#and suddenly you start to think “maybe capitalism isn't so bad after all.”

[yeyinde]

old shane would want us to pirate watcher content

oh, yeah. without any hesitation, either. he'd tell us to rob new Shane and leave his body for the dogs.

[rzvera]

the next world mural can be interpreted in different ways, and the nihilist interpretation, i think, is interesting and worth examining. however, i also want to bring (or maybe bring back?) another perspective on it, more hopeful and, well, communist.

so let's start from the game's text, and see what Harry has to say about the mural:

1. You: All that remains is to wreak havoc on the middle class. ReputationGrows("communist")

2. You: The middle class are not to be blamed. It's *human nature*. ReputationGrows("ultraliberal")

3. You: I like it, but can't we wreak havoc on *other nations* instead? ReputationGrows("revacholian_nationhood")

4. You: I must have voted (and possibly even lobbied) to remove the thing because I don't believe in that rubbish one bit. ReputationGrows("moralist")

and yes, Harry is definitely not a communist the game encourages you to be, but some of his communist replies are not just for a laugh. and i think that this one is pretty serious, too.

this is the answer to the ultraliberal and fascist options:

Did anyone ask what you believe in, man with the smelly toilet ledger? What do you want to tackle next? Or are we done?

with the answer to the moralist option not being very different:

No one cares what you believe in, man with the smelly toilet ledger. What do you want to tackle next? Or are we done?

but this is how the game handles the communist option:

In any case, it appears to have been a rare case of civil activity in the Quarter. And agreement as well. What do you want to tackle next?

much less irritated, isn't it? the game is not making fun only of the communist option here, and the communist option is agreeing with the message of the mural. it is also noted that keeping the mural was some sort of a communal action and people agreed on its message -- and this agreement is mentioned right after harry speaks in support of wreaking havoc on the middle class! "wreak havoc on the middle class" comes right after the message that expresses the dissatisfaction with the current world in contrast to the next world and, therefore, implied to be the way to achive the next world. so, people are not only agreeing on the impossibility of love, they agree that it can be possible, and to make it possible, a war on another class should be started.

and this is where comes the hopefulness! you see, the most hopeless version is the ultraliberal one -- blaming the impossibility of love on the human nature. saying that something is "in the nature" is basically saying that it cannot be changed. capitalist ideology loves to justify the capitalist order by proclaiming that, due to corrupted nature of humans, there's no working alternative to capitalism. you see, humans are competitive by nature, and they also won't work without financial stimul (which is not being able to make your needs meet without subjecting yourself to exploitation) due to their nature and so on. there, we see, the ultraliberal option is blaming lovelessness on the human nature too.

moralist option is disagreeing completely with the message of the mural, but this is also important for understanding the game's take on it as moralist options are usually about not having an opinion, or taking a middle ground. but here, suddenly, a very strong opinion comes! because now, at the age of moralism, everything is good! and love is possible too, because this is the best version of the world we are living in, how can it not be possible? and also, any changes to the social order are bad and should never happen.

the mural itself, i think, is hopeful. and it's important for its hopefulness that it doesn't ignore the failures of the world as it is. right now, in the current world, true love is not possible, but in the next world it will be. and, what is more important -- there is a way to fight for that world to come.

i think the fascist option here is very interesting too, and it actually opens a path to nihilist interpretation of the mural. fascist Harry does not reject the message of the mural wholly, as moralist Harry does, he expresses his approval, he likes it. he even thinks, unlike ultraliberal Harry, that things can be changed. but can we, maybe, wreak havoc on the other nations instead of the middle class?

this is what the innocence of nihilism does. he, too, states that the world is to be changed, and changes it trough wreaking havoc, but -- and i think this is crucial -- he wreaks havoc on other nations.

fascists often claim that the current movements for queer or women rights are damaging for the holy love between a "normal man" and a "normal woman". and their understanding of true love includes the traditional fantasy version of heterosexual family, with the husband-provider and the housewife, and magically the income of the husband is enough for a family of, at least, four people: father, mother and two or more kids, and maybe grandparents too. and this is actually possible for the middle class in the imperialist countries, all thanks to exploiting other nations while "wreaking havoc" on them.

i think this is where fascist Harry's (and nihilist too) agreement on impossibility of true love in the current world comes from, as well as disagreement on means to make it possible, as well as the image of what true love even looks like. he agrees that something is wrong now, but his understanding of what exactly is wrong and how to change that is very different from the communist understanding.

why, though, am i saying that it's communist to assume that true love is not possible, and why is the middle class to blame? now, i think, it is reasonable to turn to communist theorists' works. here's what Engels writes in The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State (emphasis mine):

Sex-love in the relationship with a woman becomes, and can only become, the real rule among the oppressed classes, which means today among the proletariat -- whether this relation is officially sanctioned or not. But here all the foundations of typical monogamy are cleared away. Here there is no property, for the preservation and inheritance of which monogamy and male supremacy were established; hence there is no incentive to make this male supremacy effective.

...

In the countries where an obligatory share of the paternal inheritance is secured to the children by law and they cannot therefore be disinherited – in Germany, in the countries with French law and elsewhere – the children are obliged to obtain their parents’ consent to their marriage. In the countries with English law, where parental consent to a marriage is not legally required, the parents on their side have full freedom in the testamentary disposal of their property and can disinherit their children at their pleasure. It is obvious that, in spite and precisely because of this fact, freedom of marriage among the classes with something to inherit is in reality not a whit greater in England and America than it is in France and Germany.

...

But by transforming by far the greater portion, at any rate, of permanent, heritable wealth – the means of production – into social property, the coming social revolution will reduce to a minimum all this anxiety about bequeathing and inheriting. Having arisen from economic causes, will monogamy then disappear when these causes disappear?

One might answer, not without reason: far from disappearing, it will, on the contrary, be realized completely. For with the transformation of the means of production into social property there will disappear also wage-labor, the proletariat, and therefore the necessity for a certain – statistically calculable – number of women to surrender themselves for money.

...

Here a new element comes into play, an element which, at the time when monogamy was developing, existed at most in germ: individual sex-love.

...

Our sexual love differs essentially from the simple sexual desire, the Eros, of the ancients. In the first place, it assumes that the person loved returns the love; to this extent the woman is on an equal footing with the man, whereas in the Eros of antiquity she was often not even asked. Secondly, our sexual love has a degree of intensity and duration which makes both lovers feel that non-possession and separation are a great, if not the greatest, calamity; to possess one another, they risk high stakes, even life itself. In the ancient world this happened only, if at all, in adultery. And, finally, there arises a new moral standard in the judgment of a sexual relationship. We do not only ask, was it within or outside marriage? But also, did it spring from love and reciprocated love or not? Of course, this new standard has fared no better in feudal or bourgeois practice than all the other standards of morality – it is ignored. But neither does it fare any worse. It is recognized just as much as they are – in theory, on paper. And for the present it cannot ask anything more.

the sentiment of impossibility of true love in the current -- capitalist -- world is the part of the communist theory, as well as the possibility of true love in the next world. for the working class, the class which doesn't own anything, and the new class that appeared with the development of the capitalism, as well as the class that is going to be the driving force of the communist revolution, true love is becoming possible. and it will be possible after the communist revolution, in the next world, for the new people, when the classes will no longer exist and anxieties about property will disappear completely. "arranged love" will be left in the past, as there will be no property to arrange it for.

the middle class -- whether that term is used to mean petty bourgeoisie or people with middle/higher income -- definitely is the class with something to inherit. and this is why it might seem appealing to be a part of the middle class, to own something, to own more, and this appeal is also promoted by the capitalist ideology -- if you work really hard, if you integrate in the system, you can own something, a house and a car, and you can make it seem like the poverty is not likely to happen to you, you can become middle class. the existence of middle class justifies capitalism by creating an illusion that it is possible for anyone, who works hard enough (i.e. deserves it), to thrive under capitalism.

but for the middle class, true love is not possible. their morality denies true love and only recognizes marriage which is arranged by property-owning parents. moreover, middle class, due to its relatively good position in the capitalist system, and in hopes of taking an even better position (i.e. becoming a part of the ruling class), is more likely to aling itself with the bourgeoisie, so middle class people are more likely to be reactionaries, and oppose any significant changes to the social order.

not to mention that due to its reactionary leanings as well as due to profiting from opression of marginalised working class people, middle class is likely to have opressive views: on women, on queer people, on people of colour. and speaking of this, it is also worth paying attention to that, in Elysium, and particularly in Revachol, it was the communist party to legalize homosexuality, thus taking another step towards a world where true love is possible.

THE DESERTER – "Lax sexual morals are a bourgeois ploy," he gargles a spit ball. "As to pederasty, the Party legalized it in '04. My Party, not your liberal masters." He spits it out on the dying coals.

so, i think, "wreaking havoc on the middle class" is, broadly, about disturbing capitalist social order. it is about rejecting capitalist ideology, and capitalist morality, and capitalist system instead of trying to integrate into it. it is a reminder that the alternative to capitalism is possible, and the middle class way is not the only way to build your life and for society to exist.

as to the words "it's too late for us", i think, they definitely can be understood as "well, there's no use in doing something meaningful since we are in the current world, we're doomed anyway so who cares", and this is where nihilist interpretation seems way more fitting. but, as i said earlier, the fascist and St Miro's nihilism comes to the conclusion that other nations should suffer for us being hopeless, while communists turn their dissatisfaction to the class that is making true love impossible.

so, "too late for us" can express sadness of the communists who will try to build a better world, but may not live to see it. the new people may be understood as those who will grow and live in the next world and won't be subjected to capitalism and it's ideological influence that makes true love impossible for us.

moreover, the mural should not be interpreted independently of the other events in the game. Harry's past love, which, at least partly, was doomed because Harry was poor and Dora was middle class, should be taken into account. their love wanished as Dora faced the consequences of being with a "poverty-stricken" man. their love was made impossible by the difference in their class position even without Dora's parents preventing them from being together. and in the world where love depends on your class position, is true love possible at all?

and now let's come back to communist Harry's response to the message of the mural. as it starts with "all that remains", it may be interpreted as rather gloomy. however, this is coming from a man with a hole in his heart; of course he is even less hopeful for the possibility of true love. but his words may be understood in a more hopeful way too: all is left for us is to fight. Harry is not a part of the middle class, and, what is more important, he will never be a part of it. he doesn't have an option of becoming middle class, integrating into system doesn't get him a possibility of a better life. and he also doesn't have an option of getting Dora back, because their love is impossible in this world.

Harry tried to integrate into the capitalism by becoming a cop in hopes of making their love with Dora possible. and it didn't work! for him there's no use in trying to win the unfair and loveless system, the only thing he can do is to wreak havoc on it. the only thing he can do is to fight against it, so the next world, the world free of exploitation, the world where true love is possible will come.

[happyk44]

Modern AU Percicobeth where it's V-shaped connected to Percy and Nico and Annabeth don't really have much of a relationship going on between them, friendship or otherwise, because they don't really overlap. Percy and Annabeth are childhood sweethearts who met at the same boarding school, and Nico started dating Percy after meeting him at the stables his sister practices at.

Annabeth flies into NYC after finishing up her university exams. She's got about a month before her internship starts, but she managed to talk her dad into letting her leave early and is crashing at Percy's place in the meantime. On impulse, halfway through studying for an English class she tried to argue her way out of taking, she chopped off her hair so it's rough and short and she slightly dreads the decision, but the upside is she did manage to hook up with the pretty girl down the hall of her dorm because of it so it's not entirely bad.

Grover drags them both out to a college party, where Percy disappears thirty minutes through to "find some fucking water, why is everyone so obsessed with beer" and Grover, on two cups of spiked punch, starts challenging everyone who comes close to a dance-off. Drunk Grover is a lot more wild than sober Grover but between Juniper and Annabeth, they manage to keep him from doing anything too stupid.

Nico shows up a couple hours in. His hair has grown out longer than Annabeth's seen in pictures before and with the buzz of alcohol and a hit of weed in her system, she doesn't really recognize him, but she thinks he's hot. She also mistakes him for a shy goth lesbian, but that's neither here nor there.

Percy's in the middle of a karaoke battle that he is 100% failing and doesn't notice Nico yet, but Annabeth keeps a focused look on the cute girl staring and smiling at her boyfriend making a fool of himself and thinks blearily that she's gonna land this girl before Percy can. And then maybe they can have a weird threesome in the back of Percy's car later.

They get like five minutes of casual conversation before Annabeth just starts kissing her and she's definitely kissing back and smugly she thinks to herself that maybe they don't need a threesome, maybe Percy can just sit back and watch while she blows this girl's mind. Serves him right for ditching her in search of water, of all things.

Then Percy's solo finishes and Annabeth is getting ready to grab his car keys to carry on the fun when he blurts out, "Oh! Nico! You're here!"

Briefly Annabeth thinks Nico isn't a nickname she's heard for Nicole before, and then suddenly it clicks, and she blinking as she connects random cute goth lesbian to Percy's short twink boyfriend.

Percy swings an arm over Annabeth's shoulder and kisses her cheek. "I was gonna introduce you guys myself, but I guess I didn't need to!"

Nico's brows furrow and Annabeth blearily realizes she never actually introduced herself. She just started talking, and then, very quickly, kissing. She's always been on the buffer side, exercise helps her focus and she hates cardio, and very quickly she's realizing that in the dim lighting and her suddenly short hair Nico thought she was a guy.

It's kinda funny.

Annabeth is definitely bi, but last she heard about Nico is that he was gay with a capital G. But as Percy is rambling something about how they should all get lunch together the next day, Annabeth is wondering just how firm that title is because Nico is still staring at her with the same warmth in his eyes that he had right before she attacked his mouth and, like, fuck it. Sexuality is fluid, right?

They end up fucking a couple hours later in the backseat of Percy's car while Percy is given no choice but to watch (which his cuck ass doesn't mind in the slightest). Annabeth accidentally slips between saying "good boy" and "pretty girl" but judging from Nico's breathy whines, he doesn't entirely mind.

Annabeth certainly doesn't mind when Nico introduces her to his family as his really handsome girlfriend a couple months later. In fact, she kinda likes it. Partly because Percy asks if that makes him Nico's handsome boyfriend ans Nico says no with his entire chest in a way that causes Percy to splutter in a huff. And partly because handsome is descriptor she's never heard for herself before and she really likes the sound of it.

That's their relationship. Handsome girl. Pretty boy. And whatever the fuck Percy is.

[norgbelulah]

This excerpt is not regulation length I’m so sorry

He’s thin, thinner than Raylan remembers him at nineteen. His skin is tanned and weathered, his clothes threadbare. His shirt is a ragged tee, once black, but now gray, sleeves torn off. It hangs on him, stretched at the neck and baggy at the bottom. His jeans are less worn, less baggy, but they are cuffed at the ankles and he’s wearing no shoes. The soles of his feet are black, like Ava’s were before.

His eyes are a muddy green, though Raylan remembers clearly they were once brown. They are twinkling, like he knows something good, and his grin is wide.

“Raylan Givens,” he says with the reverence of an oath, or a prayer, and the tired mirth of an old joke. “You’re come.” He pulls his arms up over his head to caress the stone at his back and he twists suddenly, pressing his ear up against it. He smiles and huffs a laugh, like it’s told him a secret, then looks back at Raylan and says, in a half-sing-song tone, “Prodigal son, your mo-ther wants to see-e you-u. She’s calling, Raylan, call-ing, call-ing.”

The thing, the stopper in Raylan’s chest loosens again, and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s looking at the wreckage of a man he once knew, or if it’s... something else. He takes a slow step forward and raises his hands, though he’s certain Boyd doesn’t see him as a threat.

“Boyd,” he says quietly, slowly. “My mother is dead. She died fifteen years ago.”

Boyd smiles at him, curling his legs underneath himself, still clinging to that gravestone. “Isn’t. Didn’t,” he replies. “Frances is in the ground, son, and we’re sore for it, but She,” and he says the word with a capital “s,” “She is everywhere and she wants you to come see her, Raylan. You are come home, home for good and all--she told me so--and can you see the colors, Raylan?” His face has taken on a wondrous cast and he’s speaking almost too quickly to follow, “She shows them to me sometimes and they’re so bright you can’t see for them and the leaves in the trees and every blade of grass--”

He breaks off when he looks down at Raylan’s feet. He scrambles forward, on hands and knees to him, and says in almost agonized confusion, “But how can you feel her with those? You need the earth, Raylan--can’t you hear her calling you?”

I honestly don't remember if I wrote this first and then figured out what the hell was going on after, or if I had an idea of what had happened to Boyd and then wrote this. It definitely sets a tone and a pitch that I think I back off from almost immediately in the rest of the fic because it wouldn't have been sustainable. This is Boyd at his most unhinged because, now that Raylan is back, he can start to come back to himself. Even though neither of them realize it, Boyd's journey to healing starts happening almost immediately after this scene.

I definitely wrote this because I have always been fascinated by the idea of a person being touched by the fairies. I think this goes back to when I read The Perilous Guard by Elizabeth Marie Pope as a kid. There's a character who isn't all there because he hangs out with the fairies--or maybe he hangs out with them so much because he isn't all there? So, I love this idea of a human being so overwhelmed by whatever a fairy is or can do that they start to be unable to function either in or out of the fairy realm. It's just baller, honestly.

So this fascination eventually led me to write this whole fucking novel about very metaphorical mental illness and queerness and people's perceptions and how love can be transformative in both good and bad ways, how you can end up someone you never thought you would be before you realized you were even making a choice that would lead you there and how that same love that was once destructive can lead you back home...

[hhjs]

love or lack thereof.

pairing  — felix x reader

genre / trope  — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k 

warnings  — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences. 

note  — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him. 

 “I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know. 

“Did he make you laugh?” 

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say, 

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually. 

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.”  You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

[bored-storyteller]

Dear Anon, sorry if I can't do the screen of your request :3 anyway I hope you like it

Warning: mention of violence and blood (nothing too bloody I think)

45- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

“Natural”

That's your favorite time of the day. When you sit at the table in the hot cafeteria, with the steam of the sweet boiling drink in your nostrils, the warmth of the discreetly attended but not too noisy environment and your faithful sketchbook open on the polished wooden shelf. The first blank page available looks at you, waiting to become your world, your dreams.

You are particularly lucky today; he is there.

When you entered he was already sitting at the bar, sipping a black coffee. He doesn't come every day, nor does he always arrive at the same time, but when you find him you know he will stay a long time.

You don't know his name - or at least you shouldn't know, it's not nice to overhear conversations - you don't know who he is, you just know that the first time something entered him it made you hold your breath. You don't even know what has caused you so much upset at a simple glance; it's not his extravagant style, it's not his piercings or his intricate tattoos. They are not even his strange and sometimes scary eyes. They are not those caressing, sweet and persuasive ways with which he seems to behave as usual, and not even the calm ironic words he occasionally addresses to the one who serves behind the counter. No, it's none of this, or maybe it's all this, but you don't know it, you can't understand it.

Today he smiled at you. The place wasn't too crowded, and his look had turned to you at the chirping of the bell. How bizarre as a face that threatens so much aggression it is capable of such delicacy.

You wonder if he knows how much your eyes touch him every time you meet him. Maybe yes, but he doesn't really care.

His decorated fingers are absent-mindedly tucked into the handle of the cup, his hair today is gathered in a rather messy half-ponytail. You don't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't pay much attention to it.

For a second you get lost following his profile line. His lips are slightly parted, he is listening.

You choose to seize the moment, and your freshly sharpened pencil glides over the slightly textured paper, sketching indefinite sketches. You have plenty of time to improve them.

You don't really remember since you started drawing Uta - as the man in the coffee shop calls him, and for you he is the only reference you can rely on - only, suddenly the block that had taken possession of your artistic skills was suddenly loose. Whoever that man was, you wanted to draw him.

From there, his face started to appear more and more often in your drawings, and from there he started to inspire you, he started to make you imagine.

"Beautiful, he is really beautiful." You thought immediately, and at the beginning it was nothing more. Then, slowly, over time that "beautiful" had extended beyond his physical boundary, also touching his attitude, his voice, his expressions.

You never really talked to him - out of shyness, or maybe not to break that magic - but it's not important. That's okay, you've started to get attached to him, you've begun to hope that he can be okay, that he can be happy, and it doesn't matter who he is or who he isn't. His mere presence has given you so much.

Today it is a coincidence that you and he get up at the same time from your respective seats. He surely didn't notice, and neither did you, as you put your sketchbook back in your bag.

It is not rush hour, and even if you are far away you can see him well. He is so calm, while he keeps his balance clinging effortlessly to the steel tube. His eyes look beyond the glass, although there is little to see. But maybe they see much more? You wonder what he is thinking, what can a person like him think? Who knows how he lives, you wouldn't even know how to attribute a precise age to him.

He is quicker than you to get out, and you are still settling your bill. It's not like you want to chase him, you're not a stalker or a maniac, but he's right in front of you. It is a coincidence. It is also a coincidence when he takes the subway with you.

Your stop passes by, and this time it is no coincidence.

Shinjuku is his station, apparently. Yes, it suits him, it's a suitable environment for him, at least you think. The frenetic lights and noises make the neighborhood alive even in the evening dusk. It is not a bad place to pass the time, it is full of attractions, activities and culture.

You feel a bit dirty following him like this, but it's not something you can really command. You just want to know who he is, your muse. You would like to be close to him, you would like to ask him questions, but at the same time you are afraid. You are afraid of seeing him disappear, scared of you. Who will fill your blank pages if he leaves? But how come you could justify your behavior towards him? Would he ever understand the beauty he represents for your artist eyes?

When he disappears among the people it's not that big of a problem. You don't want to interfere in his business, after all you just wanted to have him close a little longer, at least close to your eyes.

But even if you didn't see him anymore, you didn't regret having extended your trip a little. Tokyo could inspire an artist more than people thought, and your sketchbook is back in your hands, to sketch what came to you - and from time to time to look back at that face that is taking shape more and more. below the details you have come to know by now.

There, in that district of the capital, if you take enough alleys and go down enough steps, you can reach hidden areas away from the eyes of tourists. Sure, they might seem insignificant and at times creepy, but for someone like you the small traditional shop on the corner, or the writing on the wall that would be poorly tolerated in the city center, has such a particular charm, so intense that it makes you imagine stories, and eyes that never existed.

And it is while the graphite of your pencil draws more or less regular shadows on a creature that looks so much like that tabby cat looking for food in the alley, that something makes your blood run cold.

A cry, a cry of terror. It was sharp, scratchy, but immediately suffocated, or rather, broken.

And it is then that looking up to the sky you see the night. It is not the case for someone like you to be in those areas with darkness that has fallen.

And that's why you don't bother thinking about that scream, you just think about going back through those alleys, and as quickly as possible.

But for you the world is bigger than for any human being, and your feet stop, your breath freezes in your chest.

There is no light, you are alone, but taking refuge behind the wall like a mouse, your eyes too used to observing see it immediately.

Him. It's him. Him, and his eyes light up hot. In the light glow of the moon and the flickering artificial lights you can see blood-colored veins that like roots mark his nocturnal sclera up to affect the pale skin.

His arms always dyed with black weaves are now covered in red, as are his hungry lips, his face up to his nose.

You know perfectly well what is happening, you know that that mass of flesh at his feet is a man he has just killed, to devour him.

You know what he is, and it scares you. How could it not? Yet it is precisely that fear that inspires you, that makes you take the figure of him in the dim light. As many details as possible are frantically marked on the paper, everything you need to remember.

"Beautiful" is everything your confused and terrified mind can think as you start running unaware of the fact that he saw you - or rather, he smelled you -, but luckily for you too late. . . .

"I don't know anything about it."

You don't know if actually the case those investigators are investigating is actually the killing - or the post-killing - you witnessed, but it doesn't really matter. Your words come out with such an ease that you are amazed too.

You wonder which god is angry with you for letting you cross their path and their eyes, is it your punishment for asking for help?

Maybe wandering around the back streets of Shinjuku makes you suspicious? Probably. But it doesn't matter, you really don't know anything. You are ready to forget everything in order to protect him. You can not miss it. He is your subject, your art.

You hold your sketchbook to your chest, protective.

"I didn't know there were ghouls in the area… is it really that dangerous?" It's not that you like to lie, but the more you can mislead those people, the more you can avoid danger to him, so don't blame yourself. It's the right thing, it's right that he has the chance to live.

"We don't have precise information, but it would be better not to wander alone in such isolated places, especially if the day is ending."

Looking up at the sky you realize that the sky is slowly turning on the evening colors. Who knows what you really expected. Were you seriously hoping to find him? Maybe Shinjuku was just a stop for him that day. Or maybe you are the cause why you don't come across him anymore, not even at the cafeteria.

“Now that I know, I'll try to be careful. I'll finish quickly and go home right away. "

The man in front of you smiles, his eyes scan the surroundings come to make sure you are safe: "Well, if you see something strange, even a suspicious trace, please contact us."

You agree. He gives you the impression of a good-hearted man, that agent, and you silently thank him as he and his companions walk away from you.

The world is cruel. It is cruel, but you don't even know in what respect, because it can be so cruel and so generous at the same time. So kind and so unfair.

And while in solitude your free mind wanders among those thoughts, something makes you quickly return to the ground, rushes you, crushes you.

A stabbing pain takes you to the right side of your body, like a burning fire throbs and quivers in your torn muscles, starting from the hollow between the neck and shoulder.

You would scream, but you are prevented, because a cold hand presses on your lips forcefully.

You don't really think about what's happening, you don't have time to think. All you can do is wriggle desperately, even though the strength holding you back is far superior to yours.

That pain repeats itself, more overwhelming on the open wound, and this time you can at least turn around in the arms of torture. And everything stops.

His beautiful face, the face you searched for so intensely is there, a few inches from yours. His eyes look at you, they scan you. His tongue licks your blood and his arms tighten you against him to keep you from running away.

Have you ever had him so close? Do not you think. You don't think he has ever looked at you as directly as he is doing right now.

But you don't have time, you have no way of thinking. The blood slips away, your eyesight darkens and your body loses sensitivity with every passing second.

The world is so kind to grant you that closeness, and so cruel to give you so little time to enjoy what you have so desired.

"Beautiful ..." You manage to murmur, and maybe that's really all you want to tell him. Your hand rests cold and delicate on his face, touching his pale cheek. His night-colored tuft lightly tickles your numb knuckles, and his confused gaze is the last thing you see. . . .

How long hadn't anyone caressed him like that? Had anyone ever caressed him like that?

Uta hadn't really looked for you, even though he recognized you, for some reason he just avoided meeting you again. It was the riskiest choice for him, yet he had subconsciously decided to give you that chance, to the little artist in the coffee shop.

But you were there, so close to him, in his domain. He had smelled you, so what could he do?

Yet you weren't behaving like everyone else. He didn't believe he could see such warmth in human eyes, ready to give in to forced sleep, and the bite had been held back. He still feels the sweetness and tenderness of your flesh running down his throat, but he has held back from giving you the coup de grace. A sign of respect for an artist like him? Or just too risky curiosity?

And your hand moved away from him too soon, slumping along his arm with a dead weight.

From your chest your black-covered notebook slips to the ground, you had held it tight all the time despite your injured shoulder.

His pupils scrutinize the object with distrust and curiosity. Probably he should kill you before he feels free to browse, yet now he is there, bent over. His long moon fingers and night-colored interlacing turn the pages with a light and quick gesture.

There are drawings of animals, people, objects. You're good, really good, he likes your style.

But that is not all. He could have foreseen it, he could have suspected since your eyes touched him so much, yet it was as if in his vision this was impossible. Despite this impossibility, one's face looks at him, and turning the page it is still there, only from another point of view. There are drawings of him in every perspective, with expressions that not even he realizes he has - probably no one has ever noticed -; some portraits are detailed, some are colored, some are just sketches that, despite everything, reflect him, while still others are started and never finished, deleted and thrown away as errors.

He is really beautiful.

You even wrote it down. You have written a lot, you have taken note of the details of him.

Uta doesn't know how he actually feels. How is he feeling? He feels a shyness on him that is not his own. Is it embarrassment? Maybe, in part. In part it's confusion, and in part ... how long hasn't someone considered him with the tenderness with which you did? You had watched him from afar for so long, and so intensely.

He obviously understood your interest, every time he greeted you cordially it was a confirmation, but he didn't think there was such a stupid sincerity in your feelings.

As he continues to turn the cream-colored pages, he notices that some pages are torn. He doesn't really give weight to them, he also does it when a work of his does not satisfy him, despite your mistakes being present several times in the notebook.

The last page is still him, he is smiling. He wonders if he really smiles like that. He looks really handsome, and he doesn't know if he's real or your eyes have affected that image to make his face so kind and serene.

A soft sigh blows between his lips as he closes your treasure. Yet, before he can complete the action, something blocks him.

On the bottom, on the hard cover, the internal part reproduces the black of the external facade. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything strange if his eye wasn't used to being attentive.

Sticking his fingers into the crack under that black, he manages to retrieve a slightly protruding sheet, one of the sheets you tore.

On paper, the dark traces form his figure again, but this time something is different. He is different.

He is a ghoul in that drawing. He is bent over his victim, his placid face stained with blood, like his arms. He is imposing above the figure you have represented in the shadow.

Yet despite this, he is not ugly or cruel. You made it beautiful anyway, natural. Yes, you simply grasped his nature, you grasped the beauty in his nature and brought it back to paper, as a work of art.

It's not finished yet, his critical eye saw it well. Maybe that's why you hid it? Why were you dying to complete it during your days, to always have it with you, but were you afraid it would be discovered? Did you tear up so many pages for this? To deprive prying eyes of discovering his nature through your drawings?

Honestly, were you really protecting him, in your own way?

He had distractedly heard you talking to the Doves, and hadn't given it any weight - always because it was impossible, in his eyes - but now, in front of himself so sweetly admired by your shy eyes, he can't help admitting that something it moves in his stomach, like agitated butterflies.

Perhaps it is the interest in having been made a work of art by such skilled hands, or a sense of esteem that overwhelms him when he realizes that he is in front of a skilled artist, or perhaps, deep down, it is a simple motion of affection he can't help but feel for amazing human beings like you. Even while he was killing you, you didn't speak out against him. You are stranger than Tsugumi.

Uta may be crazy, but he is not insensitive, on the contrary, it is his sensitivity that makes him so uncomfortable in the world.

He feels you tremble and suddenly remembers he has you in his arms. He hadn't noticed that he had kept you with such care; your lifeless head, resting on his chest, rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Look at your suffering face, in his lap you are getting colder and colder and the nectarine blood continues to dirty both your clothes and his.

You can die, but the wounds he inflicted on you are not fatal in themselves - luckily -.

Will you forgive him for tasting your body? Probably yes. He doesn't know you, but he has already understood you, and now he wants to understand more. . . .

The warmth envelops you, all you perceive is a warm and placid relief.

Your clouded mind only asks you one question: "Are you dead?"

You don't really know why you should be, you just know that there is that possibility. Yet, slowly, a physicality settles on you, making you return to earth, away from the world of ideas.

Your fingers barely move and your sensitivity feels warmth and softness. The shoulder burns.

Your eyelids vibrate before venturing to lift again wondering if you really are living.

The light is dim, the environment is unfamiliar to you and yet you perceive something you know, even if you don't really know what it is. A sensation? A smell?

"Hey…"

A gentle, light, friendly voice. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical of him, but what does it matter to you? You're probably dreaming, he really killed you and that's your hell. It's not that bad if you can spend your pains admiring him.

His blood-colored and strawberry-colored eyes scan you attentively, there is no threat in his features, only a barely hinted smile, a smile that you adore, and a greeting from him that for some reason makes your rhythm pick up again your heart: "Good morning."

[thelucyaddams]

You're very sweet, princess

Azula x fem reader

(Y/N) only wanted to spend some time on the beach and relax. That was only until she noticed a strange group of teenagers playing volleyball. One of the girls caught her eye and (Y/N) found herself enjoying the time they spend together.

It was a very hot but beautiful day on Ember Island. It was perfect for some relaxing time on the beach.

(Y/N) isn't the only one to think that since the whole beach was crowded.

The firebender sat on her towel sunbathing and watching the people around her. There were many families according to the children that were running around or building castles made of sand.

Some teenagers sat together in a group or played some games. Just like the ones that were playing a game of volleyball nearby.

(Y/N) watched them playing for a second and soon found herself quite interested in the match.

To be more specific it was the one team that caught her interest.

Three girls and a boy were playing like they were professionals. Really they were that skilled and totally crushed the other team.

Especially one of the girls seemed to be pretty strong. Her dark hair was styled into a top-knot that was decorated with some firenation headpiece. Only her bangs on either side of her face were free from the bun. The headpiece told (Y/N) that this girl like her companions must be noble or at least her family must be wealthy.

(Y/N) looked up and down her body and decided that she was very stunning. Even with that determined and kinda scary look on her face. Or especially because of that look. (Y/N) wasn't quite sure.

Suddenly the volleyball landed right in front of her and (Y/N) blinked a little confused for a second before she realized what happened.

She looked up only to see the beautiful girl coming her way. Out of all the players it was her who came after the ball!

(Y/N) swallowed before she stood up and picked up the ball to hand it back to the girl.

Her hands trembled a little which she hoped the girl wouldn't notice.

Golden eyes pierced their way right through her. It made (Y/N) nervous.

"Girl, would you hand me the ball now or are you looking for trouble?", the girl said in a serious and slightly annoyed voice.

(Y/N) blinked again only to realize she was standing right in front of the dark haired girl with the ball in her hands without moving any further. Embarrassing...

"Oh no, no, here...", (Y/N) stuttered and handed the ball to the other girl.

The girl only rolled her eyes pulled the ball out of (Y/N)'s hands and turned around to go back to the others without saying 'thank you' or anything else.

"Wait!", the nervous firebender managed to say.

The dark haired girl actually stopped walking and turned her head around a little to look back at (Y/N) over her shoulder.

"I watched you playing for a bit... You're really really good! I like your style... Crush them for me would ya?", (Y/N) managed to say.

The other girl raised an eyebrow but smirked kinda proud.

"Please, tell me something I don't know.", she replied and sighed with emphasis, "If you really want to see how I crush my enemies for my own interests you should come over and watch from the sides.", she added again putting emphasis on her words.

Especially when she said 'for my own interests'.

(Y/N) smiled about the quite unusual invitation which she accepted.

"Why not. Watching you up close will be much better."

The dark haired girl smirked even brighter before finally walking back to the other players followed by (Y/N).

The firebender watched in awe as the girl made her words come true and actually defeated her 'enemies'.

People might say her little speech at the end was a little... exaggerated and crazy. Not for (Y/N) though. She kinda liked it and admired the girls passion.

"Liked what you saw?", the dark haired girl asked out of the blue and gazed back at (Y/N).

"Definitely, I'm curious what you can do in a fight.", (Y/N) answered.

"Careful with those words when you're talking to Azula. It might be your last day on earth.", one of her teammates said.

It was a girl with black hair, dark eyes and a very gloomy expression.

"Don't listen to Mai! I appreciate your interest in my skills. I think I can show you one or two moves.", the girl named Azula said.

"It's so good to meet new people. What's your name? I'm Ty Lee!", the brunette among the group said.

Her expression was the complete opposite of Mai. She seemed to be very excited and happy but also energetic.

Then there still was the young boy. He had a scar around his left eye which was obviously caused by fire.

"The name's (Y/N). Nice to meet you all."

"Well, (Y/N) and you girls are very welcome at our party tonight.", two boys that walked up to them said all of the sudden.

"The place is just up the hill. You can't miss it. My name is Chan by the way and this is my friend Ruon-Jian."

"Oooh a party! We should totally go!", Ty Lee exclaimed excitedly.

"I go when (Y/N) 's going.", Azula said.

The firebender blushed slightly.

"I guess a party doesn't sound too bad.", she accepted the invitation sheepishly.

"Brilliant. It's decided then. We'll come.", Azula spoke for all of them.

"Hey, what about me?", Zuko protested.

His sister rolled her eyes.

"You're obviously with us, dum-dum.", she said.

"Yeah, alright. Meet us right after sunset.", was all Chan said before leaving them.

"So what was your name again?", (Y/N) asked the boy.

"Just call me Zuko."

"Or Zuzu.", Azula teased him earning a glare by her brother.

(Y/N) chuckled.

"Alright, guess I'll meet you later.", the firebender said waving them good bye.

"Yes, see you later, (Y/N)", Azula mumbled her possessive gaze never leaving the girl until she was out of sight.

The princess sighed.

"Come on, let's prepare for that party.", Azula said and started walking away followed by the others.

-------------------------🔥-----------------------

Slightly annoyed and even jealous Azula watched Ty Lee who was surrounded by all those boys while she was standing here alone without any attention.

That was only until a sweet voice spoke up next to her.

"Sorry, I'm late but I hope you're still up to enjoy this party."

Azula turned her head and got a very strange feeling in her guts when she saw (Y/N).

"That's why I'm here am I not?", Azula replied unusually nervous.

Her eyes went up and down (Y/N)'s body and took every bit of her skin that was visible. She looked truly stunning in that traditional firenation gown.

(Y/N) blushed when she took notice of Azulas gaze especially when it stayed on her trace of an abs.

"Well, you looked a little lost over here.", the firebender replied sheepishly only to earn a slight scoff by Azula.

"You don't really know me yet so I should tell you that I never get lost.", Azula answered arrogantly, "But I guess I could use the company and since you're here now... Tell me about yourself."

"Oh well, I'm a firebender I guess. My father is an admiral in the army. He is leading the fleet called 'The Dragon'. One of those elite spy units..."

"Admiral Huan, I see. Means you're from Fire Fountain City but as soon as your father got promoted you got a nice house in the capital."

(Y/N) was taken aback by how much Azula knew.

"How..."

"I guess I know a lot about the war especially about the men that fight for our nation. What about you? Did you join the army?"

"No, I really want to but father wouldn't let me. Not after what happened to my brother... Not after we lost him and mother... She never supported the war. It was a forced marriage so at some point when father wasn't home she left.. She just left us alone."

Azula didn't speak for a second. She was surprised by how easily (Y/N) opened up to her. Also she got this strange feeling in her stomach again when she realized their similarity. They both lost theirs mother's.

(Y/N) shock her head.

"But enough about it. We're at a party let's grab a drink and maybe we could dance for a bit?", the firebender tried to change the topic.

Azula only nodded.

So that's what they did. Trying some of the drinks. The fire cocktail definitely had something to like it. They also danced. Both of them had a hard time to relax and enjoy the music at first but after a while they both made fun of it and managed to move less stiff.

Zuko and Mai watched in surprise from afar when they saw Azula actually having fun and looking less scary for a bit.

Ty Lee on the other hand smiled. She was happy for her friend to enjoy herself instead of thinking about war and how to torture other people.

-------------------------🔥-----------------------

(Y/N) gazed up at the sky watching the stars while the little campfire in front of her warmed her body. But it wasn't just the fire that provided her warmth. It was the girl next to her as well.

Azula and (Y/N) were the last ones to enjoy the night. Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee already left.

After what happened at the party they just wanted to have some quiet moment.

Azula had opened up about her mom a little. (Y/N) felt nothing but sympathy for the girl. She knew to well how it was to lose your mother.

But when Azula confessed that her mom thought she was a monster (Y/N) felt nothing but anger. Even though they had just met this afternoon she felt like Azula was misjudged.

She couldn't see anything in her that would make her a monster. Even if she had some characteristics that made her... different it doesn't mean she was bad. No, she was just human just like anyone else.

"Would you still like to join the war?", Azula asked out of the blue.

(Y/N) shoot her a slightly confused look before answering.

"Yes, I guess. But father..."

"Oh believe me I have my ways to ensure you can join me in the fightings. In fact there's no one else that can make it happen. Your father won't have a choice but to let you go.", Azula explained.

"If that's so... then I'd love to join you."

"Brilliant. You and I we will rule the whole world and bring our nation to victory together!"

(Y/N) chuckled and leaned towards Azula a little to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek.

Azula looked completely taken aback and tried to hide the blush that appeared on her face.

"You're very sweet, princess.", the firebender whispered.

It took the princess aback even more.

"You know?"

"Well, a boy with that scar... His name's Zuko and his sister is called Azula. You know a lot about war and are utterly talented and you definitely aren't normal... Too many hints.", (Y/N) explained.

Azula smirked.

"Well, look at that she's not only beautiful but also clever... I like that.", the princess whispered getting her courage back.

"You know what I would like?"

Azula raised an eyebrow but closed her eyes when the firebender gave her another kiss. But this time on the lips.

Oh yes, they'd definitely rule the world together.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

The Spidey Squad Playing Among Us

Masterlist

Welp, this game is all the rave all of a sudden and irdk how since the game's pretty much been here forever lol but it's still fun so I had to jump on the bandwagon and here we are! Make sure you check go out @chaoticpete's new fic. Anyways here it is! If this gets enough likes I might do an avengers headcanon too.

Thanks to @angelsparkers for helping me realize I wasn't writing complete garbage and helping me to get through it even though she didn't even know she was doing that. So yeah thanks for that.

Peter

Crewmate: Peter is that crewmate that will 100% call you out on your bs, because he knows the game a little too well for you to be able to pull anything over him(because of all that free time waiting on patrol). You think all that stuff with the avengers didn't teach him strategy? Ha! This guy is PEAK detective. Gets his tasks done fast and when he's done is probably spending his time monitoring people on security or vitals. It only took him like 2 weeks to memorize all the maps and where everything is, so if you say you were in navigation, you better believe he's gonna ask you what task you were doing there. And if you don't answer to his liking, Peter will sound the "sus" alarm on you in two point five seconds and have everyone voting you out. He's probably the only person that could figure out MJ when she's the impostor. So if you're the impostor, watch your words and make sure your alibis are strong cuz little Petey ain't playin' no games. Definitely gets attacked from time to time by those people that are always like "sMaRt PpL rUiN tHe GaMe"

Impostor: He's pretty much the most average impostor. Sometimes he doesn't know what to say when people call him sus and he'll get voted out because he's being "too quiet" or because Ned keeps defending him. He'll mess up every now and then but for the most part, he's pretty decent. His style is usually to stay in the vents most of the game and kill when only one person's around. He probably bribes Ned to not rat him out by promising him that he won't kill him.

Name: It used to be just Peter, but soon he wanted an actual cool name so he chose Sherlock because of all the times when he was "too smart" and won the game too quickly and people would go "pack it up Sherlock" and vote him out.

Favorite color to be: It used to be red, but he quickly found that the more he was red the more people found him "sus" so now he's usually either blue or cyan

Ned

Crewmate: Pretty average crewmate. 80% of the time is covering for Peter, even if Peter is the impostor. Won't do much calling people out unless he's absolutely sure that he saw a kill or vent. Pretty chill and easily persuadable. You'd definitely want him on your team. If he ever gets wrongfully ejected he's the one that pitifully tries to plead his case saying stuff like "what???" and "guys it's not me!!!!" which doesn't really convince anyone and just makes him look more guilty. He'll still do his tasks after though.

Impostor: He's the impostor that doesn't want to be the impostor. If you're texting then maybe he can hold his own, but if you're doing voice chats, there's no way this guy is getting past ANYONE. He has so many tells that it's ridiculous. Is actually scared to vent too much because he's always paranoid that someone's gonna be right there when he jumps out. 8/10 the crewmates win when he's the imposter because he'll just kill like only two people the entire time or gets caught really early on.

Name: Probably some sci-fi reference like r2d2 or Potter

Favorite color to be: Yellow or white because he says those are the most "innocent" colors and he'll be less likely to get voted if he's those (not true but we'll let him believe it)

MJ

Crewmate: Suspicion times 100. Her motto: trust no one. Will get you kicked out in a heartbeat with a quick "trust me. if it's not them vote me next." An absolute unit but will never be caught getting emotional over a game. If she's ever wrongfully ejected her last words will be "whatever. go ahead. vote me and lose." She'll just come back in the next game with a vengeance and false accusations ready, not caring if the entire team loses because of it. She's especially dangerous to have because people usually trust her word. She always finds a way to seem the least suspicious. Though sometimes she'll get suspected because of her quiet nature. There's always that one guy that's ready to go "uR qUiEt ThAt'S sUs!!"

Impostor: If MJ is the impostor, you can just throw your whole phone away. You're not winning that game. Like, ever. She will do whatever it takes to win, even sell out her own her partner. On the off chance that you catch her being suspicious, she'll sabotage a bunch of things so that you can't call meetings and then she'll kill you when no one's around. She is ruthless and will hurt your feelings with the way that she will own everyone in the game. Hardly anyone ever expects her. Thrives on venting. You won't see her you'll just be doing a task and suddenly you'll be dead.

Name: Used to be just MJ but she got annoyed with all the people in the messages who always assumed she meant Michael Jackson or Michael Jordan so she changed it to Michelle

Favorite color to be: She literally doesn't care either way. Won't change the gameplay so why bother? Whatever color she ends up with she'll be fine.

Betty

Crewmate & Impostor: The most average player of them all. She wins some, she loses some. Nice partner to have though, because she'll never give you away. Probably the first to die most times. If she ever gets wrongfully ejected she's the one that uses her last words to say who she thinks it and doesn't even try to plead her case once it starts to look bad for her. She just finished the rest of her tasks.

Name: Probably either her name or some nickname or inside joke. Idk she just seems like the type of person to have a reference to something that absolutely nobody knows

Favorite color to be: Pink. Just because she likes pink.

Flash

Crewmate: Claims things are sus even if they aren't. Will totally be biased based on names. Anybody who knows him will never count him as a credible source. Gets voted out quickly alot because of how annoying he is in the game.

Impostor: He's the easiest to figure out. He's the impostor that obnoxiously accuses literally everyone else. And in all capital letters too. "ITS RED I STG. IF IT'S NOT HIM VOTE ME NEXT!" Calls everyone sus and always claims he's seen people running from the body. He usually self-reports and goes for the easy marks in electrical. He's not that good (even though he thinks he is) and it takes anyone with a brain to figure him out. Peter and MJ are bane of his existence in that game. If he gets wrongfully ejected he'll rage and probably leave the game like the little crybaby he is.

Name: Spideys#1 because he's really just THAT obsessed. Or when he's really feeling "teenage boy" he'll be cOchieman

Favorite color to be: Red because sPiDeRmAn'S hIs BeSt FrIeNd (ahahaha if only he knew)

May

She didn't know this game at all until Peter introduced her to it one day because he was bored. She LOVED it. He had to pry it out of her hands after she kept repeating "Hold on, one more!" So she downloaded on her phone and now she plays it whenever she's bored.

Crewmate: Average. Same as Betty.

Impostor: The way May can actually dominate being the impostor is sort of scary. And she'd always be the last person you'd expect because she just has that trusting vibe about her. Sometimes she'll mess up and give herself away, but for the most part, she's pretty good. Doesn't vent much. Just like Ned, she doesn't trust it.

Name: Madonna

Favorite color to be: She doesn't care much but she prefers to be purple, cyan, or orange

Funny Moment

《Peter calls an emergency meeting 10 seconds into the game》

- Michelle: what

- Betty: what

- Michelle: skip

- r2d2: bro already?

- Sherlock: okay everyone just listen

- k0chieman: bruh

- Michelle: okay listen to what

- Sherlock: flash what task are you doing

- Betty: alright were listening

- k0chieman: the divert thingy in navi

- r2d2: pete what is this

- Sherlock: yeah dude that diverty thingy is the second of two steps

- Sherlock: u never did the first

- Sherlock: which means ur an impostor faking

- Michelle: flash?

- k0chieman: no

- k0chieman: i did do it

- r2d2: the times low we gotta decide guys

- Sherlock: if you did it wouldve taken you 12-15 seconds to get there and were not that far in the game

- Sherlock: u cant already be doing it

- Sherlock: everybody vote flash

- r2d2: petes on x games mode

- Michelle: damn dude

- k0chieman: wtf parker

- Sherlock: bye dude

- Sherlock: worlds greatest detective strikes again

- Michelle: okay calm down pete

《couple seconds later》

. 　　　。　　　　•　 　ﾟ　　。 　　.

　　　.　　　 　　.　　　　　。　　 。　. 　

.　　 。　　　　　 ඞ 。 . 　　 • 　　　　•

　　ﾟ　　 Flash was An Impostor.　 。　.

　　'　　　 1 Impostor remains 　 　　。

　　ﾟ　　　.　　　. ,　　　　.　 .

Best Imposter Combos

Peter & Ned: Goes without saying. Nine times out of ten they're in the same room while playing this so they can just talk strategy to each other and take everyone out really quickly. Really annoying for everybody else, but they'll win so they're happy.

MJ & Peter: These two together are a force to be reckoned with. The second they see that they're both impostors they call each other up and get to business like they're on a mission. This stuff is serious. (More for Peter than MJ. She has to keep telling him that it's just a game.) He stays on security stuff, telling her when it's safe, and she racks up the kills. When things get heavy, they sabotage and then go on a spree. These two hardly ever lose. (When the whole squad is together whoever's in charge [if it's not Pete or MJ] usually puts the kill cooldown at max just in case these two get that they can't be at full power)

MJ & Betty: Betty isn't afraid to sacrifice herself so that they'll win and MJ is ruthless and quick with her kills. Both have the smarts to be able to be extremely persuasive and you'd hate for them to pick you to frame. Because being put against those two in the chatroom will lead you nowhere but abyss of space.

May & Peter: Parkers united. 'Nough said.

Tagging: @spideyyeet, @soft-petey, @spidey-reids-2003, @spidey-boy-89, @sovereignparker, @bubblebucky, @underoosjae

[raviliuz]

"Here comes the sun" Blaise Zabini x Theodore Nott

Muggle, retro au

@lifesucksandiwanttobeamarauder I finally translate that fanfiction, I hope you like it 🥺

The dark-skinned boy has tried to sit still from three hours already. It is incredibly hard for him, because of his amazing hyperactivity. In all honesty, sitting here as a model doesn't count to his dreams or favourites activities but he couldn't deny to Theodore's asks.

Just because of that — his bloody weakness for the older boy — he must stick up there and pose to Theodore's new painting. Blaise perfectly knows that person on that work of art won't be even similar to him. But it will be beautiful, perfect as everything that has been made by gifted hands of Theodore Nott.

There's music, playing quietly at the background, played on a gramophone, restored by Blaise himself. He gifted it to his friend as a birthday present two years ago on an incredibly warm and short night, 22th of June.

He has so many memories with that slight, passionate boy.

"Theo," he says suddenly, breaking the silence. He sounds like a dissatisfied kitten and when he doesn't notice any reaction, he repeats meowing "Theo, I'm bored."

The other boy finally pays his attention to Blaise, not his reflection on painting, which is created on a canvas (too small in Theo's opinion).

"Blaise, you really can't stand it for a while more?" Theodore asks and there is a nuance of desperation and melancholy in his voice, "I want to end it."

And Blaise has already known, he loses again. He won't be able to deny his friend the pleasure that results from looking at the painting — finished, after hours of working.

"I'll stand it, Theo" he sighs and in his mind adds 'always for you'. At this moment all he can do is begging and praying that Theodore is not able to read minds, just like some characters in their favourites comics.

"Nah, Blaise" slight boy says suddenly and leaves his paint palette and set of brushes on the cupboard, promising himself that he will wash it carefully within a few minutes when paints won't be already dry "I know you don't want to."

"It's not like that" Zabini starts to explaining himself chaotically because he doesn't want hurt Theodore's feelings, "I love watching your painting and you while you're painting. And I love that you have a passion and you're so talented. I just... It's May Day and we are sitting in your room..."

"It's alright, Blaise" Theodore interrupts his with the most beautiful, in Zabini's opinion, smile — that carefree, happy and only a little faraway one.

"We should do something and bring Hope with us to take many photos and place them in our albums with dumb yet cute captions" Theo proposes with a light laugh.

The younger, but taller, better built and more mature, of boys, stands up and brushes off invisible pollen from clothes. He reaches his hand to Theodore to help him stand up.

"Wanna go?" he proposes and even if Theo doesn't know where he agrees without a single question.

It doesn't matter where they go, it will be awesome as always if Blaise is with him.

He catches Hope and puts it on his neck. Theo loves his polaroid camera with whole his heart, even if it isn't the newest and all the better photos were made by Blaise.

Blaise is still holding Theodore's hand in his (definitely larger and rougher), like he doesn't care about rubs of paints in many different colours on Theo's hand and now, also on Blaise's one.

He pulls his friends outside and enters the garage like he is in his own house. Theodore knows what he means without words and grabs his bicycle with a big smile on his slim face.

Meanwhile, Blaise grabs his skateboard, which, only in the form of rebellion against sentiment, he did not give a name. But he perfectly knows that by his skateboard, people could see a different side of his personality, which he doesn't show often — bloody sentimentalist who loves very clichéd books or movies and constantly remembering beautiful moments, and it doesn't matter if that happens a year ago or two hours ago.

The skateboard has its best years far behind its. The picture which was printed on the underside of 'his love' (although, of course, incomparable to that of the boy just standing next to him) has almost completely faded and crumbled, peeling paint seems not so good, to put it mildly, but in Blaise's opinion, it adds the special character and charm to his skateboard. Every scratch and every cooked screw tell a story and Blaise thinks it definitely better than new skateboard — probably glamorous but without its own character.

Blaise isn't similar to Theo, not it that topic. He has never had boxes filled with various craps, which refer to many different events and happenings. He doesn't have special notebooks with tickets, a diary or millions of notes with quick sketches, created under the influence of a sudden flow of wen. He doesn't keep every notes and message on scraps of papers, which have been hand down on lessons, in hope that the teacher wouldn't see that. In first, even having a photo album was strange for Blaise. It shows, that he likes looking back at past and that feeling, which sometimes accompanies you right before falling asleep, when you remind yourself one of those pleasant situations from childhood, isn't foreign for him. It was all he was trying to defend himself against, but only for a time.

For a time when on his way stood that quite frail and nerdy boy. Theodore showed him being sentiment isn't something bad just as singing songs out loud in public places. As compensation, Blaise showed him the magic of comics and all these beautiful, charming in their area, which he discovered while taking a walk daily. Blaise pulled Theodore out of his room and dragged him away from the easel to lead him everywhere he can.

"To our place?" Theodore asks and gets on his a little too small, colourful bike. The seat creaks quietly under his mass but none of the boys pays any attention to this.

"Exactly, now ride, my carriage" Blaise screams and catches up on Theo's seat so the movement of the bicycle can drag him.

"Pff, flax" Nott giggles and Blaise find it as the most sonorous, melodic sound in the whole world.

They ride slowly through all that musty hole, also known as Torquay, or — their home. The road even if it's really old and it remembers when they as children drew chalk on a street, is not in a bad condition. A worse fate befell the road signs — some of them are smeared with sprays, and some are knocked off the ground, due to a car accident or a group of probably drunk but still strong young people.

There are many houses near the road. They are quite poor and definitely not as modern as houses in the capital. At some time, before he started taking daily walks, Blaise dreamed about living in London. Or rather, to be able to tell others that he lives in London. It's another thing which distinguishes him from Theodore — the older boy sees beauty everywhere, in everything and in everybody. Blaise envied him with this skill, for him the world has been boring or just ugly and people have been cruel sometimes.

The sun is warming their backs when they slowly ride on a well-known path. They pass Mrs Shermik, so out of courtesy from four meters away from her, they shout to the old woman joyful 'Good morning'. As they turn into a lane, which is fortunately dry as it hasn't rained much lately, Theo starts humming under his breath.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad" he looks at his friend (nearly losing control of his bike) and Blaise quickly understands what he means.

Blaise joins to his singing and adds next line:

"Take a sad song and make it better".

Someday Blaise would have worried. He was worried about what people would think, he was afraid someone would hear them. But not now. Now he doesn't care when the words flowing from the depths of memory, and when the song ends, he starts another, definitely his favourite — "Blackbird". Neither of the boys has a perfect voice, singing is definitely not their hidden talent, but that doesn't matter. And that is wonderful, isn't it?

Here Blaise can no longer skate further — the ground is too uneven, even ploughed by the tires of wheelbarrows and carts of people from the neighbouring village. The dark-skinned man rejects Theo's offer to simply get his bike's rack and chooses to run next to the boy. The basketball team and two trainings a week are finally coming in handy — thanks to this, his condition is really good and he doesn't gasp like an old man with asthma after twenty meters run. Theodore, noticing how well his best friend is doing, accelerates, forcing Zabini to run, which he accepts with a groan. Nevertheless, he catches up with the older boy and promises himself that as soon as they get there, he will get his revenge.

After five more minutes, they are a destination of their travel. The place they describe as "their", although they are well aware that they are not the only people who come here, is exactly as they remember it — beautiful.

It was Blaise who discovered them during one of his walks over three years ago. He perfectly remembered how it happened.

That day he was trying to find a rather fast but shallow brook, which he remembered from his childhood. Before Draco's move to London, they told Draco's parents that they were going to the field, but in fact, they went to the brook and walked back and forth on a tree that had fallen over the river. He remembered just as well how Draco's mother, on her way to the store, noticed they were not on the field, prompting a search. When their parents found them by the brook — wet but in unusually good moods, they were already too worried to be upset with them.

After searching for more than an hour (during which he definitely fulfilled the daily, maybe even a week, step norm, but he didn't care) he found a place from his memories, although it was difficult to recognize its. The brook had dried up completely, leaving only a faint riverbed and tree roots washed out of the ground, but the place has definitely retained its charm.

Theo drops the bicycle, leaning it hurriedly against one of the roots, and lays down on the grass, staring at the almost cloudless sky, hidden only by tree branches. Blaise, slightly out of breath, rests his hands on his knees and stays like this for a moment. When his breath normalized he comes closer to Theodore. There is a snap and a Polaroid camera gracefully named Hope spits out a photo in which the image hasn't shown up yet. Theo enthusiastically grabs a small piece of paper and starts waving it so fast that it is about to reach orbital velocity. After a while, the picture clears up the silhouette of a younger boy, who was about to lie down next to his friend. Blaise looks at the photo and asks smiling, even though he already knows the answer:

"For your or my album?"

"Of course mine," Theodore replies quickly, grinning happily, "Why do you need your own photos? They will be much more useful to me."

The dark-skinned boy can't help but messes Theodore's hair in one move of his hand. However, Theo is not annoyed by that, he reacts to it like a cat, moving closer and silently demanding further caresses, which the younger one does willingly.

They are sitting like that (or rather, Blaise is sitting and Theo's half lying on him) till the sunset. There is a flower crown on Blaise's head, made by Theo with field flowers collected by him. And of course, Theodore took a photo of Blaise in his work of art.

It's getting dark. Butterflies, which were flying around them flew away and gave way for beautiful moths and fireflies. Theodore stands up energetically and starts jumping on protruding trees' roots, chasing insects to take a photo of them.

"Theo, please be careful," Blaise says attentively but the only response is 'don't worry' screamed by Nott.

Blaise unwillingly starts remembering his childhood. Times, when he wasn't Theodore's friend and all that connected them, was the same neighbourhood, chalk and short-term relationship of their parents. Then they found that as a stupid and loathsome. Nowadays, at their seventeen's, just as weird. But they weren't friends. After all, Blaise was friends with Draco and the teacher in primary had repeated that it's better to have fewer friends but true friends. So Blaise fraternizes with Malfoy till he moved to London.

It's not that now Blaise finds it as a mistake or holds any grudge with Draco. But nowadays he thinks that it is not good to withdraw from others.

When Draco had left and moved to London, Blaise had thought they now he stayed alone but on that moment, Theodore slowly crept into his life. Nott sat next to Blaise on school basketball pitch and started reminding happy moments from times when Draco lived in Torquey.

And later he showed his painting to Blaise and dark-skinned boy couldn't believe someone his age could do something that beautiful. A week later Blaise sat down with him in the canteen and sometime later also on most of the lessons so he could distract him from learning to read their favourites comics.

Now, Blaise would imagine his life without his always laughing and only sometimes a little faraway friend.

His thoughts are interrupted by a quiet scream.

"Ouch!"

Blaise, worried, stands up imminently and run through Theo. He is curled up in a fetal position between roods of the biggest tree. Zabini hugs him tightly and Theodore accepts that willing, cuddling to his chest while holds back tears.

"Ah, Theo" Blaise whispers, still cuddling the boy in his arms, "I asked you to be careful."

"I'm sorry, Blaise" he answers, sniffing.

"Don't apologize to me, silly" Blaise couldn't stop himself from nuzzling his friend's cheek.

"But you are worrying now and you warned me that I might get hurt..."

"Shhhh" Zabini interrupts him and places his fingers on Theo's mouth to shushes him "I always worrying about you, no matter if you get hurt or not" he admits truthfully and after a few seconds of silence adds "Please, stop crying.

He stops hugging Theodore, although he wants to do it forever. Blaise squats in from of him and gently grabs his friend's head. He wipes away tears, flowing slowly on fairy (although all that time, spends under the sunlight) skin.

He wants to not cry because of sadness or pain, wants him not to have reasons for a cry.

He wants him to be always happy, even if that meant that Blaise wouldn't be on his side.

Wants, wants, wants.

But the world isn't always beautiful, even if Theodore thinks so. Sometimes the world is cruel, ugly or just totally boring. The same about people who live in it.

Do it's really important to find your refuge. A place, a person or a hobby, which will be like an escape from all evils in that world.

Blaise thought that his escape is comics. Reading them has dragged him into the world of superheroes where he could use his imagination and think about meaningless things for hours such as what superpower would he choose (flying, of course). Besides that, the world in comics is just easier. It isn't hard to differentiate who is good and who's bad. Good people fight with bad people, that's all. The Justice League cares about Gotham and saves innocent people from Joker, Deadshot or Darkseid. In the real world, it would be an unsolvable matter with billions different threads and complications so even the best detectives wouldn't be able to decide who is guilty.

Comics world is just easier.

Lately, Blaise has got to understand that the whole beauty in that world is locked in its confusions, problems and ambiguities. Because the world is beautiful, even if sometimes it's cruel or ugly.

And the one who made him understand that is his only real refuge — Theodore Nott.

He is the one who makes reading comics even better.

He is the one with who Blaise could do anything and it would be incredibly good.

He is the one with who Blaise wants to talk about 'good old times' and makes new memories to remember.

He is the one with who Blaise wants to stay forever.

Theodore Nott is the one who Blaise bestow that hot and unique feeling which, no matter what since says, comes from the heart.

And that feeling, now makes him do something, he has been dreaming about for that long. Blaise gently and unsurely grabs the head of the person, who since a year isn't only a friend for him. He delicately raises Theo's head a bit upper to look him straight into his eyes. Their lips touch slowly and gently. Both of them don't feel so confident with what's going on but they will worry about that later. Now, Blaise doesn't have the time and desire to thinks about the consequences. Not now, when he feels the structure of soft lips of his love.

When the dark-skinned boy doesn't notice any objections from the older boy, he let himself do a light, carefully move with his lips. He doesn't want to scared Theodore, knowing how delicate and artsy person he is. He would ever forgive himself hurting Theo.

If he only knew how long Theodore was waiting for it and how much he enjoys that kiss, even if Blaise's lips are rough and chapped.

Blaise gently moves away and hangs his head down, looking at too long grass. He's afraid of seeing Theodore's reaction for what he has done because he's afraid of rejection and ending that important relationship.

However, Theo, likes he doesn't see his friend insecure, giggles lightly and grabs the younger boy cheeks, turning his face to him.

"Oh, finally. How long might I wait?" Theo says with a delightful smile.

"Really. You... Me..." Blaise mutters like he doesn't know what he wants to say.

"Yeah, silly" Theo chucked and hits an end of Blaise's nose with his "You're definitely my favourite person in that universe. And every other, alternative universe too."

Blaise, still can't believe what's happening, hugs his boy and kisses him quickly. The kiss is one hundred per cent cute and totally not sultry. Because feelings as sultry and desire don't fit Theodore, even in an alternative universe where Bruce Wayne become the Devastator instead of Batman. It just does not fit.

"Yeah, and you're my fav person."

They sit in silence for a while, but it's nothing wrong. The silent can be calming and comfortable, it can say more than every word in the world.

The air is getting cooler and owls' chirps become more ominous, so finally, Blaise breaks the silence and says:

"Theo" mentioned boy turns to him and glance at Zabini, "Is your knee still hurting?"

"It's not that bad" Theo shrugs but Blaise quickly understands that it's not good either, "But can you ride the bicycle? I'll drive on its carrier."

"But what with my skateboard?" Blaise asks inconvenience.

"I'll carry it, please" Zabini's only answer is a sigh but not the irritated one. He doesn't know what would Theo had to do to irritate him.

"Alright, but please, be careful."

Blaise raises Theo's bicycle from the ground and helps the boy to climb up to the luggage carrier and then he carefully sits on its seat. Theodore holds Blaise's skateboard (which he has named against his will — Faith) with one hand and the other one is embraced around Blaise's stomach so Theo can stably stay on the carrier. Well, maybe not only because of that.

"To me?" Blaise proposes and slowly leaves their place.

Theodore automatically nods but then he understands that Blaise can't see him so he quickly says 'yes' some times.

Boys are leaving, slowly and without unnecessary haste, but that moment is different than every previous one, they have spent here. Now, they're leaving their place not as just friends.

From Theodore Nott's album:

"4th of May, 1984 —

My favourite day to remember"

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Traditional Values or Matrimony Before Children

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and very smutty content.

Summary: Rod decides it's time to 'pop the question' because he can't risk losing Kirby after they have a massive argument following Kirby getting injured.

Kirby's POV:

"Maybe if ya were able to see things from my point of view, ya wouldn't be here right now!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so pig-headed about the finish of the match, I wouldn't have ended up getting hurt!"

I had snapped by this point, we were in New Haven, Connecticut and Rod had rushed in at the end of my match against Orton.

The match ended due to outside interference as well as injury.

Piper had knocked me off the turnbuckle, right before I was going to hit a senton bomb on Orton, making me fall out of the ring, off of the turnbuckle and thus slamming my right elbow into the guardrail, leaving me in extreme pain and needing medical attention.

He had managed to make me sprain my elbow, putting it in a sling for three weeks and taking me off television for the next month.

Damien had told me to take the month off, not risking any sort of further injury.

From the sixth of May until the sixth of June I wouldn't be allowed to work and I pinned all of the blame onto Roddy.

I got Damien to drive the long way back to the house, luckily me and Roderick had separate keys.

I was so hot with rage that I decided to just go home, to Cardiff, forget all about America and Roddy.

I stewed in the anger for the full three weeks of healing, on the Twenty-ninth of May, I heard the front door open, fully ready to call everything quits I waited for him to get through the foyer and see me.

"Before ya leave me, let me know, did ya love me?"

"I, uh, I, God, Roddy," I couldn't hold back the tears and Rod came running up to me, I tried to push him away with my left arm but failed.

"My love, my love, shh, shh, it's okay, you're okay."

"Rod, I wanted to leave but then I got my citizenship finished up and everything was clear and I couldn't think of a life without you in it … And now is not the time to get horny."

"Oh God, I'm not, that isn't, I wanted to do this after I cheered you up, but I guess now is as good a time as any, uhm," he took a moment to collect himself and got in front of me next to the table and got down on one knee, "Kirby Trevor, I know I'm a mad Scottish bastard at times, and before you ask I did ask your parents for your hand," he got out a small black box from the pouch of his sporran and opened it, inside laying half set into the foam was a simple, slim, iron ring, "I know we're moving a little fast, but I can't imagine a life without you in it and, I'm not risking losing you for a third time, I would like to marry ya, if you would let me."

"Roderick, you're kidding."

"I'm not kidding, mo chridhe. It would make me the happiest man alive."

"Oh … my … God … Yes, Rod, Yes!"

He slipped the ring onto my left ring finger, pulling me closer and kissed my neck before hoisting me over his shoulder and taking me upstairs.

By the time I woke up the following day, Rod was putting an ice pack on my elbow.

"Roddy?"

"Morning, mo chridhe, are ya alright?"

"I'm fine, yesterday was real, right?"

Rod lent down to kiss me, running his fingers over the rings on my left hand, making me realise that instead of my usual three, there were now, in fact, four rings, all in a row. Yesterday was real, the almost argument, the breakdown, the proposal, it was all real.

Without much thought I got up and backed Rod against the wall, kissing his neck, his jawline, his lips, anywhere I could access, until he managed to back me towards the bed and throw me down onto it.

"I fucking love ya, mo chridhe."

"Rod, when are we getting married."

"When do you want us to get married?"

"As soon as possible. If it's possible"

Roddy made calls, several calls, to I don't know who but he managed to get us a civil ceremony on Friday the first of June.

Seeing Rod in the pale blue suit as I stood there in my satin, peach toned slip dress I suddenly felt complete, in a weird way, like I had found my other half. I guess that's why people call their spouse their 'better half'.

The matching wedding bands we had Rod had bought without me felt right, two Celtic wedding bands, one gold (being Roddy's) and one silver (being mine).

We got back to the house, now a married couple and likely to spend a lot more time near each other, seeing as Damien had outed me on television the day before our civil ceremony as Rod's girlfriend, and soon-to-be wife.

Captain Lou and Cyndi Lauper had both made statements on me and Rod being 'man and wife' with both of them believing that it was 'disgusting to see two freaks marrying each other'.

However, the other D.O.D members as well as Schultz, Orndorff, and Orton showing support.

Roddy took 'wedding night bliss' seriously. No condoms, no alcohol, just him and me and a potentially breakable bed.

Things started off the moment we got in through the front door, Rod quickly locking the door behind us as I took my heels off, now in just my satin dress, I started walking out of the foyer, Rod pulled me back, hoisting me into a bridal carry and taking me upstairs, kicking open our bedroom door before letting me down.

I managed to sit myself on the edge of the bed while Rod was preoccupied with taking off his suit, I focused back on taking off my dress, the zip up the back actually pretty easy to unzip and remove, standing back up and letting the dress slide off, hearing a groan from Rod and knowing fully that he was watching me, he soon saw the black lace leg garter and started grinning like a mad man.

"Rod, what are you thinking about?"

"I think you know, honey."

In a matter of about a minute or two, Rod had ripped off the garter with his teeth and started kissing from my mid-thigh up to my groin and then making his way up to kissing my neck and then my mouth.

Feeling the heat from Rod's groin as well as his erect member poking at my clit through two layers of clothing (his briefs and my boxers) and hearing him groan in my ear, I started sliding my hand down the front of Rod's briefs.

when we woke up the next morning, both still fully nude, Rod was just starting to wake up as I started to get dressed.

"Oh, there you are, my beautiful wife."

"My dearest husband."

"We've gotta get back to work, Honey."

"I know, Roddy, I know."

By the seventh of June we were back at work fully, each night before Rod had asked for my permission to try and get me pregnant and I agreed, most of the time it was either in a hotel bed or on the front bench of the D200.

On screen I was usually by Roddy's side often being treated as softer or more emotionally vulnerable when compared to him, but just as quick-witted and tough as him. A marriage of equals instead of your typical opposites attract.

On the ninth of June I was in Roddy's corner during his fight against Rocky Johnson at the Capital centre in Landover, Maryland. He pinned Johnson, later on that same night he filmed a Piper's Pit segment with Captain Lou.

I was once again in Roddy's corner for another win against Rocky Johnson on the fifteenth in Detroit.

Then again, another Roddy win against Johnson on the sixteenth in Hollywood, Florida's Sportatorium before he filmed another segment of the Pit with Lauper.

I had noticed that either my period was late this month or something was wrong because I still had some cramping pains but they weren't as bad as they usually would be if I was 'on'. I decided to drop my worries for now and to focus on staying by Rod's side as I knew if anything bad happened to me, he'd be the first to react.

We went to the CYC in Scranton, Pennsylvania for another one of Roddy's matches against Rocky Johnson on the 18th.

I noticed on the twentieth that I had started feeling tired much easier than before, often needing to sit down a lot quicker than I was used to.

Backstage at the Civic Centre in Erie, Pennsylvania on the Twenty-first. Instead of going out with Roddy like what had been planned, Billie and Vickie had pulled me aside and into a bathroom, locking all three of us in a small private bathroom stall originally meant for disabled patrons or staff members, Vickie started questioning me.

"How long have you and him been married?"

"Around twenty days, why?"

"Have you two been, y'know," Billie wiggled her eyebrows, "Active?"

"Ya mean sexually, of course. I'm his wife, what are you two doing?"

"Well, little 'sister' time to take a test."

"What, Vic, like a newlywed game or something?"

Billie pushed me backwards, forcing me to sit on seat of the toilet, still with my slacks on.

"This test," Vic pulled out an 'ADVANCE' box from her purse, "You look confused, Kirbs. It's a pregnancy test, tall-ass."

"No, no, I can't be, just, no."

"Take it, we'll guard the door."

Vic unlocked the door and they exited, leaving me to take the pregnancy test, I did what the test required and told Vic, who went through the steps, and started giggling to herself after the result came through.

"I'm going to be an auntie."

"Oh no, no, you're kidding, right?"

Vic wasn't kidding, she explained the test and the result and lo and behold my future had changed, I was expecting a child. Rod didn't know yet, but I didn't know how to tell him. Truly I love Rod, but how was I gonna explain this to him.

The following day (22nd June 1984) it was announced that 'Due to unforeseen circumstances' I was not wrestling for the next ten months.

On that Saturday (23rd June 1984) Rod had brought me on to Piper's Pit to address some questions about my nearly a year long departure from wrestling.

"I've had a lot of questions about why my wife is off your screens, ladies and germs, so here she is, my beautiful wife, Kirby Piper."

"Hi Roddy."

"Hello, beautiful. First of all, congratulations on marrying the strongest and most intelligent man in the WWF. Secondly, why have you decided to take a ten month break from active competition?"

"Firstly, thank you for marrying a female giant. Secondly, Rod, look me in the eyes."

He did as I asked, and so I continued.

"I am being completely serious, okay."

"Okay."

"Roddy Piper, I, as your wife, and as your friend, must be completely honest and tell you that I am," I took a moment to compose myself and realised that both the audience, as well as both Orton and Piper were hanging on my every word, "I'm, I am," I took a deep breath in to help calm myself down, "I am pregnant."

Barely above a whisper, I had said it just loud enough for the microphone Piper had customarily shoved in my face, the same way he did to all his guests, could pick up.

"Re, uh, repeat that, Kirby," Rod stumbled over his words momentarily, "If you, if ya wouldn't mind, my, my love."

Slightly louder than before, now at my normal speaking volume, rather than a whisper, I repeated my statement, "The reason I'm out of the ring for the next ten months is because I, the human being you see here, I am with child. I am pregnant."

Rod erupted, dropping the mic, which still continued to work and actually caught him yelling, "I'm gonna be a dad?! I'm going to be a father?!"

He dropped to his knees in front of me, I leant down to kiss him and he got up, having to lean down into the kiss for a moment. The crowd cheered from behind him, before they started chanting his name. He helped me out of my seat and Orton gave Rod the mic before helping me stand from the other side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, my wife, Kirby Piper, and the reason, oh my God, the reason she is out of active competition. I'm gonna be a father! Acey baby, I'm gonna be a dad, can ya believe it?!"

Rod leant up to kiss me, letting Orton let go of the other side of my back as Rod wrapped his arms around my waist and stayed in the moment until we both needed air, touching his forehead to mine as he huffed out an almost silent 'I love you, so much'.

END OF TRADITIONAL VALUES or MATRIMONY BEFORE CHILDREN

[resignedseraph]

hi, i struggle a lot with the idea of defining my faith because of my personal experience with the catholic/christian based faiths. i was brought up in catholic school and i could probably tell you anything about any of it at this point, but the one constant for me was always that the god i was taught about got more complex with age which i think is bullshit because then we get into the bible was written through divine inspiration and the hypocrisy that just because the holy spirit (which is god (who is infallible)) divinely inspired people (who are infallible) that means suddenly only priests and popes can translate god's plan for you because they were Called to Serve™️ - i'm not gonna go down that rabbit hole because i'm pretty sure i'll have an aneurysm (you can't say god is the embodiment of red and so what if that includes green - i'm watching the good doctor and they made a similar reference which means it's the only thing i can think up rn).

ANYWAYS. the post that prompted this was "i wasn't getting into your heaven anyways" i think. how do you know that heaven is the right heaven? how do we know catholicism hasn't been corrupted by the demons of say capitalism and bigotry and arrogance etc and that the only way you could actually get into heaven is if you stop trying. why would their version of god want eternal life with people that only ever did the right thing so they could live forever? i think the god i could get behind would have a heaven for the sake of those that actually deserve it. give them what they think they want and oversee it even though they have to watch their creation wallow in the sin they tried to save them from (which by the standard of the god i learned about in elementary school like the god that should exist or else fuck that shit i'm out) and they would do it because it's the unselfish thing to do and as much as it hurts they couldn't bear to have anyone else be subjected to that kind of awful. and say hell ends up being heaven? say the archangels falling was an elaborate ruse to TRULY separate good people from bad people? and maybe heaven isn't really hell but it's this limbo that the bad people go to but like they have the chance to realize they were awful and like that could be how they could maybe get to heaven but they have to realize it themselves and try to redeem themselves by doing something really big with the knowledge that they could be wrong and end up going to fire and brimstone and never see their loved ones again for it but still they try because it's the right thing to do. and what if purgatory is for the worst people, maybe there's a parallel to it that people who are truly sick/were born with something in them broken are the demons that make purgatory the worst place as their punishment along with like demons or whatever idk i'm making this up on the spot. what if hell is the heaven you always hoped for, heaven is the hell you're living through, and purgatory is just unimaginable horrific with like hitler and shit getting what they SO deserve and more.

wouldn't that be like wicked cool?

i'm sorry if that doesn't make any sense i'm probably gonna go try to write a book or some shit but like idk. it felt like you might find my semi critical ramblings somewhat relatable? or that it might - not restore your faith i'm not here for that that's bullshit - heal something inside of you that's been broken by your personal experience with religion? maybe that you could die with that warm and fuzzy hope in your heart that we all should have had when we were kids..? i hope this doesn't upset you, i just. i'm a dreamer.

i was born with a heart that feels way too much and a conscience that will not let me be any other way than what i am. i've been called weird and annoying for it all my life. but i found a peace in truly rejecting religion, which i think people might forget also means buying into the fact that rejecting religion means we're doomed to the hell that religion subscribes to. i think maybe it could be rejecting the heaven and the hell that religion subscribes to and either defining it for ourselves or simply saying whatever and giving it the best you got even if your best doesn't seem all that good.

what if you were to embrace the things you've always been told make you bad to do the good you wish existed - and what if that was enough? i think that's why i get out of bed in the morning. and that maybe it's healed a part of me that's needed to believe in a world like that a long long time ago but never had the chance..

Look, this ask is so long and took me so long to figure out what it said (thank you brain), and I grew up very Protestant so I hope you don’t mind if I missed some stuff or can’t really address it. Also lmk if you want me to delete this or whatever, I just didn’t want to leave you hanging.

I do think Catholicism, and Christianity in general, have been corrupted by all those things. Probably not demons, just humans and their terrible ideas and striving for power.

I think that trying to decipher what any “true” meaning of a religion is —especially one like Christianity as an umbrella term— ends up being really confusing and complicated, and sometimes you even end up with a set of beliefs that aren’t even the religion you started out with. Trust me, I’ve tried. Some people can figure out beliefs that make sense for them, and that’s cool, but by the time I figured out a set of beliefs that made sense to me, it wasn’t even Christianity anymore except by inspiration.

I’m not sure what to make of your ideas about the afterlife setup, but I do think that the vast majority of ideas of Heaven tend to be a hell in themselves. I can’t justify the Heaven/Hell setup, and can’t say anything really about Purgatory since I don’t know enough about the most common beliefs about it, but it doesn’t sound fantastic either. Regardless, I don’t think punishment is the appropriate response to any sort of “sin,” especially from the perspective of a supposedly all-powerful, all-knowing, infinite being.

I think I’m fine with being doomed to the hells of the religions I don’t believe in. After all, that argument works with nearly every religion that has a concept of a punishment afterlife, and I’ve been fine with that since I was little, even if it was for different reasons. I’m honestly not sure about the last bit. I think I probably will die with that “fuzzy feeling,” but from a different source, most likely just love for humanity and the world.

[wisp-is-trying-to-cope]

Arabella thought that she would despise the capital, with all of it's smog and people who never cared about your name or the gossip of the day.

However after a month of living in the magic capital, she came to realize that the smog wasn't actually bad, because of magic purifiers and the people could be ignored.

Well, she should have known it wouldn't have been that bad.

Magic was a beautiful thing after all.

Arabella Auclair was a force to be reckoned with, coming in at a height of 4'10 with the power of being small, mischievous, and annoying.

It wasn't actually a power, more like her entire being.

Ara had always been small, coming into the world at a meager three pounds. The midwife had told her mother that she wouldn't make it.

Arabella felt good when she kicked the midwife's son in the shins seven years later.

Her mother always asked her how such a little person got into so much trouble.

Her mother and her were constantly the talk of the town, being in a small farming community of 200 where marriage was sacred and cows were the only form of entertainment. Her mother, Clara, daring to engage in a week-long affair with a traveling man, which was the ultimate cause of her existence, ended up having her blacklisted in the community.

When Arabella asked her mother why she had done it, the woman simply placed a bowl of stew in front of her and smiled as she spoke, "He was the only man worthy of my time and in the end, he earned it."

"But everyone talks crap about you all of the time!" Ara protested.

"Well… while they talk, I earned you. That's worth it, isn't it?" Her mother asked.

Arabella simply didn't think that was a fair trade at all, considering the trouble she got in and how smart her mother was.

Ara got into fights with boys every other day, she had quit fighting with girls after they cried from one hair pull.

Her mother got them out of poverty with one power play.

Ara had spent her first three years of her life sleeping in stables right next to the tavern her mother worked at. Clara's father and Ara's grandfather had kicked the young woman out the minute she turned out to be pregnant. Unfortunately for the bitter man, he had no other children, so when he passed away when Ara was three, her mother earned the farm, made a deal with the nearby farmer which ended with them having a home, land, and work.

Clara ended up becoming one of the most wealthy farmers in the town.

While Ara beat up their sons.

One night, as her mother patched up her battle wounds, she wondered aloud, "Hmmm… maybe your father was a fae after all. With all of the spite you've got, you're surely one."

Her mother wasn't far from the truth.

Because at the ripe age of 7, as Arabella fell into the creek and with no one to save her, accepted her fate as the bastard child who drowned.

At least, until the water pulled her out and then began to talk to her.

Yes… talk to her.

Now, you see, Arabella's magic was something much different than everyone else. While they manipulated the world around them, using their internal mana to create change…

She nurtured it.

Arabella didn't have a hint of mana inside of her. Instead, it was all around her. The world looked at this small girl and instead of leaving her alone, they decided she could interact with everything.

A leaf? She could talk to it. A rock? She had great conversations with one every Tuesday. The world was one big conversation and whenever she wanted magic cast, all she had to do was ask.

Of course, this had its own problems.

Now, while she could ask the world to perform a task, that didn't mean it would perform it. Arabella had to be nice, she couldn't just demand everything.

For a girl with a lot of fire, that was an issue.

On more than one occasion she found herself dealing with things backfiring.

"Why can't you just DO AS YOUR TOLD!" She yelled as she threw a rock at the water.

Then the water threw a rock back and knocked the girl straight out.

Arabella learned to be nicer to the spirits from then on.

She called them spirits because what else could she call them? No one else's magic was like this.

Arabella could listen to the world and while it could listen back, there was no one to listen with her.

One night Arabella finally told her mother about the voices, hoping…. Knowing… that since her mother was so smart, she would have the same powers! She simply had to be waiting for Ara to earn hers… right?

When Clara's face suddenly shifted from her normal soft look to a hardened one, Ara knew she was wrong.

Her father was the strange one.

Of course he had to be, the man who ruined everything, being the one who had fathered this magic.

Clara loved her daughter the same and ended up letting slip that perhaps she could meet her father and learn more about this magic.

And where was her dear old dad?

The magical capital of course. Right where a farm girl like her could never think to be.

So Arabella gathered her mother's smarts and made a plan.

From that day on, she threw herself into school, until school became too easy, then manners came next, she needed to be polite to the spirits.

She still fought with idiot farm boys, of course.

Then she finally proved she had magic. However, she didn't let the true nature of her powers slip. She simply made it seem like she had the elemental abilities of both earth and water, the two easiest spirits to handle, and the town ran with it.

Clara's child was going to be a mage? A wizard!? Maybe she would join the royal court. Magic was rare after all, a gift the old farm town would never see again for generations.

Marriage was suddenly brought up, but Arabella quickly made it clear that she was going to go away to school.

Like she would want to marry an idiot farmer anyways. If anything, she would marry an amazing, intelligent magician.

Her mother laughed when she told her this and said she would have married Ara's father if possible.

Ara thought that her father was the stupidest part of her mother. A no good fae, seducing a smart country girl and then leaving her high and dry with child.

At the age of 16, Ara sent her letter to the magical capital of the world, Icosa. The Academy of Magic in Icosa was simply the best in the world. Arabella would settle for no less.

When she got her confirmation for her interview and magic test, her mother packed her up and shipped her off to the nearest testing location.

And then when her acceptance letter finally came, they both cried in the kitchen for hours, although Ara would deny it.

Saying goodbye to her mother was the hardest thing. The capital wasn't simply a carriage away…. But a two weeks worth trip.

Now… Ara is here… in the magic center of the world, preparing to start at the Academy.

However, she is a child of fire, water, earth, and all of the rest. Nothing could stop her now.

Magic, really was, a wonderful thing.

((I do not own the picture. I simply thought it suited her well until I draw her myself. To tell the truth it's been awhile since I've written something properly and I haven't posted anything I've written here before. This is simply a roleplay character showcase but I thought it would be fun to display here!!! Also there is definitely grammar errors considering I didn't look this over and wrote it quickly.)

[survivor-mountmerapi]

Ep. 8: “This isn't really my drama” - Anastasia

Elle

Me getting votes in the first post-merge tribal? We absolutely hate to see it folks!! I feel like I'm being so pessimistic about my chances in this game but also like... shouldn't I be 😂😂 God I hope those two votes were Julia and Pietro (but still like, r00d. lol) I have a 10% DA in this next challenge... I'll be Frank [-but then who will be Elle?] Things aren't looking amazing for me but I don't think I'll go home next round (unless Julia has another idol 😭😭😭). I don't even know what to say I'm just bad at thisss 😅 I mean the game not confessionals I've been leaving my heart and soul in these lol. Anyway I'm gone for now I'll just leave with this: Liability is the best song off of Melodrama not Ribs mmk bye ✌🏽✨

DeNara

Oh my gosh, that tribal!!! When Raffy pulled the idol I was like.... what the heck is happening?!?! I can understand Raffy playing it because he wasn't solid with the other warriors and newbies voting with him, but it was a waste of an idol. TBH I am glad he played it though since I didn't know he had it. I felt bad that Pietro went home just because he was aligned with Julia, but it happens. I had to try and do some damage control with Moth and Elle, as well as Rachel after tribal. They were shook when Julia pulled an idol and Pietro got votes. Anastasia just out right told me the magic beans she got at the auction allowed her to see if people have idols and said she would use it for me (I think she said this to everyone). I don't think Elle, Moth or Rachel suspect me playing both sides hard, but who knows. I really don't know who I should work with. I was thinking about making a big move and flipping to my new "Lucky Charms" alliance with Moth, Elle, Ginnifer, Rachel and potentially Julia, but it could be too early for that. The sad thing is I want to work with Rachel and Elle for sure but they aren't in my core alliance. I am suspicious of Gian because he seems to be playing pretty hard and he isn't aligned to me much. Madi and I don't talk much so that gets me worried as well. Raffy is super fun, but he is a big threat in this game. I honestly think it is just Steven keeping me with that group because he is my #1 in this game. I honestly am finding it hard to figure out who I want to work with because I like everyone in this game!!!!! I just can't get caught in the middle or I am hecked.

Raffy

The plan went off without a hitch. I did waste an idol, but now no one can say that I have one. I am considering telling my alliance that I have the "Safety Without Power" so that they don't have any reason to distrust me. It might have hit a sour note with them to find out I had an idol that I didn't tell them about. Gian didn't seem to mind, but most people put on an act in this game. It would be a hard decision, however, since they can easily use that against me at the next tribal. I hope that neither Julia nor Ginnifer win immunity. Julia speaks for itself. I am targeting her, and I want her gone. However, Ginnifer has now alarm bells ringing in my ear. DeNara told Steven and I that Ginnifer wants us GONE. Like, Ginnifer is on some sort of vendetta mission to take us out. While we don't have the exact reasoning, we can assume that she is targeting us for simply being winners. She seems to think that we think we're master manipulators and puppet masters who need to be brought down a peg. Here's the thing with that kind of logic though. It isn't going to work with people who don't care about us being winners. My allies don't care, and they are even ratting on you to me. I love DeNara. She's a great ally. I told Steven that maybe we should reconsider our target and make it Ginnifer. He seems down, but he doubts there would be numbers (as do I). Speaking of numbers, I need to be way more social than I already am. I don't have as much social capital as Steven or Madi or DeNara. So, I am going to start with the people who are probably near the bottom of people's ally list or are considered non-factors: Elle, Moth, and Anastasia. If I get in good with them, I can gain some solid numbers. Moth and Elle had no idea about the split, so I had to do some damage control. Whether that worked... I have no idea. However, I need to be more transparent with them so that I can gain their trust for future tribals. Plus, I am pretty sure that Elle has an idol.

Julia

BITCHES THOUGHT I WAS DOWN AND OUT FOR THE COUNT. Found another idol baby. I’m basically Rick devens. Anastasia is going to use her stupid magic beans on me again though but I simple don’t care. Let them know I have an idol great. Then they’re going to have to figure out who they want to vote for instead, which will create massive cracks for me to work around. I love this

Ginny

Since I went to exile I was safe from a tribal council on the first round of merge then when I got back I saw pietro was voted off in a chaotic tribal council but I’m in many different alliances but I’m choosing the original warriors alliance because warriors strong duh

Raffy

I did not win this immunity challenge which sucks. I think I might want to use my SWP because if I don't then I'm just going to be a target everyone wants for now. And I want to at least make single digits. I told my alliance of Gian, Madi, DeNara, and Steven about my SWP to gain their trust after not telling them about my idol. And if I do plan to use it this round, it doesn't hurt to tell them about to plan around this. I've been focusing a lot more on socializing, so we'll see if it garners me any favor to not be voted out. Julia has tried reaching out. I think I want to get her to target Ginnifer since the latter is coming after me.

DeNara

Heck ya, I may win individual immunity today! I find out soon if I will be competing in a tie breaker challenge to see if I win. I sure hope I do, I would feel great!

DeNara

I am playing the middle so hard right now I may end up getting voted out because of it... oof

Raffy

The vote should be unanimously Julia. I threw Ginnifer under the bus to Julia so that... she doesn't vote for me. Though, I doubt she has an idol. Plus, if she does, we are going to ask Anastasia to play a bean on her to see if she does. DeNara told me about an alliance with Ginnifer, Elle, Moth, Rachel, and herself. Apparently, Rachel is getting suspicious of Gian and Madi because they didn't tell her about the split vote. This works in my favor as it splits the newbie tribe a little bit because Gian and Madi seemed very pressed about it. This will sow the seeds of implosion for the newbies. The planned boot order would be Julia then Ginnifer. Apparently, Ginnifer, Elle, and Moth are a trio (but Ginnifer is the only person who cares about it). I'm not too concerned, but I am going to keep an eye on Rachel too now.

Ginny

Since I went to exile I was safe from a tribal council on the first round of merge then when I got back I saw pietro was voted off in a chaotic tribal council but I’m in many different alliances but I’m choosing the original warriors alliance because warriors strong duh

Julia

I miss Pietro so much, it’s so fun deciding which person to send to jury with him tonight

Julia

GOD THIS IS FUN. Bitches being saying straight up in the tribe chat, oh I’m voting for Julia. Hwuxixkejwor this is actually so funny. I’m idoling elles ass out tonight and feeling absolutely no remorse

Elle

Not Julia coming for me within an inch of my life and then denying it 💀💀💀.

Moth

Holy fuck

I literally leave for 20 minutes and suddenly people are arguing and demanding tribal happens now Like noooooooo I hate this so much I need to do an exam in 20 minutes

DeNara

What in the actual F is happening. All I was doing was trying to get ready for work and Julia just full on started calling everyone out. Apparently Rachel tried to make an alliance with Julia and included me in on it, then Julia sent that to Raffy. So I had to try and do damage control and try and get Rachel to stop talking to Julia. THEN apparently Julia tried to frame Elle as trying to plot against Ginny which isnt true and now EVERYBODY is fighting in the tribe chat. Like this is so crazy rn. I just hope me playing the middle doesn't heck me over. I may need to ditch one side to save my game.... rip me

Anastasia

This isn't really my drama. I am a spectator and my name is out of peoples mouths which is perfect. I really don't understand what just happened. Like I saw Julias and Ginnys texts but I don't understand what it means lol. I will probably quietly ask around what people thought of it and vote with them as to lay low and stuff. Don't worry, I am going to plan to get someone threatening out soon. I'm still new at this and I'm learning everyday what to say and what not to say. But hopefully I can try to convince people to get out my target (raffy) next round. He really needs to go because he dominated the last org. He is too good at this game and if people ignore that he literally won half of the challenges and the entire game last org they are dumb. Luckily we have Rachel that keeps winning immunity so none of the actual targets get it. But of course, this is a concern. Rachel might have to go at some point sadly.

Julia

https://youtu.be/8EPTKjTqKFQ

Elle

Okay... so today I decided to pop off a bit (may be related to me being a little Done with irl stuff but that's not what this is about lol). Ginny came into our alliance with Moth DeNara and Rachel (we have another one without Rachel bc she's kinda on Julia's side/helped kick James off/p sure she knew what Anastasia's beans did and lied to us so she's very sus but we're keeping her close for now) and guns blazing was like "so I heard all of you were gonna vote me off" to which i was like ?? and then she said Julia told her I was a ringleader convincing everyone to vote Ginny out which. Incorrect. My now one and only goal in these games is to get Julia out and avenge James that's IT 😂 . And I have told so many people today but 👏🏽I👏🏽Am👏🏽Too👏🏽Dumb👏🏽To👏🏽Be👏🏽Conniving👏🏽. The idea that I could be a ringleader is hilarious honestly, and the idea that I would vote for anyone except Julia until she's out even more so. Anyway, I went into the tribe chat and said "So I've heard that there's a question as to who I'm voting, or who I'm endorsing, so I just want to clarify: *I'm voting for Julia* that is all ^_^" bc all I have is my word and the fact that I'm voting for Julia isn't a secret or anything lol. This got things very spicy at 11am and I'm sorry for everyone that had a class or job 😂 including me lol. me? missing an entire half of my class because survivor drama is way more interesting than typography? it's more likely than you think! We didn't end up having tribal right then and there even though I think about half of us were yelling for it 😂 (sorry again for the people at work or school idk why i woke up today and chose violence ajkjakhlalsjsj) We got on call with Julia to give us receipts but eh I don't trust it At all. Mostly because the receipts she gave weren't on the same stuff we were talking about??? Like she was calling out Raffy and Steven in them but that's not even where the convo started 😒. And nothing about how I'm this all-powerful ringleader trying to shoot someone down from my original tribe. I have to laugh. Anyway, I hope she goes tonight, if not it better be me bc this is getting 🎶frustrating🎶 and l am a complete angel until you talk shit about me or one of my closest allies and then you better be prepared for war it's that simple 😇

Moth

Julia claims that I refuse to talk to her when she legit hasn’t even reach out at all since the swap- like o k my dude- Jesus this is nuts

Julia

Why are people so obsessed with me 🤩

They really started a whole fight with me in the tribe chat today. It’s honestly super frustrating. But I think this could be good for me maybe? I think Elle is getting idoled out tonight, and then Ginny is still here. And Ginny has proved she’s a liar and a snake and is really chaotic so maybe she’ll be seen as a liability going forward

Gian

Rachel is trying to flip. Julia & Ginny are dangerous blabber mouths. The warriors won't take out one of their own and we still barely have majority. This is getting messssssssssy.

Madi

hey hey so heres the tea rachel is being a mf snake because she feels “betrayed” bc we “lied” to her for the pietro vote but like sis..... we didn’t LIE we just left out some details also have now tried to pin onto her that she has the other idol also so much tea went down while I was at work??????? it was pretty spicy but im just happy my name was nowhere near that I hope rachel does not start working with juli bc that would truly suck but having elle and moth and anastasia as numbers for us is very very good also anastasia has kinda gone AWOL and idk how much longer we are going to be able to keep her in too much longer but thats another story for another time I am scared people are starting to murmur my name, I might just be paranoid but Idk I hope this julia vote goes well

Raffy

This morning, Elle took to the tribe chat to confirm that she is voting Julia. This is because, according to Ginnifer, Julia has been telling Ginnifer that Elle was trying to ring leader Ginnifer's vote out. Ginnifer also got in on the action by saying that Julia is a liar and trying to snake other people. As it turns out, Ginnifer might just be paranoid, but, at the end of the day, whatever makes the target on Julia bigger.

Steven

https://youtu.be/2NGxkNjrGdk

Rachel

this game is so mentally draining. even if i've won immunity, i certainly don't feel safe. julia blew up the game by telling secrets, and it hurts cause i felt like i could trust her. i hate that i'm seeing viewing this game so personally, but i feel that i have lost such an epic battle and it is so frustrating.

Elle

Still the same tribal in a little less than an hour... I feel like I went a lot wild today, sure hope it isnt enough for everyone to switch and vote me out 🤷🏽‍♀️ I very well might be next after Julia though, or that's the paranoia. Idk, I miss pre-merge when I was just playing games with friends and not going to tribal 😂. Now it feels like a Lord of the Flies or Danganropa RPG and I feel like I let the craziness get to me a little. I don't know what's gonna happen, but I don't really ever know really. I'm tired 😅 and want to maybe read some fanfic before whatever happens next (maybe I'll have a lot more time to read fanfic after this lol).

DeNara

Seems like this morning's craziness is calmed down a lot to the point of making people nervous because it is so quiet. I am hoping the plan is still to vote out Julia, but I am sad she is going. I do like her a lot as a person. Hopefully she doesn't take any of this personally!