#but it all feels so like... disconnected from everything else we got

[fagoutboy]

the more ive sat and thought about it the more dissatisfied i am with that doctor who finale

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

I don't think Buddy asks Helio any questions.

Kristen asked 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' because she believed in all the good things she was taught, but noticed the strange disconnect between the world as it was and the world as it was taught to her. So she thought, surely, if I can't come up with the answer, Helio will have it. And she hates him for dodging her question.

Buddy is far more deluded than Kristen ever was. And he is far, far angrier inside as a result, even if he deliberately conceals this fact from himself to protect himself from the inevitable mental breakdown this would cause. Buddy is not as altruistic and giving and caring as Kristen is. He wouldn't question why he was betrayed or dig into a question like 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' Those aren't the answers he needs, because of course he'd be betrayed by someone outside the church, that makes perfect sense. Of course bad things happen to good people, we simply live in a fallen world.

Or, well. He used to live in a fallen world. Now he's dead here. In Helio's divine domain.

I think Buddy, as he wanders through fields of corn to the big farmhouse where Helio is chilling out, privately thinks about the fact that Kristen Applebees' horrified expression was the last thing he ever saw before a sharp pain in his throat. I think Buddy assumes Helio knows he's thinking this and apologizes for bringing thoughts like that into paradise. I think he thanks Helio for recognizing his devotion and bringing him here once he died and dutifully deceives himself about his own rising emotions at contending with the fact that he's dead now.

After all, he was raised to die. He was raised to want to die.

To want to be here with his god whenever it was he called Buddy to him. So he doesn't feel upset, no, of course not. He's just a little surprised at how sudden it was. (How completely random. How unceremonious and unfair.) He's a little bit worried how his grandparents would react to the news is all. (He cracks a joke that maybe he'll see them here shortly after they do get the news. He doesn't laugh at it.) He had his own plans for how he'd spread the good word in life, but of course, Helio had other plans. (Nothing Buddy ever wanted really mattered. He knew that, he knew the will of Helio was the real thing that mattered, and everything else was just a small list of preapproved extracurriculars in the syllabus of his life.)

He can't be upset about this.

He shouldn't be upset about this.

This is his reward.

This place and these people and this god are his reward for a life of service and devotion and walking in the light.

It's not his place to be upset about his own reward. Kristen got upset when she went to heaven, when she met Helio, and look where that got her.

Look... look where that got her.

He thinks he hates her. For looking at him like that. All the ways she looked at him. Like he was something pitiful and contemptible. Someone she needed to threaten away from her little brother. Someone she has to double and triple check if he's going to revive her when he's under magical oath to do just that or lose his connection to a divinity she threw away after being chosen.

And then. In that last moment, she looked at him and he saw grief and horror and caring. Like his death was awful and unfair and tragic.

And he thinks maybe he hates her for that. For challenging him every conversation they had and looking at him like she knew something he didn't. Like she was above him. Like killing your own god twice in life is a preferable fate to living for the promise of eternal sunlight and cornbread in death. A promise which was kept to him.

Kristen was promised to Helio, too.

And he can't unsee her face. He can't move along and focus on what truly matters (Helio, the church, spreading the word, doling out divine punishment when needed) because he's reached the end. There is nothing left. Only this bright sunny cornfield and a god who... is nice. And who cares about him, personally. He got Buddy's name wrong the first and only time they held audience.

He thinks he hates Kristen, and he hates that that hatred isn't immediately squashed out of his soul just by being here. In paradise. Where he belongs. Where every follower of Helio belongs. Where he never has to have anyone look at him the way Kristen did ever again.

I don't think Buddy Dawn asks Helio any questions. Because how do you ask the god you devoted every waking minute of your life to, 'Why do I hate it here? Why does this feel like hell?'

(There's a part 2 now that the next ep is out >:3)

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy (part 2) | jayce talis x female reader

2.6k words

content: fawk it!! part two to jayce making reader a vibrator with hextech but it’s even more angst, even more dirty, and even longer than part one. enjoy!!

notes/warnings: 18+ minors dni, fingering + oral (female receiving), some sub/dom references, jayce whimpering + forced to watch (MWAH HA HA HA), jayvik quote reference bc i love them with my entire heart. let me know if i missed anything!!

ps: thank yall for reading wtf, i’ve only been on here for like a month and it’s been so sweet so thank yall. let me know your guesses for how this ends- sad or sweet?/?/? do they finally get everything out on the table... who knows!! - amethyst 💟

series masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You weren’t sure how long you’d slept for, but the steady circling of Jayce’s hand on your back was enough to make you want to stay there forever. The mirth quickly left you; that urge to remain with him was a weakness. You’d never let yourself feel bliss like this…it’s a one-way trip to hurt. He felt you begin to stir and pulled his arm away reluctantly.

“Welcome back to reality. We missed you here for a good,” Jayce glanced at his watch, “hour or so. Must’ve been a great power nap.”

You stretched a bit, “It was great.” You glanced toward his workbench, yawning, searching for anymore tricks up his sleeve. “That little invention of yours is even better, though.”

Jayce was back to his usual sheepish self, it was clear.

“Thanks.” Simple, concise.

You moved a bit, eyeing the man who’d been observing your every move. He noticed the way your gaze motioned up a bit, searching for something in your mind.

“You okay?”

A brow raised toward Jayce, “You cleaned me up?”

He was blushing again, then. That color splayed on his skin was one you’d come to love…no…like. You wished you were a sort of artist at that moment. You’d draw him all the time, the only constant being the lines around his soft smile and a tint across his face.

He shrugged, “Hygiene is important.”

You rose from the cushion of the seat, deliberately letting the blanket he’d given you fall.

“Such a gentleman.”

He looked you over. He was constantly etching the details of your skin into his brain, since he’d never know when it’d be the last time. His stare lasted until he realized you’d been putting your clothes back on, covering the very intricacies he’d been studying. An irritated huff escaped him at that.

You approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re the sweetest, golden boy.”

“Hey,” his hand latched onto your wrist. He’d thought of you beneath him, how pliable you’d been when he took control. But the moment had passed as quickly as it came and he found himself no longer as willing to fight you. There was so much he wanted to say. He could only get out one thing.

“When can I see you next?”

His optimism was enough to shatter you. It pretty much did every time you saw him. But the reality was that you were from Zaun. When you left here, there was nothing truly left for you but to return to the Undercity.

As much as you’d like to believe that he understood you, that he wasn’t like everyone else in Piltover, there was always a disconnect. Whenever he’d let slip tales of his encounters with people from “down there” or referred to the collective as a “them,” you grimaced. The rhetoric was something you’d grown used to and you didn’t blame him for his upbringing.

It was just that you experienced this before. When you let yourself fall for a man a few years ago. A man with a lot of empty promises.

He swore to you that keeping your secret was the best thing for you both, a claim of protecting your love. But when you found out that he got married to another woman, one from Piltover at that, you knew it was a lie. Their beautiful kid was just the Shimmer on top.

So when Jayce looked at you with longing, vocalizing his need for you to at least return to him, you couldn’t. Despite the pieces of you shattering consistently—his attempts to glue them back together were futile. You liked the disfigurement. You liked the constant reminder that people fucking suck.

You maneuvered around him, ignoring the slump in his shoulders.

“So this thing, can I have it?”

He cleared his throat, “Oh- um- it’s not exactly…ready.”

“Seems ready to me.”

“It’s not.” He walked over, standing protectively in front of it.

“But I just came,” you whispered, “like all over you and it…”

“Well I wouldn’t say all over…” on his face would’ve been better.

“It got the damn job done,” you outstretched your hand immediately. “So can a girl have it or not?”

“Sorry, but no.”

“Please?”

“You cannot have my prototype!”

“But I will be so gentle with it! Trust me!”

“Like you trust me?” He scoffed. He’d meant that to sound like a joke. Albeit poorly timed, he had no ill will. The way your face contorted and erased any jovial tone from you was jarring.

You turned and left without a word, ignoring his calls and an exasperated groan that echoed behind you.

——————

You were gonna find that damn thing. Sure, Jayce had pissed you off, but you needed it now…needed him. So here you were, scouring every area you could think of. You were desperate and the embarrassment of being caught was worth it.

The space between you the last week only made you more crazy. Nothing you tried came close to that day. Regardless of the annoyance you felt by his comment, it got to a point where you weren’t even mad about that anymore. You’d grown furious that he didn’t seek you out. You were absolutely fuming that you couldn’t just see him and fuck the disgruntlement out of each other like usual.

You were stubborn. It seems after two years he finally learned to be just as so.

He cleared his throat behind you, startling you.

“Funny seeing you here. I was just um- looking for…something I left here.”

“And that would be?”

“Um…” you continued to trace your hands over the various objects thrown in his drawer. “Just…” and jackpot. “Just this.”

He smirked at your mischievous half-smile. You were clearly proud of yourself, but he planned for this.

“I’m glad your scavenger hunt paid off…but as I said…you can’t have my prototypes.”

“Jayce-”

He shook his head, slowly stepping towards you, “Unfortunately you’d need this.”

A glimmer of blue suddenly appeared between you two.

“Wow.”

You’d never actually seen one of these crystals so close up. Jayce went on and on about how fragile they were—how important it was for you to never touch any of his work things. Oops.

You two were closer now, the fluorescent orb the only barrier between you.

“Jayce, it’s beautiful.”

His look of fulfillment deterred for a brief second, no longer excited at the prospect of taunting you. He was staring directly at you now. The fondness in your eyes, a lack of tension he seldom saw these days. You were stunning. Sure, the magic in his hands was alluring, but nothing compared to you.

“Beautiful…right…it is.”

You rarely missed one of these moments between you and Jayce. In fact, you had yearned for one all week. You just couldn’t shake that little gremlin on your shoulder, though, that told you this was the perfect opening.

You pushed up a bit, teetering on your toes, and kissed his lips gingerly. Pushing him towards the nearest chair felt like muscle memory. It helped that he was as eager as you were, leading you towards the seat.

You made a spectacle of trailing down his arms, kissing his neck, and whispering how good he was being. You didn’t have to check, you knew he was already hard. Probably dripping too.

When you motioned to undo his pants, he instinctively leaned his head back, relaxing into the chair.

He’d felt a tightness around his wrist and a clink.

Without even looking he huffed. “I didn’t know you still had those.”

“A girl never goes anywhere without her state-of-the-art hextech handcuffs, does she?”

You’d slyly bound one of his arms to the armrest, yanking the blue ball from his palm. While moving to combine it with his little creation you couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

“So…what do we do for the golden boy when he’s…not so good?” You looked around the room as if waiting for a reply. “Oh, I know!”

You slowly sat on the chair across from him, kicking off a shoe at a time. Then your pants. His eye contact lingered on you as always. He remained silent until you’d just been in underwear, not bothering to take off anything above that.

“I think we need to have Talis watch until he learns to behave.”

“Fuck-“

“Tsk, already off to a bad start.”

You slowly traced your hands down, removing the last article of clothing between you. You chuckled a bit, flinging the underwear toward him.

In the second he’d taken to observe your panties at his feet, you finally started in on yourself. The vibration was as good as you remembered, better.

You rubbed yourself slowly, looking at Jayce’s jaw hang across the room, he eyes fluttering closed with a groan.

“Look at me, look at how wet I am.”

He lowered his eyes, a free hand grasping at himself.

You stopped abruptly, “Jayce…I’ll only do this if you keep your hands off the merchandise.”

He whined at that, a pleading look in his eyes. “Please…”

“Do you want me to keep going or not?” You’d waved the thing around for emphasis, like a damn teacher at the academy. He’d choked up even more, it already glistening with your wetness over it.

The silence and removal of his hand were enough for you to resume, “Good job, baby.”

The lowest level vibration was good. It had you in a constant bliss comparable to when Jayce first used it. You need more. A second later, the speed increased. A surprised yelp resounded from you, looking at the man across from you.

“You’re right. This is…how’d you say…intuitive?”

“Oh god…” The thought of his creation working seamlessly for you had him weak. He’d put a lot of work into this, and watching was making him insane.

“You’re so smart, baby.” You sped up the circles on your clit, “nobody could make me feel like this.” The sensation increased on you again, your back meeting the couch, hips writhing towards the air and into the forsaken device. You were sure this type of goodness had to be illegal.

You couldn’t see him anymore, but the gasping from him spurred you on. You reached two fingers as best you could into you, but your arms were so short.

“Mmm…Jayce,” you called his name repeatedly. Needing that one particular sound from him. When a whimper finally echoed from him, you peaked to see a tear drip from his eye. His hand clawed at his chest and neck, finding no release at the ache in his pants.

He begged, then, “Please, please, please.”

You continued your increasingly quick rubs on yourself, breathing out your reply, “We both know you could get out whenever you wanted.”

It was true, but he was so caught up in you. The sound, the view, the euphoria filling his body. He made prototypes for a reason—each model requiring an escape or fail-safe only he knew. How stupid would it be to be trapped by my own tech, he’d thought.

With a swift pull, he was free, large strides booming towards you.

“Fuck, I need you so bad, sweetheart.”

He looked down and swatted your fingers away, replacing them with his own. The way he utilized his dexterity always shocked you. Pulses of his fingers softly rubbing inside of you made you incoherent. He observed your rubbing get frantic and off rhythm.

He slowly pulled his fingers from you, the absence painfully aware to you.

“Say it again,” the man urged. He’d even stopped your work on yourself.

“Wha- say what?” You were insatiable, this wasn't the time.

“That nobody could do this…make you feel this way.” He stared up at you, his lids half closed.

You reached out to him, a thumb falling under his eye. You softly wiped the tears from his cheeks, moving the rogue piece of hair out of his face.

“You did so good, Jayce.” You paused, thinking this was a boundary you shouldn't dare cross. Reason was far, though, completely out of your grasp. “There’s nobody. Nobody in this time or the next that could be as good as you are to me.”

The true weight of your statement was apparent for you both. It wasn’t just about how your bodies molded to each other, but rather the way you understood each other outside of this.

So he had to ask.

“You’re sure?”

“I trust you.” A light flashed in your eyes, “only you.”

There wasn’t much to be said, then. He immediately took hold of your wrist, urging you to start again. He simultaneously latched his mouth onto you, slurping you up like he was fucking famished.

Your hand cramped a bit, but you knew he had you. Not a beat was missed as he took the small vibration and turned it up to the max, jutting your clit up and down between you.

Your breath was gone. Between his strangled moans and the pure pleasure you were feeling, all you could do was grip at his hair.

“Jayce, please-“

He didn’t say much, just the sound of his mouth reverberating into you filled the room. The feeling of him whining made your eyes fall back. He knew this was a lot, but you deserved it.

“I can’t believe it…my sweet girl…finally using her words.”

He mumbled an apology for the break in sensation, reaching for your hand. He allowed the sensation of the couch in front of him to press into him, just enough to get him towards relief.

His mouth and hand found a pace that had you finally letting out the pressure that built inside of you. You shrieked, Jayce still sucking on you; he wanted every last drop of you. This was reward enough for him today.

He rose, seeing the dazed look on you, tears dripping from your eyes. He made sure to kiss them away on each side, the sting on his lips refreshing.

You leaned up on your elbows, nodding for him to get down beside you.

“Your turn-“

He motioned down, “Oh, I’m good actually.” The flower-like color found his face again.

“You never could last, golden boy.”

He pulled off the layers on him, laying down next to you in nothing. “You know I hate that…the golden boy thing.” He pulled a blanket over the two of you.

“You only hate it because of expectations,” you yawned and mumbled the rest to him. “You want to be a role model…I get it.” You turned to snuggle with him. “But there’s a sort of beauty in imperfection…”

He let the words linger in the air for a second. The ease with which you’d dropped such a profound idea in his lap was customary for you.

You’d changed his outlook on life, truly. It was why he’d secretly started working on something with the council. The distinction between Zaun and Piltover was something that needed a change. If not a complete overhaul, at least efforts made at integration. He wanted you to feel safe seeing him; the thought of you sneaking here every time physically ailed him.

But when he heard the breathing coming from you—he figured his brain had suffered the torment of him enough for one day.

You jolted awake a bit later. Jayce was asleep, snores emanating from his mouth. The sound was devastatingly sweet.

You slipped from him, quickly putting on your clothes. You didn’t want to do this. Not again. Not to him. But you truly couldn’t help it. If there was any tether between you and Jayce Talis, you’d rip it away every time.

With a sullen look, you turned to him again. You wished you could see his eyes now, having taken their studying of you for granted. You could only analyze his hair lying over his face, or the flare of his nostrils as he slept. It was certain, that whatever you couldn’t burn into your brain now would be lost forever.

Like you said, you weren’t an artist. You wished you were. You’d copy this sight in its entirety, because you were never coming back.

part three

[honeytae]

synopsis: what happens when your relationship falls apart, and the connection you’ve been missing has been right in front of you all along? based off the song call me when you break up by selena gomez, benny blanco, and gracie abrams.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mc has sm anxiety in the beginning, SO MUCH YEARNING, breakup scene, friendship tension & mixed signals between besties, confessions, K I S S I N G!

the apartment feels too quiet, the humming of the refrigerator only momentarily breaking the stillness. you sit on the couch, stretching your leg into the late afternoon sunlight spilling across the floor, but it doesn't feel warm.

you can hear your boyfriend shuffling into the room, his footsteps faint but familiar. you know him so well, and yet, in this moment, you feel like you're on opposite sides of an invisible wall. it's the little things—the way your conversations have become one-sided, the way his laugh no longer feels like home.

you’ve been meaning to talk to him, but the words keep getting stuck in your throat. it's strange, really, how everything in your life can feel so right on the surface and yet... nothing seems to fit anymore.

it wasn’t supposed to be this way, but here you are. sitting across from the person who’s supposed to mean everything to you, feeling disconnected. you shift your gaze to glance at your boyfriend, his eyes focused on his phone, and the emptiness inside you deepens.

how did it get to this?

you can’t even remember when things started to feel... off. maybe it was a few months ago when you started noticing how your conversations with him—taehyung—felt more real, more alive than anything you shared with your boyfriend.

you glance at your phone, hoping to see a message notifcation from tae. when you open your text conversation, you note that the last time you received a text from him was over a week ago. you sigh, tossing your phone across the sofa in frustration.

taehyung’s presence decreased in your life when you both started dating other people. despite your constant reassurances, your partners were never fond of how close you were to him, and vice versa.

tae had broken up with his ex a few months ago, but was still keeping his distance. you imagine it’s to be respectful of your relationship, but you’d be lying if you said you don’t miss him.

your heart stops as your boyfriend looks up at you, then at the quiet space between you both. you can feel it now—the unspoken distance. it’s there, heavy in the air, thick like smoke that’s hard to clear.

“you good?” he says, his voice low. it’s almost like a question he’s afraid to ask, as if he already knows the answer.

you swallow hard, the weight of the words you’re about to say pressing down on your chest. it's been coming for a while, and now you can't pretend any longer. the distance, the silence—it’s all too much to ignore.

“i’ve been thinking,” you begin, your voice shaky as you try to make sense of what’s in your head. “i think we need to talk.”

he looks at you, his expression shifting just slightly. he’s not angry—not yet—but there's something that tightens in his eyes. he’s bracing himself, but you can tell he didn’t expect this.

“i’ve been distant,” you continue, the words falling out in a rush. “and i can’t keep pretending like i’m not. i don’t know how to fix it, and i don’t even think i want to. i’m not sure how we got here, but i... i can’t keep living in this place where we’re both holding on to something that’s slipping away.”

there’s a long silence after that. he doesn’t say anything right away, just looks at you, his eyes searching yours. it’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something more—something that will make it all better.

but there’s nothing else to say.

finally, he exhales, a long breath that feels heavier than it should. “i thought something was off,” he says, his voice quieter now. “but i didn’t want to push it. i kept telling myself it would get better, that we’d figure it out.”

your heart aches at the words, but you know they’re true. you haven’t been there for him in the way he deserves.

“i’m sorry,” you say, the words feeling too small to express everything you want to say. “i should’ve said something sooner. i should’ve been honest.”

he shrugs, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “it’s not your fault,” he mutters, but his words don’t offer any comfort. “it’s just... we’ve both been somewhere else for a while now, and i don’t know how to reach you anymore.”

the truth hits you in a way you weren’t ready for. you feel the sting of it—because you’ve been avoiding it for so long. the truth is, you’ve already checked out. you just didn’t have the courage to face it until now.

“i’m sorry,” you say again, but this time, it doesn’t feel any easier.

he leans back slightly, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the conversation is settling on him too. “so... that’s it, then? this is what you want?”

you want to say something else, but you can’t. you’re not sure what else there is to say. you’re not even sure what you want. the feeling of being stuck has drained you, and now, with the reality of it staring you in the face, you realize you’ve already been gone for so long.

“i think... yeah,” you finally say, your voice quieter than you expect.

there’s a beat of silence where neither of you moves. you know it’s over, but you don’t know exactly how to close the door on something that was once so real.

“that taehyung must’ve got in your ear good, huh?”

the words cause heat to wash over your whole body, eyebrows furrowing in anger. you instantly go on the defense, like you always do when he tries to put tae down.

“what the fuck was that?” you ask, your voice shifting from your previous soft tone into an icier one.

“nevermind,” he raises his hands in surrender, and you pin him to the couch with your harsh glare.

thankfully, he doesn’t dare to say anything else.

you’re pissed, but knowing he’s not worth another fight, you get up to pack your things and let yourself out of his place without another word.

since the breakup, you’ve figured out the logistics and had your space to think, but nothing seems to fit right. you’ve stayed busy, tried to move on, but the emptiness lingers. you know you can’t keep pretending to be okay when you’re not.

and, if you’re honest with yourself, you miss taehyung. his absence feels like the one thing you haven’t been able to ignore.

it’s late when the sound of a knock at your door catches you off guard. you glance up from your social media doom-scrolling, frowning slightly.

you pull yourself up from the couch and move to answer it, your heart quickening in anticipation. when you open the door, you don’t expect to see him standing there—tae, looking like he just stepped out of your daydream.

“hey,” he says, his voice light but warm, though there’s a subtle vulnerability in his eyes that you don’t remember seeing before. “can i come in?”

you blink, surprised but not unwelcome. “uh, yeah... sure. of course,” you manage, stepping aside to allow him space in your small foyer.

tae steps inside, his damp jacket hanging off his shoulders, and you realize it’s still raining lightly outside. his presence fills the space, comfortable and familiar.

“so... this is where you’ve been hiding,” he says, his tone teasing as he glances directly at the copious amount of blankets bundled up on the sofa in your living room. “or nesting, i guess.”

you chuckle a little, a sound that feels foreign but nice. it’s been a while since you’ve laughed at anything. “yeah, whatever,” you retort, half-smiling. “how about you? you been doing okay?”

tae shrugs, a half-grin on his face. “i mean, i’ve survived. but i’ve definitely missed you.”

you raise an eyebrow, surprised by the honesty in his words. it’s as if he’s picking up on the fact that you’ve both been circling around something, and now, in this moment, it’s easy to bring it up.

“well, you were the one who pulled away, remember?” you try to joke, but it’s strained.

tae’s eyes drop to the floor for a moment, guilt flashing in his gaze. “i know,” he says quietly, then meets your eyes. “i just... didn’t want to make things more complicated.”

you take a breath, the words already tumbling out before you can stop them. “i could’ve used some company, you know. we broke up.”

taehyung’s eyes go wide, almost comically so. his neck moves forward, eyes hardening as he assesses the situation in a totally different light.

“he broke up with you? what the actual fu-”

“no, i broke up with him,” you cut him off before he can spiral any further, but the words feel strange. like they don’t belong in the same sentence as him. “a few weeks ago, actually.”

tae blinks, surprised, and steps closer, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. “you did? what happened?”

you can hear the concern in his voice, but there’s something else too. something almost like relief, like he’s been waiting for you to say it.

“i don’t know. it didn’t feel right,” you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i couldn’t keep pretending, tae. not to him, and not to myself.”

he’s quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. you can see the soft flicker of understanding in his eyes, and for once, you don’t feel like you have to explain it at all.

finally, he steps forward and wraps you in a hug. it’s not tight, but it’s everything you need in that moment—comfort, acceptance, and, above all, understanding. he doesn’t say anything for a while, but when he pulls away, his gaze softens. “i’m sorry you had to do that. i know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

you nod, the weight of it all crashing down now that you’ve finally said it out loud. “i think i was just scared. of choosing the wrong thing. of making the wrong decision. i don’t know,” you trail off, shrugging your shoulder in defeat.

tae’s fingers brush against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth of his touch, grounding you. “you don’t have to worry about that now,” he pauses, his voice becoming quieter, almost tender. “you’re here. that’s what matters.”

you meet his eyes, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s paused—like it’s just the two of you. you can feel the shift happening. the space between you both feels smaller now.

you take a breath, your voice low. “i missed you so much, tae.”

the words slip out, vulnerable and raw.

he smiles softly, his hand moving to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “i missed you too,” he says quietly. “more than you know.”

you smile, casting your gaze over to the couch in your living room. you grasp his hand, pulling him beyond the foyer and back to your couch. “c’mon.”

“you’re inviting me into your fort?” he teases, following your lead, although he knows your apartment like the back of his hand.

you roll your eyes at him as you both settle into the sofa, falling into a comfortable silence. it’s not awkward. it’s the kind of quiet that’s been long overdue.

neither of you is rushing to fill the space, but there's a palpable shift in the air—something deeper than just friendship, but neither of you is ready to call it out yet.

“i’ve been thinking about what you said before,” you say after a beat, voice soft but honest. “about giving me space.”

tae looks at you, his gaze intense, but there’s something comforting in it. “yeah?” he says quietly, though there’s an undercurrent of hope in his tone. “and?”

you can feel your chest tighten as you take a breath, trying to gather the courage. there’s a heaviness in the air, but it’s not just the weight of silence. it’s the weight of the truth, lingering between you both, waiting to be acknowledged.

“i don’t want that,” you say quietly, breaking the silence, your voice softer than you intended. “i miss us, tae.”

he doesn’t say anything right away. he just glances at you with that look, the one that’s always made your heart skip. “i know,” he says after a beat, his voice low and calm. “me too.”

you swallow, suddenly feeling vulnerable, like you’ve just exposed a part of yourself you didn’t mean to. you want to look away, but you don’t. you hold his gaze, and for the first time, you realize how much you’ve been holding back.

“i’m sorry,” you say, suddenly overwhelmed by the gravity of everything. “i’m sorry for letting it get this far without saying anything.”

tae shakes his head, a small, bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “there’s no need to apologize.” he looks at you, his gaze steady. “we both knew, didn’t we? it was just... easier not to face it.”

you close your eyes for a moment, your chest tight with everything you’ve been holding in. but now, in this space, with him sitting right in front of you, you realize there’s no point in running anymore. it’s here. it’s real.

when you open your eyes again, you can see it in his. the way he’s looking at you now—soft, vulnerable, and completely open.

his lips are close to yours, but neither of you moves just yet. it’s like time is standing still, giving you both a chance to breathe, to let the words you’ve been avoiding finally come to light.

“you’re really sure?” he asks, his deep voice thrumming right through you.

you nod, humming your affirmation as your eyes try to memorize each detail of his face.

and then, it happens. without another word, you close the distance.

his lips find yours gently, almost hesitantly at first, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t. instead, you melt into the kiss, the warmth between you growing, soft and steady, like everything is finally falling into place.

when you pull away, your breaths are shallow, but there’s no more fear, no more uncertainty. there’s only peace. a quiet understanding that this moment, this feeling, has been waiting for both of you to acknowledge it.

“maybe we should have done that sooner,” you whisper, a half-laugh escaping your lips.

tae chuckles, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “maybe,” he agrees softly. “but it’s not too late, is it?”

“definitely not,” you smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

auther’s note: i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, although the breakup scene almost took me out entirely (it has been close to a decade since i broke up with someone so it was extremely difficult to tap back into that ancient history!)

this is the first installment of the i said i love you first series. i am so excited to share this universe with you all <3

[goomyloid]

Can you tell me about your dt player. Since from the way you portray them they aren’t meant to be you. Kinda your oc in a way huh. It’s a cool depiction so that’s why I’m curious.

well today is your lucky day because i literally just filled out this chart right before answering this:

basically my version of them is thoroughly mentally disconnected from all consequences, because everything is just a game to them.

apathetic with only the desire to see what happens, and what becomes of kris and noelle (in the weird route). They always just barely have the upper hand; if things don't proceed down a certain path (i.e. aborted weird route or something) it's only because they allowed for it to happen. kris is very smart, but 'our' knowledge just objectively surpasses theirs in every way. for the most part.

i guess if i had to describe them as a real-life player, it would be the kind of person that plays all the routes without feeling bad about it, someone that somehow doesnt feel as though they're entirely to blame for the story going this way. (they taunt kris over this, maybe just to pick at their brain to get a look of how they're feeling about all of this.)

after all, deltarune is a game. it's meant to be played, it's only natural that people will want to pick it apart inside and out with its level of popularity. nothing should make a player feel bad about playing the game that they bought and spent time on.

regardless of one's investment in the characters, the world is simply not real to us. but in terms of vessel specifically talking to kris or something, it's not like THEY'RE the one saying "kris you're not real lol" or anything like that, it's more so their existence as a 'watcher' of sorts outside the bounds of comprehensible reality renders them in a similar position as us, someone in control and free from any consequences (presumably), letting kris and co. take the brunt of all your wrongdoings.

there's all of that, but i also like to portray them as being more on the extreme side, going as far as to treat characters fictional even when said character is standing right in front of them.

the 'commodification' of noelle plays into this a lot i think. we haven't seen it much in game so far, but we get the implied player attachment to her via treating kris as a self-insert of sorts just so you can get weirdly, creepily close to and controlling over noelle. it comes off more as vessel only wanting to be close to noelle and kind of discarding kris, just like they once were (lol).

the player's funny little fixation on noelle definitely throws a wrench in things kris-and-noelle-relationship wise, because this Thing is masquerading as kris, and noelle (and maybe toriel to a degree) is the only person able to tell something's wrong. it's almost like Hikaru Ga Shinda Natsu in a way -- your friend has been replaced, and you're the only person to notice just because you know them so well. it comes down to noelle's heart and ability to see through whatever vessel throws at her, if she'll be able to reach her hand out and save kris from sinking away before it's too late.

ummm. im getting off track. got too krisellepilled for a sec. VESSEL. i'm definitely not immune to portraying them more lightheartedly sometimes, but when I do that, it's usually in game, more so showing up as the soul instead lol

they're still sarcastic and blunt and weird, but at least they're not crazy destructive and sociopathic. gotta tone it down for the sillies

anyway i think thats all i can think of to say at the moment, if i think of something else big i might add it in a reblog, idk lol. thank you for asking, sorry about the long post!

[river-of-wine]

Molly O'Shea is Irish on purpose. Everything about her was written on purpose for a reason. I rattle on a lot about Irish identity in Red Dead, but it seems to only be taken into account when discussing Sean when it comes to the Irish characters, and that is to be expected when Sean talks about it the most. However, it is a relevant part to every Irish character in the game. The O’Driscolls more as a unit, as we’ve only got two named members of that gang who aren’t just there to shoot you and be shot, but it’s still immensely important to recognise when discussing them and how they function, operate and exist. It’s important for Colm, and why he pronounces his name like that, his rejection of his Irish identity in favour of assimilating more with America, presenting himself as an American man, whilst taking advantage of the disenfranchised men from his same background and exploiting them just the same. It’s important for Kieran, even with his own disconnection from his culture and how out of place constantly seems to be. And it’s important for Molly. They’re all Irish on purpose. There was a choice made for this character, for every character who falls into any kind of vulnerable class in this country, in this time, in this society. There’s a reason why Dutch van der Linde - who willingly uses the exploitation and genocide of Native Americans to further his own goals, who runs a gang full of people indebted to him with no choice, no safe, realistic options other than to depend on said gang for their survival and safety - is written to be in a relationship with a young Irish woman. Molly’s age tends to be the aspect of their imbalanced relationship most frequently examined, to the point where little else about the unbalanced scales of their dynamic is looked at in equal measure here. Yeah, it’s very weird how Dutch is about young women, and it’s pointed out by Molly herself, that she - a woman who is referred to on multiple occasions as a girl rather than a woman, who is older than Mary-Beth but still clearly young herself - is too old for him. Molly being young is important and intentional, but so is Molly being Irish. She is in an abusive relationship with an older man, but she is also in an abusive relationship with an American man, and this is as inseparable from their dynamic as her age is. This is 1899 America, and this is Dutch van der Linde. This is a man we know - especially with Red Dead Redemption in mind - will exploit the vulnerable and whose violence towards women is no secret. Molly is in this gang for incredibly different reasons from everybody else around her, and even in comparison to the other Irish gang members she is out of place, but functionally, she needs the gang just the same, and Dutch has made this young, vulnerable woman completely reliant on him, only to cast her aside and refuse to give her such basic respect as her first name when she becomes more trouble than she’s worth. He does not treat Molly like a person. He does not value her feelings or her needs, he will only give her any attention when it is done in his terms, the results of his emotional abuse and neglect are nothing more than inconveniences to him. He doesn’t respect her. He doesn’t value her. The woman he gawks at, the younger, more desirable woman he attempts to make a move on when Molly loses her appeal, is a young American woman. Mary-Beth is younger, yes, but she’s also American. Molly can never be younger, and she can never be American. Molly is the only Irish woman in the gang, and it is her that Dutch is in a relationship with, and it is her who is treated by Dutch the way she is. Inherently, Molly’s status as an Irish immigrant is built into both her character and this relationship. That was done on purpose. Her poem is written the way it is on purpose. Molly is Irish on purpose. Do you see what I’m getting at here? Am I making sense?

[arayapendragon]

shifting advice; pick a pile 🦋

pile 1 - indifferent, austerity, undisturbed  channeled song - ride by lana del rey 

"i'm tired of feeling like i'm fucking crazy,  i'm tired of driving ’til i see stars in my eyes, all i’ve got to keep myself sane, baby, so i just ride, i just ride”

everything's moving fast, everything’s changing. maybe you’re getting a little overwhelmed, that’s okay. you may not realise it, but you’re making quite a lot of progress. embrace the shift, be open to it - it will happen sooner than you expect and may even catch you off guard. it could happen when you least expect it. ground yourself and your senses into the world that so lovingly calls you home. trust. 

take a step back, what is your intuition telling you? don't ignore it, listen intently. you can be your greatest mentor in your shifting journey even if it may not feel like it. you are the one who will figure out what works for you, what helps you shift, what fits you right. you are the one who sets the foundation for your shifting journey, and no one else can do that. realize how powerful you are. the answers you seek lie within. reflect, ponder, journal, and soon you will find yourself in the land of your dreams. 

you've been through pain, you’ve seen hardships. don't beat yourself up for “failed” attempts, or for not waking up where you wanted to. let go of the past, it cannot be changed; it was there to teach you a lesson, to prepare you, to test your mettle. what's done is done, what’s gone is gone. you still have time, you still have potential. you'll make it. let go of the past, it cannot control you unless you choose to let it. rewire your past assumptions into those that are favourable. just feel, just exist, just be. you're human, be kinder to yourself. let yourself heal. don't let the pain hinder your journey. instead, redirect your focus to the more valuable aspects of your desired reality - your loved ones, or anything else. realize how much they will help you, how much they will heal you, the joy they will bring you, and use that realisation to ground yourself into your desired reality. 

be slow, be steady. you could either be the tortoise, or be the hare, its entirely up to you. commit, persist, devote yourself to your desired reality. every small step you take will build up to something greater, something tangible, something meaningful and worthwhile. starting now, everything you do will help you shift, regardless of how small it is. the work and effort will pay off. don't stop, just keep going on. your shift is near, emotional fulfilment and joy await you. stay hopeful, stay open. you will soon bear the fruits of your labour. 

pile 2 - aversion to faultfinding, nonviolence, expert  channeled song - roslyn by bon iver & st. vincent 

“up with your turret,  aren't we just terrified? shale, screen your worry, from what you won’t ever find, don’t let it fool you, don’t let it fool you, down”

maybe you’re feeling disconnected from your desired reality, or maybe you find yourself unworthy of shifting. you might even feel like you’re missing something that you need in order to shift. let me remind you, the aforementioned is nothing but a lie; it is nothing but your mind playing tricks on you, and your thoughts taunting you. you're not alone, you’re enough. the universe has your back, this hardship will not last. even if your desired reality feels distant, it is closer than you realize. you are connected, you are aligned. just keep going. 

your biggest mistake is not realizing your power. you’re manifesting all the time, you’re shifting all the time, so what’s stopping you from shifting to anyplace else? you are the creator of your reality, and that is how it will always be. you already possess the ability to shift, just step into your power and take control of your journey, stop letting it run on autopilot. be patient, be kinder to yourself. don’t be aggressive and rough, instead be gentle and soft. approach shifting with a nurturing, almost motherly energy. by showing yourself more love and care you will raise your vibrations and thus easily align with the energy of your desired reality. keep your mind clear, stop letting emotions and negative thoughts get to you. the mind likes to mess around with you, will you give it the power to do so? or will you take control and take yourself where your heart desires? it is foolish to give power to mere thoughts and emotions, which are, at the end of the day, nothing but temporary. let go of impatient, there’s no clock ticking, there’s no one timing your shift. it will happen but you need to let go of all the pressures and worries. be confident, your thoughts are powerful and if utilized the right way, can guide you into your desired reality. 

you're far stronger than how much you give yourself credit for. you don’t need to fight or battle monsters to shift, the shift is waiting for you, calling you lovingly into a gentle embrace. simply accept it, let it catch you when you fall, drop your weapons. go soft, go steady, stop being at war with yourself. trust yourself more, realize that you are what makes the shift happen, no one or nothing else. be stubborn, but not aggressive. you want to shift? then do. no one can stop you, no one can hinder your progress. even if someone doesn’t understand or support your desire to shift, that will not change anything. only you can make the shift happen. don't let doubts weigh you down. don’t get disheartened by temporary setbacks, just keep pushing, but be kind to yourself in the process.  pile 3 - silent, gravity, charity channeled song - outro by m83

"i'm the king of my own land, forcing tempests of dusts, i'll fight until the end,  creatures of my dreams raise up and dance with me! now and forever, i'm your king”

you need to be honest and sincere with yourself. are you procrastinating? pushing the shift away? thinking there’s something more you need, or that something is holding you back from shifting? are you resisting the shift? you may be self-sabotaging yourself without realizing it. align with your desired reality by being true to yourself, by reflecting on yourself and your actions. align with the higher version of yourself. step into your power. you already know what you need to know. now it is time to put in the work. be shameless, rid yourself of guilt. welcome the shift with open arms and an open embrace. you know what needs to be done. stop getting in your own way. give shadow work or journalling a try to understand why and how you’re hindering yourself from shifting. understand the root cause behind these actions. are you scared to shift? finding yourself unprepared to experience your desired reality? afraid things won’t go your way? let go of everything, take it down a notch. you have expectations, and that’s okay, but don’t let them get in the way or make them unrealistic. be grounded, be mature, be practical. you're not playing with toys, you’re building an empire. realize that you have the utmost power and ability to shift, to live the life you desire, to get what you want. take ownership of this ability. trust yourself more. maintain some discipline, bring some structure into your routine. consider making a shifting journal to keep track of each shift, to find what helps and what doesn’t, to delve into each attempt in a detailed manner. you are the creator, you are the boss. you are the puppeteer, controlling everything else. there's no divine timing, there’s no right time to shift. there’s no prophecy waiting to be fulfilled. the shift wasn’t meant to happen at a certain time. instead, it will happen whenever you want; whenever you let it happen, whenever you give it permission, when you allow it to come through. be confident in your ability to shift, you know about this for a reason. shifting wouldn’t have found you if it wasn’t meant for you. enough doubting, enough wavering. if you want things to change you must leap into action and stop letting insignificant little things get in your way. you have the passion, you have the vision, you have the potential. be bold, be brave, let your passion for your desired reality fuel the shift. you are ready, believe and let it happen. 

[chrissssssmut]

My Huh Yunjin...

Huh Yunjin x Yandere Male reader

(First ever requested fic! Hope u see this! Pls bare with me with the upload schedule 😭)

Huh Yunjin was perfect.

Everyone loved her.

She was the kind of girl who made people stop and stare when she walked into a room. The kind of girl who laughed like sunshine and made even the coldest hearts melt. Teachers adored her, classmates wanted to be her, and boys tripped over themselves just to get a second of her attention.

She wasn’t just beautiful—she was breathtaking. Unforgettable. The kind of girl who made the world feel like it revolved around her.

And she was your best friend.

At first, you were proud.

She stood beside you, smiling, talking, laughing. With you. No one else had that. No one else was as close to her as you were.

But then you started to notice—

She wasn’t just yours.

She had too many friends. Too many admirers. Too many people who thought they deserved a piece of her.

It made your skin crawl.

She was slipping away.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

So one by one, you took away everything that tried to pull her from you.

And slowly—bit by bit—her world fell apart..

It started with Yunjin’s first real crush, Lee Hyunwoo.

A quiet, charming boy from her class, he played the guitar and always lent her his jacket when she forgot hers. He was gentle, kind—safe.

One day, just when she worked up the courage to confess, Hyunwoo vanished.

"Expelled," someone whispered. "Cheating scandal. His whole family’s embarrassed."

It didn’t make sense. Hyunwoo was obsessively studious—he’d rather die than cheat. But the evidence was airtight. Someone leaked messages, screenshots, proof that he had stolen exam answers.

Yunjin tried calling him. Number disconnected. She messaged him. No response.

The only one who seemed to care was you.

"You’re better off," you had told her, sitting beside her on the school steps. "He wasn’t good for you anyway."

She sighed, leaning into you for comfort.

She didn’t see the victorious glint in your eyes.

Yunjin and Kazuha had been inseparable. They were more than best friends; they were sisters.

Then, suddenly, Kazuha moved away.

"She never told me she was leaving," Yunjin mumbled, scrolling through their old messages.

"Maybe she didn’t think you’d care," you replied.

Yunjin frowned. "Of course I care."

She called. No answer.

She checked social media. Kazuha was gone. Every account deleted.

Her parents wouldn’t tell her anything. It was like Kazuha had been erased from existence.

You sat beside her, stroking her hair.

"People leave," you whispered. "But I never will."

She sniffled, nodding.

She didn’t know that Kazuha’s departure was your doing.

She didn’t know you had threatened her.

Music was Yunjin’s life.

She had spent months preparing for the talent showcase—her shot at being scouted.

Two days before the event, she got the call.

"We received an anonymous tip that you plagiarized your piece. We can’t let you perform."

Her world shattered.

She sat alone in the empty auditorium, fingers shaking.

"Why does this keep happening?" she whispered.

You sat beside her, pressing a hand against her back.

"Maybe it’s a sign," you murmured. "Maybe you don’t need all that. You just need me."

Her throat tightened.

She didn’t know that the anonymous tip came from you.

That you had destroyed her chance at leaving.

Because if she succeeded, she’d go far, far away—away from you.

And that was unacceptable.

At first, Yunjin thought she was just unlucky.

But when everything crumbled—again and again—and you were always there afterward…

She finally saw the truth.

She connected the dots.

Hyunwoo.

Kazuha.

Her dreams.

All gone.

And the only constant was you.

Her heart pounded as she stared at you.

"You did this," she whispered.

You tilted your head. "What are you talking about?"

She stood up, shaking. "You—You ruined my life. Every time I had something good, it disappeared. Hyunwoo. Kazuha. My showcase. It was you, wasn’t it?"

Your expression didn’t change.

Then, slowly—you smiled.

"And if it was?"

Her breath hitched.

"You—"

"You were meant to be mine, Yunjin," you murmured, stepping closer. "I only got rid of the things that were taking you away from me."

Her stomach twisted.

"You’re crazy," she choked out.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, Yunjin. I’m in love with you."

She froze.

Your eyes darkened.

"And I won’t let anyone take you from me."

She ran.

She fought.

She lost.

You overpowered her easily, dragging her through the dark streets as she screamed for help.

Her fists slammed against your chest. She kicked wildly, nails clawing at your skin.

"LET ME GO!"

You pressed a cloth over her mouth, voice gentle.

"Shh, Yunjin. It’s okay. I’ve got you."

Her struggles weakened.

Her screams faded.

And when she woke up, everything was different.

At first, she thought she had escaped.

She woke up in her bed. Sunlight streamed through the window. She could hear birds. Smell coffee.

Relief flooded her.

"It was just a nightmare," she whispered.

She sat up—

Chains rattled.

Her wrists were tied to the bed.

The sunlight was just a lamp.

The birds were a recording.

The coffee was a candle.

She wasn’t home.

She was still with you.

Her breath quickened.

The door creaked open.

You stepped inside, smiling softly.

"Good morning, Yunjin. I hope you slept well."

Her heart stopped.

"This isn’t real," she whimpered.

You tilted your head.

"Of course it is," you murmured, brushing her hair back. "You’re home. Our home."

Tears streamed down her face.

"No, no, no—"

You pulled her into your arms.

"Hush, my love." you whispered. "You don’t have to worry anymore."

She tried to struggle, but you were stronger.

She begged.

"I’ll be your best friend forever! I promise! Just don’t—please don’t do this!"

You smiled.

"I don’t want to be just your best friend, Yunjin."

Your grip tightened.

"I want you to be mine."

She sobbed. You hated that sound.

You hit her. Hard.

Not enough to break anything—just enough to make her stop crying.

"Why do you do that?" you muttered, rubbing your knuckles. "I don’t like fucking hurting you. But you make me do it."

Yunjin bit her lip, swallowing her sobs.

Good.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small knife.

She stiffened.

"Shh," you whispered, pressing the tip against her skin. "I’m not going to kill you. I just…"

You pressed down lightly, watching as a thin line of red bloomed against her skin.

"Beautiful," you murmured, leaning down.

Yunjin shuddered as your tongue flicked across the wound, licking up the blood.

You sighed.

"You taste just like I imagined."

Her breathing was ragged.

"Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."

You smiled, cupping her cheek.

"Why would I ever do that?"

The television hummed in the background, and the news anchor’s voice filled the dimly lit room.

"Breaking news: Authorities are still searching for missing girl Huh Yunjin, who disappeared two weeks ago. Police suspect foul play—"

Yunjin’s breath caught in her throat.

You turned to the screen, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

"They’ll never find you," you murmured. Then, you turned back to her, your smile widening. "Because you belong to me, Yunjin."

Tears streamed down her face.

You hated that.

Your grip tightened around her face, fingers digging into her skin until it bled.

"You will never find freedom again," you growled, squeezing until she whimpered.

"You’re mine my love. Forever and always."

[littlxpxtal]

rafe notices your ticks and quirks, but always makes you feel better about them

“you know you do this thing” rafes words interrupts my swarming thoughts. I look down to my fingers and see a piece of skin on the edge of falling off my index finger. just one more pick.

“when you’re over thinking” his hand reaches across the armrest on top my hands, collapsing them from their original position to lay on my thigh under his heavy palm.

I glance up at him and he has a stern look on his face. his eyes flicker over towards me, just for a second, before he focuses back on the road.

“what’s got you thinkin this hard pretty girl?” he whispers softly. my eyes trail from his eyes down his face to his jaw, his collarbones peaking out of his unbuttoned shirt. then they trail off to his other hand on the wheel.

“did they” I stutter on my words and feel the urge to pick again. he gives a soft squeeze on my hands and they release their tension.

“did they like you?” he asks. my eyes dart towards the front window of the car, watching the street lights pass. I silently nod my head and hold my breath. he lets out a small chuckle.

“they loved you, baby” his hand lifts off my hands to hold my chin, his thumb grazing against my jawline.

“are you sure? I said that stupid thing about airplanes and then there was a whole commotion and I feel like I shouldn’t have even said anything”

he keeps his hand on my jaw, turning my head to face towards him.

“so what, you made a comment and it started conversation. that happens, right?”

“but it was negative conversation”

“it caused an intellectual debate. if anything, I think it was brave of you to bring up recent events . shows that you have a mind outside of this stupid bubble”

“I don’t know if I would say brave” I quip back. his hand releases from my jaw, and land back on top of my hands. he gives them another squeeze and shakes his head.

“well, I think the contrary. and so did everyone else. like I said, they loved you” he smiles at me and then looks back at the road.

I step into rafe’s car, and smile at the smell, leather, sandalwood, and aftershave. he holds my bag as I slide in, taking my drink from my hand and placing it in the cup holder.

“you sure you got everything?” he asks, giving a quick peck on my cheek.

I nod and smile into the kiss.

“I got you something” he mumbles against my cheek. I quickly turn, anticipation running through my veins immediately.

“wait is there a special day I forgot about?” he leans in and gives me another kiss while reaching into the back seat and pulling out a small gift bag.

“go ahead” he whispers. I jump up a bit on the passenger seat, and turn my body to face him. when I pull the object out, it’s still in the packaging before I realize what it is.

“no fucking way”

he smiles big but doesn’t say a word.

it’s a calico critter blind bag.

“Rafe you didn’t, I thought u hated these little things”

“I don’t hate em, sometimes they give me the creeps, but you like them so” he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lips his eyes flickering down at the package.

“which one do you want it to be?” and I ask, turning the package to the back to see the options.

“I was hoping for the lobster” he says. I gush internally over the thought of him at the store, checking out the bags and looking at all the creatures, picking out a favorite one.

“I kind like the one with the seashell purse” he smiles brightly at me, and I tear open the pack.

“okay, three, two, one!” I pull out the critter and to my surprise, races eyes light up and he lets out an excited laugh

“let’s fucking gooo!” he cheers out, holding my hand that now holds a lobster calico critter.

I look up and lean towards his face, we share a slow and soft kiss. his hand reaches up to brush hair behind my ear. our lips disconnect and he whispers,

“I thought you could, keep it in here. like how you do in your car?”

I smile against his mouth, giving him and hard kiss, brushing my tongue over his bottom lip.

“of course”

when we finally pull away, I put the package in the gift bag and place it near my feet. I prop the critter up on his dashboard, proud at the sight of Rafe’s new collection.

“what should we name him!” I ask, breaking the comforting silence.

“whatever you want princess” he responds, turning the car back on.

[kissedbyaphrodite]

Kyle Broflovski's got powers, and I don't see people talk about it

Okay so, I don't know if nobody's talked about this or if I'm just disconnected from the fandom. But just how many powers does Kyle Broflovski have!?!?!?!? Like, we see him having powers for the first time in The Tooth Fairy's Tats 2000 (season 4 episode 1) He develops not only Personal Existence Manipulation but also Reality Warping and some sort of Omnipresence and Higher Consciousness. He develops these abilities after he discovers that the tooth fairy is not real, and he starts to question the truth of all things, including his own existence. He begins to study various��philosophies about the nature of reality. (Wikipedia plot summary). In the end of the episode, Kyle disappears into thin air while questioning his own existence, but soon reappears wielding control over all reality, even becoming a half-chicken half-squirrel beast.

Then in Cartman's Incredible Gift (Season 8 episode 13) he shows/develops psychic abilities, after jumping of a roof in order to fake having an accident to develop psychic abilities (Since in the episode Cartman starts telling people he's a psychic after he jumped of a rooftop) In order to be taken seriously (Wikipedia page so you can read the summary). After everything's said and done, at the hospital, a fight breaks out between Cartman and the fake psychics, at which point Kyle gets annoyed and yells at them to stop, at which point the light bulbs in the room explode and a shelf becomes partially detached from its wall, spilling its contents on the floor.

In the episode It's a Jersey Thing (Season 14, episode 7) he has these "Transformations" that are obviously making fun of/Referencing werewolf transformations, but you know, I'm still adding them mostly since he does seem to be stronger in his "Jersey form" and more aggressive (Again, clearly both making fun of people from Jersey and Werewolves)

In Turd Burglars (Season 23 episode 8) he seems to be able to see/feel the microbiome of his entire body and everything else, having almost psychic dreams showing the bookcase in Tom Brady's house, which is actually a secret entrance to a basement where he has been hiding his faeces. In the end of the episode, the boys take those faeces and they're used to save the whole town (Again, you can read the episode's plot in Wikipedia to get a better summary of it). And when asked how he knew about, Kyle just says that his microbiome knew.

Like, just the implications of it have so much potential, I know the show doesn't follow a canon timeline, with many characters dying and appearing again later on, or the cannon in the games, show and movies being different, etc. But like, it's almost becoming a running gag with Kyle having powers (If we follow the logic of "One time is a X, two times is a Y, three times is a pattern"). Just imagine both Kyle and Kenny would become the only characters (To my knowledge) Who canonically have superpowers (Kenny's immortality).

I don't know, I just thought I'd talk about it.

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Eight

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (Wow, last chapter got such an amazing reception. So glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully you enjoy this update. I am hoping to get a few other fics updated in the next week or so but for now... enjoy ♥️)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

2 days earlier…

"Joel!" Anna called as Joel walked out from the lobby and into the hot, texas sunshine.

"Everything okay?" He asked as he took her in. From her stance, it was clear that she had been waiting for him although why she had wasn't clear to him.

"Yeah, I just... I wanted to talk to you about something." She said as she pushed herself off the wall she'd been leaning on "Kinda wanted to discuss it in private."

"What's up?" He asked, resting one hand on his hip whilst the other swung loosely as his side.

"Look, Joel... I'm just going to be straight with you." She started and Joel nodded.

"That would be great." He responded sarcastically, something Anna didn't pick up on when she giggled at his response.

"I like you." She replied plainly, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear as she walked up to him "I like you a lot and I wondered if perhaps you'd like to get a drink with me sometime?"

"Anna..." Joel trailed off, trying to find the nicest way to let her down "As flattered as I am…" He started as he gave Anna a sympathetic smile "I have feelings for someone else." He stated plainly.

"Oh." She replied, looking down at her feet a moment before taking a step back "Is it Pip?"

"It's complicated." Joel replied and that was all the confirmation that Anna needed.

"Why aren't you two together?"

"It's not my place to discuss this." He replied, "But I am in love with her and I cannot risk losing her."

"I think I have the right to know!" Anna demanded and Joel grew irritated at her tone.

"You're not entitled to know anything." He growled and she instantly looked guilty "I have a baby Anna. Things aren't simple for me right now but Pip and I, we are takin’ things slow."

Anna nodded, smiling sadly at Joel.

"You're a great gal Anna and I have no doubt you'll meet a great guy but... That guy ain't me darlin'."

"I understand." Anna said, stepping closer to Joel "You're a great guy. Pip's a lucky girl." She finished, quickly pecking him on the cheek.

The movement took Joel by surprise and his head snapped towards her, brows furrowed as he gave her a bemused look and then her lips were on his. In that moment his brain seemed to disconnect from the rest of his body. His whole body seemed to freeze, only the sound of Sarah crying seemed to allow Joel to escape from the icy prison his body seemed to be caged in.

His head quickly wiped to his right and there you stood, holding his crying daughter, looking utterly devastated. Tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Pip..." He mumbled as he looked at you, his heart, shattering at the sight of you crying.

You were then storming past him, and he jumped to attention, grabbing your elbow when passed him.

"Let go of me." You growled at him and he felt sick to the stomach.

"Pip please." He pleaded but your eyes turned from sad to firey in an instant.

"I need to feed YOUR baby Joel." You spat "So let. Fucking. Go. Of me."

He did as you asked and watched as you disappeared inside.

"Joel..." Anna said from behind him and he instantly felt his blood boil.

"Get the fuck out of here Anna." He growled, turning to face her with a face of thunder "Get the fuck out of here and don't show your face around here again."

"But-"

"No buts." He spat "You kissed me without consent... You're fired with immediate effect."

"You can't do that!" She squeaked and Joel laughed humourlessly at her.

"I can." He growled out, his eyes burning as he glared at her "Leave now and we might give you a reference." He snapped "But that's the best you're going to get from me."

...

Present day...

You hadn't spoken to Joel all weekend.

You had ignored his calls and hid upstairs when he'd knocked on your front door. You didn't want to see him or speak to him but unfortunately, there was no way you were going to avoid him in the office. You were dreading the inevitable grovelling. You couldn't care less what excuses he had for kissing Anna. He had promised you that he would wait for you.

He'd lied...

Your body tensed when you spotted Joel out of the corner of your eye, entering the office. Just like every morning, he had two coffee cups in hand and you braced yourself for his greeting only it didn't come. He placed the coffee on your desk and walked to his office. Not saying anything to you. He didn't even glance your way.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement but at the same time, you had no right to be upset about his lack of greeting. You were the one who had been ignoring him since the barbecue.

"Everything okay with you and Joel?" Simon asked a few hours later, having noted how if Joel had spoken to you it had been to the point. Preferring to leave notes if that was possible.

"Not really." You replied honestly, thinking it futile to try and state otherwise "Caught him kissing Anna on Friday at the barbecue."

"Huh." Simon replied, and this made your brows draw together.

"What?"

"Anna's been sacked." Simon replied "Apparently it was something to do with sexual harassment. Didn't go into detail, just said he'd sacked her with immediate effect."

"Oh."

"You sure he was kissing her back?" Simon asked you let out a humourless laugh.

"Yes... He was definitely kissing her back."

"You sure you didn't just see what you wanted to see?"

"You think I wanted to see that?" You growl at Simon and he let out a long sigh as he replied.

"You know that's not what I meant." He groaned "Shock can make us see shit that's not there. He fired her... makes you wonder if the kiss was consensual."

"I know what I saw Simon." You growled and he threw his hands up in surrender.

"Perhaps you should just hear him out." He said turning to walk back to his desk "Just think about it."

.

"Any messages?" Joel asked as he walked up to your desk and placed the shredding he needed doing.

"You sacked Anna?" You asked and Joel nodded "For sexual harassment?"

"Yes." He replied plainly.

"Right."

"Messages?" He asked again and you handed the few you had taken for him "Thanks."

"That it?" you asked as he started to walk away from you "Did you sack her because she kissed you?"

"What do you want from me Pip?" He growled "You ignored me all weekend. Hid from me when I came to your house to see you. I got the message. You want space… So I am giving that to you..." He trailed off "What more do you want from me?"

"I want to understand why." You choked, tears pooling against your bottom lids "Why tell me you'd wait for me then kiss her?"

"I didn't kiss her." He replied simply "She kissed me but I know you aren't going to believe me."

"Joel-"

"Because the fact of the matter is... you don't trust me." He continued "You're constantly looking for reasons for us to not be together."

"That's not true." You choked, watching Joel's hand as it scraped over his mouth.

"I don't have time to discuss this with you now Pip." He sighed "Can you shred all that for me when you have a chance. I need to go relieve Mum."

"Joel-"

"Come find me when you're ready to trust me Pip."

With that, Joel left. You tried, in vain, to blink away the tears that stung your eyes but they fell anyway. You hated that you were upset that Joel was giving you the space you had, without saying it, demanded from him.

Was he right? Did you not trust him?

Only you could answer that question.

...

The awkwardness between you and Joel continued in the weeks that followed. He still brought you your coffee every morning but only spoke to you when it was absolutely necessary. The longer this went on, the more confused you felt about it... But if you were being completely honest with yourself, you wanted him to fight for you.

It felt like he had just decided to give up... But in reality, you know that he's just giving you what he thinks you want.

.

"How long are you two going to continue going on like this?" Simon asked as he glanced at you through the window of Joel's office.

"Till she decides to hear my side of things." Joel replied sharply and Simon let out a long sigh before responding.

"Try and see it from her perspective Joel. You had sworn to her that you'd wait for her just a week before and then she walks in on you and Anna kissing."

"I didn't kiss her." Joel growled and Simon huffed.

"I know that but she's in a delicate place Joel." Simon sighed "She's been through a lot and her emotions are all over the shop at the moment."

"I know that." Joel growled out "But I don't know what to do Simon. She clearly don't trust me or she would have let me say my piece weeks ago."

"I don't think it's a matter of trust." Simon said softly, giving Joel a sympathetic smile as he said "I think it's more a case of her insecurities getting the better of her."

"She knows how I feel about her." Joel argued, "She should trust that I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Then fight for her." Simon said as he stood from his chair "Don't let her slip through your fingers man."

.

Later that day found you and Simon enjoying lunch outside. He’d offered to treat you to a burger from your favourite diner and it had taken little persuasion to get you to agree.

"When are you and Joel going to work shit out?" Simon asked as he dipped a bunch of fries into his mayonnaise.

"Simon..."

"I know... I know... You're upset for him for kissing Anna." He said as he grabbed another bunch of fries "Only... he keeps telling me how he didn't kiss her. She apparently, kissed him on the cheek and it startled him." He continued, shoving the chips into his mouth and chewing them a few times before saying "He turned to look at her and she just went for it."

"That may be so but he didn't stop her." You grumbled.

"You telling me that if I kissed you out of the blue... you wouldn't freeze too?"

"Simon-"

"He's hurting Pip." Simon interrupted "He's doing what he thinks you want but I think we both know that this isn't what you want."

You look away from Simon, tears gathering again on your bottom lids and you quickly wipe them away.

"You need to talk to him Pip." Simon urged as he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a sideways hug "You're just going to hurt more and more the longer you leave it."

You nod but you don't say anything.

"I'm not saying you have to do it tomorrow or anything." He said softly "Just think about it yeah... And don't leave it too long."

"Okay." You replied with a nod, not trusting your voice not to crack.

...

You took a few days to ponder what Simon had said to you. The more you did, the more you thought about that day and what you saw. Anna stood in front of Joel, their lips locked.

Except... the more you thought about it, the more you realised that Joel's posture had been so rigid. Like he'd been standing outside in the snow for hours.

Yet...

There was still that little voice in the back of your head that told you that he had lied to you. That he had kissed her just a week after promising you that he would wait for you to be ready for more.

And you had almost been there. You were so close to being ready and now it was all up in the air. You wanted to believe Simon. You wanted to believe him and yet your heart didn't seem willing to let you forgive. Yet the longer this went on the more you missed him.

The more you missed Sarah.

So when Mrs Miller had asked if she could pop over with Sarah that Saturday morning, you couldn't have said yes quickly enough. Sitting there with Sarah smiling at you as you bounced her on your knee, you felt the most complete you had in months.

"How have you been?" The older woman asked and you shrugged. There was no hiding things from this woman.

"I know what happened with Anna." She said, "Joel told me that evening and he was a wreck." She paused to take a sip of her tea before continuing "He's still a wreck."

Lucia gave you a sad smile before waving at her granddaughter who was completely unaware of what was going on between her father and you.

"I'm scared." You replied honestly "I'm scared of getting trampled again. I don't think my heart can take any more sorrow."

"I know darlin' but Joel isn't gonna hurt you." She said softly "He just wants the chance to prove he loves you."

You nodded, smiling at Sarah who was grinning at you, her two bottom teeth making you smile and want to weep in equal measure.

"He loves you, sweetheart." She said sweetly "Not saying the boy isn't thick as soup sometimes but he loves you somethin' fierce."

"Thank you, Lucia."

"You're welcome."

...

It had been a slow morning.

Joel and the boys were on site that morning, meaning you hadn't had a chance to see him. You'd had the rest of the weekend to think about what Lucia had told you and you knew you needed to give Joel the chance to tell you his side of things.

The phone rang a little after 11 and after quickly chewing and swallowing the mouthful of toast you'd made yourself as a late breakfast you answered with your usual greeting.

"Miller and Son's construction, how can I help?"

"Pip it’s Simon." He started and his tone instantly made your blood run cold "There's been an accident on site..."

"Is everyone okay? What happened?"

"Um... We're not sure what happened... Nobody saw it." Simon continued, his voice wobbling "One minute he was next to me on the scaffolding and the next he was on the ground. I have no idea how he fell."

"How who fell?"

"It all happened so fast that I... Shit, I just froze but-"

"Simon!" You shout, stopping his rambling "Who's fallen?"

"Joel."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[please-destroy]

Remnants

Third and final part of a series. First fic here, second fic here.

This is the same Natasha and the original reader.

.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3k

.

Fear, pain and grief are three connected emotions.

.

Fear is the prospect of losing someone you love.

Pain is the moment they are taken from you.

Grief is when you are left alone.

.

When you first got sick, you experienced the fear. The certainty that you were going to lose everyone, everything. 

You tried to hurry through the pain, taking control of it before it controlled you.

Natasha loved you too well. You couldn’t let her die alongside you.

You were not ready for grief. But the thought of Natasha being left alone was unbearable. When you asked her to leave, you were trying to be brave.

.

You’d never minded eating alone before, but now all you did was stare at the empty chair that used to be hers.

Even when you were alone, Natasha stayed in your veins.

You waited to die. You told yourself you were ready. Somehow, with fewer days ahead of you, you didn’t want to wake up in the morning.

Natasha stopped calling you eventually. Her last voicemails were pleading, but they were also resigned. 

Wanda stopped trying to visit. 

You grieved for your life before you were dead.

.

It was nearly a month waiting on your own, before Tony came by unexpectedly. He was matter of fact. 

He convinced you to join an experimental drug trial.

It probably wasn’t going to work but researchers needed guinea pigs. He looked you up and down and smirked like you weren’t a walking tragedy.

‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ He pointed out.

You agreed readily enough. You didn’t care about anything anymore. Risky medical experiments were not daunting when you were already waiting to die. 

It was time for the hospital anyway. Your walking wasn’t good anymore.

Tony didn’t tell you that it was a late stage trial for Stark Industries. He didn’t tell you that you were the only test subject.

You didn’t think to ask about something as unlikely as it working. You only had one question.

‘What did she say about it?’

‘We don’t talk about you.’ Tony answered succinctly. When his eyes flickered away, you suddenly understood.

Natasha was dating someone else.

Of course, it was when you finally stopped wanting to live, that your luck turned around. 

.

A week after the initial treatment, you started walking easier. That was the first sign. 

It didn’t happen overnight, they let you out of the hospital after four months. 

.

You had your life back and it was anticlimactic.

You went back to your apartment and the place felt caked in your illness.

You hadn’t seen Natasha in six months. You hadn’t planned for this outcome. Neither had she, not after your insistence. 

You’d done the unforgivable because you hadn’t ever expected to need forgiveness.

.

At night you dreamed of Natasha, over and over again. Lying on warm beaches, crying at your grave, kissing strangers. 

You wanted to be selfish. You wanted to feel alive. Natasha’s touch still burned through your veins. 

You called her.

The number was disconnected.

You sat on your kitchen counter and dialled another number. Tony answered after one ring.

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day at your apartment. You’d ignored texts and calls without thinking about it.

When you’re dying, you have the privilege of ignoring consequences. You didn’t have that luxury anymore.

Tony told you to go fuck yourself three times over before he addressed your question.

‘On behalf of Natasha. Go fuck yourself.’

He hung up and never answered again. 

Wanda never picked up. She ignored your texts. It felt worse, a different guilt lingered with her. A realisation of all the resentment that she’d been holding back just to be kind to you. You’d been dying and now you were being left on read.

.

You tried to find some way to move forward.

You still looked unwell, so you started there. 

You walked further every day. You started cooking again. You cleaned the air of sickness from your apartment. 

The emptiness lingered in the space beside you in your bed.

You went to the store and bought groceries like you might live until the end of the week.

.

A month later, and ironically the grocery store was where you found her.

You saw Natasha ahead of you in the bread aisle.

It took you a moment. She didn’t look like Natasha anymore. 

At first, you thought she was sick. 

Her skin looked alien under the supermarket lights. Her hair wasn’t washed, scraped back in a ponytail that hung limp.

Her shoulders were hunched forward and she looked too small. She scanned the shelf and her gaze was deadened. Exhaustion clung to swollen eyes, red rimmed from too much crying.

Natasha didn’t see you.

Her movements were jerky. You felt an aching certainty that she must be sick too.  

She looked thinner. Worryingly frail. 

You’d seen yourself once in a mirror at the hospital. The sights were comparable. 

Air left your chest as her pain sunk in. You’d stumbled on another way that the world could end.

Natasha turned around automatically at your exhale. 

For a moment, her empty eyes trailed over you unseeingly. 

Time passed in slow motion as she recognised you. You watched Natasha’s eyes widen, watched the shock steamroll through her. She moved like there’d been a blow to her chest.

As if her legs no longer worked, you watched her crumple to the ground. You reached out instinctively but Natasha cried out hoarsely. Her own arms moved in some attempt to shield herself.

You flinched back, afraid of her fear. Afraid of consequences, like always.

Natasha was disoriented, she told you that you weren’t real. Her voice was scratchy like old vinyl. You could hear how much she’d been crying.

You couldn’t speak, words were trapped in your throat. 

You sat down on the peeling linoleum, keeping a careful distance. Eventually, Natasha went quiet and sat staring at you, gripping her knees.

Other shoppers passed you awkwardly. The pair of you clearly designated as crazy but no immediate threat.

‘You died.’ Natasha said directly, voice cracking open with fresh pain. She buried her face against her knees and you watched her shoulders begin to shake.

You started quietly, telling her the story of the last six months in unnecessary detail, as if that could excuse what you’d done.

Natasha kept her face pressed against her knees. She hummed sometimes as her shoulders convulsed with repressed sobs. Your story petered out pathetically. A store assistant hovered nervously by the eggs, trying to catch your eye.

He fled when you shook your head pointedly. You turned your attention back to Natasha. Her back was arched and you saw how her spine stood out through her old grey t-shirt. She was too thin now. The shirt had once been yours.

You’d made her sick. 

You shuffled closer. Your hand touched her scuffed sneaker. Natasha shuddered. 

‘I’m alive.’ You told her. ‘I promise you, I’m alive.’

You managed to hook your hand under her arm, helping her shakily to her feet. Natasha kept trembling next to you. She felt icy under the thin fabric. You deserted the shopping carts and led her out of the building. 

Natasha threw up violently on the gravel outside the store. 

She started crying again and her breaths came and went faster. You knew she was on the verge of spiralling panic.

‘Can I call someone?’ You asked her softly. Natasha flinched again and stumbled. You lurched forward trying to steady her. Natasha choked on a sob.

‘I don’t have a phone.’ She told you disorientedly. ‘You didn’t call me. You never called.’

Natasha broke out of your grip and the tears started coming silently again. 

You took another step forward and Natasha backed herself against the brick outer wall of the supermarket.

You felt like something infectious.

You whispered an apology and Natasha gave you a nauseated look.

‘I can’t leave you like this.’ You murmured.

You watched a curtain of fresh hurt fall over Natasha’s eyes. Her jaw tightened. 

‘Of course you can.’ Natasha spat and she rubbed fiercely at the tear stains on her cheeks.

You didn’t leave. You couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Natasha’s fingernails dragged along her arms in an erratic motion.

You had nothing to say. You couldn’t ask for what you didn’t deserve. 

Natasha stared at you, jaw clenched so tight that it hurt to look at. You saw the goosebumps flaring next to the red marks on her arms. 

You removed your sweatshirt and threw it across the space between you. Natasha jerked back unnecessarily as the soft grey fabric landed by her feet.

You pretended not to see her eyes flicker over your exposed arms. You knew you didn’t look sick anymore. It was strange to have it confirmed.

Natasha picked up the sweater and her breath caught as she gripped it tightly.

She pulled it over her head in one hurried motion. Strands from her ponytail wisped around her face as she turned away from you purposefully. You watched her bring the sleeve to her face and breathe deeply. 

You watched her shake with soft cries now.

‘Natasha.’ You tried with a hesitant step forward.

Natasha didn’t respond.

You took another step forward.

When you touched Natasha’s shoulder, she stiffened for a second until another sob wracked through her. Silent tears blinded you too.

You hadn’t escaped grief and neither had she. Not really. All you’d managed to do was give Natasha more pain.

You said her name quietly and all at once Natasha turned around.

Her eyes were screwed tightly shut as she buried her face into the crook of your neck . You felt her cling to your own thin t-shirt now, her nails scraping against your skin. 

You held her carefully. She didn’t feel like Natasha anymore.

Too thin, too small and too broken.

You thought you’d already survived everything that could kill you. 

But Natasha’s wet cries burned across your chest. 

You couldn’t comprehend her pain. You choked on the unanswerable guilt of what you had done.

Natasha pressed herself even harder into your front and you realised that she was on the verge of hysterics again. She inhaled raggedly and rapidly. You felt every breath against your skin. 

You wanted to be absolved of this feeling. Natasha seemed unbearably lost. 

‘Please Natasha, let me take you home.’ You murmured softly. The hum of your voice settled her instinctively and the guilt clawed at you harder.

You took her hand, interlacing your fingers and led her over to your car. Natasha didn’t protest, there was something childlike in the way she followed you. 

Natasha clipped her seatbelt and stared numbly out the window as you drove back to her place.

She cried intermittently, hiding her face behind the oversized sleeve of your sweatshirt. You tried to focus on driving, your mind was full of white noise.

You pulled up outside her apartment building and there was a brief, awkward pause.

You asked if you could walk her to her apartment. Tension seemed to vibrate from Natasha at the offer, but she nodded. 

Selfishly, you prayed another person wouldn’t be waiting behind the door.

Natasha walked ahead of you up the stairs. You didn’t comment on her shakiness, her jerky reach for the handrail.

There was another unbalanced moment in front of her apartment. 

You wanted to beg to see her again. You wanted to promise not to bother her. You stood silent in indecision.

Natasha held her open door purposefully wide and gave you a third option.

All thoughts of someone else being there washed away. 

There was no view of the city skyline to greet you. Her closed blinds only allowed a dim amber light to filter through. Messy stacks of papers covered most surfaces. 

Natasha looked unsure of her surroundings. She watched you take in the space. You tried to keep your concern muted.

The stains down her kitchen cabinets seemed old. Empty vodka bottles littered the floor by the sofa. 

A phantom memory floated in your mind’s eye, of the last time you’d been here.

‘You should sit down.’ You remembered to say, trying to ignore the rising anxiety in your chest. The idea of her living with someone new was preferable to this. Loneliness weighed down the air.

Natasha obeyed silently. She walked over and curled up familiarly on the sofa. You couldn’t stop staring at her. Sadness and love twisted into self loathing.

‘When was the last time you ate?’ You asked worriedly, scared for the answer.

Natasha shook her head slowly. 

“I don’t remember.’ She told you, staring down at a sofa cushion. ‘That’s why I was at the store.’

You nodded even though she couldn’t see. Your throat was too tight to speak. You checked her fridge. It was as empty as you expected.

‘I’m going to order you pizza.’ You determined, pretending that Natasha wasn’t nearly catatonic on the sofa. She didn’t react to your words.

You ordered her favourite toppings and brought her over a glass of water. Natasha didn’t meet your eyes. When you sat on the far side of the sofa, she curled her legs tighter against herself.

‘Have you had any missions lately?’ You broke the silence. Natasha shook her head again, she stared at the glass of water that she wasn’t drinking.

‘I’m on bereavement leave.’ She whispered several minutes later. ‘I had a breakdown.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ You let out in a strangled whisper, fingernails digging into your palm.

Natasha ignored you.

When the pizza arrived, you set it down in front of Natasha. She held out a slice to you and you refused politely.

The angry spark ignited in Natasha again and she stared at you fiercely.

‘You have to eat.’ She told you and her insistence sent you into flashbacks from the past. Each memory hit like a blow to the gut.

‘You’re one to talk.’ You replied before you could think. Natasha snatched the slice back and her eyes dropped down again to the food in front of her.

She breathed out unsteadily.

‘I’m trying.’ She whispered, more to herself than to you.

Your voice died on another apology.

After a while, you started collecting up the strewn around dirty dishes. You checked her bedroom and found more liquor bottles by the bed. Her sheets hadn’t been changed in a long time. 

You stripped the bed and started the washing machine. 

‘You okay?’ You asked automatically as you returned to the room. Natasha’s head was leaning heavily against the back of the sofa. Her eyes followed you tiredly as you walked back to the kitchen.

‘I forgot something at the store.’ Natasha croaked out. 

‘I’m not buying you more vodka.’ You said directly, turning your back as you loaded the dishwasher.

‘Fuck you.’ She bit back angrily.

The insult was nothing. It was worse that Natasha didn’t really hate you. 

You took the bottles outside to the trash in three separate trips. Two neighbours on the stairs,  busy in conversation, gave you a dirty look each time you walked by. 

You spent the afternoon scrubbing kitchen cabinets, making her bed and organising Natasha’s mail. 

Natasha fell asleep on the sofa. You went to cover her with a blanket, but there was a dried vomit stain on the corner of the fabric and so you did another load of laundry instead.

There was nothing else to do, but you found yourself pacing through the apartment anyway. You itched to open the blinds but you didn’t want to wake her.

.

Natasha cried in her sleep.

The sounds were faint, and then they got louder.

Her fists clenched and her leg kicked out. You hovered behind the sofa, scared to wake her.

Natasha was barely conscious when she moved from the sofa. You hurried behind her as she stumbled rapidly to the bathroom. You heard her throwing up. You pressed down your hesitation and slid to your knees beside her.

You gathered her hair up and held it back as she vomited. 

You weren’t sure what she’d woken up remembering, not until her hand patted your thigh searchingly. She only stopped when she found your hand, gripping it tightly. 

Natasha only let go when she stumbled back to her feet, flushing the toilet. She leaned over the sink heavily and you stood quietly as she tried to take more steadying breaths. 

Your hand touched her shoulder and she flinched again.

You didn’t know how to ask about the vomiting. You didn’t want to know about her nightmares.

Natasha watched your reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. You met her gaze carefully. 

When she turned to leave the bathroom, you reached for her hand. Natasha snatched it away from you.

Every apology you made felt meaningless. You foresaw the inevitable when Natasha walked you to the door.

Fear broke loose inside you suddenly. You fought an urge to plant your feet in the ground and refuse to move. Natasha turned back to you when her hand was on the door handle.

‘You need to leave.’ She told you, nerves making her voice tremble.

‘Natasha, please.’ You found yourself stumbling on your words. You had no good argument, but you were ready to beg.

Natasha turned the handle and opened the door.

‘I’m sorry.’ You tried again, feeling yourself start to shake. 

Natasha didn’t speak and her permanently reddened eyes didn’t meet yours. You watched her grip on the door handle tighten.

You took a step towards her, your hand gently touched her waist.

Natasha’s hand pressed flat against your chest. The gesture was firm but not harsh.

The finality of the rejection hung in the air. 

You forgot how to breathe. Your eyes widened in panic. Natasha’s hand moved you forward and through the door. You tried to remember every feature of her face.

You didn’t have enough time.

The door shut abruptly and you found yourself staring at it. Tears rolled down your cheeks.

Natasha wasn’t okay.

You were the cause. You couldn’t be the cure.

Fear, pain and grief hit you in quick succession.

It was only when the cold air hit you outside that you realised she’d kept your sweatshirt.

You understood it now. All the calls she’d left. All the faith she’d had.

Living with the consequences was so much worse than dying with them.

[henneseyhoe]

Devotion.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: DARK THEMES, cult behavior, cult leader!Lewis, Idolizing, blasphemy(kinda?? idk girl), mentions of religion(no specifics), SMUT, unprotected (wrap it before ya smack it), mind broken reader, stockholm syndrome (not written in but kinda implied), breeding k*nk, short.

SUMMARY: Lewis chooses you.

✮✮✮✮

Was he really as sadistic as the papers said? How could he be when he was so sweet to me?

He nursed me back to health when iIl, when I was at my lowest, he lifted me in spirit. He gave me hope when I had none. He gave me something to believe in. He would never hurt me, he wouldn’t violently touch a hair on my head. He was consistently perfect. He was what all men should have been.

Dressed in black gowns, all of my sisters stood around with roses propped in their hands, veils on their heads and envy in their eyes. I’ve been there before. Envious of any woman that was next to him. Now I no longer remember what that felt like.

“You may kiss the bride”

I heard from beside me. My heart instantly swoll ten times it’s size. He took me by the hand and brought me closer to him before lifting the white veil over my head. His hand grazed my cheek and his lips hovered over mine. I could physically feel his breath over me. It confirmed that he was indeed real. He wasn’t just a vessel or embodiment of the purest form of a prophet, he was now also my partner. I was one step closer to heaven.

Hours later after dragged out sessions of meditation and eating food served on fine china, I found myself finally feeling solace.

I use to deeply craved to be with him at all times, not just to be in the same room to read or pray. Now he was touching me. Breathing the same air as me, taking my breath away with each stroke of his fingers. He told me he was getting me ready, his lips hovering above mine. He breathed in every sigh I made and the thought of my oxygen entering his lungs made me grateful.

He told me he would break me before making me whole again. He reminded me the entire time that this was just the beginning before I truly became the woman I was always supposed to be. His.

Yes, I was one of the many women, but I was the one. He told me.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl”

I kneeled before him, him only on one knee like when he proposed. A puddle of my own release was beneath me with his fingers still deep inside, pressing against the spongy part of my walls until I came again, my body slumping against his. My mouth had been wide open, unable to close for longer than a few seconds before another moan was exiting. Drool dripped from the sides of my mouth and he easily wiped it clean with his tongue like nothing, tasting the wine he offered earlier on me.

I was like that for what felt like hours until he allowed me to taste him. My mouth had never been on him like this before, before I couldn’t remember if he had ever touched me at all.

My jaw ached and my throat was sore, but he kept pushing and I took it just for the approval. I hear quiet sighs, moans that were almost whimpers above me, him looking down at the sight. His eyes were darker than before, pink lips parted to whisper out my name every time i’d take him completely, not coming up until I physically gagged and was forced to pull back.

When I disconnected from him there were strings of my spit still attached to him and he took the liberty to tap the tip of himself against my swollen lips, watching me flinch with the first few pops.

We transitioned for the third time that night and I began to wonder if the other women got the same treatment. He couldn’t be this great for all of them, I had to be special.

“You’re doing so good”

He breathed into my neck, arms wrapped around the front of my body as he rutted his hips into me. It felt as if I was on my knees all night, and I was tired, but he told me if I prayed with him on my knees, then everything else sacred needed to be done that way too.

His hand squeezed at the front of my throat and his other caressed up and down the side of my ribcage, tracing the tattoo of his name written into my skin with his fingers. I had his name symbols of him on multiple parts of my body, each place he had kissed tonight.

“You listen so much better than any of the other ones. That’s why I picked you. That’s why you’re my favorite”

He confessed into my ear, sharp teeth grazing the shell of it before they pressed onto the skin of my neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

I could feel the knocking of his tip inside of my stomach somehow, the spasms of my walls supplying him with just the amount of grip he needed to finish, the grip he claimed to have been thinking of since laying eyes on me.

My breathing hitched, then sped up and synched to each pound, pathetic whines leaving my mouth on impact. Every sensation felt so much more real now, I could feel everything. The wet skin of his chest pressed firmly against my back, the slapping of his hips against my ass which I was sure was slightly bruised by now, the scratching of his low cut nails against my curves.

Even if he broke skin, I knew not to fret. He’d lick me up again if I asked.

He lets me go and allows my weak body to fall flat on his bed, his hips still never stuttering as he follows after me, dipping his hips low while simultaneously lifting mine to meet him pound for pound.

My time was now. Now was the moment for me to prove that I was truly his, that I was ready to be saved for the rest of my mortal life, that I was in fact the best partner and the most devoted. That’s what he needed, what he deserved. Devotion.

With each question he managed to ask while somehow keeping his pace, I nod with no hesitation whatsoever as his hand slips down under and in between my wet thighs to rub at my sensitive bud, my body jerking so intensely that he slipped out of me mid stroke and his free hand wasted no time to help put himself back in and build up his momentum again.

“Would you give me a child, darling? Would you like to play a part in what greatness is to come?”

He already had babies. 10 of them and counting. But he asked me to carry the one he chose, and I was no one to tell him no and starve his desire.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ did yall like it? yes, no? 🥴 also i know yall TIRED of the short fics 😭 sorryyy lmfao

[henry7931]

Head Swap Hookup

Matt

Man, this is still kinda strange to see myself but I’m so turned on by this experience. Last night, I met this guy named Luke at the gym. We hit it off really well and we both decided to grab drink afterwards.

As the night progressed the more we started opening up about what turns us on the most. Luke and I soon discovered that we are into each other’s body types. Luke is super into skinny twinks while I on the other hand love muscular hairy guys. So the both of us ended up hooking up. Afterwards we both laid in bed together and that’s when Luke suggested the craziest idea. He asked me if I would like to head swap with him.

I honestly thought he was just being drunk and silly so I agreed to it. That’s when I saw Luke pull off his head and I felt my mouth drop at the sight of a beautiful headless hunk right in front of me.

“You still down to do this?” says Luke.

I said back to him, “yeah I think so.”

Luke headless body grabs my head and tugs it off my body. It was the strangest sensation, I could still feel and control myself but I was somehow disconnected.

Luke’s body plops my head on my dresser and then grabs his head. I watch as his body places his head on top of my body. I instantly lose all feeling of my body.

Luke looks down at my fingers and chest analyzing my body that he now controls.

He says to me, “this is so hot.”

I wait for him to put me on his body but instead he says, “one sec.”

Luke walks up to his headless body that’s now at a stand still without anything controlling it.

He grand his hand and places it on my junk. He says to his body, “Play with it… softly.”

Luke’s start softly rubbing my bits.

Luke closes his eyes and says, “oh this feels so good. My rough hands toying with your sensitive cock. Matt your cock feels amazing!”

Still just a head, I somehow felt turned on by just watching our bodies interact.

“You wanna join?” he says to me.

“Well what else am I going to do? Sit on the dresser all night.”

Luke laughs at me and picks up my head. He lifts me up to eye level and kisses me on the lips.

Luke places my head on his body and I feel the bottom of my head connect to Luke’s neck.

I look down at Luke’s muscular hands and then down to his hairy legs and feet. I wiggle his toes feeling the new sensation of controlling his body.

I look back at Luke with my much smaller body and pull him in.

We start making out and I instantly get a hard on from touching my body.

The second round we decided to switch positions. It’s funny, I rarely top anyone but Luke never bottoms with his body. So I pushed into my hole, it felt so warm and tight.

I lifted my body while putting my legs over Luke’s shoulders. I felt so strong.

I thrusted into my hole both of us moaning so loud.

Soon we both blew out loads. We crawled into my bed, I cuddled up to my body. Luke’s junk was still hard so I placed it back into my hole. It just felt so warm.

Luke giggles at me and says, “you gonna keep that in their all night?”

I kiss my neck and say, “hell yeah I am!”

So now it’s the next morning and both of us are still swapped. I got up first and went to take a shower. I played with Luke’s morning wood for about 30 minutes. Edging his body to a point before it blew its load.

I walk out only to find Luke up in bed playing with my feet.

He grins at me nervously, “sorry your feet are so cute.”

I giggle at him and flopped into my bed.

I watch as Luke traces my fingers in between my toes. I look over at my junk standing tall.

Without any hesitation I began to lower head and wrap my lips around it.

He lets out a moan as I insert two of his fingers into my hole.

We spent the rest of the day in bed going at it. We tried everything together. Luke even pulled us into parts, pulling off my feet, hands, dick and balls. By the end of the day we were in so many pieces Luke struggled to putting us back together. Soon this became regular thing, us hooking up with each others bodies on.

I rarely have my body on unless I’m out in public. But as soon as we get to one of our places Luke switches us.

He loves wearing my body and especially loves showing it off to me. Luke even asked me to be his boyfriend. And of course I said yes. He’s sweet and the sex is out of this world.

[toastytrusty]

ok i know I'm a few days late now BUT! full thoughts on hickey davechella.

his undiagnosed playlist is mostly instrumentals. could represent how disconnected he feels from reality, could represent him repressing his emotions/ignoring his issues/masking his true self/whatever. you get it

the non instrumentals on undiagnosed are really upsetting. was lowkey crying listening to Black Holes In The Sand. gives credence to the disconnected from reality theory

also Come Over. is the vibe self hatred, self pity, something else? lots of family issues certainly but we'll get to that later

I Would for You (on undiagnosed) is also on gibson's playlist. lol

The Sound of the End of Music (on undiagnosed) is a mash up of This is the End and The Sound of Music. This is the End was on tozer's playlist. lol

an undiagnosed hickey attatching himself to other people and mirroring them rather than developing his own sense of self? likely story. morphing how he thinks they are and what he thinks they like into something else entirely? even more likely

The Angel Gabriel on undiagnosed. just everything about that. why is he listening to christian hymns. i' m gonna freak out

the songs on undiagnosed that can only be described as Weird Noises. Shell Cameo, which is a single piano with? shower noises? in the background? Weather Three immediately after that, which is just. 12 minutes of doom sirens. he likes weird noises

Glory Only Once also very similar. anyone else hear the ominous whistling? 😂

so many orchestral pieces. what a cultured young lad

Vexations: Vexations: Thème being almost complete silence. kind of similar to the instrumentals possibly representing a disconnect from reality. there's just nothing

The Unanswered Question has a lot to unpack. i don't wanna ramble Too much about music history and the significance of this song but. it is a piece in conflict with itself, asking itself questions and leaving itself unsatisfied. it's about the inherent terrifying disorder of existence. it's about finding comfort in solitude and silence. you ever think

Don't Smoke in Bed. just. everything about that song. yeah

now on the treatment playlist. his music taste fucking rocks. we got ella fitzgerald we got father john misty we got jeff buckley we got the beatles we got peter gabriel we got bruce springsteen. he is cooking

first song on treatment, What Do You Think Will Happen Now? feels like affirmations and something he's trying to convince himself of rather than something he yet believes. prefacing the playlist with a new positive worldview, representing his journey with getting treatment? perhaps?

he immediately has more weird noises on treatment. Hocket for Two Voices: I.— is very short and i am sure there is lovely musical theory behind it that i am not smart enough to comprehend but it is kinda just weird noises to the untrained ear. A Boy Called Conjuror is also like this. a love of weird noises transcends therapy!

I'm 89 falls into a similar category. he just listens to people talk. he is clearly still quite lonely

there is still a good amount of instrumentals on treatment, but the vibe is Decidedly different. big Maybe It's All Going To Be Okay energy. Forever Held made me cry the first time i heard it

most of the songs are not instrumental though! very lyrical. something about him approaching and processing his issues.

the songs about love on treatment. All The Right Reasons is very deeply moving Made me cry a bit. Love Love Love actually made me take my headphones off stand up and walk across my room but maybe i'm just too mountain goats pilled

side note for that: the song called Love on undiagnosed is an instrumental. love was something abstract and impossible to define or put into words before, but now it feels a lot more real.

It's Only A Paper Moon was very moving. he just needed someone to believe in him

Because the Night. i laughed. even treated modern hickey yearns for cannibalism as a metaphor for love. i'm joking. mostly

we still got christian themes in treatment! they are, however, less overt. like it's become a part of something else and can peacefully exist alongside him, rather than being so blatant and forceful. the jeff buckleys, father john misty (kinda.), etc

SPEAKING OF THE JEFF BUCKLEYS AND THE FATHER JOHN MISTY. New Year's Prayer is a heavy hitter. it's hard to pin down the exact vibes but it's somewhere between coping and accepting. if you get it. and Bored in the USA is one of the most reminscent of show hickey's pysche, imo. it's steeped in fear and regret and a resigned kind of hope

in line with the religion stuff. the orchestral piece, Gnossienne: No. 3, references gnosticism, a religious doctrine that supposes divinity can only be found in rejecting the material world (because it is evil) and the god that created it (because it is evil), and instead finding salvation in some secret hidden being through a different kind of spirituality. lol

Nobody's Fault but My Own is kind of heartbreaking honestly. it shows how much he Is healing and Is processing and Is taking accountability and changing the way he views the world. one of the most impactful imo

Kansas City felt very reminscent of show hickey's relationship with london

Mercy Street. so much to unpack. the daddy issues. the remorse. the begging for forgiveness.

even more family issues because the last song on the treatment playlist is My Father's House. it felt kind of like an ultimate culmination of the thesis of treatment being him facing his issues and being forced to confront and process them. there's an element of being too late to right the wrongs of your past, but there's also the element of accepting that, and forgiving yourself

now. the radioheads on both albums. both second to last song on their respective playlist. How to Dissappear Completely on undiagnosed, How to Dissappear into Strings on treatment. the first one was kind of viscerally upsetting and felt very in line with how disconnected the entire undiagnosed playlist was, almost like he doesn't feel real. one of the few lyrical songs on a mostly instrumental playlist is about how much he's Not a part of the world around him. smth smth the only thing he can put into words is that he has no words. however, How to Dissappear into Strings is Not! lyrical! it is entirely instrumental, on an otherwise predominantly lyrical playlist. like he's not thinking about dissapearing anymore, or he can no longer put words to it. it's still there, some things can't be magically cured and made go away forever, but it's less, now.

aspects of both playlists being very similar, sharing sounds and themes and artists, felt very much like healing not being linear, and treatment not entirely changing who you are. it's clearly the same person behind each playlist, with different experiences shaping them differently, but the same nonetheless. it's really beautiful

and to close out, i just want to say how meaningful this whole experience with hickey's playlists was to me. it was genuinely so truly truly moving to witness a character that is clearly severely mentally ill be given the grace and opportunity to heal and overcome their struggles, rather than it being homogenized into the rest of them. so often characters like this are not treated with the same potential to overcome, and are condemned to just being Like That forever, as if their struggles are inseparable from their essence and something that defines them. they are wholly characterized by being quirky and insane and inconsolably evil. but that clearly was not how this was treated at all (and never how hickey has been treated by the show), and being able to witness hickey's journey across these two playlists was very cathartic to me, and i appreciate it. a lot.

[kiragecko]

Authour’s Voices

I read fic for voice before anything else. Plot, tropes, canon compliance – they all pale in comparison to the word crafting. But voice is hard to describe, and referencing certain verbal tics is more likely to make an authour self-conscious than it is to flatter. So, here's my best attempt to describe the voices of some of my favourite fanfic authours – focusing on tone, subject matter, and the feelings they provoke, in a hope that I can get across at least a hint of how they sound.

@suzukiblu / suzukiblu / Rin (I read for DCU, Young Justice TV, Avatar)

REALLY intertwines characters thoughts and feelings in compelling ways. Inner monologues are a particular strength. Digs deep into what motivates characters and then lets them be insecure and angry because of those things. Writes REALLY close third person narration – ie. we are entirely in one person’s head, but the narration is using their name instead of saying ‘me.’ And we are ENTWINED in their head. Deeply. Maybe actually more in their chest -  the emotions are visceral and immediate. Very cathartic angry/overwhelmed ranting is a feature. People learning that they have inherent value. Romance/sex that is based on strong connections, and goes far deeper than hormones. A strong understanding of canon, used to write alternate universes that are much richer for that knowledge. Stories are cathartic, and leave you washed clean and energized.

@whetstonefires / Kieron_ODuibhir (/ Kieron) (I read for DCU, The Untamed/The Other Versions Of This Story)

Thoughtful, empathic stories that feel like they’ve spent months being refined to perfection. Also incredibly strong understanding of canon, with a much higher chance of showing her work on the page. A gift for searching out the nagging, poorly fitting pieces of canon characterization, and integrating them in her fic in ways that makes rereading the original a better experience. Beautiful, haunting, sentences. Feels like poetry makes me feel. A writing style that ALMOST feels intellectual, but is actually incredibly empathic. The knowledge is the vessel that carries the ... love? Respect? Maybe respect, and care, and dignity, that she has for the characters she’s writing about. Stories leave you quiet and satisfied.

@galaxystew / galaxysoup (I read for Avengers/Thor, Supernatural)

Careful, emotional, deep stories. There is a sense of immenseness, that the story can’t go too fast or it would become unstoppable. DEEPLY moving, gut-wrenching, stories told from just enough emotional distance to avoid overwhelming the audience. But they also about taking time to rest, both for the characters and the audience. Focuses on exploring and healing damaged relationships, (and damaged people), and never goes for the easy/trite solutions. Unassuming language and imagery that grounds the sometimes epic elements of her canons. Stories leave you grateful – grateful that the characters have reached that place, and grateful you got to come along.

@teland / Teland / Te (I read for DCU)

Stories have only the vestigial remains of a narrator. Almost everything is verbal or mental dialogue, usually without tags. (Ie. things like ‘Tim said.’) This would be frustrating with most writers, but Te’s character voices are SO strong and distinct that a story can start with an unnamed person talking and you immediately know who it is. She focuses on aspects of characters that many other authours miss (though some of that could be survivorship bias – perhaps she was part of a zeitgeist that hasn’t been preserved). She gets DEEP into the psyches of the characters she’s writing, dissects them, and then has them dryly comment on their displayed innards. Excels at characters that are very disconnected from their emotions, but also at characters who live immediately IN their emotions. Strong themes of identity and found family, though not in the way ‘found family’ is usually used these days. Symbolic, projected family? Stand-in, or sublimated, or substituted family? Something in that area. A lot of sex, which is also standing in for other things. Electric, transformative stories, with extremely long chapters that are hard to escape from when the world tries to call you back. Stories leave you alive to the possibilities, and maybe knowing more about yourself.

@angel-gidget / angel_gidget / Gidge (I read for DCU)

There’s an optimism and joy to Gidge’s writing. A ... cleanness. Hmm, what do I mean? I ... I’m not actually sure? But it feels refreshing and space-making, to read a Gidge story. It feels like they SHOULD be humorous, with the effects they have, but that’s not actually the focus? It feels like they’re light, even when the topic is heavy and treated seriously. It’s a really special gift, what Gidge has. Maybe the correct term is ‘conversational’? Yeah, there’s a matter-of-fact, conversational tone to everything she creates, and it lifts your spirits every time you read it.

@vmohlere / owlet (I read for Avengers/Captain America)

Absolutely brilliant way of using humour to tackle difficult subjects. Stories are so funny and positive, that it’s hard to realize how dark the things referenced are. It helps that they usually don’t become explicit until the characters have mostly processed them, and they’ve been defanged of a lot of their power. I’ve never seen someone else accomplish this, and it blows me away. Incredible OCs. Deep empathy for character’s specific needs, and focusing on what THEY’RE ready to focus on. Boundaries are not only respected, but taught. And all of this is happening behind a wry, clever sense of humour that invites you in to hang out for a while. One of the most joyful reading experiences I’ve ever had. I’ve used scenes to walk myself through bad mental periods. And I still think about their work every time I make a grilled cheese.