crescent-moonly

[cabeswaterdrowned]

Harryanthe and Mistynat are so similar to me like what if you took the worst blonde lesbian in the world and had her be absolutely obsessed with the brunette who’s sopping wet cat energy bewitches every sapphic nearby. Destined to hold those women in their arms while they hallucinate phantom bitches instead of said blondes

[pretzel-box]

STREAMER AU MASTERLIST HERE

VIDEO FOR THE SCENE HERE

[Including Sebs VA and Fanart]

CHAPTER 7: A bottle full of confidence

Tags: Romance, Apologies, Painter

Words: 2,6k

The rain started softly, a misty drizzle that clung to the air, but soon it picked up, the droplets heavier, more insistent. They drenched Sebastian, soaking through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. He hadn’t brought a jacket—hadn’t even thought about it when he stormed out. Now, he was at the mercy of the weather, as if it were punishing him for everything that had gone wrong.

God, he couldn’t go back to Painter’s shop. Not after what happened. The image burned into his mind—the sight of Allison in that expensive red dress, Painter standing beside her in his fine suit, the camera focused on them, ready for a confession that wasn’t meant to be his. The scene felt like a knife to his chest, twisting deeper with every thought.

Sebastian felt his stomach turn, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He had been on the edge for too long, teetering between anger and regret, and now... now it was all unraveling. The rain didn’t bother him, not compared to the storm inside. It pained him to admit it, but he hated himself for letting things get this far. For not saying anything when he should have. For letting you drift away.

He turned around abruptly, his hands curling into tight fists, his nails digging sharply into his palms. The sting felt almost good, a distraction from the ache in his chest. But he knew it wouldn’t last. Nothing would, until he found you.

Because you were the only one who mattered.

He had to look for you. He had to find you before it was too late. Before everything he feared became reality. The rain pounded harder, but it didn’t matter. He’d face the storm, he’d face anything, as long as it led him back to you.

Meanwhile, Painter stood face to face with Allison, an uncharacteristic smug grin curling on his usually soft lips. His gaze, once neutral, now held a new edge—disgust, pride, and something darker. In that moment, he unknowingly mirrored his father, a sharpness in his demeanor that felt foreign but fitting.

"You probably want to leave," he said coolly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Or do you have anything else to say?" There was a hidden venom in his words, a quiet power that made even Cordelia, standing silently at his side, flinch. It was a side of him no one had seen before.

Allison blinked, her face a mixture of shock, fury, and utter defeat. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected Painter to stand up to her with such cold confidence. She looked like she wanted to scream, to tear him apart with words, but all that came out was a feeble, angry attempt.

"I—I will sue you. All of you," she shouted, her voice breaking as she stormed toward the door, rain already pouring down outside.

Painter didn’t flinch, didn’t move to stop her. He simply watched, his expression unchanging as she stepped out into the storm, swallowed by the rain. The shop fell into silence, leaving him alone with Cordelia, who looked at him with wide eyes, still processing what had just happened.

For a moment, Painter felt the weight of it all—the shift in himself, the control he’d just taken back. And though it felt strange, there was also a sense of liberation, of standing taller, of being more than just what others thought of him.

After a few seconds of standing still, Painter moved with a quiet determination, walking around the corner to rummage under the counter. From the shadows of the cramped space, he pulled out an old bottle, dust gathering on the glass. It was some alcoholic drink, a leftover from the last store anniversary that he’d all but forgotten. Normally, he wasn’t the type to drink—he preferred keeping his mind clear—but today, after everything, he felt like he deserved a little indulgence.

He twisted off the cap and took a long, satisfying sip, the burn spreading through his chest in a way that felt oddly comforting.

"You have alcohol here?" Cordelia asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she eyed the bottle.

Painter didn’t respond right away. Instead, he took another sip, savoring the moment, letting the weight of the day slowly ease from his shoulders. Finally, he glanced at her, his expression still cool, but the sharpness in his eyes had softened.

“Mind lending me your phone?” he asked, his voice calm as ever. “Mine’s dead.” He stretched out his hand, still holding the bottle in the other, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Cordelia blinked, a little taken aback by his nonchalance, but after everything that had just happened, she wasn’t about to argue. She fished her phone from her pocket, handing it over without a word, watching him with quiet curiosity. It was rare to see Painter like this—so unbothered, so confident in his control. And though she didn’t fully understand what was going on, she couldn’t help but feel a strange admiration for the man standing before her.

She gave him her phone and he instantly started tapping on the screen before lifting the device up to his ears.

You stood at the bus stop, drenched by the relentless downpour, your clothes clinging to your skin as the cold seeped in. The sky above was a solid sheet of grey, no break in the clouds, no sign of the rain letting up anytime soon. You sighed, tilting your head back to watch the rain for a moment, lost in thought.

Suddenly, your phone rang, pulling you out of your trance. The screen lit up with an unknown caller ID. For a moment, you hesitated, but curiosity won over, and you answered.

“Hello?” you said cautiously.

“Hi! Uhm—this is Painter, the tech guy! The one from the store with your laptop? I hope you remember.” His familiar voice rang out, soft and a little nervous, the same cute, nerdy tone that you remembered instantly.

A smile tugged at your lips despite the rain. “Hey! Of course, I remember,” you replied, your voice warm. “I’m surprised you're calling so soon. Is everything okay with my laptop?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and you could almost imagine him pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a habit you'd noticed the first time you met him. “Yeah, yeah, your laptop is fine. I just… I wanted to check in. You know, see how you're doing,” he added, sounding almost shy, as if calling you wasn't planned.

The rain continued to fall around you, but suddenly, it didn’t feel as cold anymore.

“Checking on me? Because I don’t have a laptop?” you asked, a confused smile forming as a soft giggle escaped you. It wasn’t often someone checked in on you, let alone for something like this. You could hear Painter shifting on the other end, as though fighting off a wave of nerves. There was a sound in the background—a faint slosh, like liquid passing through a bottle.

“Well, not to get too personal… but apparently, I accidentally discovered your identity, Jelly.”

Your heart froze, the rain momentarily fading into the background as his words sank in.

You stayed silent, the weight of what he said hanging in the air.

“And I figured you haven’t seen it yet, but… all you need to know is…” He paused, the sound of liquid again. “Listen, now that everything is sorted out, you don’t need to be on edge anymore. I’ve got your back, and Sebastian does too. No, no—don’t thank me. I’m just helping a friend in need—”

The line went dead. Just like that.

You stared at your phone, still processing what had just happened. He knew. Painter had discovered your identity—probably from your laptop. The same secret you’d fought so hard to keep hidden. Your pulse quickened, a mixture of panic and confusion swirling inside you.

But there was more. He said Sebastian had your back now, too. What did that mean? How did Sebastian get involved? And why did Painter end the call so abruptly, just when you had a thousand questions racing through your mind?

You stood there in the rain, more lost than ever, the cold creeping back in as the drops pelted down on you. What did Painter know? What had he done? And most importantly—what did Sebastian have to do with any of this?

Suddenly, you heard footsteps behind you, before someone pulled roughly on your shoulder, forcing you to turn around.

"Listen. Listen!" It was Sebastian. He stood there, completely drenched, his hair sticking to his face, and his eyes were wide with desperation, on the verge of tears. "I can explain."

His voice cracked as he continued, "I was so stupid, and there's no excuse for it." His hands trembled slightly as he spoke. "I should have known it was you. Not Allison."

Before you could respond, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. His body shook with quiet sobs, his face buried in your shoulder, and for the first time, you heard a raw, unfamiliar sound of pain coming from him. The roommate you used to find so irritating, the streamer you secretly had a crush on, was now just a man crying in the rain, completely vulnerable in your arms.

"You can hate me all you want," he whispered, his voice breaking. "God, you can even hit me if that'll make it better. Jelly, please, listen."

Sebastian, the one who always seemed so self-assured, was apologizing. Genuinely. Desperately.

"You’ve grown so important to me during these months," he continued, his words choked with emotion. "And I can’t lose you. Not again. Please, forgive me."

His arms tightened around you, holding you as if you might slip away any second, disappear into the rain. You could feel his fear, the way his body clung to yours like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

"I love you too much," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain, but heavy with all the feelings he had been holding back. "I love you more than anything."

The rain kept falling, but all you could focus on was the man holding onto you like his life depended on it.

You only managed to nod, your voice caught somewhere between your heart and throat, unsure if you were ready to forgive him. Yes, you felt something for him—deeply—but it was a chaotic mix of love, hate, anxiety, and paranoia. Sebastian had cut a gaping wound into your emotions, and now he seemed to believe he could mend it with a simple apology and a half-baked confession.

“Let’s talk about it at home,” you mumbled quietly, your voice barely above the sound of the rain. “Not here. Not yet.”

You didn’t reject him outright, no. But you weren’t ready to offer forgiveness either. You simply pushed the conversation to another time, another place—somewhere quieter, where your thoughts might stop racing long enough to sort through the mess he’d made of your heart.

But the confusion lingered, heavy and overwhelming. What had really happened? How had things spiraled so far out of control between you two? You glanced at him, his grip on you tightening as though he feared you’d slip away, but you couldn’t meet his eyes, not yet. There were too many questions, too much hurt and uncertainty.

As the rain continued to pour, you wondered if there was a way forward—or if this was the beginning of an even greater storm between the two of you.

“I'll meet you at home.” That's what you told him. He let go with a nod, wiping away his tears with his wet arm. “You're not coming?” You could hear the pain in his voice, scared of your answer.

“I will, but…I forgot something. Promise I will come back.”

Sebastian took your answer while the bus pulled up, he gave you one last glance before stepping in, leaving you in the rain.

Then you were alone again, ready to face Painter to soothe your confusion. Whatever had happened was something that Painter knew off. And you hoped to catch the man before he would leave the store.

Painter had reached the bottom of the bottle, and it hit him harder than he anticipated. The dull buzz in his head drowned out not just his anxiety and nervousness but also his usual sharp, logical thinking. Cordelia had left earlier, convinced he was sober enough to handle himself, unaware that he had drained the last of the bottle like it was water. Now, he leaned heavily against the counter, the world around him tilting slightly.

When you appeared, rushing toward the glass door, knocking with urgency, he blinked, momentarily disoriented. Your drenched figure stood outside, hair soaked and confusion written all over your face.

He stumbled forward, the empty bottle quickly hidden behind the counter as he fumbled with the lock. Opening the door, his gaze softened the moment he saw you.

“Ah, Jelly,” he hummed, his voice slurred ever so slightly. His cheeks flushed with warmth, not just from the alcohol but at the sight of you standing there, even in the rain, looking adorable despite the circumstances.

He smiled, a little too wide, his usual calm demeanor slipping as he tried to maintain his composure. “You… you look good, even like this,” he added, his words coming out with a surprising level of affection. The alcohol had loosened his tongue, and he wasn’t entirely in control of what he was saying anymore.

But there you were, drenched and confused, and he couldn’t stop himself from admiring you even in this chaotic moment.

“What happened?” you asked, though your mind was partially distracted by how he looked. The expensive aftershave lingered in the air, and his fine suit clung to his frame. The first few buttons were undone, offering a glimpse of his chest that made it hard to focus on anything else.

Painter, a bit dazed but composed, reached for your cold hand, gently pulling you behind the counter. “Let me show you. I fixed your laptop,” he said softly. His hand lingered in yours a moment too long before he led you to a small chair. He stood behind you like a shadow, his presence warm and heavy, as he clicked a few keys.

The screen lit up with a rewind of today’s stream, every moment captured in perfect clarity. You watched in silence, the weight of what happened sinking in. The confession, the setup—everything clicked into place in a way you hadn’t expected. When the video ended, the two of you stood there, caught in the stillness of the moment. Painter didn’t say anything at first, waiting for your reaction, but you just stared at the screen, processing.

“Honestly speaking,” he started, breaking the silence, “Sebastian doesn’t deserve you. You’re funny, sweet, caring, and witty.” His voice was laced with sincerity as he spoke, listing your traits as though he were describing something sacred.

He hesitated, but continued, “He’s my friend, you know? But he was never the smart one.”

You slowly turned in your seat, meeting his gaze as he continued to speak.

“It probably sounds stupid, but I’m jealous of my own best friend.”

That’s when you noticed it—the empty bottle on the floor, hidden just behind the counter. The faint smell of alcohol mixed with the aftershave. You leaned in closer, trying to confirm your suspicions, inhaling the scent to be sure.

But before you could fully piece everything together, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was unexpected, soft and lingering, filled with all the words he hadn’t said, the ones he was too afraid or too drunk to admit outright. His hand cupped your face gently, as if you might pull away any second, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in, letting every feeling he’d bottled up pour out in that one impulsive moment.

[blkgirl-writing]

So. Technically... the Revivify spell only works for one minute after death.

Begging for a piece where Gale sees Tav go down in combat, everyone is fighting for their lives, meanwhile he's across the battlefield, fighting his hardest to get closer and feeling the minute they have to revive Tav slipping away...

Gale x Fem!reader

"Cold to the touch"

I have never finished a request so fast I'll be honest. This is so heartbreaking but absolutely amazing.

Tags and TWs: angst, a bit funny, some detailed graphic violence and blood, Gale in denial lowkey.

-

Sometimes the fights you picked should have been fights evaded

"Gale, go!" you screeched, seconds before the killing blow you your chest, blood rapidly pooling around your feet, too much blood, you whispered as you looked down with blurring vision, clutching at your skin, trying to stop the bleeding, even for a second. The last bit of your strength used to look back up at gale, and smile. your body thudded to the ground, completely and utterly lifeless.

Gale blinked. The wind knocked out of him like he was hit with a battering ram. He fractically looked around, who was close? no one. Astarion was high on the rooftop, Wyll and Karlach surrounded with no way out, everyone on the brink of death themselves. Lae'zel the furthest and least likely to help. That just left-

"Shadowheart? Shadowheart, HEAL HER!"

"I'm fresh out of spells-" Shadowheart yelled, looking back at your limp body. "I think...She's past anything I can do right now, anyway."

Gale's gaze went down to his own hands, the revive in his pocket, how many things were around him, and how much strength he really did have. Your body was getting cold, soul leaving body, time was of the essence.

"damn it" he whispered, squeezing his eyes tightly closed, concentrating on making sure he wouldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. If the thoughts of your beautiful life absent from the rest of his miserable one crept up, he'd be paralyzed, he simply could not dwell on the bleak future. "ok"

Gale forced himself forward, nearly slipping immediately and cursing himself. Running. if he wasn't out of all the magic he could muster he could simply misty step. Instead he was forced to make his way little by little while watching the last of life slip from you as the reality set in. He couldn't get to you in time. He needed to save himself and the others if there was any hope of even bringing your corpse to have a proper burial. He had to topple goblins and just stare feet away from you as your magic slipped permanently away from this world. Helpless, and tearful.

-

He wanted to cover you up. Clothes ripped open from your wounds, he didn't want you to feel exposed. Though, he knew you weren't feeling anything at all. But he had nothing. Once again failing himself and you when he felt you most needed it.

"There....there has to be something we can do" he held your freezing and damp hand in his own warm ones. Enemies blood pooled with your own,. the fight was won, but it truly felt wrong to say those words. He had been brushing your hair out of your eyes while the others gathered around. They'd been the furthest, so Gale had gotten precious moments alone. Muttering sentances he didn't finish. About how he had failed you. About what could have been. Maybe an I love you had fallen from his lips, but it didn't matter anymore, not if he could never hear the words he so wanted to hear back from you, from your own sweet voice.

"I don't know, I....I'm so sorry, Gale." Shadowheart softly touched gales back for a moment of comfort and caring that was so rare for her. that's how he knew it was real. "I know you cared."

I know you cared. He didn't know why those words were his breaking point, but he suddenly felt water dripping down his face. Silent tears rushing down his race. "I truly did."

"We will find a way, Gale. Have hope." Wyll crouched beside Gale on the ground. "I don't think we can do this without her."

"I'll bring her back. Somehow." Gale nodded, finally tearing his gaze away from you. Everyone stood around your corpse. Everyone with the same, grim look. Though, Wyll just looked...sad, sadness for Gales pain, and for the senseless loss of another.

Gale had to get you back to get you comfortable in camp. You couldn't stay here. Not for animals to ravage.

"I'll get her to camp for you, Gale. Don't ware yourself out" Karlach effortlessly hoisted your body over her shoulder. Gale gathered the items that dropped from your pockets on the ground, covered in grime and blood. But he simply wiped it away. He didn't want you to have to clean it off later. He'd worry about the red stains on his fingers and blotches on his clothes later. He just had to worry about getting you back, and never losing you again.

-

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@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray

[nerdgal27]

A Story Behind the Painting

Home

Summary:

Part 4 of (Mikey and Me Part 3), (It Happened Again Part 2), and (Don't Want to Talk Part 1). Struggle after struggle. There comes a time when the inner demon destroys so much, that one doesn't know what else to do. Other than keep the inner demon from loved ones.

Tags: Substance Abuse, Depression, Flashbacks, and Abuse.

Home 

Sunshine dapples the deep green forest. Burn the late morning dew glittering jewels in mid air. Coffee mug in hand black liquid slosh onto cold fingers as I wobble down the tiny staircase of the camper pickup truck. An old rust bucket is the last bit of my savings can afford. 

Sit on a lazy afternoon in a cozy chair. Stare at the endless view of evergreen pines and misty gray mountains is worth it all. Take in the cool sweet wood scent of green fill sore lungs. Swivel chair further away from an old gravel path. Wind over the lush undergrowth. Where customary rodents cover last night's tracks. Eat the empty nut shells and left over trail mix I left for them. Can’t stomach to eat anything again. What’s the point now?

Shield away by Mother Nature’s warmth and green walls. Her sweet melody chirps and whispers in the silence. The sticky sun glues me under the camper cobweb awning. Spiders big enough to play the banjo. Thought grows a chuckle to who said that once. Forever gone away in the forever distance. All for the best. For everyone. For them most of all. 

Free from pain, from it all. It has been done. No need to know the outside world. Can almost imagine it all. Not now. No need to think about any of that at all. Other than wonder how hot this coffee is for me to sip. 

Deep rich aroma takes me away from the pines. Old giggles bounce from concrete walls. Sparks spray in all directions mingles the smell with old metal. When muddle hands rub black grease over my eyebrow. Old scooter parts vomit all over the floor. A victim to be torn apart, rebuilt to either drive faster. Or explode. 

Phone rings memories back to green and soft blue reality. Muffle in the far depths of the 1967 brown and green camper. Can’t be right, I shut it off last night. 

Crawl back into the sauna brown dungeon. Follow the ringtone to the front. Weave over the hot tea water bottles on the fuzzy floor. Brush last night’s debris aside in the trap of doom between the front seat. Bright pink old life shivers in a frenzy. 

I shouldn’t turn the phone over to see the screen. This needs to be my new life now. Can’t go back anyways. How can I like this? How can anyone? Doing this for them. An glove box that only opens and closes by a swift kick is a good place to bury it all away. Turn off all of the past in orange velvet darkness. Leave it all tucked away. Return to the fresh sirene new life. 

Canadian geese honk over the tall tree peaks. The way the flock swoops down a long terrain down from blue skies and feather clouds. Sunrays beam grasshopper hisses mid day summer heat. Follow the distant honks and splash. A cool lake lap over dry cracked feet sounds perfect. Clear this heavy head of mine. 

Wander back inside. Cool worn out duds for lake water. Cold beer in hand, tuck comfy chair under my arm. A handful of fluorescent pink tags roll in hand. Nice way to return to my new home without getting lost. Wait for another set of geese to flutter above. Lead the way out of the hot sun. Weave between the trees. Step over tree root monsters. Smile at the odd bird or animal hops by. 

“We don’t keep secrets, right?”

I whisper to the memories. “No, you don’t.” 

Another voice in the dream rasp. “He still loves you.” 

He shouldn’t, neither should any of you. Too broken, not enough. Difficult. 

Out here. All are no different than any woodland creatures from the largest moose to the small voles scurry by. What is worse, to remember the words. Or the subtle silence of the first night when all of this began. A sink full of awful empty decisions. The oldest brother’s quiet gaze. Patterns flourish in the forest around me. Bright shapes shimmer all that is long gone behind me. Nothing wrong with a cold one in hand on a hot day. 

Besides, take in all of this. A wide dark turquoise green lake. Full of life. A single loon lone coo along with the tiny dots of geese in the water. Soft gentle slopes into sand and clay. Show evidence of deer were here moments ago. 

He misses you that’s all 

One’s voice. Does he?… Of course he does. How could he not? Everyone else knows. 

Sit down in the chair. Set down the last 3 cans of a 6 pack. Miraculous 3 survivors of a drunk blackout yesterday. Crack open heaven. Slide it down the fire throat. Feel it burn over it all. Take in this brand new peaceful life of quiet. Should bring out a couple fishing poles for tonight. If I remember to come back for them. Can’t go back to anything nowadays. 

When will I see you? 

My old self. When my voice had more life. 

Soon, Sweetheart, it will be like old times. 

There’s a reason why they are called old times. It was a good life. A loud life, somewhat chaotic. The endless laughs, pile ons, pushing around. Plastic cockroaches in cupboards, glitter in ninja smoke bombs. One time Mikey and I replaced Raphael’s shower gel for blue dye. Guy was a grumpy Smurf for 4 days. His grouchy growls. The wooden spoon in papa turtle Smurf’s hand. Mikey ran for his life. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Wash over the more recent screams and pushes away. Even more of the dark and bleek. 

When closet doors rattle. Whisky bottles smash in the far distance- 

No. Not again. Never speak of it again. None of that ever happened. 

Water swishes numb ankles. Whirl to baby ducks splash nearby. Over work, Mother of 6 squacks her children to behave and paddle behind her. Chuckles at their little feet blur under the clear water. Match the same speed of their cotton ball wings. Can remember when Mikey used to run the same way. Anytime Donnie chases Mikey out of his lab. Sometimes so then Donnie and I could play science and pupil again. 

Water waves between my toes. Shallow parts warm from the sun. Heat numb limbs. Swallow back to boiling hot water. Scorch delicate young skin.

Mommy it’s too hot. 

No…stop

Screams echo. Blister scar. Bare to the summer heat. Every single one remembers every pain. Why did I wear this tank top? Why am I out here? Can’t stay.

Hands stick on to lawn chair. Water waves slosh against the sandy ridge. Small legs kick. Hot water splashes everywhere. Hands shove deep under water. 

Sweetheart, breathe…

Violet voice whispers. Take his invisible hands. Squeeze them. The way he told me to. No thumb rubs my hands. Take in all of the cool fresh pine. Have to get used to this alone. Least this way is the best. No one’s burden any more. Can pick up this lawn chair anytime. 

Wander back the pink flag trail. Lose myself to millions of songs birds and butterflies flutter by. Brush soft long grass under fingers as I go. Crisp fresh air. Think about what bait to use for food tonight. Another thing I will have to start getting used to. 

Yellow happy face atena swings in between shrubs. Wave me down the direction home. Swig the last bit of powerful robust dark beer. Ignite pain away in a smooth burn. Drown darkness where they belong. 

Soft breeze hushes the forest buzz. Breathe in strong bitter fuel knocks the taste of beer. Great animal growls a deep hungry growl. Take me back to a cool violet room. To a lab chair and elastic bands for hair tying. 

“Sweetheart!?”

 Old life hollars me dead frozen in the tall grass. Hidden behind thick honeysuckles. The low hanging tree branches block the meadow opening of my new home. Don’t need to see how close the voice is. Can hear his feet crunch back and forth in the gravel. Rusty truck doors whine open and slam shut. Yellow smiley atena whirs in a hyperactive spaz. Empty cans clang on the far away floor board. Fast in a frantic, more than the time he caught Mikey in his mutagen supply. 

Footsteps wobble in the far depths of camper sweet camper. No.

He can’t be here. No one can find me like this.  I did this for them. They need to stay away from me. Far from any ear shot here. Can drop everything and run. Spin to do so. Lungs leap to jump for the hot pink trail back to the lake. 

Get back here! 

Hot greasy hand clap thunder. Drop the entire lazy afternoon supply. Oh crap no! Don’t drop them.

Metal chair legs clang against beer cans. 

Shallow gasp in the wind. Pushes me faster down the trail. Teenage bare feet pound thistles and burrs I weaved around before. 

Child bare feet blur down a hallway. Slam the bedroom door shut. 

“Tessie, wait!” 

Oh shit! Dammit! All the curse words Mikey should never hear. He found me. Faster down the hill. Over the log. Reach for the ridge. Follow the open blue sky between the evergreen trunks. 

Slip under fast large hands. Hardwood scraps small bare knees. Away from him. Away from the man. Go go go. 

Feet hush to the quiet breeze and soft rainfall of leaves. The broken footpath behind me, bare. Maybe turned back to the shellraiser for something. No matter. Least I can slow down, and lungs can breathe. 

Leaves rustle ahead. Green blur drops from above. Dead in his tracks. The tall slender turtle raises his hands and snatches me. Should have known. Been raised by ninjas for Pete sake. 

Jerk arms in his grip. Swallow the rock down. 

“Donnie, what are you doing here? Let me go.”

Sink away from his gaze. Loosen his grip to one hand on my arm. 

He pants, “I’m not here to fight, and I should be the one asking you the same question.” 

Rip his hand off me. No point in running. His long legs follow behind down the path. As I pick up the lawn chair. 

“No phone call, no note, do you know what I found in that camper?” His feet pound behind. 

Pick up what’s left of the 6 pack. Dangle the last 2 cans yet to be drank. No point in hiding it now. Plus he said he’s not here to fight. There’s no need to answer. Lanky green hands rip the plastic rings. 

“Hey!”

Whirl back to the two cans soar into the forest. Shove Donnie back. 

“What the hell was that for? That stuff ain’t cheap.” 

He towers over me. Loom a dark shadow over. Calm eyes narrow into deep violet slits. Deepens his sharp tongue. 

“Do you know how long I drove to find you,

How long we’ve been looking for you?” 

Step out of his shadow. Continue down the path into the sunlight. Home sweet home lies ahead. 

Shrug as I go, “You didn’t have to. Just decided to take a trip, that's all, what’s wrong with that?”  

Old life lingers in the shadows. Listen to teeth grit splinters. Boy did he skip coffee? Why is he hear anyway. Everyone knows so what’s the point?

Set the lawn chair back under the shade of a hunter's green awning. Since Mr. Grumpy in the corner threw a good set of cans. Guess I’ll have to get more. Crawl back inside the brown velvet coffin. Weave over the thrown cans on the floor. Guess I’ll have to clean this soon. The camper door slams shut. 

“I wouldn’t shut that, unless you want to melt.” I speak to the ghost by the door. 

Silence. Gonna be civil now. Want to burn holes through my head? Go on, do it. Everyone else is gone, why should anything matter. Open the mini fridge. To an endless supply of bottles, cans, and what I forgot most. Leaps off the shelves, plop to the fuzzy floor. 

Oh shit. 

“…what is that?” 

He’s the brainiac and yet he’s asking me? Should be pretty obvious by the label. Let his long legs weave around me. Take a bag from the fridge. I Crack open a cold one. Fire burns down all those dark heavy nights. Think back to all of the colorful waves last night.

“…T-this…” 

Leave him in the camper. Let him figure it out himself. Wasn’t supposed to be here to begin with. Might as well read what brand I use, for what? Who knows. 

Set the can in the lawn chair. Camper door shuts, no slam? Weird. Shouldn’t he be furious or something? 

Been standing there for a while. Turn to him at the metal steps. Shaded from the hot sun. Bag shivers in between his fingers. Lost to the horizon. That I’ve seen thousands of times in his brown eyes. His internal gears whir. He never looks like this unless…

“You do know, right?” 

Silence answers. The deep rise and fall of his chest. He sinks down to the flatten tall grass. Let the bag fall between his fingers. A look I make when I wake up from a nightmare. Before I would run straight to his bedroom. 

Set the can away. How? What?! 

Rise up from the old seat. I ask, “The guys never told you?” 

Rise from his palms, bambi eyes round wide, “They know about this?!” 

“Well…yeah”- 

“How long?” He mutters, waiting for an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Take a step away from his ember coals glow. Shrug an answer, “I thought you knew, how can everyone else know but you Donnie, you know every inch of the city.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” He shoots from the ground. Bury me in his height, “You never call or text me anymore, and then leave the city to who knows where, does Mikey know?!” 

Mikey. Golden sun, white dust particles float over the sweet turtle. Bath in old and new sunlight. Breathe that old dry air of that lazy morning. 

Nod in silence. Hoarse throat stops all words Heavy numb limbs drag back inside the brown coffin. Large queen size mattress at the back. Warm by the sun. Shut all of the curtains away. Curl all away in a ball. Close away from all life. This is not what is supposed to happen. 

“Sweetheart?” Footsteps wobble the camper. 

No answer. Feel the camper sink down with him. Warmth touches my arch back, soft thumb rubs me to the old cool lab. All those years ago. 

“What are your plans for being out here?” He whispers. 

No, he already knows now. He can’t know about this too. It will crush him. Shiver under his soft palm. There’s no going back. I’ve made this decision. Already caused enough problems as it is. First Leo. How it all turned Raph down into this dark hole. Times I’ve picked him up because of what I’ve done. Tried to fix it all for Mikey. Tried to be happy for Mikey. Yet…I am here. This is what I deserve. Donnie shouldn’t even be here. Why is he still here?

Weight shifts the mattress. Warmth drapes behind all along against me. His long arm slides around me. Pull me back tight against his beating heart. Donnie’s muzzle nestles deep into my shoulder. It doesn't take much for him to know. 

Brush back strands from my cheek. 

He whispers, “You don’t deserve to go through this alone.” 

Roll in his arms. Drown myself into this chest I’ve missed so much all night long. Muzzle in his sweet scent and warmth. Squeeze all pain in his tight arms. 

I shake, “I-I Don’t kn-know… if I can go back, big brother, I-I’m too broken. No one should be stuck with me”- 

Soft lips plant firm silence my heavy forehead. 

“You are never too broken, it’s okay to have space for a while when you need it.” His deep voice murmurs in my ear. 

Cling on to his belt. The same way when I was small. Take me back to the memories. Away from all of this. Let all of the pain drip onto his chest. Choke on my words.

As my brainiac brother traces slow circles on my back. Sweet rich coffee fills my world. Over the fresh pine. More warm than the summer hot sun. A soft sigh quells more than the lone loon. I am back home. This is home. Safe. Can hide here as long as I need. 

 He whispers, “I will stay for as long as you need me, little pupil.” 

Bit through all the painful tears to fall. That roll down my brother’s chest. Yesterday I was in darkness. Tomorrow, who knows where I will be. For now I am with Donatello. My close friend, my big brother.

I am home. 

[acealonsowrites]

Subaru Mini Fic

My first official post on Tumblr AHH! So, true to my bio, I am a writer but I've never written fan fiction so please bear with me. I've been playing Tokyo Debunker for about a month or so now and I've had some headcanons and fic ideas just itching at my brain that I can no longer suppress. So I'll stop my yapping and let y'all get on to the story.

Pairing: MC/Reader x Subaru Kagami

Tags: SFW. Slight-ish(?) angst, misunderstanding, Subaru's all-around oblivious. Sorta mean Frostheim gen students. Ends in fluff.

Summary: When Subaru receives a confession letter asking him to meet up in person, all signs point to it being from you. Unsure of his feelings, Haku and Zenji encourage him to go for it, but will you be the one to show up at the Ethereal Spring?

It was another misty day in Hotarubi when you set foot into the all-too-familiar Japanese garden. The rain lightly dusted your face as you made your way to the front steps. You hadn't actually expected to visit Hotarubi today so your umbrella was still tucked away into some forgotten corner of your closet. Upon entering, you were met with a few lingering general students. They took the time to bow and greet you properly before going about their day, most likely on their way to their afternoon classes. You finally caught sight of the vice-captain, Haku, standing in the corridor right in front of what you had come to know as the reception room. His slitted eyes met yours, clearly as surprised to see you as you were to be there. He waved you over, opening the door to the reception room and waiting for you to walk in.

"Ah, MC. I didn't know you were coming over today. Is it another mission or did you just miss me?" He wordlessly handed you a towel, ushering you to sit down and dry yourself. His hands worked fast to prepare tea and sweets for the both of you. You ruffled through your bag, so focused on finding that envelope you missed Haku's question. "So, what brings you to Hotarubi, MC," he tried once more for your attention.

"Oh, sorry," you apologized as you finally felt your hands graze a papery texture far thicker than the other slips of discarded mission assignments and study guides that were scattered along your bag. "Mail delivery!"

Haku stared at the letter in your hands as he set two plates in front of you, one holding your tea and the other Haku's sweet pick of the day which happened to resemble the mochi he had served you on your first day at Hotarubi. "Seriously? They're really making you work hard, huh? I didn't realize that was part of your job as inspector."

"Neither did I," you said as an aside, "but this wasn't a Darkwick assignment. More like a general student pulled me aside to do this for her. I don't remember for sure but I think she was from Frostheim...," you trailed off as you took a bite of the mochi, a slight hint of caramel entering your mouth. "This is delicious, Haku, thank you! Anyways, where's Zenji and Subaru? I was sure my entrance would be accompanied by the sound of a biwa."

Haku leaned his chin on his hand, his elbow propped on the table in front of his own teacup. "Subaru should be somewhere around here, probably in his room, but I've already sent him a message on WickChat to let him know you're here. I'm sure he's rushing to come greet you as we speak. As for Zenji, I haven't seen him in about an hour but I remember him saying something about going to the lake for some inspiration. So, who's the letter for?" He pointed at the blank envelope, now resting near your hand. You paused, wracking your brain for a second.

"Oh! I was in such a rush to get here I forgot to address it. But, if I remember correctly, it's for Subaru."

Just then, Subaru opened the door to the reception room. Unlike your first time in Hotarubi, the captain was wearing his Darkwick uniform. You were pretty sure he must have had morning classes. "Oh good, MC, you're still here. I was afraid I'd miss you." You exchanged bows as he sat across from you next to Haku. After watching him politely accept Haku's offer for tea, you perked up and handed him the letter.

"Here you go, Subaru. This letter's for you."

"Thank you, MC. May I ask who it's from?"

At this, you froze. Your hands idly cradled your teacup before bringing it to your lips. "This is a bit embarrassing but I didn't actually get her name. In my defense, it didn't really seem like she wanted to tell me, but still, I have no excuse, I'm sorry." You bowed your head, feeling a small blush spreading through your cheeks. "I can at least tell you that it was a general student from Frostheim, though."

"Please, don't apologize. I'm sure I can figure out who it's from. Thank you for bringing it to me, MC." The actor's eyes flitted across your face, hesitating before his next words. "I really admire how hard you're working. Not just for Darkwick or us ghouls, but the general students too. I just hope you're taking care of yourself. You really shouldn't be coming to Hotarubi without an umbrella." He pointed to the towel around your neck. Your hair was still noticeably damp from the rain.

You smiled and stood up just as Haku returned with Subaru's tea. Haku gently took the towel from around your neck and started stroking your hair with it, his thumbs lightly massaging your temple. "There, see? She'll be fine." He smiled at his captain, who returned it with a shy gaze of his own, before turning to you. "But he is kinda right, you know? You've got to put yourself first sometimes."

"I know, Haku, thank you." You waited for him to finish rustling your hair until he took back the towel, resting it on his forearm. "I should really get going, though. Please tell Zenji I say hi." With that, you gathered your stuff and moved to leave.

"Wait, please, MC!" You looked back at Subaru as he was rushing to stand up. "Please take my umbrella."

"I appreciate the offer, Subaru, but then I'd have to bring two on my next visit." You rubbed your neck sheepishly, a small grin on your face as you assessed his worry.

"Then you can keep it! Really, I have too many. And I don't want you getting sick with the rain. Please." His velvety eyes stared into yours, a small plea hidden in them. Something inside you told you he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Very well, then. Thank you, Subaru. But I insist on bringing it back to you." He clearly noted your own stubbornness, humming in a hesitant understanding.

"By the way, I'm having lunch with Lyca tomorrow. Would you like to join us? We're planning to order at Sho's and eat at the terrace so you could meet us at the food truck. Or, sorry, of course you can get whatever you want if you feel like getting something at the campus store or the cafeteria and meet us at the terrace instead. Or would you prefer eating elsewhere?"

You decided to cut his rambling short, knowing that it would probably continue otherwise, and smiled at him. "Subaru, it's okay. I'd love to have lunch with you and Lyca. I'll meet you at Sho's."

The brunette gazed at you with wide eyes before smiling back at you, bowing his head. "Thank you." You weren't sure why he was thanking you. And to be completely honest, you didn't think he knew either. Nevertheless you accepted it with a nod and left.

"Well, that was something," Haku said as Subaru reclaimed his seat next to him. The actor sighed wistfully, taking a sip of his tea.

"I hope they get back okay."

Haku sized him up with a playful smirk. "You want to open that letter now? The suspense is killing me."

Subaru looked down to where the envelope sat at the table, taking it into his gloved hands. He carefully slid his thumb under the envelopes seal, opening it without a tear. He looked back up at his vice-captain through his lashes. "Are you just going to watch me read it?"

"Yep, pretty much."

With that, Subaru took the letter out, his eyes scanning the sheet and his cheeks burning more and more with every word he read. Haku assessed Subaru's reaction, the actor shrinking back ever-so-slightly with evident shyness. By the time he was done reading, Subaru was completely avoiding Haku's gaze, his hand coming up to cover his face.

"Oh? Now this is getting interesting. What was in that letter, Subaru?"

"Oh, heavens!" A voice came booming from behind Subaru. "Well, I do say love is in the air! Two hearts blossoming on the branch of destiny!"

Subaru looked over his shoulder just as Zenji had finished reading the letter. The taller man bolstered, prancing about with his hands to his chest.

"Ah, there you are Zenji," Haku said.

"My heart swells with the deepest joy for you, my friend. Now tell me, who is this person whom you've thoroughly ensnared with your charm."

"Well unless it says it in the actual letter, MC said they didn't get the girl's name." Haku took a sip of his tea, enjoying the scene before him as Zenji's eccentricity was beginning to overwhelm an embarrassed Subaru.

"Our dear honor student was here and nobody cared to tell me?! Oh-" Zenji paused in thought, uncharacteristically silent as the other two watched him intently. Suddenly, he raised his hands in the air, his tone impossibly more flowery than before. "I get it now! What better stroke of inspiration than two of your dearest friends falling in love! Subaru, you have my full support in this new courtship with our lovely MC!"

Subaru's cheeks, tinted a graceful pink, began to burn hotter at Zenji's implication. "Excuse me, Zenji, but what do you mean? MC just came to deliver it."

Haku let out a pensive hum. "You know, I didn't even think about that but..."

"Haku, you don't really think that this is from MC, do you?" The actor now cupped his face with both hands, this new possibility running through his mind.

"Would you mind if I read the letter?" With that, Subaru handed the paper over to his vice-captain. Haku skimmed it before looking back at the brunette assuredly. "Just as I thought, no name on the actual note." Subaru nodded as Haku stroked his chin in thought, his eyebrows scrunching above his slitted eyes. "And they want you to meet them tomorrow at the Ethereal Spring for a proper confession..."

"So, do you think it could be MC?" Subaru questioned.

"It's very likely. They could have made up a cover-up story about a general student. Maybe they were too shy to claim ownership over it in front of me. They clearly want to meet you alone tomorrow." Haku watched Subaru avert his eyes once more, a frown shining through a crack between his hands. "How would you feel if it was MC? Or I guess a better question would be: how do you feel about MC?"

The actor's eyes drooped, closing for a second before responding, "I...I don't know."

"Oh poor thing, they'll be heartbroken if you reject them. But I suppose it cannot be helped if you do not feel the same," Zenji spoke up once more.

"Reject?" Subaru looked to Zenji quizzically. That thought hadn't really reached the actor's mind yet as a possibility. Rejecting MC felt almost unthinkable. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Well," Haku started, "Zenji's right. If you don't feel the same about MC, you're gonna have to reject them. And I know you can be shy but don't even think about not showing up. I won't let you. Whatever you decide I'll support, but come what may, you'll be going to the Ethereal Spring tomorrow."

Uhhh...yeah that's a fic, I think? One that's definitely NOT proofread, at least. Decided to stop here but I already have what would be a part two in my head so let me know if a part two is wanted? Maybe? Okay bye, love you!

[pokemon-ash-aus]

I'm more curious on what reverse betrayal AU is, i couldn't really find anything in the tags sorry

Damn i SWEAR i wrote it down already. I guess Tumblr's tags are extra extra broken.

OKAY 👏

So everyone knows the canonical fanfiction trope of Betrayal AU's yes? Where the Main character of any fandom (in this case Ash) gets abandoned and spit on by their friends and partners except for the brief few that usually end up being the love interest?

In this case it's

Ash's friends leave him, ash's pokemon leave him except for the strong ones (pikachu is usually leaving him behind but i call bull so whatevs), Ash gets new pokemon, stronger and so much better (also legendaries, whoda thunk), he gets a love interest or a harem (cause why not) and then gets WICKED OP to the point its a bit unbelievable. Theb the betrayers come back and Ash wipes the floor with them while mocking them the whole time.

Its a well known trope, one that i used to adore myself, but i found it lacking after a hot min. The characters were always OOC, and the progression of events started to lean on terrible for me. No hate to the trope, i wrote one nyself once upon a time (unfinished), but it's nit in my wheelhouse anymore.

And so i made the Reverse Betrayal AU, mostly as a kick but really it started on the same premise but executed differently.

Ash's friends gather round, in this case, it had only gone up to alola so im sticking by that. My reasoning was that the little field trip down in Kanto was an excellent opportunity to get the rest of Ash's friends down there as a surprise!

Now, i want to point out the crucial information that Ash acts differently with each friend group. Not intentionally being deceitful, but more of, trying to fit into the type of person they need. For Misty that was a Brat, for May that was a Mentor, for Dawn a Sibling, for Iris an idiot, for Serena a hero. Etc etc.

Alola was the place where Ash *couldnt* do that so he finds himself in a mix of Mentor/friend/sibling role.

But when they all are there, Ash has a hard time trying to figure out what he should be and what he should stray into. And that leans into him being a Brat because Misty is a VERY loud personality in a way no one else was.

And boy do they grate on each other's nerves.

Misty is teasing him playfully, but Ash is biting back HARD. Not because he wants too, but the stress of the situation makes it hard for him to fight back just as playful. Especially with Iris there since her words used to cut before, but now he's painting Misty with the same brush but twice as deep.

And Misty doesnt appreciate this right, so this playfight on her end turns into actual fighting, words of anger and resentment speaking out on both sides.

"I WISH I NEVER MET YOU." Get's thrown out and the entire field goes quiet.

"Ditto." Ash growls.

And they turn away from each other.

And Brock is already trying to placate, he's seen this before a million times but then...

Everyone else jumps in.

Accusations are thrown, some side with Misty some side with Ash. None of these people are friends with each other, they all are connected through Ash.

And so Brock cuts them all off, cause the two were BOTH being uncalled for. And when he turns to Ash to ask what he was thinking.

The kid is outright gone.

No words no nothing and that leaves a deep deep dread in Brock's stomach.

"Oh he left, just like a little kid." Iris sighs, shaking her head as the others glare at her.

"No," Brock's voice trembles and that stops everyone else from really saying anything. "Ash can be rude and angry and wrong all he wants but he doesnt ever leave a conversation mod way- hell he doesnt even run away from a confrontation- this- this isnt right."

And while they look for him it starts ti become more and more clear that... None of these people are /friends/. They know Ash and Ash only.

And that starts *arguments*, screams of whose right and whose wrong and why Ash doesnt need to have a friend like *you.*

Its the take of, instead of Ashbeing abandoned by his friends. Its instead Ash 'abandoning' his friends instead. But its not really true, cause Ash wabts to be with his friends he's just...

Very mad right now.

Whoo i went on a tangent. I have more- somewhere- so ill need to look for it.

[littlejuicebox]

Dancing on my own

Guys I don’t know what this is, it’s just some random angsty drabble that came out inspired by the song “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn (the version by Calum Scott is also nice).

I’m trying to get out of a writing slump so there might be a few more random bits of writing here and there. I’m not sure I even like this tbh lol.

Summary: You and Astarion decided to be just friends after his Moonrise Towers confession. He couldn’t make himself admit to you that he wanted more than that. He knew you deserved better than what he could offer. Now that his quest with Cazador is done, he’s totally lost. He wants you, but you have someone else now; he thinks it’s someone better than him. He’s heartbroken.

Tags/Warnings: PG13, lots of angst, depression, PTSD, low self esteem, depersonalization/derealization, sad Astarion, tbh it’s kinda just a sad bit of drabble

Astarion killed Cazador. You’d think he would’ve been happy… ecstatic, even. But instead he felt exceedingly numb and so, so tired.

It had been nearly a week since then. Astarion had spent most of that time in his room, trancing or simply just lying in the dark. He was exhausted; his limbs felt like lead.

Shadowheart was concerned he had fallen ill and kept checking on him. He would simply grunt to her in response or ignore her line of questioning until she sighed and left.

You came by a few times a day to offer him your wrist; he would drink with a misty-eyed, faraway expression… or sometimes not at all. His hand would linger for a moment on yours, and then he would roll himself the other direction, turning away from you.

It was hard to look at you, to be that close to you, to touch you, to taste you. Blood and sex had been so intertwined in the beginning, it always brought back the memories from before. It made him sick to his stomach.

But his hunger often won, in the end.

How ironic, that the only blood which satisfies his near-insatiable thirst is also the only blood that makes his stomach churn with guilt and disgust at himself.

A double edged sword. Stabbed through his heart.

He should be happy… ecstatic, even. But, by the gods, is he so, so tired. Can a vampire rot into the earth if they stay in one place for too long?

Perhaps. Perhaps he should get up and move, if only to avoid rotting away.

Astarion manages to take a short bath and pull himself together… somewhat. It’s hard to move when your limbs feel like lead. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair feels like it’s not quite in place, but it will have to do.

The pale elf slinks down to the tavern, where the evening crowd is teetering the hazy line between buzzed and drunk. He’s not in much of a mood for talking to others, so he sits in a corner booth, hoping the natural shadows and his brooding demeanor will deter any visitors. For a few moments he feels normal… or at least acts it. But then he sees you. And Halsin.

Halsin has his arms coiled around you as he absolutely ravages your lips. His thick hands are gripping your body; one hand on your waist, one on your neck. It’s an exceptional amount of PDA; he would vomit, if he had anything left in his stomach from the only small sip he’d taken from you this morning. The hand the druid tenderly placed on your neck is covering the scars Astarion had marked on you from the times before, back when you’d been his. Had you been his? Back before—

“I had a plan. A nice, simple plan…”

“Maybe what you need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion had hurt you. He’d hurt you. The look that crossed your face as he confessed is etched into his mind for all eternity; it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes from a trance and the last thing he sees before he slips into one. He’ll never forget the tears that welled in your eyes, which you’d rapidly blinked away. And then you thanked him… thanked him for telling you, for being truthful. Thanked him for hurting you.

He should have lied. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have chose differently from the start.

He knew what he did was terrible; you deserved something more, something real. He just couldn’t be that. He didn’t know how to be… real.

Hells, was he even real now? Was any of this real?

He felt like a shell. Hollow. Empty. It all felt like a sick, strange dream that he couldn’t wake from. All that time he spent running, and now he no longer had to… but who was he, if not a runner?

He’d run from Cazador. Run from you. Run from the concept of true intimacy, which you had so willingly offered.

But now? Now he wanted nothing more than to run to you. He wanted to run into your arms and be held by you, comforted by you. But there you were in the arms of someone who was able to give you what you deserved.

Who was he to get in the way of that? He was nothing. He was no one.

“Good to see you out of bed.”

The vampire rips his eyes away from you and Halsin, where the two of you seem oblivious to the world and stuck in a heated embrace.

Shadowheart is standing next to the booth; her eyes had followed his, and she’d been watching the same passionate makeout scene with mild interest.

She flicks her gaze back to Astarion with a knowing look, and a soft, sad smile crosses her face. The cleric extends her hand out to him, “Come on, Astarion. One dance and then I will let you slink back into this corner to sulk for the rest of the night, if you wish.”

He sighs and considers the offer. He doesn’t want to move, but he can’t keep picking different places to stay and rot. And he can’t keep watching you two. His limbs still feel like lead.

“Very well.” He murmurs, and he takes Shadowheart’s hand.

They dance. It’s a platonic sort of jig, mostly spinning around at arms length with one another. For a moment, Astarion feels a brief glimmer of happiness. He chuckles and smiles; his limbs don’t feel like lead. And then the tune ends, and he’s wandering back to the booth with Shadowheart, and that sinking feeling begins to grow in his chest once more.

“You should talk to them, you know, Astarion. Let them know how you feel. They may choose differently… if you make your true desires known. You did tell them you wanted to be friends, after all.” The cleric murmurs, with another sad little smile. Her eyes contain pity; he hates that.

He’s watching you and Halsin again, where you two are staring contentedly at one another, chatting away. You’re lost in your own little impenetrable bubble. You don’t even see him or notice him at all.

He’s nothing. He’s no one.

Astarion looks so dejected; normally he would be better at putting on his mask. But he’s so tired. He should be happy. But he’s exhausted.

“Maybe I should. But Tav looks happy… I can’t bring myself to ruin that. Selfish as I am, I do care about them, you know.”

Shadowheart nods and sighs. She knows something, he can tell by the look on her face. She wants to say more but decides against it. A small pat on the vampire’s hand and she murmurs, “Good night, Astarion. I hope to see you down here in the morning.”

Then she’s gone, heading upstairs to her room. And he’s alone again.

Astarion watches you two for a bit longer, even though every second he witnesses causes another crack in his fragile heart. Then his eyes return to the dance floor and he sighs before forcing himself out of the booth again. His limbs feel like lead, but he has to start somewhere.

For now, he’ll have to keep dancing on his own.

[ghoul-foolery]

Date Night | Part 2 of 3

Hancock x Nora (F! Sole Survivor)

Tags: MDNI, mentions of masturbation, sexual tension, dirty talk, Rad-X as pre-game. Note: The smut is in the next chapter.

[ Part 1 ] - [ Part 3 ]

//

“Friends can fuck.”

“Oh,” she said, like she didn’t know. Like it was some foreign concept. Like it was some secret, forbidden dark knowledge.

“Is that why you stopped me? Because we’re friends?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship, and I really didn’t want to put you in that position. Especially when you were just being nice…”

Hancock’s lips brushed her ear as he rasped, “If you knew I wanted it too, would you have stopped me?”

//

Nora had said she’d meet Hancock in the hotel lobby in 10 minutes. 

It seemed like an obtainable goal. Fluff up the flattened bun, repin some wayward locks of hair that had gotten free. While she would openly admit that she was deeply out of practice, 10 minutes should have been beyond enough; and it would have been if her meddlesome thoughts had stopped introducing the idea of taking the edge off of all of the lingering, anticipatory energy.

It will be quick, her nagging mind purred. Stretch out on the bed and take care of it.

She could see the bed in the mirror. It could be quick. Or it could turn into some hard-fought thing that ended up taking too long, and maybe she’d give up before being even close to a finish. It was that thought alone that prevented her from giving in. She told Hancock she would be ten minutes, and she would be ten damn minutes. 

Imagine him between your thighs again. You could probably set a record. 

Blinking once, twice, she realized she was staring at the bed instead of doing her hair. Cursing her wandering thoughts, Nora did her best to focus on pinning, and reshaping, and taming the bun into something elegant. Or, at least, something somewhat presentable.

You could probably still smell him if you put your head on the pillow. That could help.

Nora’s eyes caught on the reflection of the bed again, just a lingering moment, the thought of going to see if she could–

“Stoppit,” she griped at herself. Where was all of this coming from? From left goddamn field, that’s where. Hancock was a relentless, equal opportunity flirt. And, yeah, Nora would flirt back, but she had never once thought about him like that . Well, actually, that was mostly a lie. Nora had thought of Hancock like that, but it was less ‘go masturbate to thoughts of your best friend’, and more of a passing curiosity.

What would all of the grooves, and roughness feel like–

It took Nora nearly 20 minutes to give up on trying to tame her thoughts, and style her hair. Getting out of the room thankfully helped. With the thoughts, not with the hair. The hair was what it was, and she did her best with the limited tools she had.

With the first bare-footed step out into the hallway landing, all of the frazzled nerves that had her whole body practically buzzing turned into giddy excitement. Taking to the stairs, she couldn’t help but feel like a kid again. Sixteen, all gussied up, descending the stairs to meet her date for her first school dance. Her mom had been misty-eyed, and her father had been stone-faced, and the boy picking her up was nervous.

Hancock wasn’t nervous, not that she had expected him to be. When she had first rounded the landing and started her descent down the final flight of stairs, she spotted him propping up the front desk. He was leaning on one of his arms, chattering away with Clair, the hotel’s manager. There was a pair of black kitten heels in his hand. Nora took the moment to consider him.

Dress. Dinner. Drinks. Dancing. You, me, fucking date night, he had proclaimed. And he had capped it off with coming to her hotel room to pick her up. He knew that she was a sucker for sweet little gestures, and that would have been one of the sweetest if she hadn’t botched it with her self consciousness. Nora watched as he threw his head back and laughed at something Clair said, and she decided she would be better for the rest of the evening. There would be no more loathing thoughts. And she would absolutely not dwell on the knife-sharp recollection of her mother talking about putting a ‘pig in a wig’. Nora would thank him for the shoes, and she would let herself enjoy the night with the Mayor of Goodneighbor, because it was an official mayoral decree and they took those things seriously.

As she stepped into the lobby, she quietly cleared her throat to announce her arrival. Hancock turned his head, and immediately smiled. It started out as one of his signature slanted, lazy grins that grew large and full. It showed his teeth, it reached his eyes. It looked so genuine. So happy, and pleased.

“There’s my girl,” Hancock rasped in greeting as she crossed the space between them. He stooped to the ground, placing the heels side-by-side, the toes facing him. Then he swapped them around, making sure the shoes would match with the correct feet. By the time he straightened, she was coming to a stop just in front of him. He offered her his hand. Nora took it, accepting his support as she slipped into the heels.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. Heels could be so hit-or-miss. “A perfect fit.”

“I’m onna fuckin’ roll today,” he teased as he lifted their joined hands over their heads. It was a silent command, a fluid push and pull of his arm, that urged Nora into a slow twirl on the tips of her toes. Following his lead felt so natural that she didn’t even fall out of balance when he pushed her into another spin.

“Look at you, babe,” Hancock said. As she came out of the turn, he tugged her in close. He guided the hand in his grasp to his chest. The other hand came to a natural rest on his shoulder. Nora couldn’t help but be surprised by the flawless execution, despite how slow and relaxed the movements had been. “Goddamn, girl.”

Trying to tamper down her blush, Nora mumbled a, “Stop,” as she swatted at his shoulder.

“Gonna need to get you more pretty dresses to run around in, I think,” he continued on, threading her arm into the crook of his as he escorted her out of the hotel lobby. “Whaddaya say?”

“Only if I get to see you in a suit,” Nora countered, walking along beside him. “Not that I don’t love the Hancock duds, but if I have to crawl out of the vault suit and into a dress, then we need to find you a tux or something.”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it. Yer fuckin’ glowing.”

“Must be the sequins.”

“You’re so right. It’s the sequins,” he agreed, then tossed his head as he rolled his eyes. But then he suddenly slowed to a stop just in front of the door. “Hey,” he said. “If you’re hating this, like really fucking hating it, we can cancel. I’m not gonna twist yer arm if—“

“No,” Nora said in earnest. “I really honestly love it. Dressing up and having my date come pick me up is, well. It’s kinda dumb how much I like it.”

That slanted smile as he replied, “Knew you would.”

“I just got a little self conscious earlier, and I’m still trying to shrug it off. Buy me a drink and I’m sure it’ll go away.”

“I think I can do that for ya, know why?”

“Because it’s date night?”

“Because it’s fucking date night!” He crowed as he shoved the door open. “But also I own the bar so I get a pretty sweet deal.”

The weather was nice enough that Nora wouldn’t have minded a nice long walk, as opposed to a quick jaunt across the street. Hancock was patient as she took a little extra care down the steps that descended into the Rail. Pre-bombing she basically lived in heels, and could run a couple of Boston blocks in them without a single issue. Now going down some stairs in kitten heels left her feeling just a mite unsteady. The smell of food, booze, and smoke greeted them with open arms as Magnolia’s velvety crooning voice echoed around them. The evening was just kicking off, and yet the bar was nearly full.

They typically took up residence at the bar proper. It offered up the fastest service, but they also got a front row seat to see Whitechapel Charlie’s customer service skills. Which were close to non-existent. And that was what was so fun about it. As Nora fell into step to approach the bar, Hancock redirected her towards a booth seat that tucked up against the back wall. There was a single lit candle in the middle of the table, barely competing with all of the neon but still there and flickering bright.

Nora bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from smiling too big–

“I knew you’d like that little detail,” Hancock said as he guided her to the seat. She scooped the already tight skirt against the backs of her legs as she sat, and scooted inward. “You want your usual?”

“Know my usual, do you?” She said, voice soft, teasing, and maybe just a little flirty.

There was something in the way his black eyes reflected all the neon and the flickering candle that made him look downright devilish as he winked. “You know I do.”

Hancock took one step backwards, before he pivoted and made his way to the bar. People lit up when they saw him. While they had only been away from Goodneighbor for a couple of weeks, the patrons in the Rail acted as if it had been years. People called out greetings, they raised glasses and welcomed him home. He took every ounce of the recognition with casual ease, greeting some like they had been lifelong friends. It struck Nora, in that moment, that everyone he could be with for the evening, and he had chosen to spend it with her. For a date night.

All these little moments were stacking up. Knowing her bra size, shoe size, dress size. Picking her up for their evening out, and knowing her go-to dinner at the Rail. Then there was everything in her hotel room. The way Hancock insisted that they were partners, and the way he insisted that they would work through her silly insecurities together . And the way he had brushed his knuckles against her—

I know, doll. I know, he had said, his voice so grating and low she had felt it reverberate into her skin. Nora felt like sinking under the table and hiding but barely managed to refrain. Oh god. But if he knew what she thought he knew, he was paying it zero mind. In fact, if he did actually know that Nora had been teetering much too close to the brink of ‘my best friend might accidentally make me cum’, he hadn’t backed off. In fact, he seemed fine with continuing until she had backed off. He’d even checked in with her to make sure she was fine to keep going.

Oh. Did he maybe want to make her—

No, no. That was assuming that he knew. He could know literally anything else, he could know nothing at all.

Leave it alone, drop it.

“Foods been ordered,” Hancock said as he placed an accumulation of glasses on the table.

There were four shot glasses filled with clear liquid; probably vodka. A rocks glass was placed in front of her, filled with amber liquid and a twist of citrus peel. Nora recognized it as Charlie’s post-war variant of an Old Fashioned. Then there was another glass of amber liquid. Nora knew without question that it was whiskey.

Once he was settled into the booth, he tossed a casual arm around her shoulders, picking up one of the shot glasses and holding it as if he was going to make a toast. Nora snagged one too, mimicking him. Together, they touched the glasses to the table, and then downed their shots. Hancock took it like water. No reaction; no twist of his lips, no grimace as the alcohol worked its magic. Nora, meanwhile, cringed and shivered and immediately reached for the second. She was going to enjoy their evening together. She was not going to steep herself in all of the worry and concern of the maybes and the guilt. She was going to embrace their date night, and she was going to relax, and have fun.

Hancock joined her for round two. The shot glasses were knocked against the table, and downed a beat later.

“Shit, Nor,” He snickered, pushing the spent glasses to the corner of the table. “You gonna keep that pace up all night?”

“I think I’d die.”

“Or wanna be dead. I’ll totally hold yer hair if ya need me to.”

“If I start puking, you have my permission to abandon me,” Nora snorted, basking in the way the alcohol pooled and settled in her stomach, warming and relaxing and immediately soothing in a way she desperately needed. The rest of the evening would be taken at a slower pace. She wouldn’t be downing shots all night.

“I’d never abandon you, babe,” he said as he took a swig of his whiskey. He took a moment to let the liquid roll around his mouth and coat his tongue, then he swallowed. Nora’s eyes caught on the way his throat bobbed.

The two drifted into easy conversation. Nora told Hancock about her first (terrible, awful) experience with alcohol, and he chased hers with his. Hancock’s arm had stayed looped comfortably around her shoulders as they talked, and Nora found herself leaning in all snug against him. They were so close it was hard to look away from him. Not like she wanted to. Maybe it was the one-two punch of the vodka shots, but Nora was absolutely enamored with the way all of the lights reflected in his eyes.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Hancock said as he looked up and away.

The loss of eye contact, paired with the sudden absence of his arm, Nora felt like a spell had just been broken. Nora blinked, just noticing that their dinner, and another round of shots, had been delivered and Charlie was already drifting away. She also realized how cozy she had gotten into Hancock’s side. She sat upright, peering at her plate. Hancock did indeed know her Third Rail usual. A fist-sized filet of brahmin, paired with cuts of various grilled vegetables.

“I’m starting to think you know me too well,” Nora joked, but couldn’t help but be too pleased with the gesture.

“What, like you don’t know my favorites by now?”

Hancock liked macaroni and cheese when he was high – actually, he preferred Takahashi’s noodles, but since those weren’t readily available, he settled for macaroni and cheese. If he had the choice between brahmin and radstag he would pick radstag, and when he had radstag he preferred to drink whiskey or bourbon. After a long childhood working fishing nets by the bay, he had an aversion to most fish dishes but he occasionally made an exception for angler if it was poached in tomato sauce. In the cold of winter he’d probably eat stew for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she let him, and in the heat of summer he didn’t like to eat much of anything at all if it meant he had to go near a fire or an oven to cook.

“Yeah, but I don’t know your dress size.”

Hancock leaned in as if he was telling a secret as he said, “You keep being sweet for me, and I might tell you later.”

They were both roughly midway through their meals when Hancock suddenly slid from the booth. She turned to watch him go, on the brink of asking him if he could order her a water, when he crooked his index and middle fingers at her, beckoning her to follow. Just as she was about to politely inform him that she wasn’t done eating, Magnolia started to croon the opening lyrics to Goodneighbor. Dinner, drinks, dancing. Nora gave him a look that she hoped conveyed ‘oh come on, you want to dance to Good Neighbor?’, and he replied with another slow, deliberate, curl of his fingers.

Making a show of rolling her eyes, Nora scooted from the booth, and was immediately swept to the front of the room, right in front of Magnolia’s stage, just to the side of the bar. The song started slow, with a gentle upkick to the tempo, which Hancock matched and guided her through with complete ease. He didn’t shy away from pushing her into eager spins, guiding her body out and then reeling her back in close and flush…

When Magnolia’s voice drifted into quiet, Nora was smiling; a big stupid smile, because dancing with Hancock was fun, and while she’d insist that she was absolutely rubbish at dancing, she loved it so, so much. Nora was readying herself to swing by the bar to order that water, but the music dipped into something slower - something that called more for soft closeness and less pressing, swaying hips – and Hancock didn’t let go. So, instead, she allowed herself to melt into him, letting the side of her head lull against his. Her cheek pressed against the sloping angle of his jaw. Their joined hands were brought to rest against his chest. He gripped her hip. She draped her fingers over his shoulder. They fell into the gentle drift of the beat.

“Thank you for all of this,” Nora said softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “We really should do this sort of thing more often.”

“Just glad yer not so antsy now,” he murmured into her ear as they swayed. “Thought you were ready to go jump out of a window to get away from me earlier.”

“Hm? When?” she had been curled up to him like an affectionate cat, unable to look away, and not really wanting to–

“Earlier. When I was shaving yer legs.”

The alcohol had taken the edge off, it had eased her into a state of calm where she was once again allowed to enjoy her friend’s company without feeling like she was accidentally committing a crime.

She wasn’t drunk by any means, but she was certainly emboldened enough to say, “Well, if you absolutely must know. I was sort of getting ridiculously turned on earlier. And I started to feel guilty, because you’re my friend and you were doing me a favor and not signing up for whatever the hell was going on…”

“Don’t think I wasn’t going to push my luck, Nor.”

Hancock’s rasping voice dragged the air from her lungs. Nora’s steps faltered, teetering out of synchronicity before he was pulling her back into step.

“Huh?”

“I was going to offer to take care of you. Thought we were on the same page until you decided to wrap things up.” He said it so matter-of-fact.

“Take care of me,” she echoed weakly. She was suddenly so deeply aware of his body heat, and the smell of him. The way his hand cradled hers to his chest. And all the sweet closeness. Sonnova bitch, she had been so keyed up earlier that she had contemplated rubbing one out before meeting him–

He hummed softly.

“Huh–” Girl, come on. She swallowed. “How?”

The way he growled, “I was really fond of the idea of pushing those see-through panties aside and fucking you with my tongue, my fingers…” sent her whole world teetering on its axis. “Wanted to taste you so fucking bad, Nora.”

So he did fucking know.

“We’re friends…” she said, because that is what she had been telling herself as he had worked her into a curious, needy little mess back in the Rexford.

“Friends can fuck.”

“Oh,” she said, like she didn’t know. Like it was some foreign concept. Like it was some secret, forbidden dark knowledge.

“Is that why you stopped me? Because we’re friends?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship, and I really didn’t want to put you in that position. Especially when you were just being nice…”

They weren’t even dancing anymore. Yet they still hadn’t moved to part ways. He still had her gathered close, and she was still leaning into him. But she wasn’t completely sure when the hands at his chest laced together. His overlapped hers, his fingers threading and curling against his chest. He held onto her as if he was afraid of her running away.

Hancock’s lips brushed over her skin as he said, “If you knew I wanted it too, would you have stopped me?”

“No,” she breathed, her voice sounding weak and feeble. “I don’t think so.”

“And what would you say if I told you I still wanted it? What if I told you I wanted to taste you right fucking now? That I wanted to bend you over and fuck you in this pretty dress you like so much?” His voice was doing things to her. It filled her stomach with butterflies. Made her head feel a little light. When he exhaled his breath fanned her neck, drawing goosebumps and delighted shivers–

She found a fragment of lucidity, and managed, “Must be the sequins.”

Hancock barked a laugh, some of the growing tension easing as he smiled against her cheek. “I’m willing to find out if you are.” When she didn’t immediately respond he added, “Stay with me tonight.”

“Yeah,” she said. Why did she feel like she was shaking? Why could she feel her pulse in her throat? Nerves were a bitch. “Okay.”

“C’mon,” he ground out, finally extracting himself from her, but not releasing her hand. “Let’s get outta here.”

Hancock guided her out of the bar, up the stairs, and out into the street. Dinner and drinks were left unfinished, but he didn’t care. Nora couldn’t help but wonder if he was just that eager. So eager he didn’t bother finishing dinner, or his drink. So eager that they were abandoning date night and heading straight to his room in the Old State House.

Pre-war, pre-Nate, she had never been one for fuck buddies. She could see the appeal, had thought about it a time or two, but Nora was a jealous sort and wasn’t a fan of sharing. She could do a night though. Some steamy little fling that would hopefully leave her completely sated and her mind clear. He said he had wanted to take care of her, and she really hoped he would.

They stepped into his room — sparsely decorated, just a queen sized bed and a desk — and the door closed.

“So, how—“

So, how do we do this, she was going to ask. Do we set rules, and boundaries, she was going to ask. Do we avoid kissing, or are we just going for it.

The line of questioning was severed as she was shoved back against the door – her head would have knocked against the wood if it weren’t for the way he cradled the back of her head in his palm. Hancock caught Nora’s surprised little gasp with his mouth, capturing her in a fleeting kiss that immediately melted into the next. Soft, sultry, lingering, coaxing her mouth open just enough for his tongue to caress inward and then retreat—

“We need to get some Rad-X in you before we kick this off, alright baby?” Baby. Not babe. Baby. That was new. She liked the way he rasped it like sandpaper against her lips, and liked the way she could taste it. His hand drifted from her hair, cupping her neck, caressing her skin as he moved to thumb her chin. He kissed her lower lip, traced it with his tongue. “Then we’ll have to burn some time while we wait for it to kick in.”

“For how long?”

His smile was wicked as he took a step backward, then another. He drawled, “Long enough.” before turning and retreating to the desk.

Nora slipped out of the heels, as Hancock rifled through his desk. It took but a moment for him to find the bottle he was looking for. He shook it like a rattle, the pills jingling in the glass container. She went to him. He shook one of the pills into his hand.

When Nora went to take it from him, he pulled his hand back.

“If this is where you change your mind, I swear.”

He chuckled, his smile lopsided. “About this? Never.” And yet he pulled his hand away when she reached for it again. That’s when he took the Rad-X and placed it onto the flat of his tongue. “Want you to take it from me.”

Mangled fingers curled into the material of her dress and he dragged her forward, his hips pressing against hers. His mouth was already drifting forward, lips parted and waiting but again, when she leaned forward to take, he bobbed his head back – Nora kissed air.

“You’re a menace, John Hancock."

His mouth was close again, ghosting over hers as purred, “You love it. Now come and fucking get it, baby.”

//

[ Part 1 ] - [ Part 3 ]

[kinkyintherealworld]

Sissification - a toxic construction of femininity or getting off on outdated social constructs?

Becca here. 😀

First… I LOVE THAT YOU STARTED THIS DISCUSSION!!!! Thank you so much @youngchastity - who wrote to us (and tagged us in a post) for some healthy discussion around the sissification kink. We’ve definitely had a few things to say about it on the podcast, as have our guests. You can read his post, that started this conversation, here

Rather than speak for both of us at @kinkyintherealworld, I’m going to jump in and answer this from my point of view.

@youngchastity I love your thoughts on gender - I totally agree. I actually reblogged a post by @necromimetics the other day that said: 

“can’t stop thinking about my friend’s cishet partner who said last night that he doesn’t think anyone is the same gender. god-tier take.”

And I agree - we’re all a wibbly-wobbly swirl of masculine, feminine, and everything in between energies, and everyone has their own unique blend. Trying to squash us into labels is lame as hell. 

I like to think I am never one to kink shame (keeping it safe, sane and consensual), and in world where I (and many other women) want to smash the patriarchy, I may be a bit more sensitive to kinks that look down on femininity - or that’s how I have perceived it to date. As someone who has struggled with gender equality issues in real life (your capitalism comment made me give a disgruntled, but amused, snort), it’s hard to not knee jerk react and feel like I need to defend womanhood/femininity. There is still a power imbalance in the world, and equality is still a goal yet to be achieved, but upon dissection, is in the bedroom, playing with kinks, even a place we need to bring this battle? A question that has been raised to me, even before your message.

It’s funny, because I have actually had your very points discussed with me, last fall with my partner, Misty (who if you have read my personal tumblr is trans-personality who enjoys both sides of the gender spectrum fluidly) - we were on a road trip discussing the two episodes you made note of in your post, episode #16 and #19. And Misty, like you, felt we were missing the mark. S/he felt that in no way does sissification for the purpose of humiliation somehow degrade/make fun of/make lesser femininity. For all the same reasons you stated. S/he and I actually talked about doing a podcast about it, to dive more into the topic, Misty felt that strongly. It should be noted that Misty is NOT into sissification or feminization for the purpose of humiliation, and still she felt that we gave the sissification kink a bum rap. 

Hearing her thoughts and yours, I think it is something that should be revisited and, for me personally, I need to take a closer look at why I find it uncomfortable.

Since you made such lovely points I want to try and address each one!

We’ve established that we both agree the trappings around what we consider to be masculine and feminine are made up (and ridiculous). I think, the kink we are talking about here is ultimately humiliation through outdated (but still most commonly accepted) societal norms. IF you get embarrassed about having those things stripped away, and “forced” into the opposite direction… good for you? I mean seriously, how fun is it to get off in weird and wonderful ways with someone who shares your kink from a slightly different perspective! The reality is, I believe, this isn’t hurting anyone. You want a person to lock up your dick, make fun of your little penis (your actual size is irrelevant), or put you in clothing that bends your mind with eroticism and makes you flustered with sexual need - awesome! Life is too short not to enjoy the kinks we have. The bigger question, if I want to dig into the piece that makes me feel uncomfortable is, “Is there misogyny in the specific kink?” - and the answer to that, for me upon reflection, is no. Misogyny comes from the person performing it. So yeah, some kinky things are done with TONS of misogynistic intent… but that isn’t concentrated in one area. Those assholes are everywhere.

To me, feminization is never something that goes hand-in-hand with sissification. My partner feminized himself (their pronouns are all over the place), in a loving way. To empower the feminine in himself. He has often described it as blooming or becoming a butterfly - his higher form of being. So no humiliation to be found, for either of us on either end. I find it hot as fuck when he is all dolled up. 

I haven't dipped my toes into the humiliation via feminization kink (...yet?), so it’s hard for me to wrap my dirty little mind around it. 

Weirdly I do have a bimbofication kink for myself… sometimes. 😁 If I am in a particular mood for the fantasy. I have never found the right time/partner/energy to explore that. Am I feeling humiliation when I go there? I don’t think so…? More the need to feel desired, trophied (yes I made up that word), and used in a deeply submissive way. I’m not embarrassed about that. ;)   I too would be interested in hearing from women who enjoy humiliating others through feminization/sissification, and how they feel about it. Awesome point! 😀

Celebrating feminization! Now that is my jam! 💗 Give me a soft cute boy, and let me make him weak with wanting to be pretty and obedient for me. To me this is a huge mind shift  - the key word “celebrating”, not shaming. Gosh, I could just sink into this topic like the perfect bubble bath. To me, this is a core element to gentle femdom. It is about making boys better… pretty, soft, sweet things that want to please - the D/s element being a key piece. The submissive to be absolutely loved and worshipped for their submission. No shame, not less than me, and certainly not shifting my own very feminine self. I love the feminine. I love to see it in men, and men embracing that side of themselves. Is this a form benevolent sexism? I don’t know. And more to the point, if I am engaging in it with my partners, writing about it on tumblr, and reblogging things that I enjoy around the topic, am I hurting anyone? Food for thought, but I am going to keep doing my thing. ;) I feel like you can look at BDSM here, and for those who wish to criticize it, could for its dynamics. But that feels like a giant, whole other post.    Another thing you mentioned in this point was the strapon, and it’s use as a symbol of power. I have never seen it that way. To me, it is my soul penis… and I love being able to be inside my partner(s). It is an act of love, and makes me want to bring them to amazing places of pleasure (while I get off too). I really don’t enjoy the pictures of women wearing strapons who look like they want to punish their partner with it. But that’s just me. I know lots of people must enjoy that because there is a shit ton of porn that looks that way.

Playing with gender. I like that - and I do it! I love being able to put on a penis!! I really enjoyed trying my hand at Drag King make up and going out as a boy (I’ll post my picture again). I LOVE seeing boys in make up and fucking gender norms right out the window. You said it in your post - gender is made up and stupid. So yeah, let’s play with it, and maybe even break the molds! Though then you’ll have to find something else to get embarrassed and turned on about. ;) Our kinks are about orgasms and pleasure. Let’s enjoy them. In the end, it is all about intent and the people doing it. Not about the kinks themselves. People who want there to be an imbalance of power between women and men will keep doing mean spirited things to keep that nightmare alive - in the streets and in the sheets.

I feel like I have answered your points (I may have jumped around a bit), and I don’t feel the need to argue any of them. Misty had already shone a light on where I may have not been seeing the bigger picture. 

I am SO HAPPY you wrote us a message, and that you took the time to write out your thoughts (that can be read here). So sorry it took me a while to see it and respond! I am always up for conversation and debating (with kindness) any of the points. 

I definitely feel this topic should be a podcast. Any chance you'd like to be on it @youngchastity? ;) 

Hugs! Becca

[solis-solaire]

I am OBSESSED with that AU where Miles is a sibling of Mia and Maya,, and all of them are children of Misty and Gregory. So here’s an essay I wrote about it!

Ideas are inspired by by many other comics on here tagged with #mystic miles au and #miles is a fey au. I also grabbed inspiration from this fic, so please check it out! https://archiveofourown.org/works/8724838

SPOILERS for the Ace Attorney Trilogy ahead, particularly case 3-5!

SO,, Since Iris and Dahlia moved away from Kurain at a young age and are close in age to Phoenix and Miles,, maybe they went to the same channeling school in the city as Miles.

Iris is purple and Dahlia is pink by the way lol

Gregory is a GOOD father so he would send Miles to channeling school since he’s interested in it (and also has powers,, as it turns out. The Fey blood be powerful like that)

And even though Iris and Dahlia’s dad sucks, maybe part of the divorce arrangement for him and Morgan would be that he’d also send them both to channeling school under the guise of them not losing their culture (but Morgan only cares about having a legacy at this point since she wants to put one of her own as the Master of Kurain, ONE of them needs to be able to be a spirit medium).

So they all meet when they’re like 8-10yo,, and Dahlia sucks and would probably bully Miles frequently for being the only boy in the class (since spirit channeling is meant to be passed down through the women in the family. Just for the sake of this au though,, it’s possible for men to inherit the ability, but the amount of times it’s happened in Kurain can be counted on one hand,, so it’s really rare). Dahlia’s projecting hard since at this point she’s def grappling with feeling like a massive failure because of her lack of powers and is taking it out on Miles,, easy target

Iris is feeling it too, but wow she has a friend now to support her! and Miles is like “no you’re so good at other things! You don’t need to be able to channel spirits to have worth, that’s dumb!”

Dahlia totally makes some mess up about Miles having “stolen” her and Iris’ abilities when it turns out Miles can actually channel spirits since “HE’S NOT MEANT TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT” and Iris doesn’t believe it at first,, but when Miles disappears a few weeks later (adopted by Manfred 🤢) she gets hella gaslighted.

Miles also knows like nothing about spirit channeling since he’s a silly city boy who doesn’t live with the Feys in his family,,, so Iris teaches him many of the technical basics when he first starts there 😌 in return they’re often partners for exercises and Miles tries to help her understand the more internal part of them.

Not pictured: Miles consistently ties his kimono the wrong way (right over left is only used when the wearer is dead) because Morgan taught him that “all men in Kurain should tie it that way” - aka she believes Miles should be dead bc her own personal vendetta against Misty + he’s a boy with more powers than her and her children (pre-Pearly) and she took that personally. She didn’t think he’d learn any different since he was moving to the city anyway so who would teach him about that kind of thing? Miles doesn’t learn why she taught him that way until 3-5 and he kinda privately has a moment like “that was on purpose. She wanted me dead. Oh MAN”

I also like to think that Miles’ strong sense of justice rubbed off a little on Iris and stuck with her through adulthood. Maybe she told Phoenix the truth in university and tried to warm him about Dahlia’s plan, but Feenie’s a little too dumb to fully put all the pieces together like that pre-murder. He’s just like “Dollie wdym???? Twin sister? Trying to plot my murder?? You’re so funny ily” and Iris is SOBBING like “Feenie PLEASE it’s been 8 months and I still haven’t gotten her necklace back yet she’s going to kill you TOMORROW” And that makes Phoenix a little less INSANE for Dahlia during the trial making Mia’s life so much easier. He doesn’t eat the necklace bc he kinda knows it’s REALLY important here and he’s gotten other signs that Dahlia’s an awful person. He’s still a bit difficult since he’s still in denial,,, but he’s less of a simp because he WAS warned. Case 3-5 probably also comes to close a little sooner since Iris is less willing to cover for Dahlia like that. She still helps her sister,, but when testifying while facing Phoenix AND Miles she may tell the truth a LOT sooner.

Also when Miles gets adopted by Manfred he can no longer attend channeling school. Misty tried to fight for custody of him when Gregory got clapped but failed since she was under fire because of the DL-6 Spirit Channeling Incident of 2001™️ and she wasn’t seen as a good fit to parent an additional child. Because of this,, Manfred isn’t under obligation to do anything to keep Miles in touch with the Fey side of the family. Miles no longer visits his siblings and Manfred pulls him out of channeling school because “it’s a waste of time,, why do that when you could speedrun becoming a prosecuting attorney?” And although Miles DOES enjoy law,, he also enjoyed spirit channeling. I hc that Manfred lives on one of those big fancy acreages, there’s 100% a waterfall somewhere on his property so Miles would sneak out through his teen years and practice his chants sitting under the flow of water like 4 times a week since that’s the only exercise he remembers from school that he can actually do by himself without a bunch of materials. It’s not proper training since he doesn’t know how to push himself aside from doing it longer each time,, and other exercises are necessary for learning how to control the powers (i say that waterfall exercise is for becoming in tune with the powers and connecting with the spirit world as a whole instead of channeling one person in particular. It’s good for expanding the reach and flexibility of the powers,, but not so much for controlling and restricting them)

This leads to Miles having INSANE spiritual energy and Pearly and Maya can FEEL it when he’s around,, but he sucks at controlling it. He’ll look down the hall in the courthouse to the elevator where his dad got killed and hear screams and see blood. In 3-5 when Dahlia un-possesses Maya in a fit of rage,, she DIVES for Miles and possesses him in a last-ditch attempt to kill Phoenix in pure fury. Miles can’t stop it or control anything that’s happening as Dahlia uses his body to jump over the desk and lunge at Phoenix in an attempt to strangle him,, and it’s only stopped by Phoenix pulling the demon-warding hood from the court record and tying it around Miles’ head. Thankfully it was painfully obvious that Miles wasn’t himself because his appearance and voice changed (Kurain Technique style) - his hair got longer and braided itself to match Dahlia’s,, and his suit jacket suddenly didn’t fit correctly since Dahlia’s much smaller in stature than him. Phoenix attests to this and Miles thankfully gets off scot-free,, but it could’ve easily been another Reunion and Turnabout-type situation with a spirit medium murdering someone while they were channeling someone who was already dead.

Afterwards Maya drags Miles to Hazakura Temple to do the special training courses with her. Miles enjoys it although he hates being imperfect at something (we hate Manfred in this house),, but Maya is very kind and supportive to her older brother 😌

[wraithsoutlaws]

[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: ASHLEY "ZEPHYR" ZAIDE ]

NAME? This isn’t an interrogation, right? Y’know legally you have to tell me if you’re with the NCPD… NICKNAME? Well, Zephyr usually. I always liked it more. My aunt was the first one to call me that and it felt like sliding into a pair of old shoes that already fit real well and you don’t gotta break in again, you know what I mean?  GENDER? He/him baby. See this cool pin I got?  STAR SIGN? I guess I’m a cancer, but Misty knows more about that than I do. She knows everything about that stuff. She made a whole fucking chart about it once, tracked every second of my life based on stars alone. And it was fucking right, too. Spooky as hell if you ask me but I do like listening to her talk about it. She gets this crinkly little smile.  HEIGHT? I’m 5’7’’ which isn’t far off from the average height for men, by the way. If you care.  ORIENTATION? Truth be told, I’m not real picky.  FAVORITE FRUIT? I gotta go with cherry. I don’t really eat ‘em a lot, but fuck me, it’s one of the best flavors out there, isn’t it? I got this cherry flavored–you know what? Nevermind…hey, if you like fruit I know where to get the best ‘ganic plums you’ve ever tasted. All above board, of course. Legal like. Just let me know.  FAVORITE SEASON? I like the Summer…reminds me of being a kid. Before things went to shit… FAVORITE FLOWER? I dunno, I like those little weeds that come up through the cracks in the sidewalk. Little fucking guys. I try not to step on ‘em. FAVORITE SCENT? I got this incense from Misty’s Esoterica and I couldn’t tell you a single fucking thing about it, it’s not really my jam but…every time I light it it’s like she’s standing right next to me. Makes my place feel better. COFFEE OR TEA? Misty keeps pushing this special tea blend on me. Says its holy or, er…holistic. It tastes like fucking socks if you ask me, though I’m not really big on coffee either. Give me a few lines of synth-coke y’know, don’t be a pussy. I mean, not that I do that sort of thing. AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP? Kinda depends, I guess. Some nights I sleep like a baby. Others feel like they’ll never end…more of those than not these days, I guess. DOG OR CAT PERSON? I don’t really trust dogs. Been chased a couple times and bit in the ass more than I can count. Come to think of it, I don’t really trust cats either. They can see shit, you know. Right through you. I mean whatever happened to hamsters? But whatever man. If you’re in the market for some exotics, I got you covered. DREAM TRIP? Oh, I’m just counting the days and the eddies ‘til I can hightail it outta this city and settle down on a beach in Belize or the Bahamas away from all this shit. Sip a fuckin’ mai tai on a clean beach and watch the waves every morning.  FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER? Who’s that fucking dog…he does this little dance. I dunno, always makes me laugh though.  NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH? You’re assuming I make it to the bed…I mean, of course I do. Couple nights in the elevator don’t mean anything…just because I know the feeling of my bathroom floor better than my own mattress–hey, maybe I should leave the blankets in there? Shit. I’m kidding, obviously. I’m a normal guy. What–what was the question again? RANDOM FACT? I got a junk shop in Japantown, got anything you need or I can find it fast, and that’s a guarantee. Just don’t ask anymore questions, alright?

was tagged by @therealnightcity and wanted to complete the trifecta of my boys!! once again, won't be tagging anyone but as always feel free to tag me, i would love to read more!

[peach-and-bugs]

💗Misty Quigley SFW Alphabet💗

💗Read the NSFW Alphabet here! (+18)💗

Fanfiction masterlist

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: None! all fluff in this one

Word Count: 1,913

A/N: Hello Loves! I needed to work on Misty's characterization, so I wrote two alphabets for her! These made me so much more excited to write more for Misty, so expect more from her soon as well as more alphabets for Yellowjacket characters because I love my girls. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!💗

Misty Quigley Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💗-

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Misty is extremely affectionate, almost to a fault. She's extremely touchy-feely and likes holding hands, linking arms, and touching fingers. She craves any kind of physical contact. She's also a true romantic. She’s extremely attentive and intends to care for you till the day either of you dies. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Well, we've seen her as a best friend and she’s extremely loyal, doing anything to protect or assist her friends, even if it's covering up a murder. She is that ride-or-die friend that will say “Show me the body. I've got a shovel in my trunk” 

As for how a friendship would start, that could be for a variety of different reasons. As an adult, you honestly could have run into her anywhere. I think friendship would mostly start if you ran into her regularly, so you become part of her routine in a way and show some kind of interest in her she’ll be gung ho on becoming friends.  

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Misty is very touchy, so, of course, she loves to cuddle. I think her favorite way to cuddle would be snuggled under a blanket with you either reading a book or watching a movie on the couch. She loved it when you cuddle up against her shoulder or with her arm around you with you at her side. She also loves pressing against your back with her arms around you in bed as the big spoon so she can hear your heartbeat. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Oh for sure! Misty seems like the type to have a designated cleaning day for the house and maybe even a chore chart if you lived together. I mean, just look at how tentative she is with cleaning Caligula’s cage. She has to treat her whole house like that. She enjoys domestic life a lot with you, especially cooking together. If you don’t know how she’d love to teach you to cook because it’s one of her greatest loves in life. As long as she has a clean living space, 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would probably be very confusing. You might not even realize she broke up with you because she’d be so upset about it. She’d talk too fast and not flat-out say that she was breaking up with you, but she would be extremely dramatic about it, which does not understand your comprehension of the situation

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

She’d be pretty grand go in my opinion, but it’s purely out of her excitement that you like her and she likes you so much! Misty is the type where you gotta gently set firm boundaries with her about going over the top or jumping in too fast because she’s the commitment type and she clings on fast. She craves to be loved and when she gets that affection she wants to hold onto it forever, so marrying you is the logical way to do that, right? 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

She does her best to be as gentle as she can. She’d never want anything to hurt you, so of course she wouldn’t do anything to perpetuate that. She learned from her experience crushing on Coach and will hold you close to her chest like a feather if that’s what she needs to do. This can make her overprotective and clingy at times, but she means well

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She loves hugs! She is the type to wrap you up in her arms and squeeze very tight, swaying you from side to side. She’d hug you all the time if she could, but at the very least once in the morning and once in the evening. She loves hugging you from behind and vice versa. She feels like her heart could explode whenever you initiate a hug with her

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Very quickly. Probably too quickly, but she doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just extremely confident in her feelings and wants them to be known, especially to you because she loves you!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh, she’s a jealous girly. She isn’t the sharing type (most of the time). What’s hers is hers and she likes it to stay that way. She becomes snippy when she’s jealous and often gives the cold shoulder, but she’s not upset with you. Jealousy is more something that damages her pride over her trust in you. However, if you purposely played into whatever is making her jealous she might shatter

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Misty has a wide very variety of kisses in her arsenal. One of her favorites has to be the sneaky peck on the cheek when you aren’t paying attention or her classic barrage of kisses all over your face. She just lives to kiss you all over, just like how she loves hugging you all the time!

However, when things get particularly steamy, she’s nice, gentle, and slow till she isn’t. She's the type to playfully bite your lip and giggle about it due to how proud of herself she is. She also loves taking deep inhales when she kisses your neck just to breathe in as much of you as she can at once. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Misty is a little shaky around kids, but she tries her best. She doesn’t exactly know how she should interact and what she should say, but if you’re good with kids she’ll learn quickly by copying you, and then eventually she’ll get the hang of it. At last, she hopes she does

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Misty is quite clingy in the morning especially. She doesn’t like it when you leave bed before her or when she has to leave you. If you asked her when she was waking up, she would 100% be your human backpack throughout your day. She just loves the feeling of you tangled in her and the sheets with the sun shining in through the windows over you and her together

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

She loves coming home to make dinner with you in the kitchen, sharing gentle silent touches as you pass one another while cooking only to eat what you prepared together. She’ll offer to do the dishes but you’ll ultimately do them together before settling in to cuddle on the couch to watch tv before bed.  

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Misty’s an open book about most things. Nearly every card in her hand is on the table, splayed out clearly for you to see and read, but some things she keeps to her chest, which isn’t something you should mind. Maybe she’ll tell you one day or maybe she won't. Only time can tell

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She’s quite patient with you, but she can have a temper with other things. She’s quicker to sadness or frustration than she is to anger

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

Misty is an encyclopedia when it comes to you. It’s like she has a special filing cabinet with your name on it in her brain that’s labeled from A through Z with everything you’ve ever told her, but she tries not to let you know that

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Probably when you told her you loved her. Even though she said it quite quickly, you likely took some time, which was ok, but the moment you told her she felt like her whole world was finally perfect and complete. She might bring up that marriage thing (possibly again if she’d mentioned it before) but that's a longer conversation to revisit later

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

She might not look it, but Misty is quite the protector. She’s not above petty revenge or just revenge in general. She's loyal sometimes to a fault and makes sure those she cares for are treated right. 

But while she’s quite the protector, she’d feel so spoiled if you protected her back. It’s not something she get’s very often and the action might just turn her too much

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

Misty is the queen of extravagance. Go big or go home is her motto, but that can get quite overwhelming for some. While she loves grande gestures, you might be more of the type to stay in for a quiet night and she can do that too! Any time with you is enough for her, no matter how big or how small. Though she might still throw in her grand gestures sometimes

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She can be a lot sometimes, which is hard for her to hear because she’s a pretty heavy perfectionist. Hearing she’s not doing something right makes her feel like she’s completely failed. She can all or nothing sometimes, but she knows she’s gotta work on it

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She’s very concerned with her hair every day, but on special occasions, she will spend far too much time obsessing in her mirror about every minor detail of her face. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, she would. She enjoys phone when you’re apart just to check in and make sure you’re alright and hear how your day has been, but she does her very best to still give you the space you need

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Her love languages are physical touch and acts of service, 100%. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She doesn’t like negative nellies. Or at the very least, she’ll try her best to get people to look on the bright side of things. She’s a fixer, which is hard sometimes, but she's confident she’s got it all under control

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

She likes listening to your heartbeat when you’re sleeping beside each other and taking in the smell of your skin. She also pokes her toes out of the covers almost every night, no matter the temperature. She says its because she likes the feeling of the air

[priincekin]

Artifice - Hyuluka Oneshot

When Hyuna is coerced into accompanying her celebrity ex, Luka, to a lavish event, their troubled past and unresolved tensions resurface.

CW for an unhealthy relationship dynamic and manipulation!

For in depth tags, please check the AO3 upload. (Coming soon)

"Remind me why the hell I agreed to this?" Hyuna muttered under her breath, tugging at her too-short slip dress that clung tightly to every curve while simultaneously trying to adjust her thigh-highs, casting a glare at Luka across the limo. “… Send my compliments to your stylist for making me into a knock-off Barbie, and then tell ‘em to go play in traffic!”

Luka, of course, didn’t acknowledge her provocations. Nooooo, he was too busy prettying himself up, mascara wand poised. Figures.

Hyuna's frustration simmered as she watched him, his indifference stoking her anger.

Her eyes then fell once more on the infuriating list of 'rules' Luka had drafted for the evening. She had seen the paper before and thrown it away, but seeing that Luka went through the effort to print another one was enough to piss her off all over again. The neatly typed instructions on the crumpled paper seemed to mock her with their orderly bullets and condescending tone and Heperu’s letterhead.

“Now listen here, sweet cheeks, and listen good," she burst out, holding up the paper. “For the last time, I ain’t followin’ these rules, quit givin’ me more of these papers! You can shove ‘em right up your—“

"Please mind your language, Miss Hyuna,"

"Oh bite me! We all know I'm just arm candy, and it ain’t hard to stroke your ego for a few hours. Trust me. I’d know. So fuck off and lemme live a little! They're a joke.” She looked back down at the sheet with a scoff. “’Giggle, don’t laugh' - really? Who you tryin’ to turn me into?!”

God, the way they were arguing almost reminded her of old times. Back when he was her high-school sweetheart. Though, she was shocked he wasn’t being more argumentative toward her. By the end, Luka’s good moods were becoming rarer and rarer, and just being around him was like walking on eggshells. For a bit, Hyuna had made excuses for him — of course, with her temper, there was only so long until she was bound to explode.

Once she had blown up, the relationship was, of course, doomed. There was no recovery from the things she had said. They broke up over text. Yet, even though it was technically her fault, Luka leaving town soon after still wasn't just a minor plot twist; it was a full-on mindfuck. She'd catch herself getting all misty-eyed over their cheesy ice cream dates, where they'd crack up at the lamest jokes, or those beautiful nights in the deserted auditorium. Luka serenading her like she was the only girl in the world. Pity his dad slammed the brakes on that short-lived romantic gesture and forbade him from ever doing it again.

And then, after all that, Luka just had to go and get famous. Suddenly, his face was everywhere – magazines, billboards, you name it. Each time Hyuna saw that face, she reminded herself she should feel lucky to be rid of him, and that she had herself to thank for it.

But then, the tabloids started flaunting photos of Luka with his new girl of the month, and oh, did that grind her gears, even though Dewey and Isaac kept telling her it was nothing.

Was it jealousy? Boredom? Or maybe just an allergic reaction to being erased by some blond bombshell with a plastic smile? Whatever it was, hearing about each breakup was like savoring a fine wine; that was, until Luka had the nerve to show up at her door, needing a date for some swanky party after his newest beau gave him the middle finger.

Hyuna sank back into the velvet seat, her attention snapping back to the moment. Her fingers flirted with the edges of what was possibly the world's most irritating shawl, offering about as much modesty as a cocktail napkin. The silence was unbearably awkward; she had to fill it somehow.

“… A compliment wouldn’t kill ya, you know. Or is it too hard to admit you’re dazzled by all this?” With a teasing flourish, she let the shawl slip just a tad, winking and blowing a kiss for good measure.

Luka glanced up and quickly gave her a once-over, sighing in disappointment. “I would not say that. I feel like you should be more focused on having an amicable attitude rather than needlessly flirting.”

“Uh-huh. Yep, I’m totally flirting. Maybe if these heels weren't giving me so many damn blisters, I’d be in a better mood. But ‘till then, the only smiling I'll be doing is smiling through the pain. Now, pass the champagne, will ya?” She held out her hand.

Luka protectively moved the bottle away from her. “Please reference page four, line five of the contract. There is a clause stating that, should you be intoxicated or otherwise behave troublingly during the event, your payment will be voided and you will owe me three more dates as reparation.” He tried, in vain, to hide his smug little grin.

“There’s a what?!” Hyuna scrambled to pick the paper back up, and lo and behold; right there, in the tiniest font imaginable, was exactly what Luka had said. “Oh, you little—”

“Miss Hyuna.”

Hyuna forced herself to take a deep breath. ‘This shit is for Hyun-woo’, she reminded herself. ‘Do it for him.’

As cheesy as it was, her brother was the light of her life. For being an eleven-year-old boy, Hyun-woo was surprisingly sweet. Not at all like the assholes he went to school with, Hyuna had made sure of that much.

After she won sole custody of him, all of the expenses had fallen onto her shoulders: the bills, food, his allowance, and seemingly a million other things. Most of the time, she could make it work, even on her pathetic bartender’s paycheck.

But Christmas was a whole different kind of struggle. Living paycheck to paycheck meant there was never extra cash for Hyun-woo’s presents. The real sting was in the simplicity of his wishes – a DS game, a cheap Nerf gun, an outdated board game. That's all he wanted that year. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she saved, some unavoidable expense always reared its ugly head, draining away her meager savings. It seemed like there was no other way.

Finally, the limo pulled up to a grand mansion, its lights casting a cold glow over the entrance. Hyuna peered out the window, noticing two girls at the doorway: one in a suit with long pink hair, discreetly fiddling with a ring box in her pocket, and the other, with short black hair, clad in a white dress. At least some people were having a nice time.

“Well, ain't this just peachy," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "A regular palace for Prince Charming and his temporary Cinderella."

Luka finally looked up, meeting her eyes. “Now that we're here, remember to smile and wave. It's all about appearances, isn't it?" He forced a smile himself as if to set an example, but it only soured her mood further. “Though, you are certainly at an advantage with how beautiful you are.”

“Too late for the compliment, buddy.” Hyuna rolled her eyes. “I'll smile and wave. Like I'm a damn parade float." She opened the limo door and stepped out, her heels clicking against the cobblestone driveway. The cold air hit her and made her wish, yet again, for a longer dress.

Luka, as if by magic, whipped out a plush white fur coat from the trunk and slung it over Hyuna's shoulders with a flourish. For a split second, she almost bought into it, the coat's luxurious softness tricking her into thinking he might actually care. Was he finally clued into how uncomfortable she was? To how exposed she felt? She let herself indulge in that thought, the tension in her shoulders easing off a notch as she grabbed his outstretched hand, her cheeks betraying a reluctant blush.

Then, wham. The scent hit her -– a blend of chrysanthemums and wilted roses, laced with bitter almonds. It was perfume, and definitely not her brand. That's when it clicked. This wasn't some chivalrous move; it was Luka’s version of peacocking, a display for the few nosy onlookers ogling at them. They were absolutely eating it up.

Hyuna’s grip on his hand turned from soft to vice-like, not out of romance, but so she didn’t facepalm right there and then.

How utterly 'Luka' to turn even a coat into a performance.

Hyuna shuddered, skin crawling under the perfumed fur. "Wow, so generous!” She whisper-yelled. “Real classy, Luka! Decking me out in a coat you lent to your last fling? What's the grand plan here, recycling her bling for me next?”

Luka tsked under his breath. "The one time I attempted kindness with you... How fascinating, though, that you care so much about what she did.”

They entered the glittering ballroom, all string quartets and designer outfits straight from the pages of Vogue. Hyuna sized up the crowd, mentally tagging each socialite with the most absurd names she could think of.

As Luka steered them towards the center, Hyuna operated on autopilot — a plastered smile, forced giggles at their pretentious bragging just as Luka asked. But, instinctively, she occasionally leaned over and muttered to Luka under her breath:

"You think that dude knows his fake tan is literally dripping down his arm?"

"Twenty bucks says that girl trips on her dress. God, it looks like she’s wearing a curtain…"

“Manners, darling.”

“It’s either I say it to you or I say it to their faces,” she hissed back.

‘Four hours.’, she chanted inwardly. Then sweet freedom and her even sweeter paycheck.

Hyuna continued to trail behind as Luka flitted from one circle of guests to the next. Her cheeks ached from keeping a smile while straining to laugh daintily at comments ranging from dull to outright crude and dehumanizing.

After the fifth round of banal small talk about vacation homes and polo tournaments, Hyuna found herself practically wilting into the plush fur coat. God, even the coat was getting on her nerves. Its cloying floral scent made her stomach turn, and she couldn't stop fidgeting with the garish ruffles lining the sleeves.

Luka suddenly clamped a firm hand on her wrist, stilling its motions. "Stop that. Honestly, your manners tonight..." He sighed, guiding her toward the dance floor where a few couples swayed lazily. "Just try to enjoy yourself a little?"

Luka drew Hyuna near, seemingly for a waltz. She opened her mouth to object, but reluctantly rested a hand on his shoulder, resisting the childish urge to stomp on his polished boots. As they began half-heartedly twirling, Hyuna felt remarkably disconnected — it was nothing like the way they used to dance — but it wasn’t long before a burst of coos and applause pulled her eyes toward the garden entrance. There stood the two girls from earlier, both with tears in her eyes. One had dropped to her knee, presenting a ring with trembling hands.

"Oh, would you look at that?" Luka smiled softly. "I suppose this manor would look awfully nice in the proposal pictures.”

Hyuna usually wasn’t a sucker for such cheesy moments. Still, she couldn't help but track the heartwarming scene over Luka's shoulder. A real proposal, she mused. No pretense or strings attached...

Hyuna started to turn around to watch, but everything was ruined by one uneven floor tile.

Mid-spin, her stiletto caught on it, sending her flailing backward. She crashed to the floor — thank God for Luka’s coat, or else it would’ve been even worse.

A horrified collective gasp echoed as every head swiveled her way, including the two girls. The applause and music ceased with a screech. In the excruciating silence, she felt hundreds of eyes boring into her, Luka’s especially. His grip closed on her arm, wrenching her upright with a sharp whisper. “What did I say about manners? You just ruined their entire proposal.”

Hyuna felt her cheeks burn red-hot, as guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause that was totally on purpose! Screw askin’ me if I’m okay, right?” She whispered back, wishing that Luka would just shut his mouth and try to cover for her.

"I cannot believe you've embarrassed me like this, after everything I've done." Luka's usual composure cracked, voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "The other guests can hardly look at me now. This appearance was crucial for my image, not to mention our agreement, and you..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. His fingers dug into the fur coat with white knuckles before he released her. When Luka raised his eyes to meet hers, he looked absolutely disgusted.

"Just get out of my sight. I need to salvage what remains of this wretched evening."

Hyuna weakly scoffed, then pulled herself free to sketch a barely passable curtsy to the crowd. “Sorry for the unplanned entertainment tonight,” she called out, trying to ignore the sobs. “As you were!” Ignoring the whispers echoing around her, she beelined away from Luka; anywhere but there was good enough for her.

Hyuna shoved through the murmuring crowd, cheeks burning under the weight of so many prying eyes. The stilettos clicked loudly against the tile floor as she muttered insults towards the gawkers blocking her escape. Just as the cool night air kissed her bare shoulders, a familiar voice called out.

"Heyyyyyy, Hyuna! Fancy seein' ya here!"

She whirled around, a biting retort poised on her lips. But there stood Dewey and Isaac, surprisingly dapper in their mismatched suits and shit-eating grins. Despite her overwhelming emotions, Hyuna couldn't restrain a hint of a smile. Leave it to these two knuckleheads to appear from thin air when she needed it most. Hyuna placed her hands on her hips, arching an eyebrow.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "This ain't exactly an open-invitation party, geniuses."

Isaac rocked eagerly on his heels. "Oh it was easy peasy to sneak in the kitchen door while them fancy waiters were distracted. Plus, you mentioned you'd be ‘ere with, uh… Y’know, Mr. High-and-Mighty," he said, gesturing vaguely toward Luka's direction. “Wanted to see how it’d play out since he’s such an--”

Dewey quickly clamped a hand over Isaac's rambling mouth. "Can the chatter before we get tossed out!" He shot Hyuna a sheepish grin. "Just, uh, wanted to check in on ya. Make sure princey isn't being too much of a sleaze."

"A sleaze? Nah, try self-centered jackass," she replied, launching into a recap of the disastrous proposal scene. Dewey and Isaac's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"No way he blamed you for that!" Dewey scoffed. "What a prick."

Hyuna threw her hands up in exasperation. "Thank you! Guy drives me absolutely insane."

Isaac gave an enthusiastic nod and dove a hand into his suit pocket. "Yeah. Hey, uh, you guys tried the shrimp? I snatched a bunch when those waiter guys weren't lookin'." He held up a fistful of mangled cocktail shrimp, tails dangling limply.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?!” When Isaac raised the shrimp to his mouth, Hyuna swatted it out of his hand and onto the floor. “Rule one of stealing food! Bring a ziplock or tupperware!”

Isaac dejectedly stared down at the shrimp on the floor. “... I ran out of ziplocks.” His lip quivered like he was about to cry.

“Then buy more! You have a job!” Hyuna whisper-yelled, playfully hitting him in the shoulder. “Unless you got fired again!”

A prickling unease crept over Hyuna as she felt eyes boring into her back.

“Uh… girl? You might wanna turn around…” Dewey said, pointing behind her.

Luka was staring. His polished composure had vanished, replaced by clenched fists and an infuriated glare. Stalking over to her, his expression

"We need to talk. Now." Luka's grabbed tightly onto Hyuna's arm as he steered her away. She shot a helpless look back to Dewey and Isaac.

"Get your paws off me!" She shook out of his grasp. "You don't own me, Luka. I can talk to whoever I damn well please-"

Luka's bitter scoff cut her off as he took her wrist yet again. "Oh yes, cozying up to a pair of hoodlums should shine brilliantly in the gossip columns."

Finally, they reached an inconspicuous, plain door. Luka pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit linen closet. With a swift movement, he pulled her inside and shut the door behind them, plunging them into near darkness, the only light coming from the crack under the door. Hyuna bristled, backing herself away from him and towards the wall.

“Why are we here?! Someone definitely saw us come in here, and you know what they probably think we’re doin’ right now?! They prolly think--”

Luka leaned close, taking a deep breath. "This night was already disastrous enough without you flirting to make me jealous." He paused. "Go ahead, deny that's what you wanted."

“What are you talking about?! You literally told me to get away from you!” Hyuna's retort came out quieter than she intended as Luka’s hands found the curve of her waist, pulling her closer. The cold of his body against hers was so disgusting but oh so familiar, and Hyuna found herself melting into it. But she still felt his eyes on her, watching her every movement as he stared up at her from her chest.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hyuna muttered.

Luka’s eyes finally closed, sighing softly. “Like what?”

“Like I’m something you own,” She finally found it in her to try pushing him away, and to his credit, his grip faltered. “You know damn well I hate when you get all possessive, ‘specially over Dewey and—”

“It’s not about them,” Luka cuts in sharply.

“Oh, please! They’re so gay for each other, you’d have to be blind not to—”

“That’s not the point, Hyuna!”

“Yeah, well, you’re choosing to be a dick about it!”

Before Hyuna could say anything more, his lips found hers in a kiss. Hyuna’s eyes widened. She didn’t kiss back, but she didn’t pull away either; for all she cared, he could kiss himself breathless.

Hyuna’s pulse raced as her heart, slowly but surely, began to betray her. She hated him, sure, but somewhere, buried under layers of hurt and pride, a fragment of what used to be lingered. This wasn’t about wanting him. It was about wanting what they used to have. She’d always been too stubborn to let go of things…

As his kiss deepened, Hyuna's resistance finally crumbled.

This was stupid.

She found herself responding with equal fervor, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The small space seemed to shrink further.

So stupid.

Hyuna closed her eyes, letting him close what little distance was left between them. But it didn’t feel close enough.

She hated herself for this.

Breaking the kiss, Luka’s breath was ragged against her lips. “This is the end for us, isn’t it?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Instead of answering, she reached down, pulling him back up to her, their lips meeting yet again. This wasn’t just about pretenses or contracts. This was something raw, something real that wasn’t supposed to happen.

What felt like an eternity passed between them before she pulled away, a sad, sardonic smile playing on her lips.

Thank God the room was dark, or else Luka might’ve seen the angry tears clouding her vision.

"... ‘course, you had to start tryin’ to be sweet at the worst time.”

Luka looked at her, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "This isn't about timing, Miss Hyuna. This is about…"

"About what? Us?" Hyuna cut him off, sidestepping further into the shadows of the closet. "There is no 'us', remember? We're just a couple of fucked-up people who can't seem to stay away from each other, even after years." She crossed her arms, her heart racing. "I ain’t doin’ this anymore. That kiss? That was it. Now, are we gonna be adults about it and end this for good, or are you gonna keep bein’ in denial?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Hyuna let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Right, ‘cause everything's gotta be complicated with you. Newsflash, Luka, it doesn't have to be. We make it complicated. Mostly you. This was all supposed to be fake, but nope, you took me into a closet and started makin’ out with me.”

For a moment, Luka was silent. Then, with a sigh, he stepped back, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I suppose it's time we face reality. This... whatever it is, between us, it's not healthy."

The words, though expected, stung Hyuna more than she cared to admit. She should’ve been grateful that he didn’t keep fighting it, but nope. Her heart was sinking. But she nodded, her own resolve steeling. "Yep. It’s time.”

Luka reached out, his hand trembling with unspoken words. “Hyuna, I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted sharply. “Just don’t. Spare us the dramatics.”

There was a pause, heavy and laden, as Luka seemed to process the information. Then, like a scene from a worn-out play, his charm slid back into place, smooth and unnervingly familiar. It was like he became an entirely new person in a matter of seconds, and Hyuna bristled.

“On second thought… Darling, you’re seeing this all wrong,” he said. “We’re a match made in heaven, you and I.”

Hyuna’s attempt to step back was futile; Luka’s grasp was firm yet gentle. “Luka, cut the crap. I know what you’re doin’.”

“But think of what we’ve shared. Our dates, the outings, me holding you when you cry.”

“And the fights? The tears? The screaming matches in the school janitor's closet? Dammit Luka, you were the reason I was crying!” Hyuna countered, her voice wavering.

“Hyuna, darling, that’s how relationships work. We bicker, yes, but we never fail to come back together…”

“You left,” Hyuna snapped. A knot of anger and hurt tightened in her chest. His words were half-truths and blatant manipulation, and yet she still began to feel swayed.

“You know very well that was my Father’s decision for my career and not my own.”

“But did ya fight back?! Probably not, ‘cause since when do you think for yourself?”

Luka lowered his voice, clearly giving up. “... Aside from that, who understands you as I do?” Luka’s voice was soft, almost persuasive, his words carefully chosen. “We’re inevitable, Hyuna. Stay with me, and your brother’s future is secure. That’s a promise only I can make.”

“You… really?” Her resolve wavered further. Luka was stupid rich; if he wanted to, he could pay for her brother’s college education. She’d never have to worry about paying for his gifts ever again. Luka was right. This was a promise only he could make.

“You’re so damn impossible,” she muttered, caught in the tempest of his gaze. Reluctantly, she found herself drawn into his embrace, their lips meeting in a bitter kiss of surrender.

Was it really so wrong to fall back into this cycle? To choose the devil she at least knew over uncertainty?

As their kiss deepened, her doubts seemed to dissolve into the heat of the moment.

[affiesque]

As promised, here’s the second half of my random thoughts and observations about Desire Catcher now that I’ve finished my latest rewatch (links aren’t working for me right now, but if you want to read the first half just click on one of the tags on this post and it should come up easily). The entire series is 24 episodes, most of which are somewhere between 35 and 45 minutes long - so, depending on what types of shows you usually watch, it might be a bit of a commitment. But I definitely think it’s worth it.

OK, time to brace yourself, as there’s a lot going on in this second part…

At the halfway mark the relationship between Luo Fei and Lu Fengping is starting to fray (oh look, it's my good friend angst again) - essentially, Lu Fengping is frustrated that his mom’s murder remains unsolved and Luo Fei hasn’t given him much in the way of clues like he was supposed to. Lu Fengping ends up working with the main villain (Bai Ya Xing), who is behind all of the crimes/murders that have been happening, to find his mom’s killer and get revenge. (I won’t spoil the details, but I will say that this particular storyline could probably have used some fleshing out, as the details and motivations don’t quite come together in the end. As I’ve noted before, the real draw with Desire Catcher is the relationships, so you can kind of wave those plot holes away - unless that sort of thing really bothers you, which I totally get.)

There’s a bit of a cat-and-mouse game going on throughout the middle episodes, with Lu Fengping getting more cagey and Luo Fei chasing after him a bit, attempting to figure out what he’s hiding. You get Luo Fei trying to casually inquire with multiple people as to Lu Fengping’s whereabouts when he’s gone for no more than a couple of hours at a time (we get it bro, you’re obsessed), not to mention lurking in the shadows near his apartment at night (yikes, dude). During this period there are definitely times when Lu Fengping looks almost guilty for pulling away and for what he’s planning to do, like he wants to confide in Luo Fei but he can’t - there’s a particular wistfulness to his expressions that’s so on point and gets me every time.

One nice little touch throughout is the many dinner dates the two leads go on - granted, one ends with Luo Fei leaving before they even eat anything, and another has him answering Lu Fengping’s question “Does everyone look like a suspect to you?” with “Yes - you look like one too,” so not exactly the most romantic situations (social skills are not Luo Fei’s strong point). But I am a sucker for those little intimate moments - misty evenings with blurry streetlights, tables piled high with steaming dishes and clinking glasses, the muted conversations of the people around them - and of course the sharing food = love symbolism.

Speaking of tropes, if you’re a fan of jealousy, then DC has got you covered. Again, no big plot spoilers here but Luo Fei finds out Lu Fengping has brought a girl home one night - not for the reason he (or anyone else) thinks, but you can tell he’s in his feelings about it (and Lu Fengping, I love you, but maybe in the future do not kidnap a stranger - even if you had your reasons and you were sort of helping her in the moment). He ends up getting arrested (twice!) for the abduction and when Luo Fei fails to help him, their “big breakup” begins in earnest - Lu Fengping saying “I shouldn’t have counted on you right from the start” got me right in the heart, ngl.

*Books as symbolism alert* - we get just one shot of some books strewn around Lu Fengping’s apartment in the second half, but I did find it interesting that the subtitles call out two of them specifically, which feels important. Those are “The Sea, The Sea” by Iris Murdoch and “It Takes More Than A Carrot And A Stick” by Wess Roberts. The former is about love and loss and romantic ideals by an author known for writing about morality and the power of the unconscious - things that seem relevant to a hypnotist, I would think. The latter actually made me laugh audibly when I noticed the subtitle: “Practical Ways Of Getting Along With People You Can’t Avoid At Work.” Sounds about right for them.

Here’s another alert - BIG GIANT SPOILERS AHEAD!! Click below with caution…

OK, so the big event of the second half is Lu Fengping faking his death(!!) in order to give him the time and space away from Luo Fei/the police to move ahead with his revenge plan. Long story short, Luo Fei thinks Lu Fengping has blown himself up, goes through the five stages of grief, figures out he’s still alive and somehow manages to be like, “Hey, thought you were dead but no biggie - let’s not even hug it out and instead just go right back to teasing each other and solving crimes - it’s all good.” Honestly, I’m glossing over a lot here - how absolutely devastated Luo Fei (and everyone else, for that matter) is when he thinks Lu Fengping is dead, how they finally yell a bit about their feelings and come clean about certain things when they reunite, how the OST rips your heart out again and again in these moments (“Did we meet just to be torn apart?” - I mean, come on), how relieved Lu Fengping looks when he realizes that Luo Fei doesn’t hate him for what he did, how Luo Fei suddenly can’t stop smiling (you’ve come a long way, baby). I think these are probably some of the strongest scenes in the entire show, but I must admit that the way they don’t truly address the fallout of something this intense still bugs me (stay tuned for a fic I’m writing on that very topic, in case that sort of thing interests you - and @thinkonce-acttwice, I ✨promise✨ I’m actually working on it!).

I know I haven’t mentioned Liang Yin in this second-half review yet - what happened/happens to her still plays a major role in the story of Lu Fengping’s mom’s death. I won’t give the details here, but do note that there are some flashback scenes of her getting attacked that might be rough for some viewers - so please keep that in mind. However, aside from a couple of moments where the men in her life feel the need to protect/shelter her despite her being quite capable of handling things herself, I will say that the story gives her back some agency, and it does feel as if by the end she’s come to terms with her past and is in a good place overall. And the relationship between her, Luo Fei, and Lu Fengping gets a really nice resolution - a sort of found family thing that brings them all together.

There’s lots of plot movement as we work our way through the final episodes - the big bad villain is vilaining, there’s an evil nurse who’s in on the shenanigans, poor Professor Ling (Lu Fengping’s mentor and fellow hypnotist) gets accused of being a fraud and ends up in the hospital, Lu Fengping almost stabs himself in the heart while hypnotized by Bai Ya Xing (though of course Luo Fei shows up in the nick of time to save him - I swear, despite knowing that this is just a “bromance” show, every time I watch that scene there’s one split second where it seems like they’re about to lean in and kiss - oof), poor Liang Yin gets kidnapped by the big bad villain (unfortunately, more “man pain”). I tell you, this show is a roller coaster ride every freaking episode.

I won’t spoil the final ending too much, but rest assured Liang Yin is fine. Stuff happens, Lu Fengping ends up in prison - though he sort of puts himself there on purpose, sacrificing himself for Luo Fei, even if he doesn’t come out and say that’s what he’s doing. And he basically gets a form of justice for his mom’s death. The very last bit sees him return from prison on parole - he reunites with the police team and Luo Fei in a slightly cheesy but rather touching moment, though, again, even just a quick hug would’ve been nice…

Bottom line, I love all of them, your honor, and will probably never be over this show - there’s so much to unpack in terms of the role of fate in our lives, how broken people can find something in each other to live for, how to forgive others and, importantly, yourself.

OK, again, this one got away from me, and I know I’m probably forgetting like a million little things, but hopefully I’ve managed to entertain at least one other person with my ramblings. And if anything here has sounded intriguing, please check this little show out so it gets the love it deserves! 🖤

[olath124]

OC INTERVIEW

THANK YOU @ouroboros-hideout for the tag!

Violet is going to answer in a sincere way. She is a firm believer in a fake it till you make it, so she's usually more cool and collected than her spontaneous answers. But I liked to have a glimpse in her mind so she’d answer as she was speaking to herself.

My comments are enclosed in*...* and yes, using an old image because too lazy to make another one xD.

NAME?

Violet… Wright.

Don't like other people knowing my name.

NICKNAME?

V.

When I was a kid Jackie used to call me Violent. Then Ultraviolent. Then UV. Then simply V. That's quite the jump. When I got back and he called me V again, as nothing had changed, I knew I was home.

GENDER?

Female, cis.

STAR SIGN?

Hmmm… Aries? I’d have to ask Misty.

But she said I am passionate, stubborn, and prone to anger as every Aries, and I tend to believe her.

HEIGHT?

Yes, I know, I'm small. 1.65 cm.

I've always been small and when you're surrounded by buffed Valentinos that's an issue. But lately, it's proven useful. I'd rather be small and quick than big and hard to miss!

ORIENTATION?

I don't care, if someone sparkles my interest I stay with them as long as we fit together. I’m probably pansexual, or probably heteroflexible, but I've never really thought about it in depth.

FAVORITE FRUIT?

Fruit!? It's hard to find real good fruit in Heywood. But once Mama Welles bought real cherries for something special and Jackie stole them. I can't get that taste out of my head!

FAVORITE SEASON?

I like winter. I like the colder weather. I wish it would snow sometimes.

FAVORITE FLOWER?

Should it be violets? I hope not, but when I go out with someone who knows my name they always give me violets. It's embarrassing. If I had to pick a flower I'd pick peonies. But I don't care much about flowers anyway.

FAVORITE SCENT?

Tobacco. Not smoke, I don't like the smell of smoke. But I love the smell of tobacco. And a hint of vanilla, I think!

COFFEE OR TEA?

Coffee, usually. Tea on special occasions.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP?

It may vary a lot. If I need to stay awake or if the adrenaline is high I can stay awake. I've spent a few days when I had to… do a lot of stuff without sleeping. But when I finally stop I crash hard. I can sleep for 12-14 hours at a time.

*Vio, you’re a mess xD”

DOG OR CAT PERSON?

Cats. Dogs require too much attention and energy. I don't have a fixed schedule so having a dog would be a mess.

DREAM TRIP?

I love the City, love to hate it. I know, it's only a trip… but I know I'd feel out of place anywhere else. If I had to choose somewhere, I'd say Europe. Greece, Spain, or Italy… but I really don't like the idea of being away from the City for too long. Can I have a trip to a particular part of the City?

*She REALLY loves Night City*

FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER?

Do people really have a favorite fictional character?!? I… don't know, I have to say that I've never consumed a lot of fiction, anyway.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH?

One or none. As I've said, I usually crash on my bed when I'm too tired to go on, and often I sleep directly over the blanket.

*A real mess!*

RANDOM FACT?

I've once tried… This is embarrassing… to crochet a sweater for a cat. I still have the threads and everything somewhere. I thought it would be relaxing. But it was a mistake. Don't have the patience for that kind of stuff and they've teased me enough for it.

This is random enough isn't it?!

Anyone I know (or I silently follow like a stalker, because yeah, that’s what I do.) up here has probably already been tagged (most of them have already done it!) but that's ok anyway! @cybervesna @aggravateddurian @theviridianbunny @dustymagpie @wanderingaldecaldo

[pennysylvester]

i can't be everything to everyone, who do you talk to when you can't talk to no one ➝ solo.

TAGGING ➝ Penny Sylvester, with mentions of Logan Clarington (@paramediclogan), Patrick Flanagan (@patrick-flanagan), Alex Washington (@alex-washington-rackets) & Emmy Corcoran (@emmycorcoran).

LOCATION ➝ Penny and Logan's living room.

TIME FRAME ➝ 10/25, early afternoon (but starts out with mentions of the night before).

WARNINGS ➝ Just a lot of angst, mentions of cheating, I guess a scared dog?

SUMMARY ➝ Penny has been on the verge of a breakdown for years, and she finally allows herself to do it.

Penny had gotten home late last night, traces of her tryst lingering deeper than just her skin. The house was silent, dark, its calmness broken only by the running shower water as Penny stood beneath it, letting it wash away what should never have been there in the first place. She'd towel dried her hair, then slipped quietly into bed beside her husband, eyes growing misty as she watched how peacefully he slept. The salty tear to roll down her temple, wet her ear and soak her pillow wasn't fuelled by guilt or sadness, and maybe that was the problem: she didn't feel guilty at all.

Running into Patrick in the bar had been a blessing. She hadn't sought him out, he'd just...happened. Materalized when she'd needed someone, anyone to take her mind off of the shit storm brewing inside. This life with Logan, she'd resigned herself to it, accepted that this was it, she didn't have to be happy. She could find fulfilment in other areas; her passion for her job, her devotion to her family, her need to be everything to everyone... And maybe that was the problem, too. She was only one person, stretched entirely too thin already, but Penny had never been a quitter, so she wasn't going to start now.

Having her cake and eating it too... it wasn't okay. But somehow, it was. She wasn't happy at home, she knew Logan wasn't, so maybe they could both just continue to do this dance, put up this facade of the loving, happy husband and wife, then get their true happiness on the side, just like Penny had last night, or last year with Alex. But sex wasn't happiness—sure, it quelled her need for affection some, but it wasn't real affection. It was attention, and while Penny craved that too, it wasn't the crux of what she really wanted. Only one person could give her that, and the more Penny did this, the more she danced with Logan and fumbled beneath sheets that weren't her own, the looser her grip became on the only person that actually mattered.

Emmy wasn't the only one to have expected a reunion at some point; Penny had, too. But then she'd met Logan, she'd gotten swept up in the idea of the fairytale life, the most attainable option. She didn't have to work for Logan; Logan couldn't hurt her and she couldn't hurt him, because he didn't love her and she didn't love him, not really. They loved the idea of each other, of that fantasy come to life, and somewhere deep down, Penny always knew it would be temporary. She'd live out that temporary high, then she'd come home and Emmy would be waiting for her.

But Emmy wasn't a fantasy; Emmy was real. She was a person with hopes and fears and feelings, and while Penny knew on some level that she'd screwed up her second chance with her a while ago, it had taken up until their conversation in her office to shatter that final glimmer of hope. Emmy hated her. She hated her. And they were done, Emmy said they were done and whatever they'd once had was over, and maybe Penny didn't know how to accept that, but she was trying. She was trying so hard, searching for that affection she craved in any place she could find it, and without even trying, she was leaving destruction in her path.

Alex.

His baby.

Logan.

His time.

Emmy... her life. Emmy was glass, the most precious, fragile kind, and she cracked and shattered in Penny's hand until she, and the illusion of the two of them together, turned to sparkling dust.

Everything in Penny's path turned to dust, and she'd done all she could to ignore it, to distract her mind with work or parenting her adult siblings, or climbing into the bed of a stranger she'd met in a dimly lit dive bar. It wasn't until now, when she sat in her living room with puffy eyes and the house cloaked in silence, the sleeves of her sweater pulled down over her hands to grip tightly in her fingers, that she really let herself see it. Her lip quivered, her eyes glazed with an overflowing pool of salty tears, her body filled with self-hatred.

And Penny finally broke down.

The new vase, the one she'd bought just yesterday to replace the one lost to the earthquake, took the brunt of her downfall. Penny cried and gripped her hands until her palms were decorated with deep crescent moons from her nails. She didn't just cry, she sobbed. Loud, heartbroken, ugly sobs, her sadness turning to anger, then to frustration, and Penny stood and grabbed the closest thing to her, the vase, and watched as it hurtled towards the wall, smashing into small, shiny shards that scattered on the floor.

It wasn't the sound of shattering that brought her back to her senses, but a terrified cry, and Penny turned to see Zoe backing up into the kitchen.

"No." Penny shook her head, guilt washing over her. Zoe was Logan's dog, Penny barely even liked the thing, but she found herself lowering to her level now, kneeling before her and dying inside as she watched her shake. "I'm sorry," Penny sobbed, trying to motion the dog closer, but she only backed up further. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I didn't mean to scare you."

A knock on the door caught both of their attention, but rather than running to see who it was like she usually would, Zoe only continued to whine. Penny was in no state for company, but the knocking persisted, and Penny, everything to everyone, began to run scenarios through her head. What if it was one of her siblings, what if something had happened and they needed her? It was that thought and that thought alone that pulled her from her knees, and had her frantically wiping at her watery, red, puffy eyes as she headed for the door.

"I'll be right back, okay?" She said to a still cowering Zoe. "I'm so sorry, Zo."

In the grand scheme of things, apologizing to the dog was the least of her worries.