her other hand raises to your back, and you marvel at how big it feels, the touch sending you into a long, painfully obvious shudder. lee’s lips twitch, and you know she’s smiling. her fingernails skim along your back over the fabric of your shirt, and you moan softly at the tickling sensation. another puff of air hits your lips, the movements of lee’s mouth stilling for a split second, before the velvety sound of her laugh rings in the bathroom.

☆

god, she’s laughing against your lips. laughing against your fucking lips. her tongue is out of your mouth, but her lips still brush yours, upturned in a wide smile. the realization feels like the most important, cherished discovery of your entire life, and it being a true reality, one that you’re experiencing, makes you feel like you will remain locked in this moment forever, never able to move on. how could you, when this moment existing, truly occurring, is the one thing to be made real from months of private dreams and pining thoughts? you will never move on.

as the heat of the moment sizzles down, and the fog clears, lee continues to smile against your lips. you mumble, “shut up.”

your eyes wander from her nose to her eyes, and you’re frozen at how fond she looks. laugh lines creased, under eyes more defined from the lift of her smile, blinks slow and gentle, so different from how harsh they are when she’s deep in thought – she looks at you like something to treasure, and you’ve never felt so desired and exposed. not that your memory is reliable right now – every sense, every thought, is wrapped up in the kiss.

“mm,” she hums. “okay.” then, she leans in again. 

–

when lee calls her mom that night to check in, and she’s asked the usual question of: did you say your prayers?, lee doesn’t feel like it’s a lie to say yes, even though she doesn't say her prayers, and never has. it's because she held you tonight, for the first time, and that felt so close to holiness. 

she feels like she's running on a high. she feels like she could almost commit herself to belief again, so long as the scripture is written on your lips. 

[brotherwtf]

Ooooh cowboy Gale/city boy John plzzzzz! 👀

hell yeah city boy John and Cowboy Gale, I get to yap about more of my nonsense 😈😈

the original post is here, but basically the synopsis is a bratty, young, city boy John Egan who keeps getting in trouble and has to be sent away to a ranch to basically get himself sorted out. And oops! It just so happens that Gale Cleven, hot, slightly older, completely silent stable hand is working on this ranch as well

insert John just being an absolute menace bcs he's trying to seduce Gale to get out of work (it's working but don't tell anyone), and eventually realizes that he's in love with Gale

they share many a tender moment on that ranch, John is initially scared of the horses but Gale helps him overcome that fear, they share a lovely first kiss in the hay barn and John complains about having hair in his pants the whole time

basically this fic is also going to be my personal love letter to Masters of the Air Bombardier Howard "Hambone" Hamilton bcs he is my DARLING. basically he's gonna be another stable boy alongside Gale and is just wing manning it the entire fic, subtly telling John how infatuated Gale is and telling Gale to make his move, bcs if he doesn't John's gonna go back to the city and Gale is gonna regret not confessing. also side Brady/Hambone bcs I love them 😔

there's a whole lot of pointing and laughing from both sides, Ham and Gale make fun of John for wearing nice shoes and John makes fun of them for being so uptight God they are so STUPID

and of course at the end John has to choose whether to go back to his cushy life in the city, one where he has rivers of money at his fingertips, or if he's going to stay at the ranch with his love and rough it for the rest of his life

lmk what you guys want to see from this fic!! honestly I'm super excited to write this 🥰🥰

BRAT JOHN SUPREMACY

[lilacxquartz]

uncanny valley;

summary: being a travelling merchant, you often sold all sorts of oddities to willing collectors, however, something was surely off about this client in particular.

a/n: for that one ask that requested something darker & lore accurate. reader insert but mostly to explore their character, this is not x reader. • masterlist, ao3

themes: lore accurate kenjaku, torture using gravity CT, disturbing themes, violence, hurt/no comfort, unending yapping, gender neutral reader • w.c: ~3k

Travelling across the world to both curate and sell strange artefacts had become something akin to second nature for you. At often times, these things were tied to jujutsu—so you’d part with varying sorts of cursed objects, scrolls and trinkets that felt as though they were imbued with an unseen energy.

At least to you, given that you were not a sorcerer.

Collectors were usually a mixed bag of people; sometimes it would be private hobbyists or institutions seeking to expand their wealth of knowledge available—but nothing could have prepared you for an interaction with one collector in particular—oh no, no, no, they were different.

You would often zone out as they spoke too, simply because it was partially nonsensical but also because it would be long and unwinding. Such words that were otherwise spoken with velvety smoothness only to offer very little explanation or even comfort beyond their chilling tone left you feeling nothing short of wary.

And yet, it wasn’t as though you had the option to just walk away either with something unseen that willed you into listening—that compelled you into staying against your own innate fear. It was as though when they spoke, your gut instinct anchored like an unseen weight, binding you to the ground.

“You know, you claim you still can’t see them,” the man spoke, their words oozing from their lips like molten honey; slick like velvet yet stagnating with unsettling stiffness.

You cleared your throat. “Pardon?”

“The entities that are invisible to the naked eye for the majority of humanity,” they clarified, but only just. “You claim to only be slightly put off the trinkets you curate and sell, likely due to the unseen cursed energy, but what if I told you that you could see those things too?”

Once again, you were lost. Something told you that this person must have been a trickster of some sort; a devil disguised as a human being. They were certainly charming enough and the mockery that laced every word that rolled off of their tongue was surely telling too. For that reason, your gut instinct screamed at you to not trust a single word that this individual spoke.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” you carefully replied as to neither dispel your curiosity nor their claim without giving into it.

The man stayed silent for a moment while allowing a slow, creeping smile to stretch onto their face, creasing the almost perfectly marbled skin they wore. No, this being couldn’t have possibly been alive, at least not in the same way as you. Jujutsu was still a foreign subject on your ears and there was a whole lot that you still didn’t know, but you could at least recognise this entity as being far from human. Perhaps at one point they were, but the way they acted felt almost rehearsed, as if they didn’t quite belong in the body they lived in. There was something rather telling about that deep blank stare and the eyes that looked right back at you; void black dots that were unyielding like space itself—except unlike the vast stretch of eternal darkness adorned by the glitter of stars—there was instead nothing that could be reflected in their gaze.

Just pitch black vastness.

Humans—regular humans, non-sorcerers—did have a term for something like this; a feeling that someone or something was out of place. What was the name for it again? The unease that you felt when looking back at this entity was not unjustified nor was it a reach, but rather perfectly well appointed. You were feeling that currently, you were pretty sure, because you weren’t being looked at by this thing—you were being analysed—maybe even dissected.

“Technically speaking,” the man continued, leaning in ever so slightly so that their long black hair swayed forward, “all of humanity, sorcerers or not, regardless of origin, are able to see these manifestations that the Jujutsu community is gate keeping the existence of,” they added, snapping their fingers to hold your attention. “Ever had a nightmare that left you feeling off in the waking world? Or have you ever felt… watched in your bedroom late at night? Perhaps it’s something that you have convinced yourself over the last couple of years in your time as an adult that being afraid of the dark is childish, so you pretend that the threat isn’t real nor there. But why is it otherwise that humans had long feared the dark and all of those things that go bump in the night?”

“Well you can’t see in the dark,” you muttered out, trying to follow their line of thinking, “so it’s a fear of the unknown, isn’t it?”

They hummed, seemingly satisfied with the direction of where your train of thought was headed. “Correct. Now, it’s mostly children who have these retained fears. A fun little fact is that children under the age of ten, gifted or not, have been speculated to be ten times more likely to see cursed spirits than in adulthood, so let me ask you this: why is it that children are more likely to see them than their adult counterparts?”

You shrugged that time. “A more active imagination?”

They half scoffed, shaking their head. What a boring answer you just gave, they thought. You were being purposefully vague and withholding the true extent of your answers just because you didn’t want to entertain them due to a lack of trust. While this might have all been fair enough, it was surely concerning to them that this was the norm; people simply didn’t thirst for knowledge nor practical answers anymore. How bleak your life must truly be for you to purposefully shelter yourself from their fleeting tidbits of acquired wisdom that made life better worthy of living and dare they even say, exciting.

Was your sense of self preservation truly that important?

Was your life truly that worth living if that was all you had to say for yourself?

They sighed, wanting to lead the lesson in a particular direction instead. Your insolence for ignorance will be punished all in due time, regardless. “Because of a lot of things,” they continued once again, “but for the most part, it’s due to their lacking rationality.”

“Yeah?” you replied, feeding right into their trap. “Because they’re naïve?”

The entity nodded as they plucked a trinket from your stall, their voice adopting a more casual tone, “Correct. By having less control in their emotions and less understanding of the world around them, they’re more freely exposed to the chaos otherwise left unchained by the cursed realm. Which leads me to my next big question; where is a place that exists in the adult mind to let go of such sensibility and let our thoughts run free?”

Admittedly, this was fun in a way. You couldn’t help but want to solve the riddle they kept tempting you with. Perhaps you could technically dip into the depths of hell and indulge in something not too terribly condemning, after all, just far enough to get your answer.

“A dream?” you answered, thinking back to the mention of a nightmare from earlier before.

Suddenly the man erupted with almost excited glee, settling the object back into the stall as though reaching some sort of breakthrough with you, “So you were listening!” they genuinely praised, their voice becoming playful. “Very good, very good indeed. Dreams are where our souls roam free, succumbing to the chaos of irrationality and lacking structure alike. When you go to sleep, you’re entering the space between dreams and reality, potentially opening your mind up to the cursed realm and I'll bet you that any sort of oddity that you’ve ever come across while asleep, be it in an oddly realistic dream or nightmare, that you’ve witnessed it first hand yourself.”

“And you’re saying that dreams are a gateway to seeing those creepy things, or…?” you asked, trying to keep up yet again.

“Something of the sort, yes,” the man replied as they widened their creepy smile, “now, think clearly for me, will you?” they requested, snapping their fingers yet again as though to hold your focus lest you drifted away. “As an adult, just as you are now, when is a time that you can catch a glimpse into something unseen that lacks that same sort of rationality? You’re not a kid anymore, so you’re very likely at least a little jaded to the world, either through the hardships of life or due to possible trauma that has sculpted your reality... If one isn’t dreaming, then what option does that leave a non-sorcerer to be able to see cursed spirits?”

In a way however, you hated this guy for churning your mind and making you think such odd things.

…Something that existed between irrationality and the dream world?

Your head went to all sorts of places, but it seemed to all be herded towards one point in particular, leaving you suddenly uneasy with where this was all going as it all finally clicked.

With a lower voice that was just above a whisper, you entertained the question once more but with less confidence this time, “…a hallucination?”

“Very good! How clever you are,” the man replied although their voice seemed to now carry a particular coldness to it. “Let’s consider the fact that in order for a hallucination to bleed into the waking world, there have to be certain conditions applied to their psyche that are strong enough to both bend and warp their reality. This can be accomplished through a sudden trauma response such as psychosis or when facing something extreme. For example, for you, I’m going to give you a demonstration of something far simpler than driving you to insanity just yet, because you see, there’s a point in everyone’s lives that people all get to experience a great emotional stir—a moment that invites vulnerability to awaken, where hope no longer exists—such a slip of weakness right before the embrace of—“

“—death?” you finished up their sentence, interrupting their spiel.

“What a good student you are,” they praised once more, “such an academically gifted mind is surely worthy of a demonstration, don’t you think?”

Your mind blanked upon those words, opening itself up to both doubt and negativity just as they had planned for you to do so. So suddenly were you caught in between all of the readily thrown implications that they had otherwise casually implied.

You didn’t want any hand in any sort of offered demonstrations and yet you already knew that you very likely didn’t have a choice.

Without warning, you felt as though your own two feet fused themselves into the ground yet again but it wasn’t a fear response this time around. It was a slow pull that followed, but you gradually could feel as the air left your lungs by a squeezing unseen force. From a glance up, you could tell that this was their doing and that they were taking their good sweet time in doing so.

“Now, I must warn you…” the man threatened without as much breaking a sweat; their expression unwavering with nonchalance with their tone returning to something jovial, “my demonstration is likely to leave you… breathless, for a lack of better words.”

Unable to protest against the warning, you could only endure as the shifting weight of the air around you locked tight against your chest. The air, thick with something dry yet salivating at the same time scratched at your throat as the simple act of breathing quickly turned into an impossible task. It was as though the oxygen that was otherwise plentiful around you had turned solid and thereby became inaccessible.

Following another attempt, you desperately attempted to inhale only to be met with a pause. The air quite literally refused to enter your respiratory tract and your chest was left unable to expand with a breath no matter how hard you tried.

Panic was secondary upon the realisation that manifested in your system. You tried again and again to gasp, finding that it was all pointless—aimless even, since try as you might—the air remained static and unmoving.

But then a small fleeting sliver of hope slid through your system, whether it was accidental or on purpose, a slight teasing gust of air was granted back into your lungs. Such an act left you with very little comfort however as the world was already blurring all around you; dampening your barely contained light.

All that you could otherwise hear was your heartbeat that hammered loudly in your chest; reverberating like a stray bullet in a metal barrel, darting around in a deafening crescendo. Your chest then tightened once more, forcing your movements to feel sluggish, as though wading through condensed waters.

Yet, surely desperate as you were and refusing to meet your end just yet, you held on out of spite and then finally, you saw it.

Movement that wasn’t from the man alone.

Your vision still blurred, but just out of the corner of your eye, something sinister had since then materialised. Something that scurried off into the clinging shadows of the vicinity in the dead of your blurring eyes. Twisting forms of something grotesque that stared right back at you with skittish eyes.

So these were… cursed spirits?

You understood at long last and so perfectly well too. In a hurry to break away however, you backed up against your flimsy stall, not quite caring about the fragile trinkets that despite looking so dull clattered against the soft ground like clashing steel.

Swallowing hard, you felt your sense of rationality slip away as you caught sight of something malevolent and uninvited but then, as if suddenly, it all stopped. The burning in your lungs had subsided and clarity within your vision had been regained.

Looking up, you could see that their hand was no longer raised, although you were regarded with a curious, unblinking stare.

“W-what was… w-why did you…?” you couldn’t help but blabber as you tried to make sense of everything.

“Why?” they asked in the same tone of voice you cried out in as if to taunt you. “No reason, I just found you both… simultaneously boring yet curious, I suppose. Sorcerers offer their fun at times, but just regular old folk like you are worth the trouble too. It’s fascinating though, don’t you think? You have so little idea of the world around you and even with the amount of knowledge I keep repeatedly providing to you—you still insist on attempting to stay deliberately… ignorant.”

“K-keep on…?” you replied, simply repeating their words at this point. “I keep—what?”

“…Or are you finally getting it?” the man enquired, tilting their head to the side as they looked at you. “You know, I have been… studying you for this whole interaction, even way before you manifested yourself into being a merchant. Interesting choice by the way. I find it especially peculiar how you, someone otherwise unfamiliar with Jujutsu, were able to not trust me or what lies within me. Very observant, indeed. Last time this silly game of ours happened, you were much more lenient with my company, but I suppose you have learned since then.”

You stammered out another response yet again, “Manifested myself…?”

They hummed, seeming almost amused. “That’s right, manifested. But before that, do let me finish, why don’t you? I was going to say that your accusatory self wouldn’t have made it far, had you been a sorcerer with a mind like that. Could you believe it that the modern sorcerers of today aren’t paid to be so questioning and sceptical? They simply exist to do as they’re told and expel the endless negativity that is otherwise forged through the burden of humanity. It’ll never end, mind you, not as long as we as a species continue to exist.”

“So you’re… what? Against humanity or…?” you croaked out.

They shook their head with a refuting motion, “No, I’m for humanity, believe it or not. I want to see it prosper, grow and maybe even evolve. That’s why I have my interest in people like you, because why should the fun be limited towards curse users alone?”

“And you’re…” you tried to piece it all together, but couldn’t quite do it as nothing made sense anymore, “you’re… doing what exactly with me?”

“Or haven’t you realised it yet?” they questioned you, their smile faltering to a disappointed frown. “You have been flicking your eyes around the space from the moment we began the conversation, but you surely must have felt it from the very beginning, no? That this was no ordinary exchange and that your undoing had been predetermined from the start. Nothing is real; everything you see before you is fabricated and carefully orchestrated as a response from your own mind. I’m just playing along with it. You’re being distrusting because you don’t believe the faint glimmer of hope that I’m offering you because we had already been acquainted before. But worry not, the end is much closer than you think.”

You paled. “I’m dying…?”

“Maybe,” they replied almost playfully, not quite offering you a solid answer, “or maybe not. I’d prefer you didn’t let go until I’m done with you, but then again… you’re also no use to me if your brain has turned to mush.”

Not bothering with another reply, you tried to make sense of this whole thing by yourself instead. It was surely jarring as you made the realisation though, the hallucination left your immediate vision and revealed that you were instead in some sort of dingy, dank room instead.

A basement, perhaps?

Your eyes crept down, noticing that you were tied down to some sort of patient chair, like the type you would see at a dentist’s; your ankles and wrists strapped into looping holes that were drilled to the edges. Assorted bloodied instruments lay both on the tiled floor and on metal trays with strewn teeth and pried out fingernails collected in little glass jars.

Come to think of it, your hands felt surely raw and your mouth festered with the taste of trickling copper.

The man before you hovered nearby, holding onto a scalpel in one hand and a marker in the other.

With an almost excited tone, their voice now promised something chilling, “Now let’s see just how far these visions go if you were to be skinned alive.”

Blanking, you panicked and refused.

Which was how you now found yourself plunged somewhere new, playing the role of an adventurer roaming around an unreal world.

(And who truly knew what your next encounter could bring?)

[necroromantics]

Turns out its Mental Health Awareness Month this month.... So since yall know me and my tendency to yap about mental health issues, I'm going to share some of the ways I express mental health in my Creepypasta AUs (Cryptpasta AND Laundry and Taxes, mostly just for Toby and Clockwork). Its kinda long and a nonsensical ramble.... Enjoy

CRYPTPASTA

-Nina was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder when she was 15 after a visit to the psych ward due to attempted suicide after a bad fight with an online boyfriend of hers

-She's very desperate to be loved and cared for, and intensely fears being abandoned to the point she'll put herself in harms way in an impulsive attempt to get people to stay in her life, or care for her, or want to be with her

-She has so much love to give to the point it overwhelms her, and tends to come out of her in forms of jealousy and anger outbursts, and desperate attempts to make people stay, because Nina wants love, and to give love

-Nina is also a very loyal friend who is very ride or die. She knows what its like to be left out, abandoned, betrayed, and she couldn't imagine doing that to the people she loves

-Clockwork also has BPD, she was going to be treated for it during her stay in the psychiatrist hospital when she was 16, before she killed her family, but never got around to it

-Her BPD presents a bit differently than Ninas. Her fear of abandonment and betrayal causes her to push people away entirely, and she struggles a lot with splitting

-She goes from thinking fondly about someone, to thinking they're the worst person in the world who does nothing but hurt her, because hating someone is much easier than risking loving them to her. Clockwork struggles a lot with making and keeping friends, because she can't trust anyone, and she tends to push people away at the tiniest fault as a way to protect herself

-Toby is her Favourite Person (FP), but she tries her best to beat this attachment to him down. Luckily for her, she's stuck with him, and he has zero plans of betraying or hurting her in any way. She tends to split on him a lot though

-Clockwork struggles a lot with anger and emotional dysregulation, she tends to view things in black/white, all or nothing, and is very impulsive. Because her emotions are so overwhelming and guttural, Clockwork struggles to be able to express them at all, and has a very bad habit of beating all her feelings down

-Toby was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder when he was 15 after experiencing his first manic episode, where he got into a really bad fight with his dad, ran away from home, and got sent to a psychiatric hospital where he was given proper treatment

-After becoming a proxy, he didn't have access to treatment anymore, and a combination of stress, Slender Sickness, and a lack of sleep, causes him to have more frequent and intense episodes

-During his manic episodes he is very euphoric, always on the move, talks non-stop to the point he doesn't make any sense, has racing thoughts, is insanely energetic, rarely sleeps, and is much more aggressive and irritable. They usually last one or two weeks, but if they're really intense and he's experiencing psychosis, Tim or Jack will get him medication from some victims to regulate him

-His depressive episodes feel like death for him. He isolates himself, always in bed, oversleeping. He's so tired all the time, lethargic and moody, irritable. Toby doesn't want to talk to anyone, he tends to lose all hope and humour, everything seems so heavy and bleak, like every bad thing he's ever done and been through has finally caught up to him

-On really bad days, he'll struggle with suicidal thoughts, where Jack or Brian will talk him down, and Clockwork will just sit quietly by him so he knows he's not alone, because even if it feels like the world is ending, it never really is

-Toby also deals with issues associated with Antisocial Personality Disorder, though he was never officially diagnosed because proxies don't really have psychiatrists

-Toby struggles a LOT with empathy, and is generally an insensitive prick who has a very hard time genuinely caring about other peoples lives or problems. To him, its all about self preservation, every man for himself, and if he's capable of handling his own issues then he shouldn't be expected to coddle "weak people who cant handle their own". This stems heavily from beliefs he learned from his father, and certain mindsets he utilizes to help him get by in his life as a proxy

-He also greatly struggles with appropriate emotional responses, and morality. He doesn't understand why most things are deemed "right" or "wrong", and thinks people are dramatic or care too much for having strong morals on things. Toby says what he wants without and regard for societal norms or rules, things he wasn't really taught anyways

-Toby is also in a constant battle for freedom. At a young age he was made to feel small and powerless, which caused him to constantly feel like he's fighting for power and control in his life. He tends to fulfill these needs by putting others down, or starting fights with people because he always needs to defend himself

-This also makes him a very practical and loyal friend towards the people he's fond of. He's very much an "acts of service" guy because he values his freedom so much, that he's willing to spend his time and effort and give up a little bit of freedom to the people he likes. He's a ride or die friend, and he always encourages people to stand up for themselves and do better for themselves

LAUNDRY AND TAXES

-Laundry and Taxes is an ongoing fanfiction Im writing about what life for the Creepypastas (mostly Toby and Clockwork) would look if they were suddenly transported to a world where nothing bad happened. No murder, no Slenderman.

-It's very personal to me and is about getting better and healing from trauma and mental health issues, and forgiveness, and reconciliation

-I think during mental health awareness its important to bring awareness to the facts and struggles someone might have, but also the recovery. Which is what Im gonna get into here

-The story follows Toby, who constantly struggles with his pride and "me vs the world" mindset

-He learns how to ask for help, how to put his pride aside and seek out support from the people around him. He learns how to open up and trust that people will be kind to him, and that the world isn't as bad as it seems

-His recovery is, as all good things are, insanely difficult and horrible and painful and messy, but theres a lot of focus on how worth it everything is, and how all of that gritted teeth effort, because Toby has no other choice, ends up amounting to something

-He has to face the mistakes he's made, the hurt he's caused, the guilt he pushes down. He has to learn how to be kinder to himself and others. Toby grew up in a world where he believed that it was written from the start for him to be a "bad person", and then he was forced to face the fact that he was the one doing the writing, and he has the ability to write something new for himself

-He also has to face the fact that healing isnt linear, and that the world isn't always a safe, happy place, and Toby has to learn how to handle these things in ways he never did before. Because recovery is all about learning

-The same goes for Natalie, who struggles with her past trauma, and everything she's done, and what has taken from her at a young age

-She learns how to forgive herself, and how to make peace with her anger, and how to be kinder to herself and others as well

-Natalie goes through a lot of the same realizations Toby does, and even though she spent her whole life alone and pushing people away, slowly, she starts to open up to people too and she learns how to challenge her thoughts and distrust. It's a long, difficult journey with her facing her family and her trauma and her guilt and anger, but Natalie learns that there's an entire life of peace and quietness outside of her head, outside of the past

-She learns it's okay to lean on others a bit, and that they wont hurt her, and that it's okay to feel the things she does. Natalie faces her own grief, and how suffocating it is, because its the only way she can face love too

-It takes her longer to get on track to healing because she's spent her entire life running from her problems that she never really knew how to face it, or what to do when it catches up to her. But she does get on track, and she does face her past, and that little girl in her head who's scared all the time, and how angry she is, and how loud everything is, and she becomes able to hold that little girl in her arms and sit with her for a moment

-And then, Natalie learns how to make peace with the world, and for once, she has a weird sort of hope for the future