#Tape 6 Side A

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

[bootyful-seventeen]

I love how my dumb ass had never realized that the tv stand/cabinet in the living room was deep enough to fit three towns of vhs tapes. It gets worse when it’s the exact same one my grandma had the big block of a tv in

[countdown-til-sanders-take-over]

So hows it going 😀

TMAGP 7 is a WILD ride

[is-your-name-anronpa-cause-dang]

HEADCANNON

Tsumugi refers to herself as a perfect Junko copy but I don’t think that’s correct. Tsumugi isn’t a perfect copy of Junko, because she uses her(Junkos) plan, her idea and ‘mind’ as a failsafe but I don’t think junko would use failsafes, shed like the excitement of her plan falling to bits without a net underneath her, cause if there was one it wouldn’t be fun.

Original Enoshima didn’t try to escape nor stop her execution once the decision to vote hope and kill her, -trial wise- had been put in motion, and in the anime, in her purgatory/ little cinema hell that she watches with miss chisa after she dies, the following conversation goes as:

Junko: aww! The story’s already over?

Yukizome: No.

Enoshima: Hm?

Chisa: Bizarre as it sounds, our Hope is just getting warmed up.

Enoshima: Lame.

Enoshima: Huh. As if I even care.

Enoshima: Get over yourself, slut. We're dead!

 (English dub) (future arc episode 12)

I don’t think she cared for continuing her story after she died either. She said something about it being new and not expected,(in a good way) in the future arc season when the next mastermind was revealed.(this is also cinema) She didn’t appear to want to keep her title as a sort of weekly mastermind.

‘but her alter ego carries on her wrath in sdr2!’ I hear you cry. Well even if she claimed she made that by herself, she wasn’t chihiro fujisaki, a programmer, and had to get some sort of help to do so. So there can definitely be some very small differences when she built another her. She could have changed her ideology after her death, but not be able to update her alter ego. also, she’s completely unpredictable and does things by random, (let me remind you that she killed her sister on the bases of boredom) so she could probably have separate ideas to her AI. This means she can plausibly disagree with her alter ego self and this can still sort of make sense

Back to my first point- Tsumugi kept fighting in trial 6/ chapter 6 because it would end danganronpa, and in turn, popularity. (i don’t believe junko would care to make a legacy so long and dragged out all for 53+ seasons, she wanted to die asap and it would be ‘boring’ if there was season after season after season. Please remember she got bored with herself easily)(<-) Also, Junko DID want to bring despair onto its viewers/ survivors of The Tragedy which is the whole reason trigger happy havoc’s game aired. And, in its most roundabout and basic form, that was what kiibo was for, so kudos to tsumugi I guess but it did kind of backfire into hope because she decided to give the walking Twitch-Chat-Plays-Danganronpa sentience so her plan backfired horrifically so no dice. (so ^this WAS my original statement but on further thought I actually think junko does/ would be ok with this, but she would be incredibly bored with her playing mastermind every time. She also wouldn’t like Tsumugis narrative with her playing Junko or the ‘enoshima pops up from the dead afton style in a despairing fashion’ with zero context.[I add this at the bottom instead of the top instead of where it originally was because it got too long.)

ALSO!!! Tsumugi copied the secret entrance idea. Also also she uses timers/deadlines (ha) to fall back on if things fail. Yes, while Junko raised her hand over Sakura to kill someone if things didn’t pan out, she would not directly murder like Tsumugi did. this does raise a concern: does Tsumugi and Junko the 53rd count as the same person? Does Tsumugis actions mean Junko did it too? Or are they separate if they aren’t in cosplay? I’d assume no because it’s just her cosplay and all, but if it is in costume? What happens??

Think about it this way: Tsumugi could only kill and slip up as a junko copycat because she knew about the hidden door, therefore she’s the mastermind, and junko is the mastermind, so she’s junko, but OG Junko cannot kill in the circumstances that were posed, So they aren’t the same person? So there’s two masterminds? That doesn’t make sense, their the same person. And now we’re back at square one. However she’s the same person because as far as I know, tsumugi doesn’t canonly have D.I.D so technically, every cosplay personality is already in her mind from her will. But theres still very clear differences between them. Even so, I still think I have something here

To simplify it, I’ve made four routes I can go down to explain this fuckery:

Tsumugi and Junko are different and it’s a multiple personality situation (if we assume this based off of the little evidence, there would be a whole other seperate kerfuffle but also junko remembers everything tsumugi does so memories are linked, and the outfit changes, and that’s not a very common thing to make people change a character. Oh yeah alSO EVERY OTHER CHARACTER THAT IS CHANGED INTO , YEP THAT WOULD ALSO MAYBE BE A CHARACTER So let’s not go here. There are easier ways to lose your mind)

It’s entirely Junko. Tsumugi is Junkos fake identity. (Does not match up with what has been previously stated.)

It’s entirely Shirogane. Tsumugi and Junko53 are the same people. There isn’t a seperate Junko entity, it’s just Tsumugis will. (The most sense, maybe this was what ‘copycat criminal’ meant?)

Tsumugi and Junko are different people. But not in D.I.D . They’re just two separate entities. (No.)

Conclusion? I lost my damn mind going down this rabbit hole.

The conclusion you are actually interested in: I think Tsumugi is infact not a perfect junko copy, but she’s a danganronpa employee and a fairly convincing copycat with unlimited funding and a spaceship

[urdeadbestfriend]

if I can’t get this DVD player to work then I guess I just have to kill myslef 🤷‍♂️

[stellamusing]

Don't mind me, I'm just over here trying on the sixth fucking front-bodice muslin that I've made for this godforsaken dress and finally having an "IT FITS!!!! IT FITSSSSSSSSSS" moment

[sirfrogsworth]

Remember this joke?

Well, I am going to do something similar only with photography. This is a photo someone took for an Amazon review of their Clinique products.

Honestly, it is not a terrible photo. They did some staging. They have an interesting background. All of the labels are legible. It is properly exposed. This would be a perfectly acceptable product photo for an Etsy page.

I've been taking these advanced photography courses in preparation for whenever I am able to create a new studio in the house. And my teacher is a photography badass. I just watched a 6 hour class on how to recreate a professional Clinique ad. And at first glance it looks deceptively simple. It's just some skin care products being splashed with a little water.

Which is why I wanted you to see an average person for reference.

This is what Karl Taylor came up with.

And I don't think I've learned so much about photography in one tutorial before.

Product photography is just loads and loads of problem solving. You have to light the chrome caps with a gradient. Which requires giant diffusion scrims.

Those big white panels are literally only there for the two chrome caps.

You need a pure white background, but you can't let light spill all over the studio, so you put up giant black light blockers.

And you have to add another light just for the orange bottle on the right.

Oh, and if you want the bottles to glow, well, you have to hide a silver reflector behind them.

But you still want the edges of the bottles to be darker so they have some contrast. So you add some black tape to the sides.

And in order for the reflective labels to have bold black lettering, you have to reflect black cards into them.

Ack! Karl's beautiful bald head is showing up in the chrome caps! He must put on the naughty blanket.

And once you get every aspect of every bottle perfectly lit, you finally get to yeet some water at it all.

I don't love product photography because I have a weird obsession to help greedy corporations make their wares look more beautiful. I love it because it is a complicated and challenging new puzzle every time. Every product is a different shape and requires a different technique to make it look its best.

I don't know if I will be able to live up to Karl's standards.

This is about the level I was at in 2017 before I quit photography.

I have so much more knowledge in my brain now. I'm really hoping I can surpass that.

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 ( 6 ) TAPES FOUND BY "SCREAMPIED"

𓉸ྀི an. hi people welcome to my first kinktober event! some things may be scrapped + tweaked or added on but i will try my best to complete them all. make sure to heed each of the warnings before each fic. happy almost spooky season! ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა taglist : open

𓉸ྀི cw. all “tapes” will contain explicit content and will each be tagged accordingly with their proper warnings.

OCTOBER 1ST. BLOODLINE.

feat. vampires! sukuna ‘n choso + threesomes.

؏  summary. when they’re both 10s but they’re also vampires. hungry blood-thirsty vampires who’ll stop at nothing to claim you. with how sweet you taste, maybe humans aren’t so bad after all.

cw. vampire! au, threesomes, double penetratíon, manhandling, spít-roasting.

OCTOBER 7TH. WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER?

feat. ghostface!toji + roleplay / knife play.

؏ summary. you know girl, usually when someone’s about to get stabbed, they scream—not moan. ghostface is supposed to be scary, intimidating, terrifying. but what happens when he’s tall, hot, and has a scar that runs down the right side of his lip? maybe his motive this time was to make you scream out his name in another way. welcome to act three.

cw. slight dacryphilia, glove + mask fetish, manhandling, body worship, corruption kink.

OCTOBER 14TH. THE GRUDGE.

feat. ex-husband! gojo + hate séx.

؏ summary. perhaps screwing your ex-husband while the kids are out trick-or-treating wasn’t the best idea. it was only supposed to be one more time—but that’s never the case, especially when you literally were once married to gojo satoru. but with him, the only treat he wants to trick is not in a basket—it’s right between your legs. boo!

cw. brat taming, hate séx that turns into make-up séx, dumbification, body worship, brēeding kink.

OCTOBER 21ST. DEMON DICK GAVE ME AN A!

feat. true form! sukuna + monsterfucking.

؏ summary. in dire need of inspiration for a last minute demonology project you end up actually summoning a demon by accident. not only is he just a demon, but he’s sukuna ryomen—the king of curses. he’s pissed, ticked, but most importantly, he’s got two … dicks?

cw. college!au, heian era sukuna, manhandling, he uses his stomach mouth(s), double penetratíon, bréeding kink.

OCTOBER 29TH. STILL WATCHING?

feat. cult leader! geto + exhibitionism.

؏ summary. think twice before you decide to act like a brat in front of your cult leader boyfriend. what you thought would just be another lame bent-over-the-knee spanking for a punishment was instead geto shamelessly fucking you in front of his entire cult. but thanks to you, his meeting just became a lot more interesting . .

cw. brat reader, public séx, dumbification, órgasm play, spít kink.

OCTOBER 31ST. GHOST IN THE MACHINE.

feat. neighbor nanami + órgasm control.

؏ summary. playing with yourself on halloween night? check. forgetting your walls are literally paper-fucking-thin? check. not being able to make yourself finish? embarrassing also check. but thanks to your neighbor, he fixes that for you. what does screampied really mean? you’re about to find out.

cw. guided masterbatíon, pleasure dom nanami, body worship, praise, turning nanami pússy drunk, bondage.

filmed by screampied.

[phantomrose96]

More and more I’ve been getting distressed over how “long ago” certain “chronological events” were. But I think I’ve come to the conclusion that time is not linear and anyone who claims it is is a scammer or a cop.

2013 was 10 years ago. 2014 was 6 years ago. 2017 was recent, but the kind of recent with a comfortable buffer of aged time around it, like a nice cheese. 2019 likely did not happen, and if it did happen it was a filler year that is optionally skippable and doesn’t actually contribute to passing time. 2020 lasted 2 years but in a side timeline that does not actually push 2014-2018 any farther back. 2021 and 2022 were a single year. 2018 was 2.5 years ago. The last 9 months were the void where the tape recorder runs out. Do you get it?

[wosoamazing]

Trying & Trimester 1

Baby x3 | Baby, Baby... Baby?

Summary: The first trimester of pregnancy

Warnings: IVF, Pregnancy (morning sickness at end)

“Bebé, if I have to sit it’s only fair you sit too,” Alexia whined from her position on the couch.

“I’m coming Ale, I am just getting you a hot water bottle,”

“Per què?” 

“You know the answer to that,” you told her as you sat down next to her handing her the hot water bottle which she immediately put on her stomach as she pulled you inside her side.

“Thank you,” she whispered before focusing back on the match you had playing on the screen.

You’d met Alexia when you signed for Barca in 2016, having previously played for Chelsea, you were in the academy there before making your senior team debut in 2013. A month into you being at Barca Alexia asked you out, and a year later you tore your LCL, ACL and your internal meniscus, ending your playing career, and ‘ruining’ Alexia’s proposal plans, however 6 months later Alexia proposed to you and you of course said yes. You were both now happily married and you worked for Barça as the assistant coach for the women’s team. 

—————

“You’re doing IVF now aren’t you?” Mapi asked when you walked out onto the pitch the next day at training. You’d grown close to Mapi over the years, due to her being one of Alexia’s best friends.

“Why do you say that?” you asked.

“You were both away yesterday, Alexia is only doing light training today and she has been snappier than usual for the past two weeks,”

“We are, but we didn’t want to tell anyone other than Eli because we’re not sure if it will work or not,” you admitted and Mapi nodded before hugging you.

“If you need anything just ask,” she told you firmly before going to warm up.

“Bebé, are you feeling okay?” Alexia asked as she emerged from the office, having taken the day off for your egg transfer, only to see you laid on the couch in a foetal position, under a blanket despite the heat. 

“What if it doesn’t work again,” you mumbled, having already tried three times, all three being unsuccessful, you just really wanted a baby and it wasn’t working.

“Then we try again or we look at other options,” she reasoned with you and you nodded, before climbing onto her lap, she wrapped her arms around you tightly placing her chin on top of your head before she felt you start to softly cry, “It will be okay, we’ll be okay,” Alexia said and you were unsure whether she was reassuring your or herself, she was unsure about that too.

“You’ve been having a lot of blood tests lately, are you sure you’re okay?” Aitana asked you as she’d noticed the tape on your arm.

“Yes I’m sure, when they did the first one, some of my levels were out, so they are just doing subsequent ones to check they’ve fixed themselves,” you lied to her, but thankfully she believed you and nodded before walking away.

“Are you okay?” Mapi asked, knowing the real reason why, it was just you and her left in the meeting room.

“I think. We will find out this afternoon, so it’s just a waiting game,” you told her and she nodded giving you a brief hug before you both left the meeting room and headed out to the pitch.

—

You were visiting Eli when you got the email, having stepped foot into the kitchen when you got the notification.

“Ale, Babe, come here,” you said and she was quick to leave her spot on the couch and to be at your side, “it worked?”

“It worked?”

“Sí, look here,” you said as you put the phone in her hands, she looked down to read it and her face softened before she looked back up to you.

“You’re pregnant,” she said quietly.

“We’re having a baby,” and with that she hugged you tightly.

“Felicitats,” Eli said through tears before hugging you both.

“Què està passant? Per què tothom plora? (What’s going on? Why is everyone crying?)” Alba asked as she emerged from her bedroom.

“You’re going to be a Tia,” you told her and her face twisted in confusion before she soon realised and was joining the group hug, starting to cry as well. You messaged your parents to tell them the exciting news, knowing they wouldn’t be able to answer your call currently, before Alexia messaged Mapi to also tell her the news.

Leading up to your six week ultrasound your breasts had started to become more tender and you were peeing a lot more than you used to, which you expect to happen until further into your pregnancy, and it was safe to say the multiple trips to the bathroom every day was getting old fast. It was during your six week ultrasound that you found out you were having multiple babies, it was decided that you would be booked into see a perinatologist, in four weeks, to confirm the number but also make a plan for your pregnancy.

—

“And if you see here we have three babies, who have perfectly split and all have their very own sack,” the perinatologist said as he pointed to the screen, where your three babies were displayed.

“How’s that possible?” Alexia asked in pure shock she knew how it was just crazy.

“It’s a one in a million chance that an egg with split into three, so yes, very rare but it all is looking good, I’ll print those off for you whilst you get cleaned up and then we can talk more about the pregnancy and how we’re going to approach this,”

“Three?” you asked as you looked at Alexia, both still shocked.

“Sí, but we are going to love all of them, we can do this,” she reassured herself.

The perinatologist explained some things to look out for in the pregnancy, he also told you that your symptoms would most likely be worse than a single pregnancy due to having more hormones, which explained why you already needed to pee so much. He spoke more on what conversations and tests would also need to happen further into your pregnancy.

“Bebé,” you heard Alexia say groggily from your position on the bathroom floor, “are you okay?” Before you had the chance to respond you were leaning back over the toilet, “Oh bebé, estic aquí,” Alexia said softly as she positioned herself on the ground behind you, rubbing your back, “do you need anything?” she asked as you collapsed back into her, having finished.

“Stay,” you replied out of breath.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she said as she settled in more leaning up against the wall before pulling you into her side.

“You were up all night last night with me, and the night before, and the game this weekend is important, you need to be rested,” you said as you sat up again.

“Et tinc, estàs bé,” Alexia murmured as you sat back up to lean over the toilet, once again collapsing back into her once you were done.

“You’re more important than a game bebé and don’t ever think otherwise, if you’re worried about me getting injured I won’t play, you matter more than football does, promesa.” Alexia said and you hummed in reply, “Do you want to go back to bed or stay here? I bought some sick bags this afternoon,” you let out a sigh of relief at that, the stress of accidentally throwing up somewhere other than the toilet could be lowered.

“Bed please,”

Alexia helped you stand up and clean your teeth before she guided you back to the bed. Helping you sit up against the pillows before sitting beside you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders as you rested your head on her shoulder, she placed a sick bag in her lap, so it was easy to grab if you did end up needing it.

“T'estimo,” she said into the crown of your head, placing a kiss there as her hand ran up and down your side.

“I love you too, thank you for helping me, I’m sorry I keep throwing up,”

“Bebé, of course I would help you, and it’s not your fault, you’re growing three little babies in there. But I still think we talk to the doctor, just incase it doesn’t go away,”

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Duran Duran - The Chauffeur 1982

Rio is the second studio album by English band Duran Duran, released in 1982. A new wave album with musical elements such as dance and synth-pop, Rio is mostly composed of fast, upbeat numbers, with a couple slower synthesiser-based ballads. The cover artwork, painted by Patrick Nagel and designed by Malcolm Garrett to resemble 1950s cigar packaging, is considered one of the greatest of all time.

Duran Duran shot music videos for many of the album's tracks, all of which helped spearhead the 1980s MTV revolution. Accompanied by three worldwide hit singles, Rio peaked at number 2 in the UK and remained in the chart for 110 weeks. Initially unsuccessful in the US, the album was remixed by Capitol Records to better match American radio at the time; the remixed album spent 129 weeks on the Billboard chart, reaching number 6.

Rio initially received mixed-to-negative reviews from critics, who commended the melodies but disparaged the lyrics. Retrospective reviewers consider Rio timeless and the band's best work, praising its instrumentation and band performances. With the album, Duran Duran were forerunners in the Second British Invasion of the 1980s, helping ensure the success of other English artists throughout the decade, and along with Culture Club and Spandau Ballet created a teen frenzy similar to Beatlemania during the first British Invasion of the 60s. Rio has since made appearances on best-of lists and has been reissued several times.

"The Chauffeur" was created on the spot in the studio. During downtime, Nick Rhodes retreated to an auxiliary studio room with Blauel, their tape operator, and crafted a track using keyboards, synthesisers, the sound of an ice cube cracking and a conversation about nature for extra effects. Simon Le Bon accompanied him with lyrics he'd originally written as poetry in 1978, and adding a melody on an ocarina. The final track features no contributions from the three other band members. An acoustic version (Blue Silver) was recorded without Rhodes, which appeared as a B-side to "Rio". The keyboardist later quipped, "I guess that was my punishment for have created an entirely electronic track."

"The Chauffeur" received a total of 64,6% yes votes! Previous Duran Duran polls: #21 "The Wild Boys".

[bucklway]

was adam meant to free roam the bathroom?

isn’t it so unfair that adam’s key fell down the drain? it’s like he didn’t even have a chance to escape..

but isn’t that the point?

in saw 3, john tells amanda “you didn’t test anyones will to live, instead, you took away their only chance. your games were unwinnable.” and we are shown a montage of these unwinnable games. we see her fighting eric, troy in the classroom trap, kerry in the angel trap..

and her throwing adam’s key in the bathtub..

so how is amanda giving adam his key making his game unwinnable? and why does john consider that moment unfair?

is this meant to imply that amanda wasn’t supposed to do this?

maybe adam was meant to discover this key at some point, like the box in the wall, and free himself before 6. this would make it much harder for lawrence to kill him, adam could hide, he could potentially even escape. or maybe when the game was over, john would decide wether or not adam was worthy of living, getting the key for him. those options feel much more fair then his only mode of freedom falling down the drain the second he wakes up.

let’s talk about what john says in adam’s tape and if it confirms or denies this theory,

he begins with “up until now, you’ve simply sat in the shadows, watching others live out their lives.” then he actually gives adam an objective, a way to win the game, “are you going to watch yourself die today, or do something about it?”

john seems to think that it’s possible for adam to win the game, he’s meant to take control of his life, and escape.

adam managed to stay alive until 6, but he was still left to die.. so what gives? adam learns to appreciate his life and everything, he learns that he wants to be alive “i want to live!” however, what john had told him was “are you going to watch yourself die, or do something about it?”

when you really think about it, adam didn’t do anything to earn his survival. he killed zepp, sure, but that was only after the time limit was up, and he only did it to save lawrence, the man who attempted to kill him like 5 minutes ago. john certainly didn’t view that as enough, because he left him to rot.

“do something about it” could’ve meant that he was supposed to kill lawrence, which i don’t know how he could’ve done that if he’s chained to the other side of the room..

lmk what u guys think!

[frogchiro]

Ever since MWIII came out and that scene where Soap and Ghost interrogate that woman, I had a random thought of where the woman let's it slip about Makarov's little hacker but he moves her constantly so there's no way she can be caught–

Idk, but all he had to do was lean forward to the lady and said 6 words and she FOLDED

I won't lie, this is the ask I've been waiting for. THIS is a masterpiece darling and I thank you for it, I've been daydreaming out this ever since I got your ask😭

And yes, I imagine Milena would rat Makarov's hackergirl out among other information too, albeit...more reluctantly. While she herself is in the Inner Circle and she basically controls all financial aspects of the Konni Group, she is also well aware of the Commander's...fondness of you, the girl Makarov dragged out of Zordaya Prison. Once bruised, scarred and weak, now a powerful asset who deal technology and information like Makarov deals with blood and violence.

After Soap and Ghost pressed Milena on the matter where Makarov is and what is his next target, Laswell realized that something is...not quite right, like something is missing. While the Ultranationalists were powerful already, with an army and seemingly unlimited money, they seem to always be a step ahead, always knowing something that should be impossible to sniff out behind layers and layers of redacted and confidential red tape, they had to have someone with them that would break it all down, someone strong-willed, persistent and loyal enough to do such work.

After further pressing Milena and Soap threatening her bankroll and own little imperium, it was all they needed for the woman to break and yell out a single name,

"(Y/N)! It's-Her name is (Y/N), she's a hacker that Vladimir broke out when he left Zordaya Prison...", Milena panted, her breath heavy and eyes opened wide while looking down on her hand in her lap as if she said something that should never see the light of day.

"She's...She was supposed to be his pet project, someone to do the dirty work no one knew how to do, but...He became obsessed with her, always by his side, always his sidekick along with Andrei. Vladimir is moving her constantly, never in one place for too long unless he's close."

Both Soap and Ghost looked at each other, confused since they never heard that name before but Laswell's silence was enough for them to realize that the situation may be worse than they initially thought...

[cosmicdream222]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・。.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Affirmation & Subliminal Audio Download: Self-Concept & Void Concept

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・。.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I made an affirmation/subliminal tape for myself and felt like sharing in case it helped anyone else! This is meant to completely saturate your mind so you fully believe you are the creator of your reality and already have your perfect life.

If I were to summarize it with one affirmation, it would be “I easily entered the void, and now my life is perfect.”

The affirmations all center on the three overlapping themes of: My life is perfect, I’m a master manifestor, and I enter the void easily.

Kinda had too much fun making this and included 7 layers total. There are a LOT of affs in here but they are all are fairly non-specific, blanket/umbrella self-concept that can be used by anyone, and are completely unisex.

I created my own affs, some are from my Master Manifestor vaunt, and I modified some basic ones I found on Tumblr and Pinterest. They are all safe, no negative words, no religion, no witchcraft etc lol :)

The audible affs are layered with two layers of Kottie’s & Enchanted Workshop’s Wake up in the void subliminals courtesy of @gorgeouslypink

Since I believe in honesty and transparency, I’ve listed all the details below the cut. If you just want to download and get listening, here are the Drive links:

✩Folder with all 3 versions

✩Version 1: Affirmation tape & subliminal

✩Version 2: Same as above but with echo effect for more repetition

✩Version 3: For overnight use through phone speakers. Aff volume is lowered and rain sounds from the subs are louder.

Actual pic of audio file :)

Made with love! Let me know if this helps you! 💕

Version 1: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1fKLb-mLw4aXbYrO-uIEAzEkvANNkkMA4/view?usp=drive_link

Layer 1: Master manifestor, the void is easy, self-concept affs - entirely in the left ear

Layer 2: The same affs, in a different order - entirely in the right ear

Layer 3: “Perfect life” self-concept aff tape - includes both “you” and “I”, in both ears, at a lower volume

Layer 4: The affs from layers 1 & 2 but in a different order, in both ears, at a lower volume

Layer 5: Enchanted Workshop’s Wake up in the void subliminal

Layer 6: Kottie’s Wake up in the void subliminal

Layer 7: Self-concept affs and perfect life affs (from previous layers) at the lowest subliminal volume level

Version 2: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1lujZ7M1hQu09fbJnq4ks2bOA_ss9dfzq/view?usp=drive_link

Same as Version 1, but an echo effect is added to layers 1 & 2. This makes the affs repeat multiple times, and can give you more of a trance-like effect.

Version 3: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1oVuIgj96NLNfIY0u5yzi8vAh89qSiwD_/view?usp=drive_link

Version 1 modified for overnight use through your phone speaker. Layers 1 & 2 play in both sides at a lower volume, and the volume of layers 5 & 6 is increased so the rain sounds are louder and affs are quieter.

These can be downloaded to your phone or PC and looped:

iPhone: AudioRepeater and Audio Looper are both free apps that will loop imported audio files.

Android: Several free apps will let you loop, including playing two audios at the same time (if that’s your thing) try Loop Player.

PC: The default Windows media player has a loop function.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

[aviawrites]

when we were teenagers (challengers)

pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)

a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing

in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan

March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm

The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed. 

You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head. 

The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.  

“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”

“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”

“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”

“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”

“What!?”

“Shh!”

You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”

You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”

She pauses, cocking her head.

“They’re actually gay?”

“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.” 

“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”

“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.

“They did ask for my number again.”

“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.

“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”

“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”

———

May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm

You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.

“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month. 

You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed. 

“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.” 

“Tashi…”

“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”

You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.

You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”

“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”

“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”

“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”

She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.

“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“

“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.

“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“

“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.” 

She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.

———

September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm

“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”

Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.

You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later. 

Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.

As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.

Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking. 

Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end. 

After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave. 

“I’ll see you.” He smiles.

You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”

The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises. 

“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball. 

It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.

“Ava, what the fuck!?”

She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.

She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”

“Are you serious?”

She only looks at you, confused.

“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”

“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”

“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”

“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”

“What?” You look at the ground.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”

“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”

“Whatever.”

“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”

The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.

“We good?” She asks.

“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”

Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.

“Down the line.”

———

December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”

She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.

“Thanks.”

You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”

Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”

“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.

“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.

You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.

Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.

“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.

Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.

“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today. 

You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.

“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“

“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”

Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts. 

The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.

“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”

“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.” 

“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”

“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”

———

📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm

“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.

You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“

“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”

‘He wants the same thing from me.’

You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.

“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.” 

Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”

“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”

“If I didn’t want the attention?”

“Yes.” 

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.

“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”

“What the-“

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.

“No, say what you mean.”

“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"

The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.

“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”

“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”

“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation." 

You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."

———

2:45pm

You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop. 

“Patrick?”

He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.

“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.

You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”

Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.

“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.

“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”

“Seriously?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”

“Shit, Art too?”

“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”

“Oh god, did I break free?”

“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.

“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”

“Right.”

“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.

“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”

“…And?”

“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”

“Oh my-“

You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.

“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.

“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.

———

3:05pm

The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister. 

You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.

“Tashi…” He walks in. 

You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.

“No, out.” Your sister points.

“I’m sorry-“

“Get out!”

“Tashi, listen to me-“

“No, get out!”

“Please-“

“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.

Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi. 

He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway. 

Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.

“Tash, what happened-“

“You too.”

You stop, tilting your head. “What?”

“I don’t want you here, leave.”

“Wh- Are you serious?”

“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.

You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”

You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard. 

Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now. 

Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.

———

10:03pm

“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.” 

The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV. 

You bury your head in your hands, groaning.

“Fuck.” 

“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”

“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”

“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.

“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”

“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”

The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.

The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.

“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”

“Oh, God.”

You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”

“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”

“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”

He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…” 

“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”

His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.

“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“

Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.

“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”

“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”

“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”

“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”

You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.

And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.

———

February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am

5 years later

At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it. 

You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win. 

Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.

“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him. 

You chuckle, “Good morning.”

You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”

“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”

“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”

You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.

“What about this one?” He points.

“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.

“They’re going to be there?” 

He nods.

“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?” 

“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.” 

You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.

“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.

A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.

“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

——

February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm

Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.

You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you. 

“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”

Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.

“No…Why?”

His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her. 

He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.

As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.

——

June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm

2 Years Later

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’

The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.

A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.

“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.

“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.

“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”

The camera flips from the baby to your mother.

“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”

“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”

Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.

“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background. 

Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.

“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“

“Wait, Ava-“

“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.

You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.

“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”

“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”

———

May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am

6 Years later

Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else. 

“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.

“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your

thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”

“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”

You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.

“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”

Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.

“…And do what?”

He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”

…

1:00pm

Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.

Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.

“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.

She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.

It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”

You shake your head, “Tashi-“

"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."

"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"

"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"

"No, I'm really not."

"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.

“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

“Get off.”

"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”

“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"

"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."

She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”

“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."

"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"

"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."

Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.

"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"

Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.

"Fuck you." You spit.

"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."

Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.

“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.

“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”

…

3:00pm

You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.

“I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”

“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”

“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”

——

May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm

“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”

“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.” 

You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.

“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”

“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.

“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.

“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”

“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”

“Patrick, wait-“

“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.

…

12:30am

You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.

Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you. 

Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip. 

Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too. 

———

May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm

Final Day

The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.

“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.

Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”

"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."

She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."

"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."

"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."

"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."

She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."

“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”

“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.

“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”

Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.

Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.

You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up. 

“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”

You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.

It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you. 

Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.

———

May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm

9 Days Later

Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it. 

Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.

“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”

“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.

He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.

“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth. 

Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.

“Hey.” You turn around.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ava, I’m sorry-“

“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”

“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“

“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”

“Baby, no. Please.”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”

He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“

“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”

“It was a mistake-“

“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”

“Just hear me out-“

“Get out of the house, Patrick.” 

“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”

Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.

“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“

“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“

“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least  he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”

“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”

“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long, long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”

“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please just think about it.”

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”

Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.

“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.

He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.

“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.” 

[diamond-flavored-whump]

Best ways to restrain your Whumpees (a subjective scale)

Tied to a chair: 7/10. Classic, gets the job done. Rub their skin raw while you're at it.

Cuffed to the chair: 9/10. The more cuffs the better. Sure, cuff each wrist to an arm chair. But what if you also cuffed their wrists together with just enough slack so their circulation doesn't cut off? ... what if you didn't give them enough slack? What about their legs?

Chained to the chair: 4/10. Oppressive weight is nice and all, but unless you know what you're doing, these are easy to slide off and best used alongside other methods.

Strapped to the chair: 6/10. Better suited for impersonal settings.

Duct taped to the chair: 7/10. Potential 9/10 if you rip the tape off every time you move them. Do you do it hard and fast, listen to their sudden scream? Or do you do it slowly, savor each pitiful little whimper?

(Surgery required) Put magnets in their wrists: 9/10. Make them try to lift their arms, only to feel like their skin is ripping from the inside. Make sure they know you put the magnets in there. Nothing that will make them sick, you reassure. Just making sure they can't go anywhere without you un-magnetizing the arm rests.

Chained to the wall: 7/10. How much room do they have? Is it only one wrist, both on the same chain? Each one on opposite sides of the room? What about ankles? Do their steps rattle? Can they toss and turn in bed without making any noise?

Chained/cuffed to the floor: 10/10. Absolute humiliation. Forced to kneel, bow their head, cower like a dog before you. Their restraints holding them down every time they try to rise against you, reminding them of their place.

Ankles chained to a pole: 6/10. Oh sure, you can run. You just can't go very far. An interesting idea, but overall mediocre.

Leash wrapped around a pole: 8/10. Leave your pet unable to wander too far, perhaps keep their food bowl just out of reach. Make them dependent on you for bathroom breaks, food, and water.

Tied to a beam/pole: 8/10. How big is the pole? Are they tied so tight that all they can do is squeeze their shoulder blades together, and every time they try to relax the ropes tug them back? Is it large enough that their entire arms can wrap around it? A little too big for that? Did you tie up their feet as well?

Tied horizontally to a beam/pole: 9/10. So many ways this could go! Arms and legs above them like they're a pig on a spit, or one of those rotisserie chickens in the grocery store. Arms below, facing up, like they're laying in bed. Forced to look down at how high up they are, unable to do anything to get down.

Dangling by their wrists: 8/10. Once again, a classic choice. Rope or cuffs work here.

Dangling by their hair: 2/10. Not a long-term solution, hair will be pulled out. Only works with certain Whumpees. Only suited for short-term punishments.

Dangling by their neck: 7/10 if done right. Once again, a temporary solution best used to scare and threaten your Whumpee. I cannot overstate that you must be careful with this method if you like to reuse Whumpees. Remember to let your Whumpee down once they pass out!!

Dangling by their leash and collar: 6/10. Same concerns as above.

Dangling by their waist: 4/10. Has some potential, but have not seen it used much if at all.

Dangling by their ankles/feet: 5/10. A good way to disorient and weaken your Whumpee, but must be used in moderation. Excessive blood rush to the head can cause permanent damage and makes your Whumpee less fun to play with.

Standing in water: 4/10. A good short-term punishment, but can cause loss of toes and even feet of water gets too cold. Proceed with caution.

Gags: 9/10! Good for defiant Whumpees, Whumpees in transport, ones who can't learn the lesson not to speak. Just remember to take it off when you want to hear their screams.

Small rooms, holes in the ground, boxes: 8/10. Less about restraint, more containment, but still gets the point across. They cannot escape you, no matter how much they wish to.

I reiterate, leashes: 10/10. Hold their leash at all times, and you'll know when they try to run away.