#i was gonna do the 'life series in your style' thing but i gave up after these 4 sorry

[warping-realities]

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the  teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation. 

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret. 

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

[spiderziege]

some guys

[simplyhughes]

A Hughes Summer: The Arrival

Synopsis: A Hughes Summer is an ongoing series about a HughesSister!Reader x Connor Bedard! This will follow multiple scenarios of their summer together spent at the infamous Hughes Lake House! If there are any specific scenarios you’d like to see, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

Content Warning: none!

Pairing: Connor Bedard x Hughes!Reader

Part One

wc: 1k

Navigating dating the best rookie in the league while being surrounded by three brothers, all notable players themselves has been extremely chaotic, to say the least. Hockey has permeated all corners of my life, not that I necessarily mind, but being born into a hockey family has definitely altered my taste in men. Connor, my boyfriend, and my trio of brothers have clashed on the ice before, obscured by layers of gear, battling fiercely for the puck. But today marks the moment of formal introduction, and I can't deny the flutter of nerves within me. My brothers are intense; Quinn has this odd maternal instinct toward me, Jack is just downright wild... and with Luke, I'm actually not too concerned, as long as I keep him supplied with a snack to gnaw on.

As the 2024 hockey season drew to a close, Connor and I made the spontaneous decision to embark on a road trip from Chicago to Michigan, where I planned to introduce him to the beloved Hughes summer lake house tradition. Every summer for as long as I can remember, my family has spent the majority of the summer in Michigan, lounging at the lake house. With every mile closer to our destination, my heart quickened its pace, anticipation mingled with nerves as the moment of collision between my two worlds drew near. Yet, amidst my own jitters, I couldn't help but notice the anxiety radiating from the driver's seat beside me, where Connor sat, his nerves seemingly even more pronounced than mine.

It seemed like he was on a timer; every couple of minutes, he dragged his palms against his thighs, wiping his sweat to keep his grip on the wheel. In between that, he’d run his hands through his hair and check his reflection in the rearview mirror. After watching him do this a few times, I couldn't help but chuckle. Connor glanced over at me before turning back to the road and smiled. “What?” he chuckled back at me.

“You are just cute, that's all,” I replied, still with a smile plastered on my face.

“Oh yeah?”

“For Sure”

The car fell into silence for a minute. It was a comfortable silence, but you couldn't help but feel bad that he was nervous. “Connie, they are gonna love you. I promise.”

“I really hope so, y/n.”

“I know they don't know you yet, but I do know they already admire your skill and drive. But they are gonna love you, promise.”

Connor looked at me, his eyes softened and gave me his signature lopsided smile. I stretched my arm out to the car's console and turned up the radio's volume.

The car rumbled along the graveled, mud-plastered driveway, flanked by towering trees that resembled skyscrapers, the only resemblance to the city we had just departed. Finally, the vehicle came to a halt. Connor shifted the gear to park and wiped his palms once more. He unbuckled his seatbelt, popped the trunk, and went to retrieve some of our luggage from the back. Before handling our belongings, Connor opened my door and offered me a hand. I grasped his hand, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you, Con. Chivalry isn't dead, I suppose. But you gotta do something about the sweat, baby,” I teased.

His eyes rolled, and he bumped me jokingly with his hip. Together, we made our way to the trunk. As I started to gather my things, Connor swiftly snatched the bags from me.

“Hey!” I yelped.

“Chivalry,” he smirked.

Connor, busy with all the bags, let out a huff as he unloaded his arms on the front porch. I rammed my finger into the doorbell multiple times, rapid-fire style, just to annoy my brothers.

“HOLY SHIT MAKE IT STOP!” I heard one of my brothers yell, muffled by the walls. The door swung open revealing the shortest of the three brothers. “QUINNIFER!” I shouted, jumping into his arms. “Hey, Peanut!” he shouted back. We shuffled back into the house where I was then greeted by the other two. After almost being squeezed to death, the attention shifted to the awkward blonde standing alongside the bags. I cleared my throat, “Guys, this is Connor!”

“Hey man, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Quinn said, giving him a handshake. Luke followed suit while Jack just stayed back. The middle brother narrowed his eyes, watching his other brothers greet the new guy. “Jack quit being a dickhead and say hello.

“I’m just busting his chops y/n, don't worry,” Jack smirked. “What's up?” He finally spoke, shaking Connor's hand.

“Quinny, can you please handle our bags while I give Connor the grand tour?”

“Whatever, anything for my favorite sibling,” he replied, immediately getting hassled by the other two.

I managed to grab Connor's hand and sneak him around the brawl leading him into the living room. His eyes trailed along the pictures that decorated the mantle; pictures that told the Hughes’ past summers, the quilt that was draped against the couch; the quilt that was ripped and resewn back together, it held too many memories to throw out. He soaked in the room, observing all the details laid before him. I plopped down onto the couch, also soaking everything in. “What do ya think?” I questioned.

“I think that you were adorable,” Connor gushed while picking up a framed picture from almost 14 years ago. He looked it over for another minute, then put it back down in its spot. I smiled watching Connor, seeing him in this house that meant so much to me. He fit in so perfectly, it’s like he's been here all this time. My smile only grew thinking about the events this summer longs to unfold, how this will be his first summer in Michigan with many more to follow.

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 4

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, also toxic!ellie kind of, mentions of marijuana, sexual speech and content, brief mention of straight girls experimenting with lesbianism, toxic family relationships, lesbian situationship, descriptions and mentions of death & grieving, depressive episodes, cheating if you squint but it's more betrayal than cheating really?, bad driving for like two seconds, description and mention of vomit, minors do not interact

word count: 7k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

Freshman Year, Early Spring

“Are you coming to Jess and Els’ later tonight?” Dina asked, snuggling your pink stuffed bear and laying upside down at the head of your bed with her legs outstretched to the ceiling. 

“Hmm?” You said, distracted. You were rummaging in your messy drawers, trying to find the other pair of a sock you were currently holding in your hand. 

“Ellie said she wants to do a post-midterm celebration with a movie night, which just means we’re gonna watch some lame old sci-fi movie that she and Jesse picked out.” 

“Maybe,” You said, tossing the sock into the other contents of the drawer, giving up. “Can’t stay too late, though. Raf is picking me up really early in the morning tomorrow.” 

“Ooh, can I finally meet The Hottie Cousin Rafael in person?” Dina said, dropping her legs and turning onto her belly to face you. 

You rolled your eyes and said, “You have Jesse, Dina.” 

She shrugged and said, “I bet Hottie Cousin Rafael wouldn’t make me watch lame movies all the time.” 

“Raf is far nerdier than Jesse is, I promise.” 

“If he’s as hot as he looks on FaceTime, his hotness will cancel out the nerdiness.” 

You scrunched up your nose in disgust at Dina’s thirsting after your de facto older brother. 

“I’m not the best judge, but Jesse’s not not hot.” 

Dina laughed. 

“I’m telling El you said that.” 

Your cheeks flushed as you said, “She’ll just say the same thing!” 

“All men are basically ugly in Ellie’s eyes. She’ll say, ‘Jesse’s the uglier version of a walker from The Walking Dead’ or some shit like that.” 

You giggled, knowing that was probably true. 

“Do you have to leave early for spring break?” Dina whined. 

You gave her a sad smile. 

“Sorry, D. You know how my mother is.” 

Dina groaned and, pointing to the plushie she was holding, said, “Barbie Bear, when will you come to life at night Toy Story-style and finally horrifically murder this awful lady?” 

“Dina!” You exclaimed, grabbing your pink bear from her. “Don’t you corrupt Barbie Bear! She is an innocent soul!” 

“Oh, she’s been corrupted already,” Dina said, snatching Barbie Bear back. “I’m sure she’s been a witness to the deplorable things you and Ellie have gotten up to in here.” 

“Dina!” You squealed once more, blushing furiously and hiding your face behind your hands. “She and I have not!” 

“Oh please,” Dina rolled her eyes. “Ellie comes back to her and Jesse’s place the morning after spending the night here with the same cocky ass look that Jesse has after we fuck.” 

“Oh my god—” 

Dina cackled and you giggled nervously. 

“So are you two officially together now or—?” 

“Who, me and Ellie?” You asked. 

“No, you and Jesse.” Dina said sarcastically, throwing Barbie Bear at you. 

You caught the bear at the last second, laughing as you climbed onto your bed with her and handed the plushie back to her. 

“Shut up!” You giggled. “But, umm. I’m not really sure what we are, if I’m being honest.” 

Dina groaned and said, “Ugh, you’re both useless!” 

“I’ve only had one real girlfriend before!” 

“So has Ellie!” 

“Then ask her instead!” 

“Oh, I have.” Dina said, raising her eyebrows. 

You perked up suddenly. 

“Wait, what did she say?” 

“Oh my god, can you two just have the talk already?!” Dina groaned, exasperated at her friends’ incompetence. 

You blushed harder than ever. 

“I just… I just don’t know if she feels the same way I do.” 

Dina rolled her eyes. 

“You’re the first person she texts every morning, and mind you, Ellie hates texting. She will spend an hour in that stupid Jeep of hers in the parking lot outside until you get home from class just to hang out with you. Three of her five hoodies are somewhere here in your room right now. Tara told me that you’ve sexiled her at least twice already.” 

“We have not!” 

“Honey, she literally spent two separate nights at mine and Astrid’s because you and Ellie were over here—” 

Dina made a circle with her right thumb and pointer finger and repeatedly inserted her left pointer in it. 

“OH MY GOD—” You screamed into a pillow. 

Dina was over the moon teasing you as you grabbed your blanket and hid underneath it. 

“I need to offer to do her laundry for two weeks or something,” You said, your voice muffled from beneath the covers. “I’m the worst roommate ever.” 

Dina chuckled, saying, “Don’t worry, she likes you and Ellie together. Just maybe shoot her a warning text before you two wanna scissor, or whatever you lesbians do.” 

“Oh please, like you and Ellie never did anything together.” You said, emerging from underneath your blanket. 

“Okay, first of all,” Dina said, putting up one finger. “Ellie and I kissed once at our sophomore homecoming dance, and that was just to make Jesse jealous.” 

You chuckled. 

Dina put up a second finger. 

“Two, it was like kissing a cousin, so that obviously resulted in zero sexual scenarios whatsoever from that point on. I have never once been compelled to call Ellie ‘daddy’ ever in my life.” 

You screamed into your pillow once more at this. 

Dina put both fingers down and put her middle finger up.��

“And three, I have had gay sex with women before, but they were both also bisexual and there was no scissoring involved!” 

You were laughing uncontrollably now with Dina attacking you with Barbie Bear. 

“Okay, okay!” You giggled, attempting to shield yourself. “Why are we talking about scissoring again?” 

“Because!” 

One hit from Barbie Bear. 

“You are avoiding!” 

Another hit from Barbie Bear. 

“My questions!” 

A third hit from Barbie Bear. 

“About you!” 

An additional hit from Barbie Bear. 

“And Ellie!” 

A final hit from Barbie Bear that landed on your face. 

You snatched your stuffed animal away from Dina before she could swing it once more, pulling it away from her reach. 

“Okay, no more abusing me with Barbie Bear!” You said.

She chuckled. 

“And…” You started, serious now. “I’ve never experienced this before. I’ve had one real girlfriend, which was a high school disaster.” 

You sighed. 

“I briefly saw that one girl Adriana at the beginning of the year before we both realized she was just a rebound to my ex. I’ve hooked up with a few other girls since, and I was even Rebecca’s first lesbian college experiment kiss before she realized she was just straight.” 

Dina was sitting straight up now, staring at you intently and listening attentively. You pulled Barbie Bear into your chest. 

“Ellie is… she feels different. Something in my heart just yearns for her. She makes me feel like I must have done something so great in a past life that her just being in my life is the reward. She makes me feel forgiven and understood and—” 

You paused your Ellie sermon when you made eye contact with Dina, who was looking at you with a soft expression. 

“Sorry!” You threw your hands up apologetically and proceeded to cover your face with them in embarrassment. “I sound like a 12-year-old experiencing their first real crush!” 

Dina chuckled and pulled your hands away from your face. 

“No, you don’t. You sound like someone who Ellie deserves to have in her life, someone who sees her fully and appreciates all the good and bad. She’s gone through her own fair share of romantic and sexual bullshit too, and knowing that she now has you?” 

Dina placed an affectionate hand on your cheek. 

“I know that I don’t have to worry anymore.” 

“Dina, you’re gonna make me cry right now.” 

Dina leaned back into your pillows, laughing. 

“You started it!” 

“You sounded like you were giving away a bride!” 

“Wow, not even officially together yet, but somehow you’re already getting married.” 

You groaned and flopped onto your back. 

“I love her, Dina.” 

“No shit, babe.” 

After the talk you had with Dina, you both went over to Jesse and Ellie’s dorm room. Even though Jesse was a sophomore and Ellie a freshman, they were somehow able to convince the campus housing department to let them room together after both their roommates dropped out during the first month of classes. 

The “lame old sci-fi movie” that they’d picked out turned out to be Jurassic Park, which you’d already seen several times, courtesy of your nerdy older cousin Rafael. Dina was playfully criticizing every little bit of the movie to tease Jesse, who was taking her critiques to heart. As the couple were lovingly bickering with each other on the floor, you and Ellie sat on her bed underneath a blanket. 

You leaned against her shoulder while she was tracing patterns on the palm of your hand. Though she was concentrated on the movie, she would habitually give you a kiss on top of your head, sometimes following with her nose nuzzling your hair. She’d not said she loved you so far, but gestures like this felt like her way of saying it. You felt warm and content and the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. 

After Jesse convinced the rest of you to watch the movie’s sequel (as punishment to Dina for talking through the first), you’d made up your mind to change your spring break plans. 

You were still planning on returning home for the break, but since Ellie, Dina, and Jesse were spending the weekend on campus and not returning to their hometown until Monday, you resolved to at least spend more time with them. You knew that two weeks of spring break didn’t seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. But the thought of being away from your friends whom you loved so deeply, but especially from Ellie, hurt far more than it did when you left home for college in the first place. 

And after your talk with Dina earlier that day, you’d also decided to be honest with Ellie about your feelings for her before you briefly went your separate ways. You knew that maybe it wasn’t the greatest timing to profess your love for the girl of your dreams right before zero physical contact for fourteen days. But Dina helped you further realize the affection you had for Ellie, and you knew you couldn’t go home without letting her know. You also figured that if all went wrong, you could always use the two weeks to save face before returning to campus. 

During the scene with Jeff Goldblum and Julianne Moore’s characters are hiding in a trailer from the T-Rex parents, you texted your cousin Rafael. 

A minute or two passed before he responded. 

You reply immediately. 

Three text bubbles loaded for a second before two texts appeared. 

You felt your cheeks burn. 

You could almost feel your cousin chuckling through text.

You breathed a sigh of relief and gratitude.

You smiled, your heart full and thankful for your favourite cousin. 

Jesse whooped and Dina squealed as she pulled you into a tight hug when you told them you were leaving in two days instead of the next morning. Ellie didn’t say much in the moment, but you felt a glow of happiness radiating from her at the news. When your friends had settled down and continued the movie, Ellie pulled you closer to her and wrapped her arms around you. You leaned into her embrace as she silently decorated your neck with kisses, resolving to call your mother tomorrow morning to break the news. 

You never made that call.

You awoke to your phone buzzing angrily underneath your pillow. Discombobulated, you didn’t fully perceive your surroundings. You’d fallen asleep on Ellie’s bed, still wrapped in her arms. Jesse and Dina had eventually migrated at some point in the night to Jesse’s bed and were sound asleep. You saw that Ellie had plugged your phone into her charger after you’d fallen asleep. Stroking her hair lightly as she slept, you looked at your phone to see it was your mother calling. 

Before accepting the call, you’d seen that you had 7 missed calls and 4 voicemails. You groaned. Was your mother really that upset? 

You didn’t seem that alarmed until you saw that only 6 of those calls and 3 of those voicemails were from your mother. One of each was from your uncle, Rafael’s father. 

Why is Uncle calling me? Did she guilt him into guilting me to come home?

Sighing, you finally accepted your mother’s call. 

Ellie, Jesse, and Dina all awoke to you screaming. All three were at different levels of disorientation at first, but upon seeing your shrieking figure having fallen to the floor, they all rushed to your side. No one seemed sure what to do at first, other than trying to stand you up (to no avail) and ask what was wrong. It was Dina who snapped into sense first, noticing that you were still on a call with your mother. 

She picked up the phone, rushed through an introduction, and worryingly inquired what was happening. Ellie and Jesse watched as her mouth fell open and her eyes widened with shock. She listened to your mother for a minute or two before bringing the other two into the loop. 

Your cousin Rafael was killed in a hit-and-run that morning. Since he was no longer tasked to bring you home that day, he made impromptu plans with old college friends to meet up for an early morning coffee. He was crossing an intersection on the way to the café when a car decided to run a red light. He died on impact. 

Your spring break was consumed completely by black clothing, floral wreaths of white lilies and roses, and an overstocked fridge of homemade food that your family barely touched. You saw no happy faces, only red eyes and quivering lips. You were torn out of the blissful bubble of your college life into a waking, familial nightmare. 

Rafael was your first cousin and not your brother. But it was as if at birth, he claimed you as his sister and the rest was history. 

Everyone who knew either of you was aware of the sibling bond you’d shared. He was the most important person to you for the first 18 years of your life. More than your parents, more than any other family member, more than any of your friends. Saying that he was your best friend was an understatement. 

The two weeks back home with your family were a black haze. You remained locked up in your room for the majority of the time, and when your presence was required, you spoke only when spoken to. You alternated between fits of sobbing and near-comatose states. 

Your only comfort was your uncle, Rafael’s father. You never knew your parents to give genuine love and affection, so you grew up seeing your uncle as a parental figure. Even as he raised Rafael alone as a single father, he often took you under his wing and provided you with a place of home away from your parents’ house. 

Your parents, especially your mother, were preoccupied with putting on the show of a broken family to sympathizers. It was your uncle who made sure you continued to eat and drink every day. He was the one to give you the gentle push to leave your room for the funeral, knowing that you’d one day regret not going. He even spoke to your friends on the phone when you’d stopped responding. By the end of your spring break, Dina had his personal phone number so she could call twice a day for daily updates, which she would promptly share with Jesse and Ellie. 

Unlike your mother, your uncle placed no blame on you for his son’s death. He knew that the one true person to blame was the careless driver in the car that hit him. But your mother was a different story. 

In those last few days before you needed to return to campus, your mother enlightened you with her true feelings. 

She had decided your “selfishness” in inconveniencing your family was what decided Rafael’s fate. If he had been on his way to pick you up from college, he never would have been crossing that intersection. According to her, you’d placed insignificant people you’d known for less than a year over your own family. 

If you were a weaker person, you’d have crumbled under her accusations. She was quite skilled in twisting the truth to her point of view, and she was skilled even more so in making people believe the worst of themselves. But Rafael and your uncle raised you better. You may not have been the most secure person growing up, but they made you feel loved. 

Despite your mother’s malice, you were grateful for her outburst. It snapped you back into reality. Your fury at your mother reminded you that Rafael would not have wanted you to give in to her guilt. 

You knew that his death was not your fault. Of course you were still grieving, but you loved Rafael so much that you would not allow your mother to force you back into a state of living death. Your uncle made sure of this when he drove you back to campus. 

The few hours drive to your dorm, you and your uncle had the most intense and intimate conversation you’d ever had with him. You bawled, you even smiled and laughed a few times, and you talked about the future. It pained you to watch him drive away, the last real living connection you had left to Rafael. 

You may not have been the depressive zombie you were at the news of Rafael’s death, but you no longer lived blissfully in your college bubble. Still, your friends remained sympathetic and loving as you dealt with your grief. 

Ellie remained just as caring and affectionate, at least at first. She made sure to spend all her free time with you to make sure you weren’t left alone to spiral into your depressive thoughts. She didn’t try anything sexual with you and made sure to respect your mourning boundaries. She even set an alarm every week to make sure you were on time for your video therapy sessions (your uncle set you up with a therapist to make sure you remained stable). 

To the outside observer, your grieving process was progressing naturally and healthily. You barely missed class, you still saw your friends on a regular basis, you weren’t bursting out in tears (or so most of your friends thought). No one else felt the need to worry about you more than they had to. 

Except for Dina. 

Having lost her parents at a young age, it was mostly her and her older sister taking care of each other. Part of why she grew to be so close to Jesse was because his parents were family friends who helped them out when their parents passed. 

Dina has dealt with great familial loss before and she saw the signs of someone barely keeping it together. 

That’s why before your freshman year ended, Dina invited you to stay with her and her sister for the summer. 

Summer Before Sophomore Year: Jackson 

Calling your parents to let them know that you weren’t coming back home for most of the summer was a difficult conversation. Your mother threw a fit and your father chastised you for upsetting your mother. But with encouragement of your friends and your uncle (who promised you that he’d ship essentials from your parents’ house to Dina’s as soon as he could), you eagerly accompanied Dina, Jesse, and Ellie to their hometown of Jackson. 

After just a few days in the town, you understood why the trio have remained friends since childhood. The community in Jackson was small but very tight-knit. Everyone knew each other and it seemed unusual for people to leave. They treated each other like family, and you envied the comfy, homey feeling the town radiated. 

Dina’s sister Talia wasn’t around very often, consumed by her full-time job. You didn’t fully understand what she did for work, only that it had something to do with computers. The few times you were actually able to spend time with her, you enjoyed seeing the repertoire between her and her younger sister. Though ten years older than Dina, they treated each other like peers. You saw how Dina grew to be such an emotionally mature person. Talia accepted you with open arms, fulfilling the role of big sister the entire time you were there. 

On the third day of your stay, you finally met Joel. He was Ellie’s adoptive father who took in Ellie at a young age. Though they were not biologically related, you found yourself often chuckling over how similar the two were. 

Ellie’s foul-mouthed behaviour mirrored that of Joel’s, which was a welcome contrast to your parent’s curt and strict speech. He told stories of his past, many of which involved him getting into all sorts of trouble. Though he seemed to have grown out of it, you saw that impulsivity and temperament in Ellie today. 

He was a kind, old man, and you saw why Ellie admired him so. You also noticed just how much he loved Ellie as if he’d birthed her himself. You found yourself desiring the kind of parent Joel was. You had your uncle throughout your childhood, of course, but you still had to go home to the cruelty of your parents at the end of the day. 

Joel seemed to be aware that Ellie dealt back at your university. It was through him that Ellie actually knew her plug. This old pal of Joel’s, Eugene, was originally her (and Dina’s and Jesse’s) dealer back in high school. When they’d graduated and started attending university, Eugene introduced Ellie to an old contact who grew not far from campus once she started dealing. Joel would roll his eyes and scoff any time the topic of Ellie being a dealer came up, but he genuinely didn’t seem to mind as long as she was smart about it. 

On nights when Dina and Jesse were both busy, you found yourself spending the evening at Joel’s house. He was very keen on having you over for dinner often, complaining that Ellie was a very boring conversation partner. You bonded quickly over a number of things, such as your mutual love of coffee (to which Ellie rolled her eyes, claiming that a simple hot chocolate was far superior to that “burnt shit”) and being Ellie’s impulse control. 

About nearly a month into your stay, Dina was picking you up from another dinner at Joel’s and Ellie’s place to walk you back to her house. Both waved you goodbye at the front door (not before you gave Ellie a peck on the cheek) and watched as you and Dina linked arms and walked into the streetlight-lit darkness. 

Once you and Dina were out of their sight, Joel put his hand on Ellie’s shoulder. 

“Come on, kiddo. We need to talk.” 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, old man,” Ellie exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and leaning into the living room couch. 

“Ellie.” 

“Joel.” Ellie said, mocking his serious tone. 

“That girl is so in love with you, and it’s plain to anyone who sees y’all together.” 

Ellie crossed her arms, saying nothing. 

“And it’s as clear as day that you’re head over heels for her too.” 

Ellie scoffed and said, “Don’t assume shit, old timer.” 

“I ain’t assuming anythin’. I know you, and so do Dina and Jesse.” 

“You’ve been talking to Dina and Jesse behind my back?” 

“Now, hold on there,” Joel said, taking a seat at the lounge chair next to the couch Ellie sat on. “They were just tellin’ me about what y’all get up to at that big university, and we just got to talkin’ about you. There weren’t no secret meetings or anythin’ conspirin’ like that.” 

“And what did those two have to say?” 

“That y’all have been basically joined to the hip since y’all met.” Joel said, leaning back. 

“That’s not true—” Ellie began angrily. 

“Look, kid, no need to be pitchin’ a hissy fit. I’m just relayin’ what those two have been observin’. But since y’all took her home, apparently you’ve been actin’ a tad different towards her.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Joel sighed. 

“Ellie, this girl was all you talked about nonstop that whole year you were up at that school. I already know the girl’s favourite colour and coffee order just from the phone calls we had.” 

“I did not talk about her that much.” 

“Yes, you did. There’s no point in denyin’ it.” 

Ellie glared. 

“Now, I wanna know why it seems like you’ve changed your tune on her.” 

“Really, ‘changed my tune?’ Man, you’re getting too old.” 

“Don’t go changin’ the subject. Now, I can see how you’re still clearly sweet on her, but there’s somethin’ a little off. Like you’re holdin’ back from her, or somethin’ like that.” 

“I’m just not a people person, Joel, and you know that.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Ellie,” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and looked directly at her. “Do you love her?” 

“Come on, man—” 

“Ellie.” 

Ellie met Joel’s eyes and saw that he was waiting for a truthful answer. She exhaled, took a beat, and responded. 

“I don’t love her.” 

Joel sighed sadly. 

“Thought I taught you better than that, kiddo.” 

She looked away, saying, “We’re not even dating.” 

“Does she know that?  

“She’s not stupid.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

Ellie stood up, exasperated. 

“Why does any of this matter, Joel!” 

“Because that poor darlin’ just lost her own kin, so if you’re fixin’ to break her heart, you need to stop stringin’ her along.” 

“I’m not doing anything!” 

“I like this girl for you, Ellie. She’s got a kind soul that somehow blossomed past her upbringin’. She brings out the best in you, even if you try to hide it. She thinks the world of you, kid, bless her heart. Don’t do somethin’ you’ll regret.” 

“I haven’t done shit!” Ellie yelled, standing up from the couch. 

“Daggum it, stop actin’ childish and listen to what I’m sayin’ here, Ellie.” 

Ellie stormed out of the room without another word. 

After the conversation she had with Joel, Ellie began acting distant towards you. It started with the little things: keeping her hands in her pockets while you walked around town to avoid holding your outstretched hand, no longer inviting you over to dinner at Joel’s unless Dina or Jesse planned on coming along, no more public displays of affection and very limited tenderness in private. 

Dina was right in her assumption that you were barely holding it together. The anxiety as a result of Ellie’s behaviour, on top of your grief over your cousin’s death, began unraveling you. 

Your late-night talks with Dina became less and less. You began sitting next to her or Jesse more often than you did Ellie. Dina would walk in on you completely spaced out and it took several minutes to get a verbal response out of you. 

Dina and Jesse were sure that if you came back with them to Jackson, being around the presence of those who loved you as opposed to people who resented you would ease your grieving process. They didn’t, however, predict that Ellie become a hurdle to your progress. And they certainly did not predict Ellie’s idiotic actions that followed. 

“I thought we were having a movie night,” Jesse said, eyebrows furrowed. “I brought DVDs.” 

Ellie chuckled, saying, “You know there are these things called ‘streaming services’ now, Jess.” 

“Hypocrite. You and Joel have stacks of DVDs of every action and sci-fi movie ever made in your living room.” 

“What can I say, I’ve gotten with the times.” 

“Like hell you have.” 

You, Dina, and Jesse were all bunched up on the pull-out couch in Dina’s basement (where you were residing for the summer). Jesse was messing with the TV’s remote to find the right input while you and Dina were snuggled up underneath the same blanket. Your tired eyes watched as Ellie pulled her flannel on and rolled her sleeves up, revealing that fern tattoo you loved so much on her right forearm. 

“Who the fuck is more important than us, anyway?” Dina said, frowning. 

Ellie chuckled again, saying, “We hang out almost every day, D. You’ll survive the night.” 

“You’re not coming back after dinner?” 

“We’ll see, but don’t wait up.” 

Your eyes then fell down to your fingers, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket. You haven’t spoken out loud once tonight since Ellie’d walked in. 

“You’re banned from our friend group now. You may reapply in 3-6 months.” Dina said, flipping Ellie off. 

“Literally one dinner, drama queen.” 

“Where are you even going?” 

“Rivers Café.” 

You didn’t notice how Jesse’s and Dina’s faces fell. 

“Gonna be late, so see you guys later.” Ellie said, walking up the stairs without a second glance. 

After a beat or two, Jesse spoke. 

“What the actual fuck.” 

“Jesse—“ Dina began. 

“I love her, but god damn it.” Jesse got up and started shuffling through the DVDs he brought. 

There was a palpable tension in the air for the rest of the night. An old martial arts movie was playing, but none of you were paying much attention. Nobody said anything, besides a comment every now and again from Dina noting how unrealistic some fighting move was. 

Ellie didn’t come back to Dina’s that night. 

Two weeks before classes started, your things were packed to return to your parents’ house. You didn’t want to leave, but you needed to properly prepare for the start of your junior year. 

Dina was watchful and clingy before you left, constantly letting you know that the first thing she was going to do when you all returned to campus was hunt you down for a coffee date. Jesse would chuckle at this, saying that he’d probably see you when she dragged him along to it. 

Dina’s sister Talia said goodbye to you three days before your departure, needing to leave for a brief business trip the day before. She pulled you into a very tight hug, telling you that you were always welcome in their home and to feel free to tag along with Dina during any school breaks. 

You had a last dinner at Joel’s the night before you left. He made you and Ellie a simple pasta dish, which you learned was his late daughter Sarah’s favourite meal. He and you shared a sweet and intimate conversation where you both opened up about your shared familial losses. He told you about Sarah and you talked about Rafael. You understood why Joel was so protective over Ellie, having lost Sarah when she was only 12. You were happy that Ellie had someone like that in her life. 

Surprisingly, Ellie had offered to drive you home. You were starved for her attention, so you happily accepted. You offered for her to stay in your parents’ guest room for a night so she wouldn’t have to do so much driving in one day, but she said she didn’t mind. You felt disappointed, but you also didn’t want to subject her to your parents more than you had to. 

Dina and Jesse were the ones who waved you off (Joel sent his regards with Ellie when she came to Dina’s place to pick you up). You reassured them both that two weeks was not a very long time, though you were partly saying it out loud to convince yourself of it too. Your hand was the last thing they saw, waving from the passenger’s window of Ellie’s car. 

As you drove away from the gates of Jackson, there was not much noise except an Aminé song playing in the background and the occasional bird call heard outside from the rolled-down windows. 

There was a heaviness in your heart that weighed more and more the further from Jackson you were. Though you didn’t grow up there, the locals were so naturally welcoming. Being there felt like coming home every day. It was a safe and healthy place for you to process your grief. You wished summer went on forever. 

After a little while of silence between you and Ellie during which you lamented on your departure, you began to feel the awkwardness between you two. She hadn’t said anything and it didn’t seem like she had any intention to. You shrunk in your seat and began fidgeting and braced yourself to say something. 

“Um,” You started. “Thanks for offering to drive me back.” 

“No big deal,” Ellie replied. “Happy to do it.” 

You could feel your heart beating in your ears. 

“Why’d you decide to?” 

Ellie shrugged. “Just wanted to be a good friend.” 

You winced. 

“Is… is that what we are, El? Just friends?” You asked meekly. 

“I mean, yeah. Of course.” 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. 

Is this how she really feels? Has this how she’s felt the whole year we’ve been doing all this? Have I just been reading into all this wrong? 

You attempted to suppress a bubbling anxiety attack, trying not to hyperventilate. Ellie seemed to be content with the silence and said nothing. 

Trying to distract yourself, you whipped out your phone to text Dina. 

She replied almost immediately. 

After a few seconds, another text from her popped up. 

You chuckled silently, replying: 

Ellie noticed the sudden sound, saying, “What are you laughing about?” 

“Just Jesse.” You said. 

“Ahh” was all she said in reply. 

You refused to look her way, feeling like seeing her disinterested face would make you feel worse than you already were. 

You texted Dina, saying: 

Three text bubbles appeared before her texts popped up. 

You gulped, even more anxious than before.

You tried to ignore the nagging feeling that there was something else going on, something you weren’t privy to. You and Ellie were inseparable most of freshman year, even before you were explicitly doing things that regular friends didn’t do. 

What’s changed? 

Sometime during your internal struggle, you’d drifted off to sleep. You woke up groggy and disoriented, taking a moment to realize you were still in the passenger seat of Ellie’s Jeep. The sun was further west than before. You glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 

“How much further do we have?” You asked, voice raspy. 

“About an hour or so.” 

“Oh.” 

You’d been asleep for longer than you thought. Feeling guilty, you wiped some drool off your chin and yawned quietly. 

“I’m sorry for passing out on you.” 

“All good.” Ellie said. 

“Did I snore?” 

Ellie shrugged and you stopped yourself from letting out an incredibly audible and frustrated sigh. 

Five or ten minutes passed during which you were wrestling with yourself on making use of the rest of the time to confront Ellie. In the end, you decided that two weeks of this anxiety eating at you was not worth it. 

“Els?” 

She didn’t seem to hear you. 

You cleared your throat and said a little louder, “Ellie.” 

“What’s up?” She said, dryly. 

You took a deep breath. 

“What’s been going on?” You asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

You bit the inside of your lip. 

“I mean…” You began. “You haven’t been yourself lately.” 

“I don’t really know what you’re talking about.” 

“Ellie, come on. You’ve been… different.” 

She didn’t answer. 

“Jesse and Dina both agree with me.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed. 

“I don’t really appreciate people talking about me behind my back.” 

“We’re not!” You exclaimed. “We’ve just been wondering why you’re so distant lately.” 

“Just cause I’m not much of a talker doesn’t mean I’ve been distant.” 

You used to talk all the time with me. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Ellie. You don’t seem to like hanging out with us, and you cancel on us half the time. You don’t tell us what you’ve been up to or where you’ve been.” 

You gulped. 

“Like that movie night at Dina’s place. You agreed to come over for a sleepover, and you came for five minutes then bailed on us and didn’t even tell us where you were going.” 

“Yes, I did!” 

“Not ‘til the very end! You didn’t even tell us who you were seeing!” 

“Why does that even matter?” 

“It’s not that, Ellie! It’s just that you’ve been elusive and secretive, and I don’t like it!” 

“Well, that’s not really my problem, is it?” 

Her words pierced your heart and it took everything you had to keep going and not break down. 

Is that what I’ve become now? Your problem, Ellie? 

“I guess not.” You said quietly. 

A few minutes of silence passed. You were fidgeting in your seat once more while Ellie seemed completely disinterested in further conversation. 

But you refused to go back with all this unresolved. 

“Who did you see?” You asked suddenly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“At that café. Who did you go see?” 

“Why do you care?” Ellie scoffed. 

“Why won’t you answer?” 

Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“It was just an old friend, okay? Jesus,” She said, irritated. “I have other friends besides Jesse and Dina.” 

“Who was it, Ellie?” 

“Her name is Cat! God, enough with the questions.” 

You froze for a moment until you finally murmured, “Cat, your ex-girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“You guess?” 

“What the fuck do you want from me, dude?” Ellie cried, coming to a stop at a red light a little rougher than needed. 

You blinked. 

“What?” You asked quietly. 

“What?” Ellie repeated, angrily. 

“Why did you call me that? You never… You always—” 

You always call me “babe.” Or “baby.” I thought I was your baby. 

“Whatever,” You said, shaking your head. “I just don’t know why you’d see her. I thought you hadn’t kept in contact with her since high school.” 

“We reconnected over the summer,” Ellie huffed, slowly putting her foot down on the accelerator. “Didn’t realize that was a fucking crime.” 

Your mouth quivered as silent, betraying tears began to fall. 

“Am I a joke to you, Ellie?” You whispered. 

“What?” 

“Am I a FUCKING joke to you?” You shouted. 

Ellie froze, almost swerving. She’d never heard you raise your voice this way. 

“I thought… I thought I meant more to you. I thought that we had something. What the fuck did I do wrong? What did I do?” 

Your right hand was wiping tears away while your left was clutching your stomach tightly. You felt like you needed to hurl. 

“You don’t look at me anymore. You don’t touch me. Why did you start talking to her again? Why wouldn’t you talk to me? Was I not fucking enough?” 

There was a pause before Ellie spoke. 

“You’re not my girlfriend. I have no obligation to you.” 

You felt as if the world disappeared from underneath you and you were falling. You were no longer in the passenger seat of Ellie’s car. No, you were plunging into a dark abyss, the same one that your friends had saved you from falling into when Rafael died. But here you were anyway. And it was Ellie who pushed you in. 

Before you knew it, Ellie had pulled up to the curb of your house. The sound of her engine turning off snapped you back into reality briefly. As you unbuckled yourself, you realized that on top of a plain black tank, you were wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt that Ellie’d lent you. You tore it off and threw it to the floor. 

Before Ellie could even move, you were out of the car and pulling your bags out of Ellie’s backseat. By the time Ellie unbuckled herself and got out of the driver seat, you had all your bags in hand and ready to trudge up your parents’ driveway. 

You felt you probably looked ridiculous: tears and snot running down your face while you struggled with several heavy bags. But you didn’t care. You needed a wall between you and Ellie immediately. 

“Look—” Ellie started, taking a few steps. 

You dropped your bags and started towards her. 

“Fuck you, Ellie Williams.” You spat. 

“Fuck you for lying to me. Fuck you for leading me on. Fuck you for letting me fall in love with you. Fuck you for breaking my heart.” 

Ellie stopped in her tracks. 

“You... you—” She began, but her voice caught. 

By the time she found her voice again, you had already picked your bags up and hauled them to the front porch, keys already in your hand to unlock the door. She almost called your name out and yelled for you to wait, but you had thrown your bags through the threshold so quickly and disappeared almost immediately after them. 

Ellie jumped at the sound of the front door slamming. 

The second you had closed the door behind you, you leaned into one of your mother’s decorative urns and vomited.

author's notes:

is barbie bear based on an actual stuffed bear i own and is named barbie and is that a picture of her in the icon at the beginning of the fic? no

i was SO so nervous to post this omg, cause not only is this a long ass chapter, but i wanted to make sure to give proper explanation to present day events. i hope i did it justice! lmk what y'all think!!

writing a flashback chapter was so fun?? might do at least another one at some point

also i meant to mention this in a previous chapter, but reader's cousin rafael is actually based on an older cousin of mine (who has the same name but we all call him by a nickname) who actually has a similar-ish relationship with me as reader does with her cousin (he and i are only a year apart tho and reader & her rafael are several years apart), but dw my cousin is still alive sdklfjslsldkfj

btw pls notice that rivers cafe is an actual place in the games hehe (so was ruston coffee in the last chapter)

oh also if you have ever been sexiled before, i am so sorry and you will see heaven as reparations (i on the other hand will not as i have been a sexiler myself oops)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @chrissyfishywissy, @yevheniiaaa

[dearestspirit]

a note heard in heaven - 03

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 4,414 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health.

series masterlist | previous part | next part

You’re fanning your face, trying to combat the heat the alcohol you drank at dinner brings to your cheeks.

“The Count just kept pouring me more.” You whine, eyes closing with how exhausted you feel.

“Mhm, poor you.” Mizu nods, still trying to quell the burning in her chest.

She reaches out, gingerly taking the buttons of your dress between her fingers to undo them. You meet her eyes in the long mirror standing in front of you. Before she can finish unbuttoning, you turn to her with an idea. Your hands land on her upper arms, grinning up at her.

“Have you ever worn fancy clothes like this, Mizu?” You’re suddenly dashing around your room, rummaging through your Western styled fabrics. “Let me dress you up!”

“I don’t think that’s the greatest idea.” She shrugs, unsure.

“Why not?” Your head turns over your shoulder to pout. “It’ll be fun.”

She notices that your frantic searching through your clothes has slowed down to a more… gloomy pace. A hint of guilt churns her stomach. Tutting her tongue, she shakes her head. Coming to stand next to you, she sighs and knocks her shoulder into yours.

“Fine, but I pick.” Mizu grumbles.

That light returns to your eyes, the gleam of your smile making her lips curl. It mystifies her, the way she’s grown so fond of your antics. Your everyday interactions started to feel mundane… domestic, even. Mizu had somehow comfortably settled into her role alongside you, your handmaiden. Taigen and your money were the last things on her mind. Part of her wanted to take your face in her hand, stroke her thumb across your cheek. Show you some whisper of affection; the kind you had clearly never gotten, the kind she could tell you craved, but… maybe she craved it too. Flinching was always her base instinct whenever anyone tried to touch her. With you, though? She found she didn’t mind it when your warm hands clasped around her arm. Of course she’d still roll her eyes and let out a huff of feigned annoyance at you, even though she liked when you were close to her. Would it be so wrong of her to think that for once in her life she could protect rather than hurt?

“Well go on, get undressed!” You tell her, bouncing on your feet waiting to shower her in all the elegance you could.

“Are you gonna turn around?” She asks.

“I will, sorry… Looks like The Count gave me too much wine.” You mumble with a nervous chuckle, blaming the heat you feel on your cheeks to the alcohol once more.

After you finally turn, Mizu tries her best to shake the tingle of nerves she feels. She had already seen you unclothed before, but there was never a reason for you to see her. Though, she figured she’d at least still have her underclothes on. She wonders if your eyes would follow the natural lines of her body. Always, your skin had been separated from hers by way of gloves or sleeves or something. Besides that bath she had given you, where you had shallowly dug your nails into her elbow… she wanted more of it. The heat of your palm, the pinch of your fingers. A lump in her throat forms, taking a shaky swallow to steady herself. She disrobes, doing so leisurely as to avoid whatever your reaction would be to seeing her bare. She’s sure there’s probably a few scars here and there, that hopefully you’d avoid questioning– how many household incidents could she conjure up on the spot before you got suspicious, after all– and maybe for this sole moment, she cares about what someone else will think. Taking a deep breath, she kicks her clothes to the side.

“There, I’m done.” Mizu says. “The dress… it’s probably too complicated for me to put on myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out,” Your voice is breathy, and you’re waving your hands around to gesture to her that she can do it. “You’re smart after all!”

Mizu pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “I’m asking for your help. Just turn around already. It’s not a big deal if you don’t make it one.”

“Okay.” You think that once you turn around, Mizu will see the beat of your heart through your chest.

She’s just… standing there. Awkwardly alluring, somehow. You can tell her stare is dead set on you, observing the way your gaze moves from floorboards to up her calves to her abdomen to her chest to her face to the hair framing her. She’d usually take it down for bed to be more comfortable, but always put it up when in your presence. To think that you could reach out, brush your nails down her scalp and twirl the long strands in your fingers; or that one day you could lay beside her and see it fan out on the pillow beneath her. You wanted it, and the grief that you might not get it made your chest constrict. Meticulously treading towards her, you gather up the dress and hold it out for her to step into.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Mizu says, and you wonder if you can hear some sort of trepidation in her voice.

“Sorry.” You mutter sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

She doesn’t say anything in response, letting you go through the motions of dressing her up. Turning when you tell her to, watching your eyes rake over her reflection. When you take her hair into your hands to brush it, she lets out a groan of contentment. You hope she can’t feel the way your movements grow wobbly. There's a few tangles in her hair that you mutter apologies for snagging with your comb.

“So jittery,” Mizu looks over her shoulder at you. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Maybe.” You’re whispering, gathering her hair together and putting it into a low bun.

She can’t say she was expecting anything other than a ‘no’ to that question. All she could do was nod, letting the conversation die before it became a mistake she couldn’t afford to make. She’d ignore the way your fingers swept across the back of her neck, despite the touch making her want to turn around and reciprocate. When she suddenly hears you shuffling through some things behind her, she moves to face you.

“These,” You’re handing her those blue spinel earrings, the ones you said reminded you of her eyes. “They’ll suit you.”

Your words could’ve made her laugh, the way they were exactly what she thought of you. “Alright, alright.”

Mizu had doubts about how they’d look on her. She takes them from you– being very mindful that they’re worth more than anything she’s held before– until they finally sit, gems dangling from her ears. You circle around her, standing beside the mirror as she looks at herself.

“You look like a Lady when you’re all dressed up like this,” You’re giggling, hand to your mouth. “I think I understand what The Count means, now.”

“About what?” She asks, still tilting her head at her image in the mirror.

“At night, in bed…” Your eyes become glossy, lips parted. “I think of your face.”

Blindsided, Mizu’s reaction is to scoff, pushing away whatever emotion she might’ve genuinely felt in that moment. “I’m your handmaiden, I’m the last person you see before bed. Of course you think of me.”

She watches you shrug, and it’s as if she can see you curl in on yourself. That’s how it should be, she knows this. Her job was to get close to you, but not this close. Still, she contemplates if she was a little harsh, taking notice of the pinprick of tears at the corner of your eyes.

“Look, this was fun, sure,” Mizu sighs, moving behind you. “Let’s just get you ready for bed, okay?”

She’s faced with the plethora of buttons lining the back of your dress. It reminded her of when she was once a child– the old woman taking care of her had stolen a doll for her. The clothes, made to resemble one of your status, were just like this. Buttons, frills. Fragile, delicate, cute. Did you pick this dress on purpose? Knowing she’d stand behind you, amused to undo them all one by one. To reveal yourself to her. To bare your everything to her. It’d be laughably easy, considering her experience as a pickpocket, to guide her hand inside and couple that softness of yours with the roughness of her palm. Graze that callous skin over the peak of your breast and hear your breath hitch as it catches in your throat. She guides your sleeves down your arms, surprised when you turn around.

“I’ll take care of you, too.”

She sucks in a breath, wondering if you too are going through the same thoughts as her. Undoing the laces, pulling at the cords for them to loosen, did it excite you? Your arms wrap around her as you reach for the strings in front. Curiosity gets the better of you as you bring a gloved hand to her back, finger gliding down the top of her spine.

She arches away from your featherlight touch in an instant. Her brows are furrowed when she looks at you, causing you to shrug with a smile.

“Miss…” Mizu starts, still forming her next sentence in her mind. “Are you really going to marry your fiance?”

“It’s what I’m supposed to do,” That smile slips off your face, rendering you to a neutral expression. “He needs my fortune to buy the collection of an esteemed Frenchman.”

She frowns, even as she helps disrobe you of the bothersome corset you wore. Lowering your underclothes, as well. You were obviously not thrilled at the idea of who you were set to marry. It aggravated her. You've been forced into this life, when you deserved to be taken far, far away from any selfish man who tried to prey upon you.

But wasn’t she doing the same?

“Do you ever think about marrying someone else?” She’s leading you, dropping you into unforgiving hands. “Like The Count?”

“You…” Your hands coming up to cover your chest, you clicked your tongue, hiding your words behind a stutter. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

Mizu is shocked when you turn her around forcefully– how many times would you two go through this back and forth tonight– deciding to avoid that topic as you rid her of her underclothes.

“I’ll get my resting clothes on myself.” You whisper, throat scratchy and she’s sure she can guess why.

She wants to take you by the arms, tell you to not think about these men. To run. To escape the teeth that are begging to pierce into you. The pounding in her chest made her lightheaded, thinking of you, fragile you, wounded and alone with no one’s love.

If only she was here to save you.

Tomorrow’s the day your fiance leaves for his week-long escapade to check in on your family’s businesses accumulating wealth. You’d be free of your readings, and The Count would come give you painting lessons in the afternoon.

Mizu’s pretending to wipe down a table as you longingly gaze out the window. It’s nearing the time for Taigen to come to your rescue, ridding you of your loneliness. At least for a few hours. She frowns, shaking her head. How unfortunate, she thinks, that you’ve lost your heart to some phony like him. You’re skittering around the room, rearranging things and busying yourself. It’s… a little pathetic, but Mizu figures she shouldn’t judge. After all, you’ve basically been forced into this love. Her eyes never leave you, even as you check on your appearance in the mirror. Fiddling with your sleeves and how they sit on your shoulders, making sure your skirt is clean and wrinkle free. When the clock sounds off, alerting the turn of the hour, you’re smiling. All bashful and innocent as you tuck your chin to your chest, waiting for The Count to come through that door.

He doesn’t.

Mizu watches the clock tick, and as it does, your face falls ever further into a deep gloom. She takes it upon herself to head out the door and search for him. Greeted by Taigen blatantly flirting with one of the other maids, she coughs. The maid is giggling up a storm, somehow charmed by him, if the red flush on her face was anything to go by. Mizu jerks her head in your direction. Taigen shakes his head, holding up a finger to tell her to wait. Right, his obsession with making you wait, as if that’d make you fall for him even more. She honestly can’t wait to be rid of this bastard.

Shutting the door behind her, she meets your eyes, shaking her head. The pout on your face lingers. Her lids droop a little, as she takes in the sight of your lips. Could she make you smile if her own lips met at the corner of your mouth? If she petted your head and told you not to worry? Just a little bit of affection, enough to perk you back up. Instead, you two sit in silence for the next ten minutes, waiting for The Count. She feels a crack form somewhere deep within her, watching you jump out of your seat as the door bursts open to reveal him.

He’s sitting you down in front of an easel, a still life of peaches and other various objects already sorted out on the table. The Count leans over your shoulder, breath rolling over your skin. Mizu can tell he’s spewing nonsense he made up on the spot, complimenting your ‘vision’ and ability to transcend art. You’ve got three somewhat peach colored blobs on a piece of paper. Not that you couldn’t eventually grow your skill, but… he was reaching. Needlessly laying it on thick to try to pry you out of your shell.

Mizu nearly pukes.

At the sound of her groan, you peek over at her. She’s smiling at you– you think, at least– and all of a sudden you’re shining.

“That’s enough for today,” The Count declares, picking up one of the peaches used for your painting. Biting down into it, the fruit’s juices spray. “Almost fully ripe.”

Mizu tries to disguise her look of disgust, but nods. Did he really already think you were on your way to being in love with him? Enough to say yes to a spontaneous proposal? Though, your behavior around him… she had to guess that you were, too. All shy glances and hushed whispers, hiding your face when he looked at you. Your heart… your poor heart that you’d never again open up to anyone in the world.

It’s a bit later, the two of you taking a walk through some of the paths on your estate. You’re taking slow steps, behind her by a fair amount. When she turns to look at you, she grins.

“You know, ever since The Count showed up you’ve been all shy,” Mizu teases, poking at your face. “All red and embarrassed.”

“Really?” You mumble, your own palm coming up to touch your cheek.

She laughs, amused at your reaction. Maybe Taigen was right, you are almost fully ripe.

“Mizu,” The way you call her name silences her laugh. “How did your mom die?”

That was the last thing she expected you to ask, but she swallowed anyway, preparing herself to answer. “When I was a baby, she was hanged-”

“She hanged herself?” Your eyes are once again full of tears. “That’s how my aunt died.”

She wants to shush you, press a sympathetic kiss to your forehead, anything if it means never seeing your eyes like that again. To tuck the flyaways of your hair back to their respective place, to rub your back until you have no tears left to give.

“Yeah, something like that.” Mizu chuckles, but you continue to stare at her intently.

“Did your mom hug you a lot? My mother died while giving birth to me… it’s like I did it myself,” You stride towards her, taking her arms in your hands, thumbs caressing her elbows. She can hear you gulp, she sees your eyes look up at the cloud filled sky. “I shouldn’t have been born.”

Oh, you really were a poor thing. Those thoughts of yours, she recalls the times they’d cross her own mind. When she’d see her eyes staring back at her in the mirror, a pool of water; when someone would look at her strangely, or run from her in fear. Being here, though, at your home with you… you’d never reacted to her in such a way. You called her eyes pretty. You filled your time with her with smiles, laughs, even when you were being a bratty princess. It's as if those moments were in the far reaches of her mind around you. She wished, and maybe hoped, that she could do the same for you. Mizu knew you weren’t the most chipper, but this? Trying to insert The Count into this would be too far, even for her.

Mizu’s mouth falls open, shaking her head. “What?”

“Sorry.” You hiccup, sniffling, and she can see the sob rack through your chest. You give her a sorrowful smile, waving your hand to drop the conversation. “It’s just been on my mind.”

“Miss…” Mizu frowns, a real one, worried for you. She puts the basket she was holding on the ground next to her, hands now free to cup your face. “I’m sure your mother thought she was very lucky to have you before she died. If she could’ve told you that, she would’ve. Don’t feel guilty for being born.”

You nuzzle your cheek deeper into her palm, grasping at her wrist. Fearing that once she let go of you, she’d disappear. That closeness you haven’t felt since your aunt died, the heat of another human’s skin, meant just to comfort you rather than take. When her hands slip from your face, you can’t help but follow after her.

“Wait here,” She takes a towel out of the basket she held, laying it out on top of a rock. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with you.” She can barely take a step before you’re already trying to get up.

“I said wait.” Her hands press down on your thighs to make you sit, though you would’ve obeyed just because of her authoritative voice alone.

Mizu hurries back down the path, plan in mind. The woods surrounding the estate had lots of tasty forage– mushrooms, herbs, flowers. She used to survive off of the land, even when it didn’t give much. She’d come home, personally make you a warm meal– to the best of her lackluster ability, at least– and she’d see you smile. Your chest would fall with a sigh of relief, she’d get to watch your muscles ease from their normally tensed positions. You’d settle back into your bed, tired eyes and deep breaths. Mizu would kiss your forehead, your cheek, the junction between neck and shoulder. Her determination grows until she knocks into Taigen, taking her out of her daydream.

“Thanks for getting me alone with her,” He lowers his mouth close to her so only she can hear. “Good girl.”

“Fuck off.” She hisses, batting his hand away from her.

She’s stomping away until she gets the bright idea to hide behind a tree and eavesdrop. Something about leaving you alone with him felt wrong, at least this early on in the plan. There was a whole week before your fiance would be back, giving her plenty of time to ease her nerves. Nerves she wasn’t fully sure why they were there to begin with, but they were. She’d just have to make do and deal with them. Meaning spying on Taigen.

Nothing even happens between the two of you, so she’s not sure why she was worried. All he did was ask to sit by you. Mizu eventually ran off into the woods to do what she originally set out to do. At some point the weather had turned, rain coming down in heavy splatters. She hoped Taigen had enough sense to take you inside. She returns to the estate with a full basket, coming upon one of the windows that looks inside.

You’re there, hair down and damp, as Taigen sits next to you. You must’ve gotten caught in the rain together. He’s started a fire for the two of you, which makes her grin. He must be doing a good job at getting your attention, surely. She falters only when she notices him lean closer. His hands crawl across your body, from cheek to upper arm to ass. Mizu scowls at his impatience. His greed, his selfishness. He laughs, a wide, fang-bearing smile that’s disconcerting. You’re wriggling away from his grasp, and Mizu swears her veins sear with the rage that flares inside her. It takes a mere minute for her to storm inside, being scolded by another maid for using the wrong entrance.

“I don’t fucking care.” She spats, bounding up the stairs.

She tosses aside the basket of everything she had painstakingly picked for you, watching the goods roll down the steps.

It didn’t matter.

You were fully ripe, and Taigen had plucked you.

Mizu’s exhausted. She had gotten next to no sleep the day before, even though she retired to bed early, feigning sickness to Madame Kaji so that she didn’t have to put up with you. Not like you’d mind, probably off giggling and twirling your hair with fucking Taigen.

It didn’t help that she had to third wheel on this little painting excursion he’d insisted upon. She’s got an easel hanging off her back, canvases in her arm, and the many watercolor supplies that Taigen asked her to bring. Far behind you two, she simmered. Wishing to have never come here, to have never met you.

“Mizu,” Taigen calls out for her. “You brought watercolors, right?”

“Mhm. The paints and brushes.” Mizu nods.

“Ah, on second thought…” He scratches his chin. “Go get the oils instead.”

Looking at the path behind her, she exhales. Ungracefully dropping half the supplies on the ground, she runs off back to the estate. You were going to be alone with him. Were you okay with that? Yesterday, you had tried to writhe out of his touch, but was that just you being coy? She’s panting, sprinting across the house’s perfected grass yard, not caring about the walkway of stepping stones. It’s the fastest she’s ever run in her fucking life, she thinks, taking the stairs two at a time. Finally in the room you usually have your lessons in, she hurriedly gathers up all the oil paints and brushes. She nearly trips going back down the stairs, dropping the case of them.

“Shit!” She shrieks, not bothering to neatly place them back in their container.

Heading back down the trail, she’s calling out for The Count. There’s a moment of relief when she spots the bright color of the kimono you’d chosen to wear that day, before her world stops. Those cracks that lurk within her– they shatter, rending her to pieces.

You’re perched in his lap, mouths locked together in a passionate kiss. His hands creep up the parted length of your kimono, brushing against your bare calf and up to the backs of your thighs. Further. Frantically, your hands paw at his shoulder blades, nails digging into the fabric of his well-kept suit, wrinkling it. Even from a distance, she can hear your sighs of pleasure, she can hear your lips part to let his tongue enter your mouth. She can hear the rustling, the crotch of his pants rolling against the front of your kimono.

“Miss?” Mizu asks, breath hitched.

You’re in shock when you hear her, pulling yourself out of The Count’s hold and standing up. Your hair, mussed-up by his hands, flutters behind you in the breeze. To her, you’d look beautiful, if it weren’t for your lips stained by another man's kiss, if it weren’t for Taigen sitting under you. He doesn’t even fucking look guilty. Not even meeting her eyes, either. If looks could kill, Taigen would’ve been six feet underground yesterday. And you? You look like a kicked puppy, big, apologetic, wet eyes pleading with her. It almost works, before she scoffs, turning heel. This was all one big mistake. One after the other. Agreeing to Taigen’s plan, meeting you, enjoying your time together. It was nothing, she tried to reason with herself. You were a brat. Rich, spoiled, and maybe you deserved what was coming your way.

Nightfall does little to assuage her animosity. There’s a blackout tonight, but she didn’t care. Her eyes burnt holes into the sliding screen that led to your room, right across from her bedroll. She hated it. Hated you. She couldn’t wait until Taigen threw you away. She’d get her fair share of the money, travel to some distant part of the world. Gorge herself on all the food she could never afford, saturate her home with shiny gems and extravagant clothes. You, her Lady, would never cross her mind again. Not your face, not your body, nothing. She had her whole life ahead of her, a life devoid of you. She hisses, blinking back the suffocating heat she feels behind her eyes. The rest of her time here, she’d ignore you. She’ll keep faking sick to Madame Kaji, or ask Ise to fill in for her, or something. Anything to stay away from you.

How could she look at you again? You, fully ripe. You, who once called her pretty. You, who she once briefly thought she could protect. But she can’t save you from your own foolishness, so what can she do besides continue to lead you towards that guillotine? Your heart will split in two, and she and Taigen are destined to feast upon the scraps.

The bell outside your door rings.

She knows you need her.

It’s connected to a string next to your bed that you can pull, requesting her presence. It’s loud enough to wake her up if she’s ever asleep.

She knows you need her.

She rolls over in her bed, forcibly closing her eyes.

a/n: part 3!! sorry for the delay between last part and this one, life has been hectic!! hopefully i'll be able to get another 2 parts out before the end of the year. i can say already that there won't be another part until at least next week, so again sorry for the long stretch between updates!! <3

[sourholland]

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → we are so back. here’s the official playlist for style 🩵 also there’s a dual pov moment in this ??? there’s been a few in this fic but it’s very deliberate this time and idk how to feel about it.

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language

word count → 3.3k

reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 5

After you and Joe had come close to being caught in his locker room, both of you decided it was best to make a swift exit plan that let you both make it to the parking lot unscathed and unsuspecting. You departed first, quickly turning the corner and leaving the hallway with your bag slung over your shoulder. Joe had in fact kept your panties, taunting you for a minute and motioning for you to attempt to grab them from him. Spooked by the disturbance, you only told him that he now owes you two pairs.

Joe left a few minutes after you, taking a completely different hallway out of the facility and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He asked to see you before you’d split, so the fact that he knew he was going to follow you back to your apartment had seemingly put a bit of pep in his step. You watched him cross the large parking lot, waving at you and smiling in a way that left you shaking your head and laughing. He must have changed clothes before he walked out, adorning a pair of shorts and a black jacket overtop his white hoodie.

The drive was quiet, save for the few times Joe would purposefully begin to ride the ass of your car or honk like you had done something wrong. Funny, you bit back some amusement as you let the horn blare right back at him. He was unlike any guy you had been with in that aspect, his humor was genuine and never had anything to do with making you feel bad about yourself or to poke fun. His jokes never cut deep, which was rare in your few relationships thus far.

Joe parked beside you in your unit’s garage. His Porsche most definitely stood out amongst the line of cars, sleek and spotless as if he had just taken it through the car wash. Everything about him was so clean and prim and proper, it intimidated you now more than ever. A sudden feeling of insecurity washed over you, wondering if he was silently judging you and your life. You couldn’t help gazing down at the steering wheel, thinking endlessly about how much Joe really possessed in athleticism, riches, and looks compared to your ex-boyfriends.

Suddenly his knuckle wrapped against your window, “You got mac ‘n’ cheese up there? Tell me that doesn’t sound so good right now.”

You couldn’t help laughing at him, his so-casual words through the window that you rolled down. He leaned into your car, arms folded so his chin rested on them as he perched and tilted his head to the side. He looked inside of your car now, having never seen it. His legs were so long, you noted once again as you breathed another chuckle at his stature. He merely shook his head, waiting for a response about the food.

“I think I have the little Kraft cups. I might have some of the normal boxes, it might be Velvetta, though,” you watched as he gave you an eyeroll.

“You think one of those cups is gonna sustain me? I’m insulted,” he placed a hand on his heart and finally pulled his head out of the car. He opened the car door for you, motioning for you to step out with an outstretched hand for your bag. “I was practically inhaling those things at eight. You can’t seriously be full off one.”

“Excuse me, Joe. Not all of us are..” you spoke with booming amusement and sarcasm, prepared to give a dramatic reenactment as you approached the elevator. “The one, the only Joe Burrow! Heartthrob NFL quarterback, generous philanthropist, sexiest–”

“Ah okay, I see. Someone’s got jokes,” he interrupted, smiling ear to ear. “Please, don’t stop on my accord. What about me is so sexy?”

As you crossed the threshold and began upward in the elevator, you gave him a teasing smirk and noticed just how pink his cheeks had gotten at your comments. He was still holding your bag, bouncing up and down on his heels and occasionally glancing sidelong at you while you went up. The ride was a comfortable silence, simply peering at each other when the other was not looking in a sort of high school fashion.

Joe discarded his coat as he entered your freshly unlocked apartment, murmuring something about how he was sweating. You watched him curiously, tidying up and discarding some of the random things you and the girls had strewn around the apartment. He hadn’t ever been inside, he’d only picked you up when you went out for drinks. He definitely had no intention of masking his curiosity, he walked along the walls of your living room and noted each photo and piece of decor. He picked up a frame on the TV stand, it was a moment captured on film from your study abroad trip in Australia. His eyes scanned the photograph where you and Sydney were perched on pink beach towels, smiling drunkenly and wearing floppy hats for shade.

“What’s your life like?” He asked you, not a hint of hesitation in his question. “I know you’re a cheerleader, I know you’re going to school to become a teacher. What about all the other stuff, though?”

You paused and hummed, “I feel like my life might bore in comparison to yours.”  

“I highly doubt that, but tell me anyway.”

“I grew up in a pretty rural area in Massachusetts. I have an older brother, his name is Jack. My parents have been divorced for a few years, but they stuck it out until I moved out. For better or for worse,” you told him without maintaining much eye contact. “I’m really not trying to dump all of my childhood trauma on you, I promise.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about? I asked,” Joe said, reassuring you and noting how you fiddled with the strings of the knit throw blanket. “I want to know, I really do.”

His expression was genuine, his eyes serious and fixated solely on you. He had discarded his car keys and phone on a nearby countertop, giving you his full attention as you inhaled deeper and thought seriously about what you wished to tell him. He felt unreal, like something you had dreamed up and manifested into your living room. A part of you thought you should pinch yourself and look again, sure that he would have disappeared into thin air. No, you forced yourself out of the thought and made yourself see that he was just as real and tangible as you are. 

“We grew up pretty poor and just getting by. It was rough, those first few years especially, but we managed and eventually my mom and dad were able to save. They got into real estate later on and then investing, I’m grateful for all of it. I worked hard in school to help with scholarships and stuff so they wouldn’t be totally responsible for putting me through college,” the words flowed without much thought and he nodded, listening intently. “They weren’t happy. I knew it long before anyone mentioned divorce, but I was still pretty wrecked. I’m grateful, though. They gave me a great work ethic, you know just watching them build a better life for our family. I wouldn’t even live here without their help.”

“I can tell you’re a hard worker,” he was assessing you in your entirety. “Are you close with them? Your family, I mean.”

You stilled for a moment, thinking intently about the question. Joe was sitting across from you, elbows braced on his knees as he leaned into the conversation. His gaze was soft, gentle even. He wasn’t looking at you with pity, however. His expression was more of a mixture of understanding and concentration, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing.

“Not so much, no,” you answered. “But the love is still there. I just have a hard time expressing it to my family, I guess. If that makes any sense at all. With my friends, it always just comes so much easier. I’ve just always felt outside myself around my family, like they know nothing about me.”

“How does that make you feel?” 

“It’s just kind of how it's always been, I guess.”

Joe listened to you for ten more minutes, not protesting when you rose from the loveseat and seemed to want to change the subject to something more positive. Following you into the kitchen, he began to look through the cupboards for something to make. It didn’t take him long before finding the Kraft cups, turning around and showing you with an eye roll. He began rattling off the nutrition label, making you raise your phone to him with a hand over your mouth as you captured a short clip of his fully serious assessment.

He continued to sift through the materials of your kitchen, finding an actual box of mac ‘n’ cheese and beginning to look for your pots and pans. You silently extended a hand, letting him take the pot from you and start cooking. You walked over to the fridge, glancing around your options for drinks.

“So I have Celsius, milk, Titos, Capri Suns, and water,” you told him, cringing internally at the selection. 

“What flavor Capri Sun?” He asked, stirring the food in front of him.

“Looks like… strawberry kiwi.”

“Yeah, I’ll take one of those,” he looked over his shoulder at you. 

You both ate in front of the living room television, watching The Hunger Games underneath the throw blanket you had extended to him as soon as you sat down. He took it graciously, eating much faster and going back for a second helping before you’d finished even half of your bowl. You snickered softly, wondering the daily caloric intake of an NFL player and how much Joe had to eat to maintain his figure. 

Once you both finished eating, he followed you into your bathroom with his bag. He took his toothpaste and toothbrush out, the set you assumed was only for practice and games. You both stood in front of the mirror, brushing silently until Joe would make a face in the mirror. He took the lid of the mouthwash you had filled up, knocking it back just as you had. He stifled a laugh while you swished, pulling his phone out and taking a picture of you with your hands on your hips, eyes narrowed at him and mouth full of mouthwash.

Joe’s cold hand slid onto your upper thigh as you settled back into the couch. He pinched softly and you whacked his arm slightly harder, causing both of you to laugh as he threw his hands up in playful defense. You let him lean in as he mouthed the word ‘truce’, only to attack your middle and put you with your back on the couch. He hovered above you, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck and lips.

“Should I go?” Joe asked, looking down at his phone and realizing how late it is. 

“Do you want to go?” You asked him in one breath. 

The only light illuminating his face was from the movie playing in the background. Joe’s pupils were blown, his hair falling forward as he was still above you. His body pressed a fraction of his weight on you, both of your pulses pounding. He let himself think about the question, humming lowly and taking in the visual before him once again.

“I never want to go,” he said, half-joking with a smirk. “You tell me. I have to be at the facility to watch film at eight, I’ll be gone before you wake up. It’ll be like I was never here. ”

Is that what he wants? The question wracked your brain as you sat contemplating how casual this was for him. His flattery sometimes felt so real, like more than foreplay or meaningless flirting. There was always the undertone of what was wrong with you two being tangled up in the same blanket, though. Joe couldn’t bring you on a real date, you would never be able to show anyone the video from the kitchen–why shouldn’t this be casual to him? He likes you, perhaps. But how can you expect him to want to tiptoe around each other’s jobs?

“Okay, yeah,” the words came out more breathy than you intended. “Sounds good to me.”

Joe studied your dimly lit face, “Everything alright?” 

You told yourself not to be that same girl you were at the bar, the one you could only assume he viewed as a psychotic bitch. A part of you was willing yourself to shove down some of those strong feelings for him, giving him a soft smile and nodding. He relaxed a bit, letting you turn in his arms and watch the movie with your back to his chest.

It was only about ten minutes before you heard the sounds of his soft snores, one arm tucked underneath his head and the other firm around your chest. His breathing was deep and steady, occasionally pulling you into him further. After a few minutes, you grabbed your phone off of the coffee table and turned your camera front-facing, making sure the flash was off and snapping a picture to send to your group chat with the girls.

Sydney: Oh. My. GOD.

Sydney: I’m actually throwing up rn what the fuck 

Sydney: LOOK HOW BIG HIS HAND IS

Lena: I’m freaking the fuck out omg

Lena: I’m so jealous

Lena: He’s so 

Sydney: He’s fine as fuck

Y/N: IKR

Y/N: I think I’m obsessed 

Sydney: Girl wbk that

Sydney: Be fucking for real

Y/N: I simply do not think I will be making it to class on Monday

Lena: That’s three days away

Y/N: Ugh Ik

Y/N: Last first day of classes! 

Y/N: I’ll call you guys tomorrow and debrief

Both of them hearted the message, sending their goodnight texts and equally dirty messages about you and Joe sleeping together. You flipped the TV off and let yourself lean into his arms a bit further, inhaling his scent of high end cologne and mint. He held onto you protectively, caging you into his embrace and brushing his nose against your hair. You slowly let yourself drift to the sound of his breaths.

⋆------------⋆

Joe woke up around six, he felt you pressing into him and against him first. His neck was stiff, wishing he’d have made it to your bed last night. He couldn’t recall falling asleep, assuming he had knocked out while you both watched the movie. He inhaled the scent of your shampoo, closing his eyes for a few moments and allowing himself to linger between that sweet spot of sleep and consciousness.

He savored the few moments of domesticity, wondering what it would be like to wake up in bed next to the other. Everything about you was so intoxicating, he had never been much of a risk taker before. He would have never risked bringing you into the locker room if he was in a completely sane state of mind. He thought of you with such desperation and yearning that he simply couldn’t have cared less about what anyone had to say about it.

Joe knew this made him selfish, made him irresponsible, and that was the worst part. He knew and he didn’t give a shit, he couldn’t stay away from you. Not that he had really tried, but he also lacked the desire to. Being around you was bad for him, Joe thought as he watched you sleep soundlessly beside him. You cause him to completely lose control of who he is and yet he cannot seem to stay away. 

Slipping out from behind you without waking you was difficult, but he managed to get out over the back of the couch and readjust the blanket to cover you. Joe walked around, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on whilst also cleaning up a bit and helping with the dishes he helped dirty. He came up with the idea to leave a note, leaving him looking around your kitchen for materials, shaking off his damp hands and pulling his sleeves back down. He found a notepad and pen easily, but stared blankly at the sheet. Is leaving a note too much? He had a hard time reading your attitude towards certain things, he had tried to get you to stay for breakfast and you flat out refused him. Perhaps it was better to adhere to what was agreed on, it would be like he was never there.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Joe sighed and set the pen down. He left quietly after brushing a hand over your head once more, shutting the door softly behind him so as not to wake you up. 

⋆------------⋆

When you rolled over to grab your phone, Joe was already long gone and his spot beside you had now gone cold. Yawning, you sat up and padded to the bathroom to pee and contemplate everything that had gone on during the previous night. At first glance, you assumed Joe had tidied up the strewn pillows on the living room floor and moved your phone to the coffee table. 

Once you made it into the kitchen, you realized he had washed the dishes that had been used and pulled out a sheet of paper. There was nothing written on it, pen sitting idly by as if he planned to write something for you to wake up to. Casual, you reminded yourself. Both of you had agreed on casual. 

The run you went on this morning was particularly long, headphones blaring as you pushed yourself further and further away from your complex. Thoughts of cheerleading and Joe weighed on your mind heavily, his head between your thighs the night before most certainly did not make it any easier for you to focus on controlling your breathing. Casual felt like a punishment, especially in this case. He couldn’t have felt a fraction of how you did, your thoughts occupied constantly with the sight of his unruly hair and large hands on your body. He was making you crazy, the way he touched you was genuinely driving you into insanity. Much less the fact that you risked your spot on the team each time you answered at his beck and call. 

Your phone began to ring, Lena’s caller ID popping up. You answered, sweat coating you like a layer of oil.

“Don’t freak out.”

“Freak out?” I heaved, taking a long sip of water. “Why would I freak out?”

“There’s a picture of you and Joe on Twitter. You can’t see your face at all and you’re at a red light, all you can see is him and some of your hair,” she informed you, cautiously attempting to keep your anxiety at bay. “It’s days old, but it popped up on my timeline just now and it has a few thousand likes.”

She sent you a screenshot, fingers shaking as you opened up your texts and tapped on the picture. It was a photo from the first night you’d gone to get food, a sneaky snapshot at a redlight when your window was half down. Thankfully, only your shoulders and the back of your head was visible under the light that made the color of your hair hard to detect. Joe was looking over at you, smiling with one hand occupied by the half-gone milkshake. 

Feeling like the wind was knocked out of you, you silently copied the image and sent it to Joe. 

“I feel like I should end things with him officially,” was all you said to Lena. “He wants casual and I’m not sure this is worth casual.”

lmk to be added to the taglist!

taglist - @humannoodlesoup @nikkisimps @teasandcrumpets @chmpgnnlace @hummusxx @rivivie @madsblogsstuff @nngkay @raeofsunshine629 @siutforjjmaybank @alternativemadchen @ryiamarie @ohreggieboy @coldheartedmar @obsessed-fan-alert @buckystwilight @dessxoxsworld @manic-pixie-bitch2 @hallecarey1 @heyitskay-21 @joselyn001 @stylesyourmine @toterry @countryday @adventuremood @blu3jeanbaby @sriusun @mikeyspinkcup @kittyhorror777 @riverdalexvixens @hornyforherbert @tomriddlesenchantress @nhlbabes @unsaidjaelinrose @joselyn001 @littlelou22 @harryweeniee

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis and Honey Autumn This or That 🍂

Week Seven: Warm Blankets or Cute Mugs

Summary- 1.9k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You are such a vibrant person that has a love for so many things that Curtis assumes something like a cute mug would make you happy.

Warnings- Dealing with Reader relationship with your ex and how it still effects you in the moment.

A/N- This was a hard emotional one to write but I'm glad I did. Thank you to everyone who is still following along with this series, you all are the best. Happy Reading!

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

You had plain white mugs at your apartment. Simple mugs with no prints on them that for you seemed unusual to Curtis. You like to have color in your life, make it something you were attached to, and these mugs you just weren’t. Curtis always assumed that was because you just picked up whatever was cheapest when you moved to Minnesota and haven’t gotten around to picking up something more your style.  

But shopping one day at the local store picking up some groceries and other odds and ends they needed at the house, he found out how wrong he was. While you two walked down the aisle with the fall pieces catching your attention, you just simply bypassed the entire mug selection with nothing more than a glance at them. Moving swiftly onto the candles. 

“Hold up Honey.” He eased you to a stop, backing the two of you up a few steps to stand in front of the mugs once more. An array of cute pumpkins and ghosts, some colorful mushrooms, gnomes, and a whole selection of cups with fall-themed sayings on them. Curtis plucked one up that he thought you would like, showing it to you. “How about a new mug?” 

You looked at it and gave a shrug, your face so carefully neutral while looking at the cup in his hand. “I don’t need one Curtis.” 

He set it down, looking over them to try and find another one that maybe you would like, even reaching up to grab a Halloween-themed travel mug to see if he could entice you with it. “It’s not about needing one Honey, do you want one.”  

You stared at the mug, like you were possibly going to take it but you turned away from it, walking away without another word. 

It was weird for Curtis, enough so he set the mug down and went after you. Instead of looking anymore, you were heading towards the checkout. Putting up the array of stuff you both put into your cart. “Honey, baby what was that?” Curtis started to bag while you scanned, catching up to you. 

“It’s nothing Curtis, let’s just get this stuff home.” Your demeanor remained off, closed up in a way Curtis hadn’t seen you in ages. You pulled out your credit card, prepared to pay for all of it when Curtis stopped you, slipping his card into the slot first. 

“I got it Honey.” He said softly, unsure of what was going on, but it was obvious you were upset about whatever just happened. 

You retreated further still during the drive home. When arriving back at the house you started taking care of the groceries without saying much of anything and Curtis no matter what he said, couldn’t get you to engage further but for a couple of words. 

By the time the last of it was tucked away from sight, you rubbed at your arm. “I'm gonna head upstairs and lay down for a bit, I feel a headache coming on.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Curtis frowned a bit, reaching out to pause you before you headed upstairs. “Is there something wrong, did something happen at the store?” Did I do something wrong was what he wasn’t saying yet, hoping you would open up a bit because truly he was at a loss as to what happened. 

You smiled at him, one that didn’t reach your eyes but was still there for his benefit. “No Baby… I’m just feeling eh today.” You leaned up to give a quick peck of a kiss but still pulled away. “Why I’m gonna go rest. How about you go out, and see what the guys are up to? I will be sure to message you later if you’re not home.” You said, starting for the stairs. 

Curtis watched you go, your shoulders haunched and you looked withdrawn in your thoughts. There was no chance in hell he was leaving. But he did feel that he had to give you your space, so instead of following you, he settled into his reading chair, plucking up a book and his reading glasses, giving a half-ass attempt to kill time while keeping an eye on the staircase for when you made your way back down, hoping that you would come to talk to him. 

It wasn’t till later did you came back down the stairs, hugging around your middle protectively and stopping at a pause near the bottom step. Curtis snapped his book shut, not bothering to mark his spot, and set it aside. It was quiet in the house, the crackle of the fire he had built in the nearby stove keeping the house warm in the later evening. 

“Come’ere Honey.” Curtis said softly, a hand patting his lap and you shuffled forward to his arms, letting him ease you to straddle him so you could curl up into his chest while his hands rubbed up and down your back. 

You didn’t seem to worry today about being too much, too heavy, if anything you felt small in his hold tonight, your arms tucked in close against him and you cuddled in close. Now he wished he had followed you upstairs but this was something you didn’t want from him before. 

“I’m sorry for earlier Curtis.” You finally said, the sadness in your tone making his chest ache with wanting to fix it. His hands never stopped moving up and down your back, but one did travel down to press against the small of your back and shift you in closer. “I froze up in the store and I let something stupid ruin our day.” 

“Do you wanna tell me about it?” Curtis pressed his mouth to the top of your head while saying this, touching you and embracing you in all the ways he felt he could give you comfort. You sniffled a bit, silence your answer for a few moments. 

“I wanted them Curtis, I loved all of them.” You finally admitted to him, shuffling a bit in his hold till you were tucked into his neck, your anxiety seeming to peak for a moment so Curtis just stayed silent, leaving it open for you to continue when you were ready. “I used to have a whole cupboard full of them, little stupid fun cups that I had collected or were given to me.” Curtis could feel his heart sink, he had a suspicious feeling about what might have happened to your mugs that you must have once cherished and loved, even if now you tried to play them off as stupid.

“Then one day I pissed Jake off, I don’t even remember how, but the asshole decided that for whatever reason I needed to have something taken away I loved. He had always complained about them, that they didn’t fit in with our home and looked tacky. So pretending he was just cleaning up and getting rid of stuff we didn't use, he broke them.” 

“All of them?” Curtis rumbled out in disbelief that anyone would be that much of an asshole to someone. 

You nodded, all the confirmation he needed. “I found the shards in the garbage before he had a chance to throw them out and say he donated them, which I would have still been sad about, but at least they were being given to someone else. No, he ruined them all. When I asked him about it, he said that he didn't think I would want them anymore and they didn't fit our decor anyways.” You finally lifted away from him, looking so sad and small in the moment as you recalled what your asshole abusive ex did and why it still affected you to this day. “When you showed me those cups, how much you wanted me to have one, it scared me. What if I say yes and then the same thing happens again.” You hiccuped, your tears starting and Curtis would have murdered the man if he could get away with it. Instead, he reached up to cup your face and make you focus on him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m like this over cups, it’s really stupid of me I know.” you tried pulling away, to hide the tears that you were ashamed of but Curtis now held fast, refusing to let you go and suffer with this by yourself. 

“Honey Girl, please look at me and breathe in with me.” He said gently, exaggerating his inhales and exhales so you could follow along till the tears started to slow and you started to relax with him again. “Jake was an absolutely abusive piece of shit and you Honey are still coping with what he did to you.” His thumb brushed across your wet cheek, swiping away some of those tears caught in your lashes. “I’m not Jake, I can promise you with everything I have in my heart that I would never ever put you through that. I will never take something away from you to punish you, break your stuff, or make you scared that your treasured items are not safe with me. I swear to you baby I won't try to hurt you because we might get mad or frustrated with each other. I couldn’t do that to you. I can’t fathom trying to hurt you like that.” 

You nodded, using the sleeve of your sweater to rub against your eyes. “I know Curtis, you’re not an asshole like he is. Upstairs I was literally telling myself to stop this, stop feeling this way, to stop thinking like he still is a part of my life.” 

“And did that work?” Curtis soothed his hand up and down your arms, wanting to tuck you in close but you had all these feelings to work out and sensed that you were trying to pick through them, in your own way and at your own pace. 

“I finally came down to see you.” You plucked at his chain, twirling the pendant in your fingers and rubbing your thumb over the medallion. “Hope you wouldn’t think I was being ridiculous. Are you upset?” 

Curtis sighed, in truth he was upset. Not at you, but at the things that had been done to you that still made you feel this way with him. “Not at you Honey, not ever for something you are trying to heal from. I’m upset that this happened to you, that you once had someone in your life who felt he could treat you this way.” He said honestly. “I’m frustrated that I can’t make it all better for you. But that takes time and I can be a patient man when I want to be.” He waited for your answer, hoping that it gave you the closure you needed to end the day better. He was rewarded with a little smile and nod, you letting his necklace rest once more against his chest as if your anxiety finally eased up. 

“Thank you Curtis for letting me talk about these things.” 

“I want you to tell me everything when you’re ready.” 

It was a few weeks later, Curtis happened to notice you making a mug of tea in a cute little ghost cup, something he had never seen before. You were smiling softly to yourself as you went through all the steps it took for you to make your perfect cup of tea, blissful in your own little world at the moment. Curtis didn’t say anything about it, but as he passed you, he paused long enough to kiss the crown of your head in a safe loving gesture.

[theredengineapologist]

From the ttte movies you seen, whats your fav?

✨THE GREAT RACE✨

The Great Race is THE BEST ONE! I may not have seen most of the other movies yet, but I'm very sure NOTHING is ever gonna beat this movie for me.

You're telling me they made a Thomas movie centered around what is basically a Train Pageant (tm) AND they made it a MUSICAL!!??? Hell yeah! Sign me up!

But then you actually get in to the movie and it gets even better.

EVERY SONG IS A BOP! EVERY! 👏 SINGLE! 👏ONE! 👏 THERE WAS NOT A SINGLE MISS IN THIS MOVIE! I don't know what they were on, but they were pumping out JAM after JAM!

Secondly, I think the Great Railway Show was a great way to introduce more foreign engines into the show in a way that made sense. Pity that we didn't really get to see much of them. But I also feel like we didn't really need to. I mainly just liked that we got to SEE them.

One of the things I LOVE about Brenner Era CGI Thomas is how the world of Sodor feels so much bigger. In the model series I get this sense that the Island of Sodor is this quaint little English countryside island where nothing much happens, and the engine's shenanigans are the most interesting things to happen in day-to-day life. Whereas I feel like in Brenner Era CGI Thomas, the world feels much grander. Still very much an English countryside island. But the island itself feels much bigger. The engines and the people living on it feel much busier. And in some ways I would say the cast itself feels more diverse once they gave the characters unique voices. I'm a sucker for shows that allow their characters to speak in different dialects, and giving Duck his West Country accent and the narrow gauge engines Welsch accents honestly endeared them to me more.

Anyway, main point I'm trying to get at is that the introduction of The Great Railway Show helped to expand the Thomas universe and show the rest of the world interacting with Sodor and vice-versa, even if only for a short period of time. It adds to the grandness of the world.

I also really like Thomas's arc in this movie. With how often he gets picked on for being a "little engine" over the course of the series, it's no wonder the guy's a little self conscious. If the narrator called me "short and stumpy" three times in a row I'd be pretty self-conscious too lol. But jokes aside, I did like seeing Thomas have conflict with this part of his identity. His verses in "You Can Only Be You" really made me feel for him, and I loved being able to see him finally come around at the end.

And of course, we can't talk about The Great Race without mentioning

HOW PRETTY JAMES'S DECORATIVE PAINTWORK IS!!!

LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT MY PRETTY BOY! GAZE UPON HIS BEAUTY AND HIS SPLENDIDNESS!!!

And you know what? I'm gonna say it. James deserved to win Best Decorated Engine. Sorry not sorry RAJIV! But they don't call me the Red Engine Apologist for nothing! My pookie deserved to win!

One of these days I've got to do humanized versions of James's and Emily's looks from this movie. I can see it very clearly in my head but I also want to, um, draw other characters HAHAHAHA

Anyway, TLDR, The Great Race was an amazing movie with a killer soundtrack, great story, and a concept that appeals to ME SPECIFICALLY. I also genuinely think it would adapt very well into a stage musical (similar in visual style to the Spongebob musical). I have a clear vision in my head for what it would look like but unfortunately I don't have the money nor resources to make it a reality so it would just stay in my head. But just know that every time I watch this movie I am actively thinking about how I would hypothetically adapt this to the stage.

I''ve spent WAY too much time rambling about The Great Race but yeah, there's your answer.

Also if you're curious, here's every Thomas movie I've watched so far ranked from favorite to least favorite.

The Great Race (obviously)

Sodor's Legend of the Lost Treasure (Thomas had a great arc in this one, "Never Overlook a Little Engine" was fun, and visuals are spectacular. Solid movie but it can't beat the campiness of The Great Race)

The Adventure Begins (Solid movie. The other two are just more fun imo)

Tale of the Brave (It was a good movie and I probably would have appreciated it more if I watched it in High Quality. But unfortunately I can't stand Kerry Shale James and so I chose to watch a grainy upload on YouTube instead.)

Journey Beyond Sodor (I'm sorry to my one mutual (you know who you are) who said this was their favorite movie. But unfortunately, in my opinion, the songs do not slap as hard as in The Great Race)

[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia (Pt. 1)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Riley travels to Cordonia, but what will await her there?

Word Count: 1.2k

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

After packing her bags and leaving her New York apartment behind, Riley found herself on a plane with Maxwell and Drake. She gazed in awe at the cream-coloured leather seats, dark oak tables, and a complete minibar with beverages she could only have dreamed of consuming in her lifetime. It was clear that she had underestimated just how lavish their lives were back home. 

“Say ‘goodbye’ to New York and ‘hello’ to Cordonia!” Maxwell exclaimed, his arms stretched out wide in front of him and still as eager as ever. 

It turned out that not only was he Liam’s fairy godmother on his bachelor party night, but he had now undertaken the new position of Riley’s fairy godmother on her way to Cordonia. He felt very satisfied with the good he was spreading in their lives. Better this than to cause more mischief and mayhem, as Bertrand would put it.

Riley leaned back in her chair, hugging herself tighter with her leather jacket around her. She was dressed in a magenta blouse and black jeans, yet she was slightly shivering. She wasn’t even all that sure if it was because of the air conditioning cranked up high or because of her nervous but excited energy. 

She was surprised by her spontaneity at that moment and still couldn't process where she was. “I can’t believe this is actually happening…”

Riley knew it was a risky decision to choose. She didn’t know what the future held in Cordonia or what her relationship with Liam would unfold into. But she knew better that to never have tried for something she truly wanted was to regret it for the rest of her life.

“Believe it. We’ll be landing soon, ready or not. And if you’re not ready, those ladies at court are going to eat you alive,” Drake responded, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Metaphorically speaking, anyway. But Drake had seen things pretty close to it. In front of other members of the court, noble ladies dished out compliments and gave out diplomatic answers to every question like it was second nature. Being close to Liam showed him the other side of them which involved a lot more name-calling, sabotaging, two-faced conversations, and downright dragging others’ self-esteem across the cold ground.

It was something that rubbed him the wrong way whenever he got an occasional glimpse of it. It was just a constant reminder to him that no one at court could ever really be trusted. If Riley was gonna stick around, she might as well know the ropes as early as she could. 

Maxwell knew he was being a Debbie downer again. Or as little Maxwell liked to put his own little twist on it when he was six-years-old, a “Drakey downer.” Maxwell shushed him, putting his finger up to his lip. “Yeesh, don’t scare her, Drake. You okay, Riley?”

“Honestly… I’m terrified,” Riley admitted, suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. “I met you all just last night and suddenly… I’m uprooting my whole life for a competition in a country halfway across the world. I feel like I’m a little over my head for doing this.”

Drake scowled, scoffing as if he almost saw her answer coming. It was exactly the point he kept bringing up to Maxwell when he said Riley would be joining them. “I knew it. She’s not gonna last a week. It’s a waste of time bringing her if she’s not even sure of herself being here.”

“I don’t get why you’re being so grim about this,” Riley muttered, frowning as she looked Drake in the eye. “Is it really as bad as you say it is?”

Seeing the genuinely hurt look on her face, Drake took a second to breathe and rethink his sudden hostility towards her. It wasn’t anything personal. He just knew this kind of risky decision-making only ended in disaster for people. 

Mostly, he didn’t want it to negatively affect Liam. He knew Liam hesitated to talk about his feelings in front of others, but Drake could always see the truth in his eyes. No way in hell was he going to let anything hurt him. 

Shaking his head, Drake sighed. “Look, no offense, but I’ve seen girls like you come and go. It never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam, not for the royal family.”

Maxwell had only met Riley the night before but besides Liam, he was quite possibly her only advocate for her time in Cordonia. He didn’t even want to think about how Bertrand was going to react knowing he had technically plucked a random girl from New York to compete in being the next queen of their kingdom. 

In a protective manner, Maxwell frowned and retorted, “Riley’s not some crown-chaser. She and Liam have something real. I saw it last night with my own two eyes. And if they don’t believe it, you can personally bring me to the eye doctor to get my 20/20 vision rechecked. Everyone knows that’s just one of my amazing assets.”

“Drake… I’m different from those girls. Liam being a prince doesn’t matter at all to me,” Riley softly said.

The boy she learned to love that one special night was just Liam to her. She knew the title and his responsibility to Cordonia was a large part of his life, but she knew that she would have fallen in love with Liam regardless of what his title was. 

Pointing an ironic finger at her, Drake leaned back in his seat and remarked, “That’s exactly the kind of naive thinking that’s going to land you in trouble here.”

Just then, the pilot announced the plane’s descent. Sliding open the window for a brighter view of outside, Maxwell peered out. He knew it was something that Riley would find fascinating and hopefully, it would calm her slight nerves for her big journey ahead. A little boost for her spirits. 

“Hey, look! You can see Cordonia out the window! Riley, you won’t want to miss this!” Maxwell said, gesturing her over to join him by the window. 

Making her way towards Maxwell’s spot, Riley craned her head to get a better look of the scenery. She gasped in wonder, taking note of the various shades of blue and turquoise in the ocean surrounding the country. The beige and tan stone buildings with roofs of orange and sandy colours immediately caught her eye. There was an expansive wealth of healthy forests with their dark green foliage. She could even see the large white and gold glamour of the royal palace’s architecture from where the airplane hovered over. 

“That’s Cordonia? It’s like something out of a fairy tale!” Riley exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with even more enthusiasm by every new sight she saw. “The sparkling ocean, the swaying trees—”

“If you burst into song, I’m jumping out of the plane,” Drake interrupted her, although he was a little relieved to see that any trace of her nervousness faded away. 

“I’m just saying it’s beautiful,” Riley commented, her mouth still slightly agape and her eyes fixated on the sights below. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Maxwell agreed, before turning to observe her. It was exactly what she needed to get excited over her new start. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Riley answered with a grin, feeling like she could handle anything thrown in her way.

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: @kingliam2019 @princess-geek @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @tessa-liam

[popculturebuffet]

Since it was fun doing Cartoon Network, let's try another network of shows. You already talked about The Hub/Discovery Family original cartoons on another ask, so gonna try Nickelodeon original cartoons next (split up by era). Who is your favorite character from each of the Nicktoons from the first half of the 90s from the shows you've seen like: Doug, Rugrats 1991, The Ren & Stimpy Show, Rocko's Modern Life, Aaahh Real Monsters, Hey Arnold, and KaBlam?

LIke last time (Which wasn't commented on) I'll also give my general thoughts but I was hoping this would happen. Doug: Doug himself, a relatable likeable guy and one of Billy West's breakout roles. Though Roger is a close second as while he's an ass, he's one of the better bully characters out there. The show itself was nice, calming and pretty decent all things considered, a grounded slice of life show that paved the way for others. IT's outclassed by some later ones to be sure, but it's still pretty neat. Rugrats: Chucky. He was this when I was a kid, he still is now. I love this neurotic little mess. The show as a whole was pretty great.. I went through a phase of not liking it and while I still like most other nicktoons on this block better, I can't deny Rugrats staying power, classic characters or all time banger episodes. The Movies are also pretty good and something we may be covering at some point. The Ren and Stimpy Show: Not sure if I have a faviorite here. As for the show I didn't really watch it much as a kid or as an adult: I can admire it's craft, and the gag from sven hoek "BUT FIRST, BUT FIRST, BUT FIIIIRRRSSST I"m gonna take a whiz! Don't you go anywhere", was a thing with me and my friend mars back in the day but I just never was that attached. Which is probably good as John K is a monster, but the rest of his crew did a good job as was the voice acting. It was just never really for me.

Rocko's Modern Life: Rocko Himself. Yes once again i'm picking the main character though out of the side cast, you all know who my boy is

But Rocko is such a relatable shy little guy he's hard not to love. Though again Wild Pig will always be goat too so they can share it I suppose. Point is Rocko is the best: a relatable show that hits for both adults and kids. As a Kid I watched it but wasn't really in love with it. As a young adult on the n, this thing became my religion and remains one of my faviorite nicktoons. A true classic with humor, relatablity and a whole lotta 90's nostalgia while still being mostly relevant. Watch this one if you haven't. Aaaah Real Monsters: Hard to say as it's been too long. I like Ickis design but all the design work here is awesome. The show itself is one worth revisiting, with great designs and a truly unique style. Wish I had more to say about it as I don't think Kid me was super on board.

Hey Arnold: Honestly? Harold. I thought this would be hard as the cast for Hey Arnold is truly one of the best in animation history, no exageration the amount of spotlight episodes means just about everyone's fleshed out. But Harold's tend to stick out the most with his Kitten Hostage Situation, Bar Mitzfah and especailly his job with Mr Green being some of the series best episodes. The kid was the right mix of obnoxious jerk and heart of gold. Also before we move on can we just.. appricate that the show has an episode where a child basically kidnaps a kitten, has the police called.. and he's STILL the most sympathetic one in the room next to the kitten's owner? It's a tesitament to the show's power: Hey Arnold is a charming, wonderful little show, one of the best slice of life shows period. Part of the reason doug isn't as good as it was in it's heyday.. is it made room for shows like Hey Arnold to exist. A truly wonderful show that gave depth to just about every damn character it had over time, had a lot of heart, charm and creativity. It's honestly one of the best cartoons period and I stand by that, also having a knack for atmsophere along with it's wonderful cast and shocking maturity (Seriously I had no idead Miriam was an alcholic as a kid or Mr Simmons was gay and had a homophobic mom but both are handled well for the time). True classic.

KaBlam: Character wise let's go by short: June (If Narrowly), The Chief (Tends to get the best lines and is enjoyably Da Chief type character boiled down to it's most hliaroius form), Sniz, Prometheus, Loopy Herself, Race Rabbit, and Tommy. As for the show I did a whole ass retrospective, but in short, it's fantastic. Not the biggest fan of prometheus and bob, but the rest of the recurring segments are all bangers on some level, though P and B is still gorgeously animated, it's simply not for me. It's a fantastic show, animation showcase and time capsule and well worth your time.

[fansblogarchive]

Old Moons, New Friends

Hello my fellow fans, coming back at you with a new outlook on the world! Warning, I might start to get a little moody and out there with my writing style this time, but hey, I was feeling a little different lately! I'm sure I'll get some haters to call me out on it! Seriously, I never got where people with such negative attitudes come from. How do they see things? Do they open their eyes every morning, stare at the ceiling, and automatically think 'Ergh, everyone hates me', and go on about their day? Why would you want to live like that? Well if that's what they tell themselves they're gonna end up believing it. The perspective we view our world from changes everything. Depending on if you're gazing through the eye strain-inducing lit screen of a laptop or through the tiny lens of a telescope makes a big difference. As for me, well, it's no secret that Inanimate Insanity is the biggest part of my life. Frankly, you could call me obsessed and I couldn't deny it. Yet I never thought my borderline depressing infatuation with the series would become... well, you know, actually depressing. As I said, the show's the biggest thing in my life, but ironically, now that I'm here, it's so big with its numerous crazy happenstances and quirky inhabitants, it's easy to go unnoticed, or, well, no need to sugarcoat it, it's easy to be intentionally ignored. It got me thinking, how does it feel to accomplish landing on the moon? Granted, I don't really have to imagine since I've been to Mars for crying out loud, but hey, that only strengthens my point. That place didn't really capture my attention; I was busy being frustrated with my awful data service. Yeah, with my little blog "hiatuses" you know how much my service sucks, right, dear readers? But anyway, honestly, after the initial shock dies down, it must be pretty underwhelming, the moon. Like, whoo, you're standing on some celestial body where gravitational influence creates ocean tides. Big whoop. Gee, I'm starting to sound like Test Tube... hmph, funny, speaking of influences. I feel a lot happier now, knowing there's someone here who I don't have to worry will judge me and my ridiculously drawn-out and trivial observations. Test Tube a lot of the time is just saying stuff no one else seems to care about, too. But bless her, she couldn't care less if anyone else cared. She doesn't really let anything get her down, she just enjoys absorbing the world around her for what it is. I guess every place has a silver lining if you look hard enough, after all, Mars gave me that egg, didn't it? I know Test Tube really loves the moon, observing it from afar and adoring every little detail from its phases to its atomic radius. I hope for her sake, she never gets there. Now I turn the tables to you, readers. Has your opinion on something ever completely changed over time, as your perspective got a chance to widen? Email me your responses, you can find my address through the forum (hey, a little plug for that part of the site can't hurt!)

[how-masterful]

31 FICS OF FRIGHT

DAY 1- THE LADDER OF LUCK

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Prompt: Superstition

Notes: Welcome to the first chapter of My Halloween mini fic series! This year i’ve decided to challenge myself and write 30 randomly generated mini fics with the five main Masters, ending with a remaster on the 31st. These will be daily slice of life style rather than my usual essays fics with a full story. Think of them as little tricks and treats for the most wonderful time of the year! Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings: None

“I’m not superstitious, Master. Why should I be?”

The Master sent you a disapproving look from the top of the wheeled ladder you’d just passed under. He leant against the top shelf, one hand on his hip, the other leaning on the tall bookcase in the east corner of the library. He couldn’t believe it- you’d just waltzed straight under him, completely ignoring the most basic, fundamental wives tale there is.

“Because!” he argued, placing his hardback in its gap upon the shelf with a frown.

“You humans always are! With good reason, I should add.”

You rolled your eyes. He always was haplessly dramatic with the smallest things. It was something you usually adored about him. Except for times like this.

“It's just a bunch of, y’know, ‘Hocus Pocus’. Like manifesting destiny, you just start looking for patterns”.

You pulled another book from the shelf and began to flick through the pages. Above your head you heard the smooth glide of the ladder, and looked up to see the Master had pulled himself along the bookcase- both he and the ladder now looming before you. You closed the book, tucking it within the crook of your arm.

“Having fun up there?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

You scoffed, which soon turned into a small laugh. You leant against the bookcase, sending the Master an exasperated smile.

“You break a mirror; they say it's bad luck. Supposedly. But in reality, you’re just looking for something spooky to place the blame on when things go wrong.”

Turning away from the Master, you continued to walk down the lengthy corridor of books. The sound of the ladder followed, the Master close behind you, his shadow hitting the floor under the warm lights that flanked each shelf.

“Oh no, I lost my job. Must have been the mirror. God damn bloody Mary.”

“Now she was a RIGHT piece of work.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning around to glare up at the Master. You’d only just noticed he’d put on his glasses. He should wear them more often, you thought.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“The historical name dropping. You and the doctor always do it.”

The Master smirked, returning to his casual position of leaning against the top shelf.

“Y’know. I never suspected you to be a sceptic.”

“And why is that?”

“I thought you’d know better.”

You gaped up at the Timelord in offense. The Master braced himself against the edges of the ladder and slid down the golden rungs, before landing on the floor at your side.

“Now what on earth are YOU on about?”

The Masters arm found its way around your middle, moving to guide you towards the end of the row.

“Do you remember the story I told you of my dealings with Azal?”

You gave a small nod. You loved that story. Apart from the Master almost dying. But that was a usual part of his stories.

“Well, that whole thing made me want to dig deeper. Plus, I had a lot of time to myself in prison. So I started researching more into ancient myths, wives tales, that sort of thing. And y’know what I found out?”

“It's all bullshit?”

“It's all science!”

 At that, you paused, finally at the end of the row. You send the Master an incredulous expression. He looked awfully proud of himself.

“Azal was an alien, dearest. Most of your earthly supernatural stories come from the likes of me landing on your sad, little old planet and making our mark.”

“But that doesn't explain how my palms being itchy means i'm gonna have good luck.”

“If you stopped interrupting, maybe I could tell you.”

You gave the Master a well meaning scowl as you moved to sit upon the plush sofa, sitting cross legged in view of the roaring fire.

The Master sat opposite, elegantly crossing his ankles as he lounged against the arm.

“Most superstitions come from probability fields, leftover energy. Like how you and I are drenched in artron energy from the time vortex.”

You pondered, tilting your head. “Serious?”

“As the plague, love. When that black cat crosses your path and you trip over a brick, it's because that cat's ancestors were probably the pets of some very unlucky aliens. Friday the 13th? Probably the day a race lost an army. It's a hereditary thing.”

You were so engrossed in the Masters explanation, you hadn't even noticed the steaming mug of hot chocolate that had appeared upon the table, sitting neatly upon a coaster. Piled high with whipped cream, covered in sprinkles and chocolate flakes, with a cluster of marshmallows neatly sat against the rim. The TARDIS liked to surprise you both. You’d yet to thank her fully.

“So yeah, superstitions are very much real.”

“I’m still not convinced, Master”

You eagerly uncrossed your legs, sitting up to grasp hold of the mug. You clutched the steaming vessel and suddenly recoiled from the heat, the mug crashing out of your hands and onto the ground below. The ceramic shattered, sending the hot drink soaking into the carpet, the marshmallows and sprinkles haphazardly sprawled on top of the melting cream in the shape of a wonky frown.

You looked at the Master for support, but couldn't find any. He simply watched in amusement, the timelord casually grasping his own drink, mug held tight in hand.

He took a hearty sip and licked the foam from the corner of his mouth.

“Mmm. Shouldn't have walked under that ladder.”

[quietbluejay]

Ahriman Exile Reread 2

First, let's hear from Past Bluejay

thank you for your words of wisdom, past bluejay. Now, onwards with the reread Wait, I forgot to warn, spoilers up to Ahriman: Eternal, not a lot but I do reference a big twist as well as some characters' fates

part 2 time astraeos and his bros are arguing space marine style

yes truly the best way e_e ok so carmenta gave them all bionic eyes to replace the ones that got eaten carmenta continues to be the best "salvation demands loyalty"

because, as terrible as they can be you don't want to see what they will become without the oaths "oaths did not require trust, that was a truth the imperium had taught him" they all know this will end badly but the only other option is to let go of the thing they're clinging to and meanwhile ahriman is crashing after the combat/magic high and is feeling guilty okay straight up suicide ideation see what i mean, he needs to be transplanted into an entirely different universe and put in horse plinko there failing that, i still think a sun lamp and cat would help time for ahriman to spend time with tolbek's rubricae i'm sure this will help cheer him up

yeahhhh

ow that hurts

"they will never be my slaves" thats not gonna last long thidias and kadin (the other two space marines, astraeos' brothers) are still arguing choked voice im fine

;-; ok an aside but i do love the environment French sets up everything is set in an everlasting gloom, all there is is metal and wires (and human flesh) (and frost) it is an existence divorced from the light of the sun and the stars and anything natural Oh yeah so Maroth summoned a daemon into Cadars body (another one of astraeos brothers) Astraeos: I can save him…

Ahriman, having rubric flashbacks: hey that’s hell you’re walking into Time for Ahriman and Carmenta to have a chat about her mind linking with her ship and how dangerous it is Ahriman: I’m not gonna judge you tho I’m not that much of a hypocrite The whole conversation is great, I just don't have anything more to say about it than that!

and we're at trust again Carmenta wanting to trust ahriman time for ahriman to go into his mind palace the only place in this story world with light and natural things

time for ahriman to teach astraeos the deeper magical mysteries man warp juice really is a drug, it's not just ahriman astraeos has the same reaction ahriman: it's all my faullltttt

this, too, is overwhelming pride assuming you are the worst ever and responsible for everything, is just as much pride as assuming you are the best to believe that you are alone the architect of everything it's a terrible defence against the thought that maybe you couldn't have done anything at all ahriman is trapped in the "im the worst/im the best" cycle

it's a hard thing to accept because it means you didn't have the control you thought you did over the situation

gee i wonder what might be a theme like half the cast gets bad feelings abot this the entire psychic part of the cast do they stop? no lol Ahriman answer questions or draw 20 lol this book in a nutshell:

mysterious voice in ahriman's head: you don't need your sword

oh hey the oracle is an old friend used to be a comrade now is like 100 floating eyes ahriman: i have questions menkaura: everyone does ahriman, internally: phew, you know what, my life may suck but at least im not this guy

literally EVERYONE calls ahriman out

to be honest, it's why i was basically done with the series (before the third book even) because it was just the same thing over and over again the supporting cast was what kept me but like, essentially ahriman's character arc is done in book 1 this is what i mean when i say i don't think ahriman can be fixed, i think even if there was irrefutable proof that he'd been puppeted by tzeentch, he would just refuse to see it though he's not quite there yet at this point i think he could probably have been fixed in this book unfortunately this is wh40k and this is his negative character arc "ask yourself what you truly wish to know: the truth, or the lie that forgives you your choices?" man

okay, hear me out how to fix ahriman and save astraeos, carmenta, and astraeos' bros: warp storm causes them to time travel a lot further than intended i kind of want to throw them at a potential blorbo (next book i might be reading) but idk enough about him yet to see if he's actually valid, i have a few ideas for him (it's tax evasion pirate man, the meme the legend, the guy named after one of the best great lakes) okay I'm memeing here but astraeos thinks about ahriman's eyes in order to calm down because he's getting magic headaches man everyone thinks about ahriman's eyes so much

ahriman: so who is hunting me menkaura: lol the list of who isn't is shorter menkaura: so why didn't you let yourself die ahriman: i still allow myself to hope rare mental health W for ahriman unfortunately it's…. note from future bluejay: past bluejay did not finish this thought. I am consumed with curiosity

anyways time for ahriman to actually explain what's going on

so no one told you life was gonna be this wayyy lmaoo his method is to project his memories into their minds man will do literally anything to avoid explaining with his words

oh, ouch, the last thing Magnus said to him before banishing him was "You are the best of my sons, you always were" moment of silence after the memory ends where everyone is trying to mentally process this, ahriman smiles weakly man, he'd be so great in another setting, unfortunately he's here

hope disguised as arrogance ahriman you are KILLING ME with your lack of critical thinking skills and inability to apply lessons you previously learned wails and grabs hair repeated eye motifs specifically removing eyes ….i've connected the dots

groans oh no not again i am deeply tired of human fat burning owo kadin pov

in the end ahriman just jumps from one type of pride to another with no stops in between to learn humility but also i mean it's hard when there are forces (tzeentch) that are actively (tzeentch) poking him into this shape honestly, i am starting to get a bit fed up with him, though it's idw optimus but less rage inducing (because it's better writing lol) and i get that it's part of the point of the setting but there's only so much i can take of this cycle tbh i knew i'd hit this point eventually, it's just making it frustrating at times to read his POV mainly because I know what's coming lol ahriman and kadin think the same thing about astraeos

at least astraeos does get out of the cycle eventually oh boy horror movie time in the dark meanwhile, ahriman summons a daemon with astraeos' help daemon is fun takes the form of his dead brother and then goes through how he died

sassy

rip ahriman, got outplayed ah, tzeentchians so, Amon knew he was going to summon this daemon, so he summoned it first and put a binding on it so it would kill Ahriman when he summoned it thidias dies a hero so he won't become a villain ;-; Carmenta once again saves the day and everyone* *except Thidias and also arguably Kadin who got double possessed

interesting ahriman's experience with the dark mechanicum is that they tend to lose their emotions and humanity vs carmenta who is becoming more emotional the longer she mind melds with her ship more light motifs so, astraeos wants answer about why his brothers died, or worse than died ahriman: i made a mistake astraeos: just one? owo a hint astraeos' chapter gets special darkvision powers now which primarch could be their founder….. next up ahriman: let's steal ourselves a navigator

I return to Ahriman and hey it’s Iobel my beloved This is wild

And also setup for the astraeos thing

And now cut to Astraeos going “this is a bad idea” Note he and Ahriman are now wearing blue armour, this may be relevant if I ever do time travel fic

Really getting Star Wars vibes from this The -hahahaha - the rebel ship going dark and waiting for the imperials to board and investigate so they can retrieve/kidnap someone on board Ahriman has been way out of it enough for the inquisition to pop up and him to have no clue who they are Okay we know Astraeos eyes are green Didn’t expect that

Iobel!

Ahriman once again passes out And gets badly injured Not in that order If I had a nickel for every time Ahriman has passed out in a novel, I’d have…probably at least 50c? Time for time shenanigans

Man everyone gets poetic about ahriman's eyes. I like Silvanus (kidnapped navigator) well enough but I don't have super strong feelings about him.

Who are you and what did you do with Ahriman

...

Yeah. I want to strangle you a bit lol In the end it is his untempered virtues that note from future bluejay: I left this sentence unfinished WHERE WAS I GOING WITH IT??? Meanwhile Carmenta panics

Annnd that’s when she decides to betray Ahriman

Ahriman is Tired Also he’s a bird furry Classic tzeentchian Annnd Amon decides to reward Carmenta by killing her Rip

The repeated theme of either becoming monstrous or dying

Ayyy she’s alive RIP Silvanus for finding her this has not been his day his week, his month or even his year Also I misremembered! Ahriman was not in fact chained to the ceiling naked he gets to wear a tunic So, amon's plan is to kill all the remaining thousand sons with the rubric

To be continued...

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Greetings everyone! So uhm. its been a while since my last liveblog post. there have been some circumstances that made me really not wanna read, but now they have passed and I have risen from the ashes like a glorious phoenix and I can resume my divine mission of complaining about this mediocre-at-best book series to an audience of as many as 60 people if you can believe it. Also we're back to the style of post where I just jot down all my thoughts bullet-point style because my life is in shambles

Anyway, last time we had a chapter where literally nothing happened except for Lucien showing up at the very end, so lets see what he does in this chapter 47

I still cant believe its been only two months since Feyre started permanently living at the night court and forgiving Rhysand for torturing her, its taken me longer to forgive people at my school who mildly annoyed me. Also wait, Feyre was UTM for three months, shes spent more time consecutively being tortured by Rhysand than consecutively having a good time with him wth

Feyre stop fuckin jacking the bat boys off challenge (impossible!!)

Ive seen this part where Feyre talks about the bat boys being so much stronger than Lucien in english where shes like "Lucien may have trained to be a warrior, but Cassian, Azriel and Rhys were Warriors" like oh fuck, we gotta get out of here!! those guys are Proper Nouns!! But in the german version, this line is just "Lucien may have trained to become a warrior, but Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand were warriors" because nouns are always capitalized in german and not just when theyre Super Epic and Cool so you cant do that thing that english books do with proper nouns, and Idk i think thats pretty interesting

Something about Feyre being all like "theyre hunting me, its like Im their prey" really pisses me off, I think its because it could be cool and thematically relevant but instead its just kindof nothing

Speaking of which, Lucien coming ip to her and saying "We've been hunting for you" is so forced, it reminds me of how Tamlin would say these weird objectifying things to Feyre alllll the way at the start of ACOMAF even though hes never said shit like that before, except this is way worse because who on earth would say it like that?? hello?? If you were looking for someone who went missing, you'd say like, we've been searching for you or we've been looking for you, not we've been hunting for you thats just insane

HUH?? which high lord gave her the ability to slow down time??? Thats so overpowered and I dont remember anyone ever talking about it

Oh, of course they cant just be afraid of Feyre, they have to be afraid of Rhysand who just showed up

Did this motherfucker really take the time to change his outfit just make his dramatic entrance just a little more dramatic? Honestly, if it was any other guy I would think thats so iconic, but because its Rhysand just wearing his fucking black tunic again I just want him to explode

"Has your mother, the Lady of the Autumn Court, not taught you that you should listen to a lady?" why he have to say that Lucien's mom is the Lady of the Autumn Court thats so awkward. Also yeah, it sounds more awkward translated from german to english because they use both 'Lady' and 'Dame' (which is german for lady) in the same sentence, but its still just a very bad line

This is actually kind of interesting because Im guessing Lucien called Rhys a dirty son of a bitch in the original and then he growled because its like, oh Lucien insulted his lovely mother that he loves soooo much, but its been translated here as 'Hurensohn' (lit. 'whore's son') so it gains this additional layer where Lucien is not just insulting his mom also using a word that's like a trigger for him which makes it much more impactful imo. good job, Ms. Ernst

The fact that Feyre is getting on Lucien's case for siding with Gamlin over her is mighty ironic when you consider whats gonna happen in acosf, but also Lucien right now and the IC in acosf are making the same choice of listening to their close friend of several centuries over his gf that theyve known for like a year. Like, yeah, obviously its super shitty in both cases but I do get why they did it. And thats not even factoring in the political power Tamlin and Rhys have over their friends, like, it really doesnt matter if you "dont enforce rank" because youre the super special ones who were literally chosen by god to rule, you have an inherent authority over the people around you

This is all so frustrating because I do sympathize with Feyre for feeling abandoned by Lucien because that is essentially what he did, but I really dont like how hes portrayed as being unambigiously in the wrong for caring more about politics or himself than Feyre when its like, first of all, politics impact sooooo many people of course making sure that the SC at leats looks stable from the outside is more important than Feyre's mental health, and second of all, Feyre also pretty much only cares about herself. Which is her right btw, she has been very traumatized, she should be prioritizing herself for a while now, i just dont like the way the narrative frames this whole thing

Honestly, Feyre's kinda slaying rn. Her with her big spooky bat wings being all like "when youve been trapped in the darkness for so long it becomes your best friend" is kinda cool, idc

Okay, nevermind, she slayed for exactly one line and then she was nearly choking on Tamlin's name "because of what Rhysand did to him" girlie that was centuries ago why are you making this about him when he was being abusive two months ago* *i dont think he was actually being abuse but thats the framing of the narrative so im just going with it

I would usually properly translate this line but my brain isnt up to it at the moment, but its onpage 528 and I think you'll know which one I mean if you look at it, but I dont really understand Feyre being like "if I had stayed at the spring court and just given myself over to my own misery, I wouldve learned to take pleasure in other people's pain" Is it trying to justify Feyre being needlessly cruel by implying that it was inevitable and that her UTM trauma would've made her become like this no matter what? First of all, you cant say that for sure though and second of all, wowweweee Sarah Janett Maas knows soooooo much about mental health, she should become a psychiatrist, no degree necessary

"You are dead. You and your entire damned court." ohhhhhh so THATS why they call him death incarnate. Someone bring him back to life so no one ever calls him that again

??? Feyre was talking about how weird she felt about her lack of feeling when she was speaking to Lucien just now, but she was thinking about feeling guilty for desjring Rhysand?? what. Am i just being stupid rn or are those things no in any way related

man this chapter was exhausting

[kirliao]

evermore: short series

fandom: top gun maverick

character(s): various members of the dagger squad

a/n: oh this was fun. it was pretty fun. and i love javy so..so much. did u guys know greg’s gonna be in the new mission impossible movie? thats rad. anyway my words got away from me 

track three: gold rush ( aka “may y/n be swallowed by a whale before she admits her feelings” )

the story's simple. your mom knew his mom and that's how the two of you met. standing by awkwardly while both of your moms used the moment to catch up with each other at the supermarket.

you were about twelve years old and itching to just go home and delve into this new book you'd borrowed from the library while javy was this punk-looking thirteen year old with a perma-frown, as if his mother just dragged him out of bed for a trip to the grocery store.

she did, but you didn't know that then. you really just wanted to go home; feeling bad for this boy wasn't really at the top of your list.

but when the two of you locked eyes after your mothers have bid goodbye to each other, you'd be lying if you didn't think he was interesting. or cute. or both.

it was both. who knew mrs. machado's son was actually cute if he just, well, stopped frowning?

but then it was your turn to frown when you realized that this was the same boy that your friend had been gushing about the weekend before. apparently, he and his little posse of boys liked to hang around the mall and your friend wanted to see what all the hype was about. you remember refusing to come, thinking that it was a waste of time. you'd rather score tickets at the arcade and come home with something nicer than a boy.

you spent the ride home looking out the window, some old tune about love on the radio that your mother idly sang along to.

it was the first romance-related crisis you've ever had. and you hated that you were placed in this precarious position of having eyes for the same guy your friend did.

and you dreaded the walk to school the morning after.

,

"y/n? hello? earth to my best friend?" your best friend's lips were glossed. hair done up in this beautiful style that you wished to emulate but you were too scared to try. not even - hell, not especially - to gain some guy's attention.

but the pit in your stomach when you think of his face ...

"i feel kinda sick." you groaned.

she rolled her eyes and just grabbed your arm to have you fall in step with her.

"well, don't puke or something. or at least wait until after lunch. we can both call home and get picked up early!"

you wanted to ask about what was so special about lunch, but figured that your question would be answered soon enough.

and the answer wasn't what you wanted.

as relationships went in the precarious teenage years, part of you knew that this wasn't gonna last. you loved your best friend, but she grew tired of boys quicker than you finished your jawbreakers.

and the painfully executed public display of affection you saw between your best friend and javy during lunch over your homemade sandwich was just the first stone in the short paved steps of how your best friend handled life with her paramours. she’d sat on his lap and gave him a kiss or so, but you noticed that when she was distracted with a conversation or two with someone that wasn’t you or javy, he would stare right at you. 

you figured that it was just the disbelief that his new girlfriend’s best friend was the same dork he’d met the day before.

you did end up calling your mom after lunch to take you home, your best friend doing the same thing. soon enough, you find yourself walking home together. you felt more queasy than anything else.

"so .. didn't i tell you? he's cute, right?" she inquired, reapplying her lip gloss for the umpteenth time.

"uhh .. yeah. he's ..he's cute."

"so i have your support?"

and when you didn't respond quick enough, she held an arm out to stop you from walking.

you looked at her arm, then at her face.

she wasn't stupid or selfish. sure, you dressed a little plainer than she did and was just a tad bit quieter but you two were attached at the hip. she favored you more than anything. she favored your thoughts and opinions over anyone else's.

your support has always meant everything.

and even if you wanted to put down javy as your first-ever full-blown crush, you favored her too. so you nodded.

"you have my support."

,

years after, you'd think back to that moment with great fondness.

you were right. the two of them didn't last. not that your relationship with either soured after.

it remained the same. you and your best friend continued to live life together. and while she eventually knew of your raging crush on javy, she was all too happy to help you find your own person, just as a supportive best friend does. she does it year in and out; all out of love, really.

your mother and javy's mother also started to hang out more, which meant that javy came over a lot. or you came over to the machado household more.

the two of you started to talk more and you found out that he was more than just the frown he had on his face when you first met. that he was more than the too cool for school posse he hung out with at the mall. that he was a total mama's boy and that, while it was annoying at first, he started to like it when your mothers started hanging out more.

it meant that there would be someone at home to hang out with that was his age. someone new. someone he didn't have to put up some kind of front with.

he was a lot more warm. liked to joke around and play harmless pranks on unsuspecting people. laughed a lot more than you thought he did. a lot more silly than you thought or from how you’ve seen him around his friends or your best friend.

he also didn’t like how trapped he felt in the role he had made for himself. a tough, cool dude who had to keep up appearances and make do with what he had after his father had left him and his mom a year prior. the two of you sat on a plush rug, chips and dip in between the two of you as he had recalled the day his father left. he bit his bottom lip, a nervous tic that you’ve noticed the more you spent time with him.

the lull of the old louis armstrong vinyl playing interwoven with your mothers’ laughter coming from the living room made you all too aware of the room you were in.

seventeen and eighteen years young. basketball posters on the wall. droplets of condensation on the top of your hand from the beer cans that javy had managed to swipe from the garage fridge and tossed at you, swearing that they were just way better than plain old sprites and root beers.

“the beer’s bitter.” you said, finally breaking the silence after you realized that you haven’t spoken up in a while.

“yeah, beer’s like that.” he had laughed, taking a swig from his own drink before nudging you. a gesture encouraging you to drink more.

that particular year went on.

truth is, years after initially meeting javy and his squad, you and your best friend had been unknowingly inducted into one of the cooler social spheres in your school.

so it wasn’t a surprise that for every school event, there would be gaggles of girls just wanting to be asked out by the four young men.

same for you and your best friend, though they were all frivolous little dates. none of them were ever serious; none of them paralleled the crazy feeling you felt when you had first met javy. 

the only surprise was how your own best friend wanted javy to ask you out. 

“but .. didn’t you guys used to date?”

she scoffed, her glossed lips pouting. “used to. it’s all in the past. we were in middle school! come on, y/n.”

but you were still unsure. that, and to be perfectly honest, competing was never really your thing.

you liked single player games. playing skee ball by yourself. you put your hand down when somebody else already raised theirs and you think that they could give a better answer during the lecture.

and you sure as hell didn’t want to compete with a dozen other girls that would stare daggers at you at the first wind of having another competitor in the arena for javy’s attention.

and that’s if they haven’t already stopped staring daggers and wishing pain on you for even being in his inner social circle.

you were about eighty percent sure that one of your nightmares has been being on ‘the bachelor’, too. 

you stared at javy across the way, watching as he leaned against his locker, surrounded by his boys. after a second, he caught your gaze and he waved, flashing a grin.

“you have my support. you know that, please know that.” your best friend whispered right at your ear.

the last thing you remember after was your best friend tapping the back of your shoulder repeatedly.

,

you turned around, holding this big bouquet of flowers and feeling oh so erratic and nervous and all the goddamn synonyms in the entire fucking thesaurus–

“y/n! y/n! where are you?! i need – oh my god, i need my bouquet! hand it over!” it was the shrill voice, such chaos emanating from your best friend.

you cursed your heels as you walked as fast as you could to where she was, handing the bouquet to her.

even while an emotional wreck, her glossed lips and beautiful hair distracted the world, as it always did. her wedding dress was as perfect as it could be; your maid-of-honor one matching but not upstaging. 

it was crazy. the two of you almost into your thirties and you get to watch her marry the love of her life. her actual person. the one, that she’s always harped on and on about. and while you had a slight cynical streak, it was pretty hard to keep when you see her with her lover. the two of them loved each other, it was obvious. it almost made you jealous.

before you left the room, she grabs your arm and pulls you close. her lips almost brushing your ear before she speaks up, “so .. this guy.. i have your support, right?”

you pulled back and looked at her, mustering the best smile you could give under stress. “you have my full support. trust me, he’s great.”

after the initial stress, the ceremony goes off without a hitch. soon enough, everyone’s ushered into the reception.

a few dances here, some teary-eyed family speeches there, and you find yourself helping to clean up some of the mess before you would make your way back to your hotel room.

the sound of someone clearing their throat caused you to turn around.

it was javy, dressed in his uniform.

your eyes widened. you saw that he was in the list, but you’ve craned your neck so many times during the ceremony and the reception that you knew that you would’ve seen him if he was there.

“sorry, i was .. really late.” oh, well, there’s that.

“it’s okay. um ..did you say hi to them already?” you craned your neck again. this time, looking for the bride or even, the groom.

“uh, yeah. i gave them my gift and apologized. honestly, i think she’s just glad this whole thing is over. weddings seem..stressful.”

you had to laugh, “yeah, they are. i’ve been busting my ass for about a year now over this engagement.” the year in question was a year you had seen him less. things change. people grow. people get jobs. and javy gains new obligations the further he gets into his career.

“well, seems that this one’s done for. you can breathe now.” he’d joked. you nodded, folding up the tablecloth in your hands. “yeah, finally.”

you took a few steps to the nearest table to set the tablecloth on it before turning back to him. “so .. are you staying long or do you have to leave soon?”

he shrugged, “up to you. i’ll stay as long as you like.”

you hummed, turning back around to fix the tablecloth that didn’t really need any fixing but god, you wanted to scream. only he could say those kind of things to you and have your nerves fraying like a full wig from the static electricity of children’s playgrounds.

“do you wanna get a drink? i’ll pay.” he finally spoke up, finding that while he appreciated the silence around you, this one wasn’t as comfortable.

you glanced back at him and gave a small smile. “well, you are paying.”

as the two of you were about to leave, you saw the dj packing up his equipment. 

tapping javy on the chest to get his attention, you told him about your want to tip the man for doing a great job on the event. and that, yes, he was paid, but you were pretty sure that there were so many people that requested songs that you felt a little bad.

“what, you don’t got money?” he asked, though he’s already reaching into his own pocket.

you frowned, “i left it in my hotel room, javy. this dress isn’t really meant for holding stuff, y’know.”

he shrugs, “that’s fair. here, some few dollar bills to spare–” he’d begun before his wallet drops, you rushing to catch it in time but sadly, it drops to the floor.

it’s open when it lands, your eyes skimming through the tiny picture inserted on the side. 

it was javy and you. prom night. a tiny printed picture that your best friend had no doubt had developed since you remember the moment fondly. 

he had asked you to be his date, right there at the door before the entire group went in. somehow, you found yourself saying yes and amidst the cheers from your shared friend group, he had pulled you in for a picture. your best friend at the ready with her flash film camera.

javy had pulled you close to him, both hands on your waist while you had both of yours on his chest. he had the biggest grin on his face as the click signals a picture taken. it was the happiest you’ve felt in forever, laughing as he never let go of you until you reminded him that the two of you still needed to go inside the building for the actual prom. 

“y/n?”

“you still have it.” you stated, picking up the wallet and holding it closer.

while you couldn’t see it, javy broke into a grin. “never left my wallet, actually.”

you looked up at him, only to see that he had already moved. he struck up a short conversation with the dj and gave him the money before making his way back to you.

“so..drinks?” was his only inquiry before he found your arms wrapped around his neck and he was finally being kissed by the woman he liked.

after pulling back, you looked right into his eyes. “it never left your wallet?” 

you had said it so softly that javy wasn’t initially sure that you’d said it. he shook his head in response. you tilted your head slightly. “why not? why .. me?”

his hands on your waist pulled you in closer. “why not you?”

this time, you shrugged. “just .. “

and a badly-clipped montage of all the times you’ve seen javy with other people plays in your head. on how he always seemed to look right at you, questioning. how every time you think about taking your chance, you just never wanted to jump in the gold rush that was this man’s appeal. 

because after prom, the two of you graduated. then life got in the way. and even with the reassurance that he liked you, wanted you..you just didn’t feel confident enough to take a step towards him.

until now. 

“nothing, i guess. i..how..when did you know? that, you know, you…liked me?”

“honestly?”

“honestly.”

he bit his lip, the way he would before he was gonna tell you something that’s been in his mind for a while. “since our moms stopped each other at the grocery store.”

your eyes widened, before you looked down and bit your own lip momentarily. 

upon looking back up, you stared right at his eyes again. “i like you too.”

“god, i sure hope so. otherwise, we’ll be making out in an almost empty room for no reason.” javy replied before pulling you in for another kiss.

so the story wasn’t simple in terms of detail. but in the end, all that ever mattered was that you and javy liked each other.

( cue your mothers rejoicing when the news of the two of you dating reached them. clinking glasses of wine over sunday brunch and shit. )

[heybaetae]

tag game catch-up :)

i've been tagged by @jkvjimin, @btsiu, and @kimtaegis in some fun tag games the past few days, but haven't had the time to participate until now, so i'm gonna consolidate them all into one post!

7 questions to get to know me better

last song: backseat serenade by all time low

favourite colour: neon green

last film/show: barry on HBO

sweet/savoury/spicy: savoury

last thing i googled: i googled the HFPA randomly at 3am last night lol

relationship status: single for life probably

current obsessions: dan and phil's sim series (i'm rewatching it all in reverse....idk why), videos about cool kitchen gadgets, and jeopardy

fave k-pop group tag

who is your favourite k-pop group? ↳ bts

which member sparked your interest first? ↳ j-hope! he captured my attention the first time i watched them in an interview, so i gravitated towards him the most in the beginning.

who was your first bias? ↳ naturally, it was hobi :)

who is your current bias? ↳ taehyung (ult), jimin, and jungkook

what makes them your current bias(es)? ↳ mostly everything stemmed from their individual stage presence first, then the more i got to know them as people, it solidified things. so in addition to hobi in the very beginning, jimin and jungkook also caught my eye when boy with luv came out. i tweeted a screenshot from their SNL performance and said "these specific three right here..." and my friend, who was a more seasoned army at the time, replied and told me they were the dance line! so that made sense why they stood out to me in that choreo. when dynamite came out the following year, taehyung (who had admittedly been under my radar somehow) completely knocked me off my feet and kinda knocked hobi down from my ult spot in the process, though i still consider hobi the entire reason i ever gave bts a real chance following my "casual fan" era. jimin and jungkook remained in my top 3 even though i didn't immediately realize i had emotionally locked in on the "maknae line" because i didn't learn more about their ages and "lines" until a little later. it just played out that way gradually. vmin(hope!!!)kook, my beloved.

who is your bias wrecker? ↳ jungkook and yoongi

which members are you currently obsessing over that aren't your bias/bias wrecker? ↳ jin because he's coming home so soon and it's getting me sooo excited.

when did you first discover this group? ↳ i discovered them properly in 2018 when they were on the tonight show for the first time, but i'd heard of them as early as 2017 when they broke out in the U.S.

have you ever been to one of their concerts? ↳ yes, 4 ptd shows + 1 d-day show.

what are some of your favorite songs by the group? ↳ mikrokosmos, lights, friends, anpanman, best of me, and dis-ease!

february receiptify

i don't think i listened to spotify much this month, but i spent all day yesterday listening to greyson chance, niall horan, and harry styles music that i hadn't listened to in a long time so it naturally took over the algorithm lol

consider yourself tagged if you see this and wanna do it!