#Sorry this is just getting chucked into the void

[mortuarywriting]

Okay. So.

This post, right? I had this vivid bit come to me based on the deli comment + Pic combo. I do not plan on writing more. Free to a good home someone else take this I would NOT have any idea where to go with it oc or insert live your best life

You didn't usually come by this way, and frankly if there hadn't been closures for some infrastructure work you still wouldn't. The extra 10 minutes this unforseen detour was causing meant your entire schedule was thrown off balance. It was only by happenstance that plans got moved an hour back while you were already on the way. Normally you'd be more upset that shit got shifted while you were already on the way but you figured a solid "fuck it" was warranted and you should get yourself something to eat really quick.

You figured a new route would mean new restaurants, and had you decided this anywhere along your usual route or even before your turn down this detour? You'd be so right. You knew there were tons of little places you made notes to go back and try the ever nebulous sometime.

This would be an awesome sometime if it didn't mean trying to turn around and backtrack and the way the construction area had been? That was not appealing.

This road had a surprising lack of food options, and between the idea of gas station snacks or a little corner deli? You were gonna pick the deli first. Why not, good to try new things after all.

Only as soon as you walk in you see the guy behind the counter. Well, more leaning between the counter and the front, he's obviously tied enough to the place that he's talking to the only other customer in there, but someone else is actually making the sandwich while he chats with the guy waiting.

You were ready with a polite smile as you looked at the menu but something about the guy made you do a second glance and-

You knew of that neck tattoo. The long sleeves and pants he wore covering the rest of his skin suddenly felt a lot less sensible for the weather and a lot more like brush hiding something dangerous. That hammer might as well have been a sign saying 'this is not a place of honor', it was a warning and a potential threat all in one and you were not gonna ignore that.

You'd normally just turn on your heel and slide out, quiet and unnoticed, except he had noticed you.

"Welcome," and if that didn't feel like a bold faced lie to you but you keep a pleasant smile even as the fuckoff huge other customer, also very large, also very white and also very covered up- face mask, beanie, sunglasses in hand and hints of tattoos peeking from his sleeves- turns to look at you as well.

You try so hard to keep your polite smile and distinctly not make eye contact as you look over the menu. Your appetite is so far gone you don't know if you're gonna eat for the rest of the day, you weigh the odds between being able to just make your escape versus buying a drink and mentally trying to figure out if you had enough loose change to get a water bottle because you did not want these people to theoretically have your name. Not with that dogwhistle on his fuckin neck you didn't.

But you've never been so glad for your friends serial texting, your phone chiming four times in rapid succession in your pocket.

You fish it out and, well, damn, if that isn't one hell of a meme. You let your brow furrow, "oh son of a-" you look up and offer an apologetic smile, "so sorry, have a good one," and you beat feet and make a hasty retreat.

You dial that friend in question as you make your way out, "hey, yeah, I know you just texted me but I need to be on the phone really quick? Yeah uh," you do a bit of a look around and behind you, making sure your coast is fairly clear before you lower your voice and continue, "might've. Just accidentally walked into a white supremacist place?"

"HOW DO YOU ACCIDENTALLY-"

"It's not like they hung a swastika on the window," your tone creeps back up with exasperation, "the guy- manager or owner I dunno- he had the fuckin- the hammer on his throat! And he was too covered for me to check for iron crosses and with his only other customer being another giant white guy I wasn't playing the odds! Anyway, whatever, I'm almost there just. Hang out with me on the phone. Where the hell did you find that meme?"

--------

Look I'd cut back to where it goes back to the guys bantering here but like. I'm running out of steam and Price doesn't cooperate with my writing at the best of times.

Just know Simon absolutely makes the joke that pretty birds leaving is what happens when you let Roaches around your food. Roach just flips him the bird.

Gaz was absolutely walking down the street and heard some of that phone call. Absolutely finds it hilarious.

Anyway please if you want this take it free to a good home I do not need this freeloader

[astromechs]

consider: a peacemaker and the boys crossover

[prishdish]

˖˚˳⊹"i really do love you.. im sorry"˖˚˳⊹

-warnings: Angst, depress!on, su!c!dal thoughts, detachment, scars, body dysmorphia, disassociation, not proofread, chubby reader. -chars mentioned: Scaramouche -wc: 0.6k -a/n: i dont even know what to say.. Um this is .. something.. enjoy?

masterlist

as someone who felt every emotion more intense than others, it also meant feeling more sad. it should've been fine but you simply couldn't feel happy.. you have friends and family but still felt so lonely..

“helloooo” scaramouche waved his hand infront of your face to get your attention.

Suddenly looking up, you see him frowning at you. “what’re you thinking so hard about.. do you not wanna watch the movie?”

“sorry.. i just spaced out” you said embarrassed.. “just continue the movie, ill pay attention this time”.. Scara simply muttered a small ‘fine’ and resumed it.

Scaramouche is your best friend, the one you share everything with. But.. he could never understand the depth of your emotions.. The void you feel inside.. The aching loneliness that consumes you at every moment.

“Yes lets go to the beach!! itll be perf....”

“ooh i just bought a new bikini…..”

“wont it be too sunny? ill get tanne….”

you drowned out their conversation and thought of excuses to skip… you had no other choice.. a bikini wouldn't cover your scars, stretch marks or tummy fat.. it would be on display for everyone to see your insecurities and then they'd hate you.

“guys im sorry but i have to study this weekend.. exams are close”

“again? but didnt you say the same last week…”

“oh come on! itll be so fun…”

“ugh she does the same everytime…”

Ofcourse they wouldn't understand.. They had the perfect body..

The words were blurred as you tried to read them.. Nothing made sense to you anymore.. Your exams were near and you have to study but the words together don't make sense anymore..

Sighing, you went to splash some water on your face to wake yourself up. Looking up into the mirror, you saw failure.. Someone who cant study.. Someone who wouldnt be able to make a living..

You sat back down at your desk.. You can study and change your future right? its just a book..

But.. you cant make yourself read the words anymore.. you felt so tired..

Why cant you also be like others?.. Everyone else is so successful and perfect.. They have good grades, perfect body and happy lives..

You sat on the edge of the roof.. This used to be your hang out spot with Scara but eventually you both stopped meeting there.

“where the fuc- YOURE HERE?” Scara dramatically sighed, huffing. “Ive been searching all over for you. Come on, ive made dinner.. you have to eat something”

You chucked softly at his caring nature and nodded silently.. “Scara?” he was about to leave but turned back to look at you “yeah?”

“I love you”

He chuckled in confusion “yeah yeah i get it, i love you too. no need to get all sentimental with me, its just dinner.”

You turned back to the sky once he left. He probably went to your kitchen to fill a plate for you..

You smiled at the thought. He was the best person you could've asked for..

And it hurts. He cared for you so much but you couldn't appreciate it..

Leaving never had to be this painful.. But a tear fell down and you closed your eyes, recounting your memories..

There were so many happy moments you never got to enjoy.. Sad moments you stayed numb.. And the huge gap in your memory.. and nobody knew how you felt because you never let them.

‘Im so tired… Im so tired..” You looked at your feet, dangling off the roof.. ‘i hate this .. i dont wanna do this.. but theres nothing else to be done’

You took a deep breath in.. “i really do love you.. im sorry”...

…..

tags: @rubywonu @stygianoir @unsavoy-melon @kashiiwi @babbledabble25

[lxclerc]

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... charles' lonely call breaks your heart further requested... yes! warning... angst pairing... charles leclerc x reader

note... a little drabble requested back in november 2022. i'm so sorry for it being super super super late but if whoever requested it is still here then i hope you enjoy it! feedbacks are very much appreciated and encourages me to write more! extra note... also i'm taking a semester gap year so i will be trying to post more and get through requests so let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

you’re exhausted, having just got home from a forty eight hour shift. being a surgical resident is absolute hell and you’re not quite sure how you’re managing but somehow you’d manage to drag yourself back home, frowning as you reach for the light switch only to find the wall empty. 

right. you’re in your own apartment, a place you hadn’t really lived at for months. mostly you’d come here when you needed something but more times than not, you go home to his apartment. it had been your home rather than this sad, lonely place void of his laughter. 

you sigh, letting your bag drop to your thrifted couch. you suddenly wished you’d stayed in the hospital on call room instead of here. being back in this place reminds you of all the things you no longer have, of the person you no longer call yours. 

god the self pity is getting tiring and you’re far too tired for another midnight crying session and so after washing the grime off your skin, you’d settled on your sofa with a bag of chips, flipping on the TV to some trashy american series to drown out your loneliness. 

however, as fate would unfortunately have it, you hadn’t even reached the second episode before your phone started ringing, his smiling face displayed on the screen. you’d frozen on your spot. you remember the exact date you’d taken that photo of him and you still had the ringtone you specifically chose for him. 

you’re haunted, your body full of memories and his fingerprints imprinted in your soul. even now, three weeks, two days and twelve hours since he’d called it off, he still haunts. you wanted to let out a bitter laugh as the ringing stopped. who’s counting right?

you refused to be his lonely call. you might be absolutely miserable and pathetic but you respect yourself enough for that. you won’t be his lonely call just because his friends and his girls are gone. you’d been his six am good morning but you will never be his midnight number whenever he starts wondering if he’d made the wrong choice. 

your phone lights up again but you let it ring. if he had more things to say to you then he can say it after the beep. 

he calls more times after that, keeping you awake as you stare at your ringing phone. a few times, you catch yourself reaching for it, reminding yourself that he’d been the one to make this choice. he’d been the one to make excuses about both your schedules being too much. and it was so unfair how he tormented you for it. this entire thing was unfair. you were willing to give everything to charles. you loved him far too much and you’d been under the impression that he felt the same but if he was willing to give you up so easily, did he really love you as much as he claimed he did?

he’d made his bed and now he needed to get used to sleeping on it. 

it was around two am when he finally stopped calling and you’re sure you’ll have a headache come tomorrow morning from staying up too late. you decide to call it a night and end your self inflicted torture, putting your phone on silent as you turned off the TV and chucked your empty bag of chips in the trash. you were just about to turn off the light when the knock came and you knew without checking exactly who it was. 

you sigh, frozen in your tracks as the knocks became more and more insistent. 

“y/n,” his voice is rough, scratchy as though he’d spent the entire night screaming at the top of his lungs and you felt a tear slip down your cheeks. he sounded so broken. maybe as broken as you felt. “s'il te plaît, mon amour.” please, my love.

you stay rooted to your place. this is unfair. this is so fucking unfair. he’d been the one to give up. charles gave you up. how dare he come crawling to you now? 

“Je suis désolé. Je suis désolé. Je pensais que je pourrais apprendre à moins t'aimer. Tu me manques,” he rambles. “i miss you so fucking much i didn’t even think it was possible, baby.” I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I thought I could learn to love you less. I miss you.

a sob rocks your body as you fall to the floor, clutching yourself as though you’re trying to hold yourself together. 

“please, baby,” he begs and you can hear the way he’s crying too. “J'ai besoin de toi.” i need you.

and then you open the door. because you loved him too much. because you could never give up on him. 

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @writing-about-current-obsessions @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerr @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr

[lesbianpepsi]

Hi can you write about taking care of Sam when she sick and just fluff

hello honey, of course i can write a lil sick fic, especially if it's for Sam

I adore you, can't you see you're meant for me?

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!reader

Request: Taking care of Sam whiles she's sick

Words: 1.863k

Warnings: sam having the cold? bad writing

—————————————————————

"I can't come over, I'm sick." Sam grumbled through the phone along with a few coughs.

You giggled at her words. "Boo, you whore." You replied thinking Sam was only trying to quote the iconic line from the iconic film, Mean Girls.

More harsh coughs were heard through the phone which slightly alarmed you since- no offence to your girlfriend- she wasn't the best at acting.

"What? Why are you calling me a whore?" Your eyes widened as you noticed Sam was in fact not quoting Mean Girls. "Wait, you're actually sick?"

"Why else would I say I'm sick?" The nasally sounding Carpenter sister questioned sounding confused.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry, Sam. I thought you were- you know what never mind. I'm coming over now." You said briskly as you put the call on speaker mode, rushing to put your converses on.

"You don't have to come over, it's fine." Sam said to which you shook your head at, as if she could see you. "I'll be over in ten." You told her as you finished tying your shoes, running over to grab your phone, wallet and keys before walking out of the door.

"You live thirty minutes away."

"I'll be there in ten."

—————————————————————

You somehow managed to arrive at Sam's and Tara's apartment in ten minutes and with a bag full of items.

Knocking on the door three times to announce your arrival you opened the door and walked in.

Tara was sat on the couch with the Babadook playing on the Tv, she turned her head to look at you, giving you a smile. You gave Tara a little wave with your free hand as you swiftly closed the door.

"Hey Y/n, Sam's in her room." She told you to which you smiled appreciatively at. "Hey Tara. How've you been?" You asked as you walked over to stand behind the couch, looking down at Tara.

She shrugged her shoulders weakly. "Alright, thanks for asking. I'm feeling much better than I was a few days ago."

"You were sick too?" You asked her. She nodded her head. "Unfortunately. Mindy had a bad cold and she gave it to me, and every time I get sick Sam also gets sick. So now she's rotting away in her bed."

You chucked at the thought of Mindy passing her cold to everyone in the group, thankfully you hadn't gotten it yet.

"Sibling connection." You teased before you glanced towards Sam's door. Tara giggled nodding her head, it was truly an annoying connection.

You began to walk over to Sam's room before you abruptly stopped and shoved your hand into the bag, pulling out a bottle of Cherry Coke and a small box of Nerds as you turned back to look at Tara.

"I almost forgot." You said making Tara turn to look back at you. Her eyes glanced at your hands and her eyes widened with excitement. You tossed over the drink and sweets that Tara horribly failed to catch.

"Thank you!" She yelled out in a sing song voice already opening the Nerds to get a handful. You laughed as you continued your original plan to walk towards Sam's door.

You gave it a gentle knock before walking inside. The room was utterly void of any light other than some of the light peeking through her curtains.

"Sammy, you alive?" You joked lightly as you walked over to the curtained window, pulling them apart only a bit to allow more light inside so you could actually see your girlfriend.

Sam grumbled as she shuffled around in her bed. "Barley." She said in a raspy nasally voice that made you sigh, she sounded really sick.

Kicking off your shoes you moved to sit by Sam on the bed. The sick girl turned away from you hiding her face in the pillows.

"I don't want you also getting sick." She mumbled as she let out a heavy breath. You pushed yourself closer to Sam as you placed the bag on your lap, searching through it for specific items.

"Well I'm here now and I'm not leaving until you're back to your non-sick self." Sam grudgingly rolled over with her face landing softly against your elbow.

You shuffled further down until Sam could lay her head on your shoulder. Turning your head to look at her you noticed she looked really ill.

Darker bags than usual were laying under her eyes, the end of her nose and the skin around her nose red from having to use a tissue so often, she was also boiling. Even through your hoodie you could feel the heat radiating off of Sam.

"Oh baby." You whispered with sympathy, Sam groaned next to you. "Don't pity me."

You rolled your eyes at her stubbornness. From the bag you pulled out a myriad of items: a packet of Ibuprofen, a box including sachets of cinnamon tea (Sam's favourite), a packet of tissues, a bottle of cold water and of course some soup.

"Have you taken any pills today?" You asked her to which Sam shook her head 'no'. You passed over the pack of Ibuprofen along with the bottle of water. "Take two now and then in a few hours if you've still got sore thighs you can have another two."

"How'd you even know my thighs hurt?" Sam asked pulling away from you to sit up on the bed, her back now against the headboard.

You copied her movement as you watched her take out two pills from the packet.

"Every time you're sick your thighs always hurt, I remember you telling me." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam's eyes gazed at you as she popped the pills in her mouth before taking a large sip of the water. She swallowed it after a few seconds and kept the bottle on the bedside table.

She coughed once as she nodded her head, giving you a smile. "Thank you." You smiled sweetly at her as you grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with a gentle squeeze.

"How about I go make you some soup and some cinnamon tea then we can watch anything you want." You suggested as you picked up the tomato soup can with your free hand, a bit basic but it was Sam's favourite.

She nodded her head slowly at your words, smiling weakly. "Yes please." She croaked out in a nasally voice.

You gave a curt nod before getting out of the bed, Sam let out a low groan as you dropped your interlocked hands.

"I'll be quick, you pick a show or movie while I make you your soup okay?" You said as you manoeuvred your hoodie off your body, dropping it in the floor.

"Fine." Sam exaggerated. You smiled at her once more before grabbing the box full of sachets and tin once again before leaving the room.

It didn't take long until you were back by Sam's side with a bowl of tomato soup, a small plate of toast and one cinnamon tea for Sam.

(While you were gone Sam had put on your hoodie which made your heart soar at the sight)

"You're the best." Sam thanked as she took the bowl from your hands, taking a small spoonful to which me moaned in satisfaction at the taste.

You beamed with pride as you moved closer to Sam's side until your shoulders and thighs were touching.

"Did you choose what you want to watch?" You asked her as you stole a toast off the plate on her lap. "Don't you dare get crumbs in my bed." Sam threatened as she turned to give you a serious look.

You sighed leaving the bed to stand up as you ate your toast. "What movie or show?" You repeated with a mouthful of toast.

"What's that tv show you keep watching when I'm at yours?" Sam questioned back as she took another spoonful of the soup.

"Brooklyn Nine Nine?"

"No I don't think so."

"Schitts Creek?" You guessed again.

Sam shook her head 'no.' "Derry Girls?" You asked in a more hopeful tone as you took one final bite of your toast.

"No, it's not a sitcom."

Dusting off the crumbs on your shirt you went to sit next to Sam again. "The End Of The Fucking World? Hannibal?" You tried again.

"Is the main character a Russian blonde woman?"

Your eyes widened as you finally figured out what show Sam was talking about. "Killing Eve?"

"Killing Eve, that's the name. Yeah Killing Eve." Sam confirmed as she took her own slice of toast dipping it into the soup. You grinned with satisfaction as you grabbed the TV remote, logging into Netflix to find Killing Eve.

"You know if you just said that in the beginning I would've guessed it a lot faster." Sam rolled her eyes as she took a bite of the toast.

As the opening scene to the first episode played Sam had enough of her food for now and placed them on top of the bed side table. Replacing the bowl and plate with her cup of tea.

You felt Sam move closer to you as she leaned her head on your shoulder, one hand holding the hot cup of tea and the other laying on your leg.

Wrapping an around her waist Sam relaxed even further into the touch. Sam was usually the one wrapping an arm around you, or usually being the big spoon, but when she's sick she settles for allowing you to be the bigger spoon.

"You're the best girlfriend ever." Sam said as she took another slow sip of her cinnamon tea, the smell wavered into your nose.

You chuckled at the compliment. "I know right." Sam rolled her eyes playfully as she took another careful sip of her tea.

"I take back my statement." She threatens with seriousness, you gasped dramatically as you placed a hand on your chest. "Oh how you wound me, my love." You say playing into the dramatics.

Sam laughed in a dry tone which still managed to make your heart skip a beat at the sound.

"Fine I'll take it back, just because I love you."

"I knew our love would conquer all."

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence till the end of the first episode of Killing Eve.

Sam had finished her tea and was fully cuddling into you at that point, making you pass her the bottle of water every now and again.

As you pressed play for the next episode Sam spoke up. "Thank you for coming over and taking care of me."

You smiled warmly as you kissed Sam's forehead, the skin cooled down a bit compared to how hot it was earlier.

"It's my duty as your girlfriend, Sam. You don't need to thank me." You reassured her as she let out a hum.

"Still, thank you." She said as you felt her press a featherlight kiss to your neck. You beamed with love at the contact, your smile somehow widening.

"I love you so much, Sammy."

Sam rolled her eyes at the nickname as a smile of her own played on her lips. "I love you so much more, Y/n."

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day two

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : fluff, flirting and some compromising positions

length : 3.6k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3

a/n : the story is picking up the pace, I hope you enjoy this chapter!! as always, asks, reblogs and comments motivate me to write faster 🥰🥰

•••

day two

I didn’t know how many tours Oli had been on, but I had figured it would have been enough to expect him to be on time for bus call. I was wrong. Which is why I was currently kneeling on the floor of his hotel room trying desperately to stuff his belongings into his suitcase as he was in the bathroom getting dressed in a hurry. It wasn’t even a terribly long drive from Cardiff to Bournemouth but the last thing I wanted was to make room for any rumours that I was basically just a nepo kid being taken on tour by him instead of actually doing a job.

“Is there any rules to how you pack at all?” I shouted through the closed bathroom door, because, honestly, I couldn’t make out any. Everything was randomly put together, mixed in ways that didn’t make sense at all. How did he find anything in there? I was glad his show outfits were being transported separately because I was sure they would get lost in this void otherwise.

“Don’t question it so much, just chuck it all in.”

I ignored the door opening behind me, shuffling his shampoo into a different spot to make room for the pile of clothes that was still refusing to fit into the suitcase at all. I didn’t mind going through his belongings - he kept his dirty clothes in a separate bag, luckily - but I didn’t expect to find what I did, either. The condoms weren’t that much of a surprise. He was single, after all, and I figured it was better he was prepared for any potential plans to come along than to be stuck without them. The whip was more unexpected.

“Please tell me this is for a photo shoot,” I said as I held the black leather in the air, a sturdy handle with soft tassels at the end. Oli appeared in a heartbeat, standing next to me, not half as embarrassed as I was.

I was still staring at the offending item, when I felt his hand on my chin, slowly turning my head toward him. My eyes wandered from the grey sweatpants, ignoring that I was perfectly level with his crotch, moving upwards to his bare chest. Why had he still not put on a shirt? We needed to leave, like, five minutes ago, and he was half undressed. Half undressed and half-

I wasn’t sure if I imagined the twitch in his sweatpants. I wouldn’t blame him if it was real. I was in a more than compromising position, on my knees in front of him, perfectly obediently allowing him to move my head however he desired, looking up at him with what I could only hope wasn’t pure lust.

“Do you want them be for a photo shoot?”

I choked so hard that the brutal cough immediately destroyed any idea of whatever dirty ideas were hanging in the air. Oli crouched down next to me, his demeanour completely changed as he patted my back, waiting for me to get my breath back.

“Sorry about that,” he said but he did sound highly amused. “It is for a photo shoot.”

Letting go of me, he picked up a shirt from the open suitcase to put it on, before grabbing the whip from my hands and stuffing it in, along with the clothing still left out on the floor. He did it much more graciously than I had been attempting to, finally shutting the case and getting up. He lent me a hand to pull me up along with him.

“I might try it on Noah beforehand though,” he commented. “He seems like he could be awfully submissive when he allows himself to.”

And just like that, I was lost in another coughing fit.

•••

“So, how come Oli got a rundown on your thoughts on the show last night and I didn’t?”

I hadn’t seen Noah coming, completely distracted by the fact that, somehow, chaos had erupted about the planning of which tour bus belonged to which bands and crew, so his voice behind me almost made me jump. He was leaning against the bus I was currently standing next to - he seemed to be leaning an awful lot, really - and I wasn’t going to lie, he looked pretty awful. It seemed that the jet lag still hadn’t lessened. He looked as tired as ever.

“Well, to start with, I actually have his number,” I replied. Noah hesitated for a second, but when he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he only took a moment to pull up his contacts and thrust the device in my hand.

“Easily salvageable.”

Typing in my number, I noticed he hadn’t set a contact name yet. So I let my impulsive thoughts win and noted my name as Oli’s slut, quickly shutting down the phone and handing it back to him. I wondered how long it would take him to notice. Or rather, to find my contact. If he started at A for Aubrey, it might take a minute.

“At least I still got a compliment out of it,” he remarked. I was confused for a moment, before remembering I had most definitely sent Oli a note about Noah looking pretty good in his mask. Well. It wasn’t like I’d been lying.

“Stop hitting on my girl,” Oli’s voice boomed out of nowhere. Noah visibly flinched, as if he had actually gotten caught doing something he shouldn’t, then Oli approached and deftly smacked Noah’s butt. It caused another flinch and - a slight blush on his face? “Nah, I’m just kidding, mate, make your move.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t indulge him,” I advised as Oli continued walking past us, landing another slap but this time on my own arse. I was almost proud that it didn’t take me by surprise. I knew Oli well enough to have seen it coming. As soon as he was out of earshot I turned back to Noah, who still seemed adorably flustered. It was a gorgeous look on him, I decided, all shy in that massive build, tall and broad. “He likes to rile people up. If you show him that it works, it’ll only get worse.”

“I’m not sure if I can stop it,” he mumbled, a hand going to the back of his neck, awkwardly scratching at the skin there. My own hand reached out, briefly touching his biceps. It was meant as a reassuring gesture, but even through the hoodie he was wearing, I could easily feel his muscles underneath. It took all my self control not to reach out and grab onto it again.

“In that case, you have another two weeks of fun with that one ahead of you, big boy.”

“You’re not helping either,” he admitted, the blush deepening a little. Or was I imagining it in the morning light?

“Want me to stop?” I asked, in a teasing manner, but I was deadly serious if push came to shove. The last thing I wanted to do was make Noah uncomfortable with my… advances, or whatever my behaviour could be classified as. Even if staying away would be painful.

But he simply looked at me, brown eyes so kind and enticing that an earthquake couldn’t have torn me away from them. Then his hand was on my shoulder, a soft grip, his thumb ever so slightly running over my neck and my breath caught in my throat, right where he touched it. I swallowed, hard, and I knew he noticed. The smile on his face was telling enough.

“Don’t you dare.”

•••

I shouldn’t have been surprised at the level of comfort the tour busses would provide after seeing the hotel rooms management had put us all in, but I was still in silent awe as I walked down the aisle, up the stairs, and quickly chose the perfect bunk for myself. It seemed like an ideal hideaway for some privacy, even if we wouldn’t necessarily be sleeping here, minus the odd nap on the drive.

Bending down, I crawled halfway into the space to dump my bags with the most important stuff in a corner along with the pillow I took everywhere. I felt the presence behind me immediately, even though I hadn’t heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. He could be as quiet as he wanted, I’d still sense him, I realised.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned, pulling my upper body back out of the bunk and turning to stand in front of Oli, who looked positively flabbergasted.

“How did you know I was gonna do anything?”

I shot him a look. “Oli, I’ve been around you for over ten years, I can see an assault coming by now.”

“Well, but you don’t know what kind of assault I had plan, do ya now?”

He had that glint in his eyes that told me he was bad, bad news, and yet I didn’t do anything but raise my eyebrows at him, a silent invitation to show me if only he dared. I wasn’t sure why I thought there would even be the smallest possibility he wouldn’t take me up on it.

Before my brain could catch up with what was happening, he had grabbed my hips, turned me around to face the bunks again, and pushed me against the hard wood which was awkwardly digging into my chest and legs, but that was the least of my worries. Protest words were already on my lips, but then his hands turned soft, carefully pushing the back of my shirt up, revealing skin and the tattoo I had there.

“That’s new,” he mumbled, fingertips running up and down my spine, so high he almost touched the clasp on my bra. Goosebumps followed his every move as I felt him study the ornamental design covering most of my back. “When did that happen?”

My mind was a mess. Pressed against the bunks and his hands on me, causing a fire that rapidly spread through my whole being, begging my body to keep still, not to arch into him, not to show him how much more I wanted, begging my mouth to keep the moans inside, I hardly found the words.

“My-” I coughed, trying to get my brain to work. “My ex hated tattoos. So- um, so I got this as soon- as soon as we broke up.”

It was pathetic really, how much I was struggling to form sentences and there was no way he couldn’t tell. Still, he took another moment to run his hands over me, then they were gone and I could almost feel the tension escaping my body when I felt his lips press against my back, right at the centre of the design, and I didn’t even try to hide the gasp. He didn’t let me enjoy the feeling for long, peeling down the fabric of my shirt again to cover me before letting go of me completely. I felt cold and whiny, in desperate need of taking a few breaths before turning around again.

We didn’t exchange any more words. My breathing was still going embarrassingly fast, unable to keep my cool under his stare once again. I was loosing control fast. Whatever Lia had said, and however much I wanted to take her advice to heart, there was a massive barrier in my brain that didn’t allow me to move past it. The tour had barely started. What if I fucked this up? Oli was a flirt, alright, and he constantly had his hands on people, but there was a terrifying anxiety festering inside of me that he didn’t mean anything by it, that I would cross an invisible line and that I would never be able to take it back.

I couldn’t tell how long we stood there for, looking at each other, contemplating our futures, but whatever could or could not have happened was interrupted by Matt stomping up the stairs and roughly pushing between us to get to the front of the top deck.

“No flirting at work! At least not where I can see it!”

He was quickly followed by Oli calling him a fucking wanker and threatening to beat him, at whatever game they were planning to load up on the Playstation or in real life, I didn’t know. I simply crawled back into my bunk, properly this time, and pulled the curtain shut.

•••

It took Noah about an hour to notice.

Noah

I’m starting to think you’re actually enjoying being someone’s slut

My heart started to race immediately, eyes glued to the message displayed on my phone screen. My fingers were itching to type something inappropriate back, an itch I probably wouldn’t be able to ignore.

It was strange how differently flirting with Noah was. An hour ago, I’d fallen into a pit of overthinking over Oli’s and my actions, but with Noah I was simply calculating how far I could take it. Maybe it was the fact that there wasn’t a decade-long friendship at stake. Maybe it was the knowledge he was from another fucking continent and I’d be able to avoid him much better if everything went to shit. The absolution he gave me earlier about continuing to flirt with him definitely helped. That, and the fact that he wasn’t my immediate boss and I did, kind of, need the money from this run.

Aubrey

You’d like that wouldn’t you?

I pictured him lying in his own bunk, the same way I was, perfectly able to preoccupy himself with whatever in the world he wanted, but instead thinking of me. Thinking of me being a slut, thinking of me potentially being with Oli right now, doing whatever Oli wanted me to. Thinking of what I would be doing for him too? The thought alone had me pressing my thighs together. It really had been too long since I’d gotten any sort of action and those two around me had me in a constant state of yearning and burning. If I hadn’t been in a tour bus with several people around me and in constant danger of one of them pulling the curtain to my bunk back to talk to me, I’d have let my hands wander a bit.

No answer from Noah. The self-doubt briefly crept up again in me, but remembering our conversation outside earlier, I swiftly decided to double down on my approach instead.

Aubrey

Or is it that you want to be one

This time, there was less hesitation in his reply.

Noah

Can’t a man have a little bit of both

My thighs clenched, a searing hot fire emerging between them as several images flooded my brain. Noah on his knees, looking up at me with wide eyes. Noah begging, pleading. Noah at my mercy. At Oli’s. Tied up and willing to let us treat him the way he deserved.

Aubrey

You can have anything you want, big boy

I’m sure Oli would agree too

What followed was the blurriest picture known to mankind. I desperately tried to make something out, anything at all, zooming in and out and changing the brightness on my phone, but it remained hurried lines and dark masses.

Noah

Sorry about that

Meant to send you a middle finger as a reply

But Jolly threw the curtain to my bunk back and scared the shit out of me

Aubrey

Can I still get the picture

You know, just to think about where else I’d like that finger

Noah obliged.

•••

It was 7.40 and Noah was missing. Bad Omens had exactly ten minutes to go on stage. And no one could find the lead singer.

The crew's group chat was exploding with messages, everyone was checking off locations they had been and not seen any trace of him. The rest of Bad Omens reassured us that they had tried both the tour bus and the hotel. His phone must have been blowing up with messages, but no reply. I had split up with several people, each of us taking a different direction and checking every room, corner, and nook for him. Not only was the whole situation highly problematic - the venue had a strict curfew and no one could afford a band going on late - but worry was starting to appear on everyone's minds. What if something had actually happened to him? If he was in trouble or injured? Apparently, he wasn't the type to go missing without a trace.

Rushing down a corridor in the arena that should technically be deserted because it was unused this evening, I opened door after door, looking through rooms and closets, trying desperately not to let the hectic feeling that lay in the air take over. I cracked open one more door, spying inside the small room that seemed to house nothing more than a shabby sofa and a couple of blankets or jackets stacked on one end - when I realised the pile of fabric was moving. Rhythmically. Like someone's breathing.

Two large steps brought me to the sofa. I wasn't gentle when I pulled the blankets away, but it didn't seem to faze Noah, who was curled up in a ball much smaller the should have been possible with his broad frame and continued to peacefully sleep. I shook him roughly. There was no time.

“Noah!”

Finally his eyes snapped open. He sat up immediately, rubbing his face with his hands. Apparently he had no problem realising he was in trouble.

“Fuck, what's the time?”

“7.45.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted as he stood up abruptly. He seemed to regret the sudden movement as he swayed a little with dizziness. “Fuck, I need to be on stage. Do you have anything sugary by any chance? I need to raise my blood sugar immediately or I'll probably faint and make a complete fool of myself out there.”

I hopelessly patted my pockets as if I didn't know for sure there was nothing in there. My eyes darted around the room to figure out some way to get him to wake up properly, a snack, a cold drink, anything at all, but it was pitifully bare. Looking back at Noah I knew he needed the pick-me-up desperately. So I did the only thing I could think of.

Looping my arms around his neck, I pulled Noah down to my height and before I could second-guess my actions, I put my lips on his. The sleepiness was wiped from his system entirely. In an instant, his hands were on me, on my back, in my hair, pulling me so close to his body that it knocked the breath out of me. I gasped, surprised at the intensity, Noah took the chance to slip his tongue into my open mouth.

I was a mess. I was breathless and burning and about ten seconds away from going completely limp in his arms and he kept kissing me. I wanted to keep tasting him forever, keep exploring him, feel his hands all over me. Noah pulled at my hair, angling my mouth further toward him and I moaned so pathetically I would have been embarrassed if it hadn't caused him to press into me until I could feel the beginning of a hard-on. My fingers clawed at the back of his skull, instincts fully taking over, as one of his hands deftly gripped my arse and all I wanted was to feel him closer, lead his touch underneath my clothes, let him give me whatever he was willing to let me have.

The phone ringing in my pocket brought an abrupt end to our pending escalation. With a groan, Noah separated himself from me, once again rubbing his face, but this time in frustration and not out of tiredness. I figured that was better, at least. Quickly answering my phone, I let the person at the other end know I'd found him and that we were on our way to stage.

“Two minutes,” I informed him, nodding toward the door. He quickly walked ahead, adjusting his clothes as he went.

“If anyone at all comments on the state of my pants, I'll redirect them to you,” he complained.

I didn't mind all that much.

•••

“What did you do to him?” Oil asked as we stood backstage, watching Bad Omens take the stage with only a minor delay.

“Nothing?” My voice sounded a little top defensive. “Found him napping backstage.”

“Is that why you're both completely red in the face, you liar?”

I watched Noah for a moment longer, suddenly quite glad he always performed Artificial Suicide in his mask, giving him some more time to calm down before he actually had to show his face.

“We did run here, you know.”

“Did he have his dick in you while you ran?”

I didn't hesitate in smacking the back of Oli’s head. I seldomly hesitated when it came to touching him in general, but giving him a well-deserved smack was satisfying it itself. It made me wonder how he'd react to a spanking. He rarely complained about me hitting him. I figured he'd look good on all fours, head handing low, ass red. I felt like Noah would appreciate it just as much.

“You're a fucking knobhead, Oli,” I groaned, turning away from him. “You go watch Bad Omens, I'll be the dressing room figuring out your schedule for the next days. You know, doing my job. Not fucking anyone.”

Even while walking away, I still heard Oli’s last sentence loud and clear.

“Think I can still change your contract to make fucking someone part of your job?”

I didn't dignify it with an answer. I was too afraid of turning around and letting him see the re-emerging blush on my cheeks.

[serenefify]

Synopsis: Years had passed since you successfully nullified all contracts and left Hell behind. Now, living a decent of a normal life once more, you found yourself returning to your cozy abode after another long day of work.

{{What in 'hell' is bad?}} Pair: Kings/You

{{Potential}} Trigger Warning: Religious/Biblical reference, Vague mention of obsession/possessiveness, OOC

🎗️Author's note: Sorry for the lack of post lately.

Entering your room, you carelessly tossed your belongings to the side before slumping down onto your bed. With a heavy sigh, you felt an exhaustion wash over you as your eyelids growing heavy with fatigue. Just as you were about to succumb to sleep, a strange scent tickled your nostrils, jolting you awake.

Your gaze landed on a card—no, a letter, sitting on your table but, who could it be from?

Would you dare to read it?

Satan:

A crimson card, adorned with a delicate white ribbon wrapped around it, secured by small horn-shaped stickers attached to the front. It wasn't overly extravagant, yet it certainly wasn't ordinary either; it sit somewhere in between. Nestled beside the card was a photo.

Hey [[Name]],

So, I figured I'd drop you a letter. Not sure what I'm gonna ramble about, but hey, why not, right?

Anyway, let's cut the crap. Since your bailed on Hell, things have been kinda messy around here. Not like "oh no, angels are attacking us again" messy, but more like... weird, you know?

I swung by Avisos the other day, and on the surface, everything seemed chill. People still living it up, having a blast. But there's this underlying gloominess, you know? Like something's off. Haven't heard anything from their kings, either. Same deal with Tartaros. Usually, those devils are all about flaunting their stuff, strutting around Gehenna like they own the place. But lately, they've been keeping to themselves, especially Mammon. That bastard practically isolated himself these days.

And speaking of isolation, that wet blanket is even more distant than usual. Him and his people are getting pretty hostile towards outsiders. Rumor has it they've even closed off their gate to visitors. Paradise Lost is living up to its name, with Lucifer being more of a hardass than ever. Heard him muttering under his breath a lot, the past meeting with him..

Anyway, not much else to report. I don't exactly have a habit of letter-writing, y'know?

So, how's life treating you up there on Earth? I know your time in Hell wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but I hope you're finding something to kill your time. If not with us, then at least enjoy the grub and swag they're hooking you up with.

Alright, that's all I got. Hope you haven't chucked this letter in the trash yet.

Catch you later,

Satan

Mammon:

A golden card, lavishly adorned with shimmering ornaments adorning its edges. Crafted from crisp, molten gold-hued paper. A delicate ribbon, flush with golden dust, cascades from its side, leaving a trail of particles with each brush against your skin. Nestled beside the card lies an open box of jewels.

My Esteemed Master,

Since your departure from Hell, I have found myself rather... what is the word I am searching for? Ah, yes, lonely. These past days, or perhaps decades. It almost felt like mere moments since you left for the human world.

I pen this letter because I find myself truly missing your presence, Master. Though you made your intentions clear from the start, and I fully understood them, your absence has left a void within me. Is the wealth not sufficient? Does the structure of my domain not meet your expectations? Or perhaps I have failed to fully satisfy you? At times, a thought plagued at the back of my mind—to carve your name into my flesh, to signify that I'm truly yours.

But- Forgive me for indulging in such thoughts, Master. I fear I may have become too forward. I simply cannot help but express the depth of my longing for you.

The time you spent here in Tartaros, though brief, was among the most enjoyable moments of my existence. I must confess, I have never felt such attachment to another being. Not even Solomon grow such sentiments from me. There is something about you that captivates me unlike any other. I vividly recall your first arrival in Tartaros; it was then that I knew you were a being worthy of becoming the master of the Monarch of Tartaros.

My apologies for my ramblings, Master. I found myself yearning to write more, but I restrained myself, knowing your preference for brevity. Nevertheless, I implore you to consider my words and understand that you are sorely missed here in Tartaros.

Yours faithfully,

Mammon

[davertmanfriend]

*ahem*

Hello and welcome too:

DR KEL, THE SECRET ARIRAL 2

ELECTRICBOOGALOO

This post shall make clear of some things and make theories such as:

Why dr kel is part ariral

Who made him this way

Even if Dr kel knows they are an ariral

Let's begin

Art from: https://x.com/Celdis_La_Trash/status/1717160454479340020?s=20

From deduction, we can tell Dr. Kel isn't a normal human, quite special indeed, he can eat a lot of bad foods and not get hurt from this, decomposing deers, raw eggs, bugs, and a lot more.

Dr. kel is stronger than many humans (can chuck a 400-pound atv with ease, survive falls and tumbles that would break human bones), its obvious Dr. kel isn't human to a degree. First, who and why?

The most viable options are arirals. Could be some test of sorts, to see if ariral could mate with humans and what the offspring would look like (it's a viable option, I'm sorry), or perhaps Dr. kel is the victim of alien abduction and genetic modification. All we know is that arirals had something to do with it, and arirals have become more familiar to earth than we think. As we can tell by the poster in the base, the previous inhabitants have seen warp arrows. And want to believe.

But why is Dr kel part ariral?... we have a few reasons.

1: As I said, perhaps an ariral mated with a human, for two reasons: because they were in love, and they are testing if it was possible to have offspring with a human. (It's viable, I'm sorry)

2: as we know, their medical system and science are advanced! Far beyond us. But, let's be honest, would they be greedy like us? They do have corruption in their government, so the medical care is probably corrupted, too. And expensive. And arirals are poisonous to humans! Requiring a vacation to help us adapt to them. But, if a human was part ariral, they'd be immune to an extent. Right? So, it could be Dr. kel is a bridge for money, less cash for creating the vaccine, and paying to get it. Plus, it would help create a connection between human and ariral. Dr. kel could be a future ambassador. And if the mating thing is right, these arirals at the array, could be people sent to study them, or one scientist and a parent.

Or, if the genetics manipulation theory is correct, the arirals who are at the array are both scientist and are testing his durability, strength, and agility (explaining the 'pranks' they play), which makes sense, because they seemingly are both talls, and when they push Dr kel, they survive and with little to no bruises (tall arirals are 8× stronger then humans), they also leave ariral food for Dr kel, such as the purple fruit, which shows the genetic manipulation does have limits.

From both theories, they both can either be right, or im batshit insane! Either way I'm for it!

Now, does Dr kel know they are an ariral?..

This is mainly for the ariral parent theory, but if ya squint those eyes, it could fit the genetics manipulation theory.

Well, Dr. kel is a human who willingly went to the array, which is seemingly total isolation from humanity, and abolace that has claimed many human lives! And with Dr ena as their friend, ena has told Dr. kel probably, and wants Dr. kel to back out of it! But Dr. Kel wants to go here for some reason! We all know Dr. bao doesn't care if Dr. kel dies. It's just a little more paperwork for a weak for him! So, Dr. kel is purposely self isolating away from humans and friends. It's possible his parent told him to keep his strange tendencies to himself (ariral parent theory) because the big bad government would take them away if Dr. kel didn't keep it a secret! And so, Dr. kel is probably a little paranoid still of humans, childhood trauma? And we do see that Dr. kel is traumatized a little or paranoid, at least.

It's not a truly perfect theory, but if any writers out their take my ideas, go ahead and make something magical! I might try to as well-

Anyway! That's all I had to say, pinched unto a rant of sorts, all for voices of the void.

If you friends out their might see any other things that could fit into my theory, be not afraid to comment! I like your ideas too.

That's all, bbbbyyyeee! <3

[brainlessbaguette]

Okay I'm doing a Fionna and Cake ep 2 ramble, because there is so much Finn slander rn and after binging all of Adventure Time I'm losing my marbles over this.

So heavy spoilers below

This is probs gonna be a mess and idc if nobody reads this, I just want to chuck my feelings into the void of the internet.

First and foremost I genuinely DO NOT believe Finn is using Jake's kids to replace Jake. Finn has always been very extroverted and has been shown to have separation and abandonment issues (remember how fast he freaked when fern ditched him or how weird finn sword started acting after grass sword shattered it, and just Martin). It makes sense for his character that'd he'd continue adventuring with other friends and family after Jake. We also have to remember PB and Marcie are out being together, so while I'm sure they still hang out its not as much as it used to be. I genuinely see him turning to his remaining family to see if they want to tag along. Like I could 100% be wrong, but I feel if he was using Jake's kids he would've pushed more to get TV to follow them, but instead he just asked once and then just accepted/respected TV's decision to dip.

Okay now Simon and Finn are both grieving, and neither of them are dealing with it well. Finn has clearly emotionally regressed a bit and is struggling with the loss of Jake. There were numerous times where Jake showed to be really cool with death and Finn not at all be cool with Jake dying. I wouldn't be surpirised if they never really made any progress with that problem, again pretty sure Finn has abandonment issues, so its very easy to see Jake's passing setting him back years in emotional growth. But people have been saying things like "Finn's being ignorant to Simons feelings" "He's in complete denial" "He needs to learn to be a better friend" "He's lost all of the character growth he had in the show" and I cannot deal with this. These comments are the reason I'm making this because shenanigans.

A quick play by play of the very important interaction that people seem to gloss over.

Finn meets up with Simon starting to lose his shit in the bar over Fionna and Cake. He immediately tries to calm him down and Simon freaks out a little more. Finn acknowledges this isn't about the stories and gently asks him whats wrong. Simon proceeds to tell him while clearly having a breakdown, Finn tries to calm him down and even tells him he's sorry. Presumably a "I'm sorry your feeling this way." Simon then admits some really heavy stuff and at this point Finn realizes hes way out of his comfort zone and asks if he's talked to Marcie, i.e. the person that would be able to provide more/better support. Simon brushes that off, Finn basically hits him with a "there's so much more to live for" and Simon says some even darker things, Finn looks around for help, and at this point decides to play the distraction card.

Thats still our boy! Hes damaged but not completely emotionally unaware. He also knew his limits, he looked for help when things got dark and then began to try some stuff that helped him. Like honestly if a friend was saying some of the things Simon was to me and I had no backup I'd also play the distraction card. Were they good distractions? No, not for Simon. But he was genuinely trying. He's not happy but he's staying cheery to try and get Simon in a better place. He also isn't intentionally forcing Simon to go with him, and takes him home as soon as he expresses that he's done.

Its a mess, they're a mess and are absolutley not the ones to help each other. The blindfolds in the forest or "the blind leading the blind" is the perfect expression for what this trainwreck is. They both need outside help and I think thats what we're going to see in this show. This was the first two episodes that set the stage. I imagine there will be a "Finn Mertens" episode, so like lets chill out and cut our boy some slack, at least until we see the whole story, he genuinely tried. Honestly, having just rewatched the whole show, I have a fair bit of faith in the writing team, I highly doubt they'd butcher Finn's character like that.

Anyway I'm loving this show so far, just bugged by some of the hot takes to come out of it. This is all my opinions, so I guess my hot takes? But I just wanted to stand up for the boy.

Also also, people better not be blaming Marcie for being neglectful. Shes barely been seen yet, and currently has no idea whats happening. Give it a bit.

I'm also under the impression Finn's got a separate arm for adventuring, soley because getting another major injury off camera is just kinda out of charcter for the show. But Idk maybe they're just trying something new.

[aseaofyoongi]

we belong together | chp. 2

min yoongi x reader (f)

genre: min twins au; angst; smut; arranged dating themes; fake dating; enemies to lovers; slow burn

rating: mature audiences only (18+)

summary: before college you and your bestfriend yoongi promised your parents if you were to come back home single you would begin dating to marry as a way to get them to back off your love lives. upon coming back however, although you’re both single, yoongi is in love with someone else and unwilling to let them go. unfortunately, you are left to carry out the hapless promise with yoongi’s twin brother and your sworn enemy min yoojin.

warnings: lots of bickering (like an excessive amount); angst; foul language; brief mentions of soobin (txt) again; jimin feature; annoying/irritating parents; flashback scenes; emotional constipation; edited but when i was half asleep so yea lol; no smut here sorry!

word count: 7,8 thousand words

posted: thursday january 19, 2023

previous: part 1 | next: to be announced

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-

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There were tints of ash gray prancing around in your head.

Life was dull.

Everything was stripped bare of its hues.

There was nothing but black dotted lines and blank spaces waiting to be colored in. Your velvet fingertips sweeped past the wooden handles of your paint brushes but no matter how hard you tried, there was no strength in you to lift up the paperweight tools. No matter how much you put your mind to it, it was ponderous.

You chucked the lack of mobility in your upper extremities to the carpal tunnel residuals lingering from years prior but why was your universe dwelt behind the bland combination of pale white and dark black all of the sudden?

Surely, it was connected to your rather wild endeavors the night prior. Perhaps, the volume of the booming bass had fucked with your head or maybe your thoughts lingered back to that random man you kissed on the dance floor out of spite for the upside down twin.

Though, spite was a putrid word you had to admit you really enjoyed the way, Yoojin’s eyes glared at you as your lips tangoed against the disposable stranger pressed up on you. His intense glare read you intently—he was absorbed by your being much like a hypnotic spiral. The feeling set a fire ablaze on your skin but your eyes, they kept drifting towards him at the bar and even though you wanted to keep your distance. . No, you needed to keep your distance. You simply didn’t know how to rip your eyes away from him.

Yoojin had this thing about him, sort of flamboyant. . hard to miss, impossible to avoid aura. He filled your void and colored every inch of your life with cool tones. It spread a funny feeling to the pit of your stomach, sent tingles down to your toes, it sent a shiver down your spine yet you were repulsed by him so much.

You brushed away at the canvas vigorously, your mind was blank and you weren’t actually painting anything in particular—just insignificant lines and then some more lines.

Your mind was clouded with shape-less thoughts, just a jumble of mush. Nothing you had the capacity to decipher or untangle at that moment in time. Worse of it all was that the forefront of your mind was occupied by the one face belonging to two different people: one was the personification of your guardian angel sent to you from heaven, the one who wrapped you up in his loving embrace. The other was the treacherous Aeneous, setting earthquakes in his path as he abandoned you.

And still, your heart drew him as the missing piece to your unfinished puzzle but your mind, it knew to hate him. You could trust your mind. It was viable and it knew Min Yoojin was like a fucking fever you couldn’t break.

‘Do you miss. . .’

His lewd words vibrated down the walls of your inner ear. He didn’t get to finish what he intended but you knew exactly what he was hinting at. And you tried. . you tried to brush off the incorrigible thoughts surfacing but no matter how many times you tried to bury them in the back of your mind, they always resurfaced.

The pressing question looped and you found yourself in a mental debate.

Did you miss it?

Did you miss him?

You were over him—you were used to the achromatic path of your everyday life but of course, Yoojin just had to alter the palpitations of your heart with his unwelcomed presence.

Stepping away from the canvas the brush strokes marked the face of the twisted twin, the man you so harshly detested. Your mind still registered its rightful duty. It reminded you that despite what your heart communicated and despite what your treacherous hands created, the two of you were not meant to be.

He was not your Yoojin.

And you were no longer his.

“You do not belong to me,” you shouted at the painting sitting on the eisel, “just fucking leave me alone. You do not belong to me.”

You kicked the eisel down and watched as Yoojin laid on the floor. There was intense rage fueling your thoughts. You wanted to hurt him, you craved to have him hurting as much as you did.

“I fucking hate you,” you uttered through gritted teeth.

“Yoongi’s not here you know,” Yoojin annoyingly shoved a handful of cereal into his mouth. You sat on one of the stools in the kitchen of the Min household. Your best friend Yoongi was supposed to make it home after basketball practice so that you could help him out with an essay but it’s been about thirty minutes since the coach was supposed to let them go and he has yet to make it home.

“I know that, Yoojin,” you squinted your eyes and shook your head.

“So why are you still sitting in our kitchen like a lost puppy?” he asked, still munching on his cereal so fucking irritatingly.

“Yoongi needs help with some school work,” you shrugged, “and I personally do not have it in me to go home right now.”

“The princess has grown in wrangle with her guardians. Such an original story line in our current social standing,” you knew he was joking, yet you couldn’t help how much it stung coming from someone else’s lips.

Your life would always be a constant battle with what you wanted versus what your parents had chosen for your future and there was nothing you could do. Nothing.

“Your life isn’t much more original to mine.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he snickered.

“Is your major not marked off as business administrations like the rest of us, Mr. Photography is my entire being.”

“That’s just it, Ms. Painting is my life,” Min Yoojin was truly annoying. He was, “I am bringing forth to my parents eyes only what they want to see. They wanna see business administration checked off on my college applications? That is fine with me, but remember that majors can always be changed once we set foot on campus.”

“So you’re lying now?”

“What is lying to a bunch of control freaks?” he took a seat on the stool right beside you. Yoojin, although sharing the same exact face as your best friend, they were so distinct. Yoongi was compliant. . he listened to his parents, much like you. He was content with letting them manage his life, and not letting them in to meet the real him. Yoojin wasn’t so afraid to go head-to-head with them and even though he was aware of the repercussions he wasn’t scared of putting his dreams and passions above all else, “this is our life to live. They let themselves be controlled by their parents but that doesn’t mean we also have to comply. So no, I have no remorse for lying.”

“Hm. What else are you lying about?” You placed your palm under your chin. His entitled banter was exceedingly entertaining and while you knew how snobby an affluent teen sounded complaining of the struggles attached to his rich and fortune, he wasn’t wrong.

All of you deserved your chances at living life. Your own lives.

“They think I’m in debate but I’ve been in the photography club since freshman year,” he explained nonchalantly, “oh, and my internship is in film not for some stupid finance company.”

“You’re bad, Min Yoojin.”

“Don’t tell me you have never gone against what your parents say?” he asked, “last I checked you have enrolled in every art related elective since year nine.”

“And you also stalk me?” you gasped.

“Do not flatter yourself,” Yoojin laughed, it was nice. Soft and peaceful, and it reminded you of the way birds sang in the early morning, “I did community service in the front office last year.”

“You do community service?” you joked.

“It’s mandatory, you jerk.”

“Whatever.”

The massive kitchen was stilled by silence for a couple of seconds and the two of you just sat by each other’s side. Your vision was transfixed out the massive window behind the sink focusing on the vibrant oranges of the evening sky descended on its journey to meet the horizon. He attention was still diverted to the remnants of the sugary breakfast delicacy.

His voice once again filled the void, “do you plan on sticking to your parents’ plans?”

“I have no choice,” your tone was soft—you despised the reminder of the lack of control over your life, “I do not have a twin to hide behind.”

He chuckled, “as selfish as it may be I’m thankful Yoongi serves as the model child in the Min penitentiary. They already expect disappointment from me so there’s not much to be disappointed about.”

“I suppose you’ve been lucky.”

His hickory russet eyes turned a soft caramel under the lasting golden hour. You have spent countless occasions in the company of Min Yoojin, but never have you had to sit this close to him, or had his eyes fixed on you the way they were now, and you certainly never felt yourself sparing so many thoughts at what lingered around in his mind.

It was all foreign but you found yourself welcoming in with open arms.

“You should be a painter,” he shot you a smile as he circled the massive island to place the dirty bowl in the sink, “I can see the way your eyes light up when any one mentions the arts.”

The feeling of his absent body beside you felt lonesome and frigid, you found yourself shivering as a result. It longed to have him take his place back on the seat next to you, even if it was in silence, even if neither of you had anything else to say, but instead you watched as he trotted up the stairs. Leaving you in the past like an afterthought never to be recollected again.

He can see the way my eyes light up when I mention the arts—that was short for: he’s paying you an ounce of thought, he sees you, he knows what you long for.

You wondered if he has noticed the same starkles in your eyes whenever the two of you crossed each other's paths?

Would he grow agitated at the sceneries he’d be exposed to if you ever let him cross through the tiny entrance of your heart?

Is he aware of the strumming ballad that loops within you at the mention of his name?

The feelings you bare were caged with torment—they would not do you any good but unfortunately you couldn’t shut them out. Even if it was unintentional, you wore it in your eyes, you know you did, so why hasn’t he noticed?

Perhaps, he has noticed and he simply can not reciprocate what you feel.

Your mind chose to believe the latter.

These ridiculous vivid dreams of yours had you on the brink of losing your sanity, this was the second one in the last twenty-four hours.

It’s astounding how you had to keep reminding yourself that Yoojin did not finger you against your kitchen counter the night before, you were not working in a portrait of his irritating face right now and you were certainly no longer high schoolers ogling each other behind unspoken words and forbidden confessions of love. He would never have you wrapped around his finger the way he did back then, no longer a blushing mess.

You were an adult now, and you would act as such, and that meant invalidating his existence entirely.

It would be as if he’s not even there.

Except, he would be.

Because your Yoongi will unfortunately be substituted by him, God, you almost forgot about that whole charade. How you wish it was only a depiction of your crudest nightmares.

You threw your velvet duvet over your head and groaned in exasperation—if you would have ever been placed in the worst scenario your life could’ve steered down, this was it.

“Yoongi and I are dating,” you practiced imagining the face of the ominous twin in replacement of your best friend. The amiability behind Yoongi’s sparkling radiance was replaced by darkness. Worse of it, it did not matter how identical Yoongi and Yoojin were because to you they were worlds apart.

The bright morning sun invaded your room as it pierced through the floor to ceiling glass windows. Usually, the view of the city serenades you with peace but today it was no use—you were in your own ordeal.

Walking into the kitchen your nostrils were invaded by a plethora of scents distinctive only to the most delicious of breakfast dishes.

“Yoongi, I thought you were taking care of Jimin this morning,” you rounded the corner only to be met with the distorted double.

“Good morning,” his wicked eyes were casted on you.

“Yoojin?” you remained at your place near the hall leading back to your room, “what are you doing here?”

“Yoongi, asked me to look after you.”

“Yoongi, would never do that to me.”

He chuckled, “I have no ill intentions.”

“Your very existence is an ill intention,” you spat at him. Hurtful words you hoped would give you some sort of satisfaction, they didn’t.

“I do not remember you to be this iniquitous.”

“There are eras you miss about a person, when you pack up and leave from one day to the other,” was he truly unaware of the vicinity of the concoction stirring away in your heart? Heartbreak and vengeance were a fatal mixture.

“Is one of these eras kissing random guys in the club?” He continued scrambling the eggs in the pan.

“Why do you care about Yoojin?”

I don’t. . besides all I’m saying is I left for my own sanity. .”

“Congratulations to you, Yoojin. Did you get to find yourself? I am beaming with happiness at your tales of self discovery.”

He threw the wooden spoon in the sink, the loud clank vibrated through the apartment “you know you don’t have to be such a bit-”

“Finish it,” you yelled, “fucking finish it!”

He walked up to you, completely disregarding the food he had been preparing for you, “you don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

“I’ll be a bitch all I fucking want,” you pushed him off of you, “you hear me? And I’ll be the biggest fucking bitch you’ll ever encounter.”

The doorbell to your apartment chimed while the both of you stood across from each other, fists balled, steaming with anger.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered over to him before walking towards the front door. Looking through the peephole, you saw your mother standing on the other side of the door. A string of curses escaped your lips as you realized the gravity of the situation.

Your mom was here, but so was Yoojin who would be pretending to be Yoongi, who would be pretending to date you.

“Fuck,” you tiptoed back towards Yoojin, “it’s my mother, please go hide in my room.”

“Would you look at that? You are mannered after all,” his sarcasm certainly was not appreciated but quarreling any further would only result in him not complying. So, you remained quiet, guiding him in the direction of your bedroom.

“Thank you,” you slammed the door and dashed back to welcome your mother in as she continued annoyingly pressing on the doorbell over and over again.

“Hi, mom,” you opened.

“Hi,” her voice was skeptical and her eyes roamed around the rest of the apartment behind you, “what took you so long to answer?”

“You just woke me up,” you fake yawned.

“No wonder you look a mess,” your mother never paid you a single compliment for as long as you could remember, you were only on the other end of her criticism and spiteful words, “are you gonna let me in?”

You sighed and moved away from your stance which once blocked the entrance to your house. She took a seat on the couch and waited for you to join her on the seat across from her. Your mother was a woman of great poise—possessing perfect posture, intelligible words and a pristine reputation.

As her only daughter, she expected nothing less than perfection of you.

She expected you to mimic her very being, something you truly did not hold an ounce of interest for.

“Have you spoken with Yoongi?” She asked.

“He knows of everything mother,” you replied, “he is the man I will be dating and my best friend after all.”

“That is the precise reason, I am against this entire. . thing,” she wore a sour expression on her face, “best friends should not marry each other.”

“You also believe marriage doesn't stem from love but the size of someone’s wallet,” though, it is true that your mom stood under the same scale of hatred you held for Yoojin, you always tried to hold a level of respect for her.

Though, sometimes it felt impossible.

“Watch your mouth,” she threatened, “your father may be buying all of this but I am certain you only pulled this stunt to escape your marriage to Choi Soobin.”

“You sold me off like cattle,” you stood, now pacing back and forth behind the couch, “you didn’t even consult me about it.”

“I don’t have to consult you about anything.” You scoffed but she continued, “you simply do as you are told.”

“That might have worked when I was a teenager in highschool,” you crouched down, placing your elbows on the backrest of the couch—your eyes now leveled to hers, “but if there’s one thing I will have control over is who I get to spend the rest of my life with.”

“We’ll see about that,” your mother was a woman of her word and although you knew technically she was right, you would not marry Yoongi. It was now within your full intent to marry as you please—you would not give her the satisfaction.

“This is not a debate mother,” the sternness in your voice remained, “I am telling you I will not marry to your choosing.”

“And I said, we will see about that.”

“Good morning,” the irritating voice announced itself, cutting through the heated atmosphere you and your mom had created, “I couldn’t help but come and greet you once I heard your voice.”

“Yoongi,” even the way she said his name was distasteful. . However you were preoccupied with the concern of whether she would actually buy the twin switch.

“I hope you’re doing well. It’s been quite some time since we last spoke,” Yoojin was proficient in adopting his brother’ vocabulary, in dropping the slight slugness of his real voice and picking up the pace in his words, his mannerisms resembled those of your bestfriends perfectly too. It was a bit odd.

If you didn’t know any better, you would say this was Yoongi right in front of you.

“I could be better.” She responded barely above a whisper—almost disregarding who the question derived from. For someone who considered herself to be of the highest societal rank she possessed a great deal of disrespect.

“He’s also doing well mom. Thank you for bothering enough to ask,” you hissed.

“I’ll concern myself with asking as soon as I see you walking down the aisle with him. When I am sure you are not doing this out og rebellion,” she stood grabbing her bag and walking slowly towards the entrance in her perfectly ironed skirt suit, “and clean up the place, would you? Your father and I do not pay your rent for you to be trashing the place.”

“Dad’s name is on the lease. Not yours.”

“What’s your father’s is mine and vice versa,” she turned back and patted your check with her palm softly. Clearly not looking to cause any harm but to fuel you with anger instead.

You walked right behind and waited for her to cross the threshold before slamming the door right behind her. You placed your hands on your knees, gasping for air. She was so agitating, it literally consumed every last bit of your energy every time you engaged in conversation with her.

Sometimes you wondered what cruel affairs you had been acquainted with in your past life to ever be condemned with a mother like her.

“I thought I told you to stay in the room.”

“Things just seemed much more interesting out here though,” he walked over to the kitchen island and stuffed his mouth with whatever he had prepared.

“I’m glad my afflictions are amusing to you.”

“Not amusing. . just less boring than all the white furniture you had me staring at in your room,” he hurled himself on the couch, now using his elbows to prop himself up, “how are you a painter and your apartment is lacking so much color.”

“I’m not a painter.”

“Still lying to yourself claiming it’s a hobby?”

You shrugged, “It is.”

“No, you’re just letting them win.”

“Yoojin, I am physically and mentally tired. There is no more fight in me and I wanna be alone, please finish whatever it is that you have to do and get the fuck out of my apartment,” you waved him off, walking back in the direction of your room.

“Hey,” he called out—you turned around, “I promise I didn't mean to cause a scene with you this morning.”

“Your promises mean nothing here.” you hollered back.

The afternoon strolled in a haste and Yoojin had managed to leave your apartment shortly after you kicked him out.

After cleaning the mess he left behind in the kitchen, you showered quickly and plopped back into bed—your energy had been absorbed by the two most irritable people in your life and frankly you had no energy to engage in anything else at the moment.

You just wanted to lay in bed in the dark and be consumed by your thoughts.

But as soon as your closed your eyes the incessant ringing of your phone blared through the otherwise quiet room.

It was Jimin.

“Jiminie!”

“Baby!” He matched your squealing tone, “How are you?”

“I’m . .” You paused, “exhausted.”

“Me too. I just finished my shift—and I saw Yoojin come in all pissed this afternoon.”

“And why do you assume it’s related to me?”

“He came in cursing your name. I’m pretty sure he put a hex on you at some point.”

“That little bitch.”

Jimin sighed, “So, what happened?”

“He was just at my house when I woke up—” you sounded just as baffled as did that very morning when you found him in your kitchen, “like he owned the fucking place.”

“Yoongi asked him to follow you up and make sure you made it in ok,” Jimin confessed, “while he took me home.”

“I would have much rather slept on the sidewalk.”

“You hate him that much?”

“Hate is not a strong enough word to describe what I feel towards Min Yoojin.”

“Should I give him a beating?”

Jimin’s protectiveness lurked dear to your heart. He was a dulcet person and his friendship was your most exorbitant and treasured possession.

“It happened long ago, Jimbles. You do not have to fight him.” You chuckled.

“I was just making sure,” he giggled on the other side of the line, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What did he do?”

“Well today he spoke the truth and I just didn’t like it. .” There was hesitancy in your voice. It’s not that you didn’t trust Jimin, it’s just that no one really knew what went down between you and Yoojin besides the two of you. Not even Yoongi, “But we also have a bit of a tension filled past.”

Jimin continued speaking but his voice became muffled, your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Still lying to yourself claiming it’s a hobby?

Against the venom you spewed his way his words had never vacated your thoughts. Matter of fact he never left once and even tonight you found yourself entranced by his articulation.

Still lying to yourself claiming it’s a hobby?

You had heard those exact words before.

“You’re still here?” He opened the door to Yoongi’s room abrasively allowing the hallway light to seep into the unlit room while you laid in your best friend’s bed.

“Yoongi said he was coming shortly,” your eyes remained on the ceiling, Yoongi had adorned the previously empty space with dozens of glow in the dark stars, “but then again that was like. . 20 minutes ago.”

“Lies,” he laid down next to you, “something tells me you’re still avoiding going back home.”

“And you are absolutely right.”

“Do you ever stand up to them?”

You looked over to him but his eyes remained on the vague luminary stickers up above.

“I do not believe that to be an option for me.”

“Why is that?”

“They—” you huffed, “I don’t even know.”

“Tell me.”

“They just make me feel so trapped. It’s like I’m drowning in a glass of water and although they see it and have the power to ease my sorrow. . They chose to opt out of helping and just continue to pour water in.”

There was a momentary silence until Yoojin finally spoke up, “Is that not just more reason to speak up?”

“They fund my entire life Yoojin. I cannot defy them.”

“Financial ties. . That’s always a strain.”

“I mean I would run away. . but who the fuck is going to hire an eighteen year high-school drop out who just couldn’t hold off a couple months to make it to graduation.”

“I suppose you’re right,” his tone was that of defeat, because although he was intransigent

—there was not a boulder large enough for him to hide behind, “I have only been able to hide behind Yoongi’s compliant nature for limited situations.”

“It’s like micromanagement gets them off or something.”

He burst out a thunderous laugh, “It really does, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” you smiled.

Yoojin and Yoongi were twins and while you were absolutely aware they shared even their own distinctive features—somehow the boy before you wore them differently. His smile was brighter, his eyes were richer in their brown hue, his cheeks were dusted with a glowing pink.

And you were drawn to all of it. You were drawn to him.

You wish you could yell it out on the highest of mountain tops, unfortunately, cowardice kept you immobilized at the slope and you were never able to reach its peak.

You would never be able to confess.

“You hang with my brother a lot. .”

“That’s a wise observation. Yoongi is my best friend, he’s my other half. You know that.”

“Yeah. .” he drifted off, “I’m actually trying to steer this in a different direction.”

“Steer away, Yoojin.”

His gaze landed on you, your eyes finally met for the very first time that day. For a moment, the sham stars on the ceiling became blinking lights like those rejoicing in the night, sprawled out through the dark sky just outside the window. Their light source became enough to spotlight the two of you.

He was glowing like never before.

“He’s just so determined on keeping his distance from girls. . I was just wondering if you held the same ideas about boys.”

“If I’m as celibate and hoeless as Yoongi?”

Yoojin nodded. He was serious.

“I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

“Truthfully.”

“I don’t hold the same ideas as Yoongi.”

“So you. .?”

“Are you asking if I’m a virgin?”

“I guess. .”

You were aware summer was nearing but none of that justified how hot the room became in such a short amount of time.

“We’re 19, Yoojin,” you said, “I haven’t been a virgin for months now.”

“I haven’t been one for a while either.” You asked for no elaboration, just hummed along to acknowledge his response, “but I also wanted to ask.”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Why do you ask?” Realistically speaking you didn’t care about his 10-page interview questions regarding your personal life. You just enjoyed the way he became shy even though he initiated the conversation. It was cute.

“You know. .”

“Is this how you normally flirt?”

“No,” he protests, “I’m not flirting.”

“Hmm,” you began, “so you haven’t been staring at my lips for the past ten minutes either?”

His eyes blew to the size of pool balls and while you were patiently trying to get this out of him, you also realized that a tiny push wouldn’t do—you needed to dive right in.

“For what it’s worth I did want to kiss you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you aren’t flirting with me remember so you must not want to kiss me.”

“Don’t do me like that.”

“I didn’t do anything. Those were your words not mine.”

“You’re cruel.”

You chortled and grabbed your jacket from where you previously hung it on the backrest of Yoongi’s computer chair. Your lips met his soft cheek leaving the trace of a timid peck.

“Tell Yoongi I got tired of waiting, will you?”

“I will,” He waved you off with one hand while the other remained on the cheek you kissed.

The park near the town square was empty today. As gloomy as the day was, all you could replay back in your head were all the happy memories you had lived through on a swing set very similar to this one when you were just a little girl.

Back then, you felt invincible. Like you could take on anything and come out victorious on the other side.

What would your eight year old self say today? Painted by cowardice you allowed your parents to drag you along your life like a rag doll, you let your life long crush trump your heart like dirt and now resented him for it.

You were a joke. A sad fucking joke.

The usual tint of azure in the sky was a light gray, but it hasn’t rained yet.

“Funny seeing you here,” Yoojin swept in, taking a seat on the swing right next to you.

“I arranged this meeting, remember?”

“How about you let us live in the moment,” he began swinging his feet back and forth, creating a bit of momentum. This was typical Yoojin behavior, deflecting, making jokes out of a serious situation, and being immature.

None of it was new to you.

“I summoned you out here as an attempt to have a serious conversation,” God knows you were trying, real hard. “Can you manage that?”

“I’m not five years old, you know.”

“You act like it.”

He heaved, “what is it that you want?”

“The annual end of spring Min party is in a few days—”

“I know.”

You shut your eyes as a remedy for patience which you needed to channel every ounce of. “We need to. .” you muttered, “get things together.”

“You and Yoongi have been best friends since forever. There’s no room to fabricate much.”

“But we do need to get certain details straight.”

“Analyze away.”

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were set on the multitude of birds utilizing the fountain nearby.

“We’ll tell them you and I became closer during this past summer. I know they think they’re giving us freedom but between my father and the Min’s they have practically already planned our wedding,” you cleared your throat, “well Yoongi and I that is.”

“Got it,” Yoojin nodded, “so pretend they haven’t been setting up this whole thing. Cool. What about your mom?”

“What about her?”

“After this yesterday morning. How do we convince her?”

“There’s no convincing her really but we cannot falter in our plans or she will schedule more Soobin dates.”

“I thought that was stamped as strictly platonic?”

“Since when have our parents cared about our opinions?”

“I suggest running away,” his joke had a bitter aftertaste which resided in the back of your throat.

“I know you’re good at that,” the words left your mouth, before you even processed them.

“Right.”

“Actually Houdini,” the mood shifted and although it was within your full intentions to maintain some sort of peace between the two of you moving forward, sometimes you just couldn’t help it, “after you disappeared, Yoongi and I scattered under your parents’ instructions to find you. They knew of your love for Thailand and Los Angeles so we went there for a couple of days but we obviously did not find you.”

“You searched for me?”

“We searched for you,” you corrected, “but after we came back our parents’ scrutiny became harsher and they began meddling in our personal life a lot more than they would.”

“All because I left. .”

It wasn’t really a question but you answered anyway by nodding your head, “I guess your parents were scared of losing Yoongi as well and even on the sidelines mine grew weary that I would do the same.”

He didn’t say anything—just continued staring off into the distance. Yoojin’s expression remained blank and again you despised how little he expressed through his emotion.

“Are you going to be ok seeing your parents after so long?”

“I’ll be fine. .”

“I suppose fine is okay but we have to be perfect.”

“We’ll be better than perfect.”

His lack of words was haunting and only accentuated the dismal afternoon. Right then you noticed the darkened tone the clouds had now adopted. If it didn’t seem like rain was on the forecast before, it most definitely was now.

You shivered a bit as a swift breeze sweeped by. In the back of your mind, you knew your walk back to your apartment as overdue but

“What if we have to kiss in front of them?”

“What of it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“If we’re dating I can’t necessarily shove you away, Yoojin.”

“I know. .” he murmured, “it’s just. This is super significant to you. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Not all of us run wild with your privilege at freedom. I’m doing what I can to satisfy my needs for now.”

“Satisfy your needs,” he licked his rose tinted lips.

You rolled your eyes, “Be fucking mature.”

“You made it too easy.”

Yoojin’s humor still tickled at your sides, and although you wanted to utter as much as a giggle, all your mind could muster up derived from every thing that happened that night all of those years ago.

You were aware you were being a bit resentful but your pain is irrefutable and there was nothing he could do to change the past or make you forget.

You would always resent him for it.

“Do you really have to walk around with your camera around your neck at all times?”

“You never know when something beautiful might turn up. I gotta be ready for anything.”

“You’re such a photographer,” you scoffed.

The trees were a deep emerald, it matched the color of Yoojin’s shirt. You hadn’t really noticed before. It was within your full intent to keep your eyes away from him—anything to stop your mind from behaving as recklessly as your heart. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

“Says the one who walked around school with overalls splattered with paint all over.”

“I’ve grown from that. You’re twenty-five looking exactly the same as you did all those years back.”

“Exactly the same?”

“That’s what I said.”

He laughed airily, almost snorting in the process. It was cute—NO. No it wasn’t.

“So I look exactly the same as the boy you couldn’t resist back in senior year?”

You hated him so much.

“The only difference is he was a better person.”

“I’ve changed, you know.”

“If you have to announce that you’ve changed then it makes it a little impossible to believe.”

“You haven’t even given me a chance.”

“That’s a little hard to do when my welcome was you butt ass naked in Yoongi’s kitchen, when you act one way around others and the complete opposite around me,” you spewed without caution, “you have not changed Yoojin. We are both here for a reason. Can we please not fuck it up for Yoongi?”

“Of course.”

On the day of your eighteenth birthday when the little hand on the clock struck twelve, you developed a tunnel vision with your own means of finding an apartment in order to reap some sort of freedom.

And eventually you sort of did.

Because while your apartment is far from your parents’ estate it simply wasn’t far enough and impromptu visits from your mom, like the one from this morning weren’t completely uncommon.

You supposed it was freedom on a limited time offer—but some was better than none at all.

Living in your parents’ house you often had to hide; of course they were aware of what they often referred to as your ‘less than ideal’ hobbies. Your life at their house was your own personal hell, a living nightmare and day-by-day you bore the grating corners of your soul. They disposed of your art tools, made calls to unregister you from art classes, they even destroyed your paintings with little regard to your hard work. Truly, they marked the worst years of your life.

Thankfully, you were able to make a clean escape, setting up your own art studio was the first step towards healing. You were able to work freely and display your work without a care in the world.

This was your haven; the only place where you were cocooned with warmth and safety.

So profoundly safe.

Sitting on the stool you stared at the blank canvas on the eisel, while an abundance of ideas streamed in your mind nothing was clear enough to portray. Your thoughts were jumbled into one like scribbles on a blank page all circling the one name you told yourself no longer resided within you.

The embellished walls of your makeshift exhibit were beaming as your paintings were hung on them with black frames. Every single one pinpointed a memorable time in your life—ranging from the beach you visited with the Mins’ every summer; the gardens in your family home you often used to escape to after school; the skate park Yoojin used to drag you and Yoongi to on Sunday afternoons; among other scenic places you were able to capture in your past.

It was a bittersweet stroll down memory lane.

That was typically your art style, capturing the landscapes that graced your vision.

There was your one attempt at a portrait up on the farthest wall from you. The brush strokes on his face featured the ample curves of his ethereal face, his hair sat on his head so perfectly as it usually did. Although, he was the real inspiration you had presented that exact painting as a gift to your very own best friend.

It was Yoongi to everyone else but it was Yoojin to you and it would only ever be Yoojin.

“I’m so glad you answered my texts,” Yoojin opened the passenger door to his car and stood aside waiting for you to go in but you stood beside him instead.

“Your power of persuasion has always been excessive. .” While you were couped up in the house, pulsed to the ends of earth by your own mind, reflection and existence Min Yoojin was the last person you intended on having an outing with.

“I didn’t hold a weapon to your head,” he argued, his eyebrows furrowed at the extent of your accusation, “you could have said no.”

“Get dressed. I'm picking you up in an hour,” you recited the text word for word from your phone, “doesn’t really supply much room for decision making.”

“Will you just get in the car please?”

“I do not take orders from you, Yoojin.”

“Oh, come on,” he leaned in closer to you as his lips shadowed over the shell of your ear. You felt as if you were out at sea, floating aimlessly as the tide dragged you farther and farther away. “That was one of the many things you loved about me.”

You elbowed his side, he grunted at the blow to his ribs, “I think you forget that your charms are dormant with me. Your spark has dimmed out.”

“My spark is everlasting.”

“Well, it died the moment you walked away,” you deadpanned.

“Just please get in the car,” he tried once more, he was exasperated by your banter but it only fueled your desire to see him crumble.

You scoffed, “Only because you said please.”

The minute you sat down your nostrils were invaded by the dominant fragrance of cedarwood and cypress inundating his car. A scent which was only unique to Min Yoojin, it tainted every inch of his skin; like the various paints which marked their territory on your canvas’. Just as that painting of him which wreaked havoc in your own heaven. It was intoxicating, invasive. . and just as alluring as you remembered.

If you could pinch your nose to block the smell you would.

“I hope you don’t plan to be lulled by your phone the entire time,” he closed the car door behind him before starting the engine.

“I hope you don’t think this is an open invitation for interminable conversations,” you rolled your eyes, still scrolling aimlessly through countless apps.

“I never took you for holding grudges.”

“I never took you for someone who would just believe he would be so easily forgiven,” a deep rancor rooted deep within you.

His knuckles hugged the steering wheel just a bit tighter, “I’m trying to make amends.”

“Fuck making amends, Yoojin. You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re not?” His tone blared within the small space of the vehicle. There was no serenity in your futile wanders across the deep blue sea. The foreboding clouds neared and raucous rumbles roared loudly—the streaks of thunder snapped the sky into pieces. You were astounded but he continued, “fuck I’m trying. You see that I’m trying. Don’t you?”

“Trying does nothing for me,” you yelled back.

He sighed, “I suppose we only tolerate each other today. . For Yoongi, as you say.”

The remaining car ride was soundless— the silence was increasingly deafening, causing your ears to ring continuously. It simulated the same insipid screams of lightning.

Still, you remained weightless in the buoyancy of the water.

You knew you weren’t a victim, you continued landing jabs at him. Out of pettiness, spite, vengeance. . whatever it was you dismantled him and you proceeded being drifted off by the soundless waves. The shore was no longer in your line of vision. Yoojin was mangled, though. You could read it in his features, with protruding pouty bottom lip, watery eyes and the indented wrinkles marking his forehead. Even when you found it in your heart to feel the slightest taint of remorse, you still remembered that he broke you first.

“What are we doing here?” The car pulled up to the Min boutique owned by Yoojin and Yoongi’s mother herself.

“You know how particular my mother can be about her ridiculous parties. She forwarded Yoongi the dress code set out for the both of you,” he explained, “and I figured it would be more bearable if the two of us endured this together.”

“So this is our first public outing. . Together?”

“Together.”

“You could have warned me.”

He leaned back on the leather seat, “I would but you’re so difficult to communicate with sometimes.”

“I could say the same about you.”

His eyes became ignited behind inextinguible flames and you could see your very own reflection burning away into ashes. It wasn’t always within your intention to rile him up continuously but it came so naturally to you.

“Can we just get through the afternoon?”

“I can definitely pretend.”

After handing his car keys to the valet, you and Yoojin walked into the Mins’ Boutique with your balmy palms clasped together, and your slender fingers intertwined.

Mindy, the store clerk greeted the two of you, “I organized the private fitting room with all your favorites and all the pieces in accord with your mother’s preferred dress code.”

“Thank you, Mindy,” the two of you followed the store clerk as she led the way up the glass stairs, away from all of the store attendees on the first floor, “you are too good to us.”

She was a short woman in her mid-forties who had been employed at the Min boutique for many years before you even knew Yoongi. She was graceful and often treated you and the twins as her very own children when you came in to visit.

Mindy was also someone your parents’ could not buy into your life—she too resided within the pumping walls of your heart.

“How are you doing?” She pushed open the clear doubled doors revealing the massive dressing room. The lights seemed bright and in the farthest wall there were two seperate rooms hidden behind dark green curtains. In the middle of the room there was a coffee table containing a champagne bottle in a metal chiller bucket, two glasses half way full and a silver platter with a handful of finger sandwiches, “I hear there’s romance sparking between you two.”

“Oh, yes,” Yoojin released you from his tight grip and traveled deeper into the private room, “we began seeing each other this past summer.”

“I always thought you would end up with one of those love birds,” she patted your shoulder lightly, you chuckled lightly in response, “just I always thought it would be Yoojin.” she whispered for only you to hear.

“He’s gone, Mindy,” in a way even though Yoojin was right there just a few feet in front of you, it was as if he wasn’t here at all.

“He’ll be back my darling,” her smile was soft; comforting, “If you guys need anything please be sure to let me know.”

“We will. Thank you Mindy,” she vowed and exited the room before leaving you and Yoojin alone.

“What was Mindy talking about?”

You took a sip of the bubbly liquor, “There was no specific topic.”

“But the two of you were glaring at me.”

“Noone was glaring at you.” We were discussing our intertwined destinies—she thinks you and I belong together. “You are so self centered, Yoojin.”

“Self centered?”

“That’s what I said.”

He threw his hands up in defeat, “Let’s just get to the clothes. Shall we?”

He signaled you towards the dressing room while picking up his phone disregarding your existence entirely, and the remainder of the time at the Min Boutique ticked away quickly as you rushed through the countless outfits laid out for you.

One after the other, Your temples glistened with sweat as you rushed into the fifth and last outfit—the one you perceived closer to your own personal style. It’s a white spaghetti strap mid-thigh dress with a ruffle hemline.

Trying it on felt like a breath of fresh air compared to everything you’d discarded previously. It hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating every single curve.

“Weren’t you supposed to come out and show me some of the clothes?”

“No, I don’t think I was supposed to do anything,” After changing back into your own clothes you walked out from behind the curtain with the dress in your hand.

He walked up behind you—those fucking butterflies erupted at your stomach once again, “lucky for you I like surprises.”

-

-

-

author’s note: this chapter kinda sucked but i hope its an enjoyable read nevertheless.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

[coffinsister]

Hi there!

I just wanted to let you know that I'd never heard of Saya no Uta until I saw you talking about it on my dash and I was like hey I'll look into that!! I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and it was definitely an experience. I've only played the route of choosing Saya and choosing to call Ryoko, so I still have to make the other choices to view all of the game's content, but I just wanted to come say thank you for giving me the second controversial piece of media I've been able to consume without my ocd throwing a bitchfit, because the whole story is fascinating from a psychological standpoint and that definitely drew me in.

I just wish the story was a little more 3D, I guess? Like the writing is overly descriptive of things it doesn't need to be descriptive of and underwhelming with the actual voiced dialogue. It's an extremely bizarre contrast. And from what little Japanese I've learn over the years out of SpInterest there are some translation points that aren't entirely accurate.

A big one is the fact that Saya speaks in third person which is a common cutesy mannerism for small children in Japanese media. In fact, she speaks super similarly to Maria Ushiromiya from Umineko ( complete with using 'uu!' for emphasis too ) which caused me to attach quickly to her for it. While it's true that this doesn't translate well into English, it does lose in translation just how young Saya really sounds while speaking. Because in Japanese she's saying things like 'Saya did this for Fuminori because Saya wants to be with Fuminori forever!' and it's getting translated as like 'I did this to make you happy. So you'll stay with me forever, right, Fuminori?' and those are two completely different tones. In fact, it's so overlooked from the English translation that this trope of hers isn't even mentioned on the The Song of Saya tvtropes page and that's wild to me.

Sorry, I didn't meant to turn this into a rant in your inbox asjklhd. Thank you for bringing this intriguing piece of media to my attention. 💖

Hiii, I'm so sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask but it was lovely getting it, so please don't apologize! We love getting long asks, and talking about our interests <3 And I'm really happy me basically screaming into the void about it, got you into it! That's great, that's exactly why I post about the things I like.

This was very interesting to read so thank you for sending it.

Side Thought: TV Troupes actually really really sucks for this kinda thing, it is widely innacurate with big media, and incredibly lacking for small media. So personally, I would not chuck TV Tropes lacking this as much to the (very bad, like super bad) official translation, as much as I would to the site just kinda sucking.

I'm sorry if I sound harsh, the website is fun, like any other wiki is, I just have personal beef against it, do not mind me, old man yells at cloud.

The first route I finished was also the one with Ryouko, and tbh, in my opinion that's the best one, but obviously seeing the other endings gives a lot of extra information, and character depth, so I hope you play through them and enjoy them too.

And yeah, I feel you, I wish it was more 3D and that I could have cared more about the characters, the writing definetly feels too much like purple prose, and way too descriptive about meaningless things sometimes, while also compeltley glazing over others.

Also big big same about the translation, I already posted my long rant about it, but it's really such a shame, because Nitro+ is actually so good at conveying character through dialogue, like actually reading some of the VNs in Japanese is a whole new experience on its own

And exactly as you said, it would have been far easier to understand Saya is a literally preubecent child if the translation had shown how childishly she actually speaks, or another big one, we would have gotten to see more of just how badly Fuminori wants to show off in front of Saya and Yoh, if the translation had actually shown him avoiding being fully honest with Saya.

Like there's so so many moments in Japanese of him just going, Well, about that, you know... to Saya when she's asking him about their plans together, and he's very reluctant to ask her for help, even when he really needs it, until she blatantly offers it, and he takes it.

In the Official English version he literally just goes "Well, the thing, Saya is that I failed to kill Koji, any ideas about that?"

So much character missed there, I feel like also missing the honorifics isn't helpful or good, like Yoh calling Oumi, Oumi-chan makes them feel way way closer, than just college friends who hang out between classes. And it gives you a better sense that they care for each other.

My hot take about translations is that they shouldn't just accomodate to what's most familiar to the target audience, in this case USA people, it should just make the media more accesible. It isn't a failure of art if it is a bit of a struggle to engage with it, it's good to make an effort to try to understand foreign art, even when the way the text is presented, isn't super familiar or relatable to you.

This is basically what everybody who isn't from an English speaking country already does lol

[vaicomcas]

I think a story where Jack brings back att the angels and most demons, and Empty let's them go cause they want to sleep, but takes Castiel's memories because they are still angry at Jack and Cas would be amazing.

Like Cas has memories somewhere before pulling Dean out of hell but everyone else around him remembers all that happened.

I wrote a really long ost about this fic idea byt tumblr ate it, so I am going to try again, I am sorry if I miss any details this time around.

There is an old post, about Naomi and Cas, I don't I will be able to find, but one person in the tags said, (paraphrasing) 'It would be intresting and kind of hillarious if only Castiel was mindwiped after his rebellions or disobidience and others rememberd.'

Cas loosing his memories after his lastest visit of the Empty would be as you said very messy.

Imagin, Jack goes to empty, after getting Chuck's powers, and Cas is not happy with the situtation but he also know they don't have much time, the Shadow is angry about everything. So Castiel helps Jack make a deal with the Shadow, to get most of the angels and hamdfull of Demons, who would actually help rather than messing them up evern more (Like Crowely, Rowena, Meg, etc), they deal with the rest and seasl the void so that the shadow is never disturbed again.

But before the leave, The Shadow takes Castiel's memories, or something happens, but Castiel does forget everything that happened.

So, as he comes back the last thing he remembers is planning a seige to hell, to pull out Dean.

And everything is a mess, right?

Hell is cahos, Deamons don't know who to obey, Rowena and Crowely are at eachothers throats.

Heaven is worse, Angels are hostile towards Jack, he is Lucifer's nephilim, raised by the Winchesters, he took Godhood from their father. They don't know if they want should trust him. Even Cas himself.

It doesn't long for everyone to realise something is very wrong with Cas, either. Like Cas then thought Balthzar is dead, and now when Cas doesn't remember, Batlh who is still angry doesn't know how to tell his brother, who is so happy to see him, he was the one to kill Balth. Similar interactions goes for Anna, for Samandrieal, for Racheal, and others.

Like all the angels are angry at Cas, but blowing up gets only confussion from him. And like he doesn't want to belive what they are telling him, because its too much and its disarterous for him.

Jack comes to realise, he doesnt know shit about Castiel or the angels or heaven and hell. He has no idea what to do and how to help

Like Cas is the one being who could have conneted all the frayed edges of Heaven and Hell, but he can't do that.

Its immposible to write this concept in way that would do justice to everyone, but it has a lot that can be explored

Wow, that really is a spectacular mess, isn't it? (in a good way) It is super interesting, but I can't even get started on how one would try to resolve it to satisfaction.

So then I started to blow it up even more:

In Hell, not only Rowena and Crowley would have unresolved issues, but Meg and Crowley too. And Crowley surely had issues with all the remaining demons, who first of all chose Lucifer over him, then also became loyal to his abusive mother while they were never truly loyal to him. I have no choice but to conclude that he would become an outcast of Hell in this situation (unlike almost everybody except one, I don't buy "redemption" of Rowena for suddenly become a loving mother after Crowley died).

Now onto Cas. I really hope that when Cas was in the Empty making the deal with Shadow he didn't let Naomi out, or the archangels. Because that would make Heaven as fucked up as before.

But do the angels who get out remember all of that past oppression? Do they, now free of Chuck's (the show's) narrative and Naomi's mind control, begin to think for themselves? Do they put the blame in the right places, and not just make Castiel the scapegoat of their enormous misfortune like the show made them do?

Assuming (probably too optimistically, but I can't bear the alternative) that this is the case, Castiel would still be under so much distress, as you described, hearing all the horrors, not wanting to believe, not remembering any of it, yet couldn't not believe.

Then I really don't want him to recover his memory; because it would just be so devastating, especially, also, if he remembered Jack, and realized that his son had learned about all of his "crimes", and understandably became disturbed, if not traumatized by that knowledge.

Whew, knives in the heart at every turn in this story, isn't it?

So then I can only come to one conclusion. Castiel, heartbroken, not knowing who he was anymore, banishes himself from heaven, meeting Crowley who was on the run as an outcast from Hell. Castiel may initially distrust a demon, but he thought himself in no position to judge anyone anymore; while Crowley remembered his fondness for his old friend, and welcomed the clean-slate they were given. Castiel and Crowley found the only source of solace in each other in this new world that was no longer theirs.

What happened to Jack through all this? I have no idea LOL.

Thanks for elaborating on this idea! You blew something up and I followed the ejecta in one direction, but there are a lot more ways to go.

[blushstories]

Hey, I was wondering if your requests are still open. If they are can I request a Loki x gn reader with sever adhd. There are so little of reader inserts that have adhd and I was wondering if you could do that. I hope that made sense.

Examples can include staring off into space, fidgeting, pacing, childish behavior, inability to think clearly ext.

Thank you! -Greenie 💚

hey greenie my love!! thank you for trusting me with this request! i hope you like it <3

Frustration bubbles under your skin as you drag your eyes back to the beginning of the page, having not been able to understand a word of it. But you're desperate to find relief in a fictional world that isn't threatened by alien invaders at least once a year, so you try again. Maybe it will work this time. Deep breath. Your leg bounces.

Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know ... what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been ... to regard a coffin-nail ... in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and ... disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Half of the words are immediately swept away by the winds of your wondering mind into an unreachable void, where time stands still while it steals your focus. And by extension, your comprehension of the words in front of you.

With a heavy exhale, you slip the bookmark between the pages, chuck it to the side, and sink into the cushions of the sofa with an arm over your eyes.

"What's the matter, my love?" A familiar voice greets your ears, but you take a moment to regulate your irritation at yourself before responding. "I can't read, Loki!" You say, followed by an indecipherable upset sound that makes Loki frown. "Nonsense. I've seen you do it," he says. You sit up. He's standing with his hands behind his back and a slight tilt to his head. "No, no. I can read the words -- barely -- but I can't follow the story. Ever," you sigh, rubbing your left eye.

"Sometimes," he begins, making his way over to you and sitting on the cushions next to you. "It might help to have a change of location..." His words remind you of the other 'location' that is your messy bedroom, that you must get around to tidying soon. "...Thor was livid, I was vexed, mother was..." Steve seemed a little ruffled this morning, didn't he? You wonder whether it was a mission or whether Tony's wriggled underneath his skin again. What would happen if you were to ask him?

"Y/N?" You recognise the carpet underneath your feet again, sucked back into the present and out of your head. Caught. "Oh, Loki. I'm sorry, I think I heard maybe five percent of that," you say quickly. "I can't help it, I'm not ignoring you on purpose, I promise. I just--" "I know. I suppose reading it to you aloud would just complicate things further?" You nodded. "Not to worry, darling. It wasn't an important story anyway." He leans over to kiss your temple tenderly, as if he can feel the irk radiating off of you. His touch is cool, calming as usual, and it lingers on your jaw, under your ear.

"You understand yourself tremendously well, did you know? Even though it may be cause for frustration sometimes, you are never disheartened for long. I admire you as much as I adore you," he mutters, lips ghosting over your skin. He pecks once to your jawline and retreats, the moment before you're certain you may spontaneously combust. His hand swishes through the air in a motion that you don't quite catch, and in it appears a clear bubble-like ball, filled with smaller, multi-coloured spheres.

"I have it on good authority that this may help, you to concentrate," he offers it to you. It's soft, certainly squishy, and captures your attention with the versatile texture. You smile, and lean to kiss his cheek yourself. "Thanks for being patient with me. I know it can't be easy sometimes," you say, shuffling to wriggle underneath his arm and nestle into his side. He accepts you without another word, pinching the flesh of your arm lovingly and giving it a little shake before patting the area.

You watch the ball as you squish the little bubbles around, "Could you tell me that story again? You were vexed why?" Loki chuckles, chest vibrating under your shoulder.

"Well, you see: I was in the library, Thor was in the gardens. He saw me through the window..."

[oatmilk-earlgrey]

MORE GOOD OMENS 2 HIGHLIGHTS/ THOUGHTS that I’m shouting out into the void

THE DANCING at THE BALL AHHHHGGHHGFD

is it bad that I think the metatron’s coffee order sounds really nice? (too soon? sorry 😬😬 but note my user…)

That whole ‘Smitten, I believe. You’re being silly🥰’ Scene resides in my head absolutely rent free

Fell the Marvellous AKA… azirapapala aziraphala- (Furfur was a great character I love a lil loser)

Magician aziraphale & his overly supportive assistant

that’s what…☹️friends☹️…are for… *both of them looking upset :( *

Not nice. (*Wiggles finger in face flirtatiously*) Off my head on laudanum. Not responsible for my actions !

Said it before. Will say it again. Magic shop scene. AGGHHHH ✨✨

Aziraphale Biggest hypocrite in existence ever - poking fun at Muriel’s caricature-police-officer disguise - ‘of course you are’ - RIGHT BEFORE leaving for Scotland in a caricature-journalist- disguise. Silly guy

v a v o o m 👏

‘How’s your naked man friend?’ Crowley: 🤨🤨 *vine boom* 🤨🤨

I love how all of the demons are just ✨losers✨. Even Shax thinks she’s this super cool shape shifting mastermind but she uses it to find out how to fix the boiler and to try & get dirt on A&C because she’s bored

Of course. Of course he loves trains.

Anthony - J - areyouabooksellertoo?notevenatgunpoint- Crowley dramatically carrying a massive pile of books for literally no reason other than to chuck them around

Michael physically cringing at Gabriel’s ‘Wherever Beelzebub is, is my Heaven’

AVAUNT FOUL DEMON…oh it’s you! ☺️

!!!!! Fssshh stars everywhere!!!! perfectly mirroring the drunk scene before Armageddon why is no one talking about that? !!!! Fsssshhh stars crashing down!!!!

Aziraphale’s heartbroken face as he clung to the tumour that killed a seven year old boy made me tear up.

[rocketshipinspace024]

??? Void Introduction

*camera starts recording. A shadow appears on screen, and in the abyss where a face would be stars twinkle on the other side of a black hole. They wave at you.*

Hi everyone, my name’s Andy (they/them). I am the ghost of-

*lights flicker, not because of anything paranormal but bc someone broke in off camera and started chucking salt everywhere and tripped over the lights* not that kind of ghost, god fucking damn it not aGAIN-

*camera glitches. The lighting is fixed. The only human thing about the Void is their frustration. The nebulas floating across their form manage to convey the utmost annoyance.*

Hi. I’m the Void, or the Abyss, and you can call me Andy. I’m the ghost of universes that once were. *squints at someone off camera, celestial orbits clearly raising a frying pan just off frame* if you mention the multiverse I swear to god-

*camera glitches*

So yeah, I’m travelling around, dipping into different stories and fixing them up, trying to give them a happier ending, y’know?

*if the Void had eyes, they would be sad. Instead, there is only the constant drift of broken planets and colliding stars.*

I’ve seen so many things end badly for the people, or characters, involved, I want to try and make it a little bit better, one story at a time. Like the Good Place, except in the found family sense and not in the making me bawl my fucking EYES out at the end-

*camera glitches*

-just a silly little nerdy cosmic mess trying to have fun. I hope if you are interested, check out my blog for talking about my stories, to the writing process, to just generally fun things to talk about. I hope if you do put some faith in this Not-Universe, you enjoy reading or chatting, and that it makes you smile. If you do, come talk to me! I’m always looking to meet new people whenever I drop in on another world.

Even if you don’t say anything, have fun, and remember: you are never alone, even if you can’t see all the stars surrounding you.

*The sweet moment is interrupted by the thumping footsteps of a large animal of some kind, and something knocks into the camera, sending it to the floor as the Void, meteors flying, tries to shoo the beast*

Sorry, Ghost gets a little over excited when he meets a new friend- Ghost, quit slobbering all over me you oversized bread basket-

*camera glitches to a close up of a very ruffled Void, dwarf planets askew and stardust swirling as they hurry to say farewell* Ok, enjoy! Bye!

*camera cuts*

[lady-of-imladris]

Results of the "Where would you hide a Silmaril" post!!!

Hello everyone, sorry this took a while. But here are the results of this post. PLEASE READ THE UNHINGED RANDOM ONES. I will put them [HERE] in a separate post, as well as at the bottom of this post.

There will be charts for nice data representation (I used pie charts because I was taught NOT to use them and... fuck the rules)

We had a hot total of 127 people who either commented or reblogged with their opinion in the tags. Thank you to everyone who participated!!

Here are the numbers

31: give it to them

1 draw a sad face on it

1 in exchange for marriage proposal

2 in exchange for money

1 “I’m not dying for Feanor’s kidney stone”

1 in exchange for protection

11: body of water

5: people who accused me of having a silmaril

9: eat

after 23 hours

eaten by dog

6: volcano

7: NSFW edition

my ass

“up my… no I shouldn’t say it… the ocean”

“… either they wouldn’t look there or I’d have a good time while they’re looking

“I can’t bring myself to say it”

“In my pussy. Those gayboys wouldnt have the guts to retrieve it. Thank god Celegorm isnt in the picture”

“In my pussy. Sorry but 2 fine af war criminals in my house??! sorry not sorry daddy”

“I’d rather not say what my first thought was”

4: nope, not touching that

And now for the unhinged answers:

Here are the numbers:

54 unhinged answers:

5: Higher entity

“Give it to melkor because good luck getting it from that guy”

Ulmo

Tom Bombadil

Bilbo [Yes he counts as a higher entity]

Yavanna

3: Mess

Brother’s room

Wardrobe of the boys’ room (underneath lego)

Deepest darkest part of the woodshed

5: object permanence (it will disappear on its own)

parents’ basement between tomato sauce and baked beans

“I’d probably just lose it anyway”

“Wherever my left sock is”

“One of my “safe places”. It magically disappears within 24 hours”

“My special powers would kick in and it would never be found”

4: Proximity (hide it where they least suspect it. Close to them.)

Reverse pickpocket one of them

Maedhros’ underwear drawer

Near a Feanorian house

Under their own floorboards

2: cast it into the void

11: Urban

Hospital storage room

Toronto union station (a literal maze due to construction)

Go to a carnical and replace one of the lightbulbs with it

Gravel mine

Archives of a museum

“School or McDonalds, neither of these places feel like they exist on the mortal plane”

Bell tower

2: Ball pit

The trash

A random train station

Flush it down the toilet

4: Angband or Valinor

Bury it underneath the roots of the two tees

give it to Cirdan so he ships it off to valinor

3: Wear it

2: Wear it as a necklace

“Wear it and pspsp the Feanorians, dying in the process of trying to pet them”

RANDOM

Rig my house with cameras, assemble all light sources and plug them in, hide the silmaril inside a lamp, withdraw to a friend's place and watch them wander through my house like confused moths. Optional popcorn #noldor enrichment

Bury it in the garden with the potatoes. Good luck with the geese

Hide it in the middle of millions of other shiny rocks and run. Probably after drwaing a smiley on it

Feed it to a chicken and throw the chicken into the depths of khazad dum

Drive into a random direction and chuck it into a landfill

gollum-style underground, wrap it in a dozen bags and dump it into a deep but narrow crevice

Panic, try to eat it, spit it out, panic, dig a hole, throw myself into hole, panic, climb out, wait for them, throw it in their face while panicking

My pocket

Inside a washing machine, they would never look there

Wheel well of my heelies

Behind an army of therapists with a burning commitment to family gruop therapy. Either we'll scare them off or make some progress

Hand it to a little kid on the street

Inside a water mellon and say I gave it to a friend

British museum, god knows they'll never give it back-.

Box of tampons under the sink

inside a large rubber duck

Give it to deadpool

Buy a wedding dress and wait

Bring it to the shire. Even the Feanorians can't come after hobbits without looking like total dicks to a level even they aren't okay with