#you can not stop the decay with all your advancments

[magdeleinas]

pls someone ask me about my alien fic/book-I-want-to-write-and-then-sell-to-the-alien-people plsssss I'm beggingggg

[hederasgarden]

A Gilded Cage

Summary: As a mutant who can siphon energy and emotion, you’re brought onto the team by Val to control the Void—but things quickly spiral beyond expectation. Pairing: The Void x F!Reader x Bob Word Count: 4K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Dub-con, coercion and manipulation, elements of shame and guilt, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex and heavy angst.) Not all elements are tagged.  A/N: My muse went a little feral on this one. Thank you to @writercole and @gettingvetted for beta'ing and to @seeyalaterinnovator and @trelaney for letting me scream in their DMs about this. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist | Lewis Pullman Masterlist

Valentina prepared you for this moment as best she could, providing you with exhaustive psychological profiles of Bob and the Void, along with video documentation. You even heard firsthand accounts straight from the team, and even from Bob himself. But now, standing before him, you realize none of it could truly capture the depth of what you faced.

The Void was not just a presence; he was an overwhelming, suffocating force that seemed to bend the very fabric of reality and leech the light from everything in sight. With each step towards him you feel that ever present core of hope within you flicker as the bright airy room of the tower decays into a greyish pallor. Instinctively you want to recoil, but you force yourself forward. 

You have a job to do. And failure isn’t an option.

“I wondered when you’d show up,” he murmurs, his voice sliding through the air like smoke, curling into your bones and seeping into your mind. 

He turns, his eyes fix on you, twin pinpricks of liquid gold, tracking your approach with unsettling attention. It’s as though he sees beyond your body, peeling away your thoughts, your fears, your very soul, layer by layer. It’s unnerving to be on the receiving end of such attention, to be seen so clearly like you see others. But where your gift brings comfort and calm, his unearths only discord and grief.

"Such a pretty little jailer Val sent." He tilts his head consideringly, and a hollow laugh follows.  “No... not a jailer. Not really. Val’s little pet, aren’t you?” he says, something cold beneath the amusement. “She thinks you’re here to stop me.” 

You don’t bother correcting him. Even if he can’t influence your emotions or force you to drown in the howling, bottomless pit that churns inside him, he still sees the invisible leash Val has coiled around your neck, pulling you this way and that for her own purposes. 

“We need Bob back,” you reply calmly, advancing steadily towards him. Each step is slow and measured, your shoulders purposely relaxed. 

“I won’t let go that easily,” he informs you. 

“I know,” you say, moving close enough to brush the edge of his shadowed form. 

His hand snaps out in an instant, seizing your wrist. His touch is impossibly cold, unnatural, and you recoil. Shame oozes from his grip, thick and black. It hurts more than you expect. You exhale softly, the sound barely audible, but you don’t let your emotions surface. 

“I can take your pain,” you promise him. “Let me.” 

Your aura unfolds into his, cool and steady, a salve to suffering he exudes. He shudders, and for a fleeting moment, the dark shroud surrounding him flickers, its shadowy tendrils thinning just enough for you to catch a glimpse of Bob beneath. His face is pale and drawn, and his lips part, a silent scream you never hear before the darkness clamps shut around him, and he’s gone again.

The Void releases a distorted hiss and pulls you flush against him. His form is solid, unnervingly real beneath the swirl of shadows. There's weight to him, oppressive and inescapable, and your heartbeat spasms against your chest. 

“I know how your gift works,” he whispers, and his voice is a rasp just behind your ear, soft and invasive. “A handshake. A fleeting touch on a stranger’s arm. Subtle... harmless.”

Slowly, he drags his fingertips along the curve of your lower lip, tugging it down ever so slightly.

"We’ve read your file," he continues. "If you want to siphon anything from me, you'll need more than a brush of skin. You need prolonged contact. Something deeper…intimate. Lasting."

The words land heavy, and you freeze, a cold knot of revulsion twisting in your stomach. The light brush of his fingertips along the collar of your dress makes his meaning crystal clear, and for a moment, all you can do is stand there, paralyzed.

The Void smiles.

His mouth stretches wide, revealing sharp, immaculate teeth, bone-white against the surrounding black, a grotesque contrast to the glowing eyes above. 

“I want your shame,” he says, voice low and full of hunger. 

His hand rises to cup your jaw. Your fingers wrap around his wrist in an attempt to assert some measure of control, but your aura flares weakly, breaking against his like a wave crashing on rocks, its force dissipating without impact. 

He smiles knowingly. “Give me what I want, and you’ll get Bob back,” he promises, his voice curling into your thoughts. 

Disgust and anger burn away the shock you feel, and you grit your teeth, forcing your power to gather beneath your skin, feeling it pulse and swell with a steady, growing pressure. With a ragged exhale, you push outward, unleashing the full force of it. The wave of energy sends the Void several feet from you and washes away the darkness, leaving only Bob and you standing under the midday sun. He blinks at you, his expression shocked, and then he smiles, soft and sweet. 

Relief floods your body, and for a heartbeat, the weight of the Void’s presence is gone from you both, but the moment is short-lived. Darkness shifts, gathering at his feet, swirling and reforming with unnatural speed. It moves like a tidal wave and in the blink of an eye, reclaims Bob and pulls him back under. Dark laughter follows, echoing for too long in the open space.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he growls, closing the distance between you and pulling you firmly back against him.

A rush of adrenaline floods your veins, and you reach deep within, calling on your gift, urging it to the surface. Then, just as your power stirs, the Void’s next words freeze you in place.

“I know what Val promised you if you could control me,” he whispers. “And what will happen if you fail. Where she’ll send you.”

His words conjure images of sterile rooms, restraints, and faceless men in white coats. Places where people like you stopped being a person and became a subject. Somewhere you didn’t come back from. It takes everything you have not to let it consume you, not to let the panic, the gut-deep terror, slip free. A futile effort because the creature in front of you isn’t guessing how you feel or what will happen to you. He doesn’t need to. He knows.

Your throat tightens when you try to swallow, struggling to find your voice. When you force the words out they are thin and unsteady. "If that’s what you want from me, you could just take it.”

He sighs, long, exaggerated, as if the very idea disappoints him, but the hunger behind his eyes never dims. 

"That’s boring," he says. "I want your submission. Your shame, little pet. The weight of knowing you traded a piece of yourself for your freedom. And knowing," he leans in until his mouth hovers inches from yours, “that you’ll do it again and again every time I emerge.”

“No,” you croak. “I won’t.”

The smile that spreads across his face is anything but comforting, an ugly gash that stretches across his blurred features. "Resist if it helps," he murmurs. "But we both know what you’ll eventually decide."

You turn away, your lashes fluttering in a futile attempt to block him out, to escape the suffocating proximity. His breath mingles with yours, the air around thick and heavy with his presence. It feels like you can’t even breathe. Then his large hand settles at your waist, and you flinch. His fingers flex against your flesh, possessive and eager in a way that makes your stomach churn. Every fiber of your being wants to pull away, to scream, but you know it’s pointless. 

Fear and anger fizzle out as another feeling rises to the surface. Resignation. You are trapped, caught in a web spun not just by the monster in front of you, but by Val too. There’s no escaping this. No way to win. If you fail to return Bob, Val will hand you over to be dissected and studied. And if you do as he asks, you’ll be giving away a piece of yourself you can never get back. 

There is only one choice, you realize. The same choice you’ve faced your whole life. To survive. To endure. 

Your shoulders sag, heavy with defeat, and you lower your chin to your chest, the whisper of your acceptance barely audible. It tastes like ash in your mouth.

He moves instantly. His lips crash into yours, hard and consuming. There’s no tenderness, only raw, possessive hunger. The hand at your waist slides down, wrapping around your lower back, and then you feel your feet leave the floor. He lifts you effortlessly, holding you against him, suspended just above the ground like a doll in his hands.

It’s disorienting and your lungs burn, desperate for air, but he doesn't relent. His tongue, hot, almost scaldingly so, moves against yours with a force that overwhelms thought. You're so focused on the sensation that you don’t even notice you’re moving. Not until your back meets the cool glass of the window. The shock of it makes you gasp into his mouth as your feet touch the floor once more.

The Void pulls back and stares down at you, inhaling slowly until his breath spills into a low, primal groan, as if he’s tasting something in the air between you.

“Delicious,” he rasps. 

Your pulse spikes, the fear you’re trying to suppress creeping up your throat, choking you. 

“Val even dressed you so pretty for me.” His tone is mockingly sweet as his fingers toy with the hem of your dress.

The choice of your attire was deliberately chosen by her. No weapons. No armor. Not even a hint of the strength you carry. Just soft fabric in pale, passive shades that left your collarbone exposed, your legs bare. It was a costume crafted to make you look delicate. Harmless. The kind of vulnerability that would draw a predator close.

It was meant to disarm him, but now, with his fingers grazing your skin and his breath falling hotly against your ear, it’s clear it was never him left unguarded. It was always you.

The scrape of his teeth against your pulse point jolts you back into your body, sharp and sudden. A broken sound escapes your throat as he gathers your skin between his teeth and bites down possessively. Your fingers curl into the black, swirling mass of his chest, desperate to ground yourself and dissipate the pain. 

“Shhh,” he whispers, laving his tongue over your tender skin. “You’ll like it soon enough,” he promises.

His hands trail up your sides, fingertips grazing the swell of your breasts with deliberate slowness. Bright eyes catch yours, steady and unblinking, studying every reaction. You can’t look away, even when one of his hands settles over the hollow at your throat. His long fingers span your neck with ease, and your chest rises in a trembling breath, tight with fear at what he means to do. But he only smiles, letting his fingers trail down to trace the gentle scoop of your neckline. 

Goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch, and a shuddery gasp leaves you when they slip beneath, sliding under your bra to brush against bare skin. He teases one nipple and then another until they harden under his touch, sending a shock of desire through your body. The scrape of his nail across the sensitive peak has you jerking forward, lips parted. He captures them in an achingly gentle kiss, building a warmth in your chest you try to ignore. 

“Will you taste as sweet as I imagine?” he questions. 

You blink at him dumbly, your lips swollen and tender before suddenly he’s at your feet. All you can see of him is the unruly outline of Bob’s wild curls when he presses in close, urging your thighs apart. Without warning, he hooks one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, leaving you teetering on a single foot. His breath is warm and moist against your clothed core, and you feel it grow damp as he mouths along the fabric. Your hands hover, uncertain and trembling, before one instinctively moves to the crown of his head, more a reflex than intention, as if to push him away. But before you can act, his hand closes over yours, holding it there in a silent command. A twisted show of encouragement that turns your resistance into complicity. 

He groans, a low, filthy sound that you know will haunt you. Your underwear is torn from your body with ease, allowing him to get his first taste of you. He drags the flat of his tongue slowly through the length of your cunt, lapping with unrestrained hunger, his nose nudging your clit with each pass. Your insides coil in a tense knot, torn between pleasure and revulsion under his unrelenting pace.

To have his mouth on you like this feels invasive, a violation of more than just your body. He’s taking pieces of you with every touch, and you can do nothing to stop him.

“So wet for me, little pet,” he croons. “I thought you didn’t want this.”

You clamp your mouth shut, lips drawn tight in defiance. You won’t give him the satisfaction, but he doesn’t seem to need it. The sting of shame burns beneath your skin, and he drinks it in with every slow, deliberate flick of his tongue against your cunt. Worse is the spike of desire that curls in your gut when he works one finger inside followed by another, the rough pad of his thumb circling your clit with precision. He seems to know just the rhythm to have you squirming beneath him. Then his mouth seals over your tender bud, and you cannot keep quiet any longer.

A desperate keen builds in your throat, spilling out between your unwilling lips. Your hips lift, and you follow the sensations he brings, unable to stop yourself as a powerful wave rolls through your body, nearly stealing your vision. The Void doesn’t relent, doesn’t give you a moment of reprieve. He works to make your body his, your pleasure and shame his greatest feast. You come again with a frantic chant of please, please, please, whether begging him to stop or to keep going, you can’t even tell. For the first time in forever, you realize it’s only you in your head. No echoes of another's feelings, no interference. Just the raw, unfiltered purity of your own emotions. And it feels so good.

You don’t want it to stop. 

But then the Void pulls away, rising smoothly to his feet, just as your third orgasm threatens to break. You nearly reach for him, driven to soothe the ache deep between your thighs and feel something that is wholly, undeniably your own once more. The realization of what you were almost about to do crashes over you like ice water. Horrified, you pull back, the cold of clarity cutting through the haze.

“It’s been years since you’ve felt anyone’s warmth,” he murmurs, trailing the back of his hand along your cheek. “Val never let you wander far, did she?”

Your gaze flicks away from him, fixing on the high, vaulted ceiling. Humiliation crawls under your skin, burrowing deep inside as he continues to speak. He’s close enough that you can smell yourself on him.

“Nothing but your fingers to keep your company, leaving you needy for more. Desperate to be filled.”

Moisture clings to your lashes. You blink it back, unwilling to let it fall. A trembling breath escapes your lips, shaky and thin. You just need to get through this, get to the other side of today. 

He chuckles, low and knowing, seeming to pluck the thought straight from your mind.

“Today’s only the beginning,” the Void promises.

Your limbs feel heavy, uncertain, and you let yourself slump against the glass wall behind you when he guides your leg around his hip. Even now, after everything, it shocks you how real he feels –not like a ghost, but flesh and bone. Solid. Warm. Present. It's wrong. He shouldn’t feel this human. Self-loathing coils with something more insidious in your chest. You hate how your body responds to the feel of his knuckles brushing over your cunt as he lines himself up. How it wants him.

You brace yourself for cruelty, for the same brutal hunger he turns on others. To be consumed, used, and broken. Instead, he’s tender, almost painfully so as he splits you open with his cock inch by inch. He wants you to feel every part of him until he’s fully seated inside you, your bodies pressed impossibly close together. The gentleness is disarming, unravelling you more than violence ever could, but it’s the weight of your own shame that eclipses everything else.

Effortlessly he lifts you from the ground, and without thinking, your other leg wraps around his hip, drawing him closer than you intend. Your hands find their place on his biceps, gripping them tightly for support, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. He continues his steady pace, and need sparks along your nerves.

He groans, his hand settling loosely around your throat, reminding you of his power. 

Power.

The word reverberates through your fogged mind, thick with the weight of the Void’s presence and what he’s reduced you to. It’s a battle just to surface and to remember who you are beneath the haze, beneath the way he makes your body feel. But you have to. You have to.

Tentatively, you reach outward, your aura stretching like a fragile thread in the dark. It brushes against his, soft and searching. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even notice, lost to the ragged rhythm of his own breath, adrift in his pleasure.

So you press deeper.

You wrap around him, slowly, carefully, letting your light seep into the cracks of his being. The darkness yields, drinks you in like rain on sun-starved soil. You bring the Void closer, kissing him willingly for the first time. It’s a fight not to lose yourself in the warmth of him, the unexpectedly velvety feel of his lips as your power flows into him. Your own pleasure spikes as his increases into a frantic need. He abandons all pretense of gentleness, using your body to find his own end. Fingers dig painfully into your flesh, and the hand around your throat tightens. 

Your eyes flutter, the blurred outline of his face sharpening just enough to betray something familiar about him. Bob’s features flicker beneath wispy shadows of the Void, like a memory struggling to surface. But the eyes… the eyes are wrong. Not Bob’s warm, weary gaze. They are something far more alien, golden white, and burning.

You gasp for air against the restriction of his hand and force yourself to reach deeper into the well of power buried within you. Your own fingers knot into the black mass of hair, grounding you, anchoring you, as your mouth crashes into his and your tongue claims his with fierce desperation. The energy stirs immediately, rising fast, vibrating just beneath your skin, a low hum that grows until the glass behind you seems to tremble with it. You hold on to it until it’s indistinguishable from your own guilt, fury, and desire. 

“Give me it all,” the Void pants into your mouth. “Your shame, your need. Show me, show me, show me,” he chants. 

Your back arches, a cry caught in your throat, energy pouring out of you and into him. Light encompasses you both, blinding in its intensity. Your orgasm sweeps up through your chest, spreading along every fiber of your being, flooding you with a kind of euphoria you’ve never experienced. The Void stills inside you, coming undone and flooding you with a scalding heat. You hold onto him, eyes squeezed tightly closed, overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that are not your own.

When you finally summon the strength to open your eyes, you're met with a pair of impossibly bright blue ones. But it's not the color that stops your breath.

It's the look on Bob’s face.

He stares down at you, wide-eyed, his features drawn tight with uncertainty. His brows are furrowed, lips parted as if caught between a question and an apology. So achingly human and different from the Void that you have no idea what to say to him. 

Bob looks down at where your bodies are linked together, a visible shudder rippling through him. You slowly unwind your legs from around his waist, surprised when his hands remain steady beneath you. With surprising gentleness, he lowers you to the ground. You wince when he slips out from you, a stinging ache left behind in his absence. Cold air rushes in and you shiver, skin pebbling.

You press your legs together, smoothing your dress back into place. Across from you, he adjusts his own clothes, movements slow, shoulders rounded inward as though trying to make himself smaller. The silence stretches between you, but you feel his eyes on you, watching you through the damp curls clinging to his forehead.

He looks lost. Fragile in a way you hadn’t expected. And despite the horror you feel, something inside you aches to offer him comfort. But you stop yourself. His shame coils around you, thick and suffocating, merging with your own until you can no longer tell where his ends and yours begin. It threads through you both, binding tight – a connection you didn’t ask for stitched into the very fabric of who you are now. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispers.

And then he's gone.

You're left standing in the silence, alone once more. Time slips away, meaningless in the thick stillness that settles around you. It isn't until the soft ding of the elevator breaks the air that you remember how to breathe. The staccato rhythmic click of Val’s heels follows and your spine straightens before your mind catches up. You swipe at the wetness on your cheeks. 

Everything hurts, from the sharp throb at your neck where his teeth found skin to the bruising pressure you already feel blooming at your hip. But nothing compares to the deep, lingering ache between your legs. A reminder you’ll feel for days.

“Well,” Val says, looking you up and down with a critical eye, “you look like a fucking mess.” 

You blink at her, momentarily stunned, though you know by now you shouldn’t be. Not with Val. Never with Val.

“It’s good to see he left you in one piece,” she adds, lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her hand lifts to tug at the collar of your rumpled dress, inspecting the damage like she’s assessing a tear in upholstery. “Can’t say the same for your dress. Then again, I didn’t expect it to survive his… attention.”

You stare at her, the truth sinking in like a stone in your gut. She knew exactly how this would play out. From the start. And she handed you over, without hesitation, like it meant nothing. Rage wells in your chest, but horror swallows it whole, and you just stand there, hollow and trembling at the edges.

“Don’t fall apart on me now,” she says, exasperated. She gives your cheek two sharp, condescending pats. The sting lingers, and you flinch despite yourself.

“Go make yourself presentable so we can tell the team the good news,” she adds, pulling a small set of keys from her coat pocket and pressing them into your hand. They’re cold and heavy against your skin. “You earned your place here. Congratulations.”

Her heels click away without waiting for a response. You watch her retreating form, aching, marked, and trying to remember how it feels to breathe like yourself. 

This is what you wanted, isn’t it? But it doesn’t feel like triumph. It’s just another prison, gilded and gleaming, but a cage all the same. You carved off a piece of yourself to get here. And as the silence settles in, you realize the real nightmare hasn’t even started.

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on this story, requests for drabbles in this verse or other stories about Bob!

[cuteandhughesy]

Crawling Back To You | Matthew Knies

summary: the 5 stages of realizing you're falling in love with your boyfriend’s best friend (college!au).

[word count] 19.9k (…whoops)

warnings: MATURE! enemies to lovers | the slowest of slow burns. like seriously buckle up | emotional cheating? kinda not really? | thoughts of infidelity | drinking | intense make out scene | kind of a unfinished ending (sorry in advance) | suggestive scenes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: this idea randomly popped into my head before bed a few weeks ago and I immediately knew I had to write it. this is for the knies girlies (like yours truly) who can’t help themselves but fantasizing about him—I see you and I got you.

🎵 do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Prologue

lucas' arm around your hips is a firm pressure, guiding you through the crowded frat house like he's done many times before. you let him easily, smiling at friends as you pass by them.

your boyfriend doesn't really notice anybody else—too busy looking for his friends in the chaotic crowd. his fingers flex around the dip of your hip, squeezing you reassuringly. "you look nice babe."

he's told you that already tonight—when you'd showed up to his door so you could walk to the frat party together—which, is only down the hall from your door—regardless though, it's nice to hear. you tilt you head back to look at him, eyes lingering over his too-sharp jaw and icy gaze. "thanks lucas."

he hums softly, not looking at you as he continues to make way through the sea of sweat covered bodies. you sigh gently, gnawing on your gloss coated bottom lip, gaze flickering away from your boyfriend.

you and lucas have been dating for almost half a year—which in hindsight isn't that long, but when you're in university and spending every waking minute with a person, it soon feels like a lifetime. you met him in the mailroom of your shared apartment complex during the beginning of last term, and hit it off almost immediately.

lucas was flirty, and so sweet that it felt like your teeth were decaying. he was smart and played on the universities hockey team—it was hard not to fall for him. but as your brief honeymoon phase came to a close, lucas started to get a little...dull.

he doesn't make your heart race, and he doesn't  have your stomach swooping with his stare or touch, and most of the time it feels like he doesn't have the time for you. but it's fine, because he's your boyfriend, and you care for him. it's just a bit...boring, and unfulfilling.

"babe." he starts again, glancing down at you. "were you able to book off that shift? the one during next game day?"

you frown, stopping in your shuffling steps. "lucas, I already told you that I couldn't."

your boyfriend stops as well, turning towards you with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "you did?"

you sigh, a bubble of irritation rising in your chest. "yes. this morning before class."

"seriously?" he all but huffs, dropping his hands from your waist. "I wanted you there."

"and like I told you this morning, there's nothing I can do about it." you've flushed with annoyance, looking at your boyfriend with a perplexed expression. it feels like you've been going in circles about this damn shift for days—and somehow everytime, lucas makes you feel like an asshole about it. you literally work at the arena, and as only 1 of 3 staff members for the concession stand, getting your shift covered was practically impossible.

his eyes flash with something similar to annoyance. "it feels like you don't even want to watch me play, y/n."

your eyes quickly dart around the room, gulping gently as you make sure nobody is watching the exchange between you and lucas—one that feels like it's on the tipping point of turning heated. your gaze flickers back to his, crossing your arms defensively. "are you seriously going to start this here? in front of everyone?"

despite your words, nobody is paying attention to the two of you—too drunk or high or both to have the awareness they needed to realize what's going on between you and the hockey teams assistant captain.

lucas sighs gently, eyes softening as he takes in your closed off, hard expression. "look," lucas grabs the sides of your face, holding you in place. "i'm sorry, okay?" your eyes drop, mind still reeling with annoyance about the whole situation. lucas thumb runs along your cheek, "we can talk about it later."

there's nothing to talk about, you think. i've already told you.

he leans in, searching for a kiss, but you turn your head just before your lips connect—lucas planting an unexpected peck to your cheek.

from a room over, matthew knies takes a sip of his beer, a smile pulling at his lips as his teammate loudly tells the group about his latest tinder date adventure—new flash, it went horrible. his teammate, gabe, wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to date, and after hearing all these different stories about how his dates went, matthew can't help but feel sorry for these girls.

sean, another member of the minnesota hockey team, nudges his elbow into matthew's side, subtly pulling his attention away from gabe and his loud mouth and comical expression—currently acting out how he'd opened the car door during said tinder date.

matthew's brows raise, looking at the tan complexion of his friend. "what's up?"

"looks like there's some trouble in paradise, huh?" sean then shifts his eyes out of the room, down into the even more crowded foyer and kitchen. matthew's eyes can't help but follow, landing upon his roommate, and another teammate of his, lucas.

but he's not alone—you're with him. matthew swallows roughly, eyes narrowing at the sight of you. he watches as lucas grabs your face, stroking the highest part of your cheek with his calloused thumb. there's a few rushed words exchanged between you, ones that matthew has no chance of hearing over the bustling party.

sean continues, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "what do you think they're fighting about?"

matthew watches as you dodge his friends kiss, your expression full of exhaustion and annoyance. he looks away from you, eyes finding sean's deep chocolate ones  "probably something lucas started."

sean snorts. "probably—dude doesn't know what he's got."

matthew hums dismissively, taking an aggressive sip from his beer bottle. the tangy liquid fizzles against his tastebuds, the alcohol already making him feel lighter. he can't help the way his eyes find you again, watching the tail end of whatever argument you'd been in the midst of.

lucas pulls off you, a tiny roll of his eyes. but he wraps his arm around you again, pulling you further into the house and in the direction of the living room.

at the sight of lucas, a few of the guys get distracted, attention pulled from gabe and his ridiculous performance—all of them hollering in the blondes direction. the smile comes easy, and he releases you in favour of greeting everyone, bringing them into a side hug before slapping the muscle on their back.

you do your best to plaster on a smile as a couple of the guys girlfriends greet you warmly—madison, you closest WAG friend squeezes your arm from the couch beside you. you briefly wonder if she's seen the tiff you've just had with lucas.

but no, you can't think like that, if you do it'll just make you more anxious than usual. you gently shake your head, snapping yourself out of your own pity. you stand awkwardly beside the couch while lucas completely disappears into his friends, cheering and laughing as they all talk about their latest win. you blink again, this time to hold back unshed tears.

"hey girl, you wanna sit down?" another one of the wags asks you, her gentle, honey laced voice filtering through the noisy room. "you look a little out of it."

you laugh gently, blinking rapidly. "I don't think there's anywhere to sit." your words stem from truth, and as you glance around the collection of mangled, worn leather couches and stained lazy boys, the space is limited. you desperately wish lucas was a doting boyfriend—pulling you into his lap and pressing a reassuring kiss against the junction of your neck.

"you can sit here." his voice cuts through the air like a knife, sending a usual shiver through your body. you hadn't even realized matthew knies was here—but you should've suspected it when you didn't hear his usual rerun of new girl in his and lucas' shared apartment.

your eyes flicker to his, and then towards the sliver of space between him and sean. the couch is most definitely sticky, and the foam is practically spilling out the cushion—the sight has you squirming. parties have never been your thing, and you've never been one to be overly social—much preferring the silence and comfortability of your own space. if you were to go out on your own terms, you'd often opt for local bars or eateries, which usually provide a more relaxed and tone downed party atmosphere.

but lucas likes frats—so here you are. your eyes find matthew's again, and immediately you're feeling a familiar pull in your chest—one that always seems to tug in the presence of your boyfriends best friend. it's not that you hated matthew knies...it's just....he is one of your least favourite people to be around.

you're not sure when it started, but the combination of his cocky attitude and the way he seemed to always be pushing your buttons with that stupid smirk on his face, just has your blood boiling.

and you really try your best to ignore him, but as soon as his pestering starts, you just can't help but bite back.

he's looking at you with that slinky pull to his plump lips, likes he's expecting you to decline his offer and just turn tail and leave—which you are desperately trying not to do.

matthew's one eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge. "you scared or somethin', y/l/n?" he takes a slow sip of his beer, adam's apple bobbing roughly under his clean shaven throat. he licks his lips, catching the lingering liquid. "I dont bite."

the use of your last name—how it so easily slips through his lips like a song—has you biting down, your teeth practically cracking under the intense pressure. all your earlier irritation has been quickly redirected to matthew, and you eye him pointedly. "doubtful."

his smirk widens.

you shoot a glance towards lucas, but to your disappointment he still hasn't realized you're standing alone—sitting comfortably between teammates and sipping from a mysterious seltzer can. slowly, you look back towards matthew, who's grin has yet to falter.

he pats the space between himself and sean, two slaps against the leather as he wordlessly invites you over.

you can't help the way your eyes roll.

sean watches the entire ordeal like a damn soap-opera, eyes darting between you and his friend next to him—hiding his amused smile behind the neck of his beer bottle.

with a gentle sigh, you make your way towards them, wordlessly taking a seat between the two athletes with an awkward cough. immediately you're warm, the combination of the crowded house and being squished between two large men sending you into a heat flash.

although, matthew may be more of a boy than a man, but you digress.

"want a drink?" he asks you—the smirk evident simply in his tone. your eyes dart to the side, finding his flushed face.

"of what?" you question sharply.

his brows raise in amusement. "anything you want." matthew laughs once, a breathy sound that has you squinting. "there's lots of options—this is a party, y/l/n."

there's that nickname again—the condescending tone dripping from his tongue as he calls you by your last name. you grit your teeth, "that's not my name."

"I mean...It is." his eyes flicker with something you don't recognize, lip twitching as his smile widens. "you're always so wound up."

you stiffen, and you can hear sean hiss quietly beside you. matthew's looking as smug as ever, fiddling with the damp, shredded label of his drink. you let out a scoff, "no i'm not—you're just annoying."

"sure." he nods condescendingly just as he lifts the neck of his bottle back towards his mouth, plump lips expertly caressing the opening and tipping the liquid into his mouth.

you watch him move—your bubbling annoyance clear. you watch behind the rim of the bottle as his smirk returns, and that has you blinking, quickly averting your gaze. "don't you have other people to bother?"

you hear his beer hit the table as he places it down, clearly done with it. "am I bothering you?" matthew chooses to avoid your question, like usual, which has you rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time.

"I personally find this really entertaining." sean interrupts, leaning closer towards you. a half smile takes over his dark complexion, and he gets further into your space, wide, amused eyes dancing between his teammate and you. "you guys fight like you're a married couple."

you head snaps his his direction so fast you neck muscles tighten up. "what does that mean?"

matthew snickers, which immediately has you attention again. "seriously, have a drink or something — you fucking need one."

"excuse me?" your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you're too far gone to care. you're really not in the mood to deal with your boyfriends best friends cocky personality, or his infuriating mannerisms and ridiculous smirk. "literally what makes you think you can say things like that to me? god, what's crawled up your ass."

"alright, alright," he interrupts, one of his large hands raised in a mock surrender. "just chill out, I'm not trying to ruin your night."

without knowing what else to say in that moment, you look away—eyes pinched and lips held together tightly. you grab sean's half full can of cherry liquor—right out of his loose grip—and down the rest of it.

he makes a noise of protest, but you don't even care. the alcohol already has you feeling better, the affects settling deep in your belly and further warming your exposed skin—you've always been a light weight. you cringe at the flavour, letting the last sip linger on your tastebuds before fully swallowing.

"fuckin jesus, y/n." sean grumbles like he's annoyed, but his eyes tell a different story. "that rilled up huh?"

you turn your back towards matthew, facing sean and his girlfriend completely. the latter is talking intently with another one of the girls—completely oblivious to the tension brewing next her.

matthew's eyes linger on your exposed back, your cream silky top dipping low enough to expose the base of your spine. he tongues his cheek to mask the grin, slowly trailing his eyes back upwards. "you're such a baby." he says knowingly, leaning in close enough that his words tickle your neck. "turnin' your back to me."

without looking at him, you huff. "you're so insufferable." you break composure, turning back in his direction. your irritated expression is still lingering, looking at matthew like you're trying to incinerate him with your eyes. "you suddenly care about me or something?"

"you wish." his response is quick—teasing.

sean snorts, clearly enjoying this much more than you could ever.

"do you seriously think you have that much of an impact on my life?"

"I know I do." matthew laughs. "you're really cranky today."

"and you need to shut the fuck up-"

"alright, you two." sean speaks again, looking almost scared as he eyes the both of you curiously. "better stop before people start getting the wrong idea."

you don't even have the brain capacity to think about what he could mean with that insinuation. you shoot off the couch, "i'm done here anyway." you mumble hastily, immediately making your way across the small living room. you weave your way through the few people standing in the middle of the space, lingering and chatting too enthusiastically for your liking.

the other couch comes into view quickly, and you spot lucas just as fast. your arms are crossed as you walk up to your boyfriend, lips already pulling in a irritated pout. the silk of your top suddenly feels too cold—too exposing—and you just want to go.

"lucas." you get his attention, "I'm going home."

his attention is pulled away from his teammates, eyes flickering over your figure once. "you okay?"

"ask your roommate." you spit. "he's fucking infuriating."

lucas grin, rolling his eyes. "you are so dramatic, babe. just come sit with me."

a couple of his teammates snicker at his words, attempting to cover their amused smirks behind their drinks—but you catch them.

"i'm not dramatic." you start, exasperated. "and no, I'm going home."

he runs a hand over his face. "kay, i'll see you later."

"whatever." you grumble, turning away from your boyfriend. you make your way back through the sticky frat house, narrowly missing the beer spilling over solo cups as drunk university students slosh around, smashing drinks together in cheers.

the early spring chill sends you into a shivering state almost instantly—the night cold stinging your skin harshly. it's only when the noise and echoing bass fade into a dull hum that you start to cry, sluggishly walking down the sidewalk as you continue the short walk to your apartment complex.

thoughts of matthew's snarky remarks and stupid smirk are plaguing your mind—sending you into a flurry of anger and vexation. replaying the interaction in your head has you scoffing out loud, muttering irritatedly like a clinically insane person.

and then there's lucas and his rude dismissal of you—his girlfriend for fucks sake. that and the way his teammates snickered at the brief moment of bickering between you just has you spiraling even deeper.

you close your apartment door louder than you intended, kicking off your shoes quickly.

your roommate, cora, looks up from her spot on the kitchen barstool, slowly slurping her mouthful of cheap ramen noodles with her brows raised in concern. "how was the party?"

all you can muster is a growl, opening to cupboard above the sink in search of a glass. your grab the first one you see, immediately filling it up with absurd flavoured tap water.

she snorts into her bowl, shoving some more noodles into her mouth. "what happened?" she questions between her chews.

you finish the water with a loud gulp, placing the empty glassware on the counter. "matthew happened."

his name alone makes cora roll her eyes, but there's a tiny grin that she can't even hide. your roommate is well used to the hostility that lingers between you and your down the hall neighbour. "just ignore him."

it's something that's been said by cora hundreds of times—it seems that anytime you're with lucas, you're coming back with a scowl and a new story about his roommate instead. "you know he only messes with you because you give him a good reaction."

you huff, stealing the fork out of cora's bowl and serving yourself a bite of her beef favoured noodles. they're not long made, and the heat slightly burns your tongue. you hiss through your teeth, "he's hard to ignore when he's up my ass whispering in my ear about how i'm 'such a baby'" you attempt at lowering you voice to mimick the athletes, and that has her grinning, taking back her fork for another bite.

"you two are so weird." she slurps a noddle noisily, "like there's some weird sexual tension or something."

"cora!" you huff, eyes comically wide as you look at her with nothing short of perplexity.

"what?" she laughs, all but innocent. "he's hot!"

"I have a boyfriend." snatching the utensil again, you twirl the prongs through the lingering food. your face begins to heat up, something that feels like embarrassment crawling at your chest. you clear your throat, praying that cora doesn't catch your burning cheeks as you chew some more food. "besides, even If I was single i'd never date someone so...arrogant."

"whatever you say." cora teases further, tucking herself further under her extra large hoodie. you know your friend is only playing around, and there's no malicious intent with her digs—so you let it slide, even though the mere thought of dating matthew knies has your stomach dropping, making you feel nothing less than nauseous. 

"I need to take these jeans off before I explode." you whine, quickly changing the subject. you already start unbuttoning the denim as you make your way down the hall, rounding into your warmly lit bedroom in search of your favourite pyjamas.

you soon swap your party, beer smelling attire for an oversized, stained hoodie and sleep shorts—throwing your hair back and popping your glasses on. already, you're feeling much more relaxed than when you first got home. "wanna watch an episode of stranger things?" you call through the apartment, already grabbing your throw blanket.

"yeah!" cora calls back, "can you bring me the niall horan blanket from your room?"

you snort a laugh, doubling back to your bed and pulling the fuzzy, 2011 one direction throw into your arms. it's been a staple piece ever since you met cora in your freshman dorm, and you learned your new roommate from wisconsin was just as obsessed with the former boyband as you are.

you make your way back into the living area of the small student apartment, your slippers slapping the floor obnoxiously as you do. "can you grab me a coke?" you ask cora as you pass the kitchen nook.

two knocks interrupt you, the sound echoing through the wooden door that separates your apartment from the hall. you jump slightly, the unexpecting thumping catching you off guard and making your heart leap.

cora eyes the clock—almost 1 a.m. her gaze skips back to you, frozen in place with the fridge wide open. "are you expecting anyone?"

"no." you swallow, making you way to the door. "are you?"

she almost snorts. "definitely not."

skeptical, but curious, you grasp the chipping bronze handle. you're hoping it's lucas—lucas who has hopefully come to his senses and has left the party in favour of giving you an apology. with a gentle shrug, you turn the handle and pull the door open in one swift motion.

matthew is there, leaning against the door frame in all his smug, infuriating glory. at the sight of you opening the door, a small smirk grows on his face, and in that moment you think the universe must be against you—because what the actual fuck.

"hey." he says simply, his stupid smirk growing impossibly wide. "glad to see you're not dead in a ditch." your brows begin to furrow, and he continues — much to your dismay. "saw you leave the party all stompy."

you're almost speechless, at a loss for words as you blink up at him. "it's almost 1."

"very good." he snickers, like he's congratulating you for knowing the time. you want to punch him in the mouth and get rid of that insufferable grin.

"can I like, help you or something?" you question roughly, crossing your arms over your hoodie. it's a bit awkward considering the mountain of blankets in your arms, but you manage. "i'm kind of busy."

matthew peers behind you, looking into your very much empty apartment. he sees cora, still lingering in the kitchen—watching the exchange like it's a SNL skit with a tiny, amused smile on her face.

he meets your hard eyes one again. "I don't think you are, actually." he licks his bottom lip slowly, an action that seems instinctual. "are you going to be neighborly and invite me in? or just keep standing and staring."

a scoff leaves your mouth, but before you can protest, cora speaks up, her cheery voice making your heart drop. "come on in, matthew—don't mind the mess." she kicks some loose shoes out of the way, subtly pushing you to the side as well.

matthew smirks at you again, stepping into the small foyer of your apartment. you tear your gaze away from the tall boy, sending your roommate a slightly panicked look.

she just shrugs, looking back at matthew quickly. "i'll let you two chat—i've gotta get the pillows..and...stuff, from my room."

pillows and stuff? her excuse is just sad, but before you can stop her, cora is turning on her heels, practically skipping down the hall and into her messy bedroom.

now alone, you look back at your boyfriend's friend with raised brows. "so? what is it?"

something flickers across his face, and before you can register it, he sighs. "listen, i've come to say i'm sorry for tonight. I was an asshole."

"an asshole is one way of putting it." you scoff, arms crossing tighter. you pause, eyeing his seemingly sincere expression. with a sigh, you falter slightly, "but thanks."

his smirk is back. "welcome." the formality is mumbled through his plump lips, and you swallow roughly at the lazy grin.

"anything else?" you hum pointedly.

matthew shakes his head. "nope." he reaches behind his broad back, grabbing the doorknob and turning it. "i'll be seeing you around i'm sure."

you watch as he opens the door, the fluorescent lights of the hallway illuminating your dim apartment. you kiss your teeth, a reluctant nod following suit. "oh, i'm sure."

he snickers. "goodnight, y/l/n."

your face falls—a bubble of irritation quickly rising once again. you don't say anything, watching through the corner of your eyes as matthew walks down the hall to his and lucas' shared apartment.

he shoves the key in the lock, and just before he walks inside, matthew shoots you one more stupid smirk that sends your head reeling.

you click your apartment door shut, and as soon as it does, your forehead hits the flat surface, an angry groan leaving your chest.

STAGE 1: Confusion

"can I get three tequila sunrises, please?"

the burly bartender behind the counter sends you a curt nod, turning on his heels as he grabs three empty glasses to begin making your drinks.

the bar is crowded, more crowded than your usual visits, but it is a saturday night and this is the closest place to drink from campus—so it’s business doesn’t come as a shock. you look around the room, eyeing the sea of students and young adults alike—all smiling and dancing together as they down shots and sip their respective drinks.

your eyes find your small table, seeing cora chat happily with your mutual friend, rachel. you'd all been in a deep conversation about your psychology midterm results when you'd slurped up the last bit of your drink—cora already fiddling with the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass.

with a pout from rachel and a plea from your roommate, you slid off the high stool and begin sneaking your way through the bar. you sigh gently, turning your attention back to the busy bar, watching as the bartender works around his co-workers in their hectic environment.

"hey." his voice has you stiffening. slowly, your gaze flickers to your right and that's where you see matthew, leaning against the sticky bar top in his usual stupid way.

you frown, glancing over your opposite shoulder to see if he's talking to somebody that's not you—maybe a teammate or your boyfriend who has magically decided to show up tonight.

matthew snickers. "yeah. i'm talking to you."

you look back at him sharply. "why?"

he shrugs, his index finger tracing one of the raised splits on the wooden bar top. "just saying hi to a friend."

"a friend?" you question, one breathy laugh passing through your stained lips. your gaze turns pointed, looking at matthew with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "we're not friends."

"no?" he hums lightly.

you shake your head once, firmly. "I think you're forgetting how you know me."

"we live in the same apartment complex." his smile has returned at full strength, sending your chest contorting in a way that makes you angry. he's trying to rile you up, you know that by now, and even if you didn't, that grin on his stupid chiseled face gives him away—he's up to no good.

you make a face of faux innocent, mouth falling open to form a small, perfected 'o'. "oh, so that's how you know me?" your face falls, and you grab your wallet off the bar top. your hands are slightly shaky, and definitely clammy due to the adrenaline and irritation running through your veins—it's all so infuriating.

you turn to leave, but matthew's hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you. your head snaps back so fast that for a moment your vision blurs—and you have to blink quickly to clear it.

"c'mon, y/l/n, i'm trying to play nice." his grin falters slightly, looking down at you with a gentle expression.

it makes you even angrier. "well, I don't want you to play nice."

matthew squints playfully, leaning further down into your space. "kinky."

your eyes widen to unfathomable size, and your skin flushes all over. it's exactly the reaction matthew wanted to pull from you, and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches your face further contort into an expression of disbelief and frustration.

you take a few shaky, shallow breathes, trying your best to not yank your hand away and high tail out of the bar completely. "I have a boyfriend." despite the firm town of your voice, your words are quiet, only for the two of you to hear.

matthew's brows shoot up. "okay, I don't know how stupid you think I am, but I know you have a boyfriend—I live with him. i'm just being a dick."

you can't help the way your eyes roll. no shit. it's like matthew finally realizes the gentle grip he's still got around your wrist, and he drops your arm rather quickly upon realization. matthew brings his hand back to his side, fingers flexing as he tries to shake off the unknowing sensation. he clears his throat, eyes not leaving yours as he continues. "speaking of, where is lucas? thought you'd be up his ass tonight."

you hesitantly tuck your wallet under your arm, holding it to your side. after all, you're still waiting for drinks, and you're not going to let matthew drive you out of the bar before you can deliver them. "like you said," you huff, "you live with him, so you should've noticed he was home tonight."

matthew's lips drop in a small frown at your words, because no, he doesn't remember seeing lucas after they passed each other on the way to the bathroom that morning.

the tattooed arm of the bartender comes back into your peripheral vision, and he slides theee glasses in your direction. "here's your drinks."

you quickly menover your black wallet back into your hands, pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to the rather attractive tender. "thanks." he nods, tucking the money into his waist apron before turning away, attending to one of the many awaiting customers.

you look back towards the athlete at your side, who still hasn't taken his gaze off of you, and send him a sarcastic smirk. "wish I could say it was nice seeing you matthew, but i've never been a liar." you grab two of the glasses, frowning gently as you realize you can't quite grip the third. you place them down, attempting another time.

"oh wow good one, y/l/n." matthew laughs breathily, watching as you continue to struggle with three, condensation coated glasses. "are you going to ask for help now?"

you snort, "i'd rather eat glass than ask for your help."

you look like a lost puppy—one of the glasses pressed between your arm and boob, and the other one clutched awkwardly in your hand. your fingers barley reach around it, and it looks like a disaster waiting to happen.

"jesus christ, just—" matthew mumbles, reaching towards you and taking both glasses from you. and because he's annoying and has the hands of a giant, he scoops the third glass off the bar, holding the three together.

he looks at you triumphantly, which makes you want to kick him. "must you be so proud?"

"I must." he chimes. matthew finally looks away from you, which has you letting out a breath you hadn't realized you've been harbouring. his eyes filter through the crowd, brows pinched together. "where's your table?"

on cue, cora's distinctive laughter fills the room. "never mind I can hear your roommate." he begins walking in the direction of the table, maneuvering through the room like he owns it—which induces an annoyed eye roll from you. watching the crowd practically part as they see him coming through is even more infuriating.

you follow behind him, trying your best to keep up with his long strides. "her mouth is almost as loud as yours!" you smile with faux enjoyment, looking up at his side.

you merely miss getting bumped by some hammered frat guy, too busy yelling and terribly singing along to the shitty (but addictive) pop music. you miss the glare matthew sends the strangers way before he looks down at you, a smirk on his face. "seems like a match made in heaven then."

"or hell." you hum.

he laughs tauntingly. "don't be jealous."

"why would I be jealous?"

"took you long enough!" cora shouts, teetering on hammered—she's been pregaming since 5.

you watch rachel's eyes trail to your side, and immediately she's lighting up. "oh and you've brought a friend."

"not a friend—just a nuisance."

matthew laughs, too loudly for your liking, brushing past you to step onto the platform where your friends sit. "think that's the nicest thing you've said about me, y/l/n."

if your eyes roll one more time tonight they're surely to get stuck. "don't you have something else to do, knies?"

cora takes the glass from matthew's large hand, batting her lashes up at him like a damn cartoon character. she immediately takes the straw into her mouth, chewing on the plastic. "thank you matthew."

he turns back to you with a smug expression. "see, y/l/n, that's how you're supposed to respond when someone does something nice for you."

"oh well— I can't wait for the day you do something nice for me!" you clap your hands together like an exaggerated cheer, stepping up the the platform as well. you almost bump into his chest, underestimating just how close matthew was.

he just smirks, eyes slowly flickering down your body.

you swallow. "okay, you can go now."

"anything else?" matthew questions, brows raised expectantly.

"what?" you breathe through your teeth.

his smirk grows. "i'm waiting for a thank you."

you exhale through your nose, eyes briefly flickering closed for a passing moment. when they re-open, matthew doesn't falter, if anything he looks even more cheerful. "thanks." you grit out.

"you're so welcome." he shoots you a quick wink, waving goodbye to your friends before he steps off the platform, making his way back to whichever group of loud cronies he'd been with before he started pestering you.

"you two are so ridiculous." rachel laughs into her glass before taking a hearty sip—her eyes not once leaving you.

you whine, taking your original seat next to cora. "i'm one more interaction away from transferring schools."

cora groans loudly. "oh my god."

the conversation thankfully shifts after your dramatic remark, and the rest of the night seemingly goes by in a flash. you actually end up dancing for most of the evening, sandwiched between cora and rachel as you all scream song lyrics and laugh with one another. it's nice and refreshing—thankfully taking your mind of him.

you end up feeling more tired than you expected soon after, the combination of drinking, dancing and being at school since 10 that morning is taking its toll on you. "i'm gunna head out." you tell cora, leaning in close so she can hear you over the bassy one direction throwback.

"what?" she pouts, her hazy eyes wide. "I don't want you to go!"

you laugh gently, accepting the hug as she throws herself at you—stumbling over her own two feet in the process. "i'm tired." you admit. "do you and rachel wanna come with me?"

"no! the night is still young." cora looks at you like you're crazy for even suggesting that.

"okay party animals." you bid another goodbye to both of your friends, ordering and uber for yourself before stepping outside. you're hoping the chilled air will sober you up a little bit—because the last thing you need is to fall asleep in an uber, or worse, get sick.

you sigh gently, swaying on your feet as you stand outside the bustling bar. strangers and traffic are steady, providing a surprisingly comforting atmosphere.

the door creaks open behind you, the inside chaos growing louder for a split second until the threshold is closed once more. instinctively, you glance over your shoulder, and the sight has you groaning. the universe must be praying on your downfall, because there he is. "seriously? are you stalking me or something?"

matthew's brows raise, his hands shoved in his jean pockets as he walks towards you. "that doesn't even make sense—you've already seen me tonight…”

his words have you scoffing, and you turn your head away from him as you grumble frustratedly. "fucking...whatever."

he doesn't respond immediately, and the night life is the only sounds heard. ever impatiently, you check the uber app again, praying your ride is almost here—but they're still 5 minutes out.

"where are your friends?" matthew's voice interrupts your peace.

"why?" you question with hesitance, your glare pointed as you look towards him.

he laughs briefly, although it sounds more like a scoff. "god, you're so tightly wound! i'm just trying to make conversation."

you're taken aback for a moment, blinking quickly as you take in his words. with a quiet, irritated sigh, you look away from him once again. "you really don't need to."

you peer down the road, praying you see the uber that somehow has magically sped through time. matthew scoffs again. "why don't you like me?"

"besides the obvious?" you question condescendingly, eyes not leaving the road in front of you.

"sure, besides the obvious."

you spin on your heels, which in hindsight isn't the smartest decision because your stumbling dangerously. matthew's eyes widen in concern for a moment, but you catch yourself before he has the chance to reach out. you eye his flexing hands with anger, a grumble leaving your stained lips. "you're just, ugh! insufferable."

his brows raise. "i'm insufferable?"

you nod. "yes."

"really?"

"yes, matthew! god this, what you're doing right now is quite literally the definition of insufferable. like, if you looked up the definition a video of this interaction would play." you breathe roughly, gesturing between the two of you like a crazy person. at some point during your rant, you'd stepped closer to him—close enough that you have to tilt your head back to properly look at him.

matthew's lips slowly contorts into a smirk, one that sends your blood boiling. "you're such a nerd ."

you laugh in disbelief. "que the insults!"

his eyes change then, his smirk dissolving as a more serious and intense expression takes over his face. matthew licks onto his bottom lip, gaze pointed. "it's wasn't an insult."

your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you watch him…watch you. before you can say anything—do anything—the sound of tires screeching to the curb has you pulling away.

the passenger window rolls down, and a middle aged man come into sight. "uber for y/n?"

"yeah, that's me." you say quickly, walking away from matthew as fast as your feet allow you, and practically jumping into the running car, as soon as the seatbelt is clicked into place, the uber is moving, sending you falling back against the seat.

you watch through the window as matthew looks at the retreating car—not talking his eyes off the vehicle until you're nothing but a set of break lights in the distance. you swallow roughly, blinking away the flurry of emotions pulling and pushing at your chest.

STAGE 2: Shifting

almost a week has passed since your...interesting? annoying? pointless? conversation with matthew outside the bar, and you thankfully haven't seen him since.

which is surprising considering you've been at his apartment almost every night with lucas. as much as you hate to admit it, and as much as it makes you angry, you were curious about his whereabouts. anytime you'd been cuddling with lucas on the couch, watching some shitty show he liked—your mind would wander, and anytime there'd be any noise in the hall, you'd wonder if it was him.

where was he? what's was he doing? is he avoiding you? but no, because matthew loves pissing you off too much to just avoid you...right?

you curse yourself everytime matthew pops into your mind, quickly distracting yourself with whatever task you could get your hands on. like right now, ruffling through the snack display on top of the counter at work.

the arena is extra cold today, and as your arms touch the metal basket containing the various chips and crackers, you shiver—not even the team branded zip up around your torso is helping.

"y/n," the floor manager, jason pops into the booth. "we need some more pineapple. can you get some from the players kitchen please? just the frozen stuff for smoothies." his voice is hopeful, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

you sigh gently, kissing your teeth as you turn to look at him. "sure."

he smiles in your direction, but just before he leaves, jason doubles back. "oh! and a few protein bars, i'm starving."

"sure." you nod curtly.

"and while you're there, grab me a green juice?" this time at least jason manages to look somewhat guilty, his grin almost doubtful.

you almost find it amusing, and you raise your brows as so. "why not."

jason cheers. "you're the best."

with that you make your way out of the room, not fully shutting the door behind yourself as you know your arms will be too full to use a handle when you come back. the walk to the players section of the facility isn't a long one, and it's only a few minutes until you're entering the 'smoothie room' — as you like to call it.

it's always in pristine condition, and you almost feel guilty for simply breathing in there. quickly, you grab everything you need from the room, including the bag you'd filled with frozen pineapple and some nasty smelling green drink for jason.

with your arms full, you leave the room and begin making your way back to the snack bar. you round the corner into the most open part of the corridor, expect this time it's not empty, and around 10 of the guys have started kicking the ball around—a pre-game warmup that a lot of them liked to participate in.

you plan to just sneak through, keep your head down and try to not too badly interrupt the ritual—for lack of a better word. timidly, you begin making your way towards the rowdy group, eyes focused as their voices get closer and closer.

the sound of the soccer ball smacking against the wall has you freezing, and before you know it the inflated ball is soaring towards you. you don’t have a chance to react, and it hits you right in the chest, sending everything you'd been previously holding scattering to the floor.

embarrassed and irritated, you sigh, crouching down as you begin to attempt and salvage the mess at your feet. an all too familiar pair of running shoes appear in your vision, coming to a squeaky stop as they approach. "damn, you alright?"

you look up, squinting from the glow of the fluorescent lights lining the corridors. like you thought, it's matthew. his expression almost resembles one of concern, which has you pulling a disgruntled face.

he's slightly breathless, running around and kicking a soccer ball at you must be the cause. he's alive, you think reluctantly.

you look away from him, grabbing the two bottles of green juice and tucking them under your arm. thankfully, neither plastic bottle cracked when they hit the tile.

he sighs roughly, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes. matthew slowly bends down as well, grabbing the astray protein bars from the ground. "good talk." he mutters condescendingly.

your eyes dart up, a scoff tumbling past your lips. the audacity of matthew to be annoyed with you is just beyond comprehension. "sorry i'm not in the mood for small talk with you matthew after you just kicked the ball at my chest—i'm going to have to throw this fruit out now, thanks."

the pineapple is a wet, spilled mess across the floor. the bag had split when it dropped, and the ball has smooshed the fruit as it fell with it. you're not even sure what to do about the mess—looking at it hopelessly.

"I didn't kick anything at you, but sure it's my fault." he grumbles, looking at you once again.

"really? then who did?" you tone is dripping with doubt, looking at matthew with nothing but exasperation.

"ask your perfect little boyfriend." matthew immediately looks like he regrets his words, eyes widening momentarily before his gaze darts away from your face.

"my perfect little boyfriend who's also your friend?" you scoff.  "god, touch some grass matthew." you know it's a terrible rebuke, and the way matthew smirks in disbelief following your insult has you feeling even more irritated with your choice of comeback.

you don't dwell on it much longer as the sound of somebody else approaching you both captures your attention. you look up just as lucas joins you, standing behind matthew with a tiny grin. "hey! babe you okay?"

you stand up, clutching the drinks to your chest. "fine." you nod.

lucas smiles again, moving to wrap you in a hug. it’s awkward, with your arms pushed against your chest and the green juice pressing into your boob uncomfortably. he kisses your head quickly. "sorry, we were all just messing around and I didn't see you."

your face falls, and you pull back from your boyfriend. "it was you?"

"yeah." he repeats, looking anything but guilty. "said I was sorry."

you unwrap yourself from his hug, stepping back. the whole conversation with your boyfriend has rubbed you the wrong way, and even if he didn't mean to kick you with the ball, his apology wasn't enough of a sincere gesture as you would expect from someone who supposedly loves you.

"I gotta get back." you say quietly, eyes downcast as you further back away from your boyfriend. instinctively, your eyes flicker towards matthew's tall stature. you both hold eye contact for a moment, unknown words lingering in the air between you.

you blink, picking up pace as you walk through the hall.

jason beams as he spots the pile of protein bars in your hands, taking two along with his green juice before skipping out the room. trying to shake off the weird feeling from the interaction with matthew in the corridor, you get back to work, organizing the fridge in preparation for tonight's game—you know how much the minnesota students love their alanis, and you need to make sure that fridge is fully stalked.

there's a good 5 minutes of silence, nothing but you, your thoughts and the loading of the fridge—until there's a knock at the open door.

you look over you shoulder, and there matthew is again. you don't know what to say because you don't know why he's here or what he wants. is he here to gloat? to apologize? to taunt?

matthew takes your silence as an invitation, stepping into the snack booth with a neutral expression. he's still dressed in his sports clothes—a team branded sweatshirt with matching shorts overtop compression pants, completed with his backward basball cap. it oddly suits him, and your stomach drops at the realization of what you've just done.

you kinda sorta checked him out.

"here." matthew interrupts your thoughts, clearly unaware of your wandering eyes and the inner turmoil happening in your brain. he walks further into the room, and that's when you see it—a bag of pineapple clutched in his hand.

in your rush to leave the corridor, you'd completely forgotten to run back and get more fruit.

"where do you want me to put it?" he questions.

"uh," you hum lightly, eyes moving around the room for some available space. it's kind of a mess in here, and you really need to get your shit together before you open. "just beside the coffee machine for now."

matthew does what you ask, putting the frozen ziploc beside the kureig on the side counter. he doesn't say anything else, and walks out the room without so much a second glance in your direction.

you bite your inner lip, knawing the soft skin as you blink furiously— trying to collect your whirlwind of thoughts. above all, you're angry. angry that you were hit with a ball, angry that matthew was right about who kicked it, angry that lucas gave you a shit apology, and that matthew didn't even attempt to annoy you when he'd brought you the pineapple.

—

lucas presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, pulling you into his chest on the outskirts of the lit up courtyard. around you is busy, lingering students and staff members alike chat and walk through the space with an upbeat pace.

every year since you've been attending the university of minnesota, the hockey team and staff members would host a barbecue and movie night in the schools courtyard. it was always an amazing turnout, and for only $5 dollars to get in and get something to eat and watch a throwback film (this year being freaky friday), it was quite the rage. plus, the money went to a fundraiser that helped public schools in the area have breakfast. so it’s a win win.

so not only do you go with the intent of supporting the youth of neighbouring schools, but your boyfriend is one of the co-organizers of the event. so of course you show your face.

which brings you back to the current moment, pouting up at lucas with the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage. lucas sighs gently, running his hands over your jean jacket covered arms. "don't give me that look."

you don't let up, but your lips begin to form into a grin. "what look?"

"the look you're doing right now." he laughs once, squeezing your biceps tightly. "you know I have to be all over the place, babe. I can't just stand with you."

your exaggerated, playful pout quickly changes into a real frown—even though you don't want to show that emotion. because lucas is one of the co-organizers of the event, he's got lots of duties to attend to while the event is happening. so although you're technically here to spend time with your boyfriend, you'll barley get to see him.

plus, cora is sick and had no choice but to stay back at the apartment and watch re-runs of friends, and rachel wouldn't be able to come until the movie starts—coinciding with when her shift at work ends.

"I know but..." you trial off, taking your bottom lip into your mouth anxiously. you've never been a huge fan of crowds—especially when it's tightly gathered in a confined space—and the idea of having to be alone right now is rather daunting. "can't I just help you? like just go with you?"

lucas sighs again, eyes flickering out to the crowd around you. the smell of cheap burgers and hotdogs are already filtering through the air, providing the most perfect early spring atmosphere for the evening. he meets your eyes once more, "it just won't work like that. hey, you'll be okay."

he kisses your cheek, doing his best to reassure you, but you still feel down. "right, okay."

"get yourself a drink and just chill—i'll find you when I can, okay?"

you send him a closed mouth smile, breathing through your nose in a gentle exhale. "okay."

with that he turns away, quickly moving through the lingering crowd as he makes his way into the courtyard. you huff lightly, looking around the sea of people to see if you recognize anyone—literally anyone you can stick with until rachel gets there. but nobody is there.

you eventually follow the crowd, entering the lit-up courtyard. it's decorated in various streamers and balloons representing school colours, along with a spread of beanbags and camping chairs set up for the movie. it looks really good, and even though it's not the warmest temperature due to the night sky, the collection of bodies and decor have the place feeling cozy.

you spot a long table through students, full of what seems to be drinks—various waters, juice and sodas lining the gray fold away surface. you sneak your way through, eyeing the options before inevitably deciding on water. caffeine will just make you anxious, and your favourite juice flavour wasn't an option.

in your peripheral vision, you see a member of the hockey team standing on the other side the table—presumably keeping track of beverages and taking payments. without properly looking up you begin shuffling through your clutch, "how much for the water?"

"it's free."

the all too familiar and cocky voice of matthew knies has you freezing. slowly, your eyes creep upwards, only to be met with the light eyes of his. he'd been the hockey player in your peripheral, and you curse yourself for not noticing sooner.

his brows raise, anticipating a snarky remark. but much to his dismay you turn away, walking back through the crowd and away from him.

he turns to mitchell, one of his teammates, patting his shoulder quickly. "mind watching the table for a sec—gotta do something." matthew doesn't even wait for a response before he's following you, easily making his way between the bodies crowded around.

matthew catches sight of you off to the side, seemingly unaware that he’s hot on your trail. he approaches you swiftly, getting your attention as he speaks. "you're like really bad at the whole socialization thing."

your eyes widen briefly, watching as he casually leans against the nearest table.

"maybe I just don't want to socialize with you." you retort, eyeing him pointedly before taking a slow sip from your water bottle.

matthew smirks. "that's mean."

"don't care." you answer, looking back out into the yard.

a beat passes. "you come alone?" matthew questions, seemingly curious.

you cross your arms. "sort of."

"sort of?" matthew parrots, eyes briefly scanning the crowd. "what's does sort of mean?"

you look at him again. "well I came with lucas, but he's busy so now i'm here...with you." the last part has you pulling a face, scrunching your noise is displeasure.

he snorts. "don't pretend like you don't enjoy my company."

"enjoying isn't quite the word i'd use to describe how I feel about you and your company." you retort lightly, brows pulling tightly.

matthew sucks his bottom lip, containing his grin. "okay, so why aren't you mingling? this is supposed to be a event of socializing."

"I'm not a fan of mingling." you tell him earnestly, clearing your throat in a moment of venerability. "or crowds. besides the fundraiser, I only come for lucas."

"yeah crowds aren't for everyone." matthew's genuine tone has you taken back, and you eye with an almost shock like gaze. "sorry that you're dealing with it alone."

you feel weird—why does the sincerity in his voice make you tingly? "well," you begin. "i'm not alone because you've insisted on coming over here to annoy me."

his smirk is back. "it is my specialty."

you laugh a real laugh, a very brief moment of quiet joy that takes you by surprise. the way his eyes twinkle and smirk widens at the sound of your giggle goes unnoticed by you.

"babe." lucas voice calls out, jogging up to you and matthew. "hey." he greets, pulling you into his side and kissing your temple. "I got a minute, thought i'd see what you were up to." his eyes flicker to matthew's. "see you've found a friend."

matthew's eyes don't leave you, waiting and watching for your reaction to your boyfriends words. you swallow gently, "he was just keeping me company."

"she's not a fan of crowds—thought i'd take a few minutes from work to make sure she's settled." this time when matthew speaks, he's only looking at lucas, and you don't miss the underlying message in his words.

lucas seems oblivious to the hostility underlying his teammates admission, a smile overtaking his face. "anyways, I gotta get back. gunner was telling me about this new club out on main—i'll catch you guys later."

as soon as your boyfriend is out of ear shot, you send matthew a furious glare. "what was that?"

"what was what?" he questions innocently, eyes yet to meet yours again.

"i'm not stupid, matthew, you were trying to..I don't know? like one up lucas by insinuating he's a bad boyfriend for not spending time with me. what the fuck." you spit angrily, gaze tinted with fury.

"I'm not insinuating anything, i'm simply just calling it as I see it." matthew retorts.

you breath a shocked laugh. "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're lucky he didn't catch on to your stupid little coded message." you take a breath, arms tightening over your chest. "he's your friend—why are you trying to ruin that?"

matthew takes a step towards you. "like I said, i'm just calling it as I see it."

"bullshit." you chime. "what's it to you that lucas is busy tonight and he's not able to spend time with me? seriously."

his brows raise, an amused expression on his face. he knows he shouldn’t argue with you, especially when what he wants to say will only further upset you—but he can’t help himself. "he's too busy to spend time with you, yeah? but tell me why we're in the same job position and I haven't left your side since I saw you. so call whatever you want bullshit, but the real bullshit is the guy standing next to his teammate doing absolutely nothing but making you look stupid."

matthew's words have you pulling back, face faltering. you feel emotion clawing at your chest, flushing your skin a rosey pink as the embarrassment and anger about the situation hits you all at once.

his face flashes with remorse, looking down at you with a lingering guilty gaze. his mouth opens slightly, as if to speak—but nothing comes out.

"fuck you." you hiss quietly before turning on your heels and leaving. everything in your body feels like it's on fire, walking through the courtyard with a determination you didn't even realized you had. you can feel matthew's eyes boring into your retreating figure, but you don't dare turn around and look.

he's right—god, he's fucking right. matthew not only calling out your boyfriends shitty behaviour but your obliviousness to the truth about the situation, stings you hard, and you didn't know what else to say or how to react besides the way you did.

you’re even angrier about the fact that even within the little attention matthew had given you tonight, was more than lucas had all day—and the time matthew spent at your side in the bustling courtyard, had your anxiety about the crowds fizzling.

STAGE 3: Denial

the sound of basketball shoes squeaking against the polished wood of a court has always been one of your least favourite things. it's a high pitched, constant sound that has you cringing every time.

you eyes flicker up towards the scoreboard—it's almost half time. it's a relief, and you are almost giddy at the fact that the stupid squeaking while be on a momentary pause.

lucas squeezes your thigh, right over your jeans. you look over at his gently, met with the sight of his curious grin. "what's up babe?"

you shrug, "just watching the timberdogs!"

"it's the timberwolves." he corrects you, eyes twinkling with amusement. you laugh it off, looking back out into the basketball court, eyes following the players as they zip back and forth on the length of the floor.

lucas' dad has always been super into basketball—like more that the average person. he's got a room in his childhood home that's designed to resemble the minnesota timberwolves court, as well as a plethora of jerseys and seasons tickets for every year.

you're not sure why his dad couldn't make it to this game—lucas had told you in the car on the way to the game but you'd been too distracted with everything else going on inside the vehicle to truly pay attention. maybe he was sick? it also could've had something to do with his car breaking down? you don't recall—but regardless, the tickets weren't being used, and they were offered to lucas.

you assumed it was just two—because lucas didn't have any siblings, and you would think it was just his parents attending these games. but no, there's four tickets, because it was always a group of 50 year old men attending together.

so what you hoped was a date night between you quickly turned into a little group outing with your respective roommates. which wouldn't of been such a problem if you weren't still reeling about the last conversation you had with matthew—in the courtyard when he practically called out your entire relationship.

the reminder makes you shift in your chair, angling yourself away from matthew even further. you can hear him sigh to himself, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as his leg bounces up and down with a feverish pace.

it's annoying—more than the shoes on the court. you huff, turning to look at him. "can you stop moving, it's distracting."

he turns to his head. "how is it distracting?"

"i'm trying to watch the game." you retort.

matthew's brows raise incredulously. "you've been watching anything but the game since it started."

"that's not true." it is true, and his call out has you feeling even more infuriated than when you first got to the arena. "I love basketball."

"sure you do." he nods, unconvinced. "instead of watching me then, get back to watching your timberdogs." matthew messes up the name of the NBA team on purpose, teasing you with your own fuck-up.

you huff. "you are so-" the sound of the buzzer echoing loudly throughout the court silences you, whatever insult you'd been conjuring up dying on your tongue. the players begin filling off the court as halftime begins, leaving the crowd to begin freely moving and walking throughout the stands and hallways—replenishing snacks and/or drinks.

on the opposite side of matthew, cora leans forward, looking at you with wide eyes. "hey! i'm going to get another coke. do you want one?" her voice is loud, and even still it's barley heard over the rowdy crowd.

"yes please." you smile. your roommate nods in understanding before getting up, making her way down the row of seats before disappearing out of sight—leaving you with only lucas and matthew.

matthew snickers—mostly to himself—eyes downcast as he fiddles with a loose thread on the knee rip of his jeans. "didn't think you were capable of such manners."

"didn't think you were capable of such big words! woah, i'm impressed." your face falls, words dripping with sarcasm as your annoyance builds higher and higher.

you shoot a look towards lucas, but are only met with the sight of him engaged in his phone—playing fucking candy crush of all things—completely unaware of the tension rising between you and his friend.

"of course your impressed." matthew insists, "everything I do impresses you."

the lingering crowd around you seems even more roudy than before, but your too enthralled with matthew to even look away and glance around. despite the noise, you can hear him fine—too fine, if you're getting specific. 

your mouth drops, a tiny puff of disbelieved laughter leaving you. "oh so we're back on the 'y/n is obsessed with matthew train.'"

matthew slowly leans closer to you, his elbow nudging yours on the tiny shared armrest between your seats. his cologne invades your space—something clean like fresh laundry mixed with a spicy cinnamon. it's almost intoxicating, and you're left frozen in place.

"we never got off that train." his words are dripping with a teasing undertone, licking his bottom lip slowly.

a hand nudges matthew shoulder from the row of seats behind yours—gathering his attention. curious, you turn as well, finding a guy seemingly only a few years older than you, looking down at you both with a sheepish grin. "you guys are on the jumbotron."

both your heads whip back around, darting up towards the jumbotron hanging from the exposed ceiling of the court. much to your horror, you and matthew are on the screen—the image framed in a heart filter with 'kiss cam' scribbled across the bottom.

you and matthew both flush—although your heat is definitely more visible, trailing down your neck and appearing in splotches over your exposed chest. "no." you say, making a cut off motion beside your neck with your perfectly manicured nails. "we're not together."

it's no use— the jumbotron can't hear your pleas. matthew shakes his head, joining in on your attempt to get the camera off you both. through the screen you see matthew shift his attention to you, which has you whipping around to look at him. his gaze is almost soft—curious, maybe.

suddenly the crowd gets louder, their unison chants echoing through the building. "kiss kiss kiss!"

the commotion finally has lucas looking away from his phone, and at the sight of what's happening in front of him—his face falls. his brows furrow slightly, gaze switching between the jumbotron and the both of you—staring at one another.

lucas quickly grabs your face, turning you away from his roommate and planting a messy kiss on your lips. your eyes widen slightly, but eventually flutter closed—allowing your boyfriend to move his lips along yours.

matthew swallows roughly, looking away and back towards the screen. the camera has since shifted, showcasing you and lucas in the last lingering moments of the bruising kiss. the crowd cheers, but as soon as you pull away from him, the couple on the jumbotron changes.

lucas expression shifts, lips pulling into a frown as he pulls away from you—his hand quickly retreating back into his lap. "why didn't you nudge me?"

your mouth open and closed quickly, "I-I don't know."

"you don't know?" lucas's tone is quite, but firm, clearly unhappy with the situation that just transpired—even though nothing really happened.

you shrug, and blush once again, but this time is purely from embarrassment about the scolding from your boyfriend. "no, the crowd was looking and I just, I tried to say no but the camera wasn't hearing me. are you seriously mad at me?"

your eyes quickly flicker around the immediate area, making sure nobody is outwardly eavesdropping on your hushed argument.

"should I be?" lucas retorts, pulling your attention back to him. he's looking at you curiously, tinged with something that seems like hope as he waits for your response.

you swallow roughly, once shake of your head following. "no."

lucas exhales shakily, the corner of his mouth sliding into a grin. "okay," he mumbles, throwing his arm over your shoulders. "then i'm not mad."

you allow yourself lean into him easily, but your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and a million unknown feelings, and when you try and even begin to understand them, you're just left more confused.

the crowd begins filtering back into the arena, finding their original seats as the halftime clock begins winding down—the third quarter approaching quickly. cora comes back down the isle, squeezing past outstretched legs as small apologies spew past her lips.

you catch her eye, and her smile grows. "a coke for you." the posh, royal tone she often uses comes to a slow halt, passing you your drink as she eyes your somber expression.

you take the plastic cup. "thanks."

cora gives you a knowing look—one that says your sudden shift in mood will be discussed later in the comfort of your shared apartment. you're not sure why you're dreading that so much.

just as the buzzer sounds throughout the arena again, signaling the resumption of the game, your eyes flicker back towards matthew again. his jaw is tight, and you can see the tendons moving under his skin as he grinds his teeth together. matthew's leg is bouncing again, faster than before—his gaze locked on the court.

it's a longer glance than you intended, but you can't help yourself—something inside you is unwilling to look away.

that dreadful noise of shoes on the polished floor pulls you away, your nose scrunching as you inwardly cringe at the sound.

quickly, matthew's eyes flicker to you—only to be met with the side of your face. he watches gently as your face drops from the previous tight pull, your smooth skin stretching over your perfectly shaped nose.

the puffiness of your lips and the lingering blush on your cheeks, and the way your hair cascades down your back in the most delicate blowout...matthew can't help the way the faintest grin ghosts over his face.

the rest of the game thankfully goes by quickly, and before you know it you're all back in lucas’ car, making the drive back to your apartment located near campus. thankfully cora and lucas fill the lingering silence with pointless conversation—you and matthew only chiming in when necessary.

you don't know what exactly happened, but you know something has shifted. you don't know what it means, or what will happen because of it—and that has you feeling really weird.

as soon as you're back in the comfort of your own apartment, cora smacks her purse down on the counter, gathering your attention with the harsh sound. "what's going on with you?"

your shoulder deflate. "I don't know."

she frowns, walking further into the apartment where you've decided to flop dramatically on the couch. your pants pull uncomfortably around your waist, and the button is digging into your belly pouch like nobodies business.

cora sits down beside you, facing you with curious eyes. "did something happen at the game? it felt like when I went to get the drinks, I missed something."

"I was on the kiss cam." you breathe.

"okay?"

"with matthew."

"oh." she is momentarily taken back, blinking three times quick as she digests your words. cora is very much used to your and matthew's supposed hatred for one another, even though she's never believed it. but the look on your face at the game isn't adding up to just 'being on the kiss cam with matthew'.

cora's brows pull tightly, creating a deep wrinkle between them. "what else happened?"

"I think," you start, voice dropping as if you weren't the only two people in the room. "I think matthew wanted to kiss me."

her eyes widen to an unfathomable size. "what?! how do you know?"

your mouth opens, a sharp breath passing through your lips. "I just....I don't know, there was something about the way he looked at me. am I being crazy?"

instantly cora shakes her head, a gentle frown on her face. "no. the eyes never lie."

your expression droops in a mixture of confusion and fear, eyes beginning to glaze with emotion as you look at cora.

she continues, "and if he tried to kiss you, what would you have done?"

"I don't know." you exhale shakily.

you hear your roommate coo gently, wrapping her arms around you in a much needed hug. your eyes pinch shut, holding onto cora's arm as you continue the embrace.

you are so screwed.

—

how lucas managed to drag you to another loud and obnoxious frat party is honestly beyond you, but there you were—doing your best at mingling and letting loose while lucas was off doing god knows what with his teammates.

rachel thankfully ended up being at the party, and as soon as she ran up to you and made herself known—you didn't leave her side. which in hindsight maybe wasn't the best idea.

you love rachel, truly, but she's never been the best influence—especially when alcohol is involved. one minute your sipping your first seltzer, and the next you're stumbling over, 10 drinks in and screaming chappell roan lyrics like nobodies business.

which means right now you're hammered, sluggishly walking through the busy frat house as you attempt in finding your boyfriend. because drunk you is clingy—and a little horny—and all you want is the warm touch and attention of a man.

unaware, drunk bodies bump into from both sides—too caught up in the party atmosphere to even notice you. it makes the journey a bit harder, but somehow you haven't managed to fall on your ass, so you'll count that as a win.

"y/n?"

the sound of your name has you blinking, looking around the room until you locate the culprit. matthew's hand touches your exposed shoulder, grabbing your attention. his brows pull together, and he bends his knees slightly so he's able to properly look into your eyes. "hey are you with me?"

you blink. "your eyes are like really pretty." a fit of giggles follows your slurred admission, tumbling forward slightly as you clutch your belly.

matthew's hands steady you easily. the combination of your shitty balance and surprisingly playful and kind words tells him all he needs to know about your current state—you're drunk.

"where's lucas?" he asks you, beer can abandoned on a side table beside one of the terribly stained couches lining the makeshift sitting area. matthew eyes you again, "or did you come with cora?"

you shake your head. "cora's a loser and had to work—so here I am."

he can barley understand you due to the slurred, sluggish string of words, but he catches the jist of it. "so you're alone."

"no..." you retort, huffing like you're annoyed. "lucas is here. wait! have you seen him?"

"not for hours." matthew tells you. "I think you need to go home though."

you whine a protest, shaking off the hand he'd still had on your shoulder. matthew isn't having it, and before you can register what's going on, he's grabbing the meat of your biceps, guiding you to the couch before sitting you down.

"hey!" you huff, falling back against the cushions—wow, for a frat couch it's really comfortable.

"i'm going to find lucas, okay? stay here." matthew tells you firmly before walking back into the heart of the crowd, on a mission to find your boyfriend. it's actually not a hard task, and he's only looking for a minute or two before he spots lucas—in the back corner with a couple guys from the team and some mystery girls, all laughing and passing around a joint.

"hey," matthew starts firmly, grabbing the groups attention. lucas brows pull, taking a slow drag from the joint resting between two loose fingers.

"lucas man, y/n needs to go home—she's practically black out."

lucas groans, passing off the joint to the blonde girl closest to matthew—the same girl who's been eyeing him since he walked up to the group a few moments ago.

"fuck, man. I forgot she was here."

his word have matthew's jaw ticking, eyes squinting pointedly. "you forgot your girlfriend was here?"

lucas, ever oblivious, doesn't catch the irritation lacing his roommates words, and he only shrugs nonchalantly before taking a hearty sip of beer. he looks at matthew, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "listen, I'm still having a good time. can you like, take her home?"

matthew can barley hold back a scoff. "seriously?"

"i'd really appreciate it." lucas says. "I can trust you, right?"

that really rubs matthew the wrong way, because what the actual fuck is he even trying to insinuate with that comment. before he can bite his tongue, matthew's anger comes boiling to a point. "yeah, because i'm not some no good boyfriend who's spending his time doing drugs and flirting with 18 year olds while my girlfriend is alone and vulnerable."

lucas blinks, taken back—but matthew doesn't care. matthew sends one more harsh glare towards him before leaving the area, weaving back through the party.

when he reaches you again you're practically sleeping, holding your knees to your chest and using them as a pillow. your face is squished, your blinks slow.

"we're going." matthew tells you, gently nudging your knee.

you groan, lifting your head. "where's lucas?"

"he's not coming."

"oh." you sigh, blinking with unshed emotion. your hair is wild, like you've been sweating and running your fingers through it all night—which you have. and if matthew wasn't so frustrated with his roommate right now, he'd probably tease you about it.

matthew helps you off the couch, wrapping his arm around your waist to provide you with some stability as he guides you both outside.

the fresh air is shocking, sending you into a fit of shivers almost immediately—despite the mid may warmth. thankfully it's not a long walk back to the apartment, and matthew only has to stop with you twice because you claim you're going to throw up—spoiler alert, you don't.

you stumble out the elevator, tripping over your own two feet. matthew grabs the back of your tank top, halting you back up. "okay, slow down."

"but i'm tired." you whine, head falling back dramatically.

"you're gunna be real tired when you smack your face off the ground and end up in the ER." matthew let's go of your shirt, but takes ahold of your wrist, practically pulling you down the hall towards your apartment door.

"I don't want to go to the ER." you tell him, eyes widening with panic.

matthew's almost amused, sending you a small smirk over his shoulder. "okay, then let's get you inside."

"okay." you nod in agreement. thankfully the door is unlocked, because matthew didn't even want to start asking you about the whereabouts of your keys while you're this obliterated.

you sigh happily, kicking off your shoes messily before stumbling through your dark apartment. blindly, matthew finds the switch beside the door, flickering on the overhead light.

as soon as the room becomes illuminated he located you again, lounging half on the couch. he moves towards you, his smirk growing. "that's not your bed."

"it's not?"

he stifles a laugh. "no."

you whine again, head lolling to the side dramatically. "can you take me there?" your arms extend out towards him, resembling a mummy. "please. don't be mean."

matthew gulps gently, but takes ahold of your hands, pulling you back into unstable feet. "i'm not mean." he tells you, letting go of your hands. it proves to be a mistake because your immediately falling backwards.

matthew curses, grabbing you before you hit the couch and pulling you back up. you laugh, feeling very much like a ragdoll. you look up into his eyes, "you are too."

"you're mean too." he says, wrapping an arm around your hips and looping his fingers through your belt loop. he begins walking you both down the hall, "you're the one who calls me names."

you gawk loudly. "i'm only defending myself, matthew."

"whatever you say, y/n." he hums playfully. "which room is yours?"

you tell him that it's the room at the end of the hall, and allow matthew to continue guiding you to your bedroom. he nudges the half open door with hip, opening the threshold completely.

he drops you to the bed, and you go easily, falling against the unmade pile of blankets with a smile on your face. "where are your pyjamas?"

you lazily point towards the tall dresser next to the door. "top drawer."

matthew nods, pulling it open and immediately stifling through the jam packed drawer. he manages to pull out a t-shirt and plaid pants—ones he's seen you wearing at his place before. he tosses the items beside you. "think you can manage that?"

you sit up quickly, a lazy scoff falling past your lips. "yes." you grab onto the pyjamas, and before anything else your eyes widen, glancing back to matthew. "turn around."

matthew snickers at your tone—obviously he was going to turn around, but seeing you get so worked up over it has him left amused. he turns on his feet, broad back facing you as he looks into the dark hallway—patiently waiting for you to change.

you begin taking off your tight, alcohol sticky clothes, desperate to get into something comfortable and climb under the blankets. you lift your shirt over your head, and the momentary lack of vision has you stumbling, falling into the chair beside your vanity.

you hear matthew's quiet snicker. "shut up." you grumble, pulling on the pyjama shirt.

"didn't say anything."

"you thought it." you retort. eventually you get into the pants as well, and immediately climb into your bed. the sound of your delightful sigh and ruffling sheets have matthew peeking over his shoulder, making sure you were decent.

once he sees that you are in fact dressed, he faces you again. "do you need to be sick?"

you pause, is if you were assessing yourself to find an answer. a beat passes, "don't think so."

he hums doubtfully, walking towards your vanity and taking ahold of your tiny trash bin sitting underneath. you'd emptied it that morning, so there was nothing but a makeup wipe and a few q-tips in the bottom from when you'd gotten ready. matthew puts it beside your bed. "just in case you're lying."

"excuse me," you huff, squinting pointedly. "I don't lie."

he ignores you, picking up the stuffed zebra sitting on your bed, wedged between the pillow and the headboard. matthew snorts, examining the matted fur and scratched button eyes of your most prized possession. "awh, who's this little guy?"

you push up, snatching your zebra from his hands and bringing it to your chest. "don't touch ross with your filthy hands."

"his name is ross?" matthew snickers as you cuddle the stuffed animal, rubbing your cheek against the top of its head.

you nod. "yes."

"cute." he hums.

your eyes feel heavy with sleep, and it has you falling back towards the pillows, your beloved ross smooshed against your face. matthew swallows gently, watching the way your breath begins to even out and your blinks become slower.

"goodnight, y/n." he whispers.

matthew walks out your room, slowly shutting the door behind him—but just before the latch click, you mumble his name. it has him pausing, slowly pushing the door open once more.

you're looking towards the door lazily. "can you stay with me.”

matthew's face falls, swallowing roughly at the sight of you—laid out on your bed, completely relaxed and pretty. you don't even know what you do to him, and it drives him insane. he sighs. "no. I can't."

you pout, a breathy wind blowing past your dry lips. "pleaseee...lucas never stays with me."

the mention of your boyfriend has matthew scoffing, the conversation they'd had earlier coming back to him in a angry wave. "lucas is a dick."

he's expecting your to scold him, so matthew is surprised when your gentle giggles float through the room. "such a dick." you slur in agreement.

a moment passes, and your quiet giggles slowly die. wordlessly, your hand comes out fromunder the covers and pats the spot beside you—inviting him on your bed.

matthew's breath hitches, but he doesn't walk away. matthew softly shuts the door before walking back through your room, stepping over stray shoes and your discarded party clothes on the way to your bed.

"I don't bite." you grin teasingly.

matthew can't help the smirk that makes its way onto his face. "doubt it."

your smile mimics his, and that has matthew getting onto your bed, sitting atop the covers and leaning his upper body against your plush headboard.

it's only a few more minutes before your gentle snoring is heard throughout the room, a tell tale sign that you've fallen into a deep sleep. matthew watches you for a moment, letting the peace linger between you—a peace that has never been between you before.

matthew's eyes begin to feel heavy, and before he knows it, your soft snores are lulling him to sleep.

STAGE 4: Ignorance

when you woke up the following morning, you were in a state of confusion, still dealing with the lingering affects of alcohol and trying to re-collect your memories from the night before.

with a groan, you got out of bed, shuffling down the hall and into the living room. thankfully, cora is still sleeping after he late night shift—so you're in complete silence as you pour yourself a hefty glass of ice water.

it comes back to you in flashes, each blurry memory worse than the last—rachel convincing you to have another drink, followed by another, the loosing rachel at the party and having to walk through the house while hammered. then matthew is bringing you home, without lucas for a reason you don't recall—matthew in your room, changing behind his back, him touching ross...you pleading for him to stay.

your breath hitches—a mixture of embarrassment and hangxiety hitting you at full force. then you feel yourself panic, your stomach dropping. had you even checked beside you this morning? was your boyfriends best friend still in your bed?

you quickly—much quicker than you should be moving when you're that hungover—make your way back down the wall, sheepishly peeking into your bedroom.

he's gone. and that makes you feel worse than before.

you don't see him for the whole day, and then the next day comes and you still don't run into matthew knies. not in the hallway of your apartment building, and certainly not in the elevator. you don't see him at school, or even at the hockey rink. the one time you spend the night at your boyfriends, matthew is nowhere to be found. almost two weeks pass, and you haven't seen him at all.

it's making you anxious, and not only can cora tell—sending you looks of pity anytime you're making dinner together—but lucas can tell something is up with you too.

anytime he'd ask, you'd brush it off with a easy excuse—you're tired, or you have a headache—but it was never believable, and it was becoming repetitive.

did you say something to him? did you do something to him? you're reeling with possibilities of what could've happened between you and matthew knies to have him actively avoiding you.

but honestly, you're no better, and after a few days the anxiety of it all was getting to you—and you begin actively avoiding him as well. you  call in sick to work anytime your shift is during a game, and you've only spent time with lucas if it's at your apartment. you leave early for class with the hopes of avoiding running into him, and you stay behind late for the same reason.

it was exhausting but you couldn't help it.

so when cora texted you this afternoon about meeting up for lunch between her classes, you easily agreed. wednesday's were your free days, with no classes to take up your schedule—moping around your apartment while dealing with the mess of emotions in your head wasn't your most ideal choice of productivity.

so with only an hour until cora's lunch gap, you strip out of your pyjamas, tossing on your robe before making your way to the bathroom. you throw your hair up, only intending to wash your body and hopefully clean off any lingering lazy and anxious energy from your skin.

you sigh, pulling back the floral printed shower curtain. immediately, you scream, jumping backwards as the sight of a large, brown spider that greets you—scurrying up the walls before slipping back down.

your eyes begin welling up with tears as dry sobs rack your body—of course there's a fucking gigantic spider in your bathtub.

you rush out the bathroom and make a beeline for the front door, pulling it open with the upmost urgency. you don't even close it, speed walking down the dimly lit hallway until you're at your boyfriends apartment.

your knocks are frantic, perfectly capturing the emotions your feeling. thankfully it's only a few moments of your panic stricken knocking before the handle turns, the door opening to reveal not lucas.

matthew's taken back at the sight of you—hair piled on top of your head with a makeup stained robe around you, bare feet on display. quickly, his eyes land upon your face, and the sight of your tears and pale skin has him faltering. "what's wrong?"

you swallow roughly, a few tears trailing down your blotchy cheeks. "I went to take a shower, and there's a huge fucking spider and i'm so scared of bugs—I don't know what to do, I need help." you're a babbling, sniffling mess, eyes darting between matthew and back down the hall.

"it's okay." he says quickly, stepping out into the hallway. "i'll kill it, okay?"

you nod, blowing out a shaky breath. "okay." for as long as you can remember you've had a crippling fear of any and all creepy, crawly insects. something about the way they scurry around quickly, unable to know what it's thinking and what it's planning to do to you, never fails to leave you shaking.

your fear has completely taken over your body, and it's the only reason you're able to speak to matthew knies without remembering the past few weeks between you—or rather, the lack there of.

you follow him back to your apartment timidly, trialing behind his broad shoulders like a lost puppy. he breathes gently as he enters, grabbing one of the extra shoes at the front door—the spider killing weapon of choice, clearly.

"it's in the tub." you mutter, eyes darting down the hall. matthew nods, walking towards the bathroom like he's not about to battle the eight legged beast residing in there.

he pulls back the shower curtain further, and you peek around his bicep—locking eyes with the creature. you shiver, a disgruntled moan leaving your mouth. matthew looks back at you. "sure you wanna watch?"

in all seriousness, you nod. "I need to know it's dead."

"okay," he hums, grip tightening around your floppy, strappy sandal. the spider is still crawling around, attempting to escape over the lip of the bathtub but inevitably falling back down.

it's definitely not as big as you described it, but matthew doesn't even dare bring that up. at least, he won't until the spider is gone and you're returning back to a normal heart rate. he brings the shoe up before quickly bringing it back down, but before it can be smooshed, the spider scurries away.

you squeal once again, eyes filling with salty tears as you grip matthew's arm—hiding your face is the soft material of his sweater. "its moving!"

he has a hard time stifling his laugh, looking down at you with an amused expression. "why are you cryin?"

"i'm scared." you mutter, fingers digging into his arm muscle. "hurry up and kill it—oh my god, i'm going to be sick."

matthew rolls his eyes, the action laced with fondness rather than irritation. "well I can't kill it if you're holding onto me for dear life." he watches the way your eyes dart towards the grip on his bicep, and you quickly release him, taking a small step backwards.

now with his arm free, he approaches the tub again, and this time when he brings the sandal down, it finds the spider, smacking the unwanted insect with a sickening plat.

you practically gag, wringing out your hands in disgust at the sound.

matthew looks at you again. "you good?"

hesitantly, you nod. "yeah."

thankfully matthew cleans up the remnants of the spider from your white tub with some toilet paper, eliminating any disturbing evidence of its existence.

as he does, and your frantic state comes back down to normal, you come to the shuddering realization of what's happening—matthew, the man you haven't since since your impromptu sleepover, is standing in your bathroom—all while you cry and stand naked under a robe.

he flushes the paper down your toilet, the hallow flush echoing through your ears. matthew turns back to you, sending you a closed mouth, awkward smile.

you hate this—this isn't the matthew you know. you hadn’t realized how much you missed his annoying remarks and infuriating smirk until you no longer had them. you're panicking again, expect this time it's because you don't want him to leave and you never see him again.

you clear your throat, stepping in his path. "I haven't seen you."

his brows pull tightly, eyeing you up and down curiously. "what do you mean?"

"you've been avoiding me." you huff, nerves settling low in your belly. you’re not even worried about how desperate you sound, and you play with the string of your robe with nervous, trembling hands.

"only because you've been avoiding me." he retorts firmly.

"what?" you breathe roughly—exasperated. even though you so badly want to say that you haven't, it would be a lie. you have been avoiding him, and clearly he's caught onto the fact. so you decide to play coy, and somewhat petty, crossing your arms. "i'm literally with you right now."

matthew snickers. "not by choice."

"and since when have I ever spent time with you by choice?" you question lightly.

matthew's almost playful expression falters, and a more serious look blossoms over his features. he swallows gently, adam’s apple bobbing prominently. "since you've never decided to walk away."

your mouth opens, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. you blink once, and then again, feeling nothing less than speechless from matthew's words.

his eyes dart over your face, taking in your seemingly surprised reaction. he too blinks roughly, shaking his head slightly as if he didn't mean to say that aloud. matthew clears his throat once, "i'm sorry for being all weird these past couple weeks," he pauses, eyes finding yours, "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

you frown. "you didn't." a gentle, shaky laugh leaves you, "if I'm remembering correctly, I begged you to stay."

his lips quirk upwards in a smile, "more like pleaded."

"okay!" you laugh in amused disbelief, covering your eyes with a still shaking hand. "don't remind me."

"but you see, this reaction is going to make me remind you at every possible opportunity." matthew teases, reaching towards you until his fingers gently brush yours, moving your hand away from your blushing face.

your eyes flicker back to his, smile falling as you blink up at him. you gulp gently, feeling your stomach swoop with a combination of emotions—nerves, confusion, fear, denial...need.

matthew's eyes slowly trace over you face, lingering on your damp lips before reluctantly tearing his gaze away. but he can't help but to drink you in further, admiring your exposed neck and collarbones—the fuzzy peach housecoat and the crazy hair—the silver initial necklace hanging around you, dangling above your sternum like the perfect accessory. it's all so new and so you.

your gazes meet again, and this time you sigh, a breathy noise that shoots right through matthew.

you blink, and without knowing what to do, you look away, back towards the shower. "how do you know there's no more spiders?" you question timidly, an awkward, unsure laugh following.

matthew holds onto his sigh, turning back to the bathtub. he puts his hands on his hips, stepping closer. "hello? anybody here?" he directs into the shower, looking around the porcelain white walls comically.

you smile fondly just as he looks back to you. "no more spiders."

something is seriously changing between you and matthew, and that makes you feel even more anxious than before. as you finally shower—speedily because you're still scared of the possibility of more creatures—and get ready for lunch, you can't help but wonder.

the what ifs and possibilities all involving your boyfriends roommate are very prevalent in your head, even as you begin to walk to a local campus cafe. as soon as you sit down, you're spilling your guts to cora.

no, you think, you can't like matthew because it's wrong—it's crazy. you're in a relationship, and a few months ago you hated him...at least, you thought you hated him.

and as you expressed it all to your friend, she listened with nothing but love and understanding. when you eventually stop your panicked ramble, cora sighs, looking at you like she just knows.

in that moment you know—the eyes never lie.

STAGE 5: Breaking

you scan the page of your textbook carefully, reading the history material in the hopes of applying it to your research assignment—but your mind is in a million other places.

since you've come to the realization 3 days ago that you have some sort of feelings for matthew, you haven't stopped thinking about him. you're still not sure what it is exactly you feel, so in all honesty you don't feel guilty about it—at least, not yet.

you blink, focusing your eyes as you attempt at reading the same paragraph again. the library is thankfully empty, meaning there's nobody to provide any type of distraction—the last thing you need is another distraction.

well, you're not completely alone, lucas is sitting across from you, typing away on his laptop as he attempts at starting his assignment that was due tomorrow. god, just thinking about that stresses you out. his legs stretch out underneath the table, invading your space, as well as his things spread across the tabletop—providing little to no breathing room.

all day there's been a lingering, awkward energy between you and lucas. he's been unusually quiet, and anytime he did talk to you it was quick and uninterested. unfortunately you've been too busy within your own head to notice the sharp glances he's been sending you, and the way his lips pull into a frown anytime you'd make a sigh of frustration or worry.

it was constant—and lucas was at his breaking point. as you have to restart the scentence again, a tiny huff leaving your lips, he shuts his laptop, the heavy click echoing throughout the library.

you look up quickly, brows pulled together as you eye him. "you okay?"

he huffs in disbelief, "your mind is like somewhere else recently—it feels like you're just a host of a body. it's like you don't even want to be with me." lucas tone is dripping with frustration, sounding nothing less then condescending and irritated.

you blink quickly, taken back from his sudden outburst. slowly, you put down the pen you'd been using to follow along with the words, eyeing lucas with a confusing tilt. is he joking? the last person who should be complaining about anything like this is lucas.

his face stays stern—looking at you like he's just watched you kill his dog. he's not joking.

you scoff quietly, but the disgusted tone is more than prevalent. "seriously? that's rich coming from you lucas. it feels like you haven't wanted to spend time with me for the past three months."

"that's not true." he retorts quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"is it not?" you question sarcastically.

"no!" lucas practically shouts, leaning on the table as he eyes you wildly. "you sound stupid right now."

the remark that you had dies on your tongue, mouth snapping shut. your jaw clicks as it tightens, anger coursing through you at lucas' insult. "how come you didn't take me home at that party a few weeks ago?" you question softly, a knowing look in your pointed gaze.

he wasn't expecting that, and it has him flattering slightly, leaning back as he blinks two quick times. lucas runs a hand through his unruly, light hair, tugging at the root in frustration—trying to think of answer.

"I don't know...fucking seemed like matthew had it under control." he swallows, pausing for a moment. "why does it matter?"

his admission give you confirmation you hadn't realized you'd been looking for. you laugh in disbelief, "yeah, well it seems like matthew is the only one who cares about me."

it was a low blow, one that has lucas' anger rising rapidly—but it was your truth, and you know that now.

"yeah too fucking much." he snarls.

"sorry that he cares about me—unlike you."

lucas jaw tightens, eyeing your face with a look you've never seen before. "we need to break up."

you look at him with disbelief and disappointment, your lip beginning to quiver. "so you're not even going to deny it? not even going to try and fight for me?"

this conversation has taken a turning point you weren't expecting—at least not today. there's nothing but anger between you, but yet you're not upset about being broken with. you're upset because you feel stupid, and everything you've feared about your relationship is true. lucas may love you, but he doesn't care about you.

his eyes flicker with something unknown, and he sighs, "I don't think you want me to."

you close your textbook and shove it into your bag, pushing off the table as you hastily get to your feet. "you're a dick." you don't wait for his response, leaving the library with your heart in your hands.

you push open the grand doors, and immediately you're enveloped in rain. you curse, tightening the hold on your book bag as you begin speed walking in the direction of your apartment. it seems that the rain only gets harder as you go, pelting against your skin like mini bullets and completely soaking you.

it's the cherry on top of everything, and you can't wait to get home, strip completely naked and cry in bed.

the sigh of relief is loud as you finally get back to the apartment building, walking into the lobby like a wet dog. you make a b-line to the elevators, not making your usual stop in the mail room—something that was habit anytime you'd come home.

you wring your hair out between your hands, the water hitting the elevator carpet with a small plopping noise. thankfully, it doesn't stop and you make it up to your door without any interruptions.

you sniffle away the emotion creeping up your chest, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. you only make it a few steps before a door is opening, distracting you.

it's lucas and matthew's apartment, and our steps the latter, gym bag slung over his shoulder. you come to a slow stop without meaning to, looking at him with a soft, yet curious gaze.

his eyes dart to you, but as soon as he sees the state your in he's moving, stepping closer to you with a worried expression. "woah...you okay?"

just the caring tone of his question has you welling up with tears, and it feels like everything is crashing down on you all at once. the confusion, the anger, the heartbreak, the lust, the curiosity...it's all there, drowning you.

you shake your head, mouth opening and closing unsurely. "I-I don't...i'm so." your voice is shaking, and you're borderline hyperventilating as you attempt at getting a coherent sentence out.

matthew lets his gym bag slip off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a hard thud. he takes ahold of your biceps, squeezing the fleshiest part firmly. "take a fucking breath, y/n, you're gunna make yourself sick."

closing your eyes, you take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down from the sudden emotional attack set upon yourself. it takes a minute, but eventually you feel yourself begin to relax, your heart rate slowly creeping back down.

you let your eyes flutter back open, meeting the concerned ones of matthew. your brows pull tightly, a nervous gulp following. "why are you looking at me like that, matthew?" your question is barley above a whisper, as if you were almost scared of the response.

"like what?" he breathes, not once breaking eye contact.

it's almost intimidating, but it's also confirming of so many things. but of course, you're hesitant—heck you're scared and nervous and so unsure about what's going on between you. your brows are still drawn together, creating a tiny indent in the middle of your forehead.

matthew has to fight every urge in his body to not run his thumb over the indent to smooth it out.

"like...like you fucking care about me. like you want me." you answer firmly, eyes frantically moving around matthew's face as you attempt at gauging his reaction.

he doesn't release the hold on your biceps, his gaze turning completely soft. "y/n." he says your name knowingly, fingers gently running up your arms. that’s his answer.

"matthew." you exhale shakily, distracted by the gentle pressure of his fingers on your skin. "you're making me all..."

"all...what?"

"confused." you say honestly, looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he's seen.

matthew swallows roughly, jerking his hands off your body like you just told him that's he's burning you. "i'm sorry"

the soft, hopeful look on his face doesn't falter, and if anything it increases. "no," you shake your head, "stop."

"what? stop apologizing?" he questions with a frown.

"no," you repeat, "stop looking at me like that."

a moment passes before he speaks again, his words laced with desire— stressing his words. "I can't."

another beat of silence, nothing but the hitching breath of both and you matthew to be heard. you lick onto your bottom lip, "lucas and I...we broke up."

"you did?"

you only get one nod out before matthew rushes forward, grasping your face like he's been waiting for the opportunity since he was put onto the earth. you tilt your head back instinctively, and it's just timed as matthew leans down to kiss you.

the kiss is instantly desperate, the clashing of lips and teeth alluding to so. your tongues glide across each others like second nature, elevating the kiss to a higher, more intense level. it's exhilarating—it's right.

you sigh into his mouth, trembling hands reaching up and grabbing onto matthew's wrists—keeping him against you. you've completely forgotten that you're soaked from head to toe, and how you've just had a fight with lucas that lead to a break up...it's all lost in matthew.

his hands slide farther back, fingers intertwining with your wet strands of hair. it's a gentle and welcoming pull, and you can't help but sigh in pleasure.

matthew follows suit, groaning into your messy kiss. it's been months and months of tip-toeing around one another, too scared to admit the truth in fear of ruining everything and everyone else along the way. but now it's just you two, and matthew can't help but moan at the thought.

the elevator doors slide open, and you’re both pulling apart instinctively at the sound.

but as lucas stands there, jaw ticking with anger as he stares at you—you know it's too late, and he's just seen you making out with his friend. or better yet, he's seen his friend making out with his newley ex-girlfriend.

"are you two fucking serious?"

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. it looks bad, you know it it does—mostly because it is bad. you've been thinking about matthew for much longer than you care to admit, and the first thing you did after getting broken up with is run into his arms—letting matthew kiss you like you're both horny teenagers.

"lucas..." matthew trails off, turning to his roommate with a guilty laced hesitation.

but lucas is only looking at you, that same disgusted smirk on his face from the library. "can't even remember the last time you kissed me, but yet the first thing you did after leaving the library was make out with my roommate. I didn't realize you were such a slut."

you inhale sharply, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

matthew rushes forward, and before he can logically think of the consequences of his actions, he punches lucas square across the face.

"matthew!" you gasp, moving towards the two men with concern pulling at your face. "no."

he doesn't hear you, looking at lucas as he clutches his jaw. matthew's gaze narrows, shaking out his hand. "don't fucking talk to her like that."

your ex-boyfriend laughs in a mixture of shock and disbelief, stretching his jaw out before he looks back at you. lucas doesn't say anything else, turning and leaving down the buildings stair well.

you're shocked, embarrassed and guilt ridden—your watery gaze locked on the empty space lucas was only moments ago occupying.

"y/n?" matthew questions gently, snapping you out of your own head.

you blink hard, shaking your head. "i'm sorry, I just need some space." you turn away from matthew before he has the chance to answer—mostly because you're too scared that if he begins to speak you'll crawl right back into his arms.

matthew watches you walk away, and all he can do is stand there, focused on your fleeting figure as he slip into your apartment—your lip trembling without another glance in his direction.

his face is contorted, not in anger, but in a look of concern. guilt flashes across his features, and he can't help but groan, running a palm over his face in frustration. did he just loose you for good?

you shut the apartment door behind you, and the tears begin falling down your face at a rapid pace. your lips tug into a frown, a sob wracking through you as you lean back against the door.

cora rounds the corner at the sound, her eyebrows pulled in concern. "what's wrong?" she breathes, rushing towards you.

"I did something terrible." you admit through your stuttering gasps, looking at your roommate with a million different emotions.

"honey..." she coos, wrapping you in a hug. your tears intensify as cora squeezes you in the embrace, and you bury your face in her shoulder to mask your desperate cry.

Epilogue

“god miller! just kiss me already!”

“no, not like this!”

you groan, falling into the couch cushions. the scene on the tv illuminates the room, the late afternoon sun hidden behind the blackout curtains you’ve had drawn since this morning.

nick and jess from new girl have not only been giving you entertainment all day while you mope around, but they’ve also been stupid cute and in love—it makes you want to die.

you’ve only been two places since the chaotic ending to last night; your bed which you cried in all night, and the couch which obviously you also cried on. you keep running through the events of yesterday—the breakup with lucas, finding matthew in the hallway, borderline confessing your feelings to him…kissing him. it felt good—so so good.

but just like that it was snatched from you, and the guilt riddling your body is just nerve wracking and wrenching. while you were kissing matthew, the last thing you were thinking about was lucas, and the possibility of him finding you both like that wasn’t even in your mind. but it happened and now everything feels like a mess—and you feel like an awful person.

you’ve clearly hurt lucas—that much was evident in the awful things he said to you. when you told cora everything last night, eyes stinging with tears and snot dribbling from your nose, she was quick to remind you that lucas never treated you good, and that no matter what he shouldn’t of said that to you.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, making you sit up—brows furrowed in question.

lucas

are you home?

you pause the tv quickly, all while reading the text over and over again as you try and make sense of it. what does he need? does he want to talk? is he going to yell at you? is he simply just curious? does he want to fix your relationship?

you hold your breath as you shakily type your reply.

y/n

yea

you exhale as it goes through, and in habit you bring your thumb to your lips, nerves consuming you as you begin gnawing on the skin around your nail.

your phone buzzes with an incoming message again.

lucas

can I come talk?

you swallow, sitting up straighter as you read his message. this can’t be good, you think—you’ve done nothing positive in the last twenty four hours that warrants a civil talk with your ex. you desperately want to ignore him—throw your phone across the room and get back to new girl on the tv.

a show that you only started watching because it’s matthew favourite—your brain reminds you. you look down at your phone again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you contemplate.

you deserve not only closure, but happiness—not matter what.

y/n

sure

you barley have a minute of speed running the apartment, picking up the empty tub of ice cream and what feels like hundreds on snotty tissues from your crying, before there’s a knock at your door.

even if you didn’t know he was coming over, would could tell it was lucas by the weight of the knock. it was soft, almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually be at your door. it always sounded like that.

before you back out, you pull open the door, revealing yourself to a deadpanned face lucas who’s standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. he gulps, eyeing your figure briefly. “can I come in.”

you nod reluctantly, stepping to the side to create enough room for him to slip inside your apartment. lucas sends you a forced smile as he enters, moving through your place like he’s done many times before.

the door shuts with a gentle click, but the room is so tense and quiet it sounds like a bomb. you follow suit, walking into the living room where lucas stands stagnant—eyeing around the apartment with an unsure expression. suddenly his eyes meet yours, “did you cheat on me?”

“no.” you tell him. “I would never cheat…on anybody.”

he sniffs, the sound annoying and disgusting—it’s like he’s trying to stay calm. “but you like him, right? you like matthew?”

you’re so used to trying to please him that you want to stay quiet—because you know if you admit your feelings for his friend, everything is going to completely change…more than it already has. and as lucas looks at you now, his gaze nothing but knowing, you decide you’re done trying to hide from him.

“I do.” you confirm. “but nothing ever happens, and…I didn’t even know when these feelings started. i’ve been so confused for the longest time, and I was scared because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” you pause, wringing out your trembling fingers as you collect your next thoughts. “but i’m sick of doing things for everyone else…and I need to let myself be happy—whatever that ends up being.”

lucas stay silent for a moment, but you can see his mind running a mile a minute. his eyes dart all over you, analyzing your face and body language—you’ve never seen him look at you so intently, and it has you wanting to shy away.

he sighs, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m sorry, y/n—for everything.”

your shoulders deflate, and you feel the emotion you’ve been suppressing since lucas texted you coming back to the surface. “thank you. i’m sorry too.”

“can I give you a hug?” his hesitance is evident, looking at you like he’s unsure of your response—how you’ll react. looking at him right now, you can’t be mad at him. not about your relationship, the breakup or the name he called you in his rage. lucas is a good guy, you know that—he’s just not the guy for you.

“yeah.” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

lucas takes the three steps of distance between you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he brings you into his chest. your hands find place around his waist, holding him against you in a wordless goodbye. his cheek rests on the top of your head, a comforting gesture that has your eyes flickering shut.

he takes a deep breath—his words quiet as he speaks. “I think we met for a reason, y/n. and that reason is matthew.” you feel lucas swallow against you, like he knows what he just said is the final nail in the coffin—everything starts now. “have you noticed how he looks at you?”

you pull back, and watch as the corner of his lips begin to turn upwards—the faintest smile growing. lucas may not like it, but he’s accepted it, and it’s feels better than anything you could imagine. your own smile begins to show, and you nod. “I have.”

matthew knies was an enigma—a giant, infuriating mystery that you never expected to entangle yourself in. but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the past few months, it’s that you’re easily intrigued, especially when the enigma has always cared for you, no matter how rude and stupid you acted towards him.

perhaps you never hated matthew, but rather the way he made you feel. you hated the idea of being in love with him because you had a boyfriend, so you'd turn into an easily irritated girl, who secretly wanted nothing more then the attention of the boy down the hall. the boy who was more of a boyfriend than lucas could ever be. the boy who you don't hate, but love.

of course, there’s still the lingering feelings of confusion and nervousness—because you don’t know where you and matthew will go from here.

but later in the day, on you way back from your evening class, as the elevator doors open to your floor and matthew stands there—a grin growing on both your faces at the mere sight of one another…you think you have an answer.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

playlist

every breath you take (i'll be watching you) by the police

pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine

wrong by zayn

your needs, my needs by noah kahan

do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

each time you fall in love by cigarettes after sex

if I can't be with you by olivia obrien

I would by one direction

[littjara-mirrorlake]

The Color of Hope: Ambition, Necromancy, and Black Mana

Black is one of the most misunderstood colors in Magic: the Gathering, not least because it appears on the surface to be so straightforward. Look at the most iconic black cards of Magic and you'll see deals with demons, necromancy, mass destruction and cruelty and suffering–the trappings of classic fantasy evil. Even the color's symbol itself is a skull, a universal signifier of death and danger.

And in early Magic that seemed to be all it was. White was the color of Fantasy Good, black was the color of Fantasy Evil, and the rest of the colors were... fire magic? Elves? Whatever odd but intriguing skeleton affairs are implied by Time Walk?

Gradually, though, Magic deepened as both a game and a storytelling medium. The color pie grew into itself as a system of complementary philosophies, archetypes whose associated aesthetics were only part of the full picture. Their arrangement around the wheel, below, is highly deliberate; neighboring colors are said to be allies with a high degree of philosophical and mechanical overlap, while colors on opposite sides of the pie are known as enemies, more likely to disagree on fundamental levels.

Black stopped merely representing capital E Evil and became the color of striving for power; unlike its peers, black felt that nothing, least of all morality, could prevent it from seizing what it wanted. Mark Rosewater's 2015 article about black emphasized the color's focus on the self:

"Black's philosophy is very simple: There's no one better suited to look after your own interests than you... Many costs require the sacrifice of others for your own advancement. Because it puts itself first, black is always willing to make this trade. The weak must fall for the strong to thrive." -Mark Rosewater

At its worst, black is an exploitative, amoral color that prioritizes itself at the expense of all others, allowing the "weak" to fall and scorning the very idea of compassion. Rosewater writes that black is "always willing" to trade others for itself. And these can certainly be parts of black's philosophy, when taken to its worst possible extremes, but they're far from the entire story.

Over time, Magic's outlook on black gained nuance. Magic story introduced protagonists like the necromancer Liliana Vess, whose craving for immortality, seemingly exploitative nature, and demonic deals called back to the oldest portrayals of black–and yet she was not one-dimensionally evil. She underwent character development over the years, learning the value of reclaiming herself and standing beside others, and at no point did she become any less mono-black for it. Remember her; we will come back to Liliana and her story later.

In addition to the usual death and decay, black cards began to feature a theme of relentless devotion. On the plane of Eldraine where each color represents a virtue, black's is persistence, explicitly as important as any other color. On the plane of Ikoria, the love between bonder and beast pulls Winota back from the brink of death. Wherever this Oathsworn Vampire printing is set, its flavor text is quintessentially black. It's the same self-driven attitude as before, but cast in a different light: black is nothing if not persistent when it's got its heart set on something (or someone) it cares about. Nothing, least of all the grave, will keep it down. After all, black will always come back for its own.

These newer cards uncovered the true face of black as a color capable of both great love and harm (sometimes even the latter for the sake of the former), and suggested a tantalizing new thread: perhaps putting yourself and yours first isn't all that bad, necessarily. Black is a deeply protective color; it says you don't just have to accept what you're handed, it's okay even to be furious about it (hello, ally color red), but let that galvanize you to do something about it. 

Vraska, a gorgon who faces extreme discrimination on her home plane of Ravnica, triumphs by reclaiming herself, gorgon powers and all–and even more radically, loving herself. She displays traits often considered the purview of white and green, such as a love of home and a drive to elevate the oppressed, but they are all filtered through the lens of her black alignment. Vraska staunchly refuses to deny herself or her people, the Golgari Swarm, of their value. Nor does she allow law or propriety to prevent her from championing them by any means necessary–even if that means cold-blooded murder, or aligning herself with a villain like the Planeswalker Nicol Bolas.

"[Vraska] thought of Mazirek, of the kraul, of the rest of the Ochran assassins and the malignant Jarad who reigned with casual ruin over the most downtrodden of the downtrodden. She remembered her years of isolation, and the heinous cruelty of the Azorius, and how no group deserved to suffer as much as those who would subjugate her own. Eliminating that hell was all she ever wanted." -The Talented Captain Vraska, Alison Luhrs

Like Vraska, black loves fierce and hard, willing to break any taboo for the sake of those it cares about. And it whispers, the entire way through, you are enough. You deserve better. No matter what others may say or do, you are enough.

"If I am to be met with disrespect, then I must first love myself with a fierceness no fool can take away." -Vraska in Pride of the Kraul, Alison Luhrs

Even black's "ruthlessness" isn't as fundamentally cruel as it appears, centering a passion for problem-solving (shared by its other ally blue) instead of a blunt disregard for others.

"People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think it means 'mean.' It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it." -K. A. Applegate

All of this comes together to make a black a color not of evil but of strength, integrity, and persistence. And that's all well and good, but I'm going to take it even further and put forward a new proposition: that black is the color of hope.

Of the nine mono-black Magic cards with "hope" in their names, all but Liliana portray black as an instrument of hope's destruction. This is, once again, black's flaw taken to its extreme–crushing others to achieve its own ends–but neglects black's own relationship with hope.

Black, more than any other color, requires hope to stay alive.

For black to persist, it must believe in a light at the end of the tunnel, a future in which its goals are realized. As long as it does, it will endure any hardship, walk through fire, and turn reality itself upside down on its way there. Primal, desperate ambition is the engine of hope that burns at the heart of black, keeping it always one step ahead of stagnation. Bitter and stubborn, black believes tomorrow will come because there is no other choice. After all, for black to relinquish hope is to let itself wither, regress, and die–an unacceptable outcome. 

Thus, it is monumentally difficult to strip black of hope. That only makes it all the more crushing when it happens, when black contends with the idea that there is nothing it can do.

Black's deepest, darkest fear is helplessness.

Like any mono-black character, Liliana Vess is driven at her core by a seething, desperate hope. When Liliana first unlocks her necromantic power, it is out of a sheer refusal to allow her ill brother Josu to die, even when the esis root that would cure him is destroyed by enemy witches in an undead-raising ritual. She defies her previous training as a healer, which taught her only to take the safe path, in favor of a higher-risk and higher-reward approach: stealing life from the witches themselves to restore power to the esis root she needs. It is her knowledge that her brother needs her, and her sheer stubborn will to succeed, which allows her to defeat the witches against steep odds.

"Six foes, and Liliana stood alone. But Josu's life depended on her, and the power blossoming within her was more than enough." -Liliana's Origin: The Fourth Pact, James Wyatt

Tragically, however, Liliana's attempted cure goes horrifically wrong, transforming Josu into an undead being plagued by eternal suffering. In his pain, Josu attacks Liliana. For a while Liliana holds out hope, finding the power to fight back while she determinedly searches for a spell to reverse the harm she's done. It is when she realizes this isn't possible that her strength falters.

"All this time, she had believed… that she could turn the power of death to the service of life and health. That a healer should use every tool at her disposal. But Josu was the result, a horrible fusion of life and death, and all her spells meant to manipulate the life force of the living could do nothing to harm the dead." -The Fourth Pact

Liliana learns that even her own dark magic, fueled by determination, cannot solve the problem she's created. She discovers the hard limit of her willpower, and the despair of this discovery is what causes her Planeswalker spark to ignite.

At this time Planeswalkers are as gods, immortal and near-omnipotent. Liliana spends decades enjoying this affirmation of her capability before the Mending strips her and all her peers of their power, reducing them once again to mortal mages.

"Then the Multiverse reshaped itself, robbing her—and every other Planeswalker—of the godlike power they once had wielded. Some called it the Mending, as if something broken had been repaired, but to Liliana, it seemed the opposite. It broke her beyond any hope of repair." -The Fourth Pact

Once again, it is Liliana's fear of helplessness and her refusal to accept it that drives her to push beyond the bounds of propriety–this time, to make a pact with Nicol Bolas and four demons to maintain her immortality. It is not enough for her merely to delay death; she requires the security of knowing she is fully beyond its reach, that she will never be helpless before it again as she was with Josu.

"Holding death at arm's length for whatever years are left to me? No, that's not enough. I want to be free of its shadow." -Liliana in The Fourth Pact

Black isn't like its enemy colors white and green, which are superficially associated far more often with hope. Unlike white, it doesn't believe that conviction, justice, and community will bring about rightness. Unlike green, it doesn't trust in the wisdom of the world or the natural order. Black believes that nothing will change unless you make it change; ultimately, black's self is the only one it can trust to bring about the world it needs. In addition, black lacks its enemies' idealism. Instead, it strives to be a pragmatic realist, making a final assessment of defeat all the more definite and crushing.

While white and green are more amenable to finding hope and holding it aloft as a banner, black claws hope desperately to its chest with shredded, bloody fingernails. Every ounce of hope black has, it tore by itself from the clutches of an uncaring world.

Ironically for such a self-driven color, black's fierce hope is the greatest asset it can provide to others–on its own terms, of course. It was Liliana who turned the tide of battle against the Eldrazi titan Emrakul, defiant in the face of cosmic despair. And when Nicol Bolas made his bid to return to godhood, using Liliana's necromancy to command his undead hordes, Liliana finally turned against him. In reclaiming her power, so too did she use it to free her fellow Planeswalkers from Bolas' assault. Her fear of helplessness no longer shackled her to him; agency and autonomy were hers at last.

The triumph of black, its moment of ultimate victory, is the hard-won fulfillment of its hope.

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." -Dylan Thomas

An aetherborn, railing against the shortness of their natural lifespan, constructs a new body for themself with their own bare hands. An artificer's grief over her lost companion causes her to push invention to its limits. A young girl who loves her brother calls on the darkest of powers to save him. As it turns out, necromancy–that original thematic keystone of black–is only one of black's many, many refusals to let go of love and hope once it has them, even in the face of the ultimate end.

Time and time again, black–in love with life, ablaze with hope–looks the Grim Reaper in the eye and tells it: "Not today."

[idksomething327]

How to vomit safely

Here, I'm going to talk about how to vomit safely, a simple list of advice that I wish I had a long while ago. Even if you don't need this, please reblog, as I want more people to be educated on this. If I missed anything, got anything wrong, or you have any questions, please do dm, comment, ask, whatever.

One of the most important things- Space out your vomiting, let your body take a break! Don't throw up too often, it's terrible for you. It doesn't make it okay that you're doing it for pleasure instead of an eating disorder. It doesn't make it okay that you don't feel it hurting you. It doesn't make it okay that you're doing it as safe as possible. Those were some things I told myself when I was somewhat addicted to puking, but it still doesn't make it okay to do it often. Vomiting too frequently can result in tooth decay, weakening of the esophageal sphincter, acid reflux, and increased risk of cancer to name a few. My new years resolution was to make myself throw up less than once a month. Find something that works for you and lets your body rest.

Prep for vomiting. Wash your hands. Seriously. They will be going in your mouth. That's where you put food, so if there's anything on them you wouldn't be comfortable eating, wash them again. Eat a good sized meal so you have something to throw up, and know that if you do it in advance, the vomit will be a bit smoother and more digested. Immediately before vomiting, drink a lot of water to help it come up, and I mean like two or three average plastic bottles worth. Don't eat anything dark or red like pasta sauce or a smoothie before vomiting, as it's important to see if there's any blood in the vomit so you can stop before pushing yourself even more. Don't forget you can always drink more water while vomiting, so don't push yourself to get all those stubborn, painful chunks up at the end.

There are several methods to vomit, so I'll go through each. First is using your fingers. Start by washing your hands, as previously mentioned, and of course, position yourself over where you wish to vomit. Put one or two fingers in your mouth and gently massage the back of your throat. Don't do it as fast and hard as the people you see online if you're just starting out, get used to what makes you gag first, it's sensitive back there, after all. And watch out for your fingernails. Obviously, if you're touching yourself as you do this, wash your hands in between or use different hands.

Stuffing. I wouldn't recommend stuffing with food, at least not until you've gotten good at it, because it is harder to force up and you don't want to risk damage to the stomach. I would, however, suggest stuffing with water. Simply have a big meal, then drink cup after cup of water until you're nauseous and ready to burst, then let yourself vomit. One of the best ways to vomit naturally.

Homemade emetics. NEVER use homemade emetics. Some of the ones I see suggested online are salt water and baking soda water. The reasons these work to make you vomit is because your body's salt levels spike, leading you to vomit to force it out. It is important to note that your body will not vomit unless it considers the issue dangerous, and even if it does, it can't get all the salt out. This can leave you horribly dehydrated and, if bad enough, even hospitalized. Think of it this way, the vomit response is in place to get rid of anything poisonous, so don't eat poisonous things to try to vomit. There's also homemade emetics of gross things such as mustard water, and that may not be dangerous, but your puke will taste gross, so why would you even do that?

After vomiting, rinse your mouth with water. Don't brush your teeth, apparently it's not good for them. Drink water. You will be dehydrated after puking, even if you drank water before. If your appetite isn't gone, eat a snack or small meal. If you know in advance that you won't have an appetite, try to stop puking early to leave some food in your stomach.

Another option to vomit is store bought emetics. Being honest, I know nothing of store bought emetics or their safety, so instead, I'll talk about where to learn. Don't trust Google, that's the place that will tell you salt water is safe. Talk to your doctor. They will not judge you for your kink and will try their best to educate you (better than I can) and make it as safe as possible. But, I know, it can be difficult to talk to your doctor sometimes, so if you're nervous, find an online doctor instead, even a social media based one. A reputable one, as any professional doctor will educate instead of shaming. If that still isn't an option for you, you can send asks or dms to emeto blogs. Although they may not be professional, they may have information you need.

Anyway, I know this got long, but again, message me with anything. I want this to be the post I wish I had when I was starting.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Shoot for the Moon

Bo Sinclair X GN Reader

Warnings: None. Just fluff. Who am I?

~~

Keys jingle as you cut the engine. The thrum ceases and a moment of tranquil silence passes before the nighttime sounds rise to life all around. Crickets and frogs chirp, night herons splash, a barred owl calls. Cypress, oak, and maple trees creak and rustle in a gentle breeze. Car door hinges squeal as you slip from your vehicle and your boots swish in tall grasses as you make your way to the trunk.

Carefully, you unpack the telescope, flashlight, guides, and notepads. The scents of damp earth and decaying wood wash over you as you move. Already, the oppressive Louisiana humidity sticks your hair to your forehead, yet you wear a jacket and jeans to protect your limbs from mosquitos and ticks.

Satisfied with a small, nearby clearing, you meticulously set up your equipment. You peek through the eye piece and adjust the telescope’s position incrementally. Little flashlight clutched between your teeth, you scratch notes on the illuminated portion of paper before repeating the process.

An hour or so in, you abruptly surface from the lull of peaceful concentration. At first, you’re not certain what distracts you, but then you recognize the silence. All the wildlife has gone quiet, disturbed by something close by.

You frown and quiet your own breath, tilting your head to listen intently. To your left, a sharp snap; twigs underfoot. Something stalks through the brush, just out of sight.

A bear, maybe, or a stray dog. Your mind whirs with the possibilities, but you will yourself to stay calm. Nothing you can’t handle.

However, when a man emerges from the tree line, your heart stutters. Fear and confusion take root in your brain and you must consciously fight back the panic to keep your thoughts clear.

Where the hell had he come from? There isn’t a town or house around for miles, as far as you’re aware. You’d carefully chosen this particular spot for that very reason.

The man saunters toward you, hands buried in the pockets of the deep blue coveralls he wears. His pace is leisurely, every step measured and deliberate, meant to instill dread. You can’t make out the details of his face through the gloom and the cap perched atop his head does you no favors.

“Yer out here awfully late,” he notes, the pleasant drawl of his voice disturbing the hush of the clearing. He nods toward the crescent moon hanging low in the sky as though you need his help to tell it’s nighttime.

“Could say the same about you,” you respond, slipping the flashlight into your palm. You could blind him if he gets too close.

He stops his advance about twenty feet away, head tilting slightly as he studies you and your equipment. “Folks out this late don’t often have the best intentions.”

Pot, meet kettle. You resist the urge to call him out and instead motion to your telescope. “Just star gazing. I wasn’t aware this was private property. I’ll go—

“Nah, s’not private. Yer good, sugar.” He takes a few steps closer. The muscles in your shoulders tense. You swallow thickly, mind racing. What now?

You speak before you can stop yourself, “I, uh, I just found Saturn. It’s nice and clear tonight. Wanna see?” The man stops abruptly, obviously taken aback. He’s silent for a moment, contemplating.

“…Yer serious?” he questions. His steps are tentative now, cautious. You caught him off guard, it seems.

Roll with it. “Yeah!” You wave him over and allow the excitement to take control of your vocal cords, “And the Milky Way is so pretty right now. We can look at that next….”

He’s close enough now that you can make out the incredulous expression on his face…his very handsome face. The scents of engine oil, burnt grease, and metal hit you and the outfit suddenly makes sense. Still, you question why he’s out for a midnight stroll in such a remote area wearing his work garb.

You scoot out of the way and instruct him to look through the eye piece. He shoots you one more skeptical glance before carefully leaning over and peering into the telescope. You smell him now too: Cigarette smoke, faint aftershave, and woody musk that is not at all unpleasant.

You watch the exact moment the man spots the planet. What you can see of his face lights up and he shifts his body in toward the telescope, hunching more to get a better angle through the eyepiece. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmurs, hand coming up and hovering over the finderscope, hesitant to touch. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“So beautiful, right? Do you see the rings?”

“Sure do,” he replies, straightening and flashing you a hesitant, crooked smile. Your thoughts are almost derailed by the charm of it, but the eagerness to teach keeps you grounded.

“Here, scooch over a sec, lemme just readjust it….” You quickly check your notes then fiddle with the telescope. You’re overly aware of the man standing next to you, but he surprises you with polite silence, hands on his hips, apparently content to watch you work.

“Here, look,” you excitedly tell him as soon as it’s adjusted. With a quizzical expression, he leans down again, though there’s more enthusiasm in his movement this time.

“…What am I lookin’ at?” he asks, glancing over at you expectantly.

You giggle and mutter a quick, “Oh right,” before launching into an explanation. You gesture and describe, the animation in your voice and knowledge on the subject captivating the stranger.

He watches you speak with a mixture of admiration and bemusement on his face, like he can’t believe he’s listening so attentively, but doesn’t want to miss a word. All previous tension evaporates as you show him the charts you’ve drawn and move the telescope to and fro.

“Oh, and you should be able to see Phobos right now—

“What’s yer name, darlin’?” the man interrupts suddenly. You glance up at him and realize just how close he stands. Your shoulder brushes his chest, his body heat palpable. You’re glad for the darkness when your cheeks burn.

You do your best not to trip over your own name when he smirks, sudden shyness drying your throat and making your heart skip a beat. There’s irritation there too, annoyance with his smugness. You’re easier to read than you’d hoped, apparently.

“Bo,” he tells you as he holds out his hand. You turn to face him and accept his outstretched palm. It is then you notice your watch.

“Oh christ, it’s late. I really gotta go!”Hurriedly, you gather up your notes and pack away your equipment. Bo watches quietly and you can tell by the way he stands so stock still that he’s contemplating something.

You don’t give him a chance to decide on whatever it was he was planning when he entered the clearing.

“I, uh…I was gonna come back on Thursday if, you know, if you wanted to learn more.” Bo blinks at you, genuine surprise on his face. You’re just as shocked by your own words. Offering to meet a strange man with questionable intentions, alone, in the middle of rural Louisiana to teach him amateur astronomy?

Have you lost your damn mind?

Yet, the way he’d engaged with the subject and how eagerly he listened makes you think there’s something more to this man. The initial trajectory of your meeting had changed, hadn’t it? There was a spark, a yearning for connection. He wants to learn, and you want to teach.

That, or you’re completely delusional.

“Next Thursday?” You nod at his question. He tips his head again, like he’s thinking. Slipping his hands back into his pockets, he shrugs. “I can try and make it.”

**

He does make it on Thursday. You do too. And again on Saturday. And the following Friday. And Monday.

Sunday finds you seated on a blanket, Bo at your side, flashlight in your mouth and pen in had. Around you, the nighttime creatures sing their songs. Your trusty telescope points to the sky, ready to capture the comet you’re tracking.

You’re relaxed in his presence now. You’ve decided to attribute your initial meeting to simple chance. He hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him, and you’re not going to look for one.

Your name murmured in a hushed and careful tone breaks your reverie. You hum in response before lowering the flashlight and glancing up. The look in Bo’s baby blues freezes you in place and brings heat to your cheeks.

He’s closer than you anticipated. He removed his hat at some point and his dark hair is ruffled like he hastily ran his fingers through it. That self-satisfied smirk you tell yourself you hate pulls at the side of his mouth and there’s warmth in his eyes as they trace the curve of your lips.

“Been tryin’ t’kiss ya for the past ten minutes,” he teases, his hand reaching out to playfully flick the pen in your hand. You release a breathy laugh as your heart flutters in your chest like a trapped bird.

“Oh, um…s-sorry,” is all you can manage, mouth curving in a weak smile. Your teeth worry your bottom lip when Bo slides closer to cradle your face in his palms.

“Looks like I finally get t’teach ya somethin’ huh?” he jokes, lips ghosting across yours.

You huff, “Oh shut up,” but there’s no real bite to your words. Bo chuckles affectionately and smoothes his thumbs over your hair.

His next words are soft, the vulnerability in them meant only for your ears. “You been real sweet, darlin’. Ain’t nobody taught me anythin’ like you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, moved by his admission. The gratitude in it warms you deep in your chest. Bo wrinkles his nose.

“Alright, enough a’ that. Turnin’ me into a fuckin’ sap.” Your next scoff and eye roll is cut off when he finally claims your mouth in a searing kiss.

Overhead, stars twinkle, your silent spectators.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Reader dying in front of them (crp edition 2/3)

I think I might do this prompt with a few other fandoms I write for but I can't promise which ones I'll do 💔

Characters: laughing jack, eyeless jack, nina the killer

Notes: reader was gn, non specific and specific scenarios depending on the character, short post, no happy endings, accidental murders on their parts

CWs: wounds and death, eyeless jack eats you during one of his blind frenzies, mentions of decomposition

LAUGHING JACK

the odds of him accidentally hurting you are not zero. as are the odds of him accidentally breaking your body. not only is he large, but hes also strong. and he tends to forget how fragile humans can be in the worst of times... so when hes playing around with you and you suddenly let out a broken gasp during it... he doesnt immediately stop- after all you both play rough all the time so why would this be any different...?

he thinks youre pulling his leg when you cant get up or when you wince and whine in pain when he tries to pull you to your feet. amusement turns into concern, and concern turns into fear and dread... and then to anger- anger at... you... himself... everything. youre dying and youre going to leave him behind- alone again

he... as morbid as it is he keeps your body even as it rots and decays

EYELESS JACK

its a blood bath. by the time he comes to your body is already broken- by his own hand (and jaw) no less- he had tried to get you to go off somewhere until he had satisfied his hunger but one thing turned into another... and before either of you knew it his mind blanked out and...

hes not sure if you being just barely alive when he comes to would be better or worse. hes not sure he would be able to see the terror and pain in your eyes when you still had life mingling with it. and god... there is so much guilt, that hes going to carry with him for the rest of his life

he feels he should have tried harder to deter you from pursuing him- denied you when you made your advances to enter his life and become his companion- and lover- he feels... he... never forgives himself and completely isolates himself going forward. one cannot get attached if they dont let it happen. hes learned his lesson

NINA THE KILLER

its so bold of you to assume shes not going to immediately tear down and destroy whoever roughed you up in the first place. shes not going to stop until theyre dead--- though.. this... leaves you to watch her fight while your body gives out on you.. assuming your killer doesnt somehow make an escape and live for another day... for now

in that case shes right at your side and trying to stop your wounds from bleeding you dry. pressing her hands to the openings- which only serve to make them bleed faster, perhaps even accidentally digging herself into the mess- its... rough. its not a good time for either of you

shes not afraid to show her despair and desperation right in front of you as the light leaves your eyes. she wants nothing more than to put on a smile and pretend that youre going to make it through this... but shes not dumb enough to give the two of you false hope

[dr-demi-bee]

Day 24--------------------Read on AO3--------------------------

Pairing: Rolan/Tav Prompt: Dude in distress A little angst a little comfort, idiots pining, poor communication, SFW

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

His torch was guttering in the eerie winds of the preternaturally still curse. Something, or some things howled and cried in the distance, echoing in the strange din. Everything smelled like rot and decay, wisps of shadow weave curled and tugged at the skin.

Rolan had known on some level it was a fool’s errand to try venturing out here alone. Exceptional wizard or no. And the Harpers in Last Light had warned him as much.

He’s been following the meandering patterns of this gods forsaken wasteland - finding the stable structures and roadways that lead to the heart of the ruins of Reithwin. In theory, that hulking shadow in the distance could be Moonrise.

Just as Rolan’s making to step onto a flimsy looking walkway there’s a screech behind him. Too close. And then another. More. His torchlight sputters and Rolan’s spinning on his heel, pulling at threads of weave with his freehand.

Magic missiles knock them backwards but they don’t stop advancing. Ignis and they only fall back slightly.

He is well and truly doomed.

Rolan will die. Cal and Lia, if they aren’t already, will die with him.

“Gods damn it!”

An arrow whizzes by and pierces through the heart of one of the shadows, making it fizzle and wail. A moment later, a barrage of magic missiles obliterates another shadow. It's hard to hear over the din, but soon there's a raging inferno of a tiefling barreling past Rolan to cut down a shadow with her great axe.

And at last, a slight, hooded figure all in black, yet glowing with some unmistakable fey magic, skids to a halt directly in front of Rolan. Back turned to him, her blades are up and ready to defend.

Another shadow charges in and in a whirl of blades the small figure decimates the wraith until it vanishes into smoke. The flurry knocks her hood back, revealing a familiar face from the Grove.

Tav.

Tav who got him into this gods forsaken mess.

Tav who haunts his every free thought when he's not in danger. 

Damnit. Of all people! Now she's in danger because of his mistakes too.

“What in the hells are you doing?” Rolan shouts.

She and her companions decimate the remaining shadow-fiends. She's not alone - Karlach is here. And moments later they're joined by Gale and Astarion. All of them glowing that same effusive light - pixie magic.

Tav huffs a breath, pulling a mask down from over her mouth.

"Right this minute, I'm saving your ass," she replies, sounding a bit winded. Her brows draw low with concern. "What were you thinking, coming out here alone?"

“Gods damn it all!” Rolan growls out. His body practically vibrates with the impotent fury of his failures. “I can do nothing right - not a damn thing!”

“Please tell me you weren’t looking for Moonrise,” Tav returns, moving back to his side. Gods the look of concern on her face feels too much like pity. He hates it. When she adds another word it stings like a slap. “Alone.”

Why would you care!

“So what if I was!” Rolan bristles. “Cal and Lia could be there!”

“Even if they are, you plan on invading a fortress inhabited by a cult - ALONE!” Tav’s ire grows in tandem with his.

But what the hells does she have to be angry about? She’s not alone. She has her friends with her! All the resources she needs! No one she loves is in danger.

“Instead I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue.” His face twists as he considers it. Not only has he failed miserably at making it to moonrise to save his siblings - but now she’s in danger too.

“From you of all bloody people.” In his despair it sounds almost like a whine. No doubt it sounds as pathetic to her as it feels to him.

It must, given the way her expression curdles. He’s slighted her. Again. Good. Maybe if he pushes her away she’ll stop putting herself in danger to save him.

His own scathing words from earlier sour in his mouth. You go save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do. I’ll fix this. He’d been cruel to her - again - pushed her away in his grief. When she asked to help.

“What good am I if I can’t do this...this one thing?”

“Rolan...”

“I’ve failed Cal and Lia, again.”

And you, he thinks miserably. The look of pity in her eyes is enough he wants to drown himself in wine. He brushes off her concern with a forceful wave before she can say anything more to make him feel awful. Shame curdles in his stomach.

“Be on your way,” he huffs, turning his face away. “I’ll return to Last Light... I know when I’m outmatched.”

When he turns away, Tav’s hand around his wrist stops him before he can leave. It feels like those slender fingers are clenching around his heart instead. And the look on her face when he turns back to her makes his heart stutter. Normally snarky and boisterous, she’s...kind. Concerned. Caring. What the hells for?

“We’ll save them,” Tav murmurs softly. She means it. Of course she does. And maybe she’s their only hope.

But gods damn it, why does she have to be the one in danger? Again and again, no matter how weary she looks. She just grins and puts herself on the line. Idiot.

“Why does it have to be you?” It slips free in a low murmur as his eyes lift from where her hand clutches tight to his wrist back up to her face. To those impossible eyes.

And she shrugs. “Just lucky like that, I guess.”

Rolan scoffs and groans an exaggerated sound of frustration. This impossible woman. He knows it’ll be impossible to dissuade her. And secretly he can’t bear the thought of not letting her go - to have a chance at seeing his siblings again. Even as the thought of her in peril again fills him with icy dread.

“Just-” Rolan huffs, he can’t get the words free. They rail against his pride. When he finally manages it, the words are rushed and quiet. “Just come back safely.”

Tav huffs a soft laugh like she’s surprised to hear it. “What do you care?”

“You-!” Rolan’s hands clench into fists and he nearly hisses at her in his agitation, his tail whipping. “Just do it, you dolt!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll come back safe.” Now Tav giggles in earnest. “Not sure why you care.”

She lets go of his wrist and waves off his concern. Her lips quirk up in that infuriating half-smile of hers and her eyes sparkle with a warm mirth. But she doesn’t get it. He can tell. She doesn’t get a lick of why he’d care. That he does care.

And if anything, that pisses him off even more. Gods damnit!

"Zurgan-!” Rolan swears, crossing the distance between them. His stomach does a little flip when her expression changes to one of surprise. “Fine, I'll show you -"

Rolan grasps her by her shoulders and yanks her to him, crushing his lips to hers. He can’t say it in words, but maybe this wil at least show her something. And Rolan desperately needs her to understand.

So he kisses her. Kisses her until their both gasping for air.

And when they stare at one another, chests heaving, he can see it. There’s a glimmer in her eyes. She knows. Tav mirrors the concern and the anguish in Rolan’s expression as they pull away from one another.

“Get back to Last Light - stay there and stay safe,” she murmurs. “I’ll come back to you.”

@lanafofana @waterdeep-weavemoss @12thhouse-sun

@crimson-and-lavender @feedthepheasants @spooky-lil-bee

@femmefuck @heartfluttered

[hell-drabbles]

Lucifer and Ra-on 1

Summary: Often when something you crave is denied to you, you want it all the more. You told Ra-on to not bother Lucifer, to leave him be. But, surely he and Lucifer are friends now, right?

(Ya’ll don’t mind if I tweaked Lucifer just a bit so he can be used as a tool to further Ra-on’s mental decay do you? Also I saw Lucifer won’t be free for three months so I’m just gonna rip him out of Ra-on’s hands out of spite. I think it’s fair. Besides, I feel this version of Ra-on would actually grate on Lucifer's nerves with how he treats bonds he made in the human world.)

There was a loneliness to him, an almost ethereal beauty that was more grounded than Leviathan’s. It reminded Ra-on of perfectly bleached bones, made to bask in the sun for who knows how many millennia. Bones that Ra-on used to love grabbing as a kid before you came about and smack it out of his hands. Like it was something he shouldn’t hold. Something he shouldn’t look at it.

…Ra-on remembers pocketing these bones whenever you had your back turned. He never did anything with them. He just wanted to have them for the sake of having them. Because you didn’t want him to have it. And Ra-on ended up getting sick because of it, but that didn’t stop him from feeling that need to rebel.

“Don’t be a bother to him, Ra-on,” you told him one day, when Ra-on voiced his plan to do a surprise visit, to get him to open up, “if he wants to see you, he’ll see you. At least tell him in advance and if he rejects you, he rejects you.”

But, if it’s not a surprise, then what’s the point? Besides, isn’t it a good thing? That he’s finally getting out of his bubble to do something like this on his own?

You told him no. And what was Ra-on to do? Ra-on loves surprises. He loves getting them and he loves giving them. Minhyeok loves them too. Yes, yes, Ra-on didn’t have to, but spontaneous things are good to have in life, aren’t they?

“You care for the devils, in the same way you care for possession, don’t you?”

Ra-on was ripped right open. In that room, tugging at Lucifer’s clothes just to get a single stroke of those muscles he craves so much, this devil’s soft voice mercilessly cut into him.

“You are the key to ending this war. A key who’s greed seeks to consume everything under Hell, and even Heaven.” Ra-on let go, but Lucifer continued, “A key that ignores the voice of his life-long human friend, all for the sake of sinking deeper into sin. But such things don’t matter to me.” And just like that, Lucifer stood back up to his full height, basking in the moonlight. “You are the key after all. And, from what talks I’ve had with your friend, that greed of yours should be enough.”

Lucifer was a presence that took almost all of Ra-on will to stand. He always felt he was one twitch or one sneeze away from angering him and being sliced in two. He was cold, almost empty, lacking in expression but Ra-on knows he is full of compassion. Otherwise, why would the devils around him worship him so?

Every time Lucifer came into the same room as Ra-on, it almost felt no different than being in the same place as you. You both were always so intense, always deep in your own thoughts that Ra-on wanted nothing more than to tap into, if only to get to know you both more. And when that emotional well hidden deep within burst, it came out as a flood that always washed him away, leaving hurt, torn, and soaked to the bone.

“That’s, that’s not it!” Ra-on stepped back, gripping at his sleeves, “I’m not greedy! I cherish everyone here as they are! I’m sorry if I seem like that, and I’m sorry if my friend said anything offensive to you. They’re brash, I know but I promise they can change.”

How could he not, when they treat him so passionately? When they indulge in his every wish and command without even needing to say it? He knows that it’s weird and scary for you but if you just stop trying to control everything and leave them be–!

“…you seek to change your friend rather then leave them be. I see.”

In all the time he’s been in Hell, Ra-on’s words were always listened to, no matter how oddly they came out. But here, with this devil, with this ex-seraph that you’ve come to tolerate and even befriend, Ra-on’s words were tossed over Lucifer’s shoulder. Like they didn’t matter.

Ra-on isn’t blind to the disdain Lucifer shows him. All those first meetings, all those attempts to get to know him better, they always had this tinge of discomfort, like Ra-on was an annoying bug that he would swat as soon as he was too close. But, Lucifer wanted to keep meeting him. Even when all those conversations were just Ra-on attempting to make small talk, Lucifer kept wanting to meet him. So that has to mean something, right? That Lucifer’s disdain was just starting to fade.

Isn’t that why Lucifer called for him less and less often? To entice Ra-on to take steps of his own and visit of his own volition? Hell is a place made to indulge in everything without judgment. Shouldn’t Ra-on get to indulge like this just this once?

Ra-on wants to see the world that blooms between you and Lucifer. He could never catch the full depth of the conversations, but he would always notice the way you both were sitting. You in the more plush chair and Lucifer in the smaller one. Lucifer looking no less comfortable as he sipped his tea, and you smiling as you tapped a tune on the table.

When did you cross that threshold that Ra-on can’t reach?

Ra-on thought, perhaps, it was fear holding him back. And here he is, in this beautiful greenhouse, all on his own because if he has to take such steps to get rid of that fear and become closer to Lucifer, then so be it. Because then, everything should click eventually and all the devil kings will finally get along. Ra-on will finally get to see them all in one place, talking to one another, interacting and being happy.

And then, surely, Lucifer will finally being down all his walls. And maybe Ra-on will get to see more of what it’s like to be under him, what he looks like when they’re finally intertwined in bliss.

“But, they’ll get hurt if they continue like this.” And if they continue, Ra-on won’t truly heal. He won’t be able to enjoy anything. Hasn’t been able to for a while.

“So, abandoning them in the middle of an angel attack didn’t hurt them?”

…what?

“Walking out of a bar, going missing for two days, and coming back covered in fluids without telling your friend didn’t hurt them?”

What? What, when did–that’s not how that happened!

“I… I-”

Lucifer smiled. “Willfully ignorant, just like they said. Just like what I witnessed. Always running away. You didn’t even tell them you were coming to visit me, did you?”

“…”

“…I’m sleepy. You can leave now.”

[andthekitchensinkao3]

Sample Weekday/Proudest Word-Wrangling/Last Sentence shenanigans

Thank you @notyourmamasdeerbat and @redheadsramblings for the tags to various writerly games (and I think @mercars-musings tagged me in something too the other day? I see you, but I have the memory of a leaky fish bowl). :3 I’m calling this a mashup of them all, because why not, right?

Sorry in advance for the Behind the Scenes style nattering. 💜💚

I’ll start with something I think is a lot of fun: switching POVs. I do this a lot, whether I’m writing thrillers, romance style fic, or straight up horror. In chapter 3 of The Two-Mage Job, Rook 'Pari' Ingellvar describes his party dress like this:

The colour of corroded copper, a dusty blue grey with flecks of green, he’d saved it for some ill-defined ‘special occasion’ that never arrived. At least this way, he could wear it once, get it out of his mind, and pretend.

Not one for flowery descriptions, and, because of the headspace he’s in he can’t really admit to himself what it means to wear a stunning dress to a party where he has to pretend to be Emmrich’s fiancé. He can’t entertain the notion he’s wearing something that will appeal to Emmrich, because their breakup was so horrible he’s refusing to process any of it for almost an entire year. He’s all up in his turtle shell, hiding from his feelings. But. He can make believe, for one night. He can dress the part.

In chapter 4, this is Emmrich’s POV when seeing this same dress for the first time:

The sound of movement came from upstairs, and Emmrich turned just in time to see Pari come to a stop at the edge of the staircase. Wearing a dress. A gown the colour of ruins and old armories left to decay, the shade of forgotten mysteries, the memories of ancient songs. The bodice hugged the edge of his collarbones, sweeping up behind his shoulders, making the most of his perfect posture brought on by his chronic inflammatory responses, but no less beautiful. The gown was structured, and fit him like a second skin showing off his anatomy. Flat chest, narrow waist and hips to cling to. Strong thighs and calves, peeking out through the high slits in the skirt. Sculpted arms, strong enough to ward off any tidal wave of panic, in the dark.

Emmrich’s clearly on the opposite end of the scale. He’s never stopped loving Rook, never pretends otherwise, but since he (rightly) blames himself for their breakup and the fallout, he’s respected Rook’s wishes to keep his distance. And, while their relationship is in ruins… there’s beauty even in ruin. He can’t not acknowledge that to himself.

Let’s see. What else? A sample, maybe? From chapter 4, in which Emmrich’s reminded of just how much he loves Pari:

“I love the way your mind works.” Emmrich swallowed down all the words he couldn’t say, and covered up his many and varied regrets with a shifting of his weight to his other hip, and the tiniest of shoulder swivels. “Ten coppers say there’s an altar and everything.”

For the first time in almost a year, Pari’s smile reached his eyes, bringing out what would one day be his very own set of crow’s feet. What wouldn’t Emmrich give to watch them grow each day, see those lines etched further and further into his skin, living proof of decades of laughter and happiness?

Aaaand the last sentence I wrote? I am all over the place on the best of days, I have no idea which sentence was my actual last one. So, how about a compromise? The last line from chapter 1:

What’s a wedding party spent with the man who wouldn’t marry him, compared to killing a god?

Tagging all the usual suspects [affectionate] meaning if you see this, consider yourself tagged!

[website-enjoyer]

Hey I read your post about stuff like UBI still relying on imperialist resource extraction, do you have any resources specifically related to what a healthcare system that isn't imperialist might look like? I've been trying to find some kind of resource about this for two days and haven't come up with anything.

At a certain point it started to feel like maybe there isn't a solution and due to the current Empirical Collapse Era, everyone living in the core is just Fucked and we're about to be sent back to the stone age once infrastructure collapses and we won't have any food, medicine, electricity, etc. And there's nothing we can do to meaningfully stop it.

So I really hope you can at least point me in the right direction cuz I'm really scared about everything happening lately

hi anon, sorry my little screed against social democracy was your wake-up call re: the blood soaking everything in society. it’s understandable to feel distress. yes, things might keep getting worse before they get better. that being said, let’s unpack this worry that there’s nothing we can do to prevent a total collapse of organized society.

there would be a dark comfort in this being the case, right? we wouldn’t have any responsibility to each other, to humanity, to our environment. no need to take action, to organize, to have a political project. nothing left to do but choose how to individually distract yourself as the world ends. doomsday prepping, apocalypse prophecies, noble savage tropes, brunch and cartoons as an act of resistance, getting high, etcetera. convenient, no? i’m not trying to ascribe this viewpoint to you, just pointing out where it leads in practice. it’s self-fulfilling. think for a minute about how people being oppressed by imperialism around the world right now might feel about this outlook amongst people in the core.

so what are the other options? for one, consider that capitalism could survive. food, medicine, electricity, and infrastructure could all continue to exist but in a society with much harsher conditions for the working class, deprived of imperialism’s bribery. this isn’t a question of infrastructure decay, it’s about the system of private property, wage labour, and commodity exchange. never underestimate capitalism’s ability to sustain itself. it’s crucial that in recognizing this possibility we find solidarity with the global working classes, rather than resorting to racist politics in reaction to “falling to their level”. this is what my original post was about. personally, the possibility of capitalist civilization continuing, being reformed, scares me more than any potential break from it.

global working class solidarity brings me to the second option: socialist revolution. when a society is organized around meeting working people’s needs rather than maximizing profits, things are possible that seem unfathomable to those who have only ever known capitalism. countries like cuba and north korea, despite constant imperialist violence in the form of sanctions, isolation, and military threats—and despite the many other contradictions arising from trying to survive in a global capitalist system—maintain universal healthcare systems which result in vastly better health outcomes compared to other countries at similar economic scales. socialized ownership of the means of production is a different game entirely than reformist forms of redistribution like UBI that leave society’s productive forces under the ownership of capitalists.

this requires a revolution. if we recognize revolution as a possibility, as our historical responsibility, what does that lead to in practice? organizing. this is how people under siege by the most powerful countries in the world have been able to build some of the most advanced healthcare systems ever to exist. this is how at the height of the cold war, the ussr was still able to play a primary role in eradicating smallpox globally. i leave you with a few very short reads: che guevara’s on revolutionary medicine, n.a. semashko’s the work of the public health authorities in soviet russia, and wu chieh-ping’s medicine and health: for workers, peasants, and soldiers.

[jasontoddspussy]

ALRIGHTY lets go!

The Corpse; A short guide.

So. You want to write or depict cadavers in your work? Well, look no further! Hopefully, this will be helpful to you.

A corpse is a dead person, also known as a cadaver - it's something that we all become at some point. Corpses can vary a lot, depending on the person and the context of their deaths. Let's start with a general corpse description and what usually happens after death.

Following the cease of circulation when the heart stops, some muscle and tissue will remain responsive to stimuli for approximately 3-4 minutes. In this short window of time, resuscitation is still possible, however anoxia and irreversible ischemia is a risk.

That doesn’t feature in the supravital period, which extends from 100-120 minutes after the heart has stopped. During this period, muscle and tissue will respond to mechanical and electrical stimulation.

In other words; As soon as your heart stops beating, your body is now on a clock of decomposition (unless of corpse, other preventative measures are taken). Decomposition can vary in appearance and signs depending on various factors pre-and-post mortem, but generally it's divided into separate stages; Fresh. Bloat. Active decay. Advanced decay. Skeletonised.

The natural body;

By this I mean a body that's died and left to own devices, not autopsied or embalmed. That means this body goes through the post-mortem stages of decomposition, be it in a casket or shroud placed directly in the ground.

Fresh cadavers are people who've died within 24-48 hours, where rigor mortis sets in and dissipates. Generally, fresh cadavers start to change colour within 2-4 hours post-mortem. Cadavers can have all sorts of colors of decay, be it due to pre-existing conditions such as liver failure (which would cause a build-up of bilirubin and give the skin and eyes a very yellow tone), livor mortis, blood or mold.

A fresh corpse looks slack at first. Eyes are open, more often than not unevenly so with lazy-eyes, beginning to cloud-over, and lines of dust (also known as kevorkian sign) will adhere onto the eyeball as it deflates. Lips pull back in most cases or they shrink and become very thin. Jaw is slack. The scent of death varies from person to person, but generally the more body fat you have, the stronger the scent.

From the time a cadaver cools to ambient temperature and until it becomes a skeleton, soft tissue decomposes by aerobic and anaerobic bacterial action, known as Autolysis, the disruptions and disintegration of cell walls, varies depending on the surrounding environmental conditions but generally begins in bodies buried graves at 48-72 hours after death. Intestinal membrane disruption releases aerobic and anaerobic bacteria. The process of autolysis gradually blends into the stage of decomposition known as putrefaction, which is characterized by decomposition occurring in an anaerobic environment. It’s faster in the presence of oxygen, and therefore bodies on the surface decompose faster than those buried, while bodies submerged in water decompose slower than buried.

Temperature plays a role, where the higher the temperature is the quicker it’ll set in and resolve. Meanwhile the colder it is, the slower it’ll set in and the longer it’ll last.

Things like death by electrocution effects it by hastening the onset and short duration, or poisoning which can both hasten or delay it.

Algor mortis, or body temperature, refers to The cooling of the body until it reaches ambient temperature.

It can vary depending on external and internal factors such as ambient/room temperature, the temperature of the deceased pre-mortem (like, hypo/hyperthermia), clothes, body mass and body position.

Using a formula that says normal temperature x rectal temperature divided by 1.5hrs = approximate time since death.

1.5 is because it’s said that the body cools by 1.5 degrees fahrenheit every hour. However, when the body’s temperature is around 7 degrees F from ambient temperature, the cooling slows significantly and can take several hours to reach room temperature.

Bodies will get red-purpley patches on them depending on their positions post-mortem. This is known as Livor Mortis.

Livor mortis is the gravitational pooling of blood post mortem in the body - both in capillaries, venules and in organs. Onset is variable, but usually starts to show around 2 hours, but can occur as early as 15 minutes post mortem. The color will change from red to purple as oxygen dissociates from the red blood cells, turning it into deoxyhemoglobin. However, certain types of poisoning (such as carbon monoxide) will keep the color a consistent cherry red.Bodies that are very anaemic may not experience this.

Lividity, as in the blood flow post mortem, is not fixed. If applied pressure, the area will turn white as blood is squeezed into surrounding areas - this can be done until approx 4-6 hours post mortem, as the cooling of the body will have solidified the fat making the blood unable to be squeezed into other areas. The quantitative measurements of livor mortis are only useful for 30-40 hours post mortem and before the changes of putrefaction have begun. The rate of occurrence, intensity of coloration, distribution, and possible redistribution of lividity are so variable and difficult to standardize.

The estimate, of the postmortem interval (PMI) during this stage of decomposition is more difficult and less precise because of the multiple factors involved which consist not only of intrinsic factors (ie, the physical and diseased state of the body) but also extrinsic factors (ie, the context in which the body decomposes). A body will decompose more rapidly if sepsis or a fever was present before death, in edematous tissues, in obese individuals, while decomposition will be slower in thin individuals.

What is rigor mortis?

Rigor Mortis refers to the contraction of muscles that sets in around 2-6 hours after death, lasts around 24-84 hours, then gradually loosens. This happens because ATP is still being produced after death, but when there’s no longer any energy left to keep muscles fluid, it contracts.

Several outside and inside factors contribute to the speed of which rigor mortis develops; things such as violent exercise or high fever during the agonal stage will cause a rapid onset and shorter duration.

The amount of skeletal muscle dictates the duration - an infant will have an early onset and early disappearance, while a strong and robust person will have a slower onset and a longer duration.

Bloat refers to the stage of which bacteria will have eaten through broken down cell-walls and tissue, since the proteins that kept them in place from doing this is no longer working, the bacterial in your body will essentially eat you from the inside. Because of this, they produce gasses, which will cause the torso, especially the abdomen, the genitals, throat, tongue and eyes to bulge and 'bloat' because of the gasses expanding the flesh until it pops. The flesh will take on a bruised and sickly-looking appearance as your insides slowly turn liquid. When you pop, you're officially in the active-decay zone. Congrats!

Your insides are liquid, and honestly look like thick chunky chicken soup (you're welcome for that visage), and if there wasn't any insect before (which I highly doubt) there surely will be now. Maggots will feast on the fat, burrowing beneath the skin, but beetles will come and feed on you, spiders, larvae, moths - it's a smørgasbord for insects. Your body will actively rot, or be eaten, or both, as you speed through active and advanced decay.

Finally, your skeletonised remains is the result. Your skin may hang on in places, leathery and dry, and your hair might still be there. But you're now a spooky scary skeleton.

Autopsies & Embalmed bodies;

In many places in the world, if someone dies unexpectedly, from crime, disease, or if the next-of-kin desires, an autopsy is done to figure out what went wrong, or to file a death certificate. Bodies who are autopsied will have their organs removed and often times preserved in a formaldehyde mixture for an (x) amount of time post-autopsy in case of further study, police work or evidence protocol.

On that note, when someone dies, usually the first people on the scene alongside the police are the MLI - The MLI are the first responses from the medical offices, they’re the ones arriving at the scene of an untimely or unusual death and document, investigate and examine everything. They're what they'd call forensics in TV.

What's typically in a morgue? Each table, autopsy table really, is instrumented with a high-powered faucet, kind of what you’d see in industrial kitchens. The ones resembling a hose. Metal slats are built into the tables to allow fluids to drip down. Beneath the tables are narrow basins that catch the drippings, leading directly to a biohazard waste container, and it's pluggable, which is handy when working with homicides or suicides by gun, that way bullets doesn’t get into the container.

The main goal of an Autopsy is essentially;

Finding the cause of death, and the manner of death.

The cause of death is the “what physically caused this person's body to die” - the chain of lethal events that is purely physiological in nature.

The manner of death is the classification of the circumstance. Every death is categorised as either;

Accident, Homicide, Suicide, Natural causes, Theraupeutic complication or Undetermined.

The distinction between the two are important for lots of reasons, depending on the person and their life. Be it insurance companies policy, or someone's landlady.

Every autopsy begins roughly the same. An extremely thorough external examination.

Anything from clothing, jewellery, hair, scars to whatever metal you have pierced through flappy parts of flesh, or miscellaneous pocket items. Any scar, birthmark, tattoo - You name it, is noted down. Everything is important, a forgotten freckle or birthmark, anything really, can make or break any death certificate or an investigation.

Then different samples are taken, such as samples of the vitreous fluid (one of the fluids in the eyeball), using a 1 ml syringe with a 20 gauge needle (pink needles). The needle is inserted into the side of the eyeball until the tip is visible through the pupil (usually, this takes approx. 2 seconds). Normally this is done for both eyes, but that’s not always possible. Yes, sometimes eyes pop out.

Next is a blood sample, typically taken from the large femoral vein or one behind the collarbones.

The first incision is the Y-incision. From each collarbone, there's an incision made towards the sternum, until it meets in the middle. From there it's a straight line down ending by the pelvis. Now the body can be carefully opened up and have connective tissue on the ribs sliced off and soft flesh on the stomach removed.

Now the torso is visually divided into the 5 cavities that make it up;

The abdominal cavity, which is also the largest. It holds the intestines. Behind it is the cavity that holds the kidneys. There’s the chest which has the lungs, both of them have their own cavity filled with fluids. And finally, the heart, also in the chest. When conducting an autopsy, it's important to both count all the organs, and also remember to separate based on cavities. This makes it easier when it comes to contamination of inside or outside sources, since not every organ could be affected.

Where someone starts with the organs depends on different things such as damage. Typically someone would start with membranes that protect organs. Observing the tissue and membranes help the examiner with the COD, since damaged tissue would be red, infections would be yellow/green, and large pools of blood could be an indicative of a burst aorta or spleen. Yes, those organs are very fragile and will burst very easily, and is actually often times the COD when someone dies from a crash or fall.

The tools used are scalpels, clampers, pincers - which are medical in nature, but a lot of tools can also just be something brought from a hardware store. For example, large pruning scissors you'd use in a garden works excellent enough as a rib-cutter. Typically, when more advanced tools is used, like a bone saw, the examiner is not the one using the tool, but an assisting technician.

From there, it's snapping off the breastplate, and opening different membranes. If there's a large pool of blood coming out of say, the abdominal membrane, then it's because the person's heart was still beating after the trauma occurred. This distinction is useful for the examiner, for example, if the body's neck is broken alongside the large amount of blood; that'd mean the person likely died from blood loss to the surrounding tissue (ischemia) and not the broken neck.

When someone has been opened and examined, it's time to remove the organs. Typically the examiner starts with the lungs, which are pink and spongy less the person was a smoker, then they're crispy like a chicken nugget, and heart, and places them where they feel is best. Organs are slippery though, so it might be trial and error on where it's easiest to put them. Like by the body's feet.

The knives used here could be medical, but it could, again, also just be regular sharp kitchen knives.

Once the heart and lungs are gone, it's time for the intestines. To start, the fatty tissue that adheres it to the rectum is trimmed away, it's just about pulling since it's one long organ. When everything but the start of the duodenum is out, that's cut away, thus severing the intestines from the stomach. The intestines are placed in a bowl to weigh. The liver is attached to the intestines and the stomach, but it’s easy to remove. Opposite to the liver is the spleen.

Next the stomach, pancreas, duodenum and oesophagus can be pulled out in one line and placed with the other organs. Now there's plenty of room to remove the kidneys and adrenal glands, which don't look all that grand unless they're infected.

The only things left to remove from the abdominal cavity are the bladder, sex-organs and the rectum. To do this, the examiner will need to reach down deep into the pelvis and cut around the anus. It makes a terrible suck-like sound.

Removing the bladder is always a gamble. If it’s full, it’ll be like handing a soft water balloon.

The sexual organs are removed if it's a uterus. If it's testicles, the body's scrotum will be inverted and if the testicles are undamaged, they'll likely just be pushed back in place.

Next is the aorta and vena carta, the largest artery and vein in the body respectively.

They're adhered to the spine, and will be sliced off to be placed alongside other organs.

Here the examiner will also be able to see if any parts of the spinal collum, medulla spinalis, has been broken. You can often feel and hear it when a body has a lot of broken bones, but you still need to confirm it. If you want to confirm if someone's hip is broken, you do it by slicing away the flank muscles.

Next up is the face. For starters, a U-incision is made from ear-to-ear, peeling away as much of the scalp as possible and let it hang down the face. Here is where the cranium will be opened using a bone-saw, making a halo-like cut. It's important not to slice too deep so as to not damage anything. Then it's just about popping off the top of the cranium. The outside of the brain is white because of the arachnoid and pia maters. Delicate blood vessels line the tissues, and if someone dies from a headwound, you'd see blooms of red on the sub-arachnoid mater. Outside the skull, the brain has the consistency of jello. If someone fell from a building, and their head hit something, it'd likely make the brain pooling and bloody.

When the cerebrum, cerebellum and medulla oblongata have all been removed, all that's left is the neck.

The trachea, thyroid and upper oesophagus is in a big pile, being pulled from the base of the tongue. Here, the examiner can poke a couple fingers down by the back of the jawbone, feeling for jutting bones or listening for crunches. If the body's head had been shaken in a specific way, a hit to the upper neck bones could sever the skull and neck, injuring the medulla oblongata and causing instant death. It’s similar to decapitation but the head stays on.

With the organs weighted, notes filled out, the medical examiner can now conduct and finalise their investigation for the COD and MOD filling out the death certificate.

The embalmed body:

Embalming is the process of slowing down decomposition of a cadaver, be it because of travel, funeral arrangements or for display. Most American funeral homes will just do embalming, because it is law in the US for funeral homes to offer, and be trained, in embalming procedures. This hurts funeral homes owned by Jewish people and Muslim people, for example, as their culture of deathcare doesn't allow for embalming.

Very advanced decomposed or damaged cadavers can still be embalmed, however, you'd need someone specifically trained in reconstructive embalming and deathcare, as it sometimes entails replacing body parts. Since everything will decay, some bodies on display have teams of scientists and reconstructive specialists to replace and bathe the body in whatever formular they use periodically.

Also, quick disclaimer, embalmment is illegal here because of chemicals, so all my knowledge stems from research only. The part of dressing cadavers is based on experience of myself and people I know.

The most common reason for embalming is for a funeral viewing. Families/next of kin can request a specific make-up look, hair-do, outfit, and will sometimes participate in this process. In some cultures it is the family that washes and prepares the body entirely, which used to be the norm until funeral homes made death-care a business and the idea of housing the dead, and death in general, became more and more taboo.

Different chemicals are used depending on how the person died, as well as their complexion, so it's sort of personalised. The embalmer will be using a mixture of chemicals and dye as the embalmment fluid to help with the body's complexion.

The embalmment fluid is made up of the aforementioned dye, a mixture of formaldehyde, glutaraldehyde, methanol, and other solvents, and humectant (which means, it helps restore some of the fluid lost during the dying process)

The strength of the fluid depends on how much formaldehyde is present. The other chemicals present are known as co-inject chemicals, which act as the vehicles for the humectant, dye and formaldehyde to move through the body. How long an embalmment process last depends on the state of the body, COD, ect.

Now that the cadaver is on a steel table, the mortician will begin washing and disinfecting it. While doing so, the person will be massaging the different joints and body-parts to break up any rigor-mortis that may be present.

Clean and massaged, it's time to open up an incision in the neck to gain access to the vein and artery present. This is done with a scalpel right along he collarbone, where then the mortician will lift up the carotid artery with a large lock-pick looking tool called an aneurism hook.

Then, using a large tube, the arterial tube, will be inserted into the artery. Once it's in place, a pair of tool-scissors with a flat horizontal tip, called a haemostat, will be clamping down on the artery with the tube-nozzle inside to keep it in place.

The machine that holds the tank full of embalmment fluid is connected to the arterial tube, which will begin pushing the mix throughout the body, into the arteries, the heart, all into the veins and it's going to push out the bacteria-rich blood. As mentioned earlier, the bacteria that eats you up inside can do so because there's no longer proteins there to stop them. What this mixture of chemicals does is fix those proteins, because formaldehyde coagulated protein, and thus halts, pauses or slows down, the bacterial decomposition on the inside.

And, while the embalmment fluid is being run into the cadaver, it's important for the mortician to massage the body so that the mixture can get into as many capillaries as possible, massaging and pushing towards the heart. Any part of the body that's accessible should be stimulated.

Meanwhile, the mortician will use what's called a "trocar" which is a tool that looks kind of a like a very very long screwdriver. It's very sharp, and hollow, and works by puncturing the abdominal cavity towards the right ear, puncturing the heart, and moved back and forth in sideways slow motions to create channels through the organs. The trocar is hollow, because it works as a suction-tool. When the mortician is working and pushing it through the organs in the torso, they're also sucking up the different fluids that's accumulated, to make way for the embalmment fluid that's going to replace it. This is done both for the upper and lower parts of the torso.

When it comes to the face, with the features being "set", which involves a reconstruction of the face using make-up or injections. It's also when you close the eyes and mouth. Some funeral homes use onions to put into the eyesockets to keep them shaped. Others use eye-caps, which also helps keeping the lids shut.

Whether the mortician begins with the face or the body is generally up to preference.

There's several different ways to close the mouth, be it needle injection in the gums, or using a long curved needle to sew it shut (muscular suture) where it starts through the nostril, through the septum, down below the lip, opposite side, and back up to the nostril to be tied off.

Some like to use a simple rolled up towel beneath the chin to keep the mouth shut.

Since the face will often be sunken, or heavily decomposed, hypodermic injections of a perseverative fluid to reconstruct features.

When the face has been reconstructed, and body embalmed, it's time for the clothes and the make-up/hair.

For the clothes, it's put up by cutting the back open, so it's kind of like a backwards jacket, and then able to easier be put on the deceased.

The same is done for pants, but there's a tool, a sort of bench, and a shoe-horn-esque thing, that helps with the legs of the deceased in case they're wearing pants. The cut open parts are then arranged to be hidden beneath the body. The hair is done so the front is styled, more often than not the back is tied into a knot or otherwise concealed. The make-up is a mixture of cosmetic products and mortuary make-up, and will more often than not be sprayed on (like, the foundation).

The body is now embalmed and ready for viewing!

Burned bodies;

Burned bodies are cadavers that've died by fire, or been boiled. The main differences here, is the way that bodies will contract because of the heat. The skin will split open to let vapors out, bubbling and sizzling from the fat and tissues being cooked. The organs would turn solid. The high heat makes bones brittle, and the skin extremely dry and black.

It takes immense heat to cremate or burn a body to ash, hence why crematories have specialised machines. The body would be in a fetal-position from the muscles seizing. The throat and inside of the mouth would be burned from the hot air. During cremations, the organs liquify, and the brain with typically leak out of the ears and nose.

Fun fact. 5-degree burns is a thing, that's what you call blackened or bodies that turned to ash.

Water-logged bodies;

Bodies that're lost at sea and later wash up can vary a lot, and will often times look different as opposed to your natural corpse. Not just because water is more often than not cold and will act as a liquid fridge, but because of scavenging animals, and that as soon as the body is out of the water, putrefaction or active decay, will occur much faster. Another key differential is the presence of 'adipocere' which a wax-like substance that forms due to the anaerobic nature of water. Clothing on a body will alter the buoyancy and the progression of decomposition, it can also be misleading.

One of the most well-known external change that immersion in liquid has on the body is wrinkling of the skin, particularly involving the hands and feet, kinda like when you've been in the shower too long. But much more severe. The top layer of the skin looks like a wrinkled glove. Another cutaneous change and is caused by rigor of the erector pilli muscles within the skin is called Cutis anserina. Both of these changes, wrinkling and cutis anserina, will occur as a postmortem change and do not require the individual to be alive upon entering the water.

Livor mortis and discoloration of the tissue happens in water-logged cadavers like it does for regular cadavers, just at a slower rate, especially in colder waters.

During an autopsy, people who drowned will have fluids built up in their pleural cavities. Regardless of if they died or not in the water, if a body is later on placed in the water, fluid might enter through the mouth, as well as dirt and other debris. The rate of decomposition affects this, as bodies that're more decomposed have been found to be more predated upon, and have larger build up of fluids in their chest cavities. Rigor mortis and livor mortis are typically present in bodies recovered from the water though the onset and waning of these classic postmortem changes may be altered by water temperature, current, changing of body position due to movement, and level of activity prior to death. Pink discoloration of the teeth and gums, an observation once thought to be a sign of drowning, is likely due to lividity in these tissues occurring while the body is what is known as the "drowning position" where the head and limbs are facing downwards while the back is facing upwards, likely breeching the surface of the water.

The other main difference to bodies found in water, is the currents. The currents can alter the temperature, but also move the deceased and drag them across or into several obstacles, creating injuries that can mislead the COD.

And that's pretty much it! I hope it made sense, and that it'll be useful. Feel free to ask clarifying questions!

[talonabraxas]

“Love is the strongest force in the universe.” — Frederick Lenz

The lover’s embrace kei @arrogantkei

Love

The path that is followed by most persons in the beginning of their spiritual search is the path of love. Love is the easiest and most effective way to begin our search for self-realization, for our selves. Love is the highest of all qualities that we can experience. The more we know about love, the more we experience love, the happier and more complete we are.

Love is, in its essence, a free, formless strand of luminosity. It is a light that uplifts our awareness, that transforms our consciousness, that kindles in us the flame of self-giving, knowledge and power. Love brings future into the present. It can cause us to take a quantum leap in our spiritual growth. It knits families together, friends, lovers, societies, nations and perhaps one day a world.

If we examine the essence of existence very closely, we’ll find that the essence of existence is love. There really is nothing that isn’t love. God is love. Truth is love. Beauty is love. Everything is a formation or an aggregate of love.

In more mature and advanced states of love, we love others, the world, God, eternity. In the most advanced state of love we don’t love for any reason or any purpose. We don’t even direct our love necessarily to an object. We just love for the sake of love. Love is beginningless and endless ecstasy. It’s an unfathomable mystery. It is the study of our lives.

In the fire of love we melt the ego down again and again and again. What is there when the ego is gone? Eternity, love…

If you love very, very deeply, if you love truth and God, your love will cause you to have a union. You’ll merge for a while, for a short time, with that truth. You’ll become it. Each time you merge with God in your meditation you’ll be freer and purer afterwards. It’s as if you’re going out into the sun, again and again.

So the light of eternity purifies, and it is only that real love of the infinite that will motivate you. Love is far superior as a spiritual device, as a spiritual vehicle, because when we follow the path of love we go higher and higher and higher. Our velocity actually increases as we go on, rather than decreases as with aversion, because our love grows and becomes more strong and more perfect.

Love is the strongest force in the universe. Once we harness ourselves to that force, it carries us to eternity. Yet at the same time, love is visceral and real. Love is physical. It embraces all things, all creatures and all beings. Love doesn’t space you out or take you out of this world, it makes you conscious of your own immortality. But love also teaches you to love your own mortality; to love this body that’s only here for a little while, just as we love the flowers that bloom for a short time and pass on; to love the skies and the scenes; to love all things in this world and all things beyond this world. As you do this more and more, you will move rapidly towards liberation.

Love leads us to ourselves – this is the mystery of love–what love does and why it does it. These questions can only be answered in your deep meditation.

Love is the shortcut to higher meditation. Above thought is love, and within and below thought is love. Love is a ladder that we can climb through thought. It’s very hard to stop thought. Try with your willpower – it’s very difficult. But if instead of trying to stop thought when you meditate you focus your attention on love – meditate on the heart center and just let that love grow and increase, more and more – then suddenly you’ll find, guess what? Your thoughts are slacking, you’re moving into a higher field of awareness, you’re feeling wonderful. Light is everywhere and suddenly there’s no thought. This is why love is said to be such an easy way to learn to meditate.

The secret of love is acceptance, acceptance of our finite self, of our life, our birth, our growth, our decay and our death; acceptance of the world around us, of eternity. The message of love is acceptance–self-acceptance in the smaller sense, of the individual personal self, and self-acceptance in the larger sense, of the self as eternity.

So practice love and self-acceptance and you’ll see you’ll have a beautiful life, an absolutely beautiful life.

[goldenflame-au]

what's ivypool up to in your au? i absolutely love her so im excited to see your plans for her!

Hi, thank you for asking! I actually love talking about my Ivypool :3!!

The beginning of her story isn't quite so different. As Ivypaw, she's recruited into the Dark Forest not by Hawkfrost, but by two mollies: Hopeshatter and Wishrot. These two are used to being shafted out by their sibling, and relate to Ivypaw feeling left out and left behind. (Bonus points to whoever can figure out who these cats are lol)

She trains in the Dark Forest, and the cats there breed her hatred; she finds herself hating her sister Dovepaw, and wanting to be stronger than her at any cost. Once she delivers the "sign" to Goldenstar and starts the battle with Shadowclan, she really realizes where she's gone wrong.

So she plays spy. When Tigerheart begins to make advances on her, now Ivypool, she plays along, only to grow angry when she realizes that Tigerheart has also been making advances on her sister, Dovewing. She never had feelings for Tigerheart, but the fact that he's playing both of them, as sisters, doesn't sit right with her at all.

Before The Great Battle, Ivypool reconnects with Dovewing, and they talk out their differences; Ivypool is glad to have her sister back, and wants to catch up, but something seems... off, about Dovewing.

With the return of Hollyleaf, Ivypool sees her a lot; she connects with her about feeling unwanted, out of place with their only siblings in a prophecy. They actually bond a lot! And Hollyleaf says something damning: she doesn't think Starclan is listening.

This is a lot to think about for Ivypool, and as The Great Battle begins, she fights at her sister's side. And the end of the battle shakes her to her very core.

As Hawkfrost is killed in battle by his father, Tigerstar, his spirit immediately rises from his body. However, it's chained to the living world, as Starclan and the Dark Forest stop fighting; a live trial, to decide where Hawkfrost's spirit will go. Fawnshine fights for his character, and as Yellowfang gives her essence to make a neutral afterlife, Ivypool's faith is challenged more than it ever has been or ever will.

After a third of Thunderclan leaves with Hollyleaf after the battle, desperate to find a new life away from Starclan's scrutiny, newly made Bramblestar announces Ivypool as his deputy. She takes her duties extremely seriously, and is proud of her position. But when Dovewing disappears from the clans (see: Tigerheart's Shadow), she becomes a wreck, desperate for the return of her sister. Tigerheart returns alone, with two kits, and Ivypool berates him, threatening to send him to the Dark Forest herself if she ever finds out that he hurt even a hair on her pelt.

In A Broken Code, when Bramblestar is possessed by The Impostor(Ashfur), his body decays and rots, ripping him of all 9 of his lives as soon as Ashfur stops possessing the body. So Ivypool becomes Ivystar, and names Mousewhisker her deputy.

And currently, all the way up to Changing Skies, Ivystar stays leader!! Thank you for asking about her, I love Ivypool and Dovewing and I'm so happy to talk about them ^_^!!!

[solifloris]

caleb limited myth : decoherence

a live reaction from yours truly bc i didn't get to do this with lucid dream afkakfjs BUT. now you get to watch me yell in realtime with live edits of this very post <3 [complete]

mostly incoherent first-thought reactions, but!!! obv spoiler warning for below!

LLLLETTTTSSSS FUCKIINNNGGG GAUUURRRRRRR

OHMYGODDDD SO IT IS PHILOS !!! <- i mean of course its philos right what else would it be akjshfksfj BUT SO IT IS

"immortality once brought lasting prosperity to philos" and then "the philos civilization was unable to escape its inevitable decay".... hmmmmm... i wonder where this lies timeline-wise.......

"most of the land had fallen into ruin" "remnants of advanced technology lay scattered across the planet" akjshfkjsg this is SO NIER AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH /YELLS AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

mentions of an empire... ou

THE SECRET WEAPON THAT CRUSHED COUNTLESS UPRISINGS WAS A MODIFIED WHAT

A MODIFIED COMBAT ANDROID

YORHA?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? A,SFHKSDHGLKRSVBLKDGFHBLKDSJFHCGLKSDJXHBFGLKJBSDHXFKG,JDXHKLFGJH /GOES INSANE

A-01.. . . . . . . haha.. aha... A2- KSJDGHGKSHDGJHKJ god i need to be SEDATED

ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu omg askjhivkdjfhkjcbnm what goes on

"THERE YOU ARE" OH

THERE YOU ARE SWEETHEART

I WAS LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU

ksjdghkshdjkgKJSDHGKHSKJDGHK

okokokook anyway

caleb sounds so aksjhgshkj baby.. icb we can star these

cryinf he sounds like 9S im going insane

"we finally meet, A-01" OHHHH IM GOING INSANE IM GOING SSSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOO INSANE

HE SOUNDS SOOOOO AKJSHKSHGDDKJ 9S

omfg mc... akjhkcjvm so mc can be controlled...

"people fear me, avoid me, alter my configurations" ok but

KAINE?

SKDJGHSJDHSKJHGJK

god im so sorry omfg i need to stop i keep seeing nier

"so, why would anyone reach out to me?" STOPPPP NO WAY AKJSHGKJSHD STOP???????? THATS SUCH A MIKI LINE BTW. BTWWW. ALKJGHLSKHGJDHFKJBHCVN SOBBING CRYINF THROWING UPPPPPPPP

:( THE WAY MC REACHES OUT TO CALEB, A STRANGER, IMMEDIATELY :( SHE THINKS SHE'S A MONSTER :( SHE WAS MADE TO BE ONE SO SHE BELIEVES SHE IS ONE :( OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THATS SO . NOT EVEN KAINE BUT EMIL AKJSHGKJSD SO EMIL CODED AKSHFKJSHDKJGNKJDFHNGKJDFHNCKVJGDNKJCFVG AUHGGGGGGGGG

OHHHHMYGOD ????????? THATSA BEAUTIFUL BACKGROUND OH I WANF TO SAVETHIS

its currently summer...............

"i'll take you to any place you want to visit" IM GOING TO THROW UPPPPPPPPP

it seems mc doesnt remember caleb or knows him at all bc she just akjsghk knows him as x-02 but also ,, keeps viewing him as a stranger.. meanwhile he seems very familiar with her? but also "we finally meet"... INTERESTING

"theres this fruit that comes from a tree called silverglow, and it glows with a silvery-white light" LUNAR TEAR KJFSHKHFSHDJKHGSD SHOOT ME IM

caleb's voice .. the voice acting in this is making me so emotional askgjhskjgnmv

i swear to GODDDDD hes so 9S like the akjghksjdg line delivery thE HGDJHFKHJ "i'm your friend" LIKE JUST "hey 2B, people close to me usually call me nines..." KSHDGHKJ AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"they erase my memories once i return to the lab" IM GONNA BE SICKKK

its giving rapuzel though actually......

sdkjdskh mc is so used to being captive that there's this whole thing with learned helplessness again... we see it so much in the LIs but this may be the first time that we see it with mc herself, because at least this time she's aware of what's being done to her...

WHAT

"CALMING, ENCOURAGING, BRIGHT... CALEB"

WHAT

"can i use it as my name?" "of course. i won't let you forget." HELLO????????? WHAT

NO WAYYYYYYYYY AKSJDHFKDJFNGVKJDFHKGJHVKDJFN

wait wait i want to hear this in jp im gonna go back to this in japanese later......

KJGHKSJGH? I MGOINF INSANE THOUGH WADYOU MEANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

SDKJGHJKJDFKJ DID SHE ????? ASSIGN THE NAME TO HIM? ??? IS THAT WHAT THIS IS?????????????????????????????????????? IS THIS ABOUT THE ETYMOLOGY OF THE NAME CALEB?????????? it makes more sense for his name in other languages, xia yizhou and mahiru directly relate to sun an brightness... caleb as a name is more on loyalty though.. i wonder

"and caleb will be someone you see everyday" IM GOING TO BE SICKKKKKKKKKKKKK

THEYRE DOINF A FUCKING PINKY PROMISE OMYGOD

"now we've made a promise. we'll stay together every day and never be apart." IMMMMM SJFGHKSDJFHVJDFKBVJ THROWING UP RN

OH GOD

I WANT TO READ THIS AGAIN IN JAPANESE AKHFKSJG

oh

...

oh

our promise barely began before it was broken in the cruelest way possible WOW GEEZ

OKAY

I SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING

FUCK IT ALL

THE SLASHING MOTIONSDAJDFHVKDFJB ONTJE SCREEN I CANT DO THIS,,,

"my mind is a blur of laser fire and soldiers collapsing under my floating blades" WHOAH MC

THE FIRST WHERE I HAD FIRST TASTED FREEDOM TURNED INTO THAT FAMILIAR BATTLEFIELD IN AN INSTANT

IM GOING TO BE SO FUCKING SICKKKKKKKKK

ohmy god. erich fromm... erich fromm.... ERICH FROMM AND THE PARADOX OF FREEDOM MY BELOVED

IM HAVIMG A FIELD DAY

...,,.

oh..

oh..................

AKJFHKSHDG

oh..............................................................

damn bro....................

THE ENERGY SIGNATURE

DESTRUCTIO AND CONSTRUO.......... NO WAY AKJGHDKFJV DESTROY AND CREATE.......? NO WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

..

PRIORITIZING THE EXTRACTION OF ITS ENERGY FOR A-01'S REPAIRS?

WHAT THE HELL

??????? IS CALEB FUCKING ??????? SPARE PARTS ?????????????? FOR THE WEAPON OF DESTRUCTION THAT IS MC????????????????????????????????????? IM SCREAMINF

NO WAYYYYYY

OHHHH THEYRE SO MEAN

OUGH

INSANE

THIS IS INSANE

PURE INSANITY

WHAT THE HELL

she did what caleb did... she protected.. she protected the memories she.......

"i use that one day to remember someone who didn't have a name" im gonna cry

god.... and ALL THAT WAS JUST. CHAPTER ONE

ok ok ok next one.. /cries

ALKJGDHSLDK THE REPORT ????????

theyre connected im gonna sob so much so much

omfg :((( the name "caleb" gives her peace :(

this is the first time we see mc so helpless... its breaking my heart... she's just a girl bro :(

OMFG CALEB

OUGH IM GONNA SOB

ARE THEY GONNA. IS HE GONNA USE THE LINE. IS HE

AND AT LASTTTT III SSSEEEEEEEEE THE LIIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHTTTT!!!!!!1 ANDDDDDDD ITTSSS LIKEEEEEE !!! THE FOGGG!!!! HAS LIFFFTTEEEEEDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111

"i promise this will be our last escape" OUGHHH :( ITS THE LINE HE SAYS ON THE HOME SCREEN :(

OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU PILOT CALEB PILOT CALEB

seriously the KJSFHKSJDHKGJ augh the cockpit background..is so prettie

ESTIMATED HOSTILE FORCES EXCEED 20 UNITS OH THIS IS INSANE AKJHGKSFH

"you're the one i need to protect" im sobbing

caleb what do you know... mc knows nothing.. but hes so deadset on keeping her safe akjhgkdf i wonder what history they have in this...

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HIS EVOL

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /YELLS

FURTHER !! AWAY !! FROM EARTH !! TO MARS !!! WILL !!!!!!! YOU PLEASE GO WITH MMEEEEE!!!!!!!!

HELLO

AKJHKJHSKJNVKJDFN

OMFG..

:( THE GENTLENESS

OUHGGG AKJDHGKVJCM THE PAIN.. THE BURNINF :( NOOOOOOO MY MC MY BABY

"i was always the one to repair you when you returned from battle" IM GONNA SOB SO HARD :( SO THATS THEIR HISTORY :( i wonder if this ties into/reflects the current timeline and their experiments askjhgkdjf im sobbing so hard rn

THE INSTINCTIVE HUG :( OUHGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Break me tenderly... bide your time, ruiner....feel the pain and the sadness with me, lover.................

THATS WHY

THATS WHY IN JAPANESE HE SAYS !!!!!!11 NIDOTO HANASANAI !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 BECAUSE WHENEVER HE REPAIRS HER HE HAS TO LEAVE

THATS IT ISNT IT???????????????

HE SAYS IT PROPERLY HERE THE ENGLISH TRANSLATION "I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU AGAIN" AUHG

i wonder if in jp this line is also nidoto hanasanai

THE ENDING PART OF THIS SCENE IN CHAPTER 2 :(((((((((( HUHU THE PEACE THE WARMTH... "IT'S LIKE I'M RETURNING TO A PLACE THAT FEELS LIKE HOME" :((((( SOBBING CRYING THROWING UP

nO

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WAS HE CREATED FOR THIS SOLE PURPOSE????????????????????????????

"he could repair her damaged body before, but now he can't even restore her to a stable state despite using all his strength" BRO?

THEIR POWERS ARE BOUND TO THE SAME SOURCE

SO AS ONE GROWS STRONGER THE OTHER BECOMES WEAKER

i am. SO SICK. TO MY STOMACHHHHHHHHH

ALJKDGHHJ OH MYGOD

the destructio energy is getting stronger......... LIKE THE PLANET'S CONFLICT...? BRO IM LSOIN IT AKJGHJFNMV

AND WHEN THIS ENERGY GROWS UNCHECKED THE FIRST THING IT DESTROYS IS THE VESSEL CONTAINING IT

so. like. that's so kaine

bro askjhksdg im so. sick SKJSDJKDSFJ and we just

okok

chapter 3..

STOP :( AND THE FIRST THING SHE TALKS ABOUT IS HIS EYES :( OUUUGH KAJDGHKJFBM

SHE COMPARES!!! THE

THE SUMMER SKY JUST BEFORE SUNRISE :(((

sobbing CRYING THEY FINALLY ADDRESS HOW BEAUTIFUL HIS EYES AREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

i feel you mc.. i do.. i do... I DOOO..........

sob SOB SHE'S TASTING FOOD FOR THE FIRST TIME AGAIN

omg :((((((

:((( "i want to remember the promise we once made" :(

ughhhhh caleb's caretaker nature UHUHU IM SOBBING

WTF

AKJGHKDFGJ THE ONESIDED MIRROR IS INSANE

NO WAY....................................... THATS CRUEL AS FUCK

"GOOD NIGHT, MY ONE AND ONLY..." WHAT THE HELL?

STOP :( THE NAME :( HUHU :( HUUUUUU :(((

GJDHDKJHFJNBKDJF "FROM NOW ON WE'LL HEAR THE WORDS WE WANT TO HEAR" AUHG

this chapter was too soft. something is going to happen in the next chapter. shit is about to go down.

KJSDGKJSDFKJDSFDFDFKJFDSKJ PLANETARY THREATS THAT COULD ARISE FROM THE ENERGY FUSION OF A-01 AND X-02 what the hell. NO WAY AKSJHFKJSNDKGJHVDKJFHMNGKVJDFM

DREAMS OF EARTH???????????????????????

""MORE IMPORTANTLY, THE PLAE"IT CARRIES THE UNIQUE AURA OF REBIRTH""

BRO???????????????

PERHAPS IT'S NOT A DREAM BUT A DISTANT MEMORY

SO THIS CONFIRMS THAT PHILOS IS IN THE FUTURE AND THIS MYTH IS ABOUT THEIR FUTURE LIFE NOT THE PAST?????

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AKJHGKF

he has dreams about earth!caleb in the past.. like... like zayne has dreams about his other lives.... ohh.. the parallels are parallel-ing...

OH !! THEY'RE NOT ROBOTS HUH ;O just super modified, i guess...

is caleb talking about his dreams of earth :(

ouhg the amusement park... pARALLELS TO LUCID DREAM.. /DIES

also aksjghksjg the amusement park moment with 9s and 2b.. /looks away

"you said it's a place that makes people happy" WE'RE GOING TO DISNE-

omg :( "i don't know what happiness is" :( ITS LIKE THAT ONE CALEB CALL.. UGH WHAT AFFINITY WAS IT... 70-SOMETHING.. MC ASKS HIM TO RATE HER BC SHES DOING A HAPPINESS SURVEY THINGIE AND THEN SHE TRIES IT WITH HIM AND HES LIKE THE ONLY SCORE HE GETS THAT MATTERS IS HERS BC ITLL MAKEHIM HAPPY /SOBS CRIES

ok.. this chapter was heartwarming

but it was also very soft

is chapter 5 where the first kindled is... ugh im dreading it im not prepared

AKJSHSKDHGKJDFGNVKJDF /falls to the floor

okokokkkokokokook

chapter 5................

"like someone deeply connected to him was suffering and he felt her pain through an invisible bond" OH GEEZ

OH GEEZ WHERE HAVE WE SEEN THAT BEFORE

OH GEEZ WHE

LUKE AND KIERA-

sorry im so sorry um ahem,

"she had to bear this inhuman pain because of the destructio energy she was born with. he wished he bore all that pain in her stead" :(((((((((((( DUDE

in some way its like this is reversed... ish? like. mc has gone through the experiments, but also she isnt aware of it now that she went through them? so the caleb we know in the current main-story timeline, on earth, is the one that bears all the pain,,, granted, it's for her, because he's probably seen the experiments, but akjdfskjd he's bearing everything For Her and she's the one who wishes she could help

whereas here, mc consciously bears everything and caleb is the one who wants to help...

its like :( a reflection :(

PAPER CRANE

LIKE TJE

1000 PAPER CRANES...!!!!!!!!!!!!1

SOB ::((((( FLYINF PAPER CRANES..

OUHG

THIS IS MY WEAKNESS

NOOOOOOOOOO MIKI WOULD LOVE THIS OHHHMYGOD /FALLS TO THE FLOOR

infold has made a lot of associations with the animation effect of caleb's evol aksjghksj it evokes a sense of terror even for me but he's using it so gently on mc right now

ouuu :( this scene :((

"this feeling i've never felt before... is it happiness?" SOBS CRIES YELLS

OHHHH MY GOD

THE WAY SHE PULLS HIM DOWN AND SMILES AND "I LIKE THIS FEELING"

THATS SO FUCKING AKSJGHKSJDHGKJS MIKI CODED

/SCREAMS INTO OBLIVION

"this is the first time i've seen you smile" IMMM GONNNAAAAA SOBBBBBBB

"now we can see our happiness reflected in each other's faces" OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"but i still don't know what makes you happy" "you" OMYG

/THROWS UP

AKJSFHSHFKJASHFHSZKDJHVSKJZD,HXNVKJSDZFKSJDFHKAJSDGKJASHDBVKJDSN GOD. GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

oh my god

..

ohmygod

akjshskdgkvjndfkjvnkdjfv

fuck it i KNEW THINGS WERE GETTING TOO SOFT AND CUTE grrrrrGRRR

caleb being so precise with his evol :(((( ohhh ilove him...

ohh..

ouh..

oug...

he...

energy..

ou..

i will give you my fate, and your fate will become mine hello? :( KJHGKJG SOBBING?? :(

YOU KNOW WHAT THIS SCENE IS... AKJFHGKJSHDKGHKDJFH ITS THE. THING. WITH XIE LIAN AND HUA CHENG. THE!!!!!!!!!!! SKDJHGKSJHFJSDGHVKDJHFGKVJDHFGKJVDKFM WHAT WAS IT..... BORROWING SPIRITUAL POWER

AKGHKDFHG THE SCENE.. AFTER THE FIGHT WITH JUN WU... WHERE HUA CHENG GIVES.... HIM ALL HIS ENERGY TO...

WHERE IS IT WAIY

/SOBS ON THE FLOOR

OUH

AUGH

HEUGHSKJGHKBND /DIES

ough.. ouchie... ow ow...

god... the way this entire time we still havent gotten the first kindled scene ASKSKJGD

/SIGHS

okay. im going to. leave. ther est of the chapters for sometime tomorrow KAJHKFADHGKHSFKJG /SITS DOWN. I DONT HAVE THE MENTAL ENERGY FOR THIS IM GONNA CRASH OUT ROXIE.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

-

ALRIGHT GOOD MORNING ITS CURRENTLY 8:56 AM !!!!!!!!11 AND WE ARE ABOUT TO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111 CONTINUEEEEEEEEE

CHAPTER 6 OK . OK /DEEP BREATHS

:( stop :((( "the space around me feels like a laboratory—boundless yet still a prison. caleb's energy is warm and calm like lake water under the summer sun. it carries the essence of life and hope itself. he took on all the pain and darkness so i'd only be left with this pure hope."

im gonna sob akjshgkdf

the way this switches :( how caleb has been hopelessly watching mc suffer so the moment he gets the chance to take it all on himself instead, he does just that :(((( AUHG so rather than a reflection it really is a parallel :(

it's their fate repeating itself... i feel like.. its most clearly seen in caleb's myth because we already know how they've progressed on earth to reach a similar moment, and now that we know that this is the future........akdgjh

there is something so painfully tragic about the way caleb chooses, of his own will, to 'change' for the sake of mc no matter what timeline it is :(

also this is so... erich fromm

god i want to yap about the paradox of freedom so much ive already done a whole thing with lumiere on this can you tell that the paradox of freedom is my favorite

and ALSO just. the learned helplessness. but also the glorification of self-sacrifice. there is an ITCH IN MY BRAIN im telling you im having a field da-

AKJFHKAHSKHGKJADSF

AAAAANYWAY

"the pull my heart feels grows weaker" NAUR

oh? actually i just noticed

so far we haven't had any mention of mc's heart in this, huh... or like, the heart problems... /thinks

SNIFFLES HE'S THEREEEEEEEEEEE

AKJDHFGKJDHFKJHGKJB

CRIES

oh god i can

wait i need to prepare myself

:((( THIS LINE :( SO THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS... I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE IN THE SAME WORLD AS YOU :( MEANT THE :( THE TORTURE THAT MC WAS GOING THROUGH :(

:((((((((( EUGH

you can tell that caleb's va really changed the tone at this point? the shift in it UGHHHHHHHHHH my HEART

THE HOLDING HANDS HUHUH OUHHH MY HEART MY HEART

this kindled... gives me flashbacks to lightseeking shadowrend askjhgkhfgkbn /falls to the floor

AKJDSGNVKJSH STOP,,, THE PORT CONNECTION T^T

"don't waste your energy on me" CALEB SHUT UP </3

AKJSFHAHGDJHKSJFNKJVDKFJ THISSSS SCENEEEE

reminds me of the end of the opening scene with 9s and 2b asfhskj

"you knew?" KJASHGKJDG MC "you lied to me." "yes, i did." HELLO

AKDGAKJDHGHKSJXDCGHBKDJFG HOW ARE YOU GOING TO PUNISH ME CALEB.. PLEASE

?????? YOOOOOO

SHES DOING THE THING AGAIN

"PROMISE ME... THAT YOU'LL NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN. EVER." OHHHHHMYGOD

AKSGHKSJDHGKJDFHKJGBKDFK mc is being REAL MIKI RIGHT NOW

the way she stOPS AT HIS THROAT ///9S2B FLASHBACKS

KJSDJKDDFDFHJDFSJKJKDFJDFSJHKDF I'LL MAKE YOU MY PRISONEROMYGODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

I WILL SHACKLE YOU TO A PLACE ONLY WE KNOW ABOUT

HEY HEY HEY HEY THATS

/ESCAPE PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND/ LET ME TAKE YOU TO A PLACE THAT NOBODY EVEN KNOWS, THEM SHACKLES AND THEM CHAINS, YEAH YOU'RE FREE TO TAKE THEM OFF-

/SCREAMS YELLS INTO OBLIVION

:( stop :( are they talking about earth :(

it's fascinating, caleb has shown mc all these things and has given her a taste of what freedom feels like... that she's gotten so attached to it, enough for her to express all her intense feelings in the way that she is right now. we know the mc in the current timeline is similar in a sense, given that she's found a lot of solace in caleb and is attached to that feeling, but it's like this myth gives us a very clean picture of how that really feels like? maybe this is more intense because of how aware she is of what it was like to be without that freedom, that the taste of it that she gets from caleb is very impactful

but just. the psychological insight to that which still parallels to the relationship they have on earth...

the light from the window reaches his eyes and makes them shine like a nebula BRO

I LOVE THAT LINE

THAT'S SO BEAUTIFULLY WORDED

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL SENTENCE

YOU KNOW WHAT? I AGREE

"caleb..." "i'm here" OMYGOD AKSJHFNKVJFXKJBHVNKJDFNKBJKGFJCVN ITS THE WANGXIAN SCENE /DIES

"then let me be the only one in your life" GO MC GO

"let's leave philos and travel to the planet at the edge of deepspace" ULUR- /SHOT

ouuuu.. summer... :( thats why the intro statement thingy on the falling for you thing was like that...

SIGHS

WELL THAT WAS CUTE :(

im getting so anxious bc. shit goes down again doesnt it

CH7 HERE WE GO...

what is quantum interference

hold me im scared

OH THE LAKE BACKGROUND IS SO PRETTY I WANT TO-

WHAT

WHAT NOW

oh ok theyre just fixing the spaceship (?)

AKSHFAKKGHSDKGJ THE SLASHING MOTION ANIMATION THINGY EFFECT WHATDO YOU CALL IT. IT GIVES ME TRAUMA

anyway

:( the artificial moon...

"we might not even make it..." "it doesn't matter so long as we're together." <- IM GONNA CRYYYYYYY

UGH THEYRE SO LIKE.

THEY'RE SO LOVE WINS ALL. ITS SO. THEYRE SSSOOOOO

DEAREST DARLING MY UNIVERSE WILL YOU TAKE ME WITH YOU !!!!!!!!!1 TO SOMEWHERE FAR AWAY!!!!!!! BEYOND WILDEST DREAMS !!!!!!!!!!!!!! A PLACE IMAGINATION CAN'T REACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FURTHER AWAY FROM EARTH TO MARS !!!!!!!!!!1 WILL YOU PLEASE GO WITH MEEEE!!!!!!!!!! WHEREVER IT MAY BE, WE'LL SEARCH ENDLESSLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 WHERE LONELINESS DOESN'T EXIST !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHERE DOES THE FAULT LIE WHEN NO MATTER HOW WE TRY, IT'S YYYOUUUUU ANDDDD IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

/SOBS IN THE CORNER

CALEB CAN USE HIS EVOL TO DO THAT ?! THE WATER SOBSOB

OMYGOD :( LIKE SNOWGLOBES? THE JARS.. :(

"THIS ONE ONLY BELONGS TO US" IM GONNA THROW UP

"a magician relies on illusions. but i want to make all your wishes come true" <- don't look at me. i dissociated for a moment. and like. FOR A MOMENT. for a moment there. the way that line was delivered. was so xaviercore. KAJHFKSHDGHKSJHKJF

"yet his eyes shine as pure and bright as tonight's moonlight" THIS MYTH HAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DESCRIPTIONS OF CALEB'S EYES AND IM LIVING FOR IT

SHE'S SO IN LOVE WITH HIS EYES AKJHFSHGDJDKVF ME TOO MC. ME TOO

"THE WISH I HAVE RIGHT NOW HAS ALREADY BEEN FULFILLED" /THROWS UP

"listen... our footsteps. they sound like... they're going home." <- MIKI-CODED LINE AS FUCK

mc is so cute askjhkgsjhgkvj i wanna squeeze her

"us walking together is what feels like home" WHAT IF I SOB OMG KAJSHKGJDH MCCCCCCCC

NO WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IS THAT A PIGGYBACK RIDE IM DJGHOSDHGKJVHKSJDRHGKJ SOBBINF

the music is KILLING ME BTW

MC IS BEING SO MIKI CODED AKJSHGKJSHKJHGKDHKFJGH "I LIKE IT WHEN YOU SAY 'HOME'"

OH MY GOD

THE LET'S GO HOME LINE

that line is traumatizing wait i need to pause

isshou ni kaeru... LAJHFSGKJDGHLKSJHDGKJNVFJ

something bad is about to happen.

i can feel it.

SOMETHING BAD IS GOING TO HAPPEN THIS IS ALREADY MOVING INTO CHAPTER 8. SHIT IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN

SOMEONE HOLD ME IM TERRIFIED

/DEEP BREATHS

okok ch8....

the research reports are giving me anxiety omfg

oof...

yep, shit is about to go down

point of no return moment

"the closer they became and the more they interacted, the faster their consciousnesses degraded" OH MY GOD

"they were programmed to be the other's poison" OH MY GOD

OH MY GOD

THAT'S SO 9S2B OF YOU... HAHA... HAHA

IT ALWAYS ENDS LIKE THIS—

okay sorry ahem

"does this world have such a place?" oh... poor, poor child...

akdjfhkskfj "take care, children" bro though like sdkjfh everyone else must think theyre a naive couple in love and maybe they are. but like. AKJSHKJHSKF the idealism truly

omygod is it happening

aAKJSHFJSHDKJGHSKJDGOMYGOD WAIT WAIY WAIT

DEEP BREATHS. OK

omfg.. akjdghkjndfv

"once we're safe, i'll explain everything to you" well...

"destructive weapons with a will of their own" NIER AUTOMA-

sedate me im so sorry

AHEM

REBIRTH MENTION

"'all of them... deserve to die.' (but who are 'they?' the researchers who modified us? the rulers who crave our power? the creators who gave us this energy? or is it fate itself that's binding us in each other's shadows?)"

"EVERYTHING THAT LIVES IS DESIGNED TO END. WE ARE PERPETUALLY TRAPPED IN A NEVER-ENDING SPIRAL OF LIFE AND DEATH. IS THIS A CURSE? OR SOME KIND OF PUNISHMENT? I OFTEN THINK ABOUT THE GOD WHO BLESSED US WITH THIS CRYPTIC PUZZLE... AND WONDER IF WE'LL EVER GET THE CHANCE TO KILL HIM."

OMYGODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

SHAKINF BC THATS LITERALLY THE PROLOGUE QUOTE YYOOOOOOO

okok ahem

:( "this should have been my burden" ouh... the never-ending cycle of the glorification of self-sacrifice...

help CALEB???????? SAKJDGHKSDKGKSJHGKHVDNKFJ HE KNEW

THISSS IDIOTTTAKJSFHKSHKDGHKDHFG

BRO

"THIS IS THE LAST THING I CAN DO FOR YOU" DUDE

FUCK

A TRANSPARENT DOOR SEPARATES US ITS JUST LIKE THAT BARRIER IN THE LABORATORY BUT HE WON'T BE WAITING FOR ME ON THE OTHER SIDE THIS TIME

MY STAR HAS LEFT M—

sorry wrong myth

/CLEARS THROAT

DUDE :(((

"I FAILED YOU AS A FRIEND"

"OUR PROMISE TO REACH THE EDGES OF THE DEEPSPACE TOGETHER... I BROKE IT"

OH MY GOD

THIS IS WHY

THIS IS WHY THE LINE HE SAYS

THE I'LL NEVER LET YOU GO AGAIN

BRO

DUDE

OMFG

"MY SOUL WILL ALWAYS RESONATE WITH YOURS BECAUSE..."

"THIS IS CALEB'S FINAL GOODBYE"

DUDE

ASKDJGHLKSDFHGLKHAELSRHDGLKVJSDHFLGKVJHSLDKFJCHGVKDF ITS LIKE. LIKE. 'THE TIME I WAS ABLE TO SPEND WITH YOU, IT WAS LIKE MEMORIES OF PURE LIGHT. THANK YOU... NINE...S'

AJSHGKSHDKHGKSHJFGHDKGJHVNSKJFNGVKJDF

/GOES INSANE

OKAY.. CHAPTER 9...

EVERY REASON BEGAN AND ENDED WITH HER

GRAVITY STARTS AND ENDS WITH YOU

/THROWS UP

STOP

SHUT

AKJSHKSJDNKVHJF

"HIS SOUL RESONATED WITH HERS AGAIN AND AGAIN BECAUSE... HE LOVED HER"

KJVHCKRSK IMMMMMMMMM GONNA YELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL AT THE TOP OFFFFFMMMYYYY LUNGGGSSS

"and there he is, the one i can't bear to lose" OH MY MC

BROO IM SHAKING AKJSHVKNSKDJGHVKSDJFHNVKJDSNFKJBVNKDFGJFBK

CALEB, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK MY LIFE COULD MEAN ANYTHING WITHOUT YOU? I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN A WORLD WITHOUT YOU. NOT EVEN FOR A MOMENT.

/THROWS UP

THE WAY HE PUSHES HER AWAY IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE HER

AND SHE INSISTENTLY THROWS HERSELF AT HIM

IM GOING TO BE SO SICK

dude the

"you should visit any place you want" STOP. STOP. ITS LIKE THE MASTER OF FATE MYTH. STOP IT OMFGSKJDHVKJDNKJF

THIS IS WHERE I WANT TO BE :(((( OUGHHH MC :( MYHEART HUHU

"THE WORLD BEING DESTROYED ISN'T AS SCARY AS BEING SEPARATED FROM YOU"

WH O C A R ES IF WE DON'T SEE THE SUNSHINE EVER AGAIN

I WANT YOU MORE THAN ANY BLUE SKY

TH E W EATH E R CA N STA Y CR AZY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

/SOBS CRIES THROWS UP

NO I WONT SHUT UP ABOUT THEJAPANESE TRANSLATION IN THIS CONTEXT NOW

I CANT BELIEVE IT

NONOONONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I WANT SO BADLY FOR IT TO BE TRANSLATED THAT WAY

STOP STOP STOP

HE SAYS

HE SAYS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11 HE

WHETHER I LIVE OR I DIE, WHAT REMAINS THE TRUTH IS THAT I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO EVER AGAIN

STTOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

THEY PROMISED TO EXPLORE THE DEEPSPACE TOGETHER BUT HECHANGED HIS WORDING

IT'S NOT JUST WE WILL NEVER BE APART

IT'S THAT FROM THIS MOMENT ON !!! SOMETHING LIKE THAT !!! LIKE HIM LEAVING !!! LIK EHE JUST DID !!!! HE'S NEVER GOINF TO DO IT AGAIN

OHMYYGGODDDDDDDD

SOBBINF TRHWOING UP THE K I S S

oh... OH.. my god....

"immortality meant the end of progress"

SHUT UP

AN OBJECT IN MOTION STAYS IN MOTION UNLESS ACTED UPON BY AN EXTERNAL FORCE-

ONCE YOU'RE OFF THE GROUND, THE ONLY WAY IS FORWARD

"TESTAMENT TO THE ENDLESS CYCLE OF REBIRTH"

REBIRTH MENTION

TH AT' S MY PHOENIX RI GHT THE R E

/SOBS CRIES IN THE FUCKING CORNER

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Night Queen and the Frozen Plague.

I had to do a wee bit of tinkering to the GoT lore, namely that the White Walkers can speak beyond those eerie death cries we all know and love. But here, as promised, mostly for my Sharkie, some Brynhild and Heavenerys!

The sound of his roar fractured the still of the air, the great army of the dead all halting at their queen’s command, Brynhild looking to the sky.

“Southern enemies, my queen,” hissed Craxor, her general. Half skeleton, half rotting flesh, turning his sunken face skyward as he viewed the beast who cast a shadow over the frozen wasteland. 

“Not enemies,” she whispered, her glowing, azure eyes picking out the dragon circling overhead, through the thick of the snow clouds. ”Heavenerys Targaryen and her dragon. At last, she has heard my call. She has come home.”  

The curse of the cold had come to pass, the first-born, pure-blooded child of King Amarys Targaryen blighted by it, as she surely would be. An ill-advised trip north of the wall had led to the ancestral curse landing squarely upon the child, Havenerys born with the mark of the dead. One look into her piercing eyes, and Amarys had seen it, his soul filled with dread.  

Therein born to him and his queen, was the downfall of man. The Night Queen would call for her one day, and his precious girl would answer. 

Kairaxès began his descent from the sky, the snow swirling in tempestuous storms beneath the whoosh of his huge, white wings, shaking the ground he landed upon. The army waited, thousands of wights in amongst a battalion of white walkers, all standing poised. Dead men lain to waste, with no other purpose than to serve their immortal queen. 

Brynhild moved on her tattered, giant black steed, the haggard creature propelled forward on shattered fetlocks, ribbons of decayed flesh floating hauntingly in the breeze. Only she advanced, her army waiting, Heavenerys taking them all in as she dismounted and climbed down to the floor, stroking her dragon’s face.  

“All is well, my beautiful beast,” she spoke at his warning rattles. “They are unlike all we know, but they pose us no harm.” She wasn’t too sure why it was that she intrinsically knew that, but she did. She felt it on a level much deeper than the very last roots of her soul.  

The Night Queen slowed her mount, bringing him to a stop and jumping down to her feet, walking the remaining way to where the Targaryen stood.  

“Welcome to the northern wastes,” Brynhild stated, her voice like a whispered death rattle, sending a slight chill through Heavenerys. She was beyond other worldly, the power radiating from her unlike anything she had ever felt. She watched the ancient queen spear her long, white lance into the frozen ground beneath her feet, eyeing her with the same curiosity. She was all Brynhild had foreseen she would be.  

“I felt I had to come to you, but I do not know why,” she spoke, her sharp, angular face set, staring as the queen slowly approached. 

“You know exactly why, Heavenerys. For justice. For revenge.” The fire of recognition danced in her eyes, the young Targaryen finally feeling heard by somebody. “To wrong those who have wronged you. Amos. Aerthurys. To rain fire and ice upon your enemies, to all those who have harmed you. I believe they call it Valar Morghulis in your mother tongue.” 

Heavenerys nodded, yet her face still questioned. “But why was it, that I felt you call out to me? Why was it you, here in a land where I do not belong?” 

“From me you came, and to me you return, child.”  

At those words, she felt her blood chill to freeze. “I am not a child.”  

Brynhild lifted her chin. “When I am older than time itself, you are very much a child.” She felt it in the air, the waves of cold, foreboding magic, magic not to make an impact. “And your sorcery cannot charm me. Save that. It has its place, it’s intended use.”  

“I cannot if you intend to make me like them,” she spoke, her finger pointing out to the white walkers, Brynhild turning to view her generals. 

“No, which is why I do not intend to. You returning to me was always for a purpose beyond your own. I need you, to make a pathway for us. For my army. For our army. Only with you can I break down the wall and march on Westeros.” 

Many summers and winters would pass, before the final dreadful cold of great north arrived. On that day, Heavenerys flew the great Kairaxès back across the wall, his frozen flames decimating the fortitude, his rider’s magic breaking it further.  

Together, the Frozen Plague and the Night Queen brought their army forth into Westeros.  

Winter is here.  

Valar Marghulis.  

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