#i can do my own makeup in real life sure but that doesn’t mean i can translate that well into cartoony art

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Bucket List || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: Life changes in the blink of an eye with a diagnosis and you are forced to face your mortality with the help of Charles Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, grief, implied character death.

WC: 5.8k

Story || Death Scene || Two Years Later || Bucket Moments || Five Years Later

The winter break was meant to be a time for Charles to relax but one simple act had put an end to those plans. It had been a little joke between lovers while you were getting dressed. Charles had seen an opportunity and taken it, cradling the swell of your breast in his palm and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Honk, honk!”

You gasped at the sudden pain that flared and rubbed at the aching area. Charles was immediately sorry, apologising profusely as he brushed your hand aside and massaged it gently for you.

“It’s ok, Cha, this one’s been a bit tender lately.”

“What do you mean?” His concern was palpable and his hand flattened so the palm was pressing into your flesh. You couldn’t hide the wince at the spot he touched and he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

“What?!” You stepped away and grabbed your breast, almost immediately feeling what he felt as your heart began to hammer hard in your chest. “It’s probably nothing, boobs are lumpy all the time.”

“Yeah…” he murmured distractedly. “We should probably check just to be sure. Right?”

You tried to nod casually but it was too hurried. “I mean, just to be sure.”

Everything moved quickly after that. The exhaustion was no longer jet lag. The low red blood count was no longer anaemia. The lump was no longer just fatty tissue.

“What happens now?”

You looked at your boyfriend, but his eyes were fixed on the doctor who had been explaining the test results. Charles had done all of the talking while you sat in a state of shock. You didn’t even feel like you were inside your own body but floating somewhere in the room and watching from outside.

“We could take a biopsy to be certain but the tests so far are quite conclusive and I wouldn’t recommend waiting. We could fit you in to remove the tumour in the next couple of days and have you home for Christmas.”

You knew this already. He had spoken about removing the lump. You couldn’t bring yourself to call it a tumour because, benign or malignant, it made it too real. Removing the lump was the extreme simplification of what he really meant. Mastectomy. Double to be precise. The risk was too great to leave the other breast untreated, apparently.

“We’ll take the surgery as soon as possible.”

You blinked at Charles, waiting to see if he would even look in your direction before making such a decision but his chin was resting on the tip of his steepled fingers. He leaned forwards, digging his elbows into his knees as he always did when he was deep in thought.

“No,” you rasped. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” Charles replied without even looking at you. He had hardly looked your way since the first appointment a week ago.

“I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Doctor Hall said softly as he rose from his chair and left the room, the click of the door closing too loud in the heavy silence.

“It’s my body, Charles,” you whispered, your throat too hoarse to manage anything louder.

“I know that, but this is your life we are talking about.”

“We don’t even know for certain that it’s…that it’s…”

“It’s cancer,” he said with a sigh, “not saying it doesn’t change the test results.”

Your eyes burned, your tear ducts working overtime all week. The harsh lines on Charles’ face softened as he saw them well on your waterline before spilling over. Pulling you into his lap, he cradled your head to his chest as you ruined yet another one of his shirts with your makeup and tears.

“Mon amour, we will get through this but we have to trust the doctors.”

“I won’t have boobs,” you whispered as your voice broke.

Charles curled his finger under your chin and tipped it back as he searched your eyes for the answer. He found what he was looking for and dropped his forehead to yours with a shake of his head. “You will still be the most beautiful woman in the world. And I need you in the world, mon amour, do you understand that? I need you to fight this.”

A few days turned out to be just one after the oncology department received a large, anonymous donation. The private room in the hospital was filled with bouquets from friends and family, their floral scents were almost able to erase the tart smell of bleach. You still felt numb to the entire experience and Charles watched on with concern as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

Your reflection was the same, yet it wasn’t. Permanent marker pen lined the skin that would soon be permanently marred. The outlines accentuated what would be taken from you and you turned to your side profile, trying to imagine waking up without the pieces of your body Charles had loved.

“The surgeon said there are options, if it’s really that important to you,” Charles said as he pushed off the doorway he had leaned against and walked into the room. “But you don’t have to think about that now.”

You let him drape the surgical gown over your arms and they fell limp at your side while he tied the bows to keep your modesty. “Come and lay down with me,” he murmured as he took your hand and led you to the bed. You hadn’t been sleeping well, neither of you had.

It was narrow but Charles made space for you to lay in his arms with his chest pressed to your back. Monaco was alive outside the window you faced but the sounds didn’t reach you. Instead of watching the cars on their journeys you turned your eyes up to the cloudless sky and spotted the gulls that danced in the salt air.

“I lo-.”

Charles’ chest shuddered with the breath he took before he kissed your temple and whispered, “Don’t.”

“I need to tell you.”

“We promised, not until you wake up.”

“But what if I-”

“Don’t,” Charles begged, a wet drop falling into your hair. “Please.”

A knock sounded at the door but you kept your eyes firmly only the white feathers of the bird that landed on your windowsill outside. Charles pressed his lips to your temple once more before releasing you from his hold and climbing off the bed.

“I’ll be right there when you wake up, mon amour.”

“I…I’ll see you soon.”

He smiled sadly as you caught yourself from saying what you wanted to say, that sad smile remaining while your bed was wheeled away. You craned your neck as you were taken further down the hall, wanting to memorise the way he looked in case it was the last time you had the chance.

As promised, you woke up bleary eyed and groggy to those gold and green eyes, his hands holding yours tenderly as he sat beside your bed.

“Hi, beautiful,” he greeted as his smile brightened your day. It was a true smile, one you hadn’t seen for over a week, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed the dimples in his cheeks. “I love you.”

You felt drunk as the anaesthesia still circulated your body and you were sure you slurred the words you had been banned from telling him before. “I love you.”

You dozed in and out of consciousness until the pain relief began to wear off and breathing itself hurt. The bandages across your chest irritated your skin and the stitches pulled with every little movement. Charles noticed it all.

“I’ll see if they can give you anything for the pain.”

You caught his hand before he could leave and winced as the IV line in your hand tugged uncomfortably. “I’m hungry.”

Charles chuckled, knowing you would be after eating nothing before the surgery, and cradled your cheek gently. “Maman’s on her way with your favourites. I’ll be right back, baby.”

Charles arrived back with a large bag of hot dishes from your favourite restaurants around the city and the promise that the nurse would bring some medicine around soon. 

“We’ll have someone come and move you up to the ward shortly,” the kind nurse said after she had given you another dose of pain relief. “You’ll be able to see your visitors there.”

You thanked her since you knew your parents would have been waiting with Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo too. Charles had been keeping them updated since you woke up and his phone was constantly going off with notifications from your friends. 

“How are you feeling?”

You placed your fork down into the empty bowl and Charles whisked it off your lap and tidied up the rubbish with the need to keep himself busy. “I don’t know,” you admitted as your head began to clear from the anaesthesia. “Two weeks ago we were partying in Baku and now we’re here. I still don’t know how this even happened. What if they made a mistake? This was all done so quickly.”

Charles carefully tucked the sheet back around your body after helping you to lie back down. “Mon amour, this is one of the best hospitals, they wouldn’t have done this unless it was the right decision for your health.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t know how to feel anything right now, except confusion.” You took his hand as he sat back into the chair beside your bed and kissed his knuckles. “How do you feel?”

“Me?” His brows pinched together as if he hadn’t been thinking for himself, and he really hadn’t. All of his thoughts and feelings had been focused on you. “I’m relieved, I suppose. You are here, I get to kiss you and hold your hand. That is good.”

You smiled at the hope in his voice. “I don’t remember a kiss.”

“Ah,” he hummed with a nod as he leaned closer until his lips were so close you could feel the heat of them as he whispered, “This one.”

You were warned that day two would be the hardest. The hard drugs had worn off and what you were supplied with took away the dull throbbing ache when you were stationary but did nothing to prevent the sharp pain of moving. 

Charles had just lifted you back into bed after helping you go to the bathroom when the surgeon arrived with a forlorn look on his face. Immediately you felt the air leave the room.

Doctor Hall started with the good news, that the surgery went as planned with minimal bleeding from the tissue removal, but then there was a pause. Your fingers tightened around Charles hand as the doctor flipped the piece of paper on his clipboard over and clicked the end of his pen. 

“When we began the removal of the tumour we found that the shape wasn’t exactly as we expected from the ultrasound.” He drew an oval shape on the paper before adding webs spindling off in all directions and pointing to them. “We removed as many of the tentacles as we could find but they are invasive and so we would like to start chemotherapy as soon as you have recovered from the operation.”

Charles' knee shook the bed as it bounced nervously. “Chemo?”

“Does this mean it is definitely c-cancer?” you stumbled over the word as you said it aloud for the first time.

The doctor nodded. “We were quite sure before but pathology confirmed it with the sample we sent.” 

“What about Christmas?” you asked. “Can I still go home for Christmas?”

The doctor nodded again and you exhaled in relief. Christmas had been organised to be held at your house for months and it would give you a chance to do something normal after your life had been thrown off the rails. You needed this Christmas. 

“We will schedule you in for after New Years, but you wouldn’t want to delay it much further than that.”

“Thank you,” Charles choked out for the both of you as you fell silent and he left. “What are you thinking so hard about, beautiful?”

“The menu. It needs to be special. And I want to invite everyone.”

“What, slow down, what are you talking about?”

“Christmas, Cha, I need to start planning now.”

Charles knew you were deflecting, pouring yourself into a future task so you didn’t have to think about the present. You had already gone through enough, so he bit his tongue and took a second to clear the thoughts he wanted to voice. Instead, he asked, “who, exactly, is everyone?”

“Slow down, you’re meant to be relaxing,” Charles warned as you rushed around the house for a last minute tidy up. “Don’t hurt yourself, baby, let me help.”

“I love you, but please leave this to me. I know where everything is.”

“I do too,” he exclaimed, falling silent when you picked up a remote that had stopped working. You had asked him to get the batteries for it the night before, but he hadn’t been able to find them. 

“Second drawer in the kitchen,” you said as you tossed it to him and folded the blanket you snuggled under with him every night. “But you knew that right.”

He sent you a charming smile as he backed out of the room. “Of course, honey.”

You chuckled at his retreating figure. “Thought so.”

You had just finished lighting the scented candles around the house when the front door opened and Arthur breezed into the living room. 

“Merry Christmas, ma chére. Shouldn’t you have your feet up?” he tutted as he kissed your cheeks, careful not to hug you since your chest still hurt. 

“Merry Christmas, Tuthur.” His smile lifted at the old nickname and it only grew as you said, “You know how well your brother cooks. Be glad I don’t have my feet up.”

Everyone arrived steadily after Arthur and as the night grew colder every seat in the living room was taken by your guests. You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas as you sat on Charles lap and listened to Joris recount how he had spent the winter break so far.

You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas, but it wasn’t.

You were self-conscious in a way you never were before. The dresses you had loved so much were now something you couldn’t bear to wear as it accentuated the changes in your body. You had taken one shopping trip with Pascale so you could buy some presents but by the time you had got home there was a photo circulating the F1 WAG pages. The comments had nearly made you sick as they compared your flat chest to that of a young boy, or joked that the championship wasn’t the only thing that was lost at the end of the season. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out but you doubted they would feel any remorse, anyone who could say such things through a keyboard didn’t have the emotional capacity to feel guilt. 

When midnight came and went, so too did the guests. Tipsy and jolly, they said their goodbyes and well wishes until the house fell quiet except for the music playing softly from the speakers. Charles pulled you into his arms and gently rocked you side to side as you laid your head on his chest. “Merry Christmas, mon amour. I didn’t know what to get you this year, so I was absolutely selfish and got this.”

Charles stepped out of your embrace as he dropped to one knee and held a ring out. Similarly designed to his mother’s, the ring was timeless and elegant with a large princess cut diamond. “Will you make me the happiest man and marry me?”

You had waited years for the question but the answer that fell from your lips went against every fibre of your being. Your hands covered your mouth but there was no silencing the words as they hung in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Confusion slapped Charles’ pink cheeks and he swallowed twice before his voice could work again. “Why not?”

“You know why,” you whispered. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Because I’m sick, and I don’t want to make plans if I’m not going to be there to…I just don’t think now is the right time.” You took the ring from his fingers and sighed with longing. “It’s beautiful, Char.”

“Hold on to it for me,” he said as he stood up and closed your hand around it. “When you beat this, I’ll be waiting, mon amour, however long it takes. I’ll wait for you.”

You held the ring tight as you closed the distance and put all the words and emotion you couldn’t articulate into a kiss, deepening it until you were breathless and needy. “Come to bed,” you breathed against his lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He looked pained by the very idea, or maybe it was the weeks of celibacy after your surgery.

Lacing your fingers together, you took a step towards the stairs and gently tugged him to follow. “You could never hurt me.”

The moment had been weeks in the making as the chemotherapy took its toll on you. For days after the treatment you had been ill and Charles had been at your side with a bowl ready for when you emptied the contents of your stomach. Then your muscles ached and you could barely hold your own weight up to walk. Just when you thought the worst had come to pass you felt the first strands come loose.

“Hello, my dear,” Pascale answered your call, only to be met with a hiccup. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“M-my hair,” you stammered as you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Charles had been out shopping but you saw his face appear behind you as you turned to show him what filled your gripped fist. “It’s my hair.”

“I’ll be over shortly, just let me lock up the shop,” Pascale soothed before ending the call.

“I just brushed it,” you hiccuped as you touched your hair again, more of it floating to the tile floor. “It won’t stop.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured as he took your hand and brushed the hair from your palm. “Maman will know what to do. We’ll get through this like we have everything else, together.”

Pascale promised she could have a wig made for you if you wanted one but it was already late in the evening and you knew she was exhausted from working all day. You did however accept her offer to shave the rest of your head so at least the patches of missing hair didn’t stand out as much. Charles had sat with you in the bathroom and held your hand the entire time before asking his mother to shave his next.

“No, I love your hair,” you argued as he pulled his shirt over his head to save it from getting covered in the short dark strands.

“I told you we are doing this together,” he replied as he kissed your knuckles and nodded to his mum to proceed.

It took a while to get used to the smooth feel of skin on your head but you came to prefer it to the wig that Pascale crafted, somehow finding hair that was almost the exact same shade and texture to your natural hair. The moment you got home from any outing you would pull the wig off with a grateful moan just as you used to do with your bra.

“Are you going to be alright? Maman said she can come and stay with you.” Charles sat on his suitcase so he could zip it closed before looking up to where you sat in bed with a book on your lap. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “It’s only for two nights.”

His team had let him get away with having one extra night at home before going to Bahrain for the 2024 pre-season testing, but it was still too long away from you in his eyes. You would have been with him but you were due some follow up tests.

“You’ll be so busy you won’t even have time to miss me,” you teased, spurring him to climb onto the bed and cage you beneath him.

“I miss you every second we are apart.”

You recognised the number calling your cell phone because you still had nightmares from the last time they rang. A pit of dread was already opening in your gut as you hovered your finger over the green button. You debated not answering the call but if you didn’t answer it then he would try Charles’ number next - and he needed to focus on driving.

You wished you never answered the call.

You had been quiet the entire drive from the airport to the hotel Charles was staying at. He wasn’t one to push you to talk before you were ready but he was certainly worried when he reached across the gearbox and placed his hand on your lap. He spared a glance to you as he gently squeezed your thigh but still you didn’t react, or take his hand, or even blink.

You didn’t remember the walk from the car to the hotel room. You were busy thinking about how you were going to break Charles’ heart, something you had never imagined you would have a hand in. You never wanted to hurt him, you loved him more than life itself, a life that was going to be shorter than you had once thought.

Charles stood quietly in the doorway to the bedroom, your suitcase still in his hand. He watched as you pulled your wig off for the first time since leaving Monaco and listened as you sighed heavily. His feet only carried him closer when you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and held it out silently.

“What’s this?” Charles asked as he unfolded the note you had written on the plane. You had almost 10 hours to think of everything you wanted to do while you could and his eyes scanned over the list. “Baby, what is this?”

“It’s my bucket list.”

“A bucket list?”

“It’s a list of what I want to do before I die.”

“I know what a bucket list is!” He took a breath and ran his hand over the fuzz that had grown back on his scalp before lowering his voice as he shook the paper. “Why am I holding yours?”

His green eyes blurred with tears as you bit your lip and looked at your feet. He was already shaking his head in denial, wet droplets soaking into the list.

“My results came back…”

“Non, non, baby, non…”

“I’m sorry, Charles,” you choked as he fell to his knees and let the paper fall to the floor. His arms encircled your hips and you cradled the back of his head to your stomach as he cried against you. You finally let your own tears fall, the tears you had held back since you received the news. “I’m so sorry.”

Charles missed testing the next morning as he held you in his arms. The tears had long run out but the sadness still remained. He had laid with you all night as close as your bodies would allow and together you had seen the sunrise over the desert. He had listened to you quietly recount the doctor’s words but most of it made no sense to him. 

Metastasized. Stage four. Terminal. The information ruined him.

“How long?” he finally asked. He looked at the paper that was still on the bedroom floor before clearing his throat and trying again. “How long do we have?”

You didn’t know if answering him would help or not but he was waiting for an answer as you rolled over to face him. The last three months had taken a toll on him and dark circles rimmed his eyes and they no longer held the same brightness. They were only going to dim more at the news. “Six months, maybe a year.”

He was silent, but you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Emotions warred behind his eyes before he climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

You hated the silence but the screaming was worse. The painful wail echoed around the room and you felt it shatter something deep in your chest, before something shattered in the bathroom.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you held yourself together while Charles fell apart.

You weren’t sure how long he screamed at the universe, how many times he asked it why, what he had done to deserve to lose someone else he loved. You weren’t sure how long it took him to clean the blood from his fist and wash his face of the tears before he unlocked the door and slipped back into the bed.

“Whatever you want, mon amour,” he promised as he unclenched your hands and curled his body around yours. “Anything you want to do, we’ll do it. We’ll do it all together.”

You stood at the edge of the lookout and smiled at Charles as he took the photo, another one for the memory box you were making together. Charles kept his promise, taking you everywhere around the world with him to tick off the items on your bucket list.

You had watched him win his home race for the first time and gone to a couples cooking class.

You visited all the Disneyland Theme Parks you hadn’t been to before: the Tokyo one when he raced in Suzuka, the Chinese one when he raced in Shanghai and the Floridian one when he raced in Miami. 

Charles had taken you to Iceland to camp under the northern lights and to Pamukkale in Turkey where the blue waters were meant to work miracles. It hadn’t cured the illness that ravaged your body but each activity you crossed off cured some of the sadness in your soul.

“It’s bigger than I imagined,” Charles commented as he looked up at Christ the Redeemer. “What size shoes do you think he wears?”

“Well you know what they say about big feet.”

Charles’ head fell back with a laugh. “You cannot say that about Jesus.”

You fluttered your eyelashes innocently as he stepped closer to take a photo of you together. “I was going to say he wears big socks, get your head out of the gutter.”

“Of course you were, mon amour.” Charles’ lips curled up in amusement and you relished the way his eyes crinkled before you rose onto your toes so you could kiss him before the smile faded. 

The flash of his camera captured the moment and you reluctantly pulled away as the sun began to set on another day spent living. The days were getting tiresome, your energy flagging as the medication changed from treating the illness to managing the pain. You had read enough to know that time was running out.

“We should get going, don’t want to miss our flight to Vegas.”

“About that…” he trailed off as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it in your hand. “I made a list of my own.”

Marry the woman of my dreams.

“I can only do it with you by my side.”

—

Pascale had created a beautiful headpiece for your wedding but when it came time to leave you hadn’t been able to place it on your head. A year ago you had only dreamt of the day you married Charles and in all those imagined scenes you had your hair styled up like she had crafted on the wig with pearl pins and a delicate tiara. But a lot had changed in a year, you had changed. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you look beautiful,” she said as she wiped her eyes. Your own mother was speechless as she pulled you into her arms and held you tight.

“I’m going to ruin my makeup if you two don’t stop crying.”

“Honey, let her go,” your dad said softly as he placed a hand on your mother’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

Your throat felt as if it were closing and for a second you held on tighter before you both opened your arms. “I love you,” you said to them all as you looked at the proud but sad smiles on their faces. “Thank you for making this possible, for both of us.”

Your father grabbed the wheelchair you had been using, the exhaustion sometimes too much for you to handle, but you shook your head. “I’m going to marry him on my own two feet.”

You knew Charles had a lot of help organising the wedding because there was no way he could have done it on his own. The entire paddock had come to a standstill at the end of Media Day and you found yourself walking down a makeshift aisle on the grid to the starting lights. 

Hundreds of friends joined your families on the track and you had no doubt that Charles had flown them all there at his own expense. 

“When you said married in Vegas, I thought you meant the White Chapel,” you whispered with a giggle.

Charles' smile grew at the sound and he took your hands in his. “That’s something tacky Pierre would do.”

“Hey,” the groomsman objected beside Charles. “Elvis isn’t tacky. Focus on your own wedding, mate.”

You laughed at the exchange before Lorenzo cleared his throat and your eyes widened as you realised he was the celebrant. “Is this legal?”

“The online certificate I got says so,” he said with a wink. “But if you’ve changed your mind I can skip the legal bits.”

Your eyes lit up with amusement. “No way, I’m not going to miss having you as a brother-in-law.”

“And I thought we were here because you wanted to marry me,” Charles joked. He had waited so long to marry you but now that the moment was here he was in no rush for it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, where you were lighthearted and smiling. Where you weren’t lost in thought but present in the moment, with him. 

“I do,” you said with a grin before peeking back at his older brother. “Does that count, can I kiss him now?”

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not quite, shall we get started?”

Charles could hardly keep still with his excitement. “Ready, baby?”

You reached into a hidden pocket in the dress and pulled out the engagement ring he proposed at Christmas with. Slipping it into your finger, you gave him a serious nod. “Now I am.”

—

“Good morning, Mrs Leclerc.”

You smiled as Charles kissed your shoulder blade and rolled you over to face him. He had already showered and dressed for the day before climbing back into bed with you and you peeked at the clock to see he would almost be late. 

“You should be at the track already,” you hummed between the sweet kisses he peppered across your skin. 

“Wasn’t going to miss watching you wake up as my beautiful wife for the first time.” His smile wavered as he kissed your forehead before pressing the back of his hand to it. “How are you feeling?”

“A little tired, but last night was worth the lack of sleep.”

He smirked and traced your lips longingly with his eyes. “Definitely worth it. But you don’t feel hot or cold?”

“Focus on FP1, Cha,” you said with a little push for him to get out of bed. “You’re going to be late.”

He playfully nipped your collarbone before getting off the bed and blowing you a kiss. “Rest up, mon amour, I’ll come back between the practices.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, more than the moon and the stars.”

“Hopeless romantic.”

“Love of my life. Fire in my loins. The apple of my-“

“Go away!” You tossed a pillow at him before falling back into the warm blankets with a laugh that turned to a yawn. “Profess your love to someone else and let me sleep.”

“Never,” he chuckled quietly as he watched your chest rise and fall into a steady rhythm. “It will only be you.”

Your health deteriorated rapidly after Vegas and your doctor urged you to return to Monaco, but you weren’t ready to leave just yet. There was only one thing left on your bucket list and it was within your grasp. Charles and Max were neck and neck in the championship but you had faith your husband would triumph in the end. So instead of heading home you remained by his side in Qatar and Abu Dhabi, letting him hire a medical team as a trade off for ignoring your doctor's advice.

It wasn’t just the season coming to an end and you could both feel it as Charles prepared for the final race. You didn’t have the strength to go to the track and see him start from pole, the prime position for the championship deciding race. You barely had the strength to stay awake for the whole race but you fought against the heaviness in your body and scanned the screens that had been brought into your room.

Pride made you heart light as you watched the world through Charles’ eyes. The onboard camera was clear ahead, all his competitors in his rear view, and as the laps passed by his lead grew wider. Charles was flying and he was taking you with him.

Charles took a seat on the centre podium as confetti rained down and fireworks exploded overhead. He wiped the sweat and champagne from his face before reaching into his race suit and grabbing the pen and paper he had tucked away.

Putting a strike through the last line he held it up triumphantly to the camera. “We did it, mon amour, we did it.”

You smiled as if he would see it and closed your eyes as you lost the battle. “I’m ready to go home now.”

The Bucket List:

Sleep under the northern lights 

Swim with sharks

Skinny dip (not with sharks)

See Christ the Redeemer

Bowl a strike

Go to every Disneyland once

Ride an elephant

Go to India for the colour festival 

Win an escape room

Learn to whistle 

Have a mud bath

Teach Charles to cook

Watch the Grand National horse race

Get a tattoo

Learn to use chopsticks

Throw beads at Mardi Gras 

Have my palm read

Try absinthe 

Ride a luge

Go to a rage room

Join the mile high club 

Catch a fish

Make a will

Bathe in healing waters 

Charles Leclerc - World Champion

Click here for the requested last day alive.

[ellieswifie]

hello, i love your writing, could u write another boyfriend! head canon but with chris?

︿︿ ੈ[ 📷 ] ༉‧₊˚✧

warnings: boyfriend!chris, completely fluff

authors note: yes ofc!! i actually got two other requests asking for a boyfriend!chris hc so i hope you all enjoy this!! thank you for all the love!!

˗ˋ.*✧·˚ ೃ࿔₊•

love language. chris love language is one hundred percent words of affirmation and gift giving. he’s complementing you every second of the day just to remind you that he always loves you. he’ll make cute little diy gifts for you the even mean the littlest, but he knows it makes you smile.

"i made you heart out of my gum wrapper."

"i bought you flowers because they made me think about you."

just small things like that would make his insides fill with butterflies and you feel very loved.

compliments. chris for sure compliments you any time of the day and just about everywhere. even when you feel horrible and gross, he’ll always tell you how beautiful you look and how much you make him smile.

pet names. now chris himself said that he would only refer to you as your name if you were dating, but let’s be real. he’ll do call you the most cringiest nicknames for girlfriends it would be so hard to tell if he was joking or not. he’ll definitely call you baby and babe plenty of times when he’s with you.

clingy. as the youngest sibling myself, i find myself very clingy when i’m around someone i love or very much care for. chris would totally always want to be near you or at least want to be touching you all the time.

you’d be taking a shower or doing your makeup in the bathroom, and chris would be sitting on the floor minding his own business but just enjoying your company.

when your cuddling or hugging, he likes to nudge his head in the crook of your neck because it makes him feel safe and never want to let go of you. he loves holding you and just always being with you.

pda. chris is all for pda. he likes just always touching you in public, or standing close beside you, giving you quick kisses, he just loves showing you off in public. sometimes he’ll straight up just make out with you when your sitting in the living room of his house and matt and nick are a few feet away.

they both extremely hate it, but chris loves just always touching you and kissing you.

"again guys?" matt would whine, covering his eyes. "get a fucking room."

long conversations. chris loves to talk to you and make you laugh all the time. when your feeling down and just want to talk, he’ll do everything in his power to make you feel comfortable and still have a smile on your face.

car rides. since chris can’t drive, when ever you, him, and his brothers are driving together he loves to sit in the backseat with you and sit as humanly close as possible. when you are driving, if you can or want to, and it’s just the two of you guys, chris loves to hold your hand or thigh while your driving. he’s definitely a passenger princess.

staying in. chris for sure prefers staying in then going out. he likes cuddling up on the couch or bed watching netflix with you or even with his brothers too. mostly he doesn’t like going out because he can’t take you anywhere without matt having to drive you guys.

supportive. no matter what’s going on in either of your lives, you guys are both every supportive of each others success, but chris is definitely more supportive of everything positive going on in your life. he makes sure you are always loved and that you feel safe.

teasing. chris loves light teasing. when he asks you if your a chris girl one day, he’ll talk about you being a chris girl about everyday.

overall, chris would be the boyfriend you know you can always smile and feel yourself around. he’ll make you comfortable and safe, and most of all love you very much.

[musicloverxoxo7]

I need to touch you – featuring Namjoon

Idol!Namjoon   x   fem!reader

Summary: After a fight you and Namjoon haven’t spoken to each other in a day. You also haven’t allowed him to touch you. He’s had enough now.

Themes/warnings: smut with a bit of plot, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, tying up, marking, nipple play, fingering, bit of fluff, established relationship

Wordcount: ca. 1.6k

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

Even though it’s been about 24 hours since the fight, you’re still sulking a bit. Mostly you’re mad that Namjoon didn’t send his usual lunch text. Even if you’re fighting, you still want that.

You put down your phone and go into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. It’s been a long day for you as well. Work was good, but eventful.

The opening of the front door makes you turn. On a normal day, Namjoon might not be home for another hour or two.

Quickly, you turn away from the door again. He doesn’t need to see just how much you’ve longed for him. You pick out a cup and select a teabag.

“I’m home, honey”, comes the low voice from behind you.

“I heard that.”

You can feel him come closer and stop just short of you.

“Turn around… please.”

You put down the cup and turn around. He’s towering over you. His eyes look devastated. At the same time, he’s sucking in his cheeks in that hot Namjoon way, which is always a major turn on.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Enough, honey. I can’t do this. Let me touch you, please.”

“I never told you to stop touching me.”

You are engulfed in a hug so quickly you have the air knocked out of you. His strong arms hold you very tightly.

“You told me to get away from you.”

“Yeah, for, like, half an hour until I calmed down. You needn’t have slept on the sofa. If I’d wanted you to, I’d have told you.”

Namjoon pulls back his head a little. You look up at him. Your lips meet in a hungry kiss. His hands start roaming over your body as if he hadn’t touched you in weeks. You rest your hands on his firm pecks.

With one arm firmly around your waist, Namjoon starts walking backwards towards the bedroom. You only realize now that he’s still wearing his coat, hat and scarf.

You break the kiss.

“We should stop fighting like that.”

“And deprive us of the chance to have makeup sex? No way.”

Namjoon turns until the back of your legs hits the bed. He eyes you with a fond smile.

“My pretty honey. I hope you know what your lack of proper communication means.”

You hold up your hands, putting the wrists together.

“So arrest me, officer.”

His dimples appear as he smiles. He pulls off his scarf and ties it around your wrists with a series of complicated knots.

“Tightness?”

You tug on it.

“Works.”

“I’m arresting you for grave bodily harm, ma’am.”

Namjoon spins you around. Your back meets his chest.

“Ah, what a shame. What’s the punishment?”

“It’s quite severe, I fear.”

His hands make quick work of unbuttoning your blouse. Since you ditched the bra as soon as you entered the apartment, his hands now roam freely over your boobs and stomach.

“Mh, honey, you have the nicest boobs”, he whispers against your neck, cupping them. His mouth moves up and down your neck, shoulder and jawline, nibbling a little here and there. You’re like putty in his hands and he knows it.

“Stay right there and don’t move, or the punishment will be even harsher.”

His hands are gone and so is his body. You pout. It feels wrong and empty without him. Behind you, you hear the rustling of clothes.

It doesn’t take long until his chest touches your back again. You’re pretty sure he’s stripped off everything but his underwear. The urge to touch him is nearly all-encompassing at this point. It’s like he can read your mind.

“No, honey. You can’t touch me. Don’t even ask.”

You pout again. You know that if he could see your face, he’d give in. He starts kissing and marking your neck, sucking on it until you can feel the sting. His hands travel to your nipples. He twists and tucks on them until you feel like crying because it’s so nice and they’re so sensitive.

One of his hands leaves your nipple and moves down your stomach. He unbuttons your pants and impatiently slides his hand into your underwear. When he touches your clit, you’re barely holding on anymore.

You rub against his hand, trying to get him to move faster. Your stomach muscles contract and your legs shake. The high is nearly there.

Namjoon withdraws both his hands.

Your legs give up and you fall onto the bed.

“Why did you do that? I was so close.”

“Bad girls don’t get to cum.”

You turn onto your back and pull a grimace.

He smiles at you. The cute dimple smile. No matter how much he looks like an angel, he can be mean.

“Scoot back a little.” His voice is soft but authoritative. Years of practice. You do as you’re told.

Namjoon kneels down and pulls on your pants. You lift your hips. They come off, along with your underwear. Then he takes your legs, drapes them over his shoulders and pulls you closer until your clit nearly touches his nose.

“Are you going to deny me again?”

“We’ll see.”

You try to weigh if his tone sounds more like no or yes, but your brain decides it needs to focus elsewhere when Namjoon dives in with his tongue.

Having been together for years has taught him how you like things. Like the way he draws little circles with his tongue. You eagerly lean into the touch.

“Are you going to be a good girl now, y/n”, Namjoon asks, replacing his tongue with his fingers.

You raise your head to look at him. His eyes are dark and he’s smiling ever so slightly.

“Yes, I’ll be your good girl.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

He withdraws his hand. You feel naked and buck your hips to get some traction. Nothing.

“Please, Joon, please”, your whining sounds almost like a sob.

The tough guy façade melts and his eyes soften.

“You want me to keep going, honey?”

“Yes, please. Please. I want to cum.”

Namjoon dives back in with his tongue, gently playing with your clit. His fingers run over your entrance. You tilt your hips to make them slide into you. He chuckles. The vibrations make your eyes roll backwards.

He slips one finger into you and curls it right against your G-spot.

“Joon”, you moan.

Being denied twice, you can’t hold back much longer. The orgasm makes you nearly smother Namjoon with your thighs as you tighten around his finger. It takes you longer than normal to come down from your high.

You lie there, hands still tied, completely spent. Namjoon comes out from between your legs.

He picks you up and positions you in the middle of the bed. You aren’t too tired to appreciate the way his strong arms feel around you. With nimble fingers he unties his scarf and throws it off the bed.

You mouth quirks up into a smile. No wonder he always loses things.

Namjoon positions himself between your thighs and props his arms up next to your sides. He smiles down at you. Your bodies barely touch.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.” You raise your hand and stroke his cheek. He leans into the touch.

“Are you tired?”

“A little. But I’m up for more.”

You run your hand down his body until you can palm the head of his dick. You can feel his entire body tense.

“You have to do the work, though.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. With one hand, he pushes down his underwear and guides his dick to your entrance. You rub against him. He always feels so nice.

Slowly, he pushes into you. The feeling of fulness is welcome after all the teasing before.

He bottoms out and lets out a groan.

You gently nudge him with your hips to start moving. He gets the message. The rhythm he sets is relentless. Each powerful, quick thrust has you clawing at his back. Your insides, still sensitive from the previous orgasm, get the right kind of friction to have you squeezing around him again, your legs turning into jelly.

Namjoon is panting above you. His sweatiness means there’s no friction as your bodies move in tandem. You dig your heels into the mattress to make the penetration even deeper. It feels like your soul leaves your body as you convulse under him.

The second high hits you.

You dig your nails into his back, dry sobs racking your body.

With a grunt, Namjoon lets go as well, spilling inside you.

He collapses on top of you, making sure to keep some of his weight off of you.

“How about next time we fight, we skip most of the not talking and just get to the good part?”

“I’m all for it”, Namjoon mumbles into your shoulder. He pushes himself up a little so he can look at you. “I hate when we don’t talk, and I can’t touch you. I want to hold you when we fall asleep.”

“I hated not talking as well. How about we work on our arguing techniques?”

“I’ll go to the library tomorrow and find us some good, recent books on it.”

You cup his cheeks and pull his face down again. Your lips meet in a gentle kiss. When you break apart, he looks down at you as if you were the only person that mattered in the world.

“I look forward to marrying you next spring, honey.”

He gets up and pulls out of you slowly.

“I’ll be back with a washcloth in a moment.”

As he walks towards the bathroom and you watch his nice ass, you think for the millionth time that you definitely are the lucky one.

© musicloverxoxo7, 2022

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work. Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

[stardust-sunset]

Hiiii um, idk if this is in your rules, but could you maybe do hc with the gang meeting a male greaser who does makeup? Nothing crazy, but the dude wears eyeliner, smudged black eyeshadow, stuff like that. I love ur hc’s!!

Sure!! As for my rules (I really need to make a new pinned…….) it’s honestly just no ships, nothing that’s inherently wrong, no romantic stuff (on this blog at least, i plan on making an x reader blog tomorrow) so you’re all good! Also I appreciate the compliment! Thanks!

Ponyboy

Honestly Ponyboy would be a bit intrigued. I mean, he doesn’t often see greasers that wear makeup and aren’t girls. He doesn’t see a problem with it, but he may ask questions! He may come off as a little rude or sarcastic but he doesn’t mean it-he genuinely wants to know why you wear makeup! If you convince him maybe he’ll even let you show him how you do it. He genuinely is a sweet boy, just a bit curious!

Sodapop

I feel like Soda probably used some form of makeup at one point or another but he could never get it right. He likes experimenting with new things! So when he sees you he’s immediately like “WOAH” He, like Pony, asks a lot of questions, most of them being “can you do my eyes 🥺” (do it, he’ll live you forever)

Darry

Darry honestly doesn’t care. He doesn’t like getting into other people’s lives, so he doesn’t really bother. He was a bit surprised at first and maybe asked like “those your real lashes?” but if you wanted to talk to him about it I feel like he would try to listen. He wouldn’t really care-it’s not that he’s trying to be rude, it’s just how he is. He’s too busy in his own life to care what others do, so long as it isn’t hurting anyone!

Johnny

Johnny is like Pony too. Confused because he didn’t think greaser boys could go out with anything even remotely feminine without being jumped and mugged, so seeing you so confident makes him admire you a bit. He never talks to you, so you have to insinuate. Maybe he comes to you after a rough beating and asks you to cover his face with makeup so no one can see the marks (baby no :( ) but during the process he asks a lot of questions about the makeup and how you do it.

Dallas

Dally probably makes fun of you. Let’s be honest. He doesn’t really get things that are diffeeent. He’s probably vandalized your makeup before. But at the end of the day that’s just who he is. He will warn you to not go to the west side looking like that but when you do, he doesn’t stop you. God forbid you got mugged he’d be dragging you off and mumbling “I told you so”’s under his breath. Maybe he’ll buy (steal) you new makeup. But the chances are futile.

Two Bit

Two Bit is well acquainted with makeup thanks to his kid sister. He learned how to apply it himself because his sister used to beg him to help her put on “big girl makeup” and he wanted to practice on himself first. He himself looks amazing with eyeliner (musical!two bit would eat it up bffr) and if he sees another guy who can do makeup? You best believe he’s making a new friend. He maybe even brings you to his place so you can do his sisters makeup! He’s genuinely really supportive with it.

Steve

Steve doesn’t get it. He honest to god does not understand why you wish to wear makeup. But he doenst stop you. But he also doesn’t bother to hold in any snide remarks either (soda comes to your defense tho most of the time). Steve would probably ask questions about why you do it and what you like doing with it. In the end he may think it’s odd but he doesn’t really stop you. If it makes you happy, he’ll settle with being a bit of an asshole. But catch anyone else saying a nothing about you and his hands will be FLYING.

hope these are tood 🙏🙏 i didn’t really know what to do 😭

[hellwurld]

it's a gift! for @routeriver! for the @mcytblrholidayexchange! hi, i hope you enjoy some foolish & tina shenanigans, with quite a bit of bagina and empanada in there too, because i love those girls!

ao3 link

Foolish is a fantastic friend.

Honestly, he’d say that he’s a pretty great guy all around, and frankly, he’s been keeping it all together pretty well for a guy in his situation. He got forced into a death game, and then there were all the eggs, and the duel, and the boat leaving him behind as a meteor struck. He’s cracked to pieces, he can’t see out of one eye, and he’s more shark than he’s ever been before, which doesn’t seem like a great sign.

But, comparatively to some people, like Max who died, Foolish is doing pretty well. He looks like shit, sure, but he’s doing well.

Everyone looked like shit at the end of Purgatory, it’s part of being in Purgatory, so Foolish thought everyone would be on the same page.

Tina, apparently, didn’t get the memo.

“Okay, I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Foolish says, squinting at Tina. His vision is blurry, and he knows that he’s been going a little crazy since this started, but he doesn’t think he’s gotten to the stage of hallucinating yet. This means that, unfortunately, his very close, top ten favorite, longest known friend, Tina, is actually reapplying makeup. Tina glances at him in disdain, and makes a face.

“You wouldn’t think that, would you?” She says, looking him up and down. Foolish sputters in disbelief.

“You can’t— Tina, what? Tina, I— You cannot be serious right now?” Foolish hisses, whipping his head around like someone is going to come out with a camera and TV crew and tell him he’s on Punk’d. Tina just hums in acknowledgment, pulling at her face so that she can put a pencil-looking thing to her under eye in a way that cannot be comfortable.

Listen, Foolish loves Tina. People talk, have talked for years and years, about how they seem to butt heads, how they don’t really seem to get along, but Tina and him are friends. Like, real friends. They’re weird, in their own way, but Foolish always has weird friends. He’s friends with Bad, of all people, so everyone should really start to expect his friends to be weird. But, this is where Foolish is drawing the line, because they need to leave. They needed to leave hours ago, but Foolish couldn’t find Tina anywhere.

“Tina—” Foolish tries, but Tina shushes him, waving him off.

“Shhh,” She says, shoving her hand in his face, and he just stares at her with wide eyes. He can’t believe her, this can’t be real.

“Am I— Tina, are you real? This isn’t real, I— This isn’t real, you’re pranking me, this is a prank—” Foolish rambles, collapsing to lay down in the sand, hands over his eyes. The sun is a bright, glaring red, and Foolish thinks that he is going to be the first person to ever experience what nuclear radiation does to a totem. He’s not that interested in being a scientific anomaly, but that’s just how life goes.

Tina does not seem to care much about his crisis. When he tells her that he doesn’t want to become the Federation’s grand scientific discovery, and that his life isn’t worth a Nobel Peace Prize, or any prize, she just shoots him an absent thumbs up. Her tongue sticks out in focus, and Foolish feels a little bit like he’s going to snap into pieces.

“Tina—”

“Oh my God,” Tina hisses, “I’ll be ready in a second, just wait, asshole!”

Foolish isn’t proud of this, okay? He’s a nice guy. He’s a great guy. But, and this is important, he’s known Tina long enough that he doesn’t really need to be nice to her.

So, Foolish does what he has to do. He lassos Tina, picks her up, and launches her into the ocean.

For the first few miles, Tina just floats on top of the sea, letting Foolish do all the hard work of swimming so that she can mope around. Then, Foolish decides that he would also like to breathe air for a second, and she attempts to stay under the water so she doesn’t have to talk to him.

Foolish thinks about letting her drown. He doesn’t let her, but only because she would absolutely tell everyone that he left her to die, and he really does not want to deal with that.

It’s only on hour three that she says something, and honestly he’s regretting wishing that she would talk to him at all.

“Could we not have built a boat?” She says, spitting water out of her mouth as he speeds up. He can’t maintain the speed, but it’s good to keep her on her toes. He dives under the water too, just to humble her. It’s a little petty, but Foolish is a little petty, and she’s been so put together this whole time, that he just can’t really help himself.

She starts yelling as soon as he surfaces, which he takes as a good sign that he’s succeeded in making her angry, until he realizes that it’s actually kind of awful, because he’s the one stuck with an angry Tina for the next few hours. She starts swimming faster, just to get closer so she can yell in his ear, but she can’t keep up. He doesn’t fault her for that, because Tina is wearing seven layers of clothing at any given time and Foolish is incredibly aerodynamic. Foolish is also a shark, but he thinks the aerodynamics is what really gives him the advantage.

Once Tina has finished yelling at him, and once Foolish is done trying to get her to yell more, they drift in silence. Foolish knows which direction the island is, and the wind is, thankfully, pushing the ocean that way so he doesn’t have to work as hard, so for a little while, he’s able to chill. Tina has decided to dedicate herself to dethorning the lasso around her. It was fashioned from a vine that seemed to be pretty painful for everyone that wasn’t made of precious metals with skin that isn’t as thick as a sharks. Foolish knows Tina’s durable enough to not feel the thorns, and even if she wasn’t, the many layers of clothing do a good job at protecting her.

She’s probably just bored, being alone with her thoughts. Tina’s never liked that. Foolish doesn’t mind it nearly as much as she does. Foolish likes to think, contrary to popular belief. He used to always think aloud, but once he started living around people again, he realized that talking to yourself isn’t the best trait to have. So, he tries to keep in on lock, at least when he’s thinking about things he doesn’t want to share.

Foolish shares a lot with Tina, but it’s been a long week, and Foolish has a lot to think about for himself, so he lets her struggle on her own.

There’s something itching at him. It might be all the people left behind, by the boat they couldn’t make it to, and by Foolish who couldn’t find them: Cellbit, Baghera, Etoiles, and Bad. It might be Max, who Foolish is still trying to wrap his head around because he died and he also nuked the island. It’s not that though, because it’s something smaller. He wracks his brain, trying to figure out what’s bothering him, because he knows it’s something, someone.

He thinks it has to do with Tina.

And then Tina screams, and the thought is left behind, because holy shit, who the fuck is that?

“That’s a person, oh God—” Tina starts yelling, so Foolish starts yelling because oh, God, that is a person.

There is a person, sinking in the water beneath them, and Foolish makes the split second decision of ‘I should probably help this guy’ and dives under the water, reaching blindly for the pale, thrashing person in the water. When he makes contact, the person is distinctly furry, and Foolish recognizes the bright orange vest of the workers. The worker tries to fight Foolish’s hold, but Foolish is strong enough to get a good grasp, and he doesn’t care at all if he has to knock this guy out to stop them from drowning.

So, he does that, and he ties part of the rope around them too. The worker is... weirdly buoyant, so it’s once again, just him and Tina swimming, this time with a furry mass bobbing beside them. It’s weird, and Tina hisses every time the worker floats a little too close to her, but it’s altogether pretty alright. They make small talk, but Tina always seems half-focused on watching the guy out of the corner of her eye.

Foolish can’t remember much, but Tina being wary, paranoid, doesn’t strike him as especially strange. It should, probably, because Tina has seemed fairly upbeat and positive the whole time she’s been on the island, but it doesn’t.

Foolish puts Tina into the same category as Bad. They’re weird, obviously, and Foolish knows there’s some sort of complicated history with them, but he just can’t remember. He tries not to let it bother him. Some things he can’t change, and island-induced amnesia seems to be one of those things.

She seems happy enough when they spot the beaches of the Island, but Foolish supposes that anyone would be happy at that point.

When they climb onto land, Tina detaches herself from Foolish almost instantly, ripping the rope from around her body. They drag the unconscious worker onto land, and as Foolish stabilizes the guy, Tina scrunches the water out of her hair. Agent 18 meets them, and after a small crisis where Foolish has to confirm that yes, he is alive and yes, they should probably stop having funerals for him, they’re able to escort the other worker into the Federation building. Apparently, he was not normal, and was a worker from the other island, which makes a lot more sense.

Tina seems glad to go along with them, lamenting the ways she was rejected from the Federation as an employee. Foolish isn’t really holding out hope that she’ll actually become a worker, due to her... associations. He says as much.

“I don’t think they’ll let you in,” Foolish says, and Tina frowns at him.

“Wha— Why not?” She asks incredulously, crossing her arms, “I have all the qualifications.”

“Oh yeah,” Foolish says sarcastically, “Like being a barista! So highly qualified.” She rolls her eyes, and elbows him harshly.

“Yeah, exactly,” She says, squinting up at him, challenging him, “I’ll have you know I’m incredibly skilled.”

“I’m sure you are,” Foolish placates, before pausing. He has to figure out how to say this in a way that won’t make her yell at him. He looks to Agent 18 for help, but he is studiously ignoring both of them in favor of arranging a small prison cell around the Unnamed Freaky Eye Worker. Foolish takes a deep breath, and turns to Tina.

“Based on your...” He pauses, and Tina looks like she’s about four seconds away from smacking him, “associations, they’d probably think you’re a spy.”

“My associations?” Tina asks, and now Foolish is confused, because it seems pretty obvious. Pretty cut-and-dry, if he says so himself.

“Well, y’know, you and Bagi?” Foolish says it slowly, in case Tina is concussed and needs him to speak slower than usual. She looks a little spacey, eyes wide and mildly panicked. He continues nervously, “She’s not really on great terms with the Federation, and well— like, y’know, if she’s not on their good side, then you’re not on their good side. It’s like those people who are attached to each other and can’t be separated, like twins, conjoined twins—”

Now, Foolish could’ve kept talking. He’s pretty good at it. Tina doesn’t really let him, because Tina is Tina and Tina is a freak, so she starts coughing violently in response.

Foolish immediately stops talking, rushing over panicked to Tina because if she chokes and dies now, he’s gonna be so pissed. Tina is wide-eyed, flushed, and Foolish thinks that he either majorly fucked up his perception of events or Tina is wildly more concussed than he thought she was.

“What makes you—” She coughs again, and clears her throat. “What makes you say that?” She asks. She seems normal, but Foolish knows Tina, and Foolish knows that something is very wrong. Her eyes are sharp, and her tone is frantic, and Foolish gets the sinking suspicion that he has triggered something that he’s not sure the fallout of, but he’s sure that he doesn’t want to know the fallout of.

“Nothing,” Foolish says, turning away from Tina and pretending like he can’t feel her eyes boring into his skull. Agent 18 has, conveniently, slipped out of the room, so it’s just Foolish, Tina, and an unconscious, furry cyclops sleeping like a brick in a prison cell. “It was, uh— I was just saying, y’know, because everyone knows that you and her are like— Well, It’s nothing.”

Foolish is so good at this. He should win an award. He should win ten awards.

“It’s not nothing!” She yells, obviously not caring if their prisoner wakes up, “What do you mean everyone knows—”

“I didn’t mean anything, I just said it randomly!”

“Well, I’m just randomly telling you to continue!” Tina hisses, and Foolish feels a beat of anger in his chest. It’s a little like arguing with Bad, an age old familiarity that shouldn’t attach itself to someone that he really doesn’t have any working memories about.

“Why do you care so much?” Foolish says, like an idiot, because obviously Tina would want to know why everyone thought her and Cellbit’s cool, but kinda insane, sister were involved in some sort of... deal, or whatever.

“I don’t care,” Tina says petulantly, like an even bigger idiot, because obviously, she does.

“Obviously, you do!” Foolish says, mildly hysterical because he’s the one that’s been getting yelled at for something he thought was supposed to be obvious.

“You’re the one that cares, asshole!” Foolish’s eye twitches, but Tina just kind of glares at him, her tail lashing behind her. Foolish isn’t really paying attention to it, but if he was, he’d see that it’s less of a cat tail and more of a demon’s, with a spade tip and a sharp look to it. Tina’s eyes are dark with slit pupils, but Foolish is more focused on his own show of dramatics, tossing his hands above his head as his own eyes glow in frustration. Through the cracks in his body, a totem’s glowing light can be seen, simmering under the surface in a mildly angry boil.

“Oh my god, whatever,” Foolish groans, pushing his hood down as he runs his hand through still-wet hair. He slides down the wall to sit down, energy leaving him. He was already tired, and the adrenaline of purgatory, and having to swim for his life, and then the thrilling argument with Tina had already started to leave him. He’s just kinda tired now, and he can feel the water seeping under his skin through the cracks, leaving him feeling just kind of damp. Through just a look at Tina, he can tell that she feels similarly, collapsing down to sit next to him.

She still looks pristine, Foolish notes bitterly. Her skin is clear and glowing, and her hair has light waves from the water but no knots, and from what Foolish can see, there’s not a single cut or scar or burn on her. It’s honestly kind of frustrating.

They both just breathe, for a minute or two. Foolish lets himself wind down, but Tina seems lost in thought, brow furrowing every so often as she mumbles to herself quietly. She looks up at him, at one point, and Foolish is too tired to do anything but just kinda look back, expectantly.

“The Federation thinks we have something going on?” Tina asks, whispering. It’s a stark contrast to before, and Foolish can’t help but continue to feel like he missed something.

“Yeah,” Foolish says, and once he starts, he can’t really stop. “But, I mean, It’s not just them. We all thought something was going on, and— well, like, Cellbit said he crashed some sort of date, and Bagi told you she loved you that one time—”

“She what?” Tina interrupts shrilly, almost squealing at him. Foolish doesn’t quite block his eyes, but he flinches enough that Tina grimaces in apology, repeating herself quietly. “She what?” She says again, this time in more of a stage whisper.

“Yeah,” Foolish says, mildly amused, “I thought you were just being nice about it, but, like, I guess she said it as you were leaving. It was right at the beginning, like when teams were getting picked, and then you went to your team— and, well, like, we all knew she liked you.”

Tina looks a little shell shocked, and Foolish understands why. It’s a lot to hear that some girl is in love with you when you had no idea. Foolish has had his fair share of clueless days, so he empathizes with Tina not knowing. Tina’s very pretty, and people tend to fall in love with you when you’re incredibly pretty and kind and funny. Foolish would know. So, he’s very willing to be there as Tina figures out what to do.

“It’s okay, Tina,” He says, because he’s a great, and incredibly observant friend, “It’s just that with her liking you, the Federation won’t let you join, even if you don’t like her back. It’s very unfair.”

He’s so good at this friendship stuff.

“Wait,” Tina says, and Foolish waits, because he’s great. Tina pulls back, “You think I don’t like Bagi?”

Foolish is confused. Tina is confused. They’re both just staring at each other, as Foolish tries to piece together the puzzle in his brain. Bagi likes Tina, Foolish knew this. Tina likes Bagi, and Foolish did not know this. Together, this means that—

Something clicks.

“Oh my god,” Foolish says.

“Foolish,” Tina groans, already tired of him and his revelations.

“Oh my god!”

“Foolish, it’s really not that big a deal—”

“Tina, I had no idea—”

“You’re yelling, Foolish,”

“You’re gay?”

“Yes, I like her, it’s really not—” Tina pauses. Foolish is looking at her, incredulous. “Foolish,” Tina says, completely and utterly shell-shocked, “You didn’t know I was gay?”

“No idea,” Foolish says, “You didn’t give off any of the signs.”

“Foolish, I’ve been obsessed with her since the moment she joined. I said that she made me nervous and that she was the coolest person I’d ever met, and that I desperately wanted her to like me—”

“Oh my god,” Foolish groans, and Tina cackles at him.

“You didn’t know?” She says, breathlessly, like she can’t believe it because she can’t.

“I had no idea, I thought—” He gestures aimlessly, mildly pathetic, and Tina can’t stop laughing at him.

“What did,” She interrupts herself, laughing even harder, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, “What the fuck did you think?”

“I didn’t realize!” Foolish whines, and she doubles over, almost rolling on the ground from how hard she’s laughing. He’s embarrassed, but he’s not terribly surprised. Tina’s been obsessive over Bagi since the moment they met, but it didn’t strike him as weird or crush-y, because his mind was telling him that’s how Tina is. That’s how Tina was. Vaguely, he can grasp memories of her acting like this before, with warrior girls and tricky fairies, and he just— hadn’t thought of it.

She’s always been Tina to him, since the moment they re-met on the island. She’s indescribable, because he can’t remember anything about her, just that she is her and he’s known her and loved her for centuries. She’s his best friend, and he can’t describe her at all. Part of him is desperately, terribly sad, despite how he’s laughing with her now, because this is basic stuff. He thinks that, maybe, before the island, he would’ve known this, and he would’ve been there to meet all the girlfriends and know all the inside gossip. This time, though, he didn’t. He couldn’t remember, and then they went to Purgatory.

There’s so much about Tina that he used to know, that he should remember, and he doesn’t. It makes him a little sick, and it makes him a little sad. Mostly, it just makes him feel empty.

Foolish is a good friend, and he’s an observant guy, he really is. He can pick up on things easily, and he thinks that, maybe, in another life, he would’ve known this about Tina instantly, would’ve remembered and categorized it away in his head. The island makes things slippery, makes things harder to hold onto, both memories and objects and people.

Foolish wants to say this. Tell Tina that he’s sorry he forgot and that he misses her and that he knows her but can’t remember her and that he wants to remember.

“Congrats on coming out,” he says instead, because it’s not the time for that.

“Thanks,” Tina replies, instead of saying I know. Foolish can hear the words underneath it anyway. He wipes at the tears in his eyes, formulated from laughing so hard he almost cracked another rib, and Tina does the same, waving at her eyes with her hands, so she doesn’t mess up her makeup even further.

Oh my god, the makeup.

“Was the makeup for Bagi?” Foolish asks, and Tina stops, glancing over to him, wide-eyed.

“Um,” Tina says, “It depends. Does it look good?” Foolish groans loudly, which makes Tina flush in embarrassment, checking herself in a mirror situated on the wall to make sure it’s still good. It’s messy, from her dive in the ocean, but Tina still looks lovely, nearly sent from Heaven. The demonic influence helps, her form shifting to always look tempting and perfect compared to others, a secret invitation to Hell disguised as a welcome into Heaven, but it’s mostly her own skill and dedication to presentation.

“Looks like shit,” Foolish lies, and she smacks the side of his head with her hand.

“Oh, fuck off,” She grumbles, wiping off bits of watery mascara that have become runny due to the swim. Foolish wheezes a loud windshield-wiper laugh. Tina startles at the noise, which only causes him to laugh even louder.

There’s a grumble from the bed, and they both whip around to see the Eyeball Worker blink a bleary eye awake. This is their cue to run, and Foolish doesn’t hesitate to jump up and throw Tina over his shoulder, slamming open doors and sprinting out of the building at an unrivaled, never-seen-before speed.

“I’ll drop you at her house,” Foolish wheezes, and Tina screams in his ear as revenge.

“Put me down, asshole, I’ll find my own way home,” She says, and Foolish grins, slowing and stopping to drop her unceremoniously on her ass. He waves goodbye, as he runs in another direction, and she dazedly waves back, wobbling as she gets back on her feet.

“Fucking scumbag,” Tina says, shaking herself out, tail whipping behind her. Tina combs a hand through her hair, checking to make sure that the cat ear accessories placed over her horns are still in place, and turning around to make sure her tail is still looking like a cat tail. As she’s checking herself over, she hears a twig snap behind her somewhere, and she sighs as she fully turns to look.

“Foolish, I swear to—”

It’s Bagi. A tired, messy-looking, still kind-of-dirty Bagi, but Bagi nonetheless. It’s also a Bagi with a little girl in her arms. She’s tiny, and wide-eyed, and has tiny little horns that mimic Tina’s peeking out from under a floppy, pancake-esque hat.

“Um,” Tina says, eloquently, before her brain catches up with her and her face flares with embarrassment because, really, Tina, that’s what you say to your kind-of-girlfriend, kind-of-not that you haven’t seen for days holding a child that looks kinda like you.

“Hi,” Bagi says, like Tina’s not an idiot, and Tina falls a little bit more in love with her.

“Hi,” Tina says, because she is an idiot. She tries not to think about how bad she wants to kill herself out of embarrassment, as Bagi tries to not think about how gorgeous Tina is even with, especially with, wet hair and smudged makeup.

“Hi!” The little girl says, “I’m Empanada.” She holds out an expectant hand, and looks up at Tina with all the confidence and flair that Tina never had as a kid.

“Hello, Empanada,” Tina says, smiling softly, “I’m Tina.”

“I know,” Empanada says frankly, and Tina recoils slightly, still smiling but this time far more confusedly. Empanada clearly notices this, because she continues. “You’re my mom,” she says, “It was on my certificate. That means you can call me Em.” She rummages around in her dress pockets, squirming in Bagi’s arms before she hands Tina a carefully folded certificate that proclaims Tina as her mother, along with Bagi, Jaiden, Mouse, and Niki.

“Ah,” Tina says, “It’s lovely to meet you then, Emmy.” The nickname slips out, but Em just grins widely and holds out two arms, making grabby hands until Tina leans forward enough for her to wrap her arms tightly around Tina’s neck. She jumps out of Bagi’s arms and clings to Tina in a strong enough hug to knock her breathless.

“Hi, Eomma Tina!” Em says, head tucked over Tina’s shoulder making it so that she’s talking just loud enough for Tina’s ears to mildly ache, “It’s so, so, so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Mamãe Bagi. She said that you were very nice and very smart, and she said you were really pretty, and she wasn’t lying, because you are!”

Tina turns to look at Bagi, who’s turning more red by the second. “Em,” Bagi says, mildly frantic and wide-eyed as she studiously does not make eye contact with Tina, but Em just barrels on.

“Honestly, I thought she was gonna be lying, because she clearly likes you, but she wasn’t, which is nice,” Em says, before pulling away to frown at Tina. “Do you like her too? Because she really likes you, and it’s not a normal like, but a like-like, and it would be cool if my moms were dating.”

Tina hums, and out of the corner of her eye she can see Bagi redden even further, which she didn’t even think was fully possible.

“Em,” Bagi chides, “Tina just got back. Let’s not overwhelm her with questions.” She takes Em from Tina’s arms, avoiding eye contact and physical contact by any means necessary.

“I don’t like Mamãe Bagi,” Tina says, lowering herself to Em’s line of vision. Em frowns, and Tina can hear Bagi’s breath hitch slightly, and she decides to take a risk. She taps Em’s nose, and when the girl scrunches her nose, Tina laughs softly.

“I love Bagi,” Tina says, and when it registers in her brain, Em beams with a huge smile, turning in Bagi’s arms to look up at Bagi. Tina hurriedly takes Em’s face in her hands, and when Em looks at her quizzically, Tina puts a finger up to her mouth in a shushing motion.

“Shh,” Tina whispers loudly, enough that Bagi can hear but quiet enough that Em thinks it’s a real whisper, “You can’t tell her before I do. It’s a secret.”

Em nods gravely, and makes a zipping motion over her mouth, before turning back into Bagi’s arms and giggling to herself. Tina rises from where she was crouched, and resolutely does not look at Bagi as she links their arms. She allows herself to grasp Bagi’s upper arm softly, as she walks so close to her that they’re knocking into each other.

“Let’s go home,” Tina says, finally looking at Bagi. Bagi doesn’t say much, just nods with a stupid smile on her face and lets Tina drag all three of them to her house, content to listen fondly as Em and Tina chatter quickly with each other.

[sturnsbae]

PROMPT LIST! — ☆

disclaimer: you are MORE than welcome to suggest your own ideas as well! also, please do not combine more than 3 prompts! and don’t forget to please clarify the prompts when you request!! <3

-

FLUFF

1. "you're the only one who can calm him down"

2. “your fans don't like me"

3. “i’m here baby, don't worry"

4. "i love you more than anyone"

5. “come cuddle me"

6. “i want attention"

7. “quit stealing all the pillows!”

8. “you’re my new pillow”

9. “i’m so drunk i think i love you”

10. “there’s room for two!”

11. “stop being grumpy”

12. "aww you're blushing!"

13. “you make me feel safe”

14. “can i get your number?"

15. “i’m scared to meet your family"

16. “i love your family, they make me feel so welcome"

17. “i like showing you off”

18. “i miss you"

19. “i need you right now"

20. "that's the prettiest fan i've ever seen"

21. “i’m so stressed out”

22. "lets have a movie night"

23. “can i do your makeup?"

24. "dance with me"

25. “it's a tiktok trend i'm sorry!"

26. “do this tiktok with me"

27. “let's go on a drive"

28. “you're drunk, i'll help you"

29. “i like that nickname"

30. "i like that outfit on you

31. “my clothes look better on you anyways"

32. “bake with me”

33. "let's go shopping"

34. “i’m sick"

35. “you're ticklish?!"

36. “let me teach you how to ice skate"

37. “take me to get my wisdom teeth out"

38. “have you seen my hoodie?"

39. “stop video taping me this isn't funny!"

40. “don't you dare post that"

41. “i look ugly”

42. “he won't stop talking about you”

—

ANGST / SAD

1. “was this all just a joke to you?”

2. "we're just hooking up, it's nothing serious"

3. "why don't you ever post me?"

4. "i’ll change for you, i promise"

5. "i got in a fight because of you"

6. "i thought you cheated, i'm sorry"

7. "no need for attitude!"

8. "yeah, i'm jealous"

9. "forgive me?"

10. "they’re my ex, we broke up for a reason don’t worry”

11. “are you really that oblivious?”

12. “i want this to be real, not fake anymore”

13. “yeah i like you, dipshit”

14. “i want you, not them.”

15. “can’t you make some time for me?”

16. “i don’t even know who you are anymore!”

17. “forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

18. “don’t ever do that again!”

19. “do you even love me anymore?”

20. “can you shut up and listen to someone other than yourself for once in your life?”

21. “i told you not to fall in love with me.”

22. “the worst thing is, that even after all of that, i’m still in love with you.”

23. “why are you even here?”

24. “are you even listening to me?!”

25. “if you love me, you’ll let me go”

26. “i cant keep doing this to myself!”

27. “you don’t know me, so don’t act like you do.”

—

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

1. “you’re my tutor? absolutely not.”

2. “you haven’t called me an asshole yet today, everything okay?”

3. “i guess were partners for this…” “oh please someone kill me now.”

4. “just cause our parents are friends doesn’t mean we are”

5. “stop following me around like a lost puppy!” … “maybe you being around isn’t so bad.”

6. “congratulations, i guess.” “oh, are you done being an asshole now?”

7. “don’t feel special that i’m here, my mom made me come.” “mhm, sure.”

8. “are they fighting again?” “worse, they’re kissing”

9. “did i just hear a ‘thank you’?” “do not get used to hearing that.”

10. “i am not getting in that car with you, are you crazy?”

11. “do you ever stop complaining?” “you ever think that if you stopped being an idiot i wouldn’t need to complain?”

12. “why do you hate me?” “you think i hate you?”

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 9

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n yall ask for a daerin crumb but ill apologize in advance teehee, credits ''every day'' by David levithan

Day 6007

I wake up the next morning in Beyoncé’s body.

Not the real Beyoncé. But a body remarkably like hers. All the curves in all the right places.

I open my eyes to a blur. I reach for the glasses on the night-stand, but they’re not there. So I stumble into the bathroom and put in my contact lenses.

Then I look in the mirror.

I am not pretty. I am not beautiful.

I’m top-to-bottom gorgeous.

I am always happiest when I am just attractive enough. Meaning: other people won’t find me unattractive. Meaning: I make a positive impression. Meaning: my life is not defined by my attractiveness, because that brings its own perils as well as its own rewards.

Shim Ja-yoon’s life is defined by her attractiveness. Beauty can come naturally, but it’s hard to be stunning by accident. A lot of work has gone into this face, this body. I’m sure there’s a complete morning regimen that I’m supposed to undergo before heading into the day.

I don’t want to have any part of it, though. With girls like Yoon, I just want to shake them, and tell them that no matter how hard they fight it, these teenage looks aren’t going to last forever, and that there are much better foundations to build a life upon than how attractive you are. But there’s no way for me to get that message across. My only course of rebellion is to leave her eyebrows unplucked for the day.

I access where I am, and discover I’m only about fifteen minutes away from Hanni.

A good sign.

I log on to my email and find a message from her.

Yn,

I’m free and have the car today. I told my mom I have errands.

Want to be one of my errands?

H

I tell her yes. A million times yes.

Yoon’s parents are away for the weekend. Her older brother, is in charge. I worry he’s going to give me a hassle, but he’s got his own things to do, as he tells me repeatedly. I tell him I won’t stand in his way.

“You’re going out in that?” he asks.

Normally, when an older brother asks this, it means a skirt is too short, or too much cleavage is showing. But in this case, I think he’s saying I’m still dressed as the private Yoon, not the public one.

I don’t really care, but I have to respect the fact that Yoon would care—probably very much. So I go back and change, and even put on some makeup. I’m fascinated by the life Yoon must lead, being such a knockout. Like being very short or very tall, it must change your whole perspective on the world. If other people see you differently, you’ll end up seeing them differently, too.

Even her brother defers to her in a way I bet he wouldn’t if she were normal-looking. He doesn’t blink when I tell him I’m going out for the day with my friend Hanni.

If your beauty is unquestioned, so many other things can go unquestioned as well.

The minute I get into the car, Hanni bursts out laughing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says.

“What?” I say. Then I get it.

“What?” she mocks me. I’m happy she feels comfortable enough to do it, but I’m still being mocked.

“You have to understand—you’re the first person to ever know me in more than one body. I’m not used to this. I don’t know how you’re going to react.”

This makes her a little more serious.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re this super hot pretty girl. It makes it very hard for me to have a mental image of you. I keep having to change it.”

“Picture me however you want to picture me. Because odds are, that’ll be more true than any of the bodies you see me in.”

“I think my imagination needs a little more time to catch up to the situation, okay?”

“Okay. Now, where to?”

“Since we’ve already been to the ocean, I figured today we’d go to a forest.”

So off we go, into the woods.

It’s not like last time. The radio is on, but we’re not singing along. We’re sharing the same space, but our thoughts are spreading outside of it.

I want to hold her hand, but I sense it wouldn’t work. I know she’s not going to reach for my hand, not unless I need it. This is the problem with being so beautiful—it can render you untouchable. And this is the problem with being in a new body each day—the history is there, but it’s not visible. It has to be different from last time, because I am different.

We talk a little about Jiwon; Hanni called her house a second time yesterday, just to see what would happen. Jiwon’s father answered, and when Hanni introduced herself as a friend, he said that Jiwon had gone away to deal with some things, and left it at that. Both Hanni and I decide to take this as a good sign.

We talk some more, but not about anything that matters. I want to cut through the awkwardness, have Hanni treat me like her boyfriend or girlfriend again. But I can’t. I’m not.

We get to the park and navigate ourselves away from the other weekenders. Hanni finds us a secluded picnic area, and surprises me by taking a feast from the trunk.

I watch as she picks everything out of the picnic hamper. Cheeses. French bread. Hummus. Olives. Salads. Chips. Salsa.

“Are you a vegetarian?” I ask, based on the evidence in front of me.

She nods.

“Why?”

“Because I have this theory that when we die, every animal that we’ve eaten has a chance at eating us back. So if you’re a carnivore and you add up all the animals you’ve eaten—well, that’s a long time in purgatory, being chewed.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “No. I’m just sick of the question. I mean, I’m vegetarian because I think it’s wrong to eat other sentient creatures. And it sucks for the environment.”

“Fair enough.” I don’t tell her how many times I’ve accidentally eaten meat while I’ve been in a vegetarian’s body. It’s just not something I remember to check for. It’s usually the friends’ reactions that alert me. I once made a vegan really, really sick at a McDonald’s.

Over lunch, we make more small talk. It’s not until we’ve put away the picnic and are walking through the woods that the real words come out.

“I need to know what you want,” she says.

“I want us to be together.” I say it before I can think it over.

She keeps walking. I keep walking alongside her.

“But we can’t be together. You realize that, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t realize that.”

Now she stops. Puts her hand on my shoulder.

“You need to realize it. I can care about you. You can care about me. But we can’t be together.”

It’s so ridiculous, but I ask, “Why?”

“Why? Because one morning you could wake up on the other side of the country. Because I feel like I’m meeting a new person every time I see you. Because you can’t be there for me. Because I don’t think I can like you no matter what. Not like this.”

“Why can’t you like me like this?”

“It’s too much. You’re too perfect right now. I can’t imagine being with someone like … you.”

“But don’t look at her—look at me.”

“I can’t see beyond her, okay? And there’s also Minj. I have to think of Minji.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know, okay? How many waking hours were you in there? Fourteen? Fifteen? Did you really get to know everything about her while you were in there? Everything about me?”

“You like her because she’s a lost girl. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen before. But do you know what happens to people who love lost girls? They become lost themselves. Without fail.”

“You don’t know me—”

“But I know how this works! I know what she’s like. She doesn’t care about you nearly as much as you care about her. She doesn’t care about you nearly as much as I care about you.”

“Stop! Just stop.”

But I can’t. “What do you think would happen if she met me in this body? What if the three of us went out? How much attention do you think she’d pay you? Because she doesn’t care about who you are. I happen to think you are about a thousand times more attractive than Yoon is. But do you really think she’d be able to keep her hands to herself if she had a chance?”

“She’s not like that.”

“Are you sure? Are you really sure?”

“Fine,” Hanni says. “Let me call her.”

Despite my immediate protests, she dials her number and, when she answers, says she has a friend in town that she wants her to meet. Maybe we could all go for dinner? She says fine, but not until Hanni says it’ll be her treat.

Once she hangs up, we just hang there.

“Happy?” she asks.

“I have no idea,” I tell her honestly.

“Me either.”

“When are we meeting her?”

“Six.”

“Okay,” I say. “In the meantime, I want to tell you everything, and I want you to tell me everything in return.”

It’s so much easier when we’re talking about things that are real. We don’t have to remind ourselves what the point is, because we’re right there in it.

She asks me when I first knew.

“I was probably four or five. Obviously, I knew before that about changing bodies, having a different mom and dad each day. Or grandmother or babysitter or whoever. There was always someone to take care of me, and I assumed that was just what living was—a new life every morning. If I got something wrong—a name, a place, a rule—people would correct me. There was never that big a disturbance. I didn’t think of myself as a boy or a girl—I never have. I would just think of myself as a boy or a girl for a day. It was like a different set of clothes.

“The thing that ended up tripping me up was the concept of tomorrow. Because after a while, I started to notice—people kept talking about doing things tomorrow. Together. And if I argued, I would get strange looks. For everyone else, there always seemed to be a tomorrow together. But not for me. I’d say, ‘You won’t be there,’ and they’d say, ‘Of course I’ll be there.’ And then I’d wake up, and they wouldn’t be. And my new parents would have no idea why I was so upset.

“There were only two options—something was wrong with everyone else, or something was wrong with me. Because either they were tricking themselves into thinking there was a tomorrow together, or I was the only person who was leaving.”

Hanni asks, “Did you try to hold on?”

I tell her, “I’m sure I did. But I don’t remember it now. I remember crying and protesting—I told you about that. But the rest? I’m not sure. I mean, do you remember a lot about when you were five?”

She shakes her head. “Not really. I remember my mom bringing me and my sister to the shoe store to get new shoes before kindergarten started. I remember learning that a green light meant go and red meant stop. I remember coloring them in, and the teacher being a little confused about how to explain yellow. I think she told us to treat it the same as red.”

“I learned my letters quickly,” I tell her. “I remember the teachers being surprised that I knew them. I imagine they were just as surprised the next day, when I’d forgotten them.”

“A five-year-old probably wouldn’t notice taking a day off.”

“Probably. I don’t know.”

“I keep asking Minji about it, you know. The day you were her. And it’s amazing how clear her fake memories are. She doesn’t disagree when I say we went to the beach, but she doesn’t really remember it, either.”

“Soobin, the twin, was like that, too. He didn’t notice anything wrong. But when I asked him about meeting you for coffee, he didn’t remember it at all. He remembered he was at Starbucks—his mind accounted for the time. But it wasn’t what actually happened.”

“Maybe they remember what you want them to remember.”

“I’ve thought about that. I wish I knew for sure.”

We walk farther. Circle a tree with our fingers.

“What about love?” she asks. “Have you ever been in love?”

“I don’t know that you’d call it love,” I say. “I’ve had crushes, for sure. And there have been days where I’ve really regretted leaving. There were even one or two people I tried to find, but that didn’t work out. The closest was this girl Danielle.”

“Tell me about her.”

“It was about a year ago. I was working at a movie theater, and she was in town, visiting her cousins, and when she went to get some popcorn, we flirted a little, and it just became this … spark. It was this small, one-screen movie theater, and when the movie was running, my job was pretty slow. I think she missed the second half of the movie, because she came back out and started talking to me more. I ended up having to tell her what happened, so she could pretend she’d been in there most of the time. At the end, she asked for my email, and I made up an email address.”

“Like you did for me.”

“Exactly like I did for you. And she emailed me later that night, and left the next day to go back home to Maine, and that proved to be ideal, because then the rest of our relationship could be online. I’d been wearing a name tag, so I had to give her that first name, but I made up a last name, and then I made up an online profile using some of the photos from the real girl’s profile. I think her name was Haerin.”

“Oh—so you were a girl?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Does that matter?”

“No,” she tells me. “I guess not.” But I can tell it does. A little. Again, her mental picture needs adjustment.

“So we’d email almost every day. We’d even chat. And while I couldn’t tell her what was really happening—I emailed her from some very strange places—I still felt like I had something out there in the world that was consistently mine, and that was a pretty new feeling. The only problem was, she wanted more. More photos. Then she wanted to Skype. Then, after about a month of these intense conversations, she started talking about visiting again. Her aunt and uncle had already invited her back, and summer was coming.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yup—uh-oh. I couldn’t figure out a way around it. And the more I tried to dodge it, the more she noticed. All of our conversations became about us. Every now and then, a tangent would get in there, but she’d always drag it back. So I had to end it. Because there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow for us.”

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“Because I didn’t think she could take it. Because I didn’t trust her enough, I guess.”

“So you called it off.”

“I told her I’d met someone else. I borrowed photos from the body I was in at the time. I changed my fake profile’s relationship status. Danielle never wanted to talk to me again.”

“Poor girl.”

“I know. After that, I promised myself I wouldn’t get into any more virtual entanglements, as easy as they might seem to be. Because what’s the point of something virtual if it doesn’t end up being real? And I could never give anyone something real. I could only give them deception.”

“Like impersonating their girlfriends,” Hanni says.

“Yeah. But you have to understand—you were the exception to the rule. And I didn’t want it to be based on deception. Which is why you’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

“The funny thing is, you say it like it’s so unusual that you’ve only done it once. But I bet a whole lot of people go through their lives without ever telling the truth, not really. And they wake up in the same body and the same life every single morning.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

Hanni looks me in the eye. “If I’m not telling you something, it’s for a reason. Just because you trust me, it doesn’t mean I have to automatically trust you. Trust doesn’t work like that.”

“That’s fair.”

“I know it is. But enough of that. Tell me about—I don’t know—third grade.”

The conversation continues. She learns the reason I now have to access information about allergies before eating anything (after having been nearly killed by a strawberry when I was nine), and I learn the origin of her fear of bunny rabbits (a particularly malevolent creature named Swizzle that liked to escape its cage and sleep on people’s faces). She learns about the best mom I ever had (a water park is involved), and I learn about the highs and lows of living with the same mother for your entire life, about how no one can make you angrier, but how you can’t really love anyone more. She learns that I haven’t always been in Maryland, but I move great distances only when the body I’m in moves great distances. I learn that she’s never been on an airplane.

She still keeps a physical space between us—there will be no leaning on shoulders or holding hands right now. But if our bodies keep apart, our words do not. I don’t mind that.

We return to the car and pick at the remains of the picnic. Then we walk around and talk some more. I am astonished at the number of lives I can remember to tell Hanni about, and she is amazed that her single life bears as many stories as my multiple one. Because her normal existence is so foreign to me, so intriguing to me, it starts to feel a little more interesting to her as well.

I could go on like this until midnight. But at five-fifteen, Hanni looks at her phone and says, “We better get going. Minji will be waiting for us.”

Somehow, I’d managed to forget.

It should be a foregone conclusion. I am a seriously attractive girl. Minji is a typically jerk.

I am hoping that Hanni’s theory is right, and that Yoon will only remember what I want her to remember, or what her mind wants her to remember. Not that I’m going to take this far—all I need is confirmation of Minji’s willingness, not actual contact.

Hanni’s picked a clam house off the highway. True to form, I confirm that Yoon doesn’t have any shellfish allergies. In truth, Yoon has tricked herself into thinking she’s “allergic” to a number of things, as a way of narrowing down her diet. But shellfish never hit that particular watch list.

When she walks into the room, heads actually turn. Most of them are attached to men a good thirty years older than her. I’m sure she’s used to it, but it freaks me out.

Even though Hanni was concerned about Minji having to wait for us, she ends up coming ten minutes after we do. The look on her face when she first sees me is priceless—when Hanni said she had a friend in town, Yoon was not what she pictured. She gives Hanni her hello, but she’s gaping at me when he does.

We take our seats. At first I’m so focused on her reaction that I don’t notice Hanni’s. She’s receding into herself, suddenly quiet, suddenly timid. I can’t tell whether it’s Minji’s presence that’s making this happen, or whether it’s the combination of her presence and mine.

We’ve been so wrapped up in our own day that we haven’t really prepared for this. So when Minji starts asking the obvious questions—how do Hanni and I know each other, and how come she hasn’t heard about me before—I have to jump into the breach. For Hanni, fabrication is a ruminative act, whereas lying is a part of my necessary nature.

I tell her that my mother and Hanni’s mother were best friends in high school. I’m now living in Los Angeles (why not?), auditioning for TV shows (because I can). My mother and I are visiting the East Coast for a week, and she wanted to check in on her old friend. Hanni and I have seen each other off and on through the years, but this is the first time in a while.

Minji appears to be hanging on my every word, but she isn’t listening at all. I brush her leg “accidentally” under the table. She pretends she doesn’t notice. Hanni pretends, too.

I’m brazen, but careful with my brazenness. I touch Hanni’s hand a few times when I’m making a point, so it doesn’t seem so unusual when I do it to Minji. I mention a Hollywood star that I once kissed at a party, but make it clear that it was no big deal.

I want Minji to flirt back, but she appears incapable. Especially once there’s food in front of her. Then the order of attention goes: food, then Yoon, then Hanni. I dip my crab cakes in tartar sauce, and imagine Yoon yelling at me for doing so.

When the food is finished, she focuses back on me. Hanni comes alive a little and tries to mimic my movements, first by holding her hand. She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t seem all that into it; she acts like she’s embarrassing Hanni. I figure this is a good sign.

Finally, Hanni says she has to go to the ladies’ room. This is my chance to get her to do something irredeemable, get her to see who she truly is.

I start with the leg move. This time, with Hanni gone, she doesn’t move her leg away.

“Hello there,” I say.

“Hello,” she says back. And smiles.

“What are you doing after this?” I ask.

“After dinner?”

“Yeah, after dinner.”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should do something,” I suggest.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Maybe just the two of us.”

Click. She finally gets it.

I move in. Touch her hand. Say, “I think that would be fun.”

I need her to lean in to me. I need her to give in to what she wants. I need her to take it one step further. All it takes is a yes.

She looks around, to see if Hanni is near, and to see if the other guys in the room are seeing this happen.

“Whoa,” she says.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I really like you.”

She sits back. Shakes her head. “Um … no.”

I’ve been too forward. She needs it to be her idea.

“Why not?” I ask.

She looks at me like I’m a complete idiot.

“Why not?” she says. “How about Hanni? Jeez.”

I’m trying to think of a comeback for that, but there isn’t one. And it doesn’t even matter, because at this point, Hanni returns to the table.

“I don’t want this,” she says. “Stop.”

Minji, fool that she is, thinks she’s talking to her.

“I’m not doing anything!” she protests, her leg firmly back on his side of the booth. “Your friend here is a little out of control.”

“I don’t want this,” she repeats.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be!” Minji yells. “God, I don’t know how they do things in California, but here, you don’t act like that.” she stands up. I steal a glance at her slight flush ears and see that despite her denials, my flirtation did have at least one effect. But I can’t really point it out to Hanni.

“I’m gonna go,” she says. Then, as if to prove something, she kisses Hanni right in front of me. “Thanks, baby,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She doesn’t bother saying goodbye to me.

Hanni and I sit back down.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve known.”

I’m waiting for the I told you so … and then it comes.

“I told you that you don’t understand. You can’t understand us,” she says.

The check comes. I try to pay, but she waves me off.

“It’s not your money,” she says. And that hurts just as much as anything else.

I know she wants the night to end. I know she wants to drop me off at home, just so she can call Minji and apologize, and make everything right with her again.

[sexynetra]

“I… wow, you look incredible.”  with boxer au

Hi I just found this fully written in my drafts from the end of October and I never posted it???? Anyways idk if you remember sending this ask but :) here you go :)

~~~~~

read on Ao3

“You know, you really aren’t allowed to request specific nurses. This is an emergency room,” Marcia said as she stepped inside the hospital room, eyes skimming the chart in her hands. “You can if you’re as cute as I am. Or maybe it was my annoying persistence that finally wore them down. Not sure which.” Marcia finally looked up at the now-familiar voice, a soft smile on her lips. Over the past month, Anetra had come to the emergency room for a variety of cuts and bruises, and each time, she had managed to finagle her way into having Marcia take care of her. It didn’t hurt that Anetra had endeared herself to the rest of the staff there over her many visits. She opened her mouth to make some snarky reply before her brain caught up to the sight before her. Most of the time when Anetra came in, she was in workout gear, clearly coming straight from whatever fight she had been at. But this time, she looked ready for a night on the town. Her hair, albeit messy, had been curled and pinned into an updo, her skimpy dress left little to the imagination, and her already pretty face was even more striking with the addition of carefully applied makeup. Marcia had seen a million drunk incidents, a million club and partygoers dressed up for a fun night who ended up in her care. But none of them held a candle to the still-smirking girl sitting in front of her. “I… wow, you look incredible. Um. I mean. What brought you here anyways? You don’t seem to be in distress, and I can't see any visible injuries,” Marcia swallowed, trying to get herself back on track. This was a professional setting, after all. She needed to do her job, not drool over a pretty girl. “I was out dancing and there was a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I had to resort to using my right hook to get my message across,” Anetra said, mirth in her tone. “Okay. Did you land it wrong? What’s bothering you?” Marcia asked as she stepped closer, motioning for Anetra to hold out her hand. Anetra extended her right hand delicately and Marcia carefully took it in her own, moving the hand gently as she watched for Anetra’s reactions. Anetra winced slightly as Marcia tilted her hand up. “I didn’t have a great angle, my wrist is feeling kind of sore.” “The wrist is a delicate joint, I can imagine it isn’t comfortable. It doesn’t seem like it's broken, though. And you really don’t need the ER for anything less than a break,” Marcia glanced up, catching Anetra’s knowing smirk. “You already knew that though, didn’t you? You probably know perfectly well what a broken wrist feels like.” “It may not be broken, but it still hurts. Think you could kiss it better?” Anetra fluttered her eyelashes. “Did you seriously come to the Emergency Room without a real injury? I think this might be the most expensive way anyone has ever tried to flirt with me.” “Is it working?” Marcia’s tongue darted over her lips as she stared at the woman sitting in front of her, the woman she had met just one month ago but who had become a constant in her life already, just through her ER visits. “I’ll let you know if it's working or not when I get off my shift in an hour. Maybe over some late-night diner food,” Marcia smiled, squeezing her hand before letting go and stepping back. “I have some other patients to check on, but if you want to wait in the lobby, I can come find you after.” Anetra hummed, pushing herself to her feet and smoothing her hands down her dress. “We’ll make quite the duo.” She winked and blew her a kiss before walking out of the room. Marcia leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. The next hour was going to feel like an eternity.

[imaginmatrix]

Hiiiiii just for fun I thought I’d show some irl examples of how imagine the characters in aoyaom— as always this is about ✨vibes✨ only, I don’t really think of these as “face claims” or EXACTLY how I think they’d look, but certain features capture a tangential feeling of you get me?

Anyway, here are the candidates for Academia’s Next Top Models— imagine them as slightly more realistically pretty, whatever that means? Like these same people pictured, but without a team of skin and hair and makeup artists and a lot of money for whatever treatments or physical alterations they want. People who would make you double take if you passed them on the street, but don’t look like they stepped out of an Instagram filter. Anyway.

Spoilers for aoyaom ahead!

Annabeth Chase

Pictured: Tetiana Kizko, Dorit Revelis (but older lol— maybe Annabeth in college?), Morgan Crabtree, and Julie Hocke

Honestly for her, I just focused on hair hair hair. But also I need her to have features that are like Percy said in the epilogue: soft or sharp depending on lighting and mood and stuff. But towards the beginning of the story, she’d probably look a bit more haggard and worn down than this— I imagine circles under the eyes, her poor hair heat styled smooth, and just a constant scowl on her face that makes some people (like Becky) just not notice how pretty she is at first (not Percy tho. He noticed right away.)

Luke Castellan

Pictured: Leif Stacey, Rudi Dollmayer, and Danny Smith

At first I was like “what does near 40/already 40 year old Luke even look like?!?!” because when I wrote most of aoyaom, the oldest I saw him in my head was like. 30. Similar vibes to how I pictured him in the og series as a kid (except he was barely over TWENTY in those, GOD) but then I found a photo of Leif Stacey specifically and went “oh that’s him.” A guy who’s clearly older, but young woman would still find him REALLY attractive. Charming, put together, chiseled, does good work in education, but also a total secret scumbag in one particular area— 😬 ……. I would probably be in the same position as Annabeth if I were a freshman in college, because I’m very dumb!

Percy Jackson

Pictured:

Okay listen. I. Hate. Looking for real life men who remind me of fully-adult Perseus Jackson. I hate it. None of them ever have the right vibe for me!

Evans Nikopoulos is maybe the closest? Maybe????

And Arthur Gosse is in there I think??? But I’m not even sure he’s a good fit either— idk he looks like a different man in every photo I see of him and I can’t figure out if there’s just 2 different models with this name or what!!! who even are these people? Heck if I know! Whenever I find a dark haired man on Pinterest, for all I can tell his name is Damien Alexander Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and he only exists in wattpad’s very own “The Alpha’s Maître d’: Part Seven of the Lust Devourer Mafia Werewolf Fated Mates Cycle Part 2 Chapter 12” or whatever WATTPAD LOVES THEIR DARK HAIRED BOYS!!!!! PINTEREST’S DARK HAIRED MAN SELECTION IS ONLY POPULATED WITH WATTPAD FACE CLAIMS!!!!!!! Finding the names of these men is a total nightmare!!!!!!!

Mike Pishek is there too. I seriously labored in the Pinterest mines, and then there’s only like one specific photo of each of these men that feels like “Percy” ish to me

I think one of them is Daniel Illescas. I don’t know anymore.

Percy is just HARD because you need a guy who is intense, but can clearly be silly and have a good sense of humor and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, who can be flirty then smoldering, but then is incredibly good natured but a bit of a rebel— I hate this man there’s a reason he doesn’t exist. I never want to look at skinny pretty people on Pinterest ever again.

I was planning on doing more, but then…

Piper. Oh my GOD Piper. If I thought trying to find “Percy vibes” was hard… that’s just a whole dark haired white man. There’s trillions of those. I was trying to find a Native American woman who was specifically of Cherokee descent for Piper, and I spent almost 7 hours scouring the internet for literally any actress or model who could fit, and I’m pretty sure I’ve just. Completely lost my mind. And it certainly doesn’t help that so many results are just… disgusting displays of stereotypes!!! Maybe I wasn’t using the right search terms in google, but GOD it was just. A nightmare. It’s dire out there. I knew it would be but. I gave myself such a migraine trying to do her justice. I found ONE woman who was a model I think? In the 90s? There are so many beautiful Native American actors and models and people, yet it’s still like this! And maybe it would be fine to just use any indigenous women, as long as they’re from a tribe, but I don’t want to treat them interchangeably I guess— I don’t knooooow anyway that whole search gave me a temporary eye Twitch and destroyed any remaining dregs of my hope in society, and killed my will to keep finding examples for other characters, but I will absolutely try again!!! She deserves it!!!!!!

Anyway let me know who you’d like to see. Hopefully I will not have another breakdown. It’s probably fine.

[devilherself666]

CHAPTER 10! (TODOBAKUDEKU! X READER! MAFIA AU!)

~present~

My alarm goes off and I groan. This has been the worst four months ever. There is no way that is all he was hiding, I don’t believe it. I looked around and I still wasn’t home and it made me homesick. That and the two boys that wanted to make a move on me are dating Bakugo and each other. It hurts my head to just think about it.

I walk into the bathroom, brush my teeth and my hair. I walk down stairs in a long T-shirt I found. I walked into the nurse's office and sighed as I looked at him. “Pull through please, you are all I have.” I sighed as I held his hand. As I walked out I heard talking like there was a meeting that I wasn’t invited to. I stayed behind the wall, just close enough I could hear them. “I don’t trust that she doesn’t know.” A man in black said, his hair was long and black. He had a scar on his face under his eye as he looked tired of their bullshit, but I see why I wasn’t invited. It is about me. I sighed as I listened more. “I don’t know sir, she seemed just as dumbfounded as we were.” Todo spoke. Is this their boss or something? “I know she doesn’t know, because if she did she would have lost her shit already.” Deku spoke and I nodded to myself in agreement. The man in black huffed.

“You three can trust her all you please, but something doesn’t feel right to me.” He huffed and he glared at the boys. “Don’t let your feelings trust her, because you like her. That is how it went last time and you almost got caught.” He huffed and my mouth widened and then my brain spun. They have tried to date a girl in their twisted ways? So they are players that have no idea how to play the game? I smirk. Good thing I do.

I walked back upstairs and changed into my black dress that was strapless and had a slit in the middle in the front and back as I put on so black ankle wrapping heels that were silver with real diamonds. I put on some makeup and fix my hair and check the calendar. “I’ll get them to talk.” I huffed to myself as I walked down stairs and walked into the kitchen to grab water and my purse. “Wow, where are you going?” Deku growled. My whole body shivered. Despite them trying to play me, they were hot. I am honestly glad I didn’t sleep with him that night, I ran out. I am a chicken, but worth it. “None of your business.” I huffed as I grabbed my back and walked past him, I could see he was hurt and that is what I wanted. He grabbed my waist and pulled me to him and my heart almost stopped. “Oh, no, no. Where are you going to dress like that?” He asked but in my ear. My spine was about to break if I stood any taller. I gulped but breathed and got back my voice.

“On a date. Just because you are helping me with my brother's case, doesn’t mean you own my life.” I huffed and wiggled out of his hands and he looked at me. “Wait, you don’t like me?” He asked and I looked back at him. “And if I don’t you're not gonna trust me anymore?” I asked and he blinked. “The meeting.” he sighed out and I glared at him. “That and the fact both you and Shoto tried to get with me and you are dating each other along with Bakugo. I am not one who doesn't stand for your little game. I am not a one night stand either.” I huffed as I walked out the house. I walked to my car as I pulled out my keys that were in my purse and unlocked the door and got it. I started the car and drove a ball that was being hosted by hawks and dabi. I got my face mask, the covers around my eyes and top of my nose, it had a black base with silver lining on it. I put on a recorder that looked like a bracelet. I sighed as I pulled into the ball and took off my plates and put them in the car, locking it. I saw all these people and smiled as I walked in, I looked around. I didn’t see him just yet.

I felt hands on my waist, they weren't soft but they weren't nasty. I turned and saw Dabi and smiled at me. The mask hides who I am. “Wow, you are the most beautiful one here for sure.” He smirked and I looked at him. “Thank you.” I said shyly. “Shy too? What in the world are you doing in this line of work then doll?” He asked and I looked at him. “On a mission.” I sighed out and he looked at me and dragged me to the dance floor. “Dance and tell me about this mission, maybe I can help you.” He smiled out and I looked at him and danced with him, honestly I was having so much fun, but I had to find out. “I have to find out what B/N is hiding or I will die in twenty hours, I have already sent four. Y/n hired more.” I choked out like I was scared and he looked at me. Did I blow it? “Die?” he asked and I nodded. “I don’t doubt she would kill you.” He sighed and he continued to dance with me.

He dipped me. He put his mouth on my ear and whispered. “The secret is, he isn’t her real brother she remembers, he kidnapped her and killed her real brother when she was a baby, we found out by old newspapers.” he said smoothly and pulled out a roll of paper out of his pocket. “Why do you have this on you?” I asked. “I was going to expose him tonight, but you need more dolls. Now go.” He smiled and my heart melted, he only knew me for a few minutes and he was nice. I looked at him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” I whispered and ran out. He smiled at me. I didn’t believe what he said though, it's impossible I don’t know my own brother right? I unlocked my car, I kept my mask on and locked it back and read the newspaper. ‘B/n murdered in his own home, while Y/n was kidnapped nowhere to be seen.’ My heart dropped. How did he know who my family was? He killed my parents, I watched him do it. He killed my sister too. How does this man know so much about me? Were those people even my parents? Was that my sister or was it his family? I shivered at the thought. I got out and put my plates back on my car. I got back in and started it and drove off.

I drove to the store and walked through the aisles. “Bingo!” I said as I picked up hair dye removal. Maybe he dyed his hair to match his? Maybe I need to find pictures of him when we were younger? Something is right.. How did I not notice?! I grabbed my hair as I am slowly starting to lose my mind. I have to find out the truth..who is the man on that hospital bed?

<<< >>>

Master-list

[sturnsbaebackup]

PROMPT LIST — ☆

disclaimer: you are MORE than welcome to suggest your own ideas as well! also, please do not combine more than 3 prompts! and don’t forget to please clarify the prompts when you request!! <3

-

FLUFF

1. "you're the only one who can calm him down"

2. “your fans don't like me"

3. “i’m here baby, don't worry"

4. "i love you more than anyone"

5. “come cuddle me"

6. “i want attention"

7. “quit stealing all the pillows!”

8. “you’re my new pillow”

9. “why are your feet so cold?”

10. “there’s room for two!”

11. “stop being grumpy”

12. "aww you're blushing!"

13. “you make me feel safe”

14. “can i get your number?"

15. “i’m scared to meet your family"

16. “i love your family, they make me feel so welcome"

17. “i like showing you off”

18. “i miss you"

19. “i need you right now"

20. "that's the prettiest fan i've ever seen"

21. “i’m so stressed out”

22. "lets have a movie night"

23. “can i do your makeup?"

24. "dance with me"

25. “it's a tiktok trend i'm sorry!"

26. “do this tiktok with me"

27. “let's go on a drive"

28. “you're drunk, i'll help you"

29. “i like that nickname"

30. "i like that outfit on you

31. “my clothes look better on you anyways"

32. “bake with me”

33. "let's go shopping"

34. “i’m sick"

35. “you're ticklish?!"

36. “let me teach you how to ice skate"

37. “take me to get my wisdom teeth out"

38. “have you seen my hoodie?"

39. “stop video taping me this isn't funny!"

40. “don't you dare post that"

41. “i look ugly”

42. “he won't stop talking about you”

—

ANGST / SAD

1. “was this all just a joke to you?”

2. "we're just hooking up, it's nothing serious"

3. "why don't you ever post me?"

4. "i’ll change for you, i promise"

5. "i got in a fight because of you"

6. "i thought you cheated, i'm sorry"

7. "no need for attitude!"

8. "yeah, i'm jealous"

9. "forgive me?"

10. "he/she’s my ex, we broke up for a reason"

11. “are you really that oblivious?”

12. “i want this to be real, not fake anymore”

13. “yeah i like you, dipshit”

14. “i want you, not them.”

15. “can’t you make some time for me?”

16. “i don’t even know who you are anymore!”

17. “forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

18. “don’t ever do that again!”

19. “do you even love me anymore?”

20. “can you shut up and listen to someone other than yourself for once in your life?”

21. “i told you not to fall in love with me.”

22. “the worst thing is, that even after all of that, i’m still in love with you.”

23. “why are you even here?”

24. “are you even listening to me?!”

25. “if you love me, you’ll let me go”

26. “i cant keep doing this to myself!”

27. “you don’t know me, so don’t act like you do.”

—

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

1. “you’re my tutor? absolutely not.”

2. “you haven’t called me an asshole yet today, everything okay?”

3. “i guess were partners for this…” “oh please someone kill me now.”

4. “just cause our parents are friends doesn’t mean we are”

5. “stop following me around like a lost puppy!” … “maybe you being around isn’t so bad.”

6. “congratulations, i guess.” “oh, are you done being an asshole now?”

7. “don’t feel special that i’m here, my mom made me come.” “mhm, sure.”

8. “are they fighting again?” “worse, they’re kissing”

9. “did i just hear a ‘thank you’?” “do not get used to hearing that.”

10. “i am not getting in that car with you, are you crazy?”

11. “do you ever stop complaining?” “you ever think that if you stopped being an idiot i wouldn’t need to complain?”

12. “why do you hate me?” “you think i hate you?”

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Thankless Work.

???: Ghh...ngh...ah...

You guys hear that?

She’s close!

*The pursuing group follow the blood trail and the sound of grunts down the Freedom Academy hallway.

There!

agh...Hngh...

*Emila, having expent nearly all her energy on her escape, now crawls along the floor, her blood trail behind her. She’s battered, bruised and full of wounds and burns.

...Huh...?

Don’t...move...

...*sigh*

*Knowing she’s defeated, Emilia slumps down on her back. Toko, Komaru and Kuripa all point their weapons at her.

...

*Maya brushes past and takes a knee in front of Feng, looking her directly in the face.

Dear God Emilia...you’re looking a little worse for wear these days. 

Have you looked in a mirror lately Canzanilla? Or at any point in your life for that matter?

Don’t worry. Nothing a little makeup and cosmetics can’t fix.

Oh...I didn’t miss this grating sarcasm and sense of humor of yours...

Ya’ll started it, ciccio.

*sigh*

That said...I’m impressed...I wouldn’t say what I feel is “pride” per se, but...I suppose, as Oliver’s mother...It’s nice seeing my son succeed...and having real friends...I might not like any of you...but he does...and I think that’s what matters...

...Wow...way to be self-aware for once...

Still, I have to ask...*COUGH!* You and your little “Freedom Foundation” gang...You may have the help of the Future Foundation for now, but they won’t be around forever...

With me gone...there will be no organization to protect the United States from the likes of Organization Zetsubou...the only one’s who can now...are you.

...!

So tell me...are you ready? Ready to be the protectors of this country? Of this side of the world?

...

...Maya...Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to mess with your head.

No, no, i-it’s ok. She’s got a good point.

*She turns back to Emilia.

You wanna know the truth? My answer to that question?

No...I don’t think we are...

...

We’ve...I’VE spent all my time focusing on you. Honestly...it wasn’t until recently that I thought about...what might happen AFTER we defeated you...

What kind of responsibilities would fall to us...or what kind of trouble we’d be in for exposing ourselves to the public...

I mean...it’s the Maya guarantee, right? Talking about shit that I have no experience in, and acting like I know everything about it, and also running away from my responsibilities and hiding from what I should be doing because it doesn’t interest me. Oh a-and also plan things through.

You...are a mess...

Hehehe! I sure am! And you know what? I wouldn’t have me any other way!

Still though...You’ve got a point...I don’t think I’m ready to be this country’s protector.

Hmhmhm...

However...I take solace in one fact...

No matter what decisions we make, or what path we decide to take our lives, one things for sure.

We will always be a LOT BETTER than YOU...!

...

That’s right! You tell her!

She’s right about one thing. We won’t be around forever, but that doesn’t mean anything.

Yeah. We’re always gonna have your back, no matter how far away we are.

You can hold us to that.

Yeah...so there...That’s my answer...Do with it what you will...

I see...your resolve is...admirable...

But I warn you...it’s a THANKLESS burden...and even if you do everything within your power to do what’s right...

The people will hate you for it in the end...Even when it’s for their own...fucking...good...

...

You Future Foundation types know that all too well, don’t you? Remember how the public reacted after Operation Toxic Love? Shirogane told me the details.

...

...

...Cazzate...

Hm?

It’s not up to you, Emilia to decide what’s good for people. I think people are more than capable of deciding what’s good for them.

...Ah...hah...hahaha...

Something funny?

...There it is...The Freedom Foundation’s fatal flaw...Their faith in people...

You get along with all types, don’t you? You’re the type of person who makes friends with people you meet on the street only moments prior.

Yeah? So what? It’s called being part of a community. Maybe you should give it a try?

She will when she’s in prison.

I’m just saying...I used to have faith in people too...That faith got a good person killed once...

...

...Maybe you four could back me up...How many times now has your faith been misplaced? You’ve lost confidence in yourself...your Japanese public has lost faith in you...and you’ve been betrayed and abandoned by those you hold dear...?

You’ll know what I’m talking about more than Canzanilla.

...I’m not here to play along with your games, Feng...

*Makoto approaches her and grabs her by her collar.

I have only one question for you...

Where...is...Hiro?

Your personal property you mean? Ah...of course...

I’m sorry...but I’m going to have to disappoint you...he’s already long gone...

...What?

What did you say?

Just earlier today, I handed him over to Organization Zetsubou. Within a few hours...they’d taken him on a plane and flown him back to your country...

It’s over...He’s Shirogane’s plaything now...

!!!??

No...! We were too late...!?

...!

DAMMIT! I had a feeling, but...!

...

I am sorry...but it’s your own fault for underestimating my power.

If not for the Zetsubou factor, I could’ve had him shipped back to your country in about an hour. Unfortunately, Tsuchiya and his insisted upon it.

I have no sympathy for you...This is the price that you pay...

What was that?

If you didn’t want to risk any of your friends being captured or killed, then you should’ve left me alone...Ngh!

But no...you had to get involved...you HAD to interfere...You HAD to force my hand...!

Makoto and the others only got involved because they wanted to save us!

From a situation you put yourself into...Again, don’t underestimate my intelligence network...I know you infiltrated that auction...

*heavy furious breathing*

It’s your own fault that he’s gone, you know? I would have more than happily left them alone.

RRGH! YAAAAAAAAGHH!!

*SHUNK!!* *SKLIT!* *SPLATTER!*

!!!!???

!!!!???

!!!!???

!!!!???

... ... ...

...*exhale*...

*With one slash of his blade...Kuripa sends Emilia’s head rolling down the hallway...

//Emilia Feng...has died...//

[chordsykat]

OC ask meme! For Caj, 3 16 20 for Nita 34 3 40 for Cherry 29 23 20 (thats a lot, sorry XD)

Oooo! Let's do this! I answered 40 for Nita, here. As for the others...

3: How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

Nita - She's patient to a fault -- to her own detriment. Really really. She'll let you annoy her long after it's pushed her to her breaking point. You'll see some of this at play in Dethkomic very soon. Nita's got a problem with boundaries, but slowly and surely, she works it out. Unfortunately until she does... she's likely to just let it keep going even after other people are beginning to find it obnoxious.

Caj - Also has a lot of patience, but she'll let you know when you're getting on her nerves. The only thing that really truly bothers her (except Skwisgaar) is inaction when action is clearly warranted. Caj is the wind element of the bunch. If she's not moving, she dies. Or, moreover, she takes matters into her own hands.

16 (Caj): If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be? Does this match their favourite food?

Caj is on record as saying chocolate is the only addiction she hasn't been to rehab for. On tour, she is well-known for hitting up restaurants and asking for the dessert list up front -- proceeding to order the most decandent chocolate *whatever* on the menu. There are some exceptions (she doesn't consider American chocolate to be real food) but her sweet tooth is as legendary as her music.

20: Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

Caj - Probably knows more about the characters and worlds that inhabit her kids' favorite shows and books than they do. Following the timeline of when my stories *actually* happened, Caj would probably be a brony. If they'd happened today, she'd unironically enjoy Bluey and Blippi. I'm not sure how out she'd be about these things, but I'm sure she'd correct other parents when they confused Pinkie Pie for Rainbow Dash.

Cherry - She's pretty hedonistic and sees no shame in enjoying all that life has to offer and doing it out loud. Her "guilty pleasures" are many for this reason. Cherry's got a not-so-secret love for sappy romcoms, loves to overdo it on makeup snd wildly out-of-vogue hairstyles any chance she gets, and has a thing for pink flamingo lawn ornaments and similarly themed items.

34 (Nita): What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

That's a tough one. What they'd blackmail her with isn't as hard a question -- probably a loved one. But God help those bad guys if the one they took hostage was her dad. They'd give him back.

How successful they'd be is what has me stuck. Nita's quick to please, and if it was someone she loved dearly, there's no question she'd do anything in order to save them. However, one of Nita's innate abilities is this persuasive nature she seems to have over others that come in contact with her. She's a spirit of harmony and getting along (and yeah, here again, I'm kinda hinting at superpowers). Maybe all it'd take for the antagonist to drop the ball is hanging around her for a few minutes? I mean... can you blame them? Who'd want to hurt this chick? LOL

29 (Cherry): If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be? (When the player stays still for too long, the animation that plays.)

I actually almost did this when I found a plugin that would allow me to put idle animations on characters in Harmonic Odyssey (but, feature creep, yanno...) -- would absolutely have her roll a joint and smoke it until the player picked their controller back up again.

23 (Cherry): What is the most annoying sound to your oc? What’s the most pleasant? Is there any reason?

I LOVE it when I have to re-read my own character sheets to figure stuff like this out. Annoying is a very good question because she "analyzes" sound in a way that would confuse and confound most people who don't specifically have her sort of sensitivities. She is always looking for patterns and notes in things, even when there aren't any to be found. If none exist, she will likely shrug it off until there's too much of nothing to be found. I imagine she's cool with a consistent white noise, but only to a point. Having an alarm or something that should have a regular "beat" go off without keeping a consistent time pattern might be her kryptonite.

Pleasant sounds? Let's talk about the sound of water pipes... for several reasons that should be obvious by now. :)

Thank you for another round of wonderful questions! I sincerely doubt I'll ever get tired of doing Q&As off this list. XD

Original prompt is right here!

[odinspattern]

Not to be the guy who talks about the podcasts he listens to, but one of them made me think today. And I am once again using Tumblr to sort though my thoughts.

So I was listening to I Weigh, which is a podcast about mental health, hosted by Jameela Jamil. Interviewing Seerut K Chawla, about many topics really, but most prominently about how we talk about mental health. How it might not be too helpful despite trying to be and pop psychology.

One thing they discussed is how some terms have been watered down to the point where it is hard to even talk about them. How some people have difficulty speaking about their trauma because it is so big, while another who uses the same term talks about not getting pocket money from their parents. Something that seems so small in comparison to growing up in an active war zone.

They also talked about how having bad experiences is not the same as being through trauma. And while that is a valid thing and discussion, I believe a part of the problem about it is how fucking hard it is to get across experiences and how you are really living your life.

I know that I do. It is hard to articulate what my life with the various issues is really like. From the utter embarrasment that is not being able to keep to a shower schedule, because part of it is how to take care of my hair, and even shampoo made for dandruff is hard on my scalp, and then it becomes a issue of scheduling time to do it, I can’t just go shower, it is a THING. It is a commitment while others dob’t even have to think about it.

Sure, I can tell y’all how I cannot go camping in the woods, a thing I actively crave, because having sounds around me when I sleep is so frightening. It is hard to put into words how bothered I am every day by the things that has gone on in my life, how it dogs me. I can say it, but will you even understand? Every mistake, mean comments, the feeling of the hands of five girls pressing me down as they applied makeup on my face last year of 7th grade, the look in my dad’s eyes as he grabbed me from behind and I struck back so hard that he collapsed.

And then there are things like. Sound alarming but it doesn’t feel that way? I sometimes hear a flute in the distance, faint. I know it isn’t real. There is no way that they are in the store at 19.30, and in the forest. I honestly do not believe that I am important enough that a random fluteplayer has been stalking me since I was nine to… what? Mess with me? No, it is an auditory illusion, but saying that sounds scary to people.

All of this I have to articulate to a proffesional, to the point where they understand me, which is a feat of it’s own. How are you going to get sufficent and accurate help? How many of us have not bungled it because while yes you are almost sold in, and then a comment ruins it? Or in the positive case, said a few key phrases that got you the help you needed? You have to preform your need if help to satisfaction and it is exhausting, for BOTH parties. How are you, the person on the recieving end of this going to tell if someones issue is a minor thing about pocket change, or a story about financial abuse with devestating effects? How will you tell if this person wants to do the work that is trying to get mentally healthier, or just have someone that listens to them and coddle their belief that nothing was ever their fault?

Then you add other issues, like location. Do y’all know how few people even have acess to health proffesionals? It is hard to get help here in the sticks. And even in Oslo the public health services are overloaded, been so since before Covid.

So then a lot of us, either in between getting help and realizing we need help try to live our lives because you gotta pay bills and taxes. Maybe the way I cobbled my life together sounds like a nightmare, but like. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?

All of this to say that I partly agree. The way certain terms are washed out is a problem. From accusing people of gaslighting and calling every bad person a narcisist. Hell, I have talked about how dangerous I think it is to spew the rethoric that certain subset of people, including narcisist, cannot get better, because it frees them from being held accountable for their actions. And it makes it hard to communicate when every bad experience is, say, a trauma, instead of saying it was a rough period. However I think what we really need is terminology to communicate accurately and easily how our lives really are. The servere lack is making us turn to these phrases, and as grating as it is, until we have better ways, it is going to stay.

[ember373]

11/2/22 11:03 am

Today is the day.

Today is the day I break my own heart.

I bought these tickets hoping to go with you. Foolish, I know. I’m always a dreamer. I always hope. Even tho I expect the worst, I hope for the best. The cards said you would come. But someone recently told me that the cards are just a physical manifestation of my inner thoughts. So if they come from me…they must be wrong.

I have learned to live with this ache inside my chest. I keep waiting for it to go away, but it doesn’t. For whatever reason. Maybe the fates have decided to be kind and make you the last one my heart falls for so I won’t have to go through all this again. I’ll just live with that dull ache and dream of what could have been.

I don’t think I’m going to make space for anyone else in my life anymore. Which means, I’m no longer making space for you. I am slowly facing the reality that you never had any intentions of filling that space. And that’s not to say you had ill intentions towards me. I think I just take things more seriously than others so while you were playing around, I was serious and took you for serious too. It’s my fault really. I do this a lot. I forget that I’m just a toy to mess around with for a while until the real thing comes along. I sure am fun to mess around with.

But I’m tired of being messed around with. I’m going to get my shit together and I’m going to figure out how to leave this toxic place, and I’m going to live the rest of my days doing little old lady things and wait until the good Lord takes me and decides where he wants to put me. I hope it’s not too far off. I’m tired. I’ve been tired. For a long, long time. and since the universe has decided that I don’t get a soul to find solace in, I don’t get a heart to rest in, then I just want to get this over with and, if possible, cease to exist? I must have been a horrible person in my past lives to have to go through all the shit my heart has been through. Karma can kiss my ass. Seriously.

I think…I won’t reach out much anymore. Yes, I know you like it. Yes, I know it makes you feel cared about. But you ignoring me is killing me. It’s eroding my self worth. I did it because I love you. Because I wanted to make you feel loved. And cared about. I wanted you to know that there is one person that loves you no matter what, no matter how horrible you think you are, for you. I had hoped my love might erode some of those walls and you’d let me in. But I realize now that’s not ever going to happen and everything I do, everything I’ve done, is futile. You never had any intention of letting me in. You are a never changing mountain. And I keep beating my head against all different sides of you hoping I can move you, but it’s not going to happen. All I’m doing is hurting myself. You once said you didn’t really care one way or the other if I get a hold of you ever day or not, so I’ll just stop. You’re indifference hurts and I’m tired of stabbing my own eye. I’ll just quietly love you from afar. Let you live your own life. Let you be. Like you want. So you can do everything you always like to do instead of interact with me and be happy.

So, I’ve decided this is my final hurrah. I took a slow shower. Shaved everything. Lotioned up to keep my skin soft and smooth. I’ll do my hair. I’ll put on light makeup (my damn eyes won’t let me do anything else). And I’ll go to the concert. Hoping with all that I am that by some miracle you’ll be there. I’ll stand in line. My anxiety will ramp up. Then I’ll go inside the venue, buy my things, and go sit in my chair. And then, it will dawn on me that you won’t be there. You never intended to be there. You never wanted to be there. I’ll have that empty seat next to me the whole night as a reminder that you will never choose me.

You never chose me. I fed your ego and so you kept me around so you could play the young master. But what will you do when I go silent? I already know. Nothing. You will do nothing. Because you no longer want me. Even a little. Just like the last time I went silent. You quit reaching out. You just let me go. So I guess it’s time I let you let me go and stop bothering you.

I’ll keenly feel your absence. My heart will break. I’ll hold back my tears because damn if I want to cry in public. I’ll enjoy the concert. I’ll celebrate what we had, as brief as it was. I’ll savor the memories of a time when I thought you cared and wanted me. When you adored me. When you considered me yours. I’ll cry during certain songs and hope nobody notices. Then I’ll go to my car and go back to the place I don’t like to call home.

And you? You’ll be playing League. Or watching YouTube. Or talking to people in the discord chats I left. Or hanging out with the real people you call your friends that get to see your face and hear your voice and know your last name. You’ll be doing anything and everything but thinking of me. While I think of you the whole…damn….time. I will remind myself of this and it will break my heart more. And I’ll just leave those pieced where they lay. I’m tired of picking them up. I’m tired of trying to put them back together and hoping that someone out there can ignore all the scars and imperfections and actually want to make a home in there. Why choose something old and ugly and broken when you can get a near new or brand new model?

I have realized something in all this. In all the things I think about that have happened to me. I will never be enough for anyone. I will never be accepted. Truly wanted. I will never find my home. You know my favorite saying…not everybody gets a happy ending. So I guess I’ll try to figure out an ok ending I can live with until the fateful day I’ll get to close my eyes and not have to live all this shit anymore. I’ll step on those broken shards of my heart until my feet bleed and the pain every time I walk will remind me that I’m just not meant to be loved. I’m too scarred. Too broken. I’m not worth fighting for. Being selfish for. Being…anything for. I was made to love other people, not made to be loved back. Not in the way I need. I will never find that. And I’m done trying.

So, I’m going to break my heart tonight.

And I’m going to leave it broken.

[amplesalty]

Halloween 2022 - Day 20 - Wes Craven’s New Nightmare (1994)

Wes Craven, you’ve done it again!

Well, we’ve come to the end of another of my blu-ray boxsets that have served me so well over recent years and it’s an end of sorts to what could be considered the core Freddy series, though there is still the Friday the 13th crossover and remake after this. Actually, there are two Friday the 13ths next year in January and October. So in January I can watch Jason X and then in October I can do Freddy vs Jason., then I’ll be pretty much done with both series except their remakes. I’ve inadvertently synced this up perfectly.

But that’s next year, for now we’ve got New Nightmare which, for all the times I’ve complained about endless sequels stuck repeating the same format, this one takes the unique approach of taking the monster out of the movie and into ‘real life’. I know one of the Human Centipede sequels takes elements of that but I’m not sure how much that concept has been used outside of that. I suppose you do need this kind of franchise in order to try that idea because you need that established character and brand behind it to really work. You could do it as a one shot movie but I can’t imagine it would be as effective as you’d be coming to this universe and cast of characters totally fresh so it wouldn’t make a difference if they were ‘real’ people being killed or characters in a story.

This meta idea stretches even into the name of the movie itself, obviously being a play on how Wes Craven originated the series and this is his new, fresh take on it but also in the movie itself it’s said that he’s writing a new Freddy movie, only for it to turn out that he’s precognitively writing these ‘real life’ events, right down to conversations he has with Heather Langenkamp.  He’s seeing these events play out in the nightmares he has and then writes them down when he wakes up. And it’s said the original movie was made in the same way too. Where in reality it’s said to have been inspired by reports of Cambodian refugees who mysteriously died in their sleep.

Craven plays a normal version of himself here who seems pretty calm about the whole thing, especially given that he says that Freddy is an extension of an evil supernatural entity that was suppressed by the filming of A Nightmare on Elm Street and its sequels. But, with the franchise being in hiatus after Freddy’s Dead, it manages to manifest itself as Freddy and bring itself into the real world. Where I thought they might be going is the inadvertent popularity of Freddy somehow empowering the entity because there is a scene earlier on that takes place at a chat show where Robert Englund bursts through a wall in full makeup, whipping the crowd into a frenzy and he runs around giving people high fives. It’s almost like he has a cult following, so maybe you could have somewhere Craven is an agent of some dark, shadowy group and was writing these movies to inspire fear in the general public which this entity fed off, only with each passing sequel where Freddy became goofier, Craven now has to convince someone to essentially be a copycat killer in real life to create that hysteria again. Which would add another strange layer of metaness as it’s sort of his attack against how his creation was taken away from him and bastardized.

The other idea they apparently had was that Craven in the movie would have been driven so mad by the franchise and writing this new story that he had actually taken to cut his own eyelids off so that he would never sleep again. Which, whilst I do kinda like that idea in that it would add to this whole ‘curse’ almost that seems to eminating from the Nightmare franchise in this film, how all these different technicians and actors have bad things happening to them, going by what involvement he does have, Craven doesn’t seem like he’d be able to pull that off. Which, fair play to him, he’s not an actor so you can’t judge too harshly. The idea that he would use this as a means of bashing the previous movies isn’t that far fetched given that one of the characters in the movie is a nurse who views horror films as a bad influence on kids and is even named after a critic who was critical of the violence in the Nightmare films. That piece of writing is so much on the nose that you might as well call it a spot.

The movie almost feels a little bit like an alternate take on the often mentioned on this blog Nightmare 2 in that Freddy isn’t in the movie a great deal but it’s more the mythos around him that is inspiring fear and paranoia within people. It certainly pokes at the whole ‘shades of grey’ thing I like so much in that maybe this is all on the level or maybe it’s all in the head of Heather Langenkamp. There are some Stephen King vibes too in that ‘group of people sharing similar dreams/visions’ sort of way, including Robert Englund who just mysteriously vanishes half way through the movie giving only a vage answer phone message that he’s going away for a while. I don’t quite know what they were going for here because they were sort of hinting at him having something going on as he was painting this vivid images of this new, darker Freddy so I don’t know if he was meant to be a red herring of sorts that he goes off radar right around when the killings start happening or if it’s just meant to be suggestive of an off screen death, that maybe Freddy went after him for tarnishing his image or something. But if it was that, wouldn’t that have been nice to see; Freddy Krueger killing off the actor that portrays him?

That does underline the fact though that Freddy is absent for a lot of the movie and even when he does show up, the movie is lacking a lot of that creativity it has in the other movies in terms of the extravagant kills that they’re afforded from taking place in the dream world. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, I appreciate the different direction it takes with the psychological trauma that Langenkamp and her son are going through as a result of all these weird things that are going on but I’ve always praised the series for the death scenes being a cut above some of its rivals and I can imagine there would be large parts of the fanbase that would sorely miss them.

Langenkamps son, Dylan, is an interesting case because for a lot of the movie he only seems to have 2 settings; robotic creepiness or Excorcist level screaming, right down to the projectile vomiting. Similar to Arnie in Terminator though, the roboticness kinda works when you have scenes where Langenkamp wakes up in the middle of the night to find Dylan pacing back and forth saying ‘Never sleep again. Never sleep again.’ There is one scene where he’s shown to be watching clips from the first movie and there’s this element of thinking he’s just been freaked out by it, which is questioned by the aforementioned character named after the critic. It does tie in to this other meta element where Craven is exploring the very phenomon of horror movies themselves and the possible effects they can have on young people who watch them. That would have been an interesting way to take the movie as well if they’d stripped back a lot of the other weird stuff that was happening to other people, you could have it assumed that Dylan just watched the movie and all these mentions of Freddy coming to get him as his imagination before it comes out that Freddy actually is real.

The whole wider look at horror movies extends to the plot point about the earlier movies somehow trapping this entity, there are a series of interview clips with Craven on the blu-ray and one of them has him suggest that where censors might try to cover up these violent movies, perhaps they are suppressing some of the more violent acts in our our lives. I’m not sure if he means as like a distraction from murders on the news or war etc or he’s suggesting there’s less murderers in the world because they’re getting their fix by watching Freddy do it on screen. Who knew Freddy was secretly methodone for serial killers all along?

All in all, a good finale for the series and a serious redemption after Freddy’s Dead. I’m all for taking sequels in interesting new directions and of course I’m a sucker for any movie that plays with the viewer and leaves them wondering just how much of what is going on actually is going on. Though, if anything, I would have liked it more if they’d taken it even further in that direction and really had some of the events seem like they were just in Langenkamp’s head. Like when she does to go to identify the body in the morgue convinced it was due to Freddy, maybe pull back the cover to find no claw marks. But yeah, I’m not sure how much of the series is really considered ‘core’ or not, maybe this set only goes so far because of licensing issues with the crossover and remake but this has been a well above average franchise to watch which is a good achievement when you get 7 movies deep and only really have one stinker amongst them. Even if New Nightmare was the weakest performer of the bunch at the box office (which as silly as it sounds, I wonder how much of that is down to the fact it doesn’t mention Freddy or Elm Street in the title), it certainly drew it’s plaudits and served as a grand sendoff to the series on it’s tenth anniversary. You see, we’re in sync again.