#it’s not that i can’t understand why people like the aus i genuinely can

[zukosdualdao]

i don’t begrudge people interesting aus, and i get why someone might be interested in exploring a plot where azulon didn’t really order ozai to kill zuko and that whole series of events went differently from what zuko was told and what the narrative says (and the comics, contentious as they are, further cement.)

that being said: when it comes to canon, i strongly dislike the argument that it can’t really be that azulon ordered ozai to kill zuko because it’s illogical when he just berated ozai for disrespecting iroh and lu ten after lu ten’s death…

because like… yes. it’s illogical, and unfair, and absurd, especially when he’s ostensibly doing it in the name of love for iroh and respect for the family line (which is not actually what it’s about, but more on that in a minute.)

it’s not logical or reasonable. that’s the point.

abusers don’t care about logic, not as it pertains to them. abusers will often give illogical orders or make unreasonable demands and then treat everyone else as the problem when they can’t live up to them or else point out the flawed nature of them.

(we also see how it affects zuko and azula, who have both been taught this behavior both by example (and, in zuko’s case, by being on the receiving end of it. the demand he endlessly search for a deity-like figure no one’s seen in a hundred years and most people believe to be forever-dead springs to mind.) in the storm, zuko unreasonably demands that they continue their search for the avatar and that the safety of the crew doesn’t matter, but the whole episode is about deconstructing that mindset and showing how he got there, and in the end, he chooses to do the right thing, saving a crew member and deciding to get the ship to safety instead of following aang. azula, by contrast, orders her own soldiers to pull in the ship despite the tides, and only doubles down (and violently threatens) when questioned, showing a lack of respect for the laws of nature itself. this is her first proper episode, and she never truly grows out of this mindset. see also: cherries accidentally left un-pitted being treated as evidence of high treason.)

there is a story about intergenerational trauma and the cycles of abuse being told here. azulon is contradicting himself. he’s a hypocrite! abusers often are! he doesn’t care, though, because why should he, when he defines what’s right and wrong—just as ozai does and as he teaches azula to—not through any consistent moral conviction or code but through what he decides to do and therefore what he perceives as his right to do? in his mind, the only ‘right’ is his final word, and the highest ‘wrong’ is going against it.

and while he couches his outrage at ozai’s attempt to usurp iroh’s place in the line of heirs in language that suggests it’s about loyalty to iroh and respect for the family line—it’s not really. it’s outrage that ozai, the son he clearly doesn’t care for, dares to question iroh’s place, and therefore azulon’s judgment and authority, as the rightful heir, the respected general, the golden child.

but it’s not even about genuinely respecting iroh or what he would want, whatever azulon may tell himself. iroh, who, even at the height of his imperialist indoctrination and military power, i very earnestly believe would have been horrified to learn azulon ordered zuko’s murder and that it was done, ostensibly, on “his behalf”—even though he never and never would have asked for it. and, especially coming just after lu ten’s death, i think he would hate for his grief at the loss of his son to be twisted and used in this horrendous way.

anyway. azulon’s order doesn’t match up with what he say he values and is trying to defend, but that’s because those things are not what he’s truly so angry about. it’s about control. he has it, and he will make any illogical, cruel, sadistic order he wants when someone challenges it, because he can.

which, by the way, is ozai’s whole MO as well.

[yuwuta]

mine. — inumaki toge

❝i just wanna say you’re mine, you’re mine; fuck what you heard, you’re mine, you’re mine.

000. inumaki toge + reader

001. fluff, non-curse/college au, slightly suggestive but barely, inumaki uses sign language and speaks like two actual verbal words

002. baby sized drabble, barely even 1k words

Toge would consider himself patient. He doesn’t mind waiting in long lines for the release of a new game, has no problem when the trains are delayed because it means he can sit and relax in the station a little longer, can sit for hours on end doing nothing and not be bored—but his tolerance for watching other people mess with his girlfriend is extremely low.

He reasons that you continue the conversation because you think it’s merely friend and polite to do so, and you’ve always been such a pleasantly happy drunk. But Toge knows this conversation isn’t friendly on the other end—and it’s not some protective boyfriend instinct, either, he has solid evidence of this idiot talking about you to his other idiot friend in front of Toge during lecture, with no knowledge that he was behind them, or that you are very not single.

(“She’s gorgeous, bro, look,” the kid muses, showing his friend your Instagram profile, “She’s in my bioethics class, and she’s easily the hottest girl. Smart, too. Little bit of a teacher’s pet, but I don’t care, she’s beautiful. A solid eight, for sure.”)

Toge knows that if this guy ever got his head out of his ass and ever bucked up the balls to actually ask you out instead of using roundabout flirting tactics and hopelessly pining over you during lectures, that you’d turn him down. He isn’t worried about losing you, and he doesn’t doubt your love for him. It does, however, concern him that there are people who believe they have a shot with you in the first place. He can’t possibly let that carry on. 

(Also, an eight? How could this guy call you beautiful, but say you’re an eight? It doesn’t equate—Toge doesn’t believe in rating women, but you’re not an eight. You’re a fifteen on a scale of one to ten; a shining star amongst a sea of planets; the love of his life). 

His fuse is about to blow when the guy touches you, reaches for your hair and carefully twirls a bit between his fingers. He knows that move; he knows the excuse was probably that there was something stuck to your hair, but Toge didn’t see shit. He’s had enough, and promptly bulldozes through Maki’s small apartment to reach you. He’s not sure if he’s making a ruckus, or if you can sense him coming, but you turn your head in his direction, a smile spreading on your face before cheering, “Hey, Toge! Do you—”

You’re cut off by a tug on your shirt, firm and impatient—but you’re not moving yet, not quick enough, so he does it again. Your eyes seem to light up with realization. You turn back to acknowledge the boy, and that’s really when Toge really loses it. All he hears is the stupid, desperate pitch of the kid’s voice sputtering out something about finding you later and grabbing drinks for you both, even as Toge’s dragging you through the crowd.

You let yourself be pulled by Toge’s greedy hand. It’s not all that far, just into a corner of the hallway, next to a closet where Maki keeps her cleaning and kickboxing supplies. He’s tempted to pull you into her bedroom, but he’s not up for being bruised for a week. 

“You okay?” you question, voice sweet and genuine—and it makes him grimace, because you really didn’t have a clue. Not one at all. 

Toge huffs, drops your hand to sign; using his left hand to circle around his face slowly, tapping at his chin. You understand, but only partially, given the slight tilt of your head and question that follows, “Beautiful? That’s why you’re upset?” 

He blinks slowly, shaking his head and flailing his arms in the direction of the living room. You follow his hands, down the hall then back to his face, but he can tell you still don’t get it. He tries again, pointing to you, then repeating his previous sign and adding another, and he can see the realization spread across your face, followed shortly by a bashful chuckle. 

“Too pretty? Me?” you ask to confirm. Toge nods his head, all serious and steely eyes, but you throw yours back with a hearty laugh this time. He crinkles his eyebrows, repeating his initial signs this time. Hdoesn’t know what’s so funny, if you’re laughing because you’re flattered or you find him ridiculous or something in between, but Toge means it either way; wants to ingrain it into you, just how beautiful you are.

So, he raises his hands again, when your eyes have met him again, and goes slower this time—pulls his mask down for good measure, so you can read his expression more clearly—to sign one simple word: “Mine.”

You tilt your head to the side again, and now Toge is the one laughing. He thinks you might be a little more drunk than you’ve let on, or maybe you just want him to indulge you. Either way, he has no problem repeating himself, doesn’t mind telling you again and again and again. 

He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. You seem much smaller than him like this, still giggling, but he doesn’t mind. Toge reaches for your rest again, turning your palm upward and using a single finger to trace the letters of the word “mine,” onto your skin.

Your laughter comes to a halt when you verbalize his words, “Mine?” Toge nods, turning your wrist again to lace your hands together, pushes yours against the wall, uses his free one to cradle your cheek. He adores the way your pupils get bigger, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. It’s his turn to smile, pulling you towards him for a kiss and ghosting his words over your lips, “You’re mine.”

[ghouljams]

Okay sorry if I sent a double ask b/c I genuinely can’t remember whether I already sent this or just like thought about it a bunch in my head, but:

I’m the person who sent the ask saying that moon and soap reminded me of Austen and I’m losing my mind at the idea of you writing more austenian!au thoughts 🥰🥰🥰 I love the ghost stuff and I’d love to know if there’s anything you have in mind for the rest of the 141

Ps. The die x ghost fic emotionally destroyed me in the best way possible 💕

Yes yes yes, I have your ask but at risk of posting the same ask twice I am going to answer this one! Here's my pitch for Soap and Moon in the austenian!au (although I could call it a regency au)

You're not exactly a desirable match. Mostly due to your temperament than any other failing. You're of a mind that it's better to keep people at arms length before they disappoint you. As such your loving parents have taken it upon themselves to arrange a marriage for you. Fair enough, none of you particularly expect a love match. You, however, are not happy. Why should you want a man around? So you can be nagged at, complained to? So you can have someone to dig your claws into or ignore completely?

It's really only when your Soap shows up all the way from Scotland that you realize how far your parents were willing to go to make sure you couldn't fuck this up. Oh he's got a good title, good standing, good body, good jaw and voice and he tips your head and tells you you're ever so pretty. And when you bite his hand his eyes burn for you. You're desperate to find some way to get him to call off the engagement --he hardly knows you, only agreed to it over letter, it shouldn't be this hard!-- but he won't budge. He'll drag you down the aisle kicking and screaming if he has to, but he won't. No, he knows that all your barbs are defensive, he knows that you're trying to guard a fragile heart, and he's going to make this a love match.

Because he's been in love with you since he first received your portrait. Since your father described you as "difficult, but well meaning." Since he could understand what love was, and start dreaming of you.

[sharkorok]

yeonjun w/ an inexperienced s.o

a/n: yooo the legendary yeonjun pic :P, anyways i decided to just follow the oldest member pattern I hope that’s ok anonnie :>

requested: yes!! thank uuu

tw/genre: cursing, fluff, campus au ig(?), fboi yeonjun kinda not really, insecurities so like minimal angst I suppose, tell me if I missed anything :]

•-•-•-•-•-•

-ok so yeonjun. practically everyone has had a crush on him at least two times in their life

-you’ve heard of his charms and smooth-talking and thanked god every day he’s never talked to you because PHEW you had no idea how to respond to that holy moly

-ok once again we are at a party and yeonjun sees you and thinks ur super duper pretty and he’s like “omg isn’t that the person who made someone cry because they responded to ‘i love you’ w thanks?”

-and that only happened because you didn’t know to respond with “i love you too” or “aww thanks” so whateves but you’re pretty notorious for being clumsy with relationships and avoiding getting into them

-so he walks up to you and is like “hey” w rizz and he finds your awkwardness both endearing and refreshing

-the crowd he hangs around with are familiar with sucking up to people or being charming, being automatically magnetic, and in the nicest way possible you weren’t really like that

-but you two become friends and date congrats

-he thinks you’re the cutest ever like genuinely

-maybe it’s the virgo in him but he likes teaching you things or at least helping you through them

-like your first proper kiss or make out or whatever, he walks you through it without making it awkward or patronizing and you appreciate that

-he’s very open about your relationship, he wants you to know he doesn’t care if anyone has nasty opinions on the two of you, he’s proud to show you off

-lowk tho i do feel like he gets insecure if you don’t express your love or affection for him but he also understands so he’s super conflicted and aghhh

-but then ur friend is like “what about gift giving or expressing love in your own way?” and ur like “omg ur so right?”

-and so everyday you write sticky notes or little letters reminding him of all the reasons why you love him, or you do tiny acts and you explain “until I get more comfortable I want to show you I love you in my own way” and he cries

-like he actually cries it was kinda awkward but sweet at the same time, he really appreciates you making an effort for him

-so after that he really cherishes ur little expressions of love :) and then gets pissed if anyone says u don’t treat him right

-because nuh uh yes u do, in ur own way

-likes to fluster you on purpose though, thinks you look cutest when you’re flustered and confused

-he won’t make fun of you but he’ll tease you for sure (if ur ok with it), but he always somehow compliments you too??

-“how can someone as gorgeous as you be so inexperienced with relationships?” and ur not sure whether you feel called out or flattered

-takes you on lots and lots of dates so you can experience what it’s like having a nice boyfriend who’s good to you! he’ll make sure this relationship will be the standard and more for any future partners u have.

-(not like you’ll have anyone else you’re too in love w him)

-never misses a beat with you, because he’s so good at conversation and being a flirt it doesn’t matter if you can’t reciprocate cuz he’ll just carry the convo lol

-“uhhh thanks for the flowers yeonjun :]” i love u too.” “yo whaaaat” and he just winks and kisses ur cheek

-what a weird couple, anyways

-he likes to push you a little bit, not really for your relationship but because it’s amusing

-like if you want physical affection but feel too shy to ask for it he’ll play dumb until you get all pouty and sulky

-“please give me a kiss oh my god jun” “shshsh I’m sorry I was joking!!”

-one time at a party this girl was hardcore flirting with yeonjun and talking about how she LOVESSS pda and how she’s SOOO EXPERIENCED and how she knows how to treat a man and she’s doing this all in front of you, rlly testing your patience

-yeonjun just rolls his eyes and squeezes your hand that’s loosely being held in his, but before he knows it you dragged him by the collar to give him a kiss

-if love isn’t ur fuel for confidence, jealousy and spite sure is

-“good thing I have a partner who treats me perfectly,” yeonjun says after you do your little smooch n she’s so pissed ur giggling

-yeonjun always is like “You don’t have to,” or “take your time,” and “only if you want to, ok?”

-so you don’t have to worry about meeting his expectations, the only way to disappoint is if you don’t feel comfortable enough setting boundaries and then he’s disappointed in the both of you

-makes u feel like the safest ever but also so flustered and giddy

-ok bye I’m devastated why r u so cute in these

[artbyblastweave]

Thinkin’ about The Siberian

I was sitting on a draft that said something to the effect of “Worm AU where Manton pulls an NBC Hannibal and moonlights as The Siberian on top of being a globally respected parahuman studies researcher. Is this anything.”

Then I thought about this a little more and realized that this might not be far off from what actually happened. There’s a throughline in Manton’s interests, in his trajectory through life, where he’s trying to figure out what you can use powers to get away with doing to people- about identifying constraints and overcoming them. 

He’s the guy who somehow credibly catalogued, and got his name associated with, the fact that powers generally can’t be used to pop people like balloons, and he did so reasonably early in the timeline, in the nineties at the latest. That’s.... an interesting direction to take your research! When people are just coming to terms with the fact that parahumans are real he’s out there taking careful note of whether they can manifest their powers inside people to instantly kill them. How did he test that? What capes did he collaborate with to test that? What did those conversations look like? Did the IRB at a minimum issue any revise-and-resubmits?

And then, of course, he gets picked up by Cauldron (also known as the infinite untraceable victim depot) to work on improving the vials- gaining a sufficiently in-depth understanding of what they are, how they’re made, and what they can do to people that when Cauldron told Legend that Manton had gone rogue and was the one creating C53s, he found this plausible. You’ve got the guy who’d later become the backbone of the Slaughterhouse 9 basically systemically cataloging every conceivable way a power could violate someone’s physiology- first from without, and then, at Cauldron, from within.

Then, when he pulls the trigger and gives himself powers, the resultant ability is essentially a distilled refutation of the Manton Effect- a minion that can obliterate anything, eat anything, delete any material from existence, viscerally dismember people in a unity of conventional and esoteric, power-enabled violence. And he’s insulated from the consequences of his actions on two levels- in terms of Siberian’s invulnerability, but also in the discrepancy between his form and that of his minion. He mixed the vial that gave him that power himself.

Essentially- I don’t think Siberian is something that just happened after a psychological break following a messy divorce. I think Manton basically pre-committed to becoming something like The Siberian, spent most of his career working towards some form of transcendence through superpowers, and the messy divorce was downstream of the cracks starting to show as he got closer and closer to what he’d been chasing.

Now to segue into a complication that’s more directly supported in the text- it’s Worm, it’s always complicated- Master powers spring from loneliness. My theory is that while Manton wanted apotheosis, and while he’d probably been gearing up for a rampage for a while, he genuinely didn’t want to do it alone; he wanted a sidekick. Hence why he bothered pursuing a family in the first place, hence why he fed his daughter a vial, hence why his own projection ended up looking like his daughter after he accidently made her explode or whatever with the bad vial- a monkey’s paw restoration, giving him back a facsimile of the person he wanted to take along for the ride, and making his capacity for violence inseparable from her presence.

This is why he joined up with the Nine rather than remaining a solo act; it’s why he engages in a bad imitation of the Parent/Child relationship with Bonesaw; and it’s why he seeks out Bitch as a candidate. His interest in her candidacy parses to me as genuine- Even moreso than Bonesaw, even moreso than Jack, Bitch has arrived at a no-frills fuck-you-I-do-what-I-want outlook that’s very appealing to Manton. He wants to have a murderer-daughter relationship!

But Rachel got where she is the hard way, by having a life that sucked a lot, by getting near-constantly kicked around! She has a clear reason to be so angry! Even if all my postulations about Manton having a long game are complete bullshit, there are several stages at which Manton had to actively opt in to the same lifestyle and reputation that Bitch was forced to adopt as a basic survival tactic. He didn’t have to start eating people! He’s a tourist! His “freedom” is inseparable from his distance, his disguise. Rachel’s “freedom” is just the freedom of having nothing left to lose.

All of this to say- In an interlude in which Bitch has an extended internal monologue about how people with families have the opportunities to be assholes and monsters to a captive audience, it is absolutely not a coincidence that she’s scouted by a would-be parental figure who proceeds to be an asshole and a monster in front of a captive audience, before trying to buy her affection with a puppy. In rejecting Manton, Rachel dodged an esoterically-packaged but ultimately very familiar bullet.

[liulith]

Why Vox’ one-sided psychosexual obsession with Alastor is PERFECT for a #radiostatic QPR

This fanwork is an edited version of a comment I wrote for a fic from the 666: Live on Air! Series by @prince-liest You don’t need to know the fic to understand it, though! Just keep in mind that those are headcanons based on a hypothetical established relationship between Alastor and Vox, in which Vox’s obsession for Alastor has changed flavors from hatred to love, and Alastor doesn’t return his feelings but finds his pathetic obsession entertaining, flattering and somewhat cute. (Also, this doesn’t address the past friendship (?) between them that is being hinted at by the photo in S1 finale, since we have zero context for that at the moment)

Why Vox is Like That

My headcanon is that Vox has always been the type to strive for power and recognition, always reaching for the top of the heap. The problem is that he’s too good at it.

Once he gets into whatever position of power he wanted, he gets bored because what he truly likes is fighting his way to the top. Whatever comes after can be enjoyable but it never compares to the “fight” itself – and thus Vox is always left unsatisfied, setting new goals to become even more powerful because *surely*, that’s what will finally bring him the sense of fulfillment he wants.

(We can kinda see it in his introduction. The man looks bored to tears before Alastor waltzes back into his life and turns him into a manic mess! Here’s a tumblr post about it)

This is precisely why I think Hell gave Vox hypnosis powers: the same reason it gave Alastor the body of a prey animal. It’s torture! With those powers, Vox can get almost anything he wants and he hates it. On Earth, people were a challenge; not everyone can be bought, and he had to rely on his skills.

Sure, he still has those skills in Hell; but in Hell, where every sinner is a potential enemy and the exorcists come down once a year, power is key to his survival and he has to take any victory he can get; meaning, he’ll never be able to *not* use his hypnosis powers, not as long as he wants to survive, even if that makes the fight to the top lose its appeal.

[Insert non-existent tangent on how Val not being affected by the hypnosis – because he’s half blind – is a key factor in Vox’ attraction to him]

Why Vox can’t NOT be obsessed with Alastor:

Alastor is powerful enough to resist his mind-control powers. Alastor can’t be swayed by Vox’ influence, his connections, his power, his money. In short, he’s a challenge. Vox needs to earn his attention, needs to work for it.

Thankfully for him, there *is* something Alastor is interested in: his genuine, unguarded, desperate self: the one that has a full manic episode/mental breakdown when he learns Alastor is back in town. The side of him he always hides under layers and layers of confidence, bravado and corporate talk!

And, deep down, that desperate side of him is exactly why he strives for power so hard in the first place. This man is full of insecurities and he NEEDS to be the biggest fish (shark) in the tank.

This means that Alastor is the embodiment of his deepest fears! He sees through all his bullshit, makes him lose all his composure, and is able to destroy him in EVERY WAY that matters. And yet, he doesn’t. Because, he tolerates (likes) him (in the context of this AU) just as he is, patheticness and all :3  I think there’s something very liberating about that.

Plus, Vox is a simp. He’s a manic sado-masochist who gets off on seeing Alastor humiliated and being humiliated himself, he wants Alastor helpless under his claws, wants Alastor to step on him and tear his heart out if that’s the only way Alastor would touch him, wants to have a cutesy dance-off with and make him laugh until his face hurts.

Oh Vox, we’re really in it now

He’s obsessed with Alastor and wants him in any way he can have him – and I think he’d be ready to give himself over to Alastor in any way Alastor wants to have him as well, because as long as it means Alastor wants something *from him*, it’s worth it. Even if it destroys him.

So, in a context where he has experienced Alastor being on friendly terms with him, where Alastor he has seen Alastor’s genuinely smiling at him and handing him the smallest crumb of affection, there’s just no turning back. Yes, he *could* still get off on seeing Alastor hurt because he’s deranged like that, but he doesn’t want it anymore.

or, well. the vicious, demonic part of him does still want to hurt him, but not exactly for the same reasons as before. It’s more of his caged beast of a heart wanting to make its predator pay for ruining it, in a desperate attempt to reduce his pain (at Alastor’s perceived “indifference”), to force Alastor to SEE him (not that he can. Lol).

BUT! he doesn’t need to do that now! Not when there is so much he would have to give up! So many other emotions, reactions he can get out of Alastor, knowing that HE did that!! To Alastor!! Him!! He cares so, so much. He’s the biggest shark in the tank but Alastor is the water around him. I suck at metaphors.

FML: Alastor edition

Hell turned Alastor into a prey animal because he has always felt like one. I think that at his core, he’s never going to get rid of his instinctual mistrust of others and fear of having any exposed vulnerability turned against him, because it’s part of a defense mechanism he developed since childhood.

He grew in Louisiana as a mixed-race* boy (*it's a bit more complicated than that since "Louisiana Creole" is not a racial designation but let's say Alastor is 100% mixed-race with a POC mom in this context), in an era of widespread lynching and racial segregation, at a time where millions of Black Americans migrated to the North because of the horrible socio-economic conditions of the South. Hell, he was alive during the great Mississippi flood of 1927 – the most destructive river flood of the entire history of the US – and he SAW the government refuse to prioritize the safety of the POC who were 75% of the population (literally; “The refugee camps also dealt with extreme racial inequality, as supplies and means of evacuation after flooding were given strictly to white citizens, with Blacks receiving only leftovers. African Americans also did not receive supplies without providing the name of their white employer or voucher from a white person. In order to fully exploit black labor, Blacks were frequently forced to work against their will, and were not permitted to leave the camps.”)

We don’t know if he was white-passing or visibly mixed, or if his white dad was in the picture, but since he only mentions his mother in canon I’m gonna run with the idea that she raised him alone. He seems to have had a positive relationship with her, which may have impacted his relationships with women in general. However, as a Creole woman, his mom couldn’t guarantee his safety in a society that was rigged against her.

So, he grew up learning the world was out to get him, that no one had his back, and that *performance* was key to his continued safety and survival. By performance, I mean learning how to act around white people to appear non-threatening/avoid being reduced to his ancestry/manage to “pass” well enough. But passing too well would also exclude him from his own community, as mixed people often are.

He also learned that despite his best efforts, no matter how competent he could become, some things would always be unfairly inaccessible to him for reasons outside of his control, and he couldn’t stand for it. The quiet rage, the humiliation, he took out on people by becoming a serial killer: permanently excluding “unworthy” people from society, and consuming them to assert his absolute dominance over them.

FML: Alastor edition. Why he would like Vox:

As the Radio Demon, Alastor has more power than he ever craved in his human life. He’s also vulnerable to the exorcists (Adam), to higher demonic powers (Lucifer, etc.) and was put on a leash by a mysterious character (Lilith? Eve? Roo?).

He’s more desperate for control than ever. It’s not that hard in his daily life, since most people (besides Husk and..? idk) don’t know he made a deal, and he can act like his usual confident self. However, it’s a control that is not unconditional, never absolute nor freely given.

And Vox? He’s hopelessly devoted to Alastor. Alastor has the upper hand on him in terms of raw power, but he also has the absolute psychological and emotional upper hand here. Vox is putting his heart and everything he has on the line in a way Alastor would never do in his worst nightmares. Vox is probably the only person who ever *let* Alastor have this much power over them, and Alastor loves to see it.

This, in turn, makes Alastor more willing to show his more vulnerable side, in a way he would never do if he were also in love with Vox imo. Because Vox is “only Vox” to him, and losing Vox wouldn’t destroy him the way it would if he returned Vox’ feelings, he’s paradoxically more likely to get closer to him. Being in love with Vox would make him too vulnerable and I honestly think that if he became that desperately attached, he would kill him in a fit of panicked narcissistic self-preservatory rage, to prove he’s stronger than this. He’d be too scared to have his feelings taken advantage of, and his brained is wired to kill anything that gets in his way.

Having Vox as a friend, however, is just perfect for him! Just the right amount of closeness and connection that enables him to give him his trust, without fearing he’s being blinded by feelings outside of his control. And knowing that Vox wants him *that* desperately but accepts Alastor’s inability and unwillingness to return this love, and is content to be given anything Alastor allows… Well, that’s heartwarming in its own right, isn’t it?

And THIS is why RadioStatic as a qpr/fucked up friendship with benefits has so much potential, to me! <3

[laundrybiscuits]

Found myself reading some old Inception fic and felt the urge to poke at an AU idea—I know ST fandom skews a little young, so I genuinely don’t know how many people will even get this. If there are Inception primers out there, I haven’t bothered to find them, so…you’re on your own, kids. 

“Absolutely not. I do my own forges.” Eddie sweeps the file off the table and directly into the trashcan; admittedly, it’s not the most mature thing he’s ever done, but Henderson’s getting on his last goddamned nerve. 

The little twerp has the fucking audacity to roll his eyes and groan, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable. “I know this guy, don’t be a dick. He can do it. Don’t you wanna focus on your super special architect stuff?”

“What you and every other dumbass dilettante drowser don’t seem to grasp is that my architecture is alive, and I breathe life into it via my meticulously crafted characters. I create richly textured worlds, Henderson, and I populate them myself. That’s why I’m the best in the fucking business: because I understand that the people and the setting are one and the same, and I can handle both.”

“Eddie.” Henderson crouches to grab the file out of the trash, and smacks it back down on the table. “I’m running this team, and I’m saying I don’t want anything like what happened in Munich to ever happen again. Okay?”

“Low blow, kid,” snaps Eddie. “Munich wasn’t on me.” 

“I know, jeez. I just…” Henderson takes a second to tap the loose sheets in the file back into place, then stands there with his lips pressed together like he’s keeping something in. After a moment, he just says, “This isn’t going to be Munich. Because Steve’s going to be here.”

———

It’s not Munich. It’s not Munich at all. It is the furthest fucking thing from Munich possible. 

Eddie’s never had a job go that smoothly—and it’s not down to Henderson’s obsessive prep, because it should’ve been a slippery one. The kind of job that twisted partway through into something frustratingly unexpected, forcing them to improvise and take whatever half-win they could squeeze out of the mark’s subconscious while dodging completely unexpected security. 

Instead, it’s so incredibly not-Munich that the client gives them a fucking bonus, and when was the last time that happened? The bonus is generous enough that Eddie’s share can cover a whole new safehouse in Melbourne, which should have been great news, something to celebrate, except for the absolutely unholy amount of smugness now radiating from Henderson.

Eddie avoids the I-told-you-so conversation as long as he can, but he can’t run forever.

“I told you so,” says Henderson, flopping unceremoniously into the dark wooden chair next to Eddie.

“This is a library, dude. Keep your fuckin’ voice down,” says Eddie, without much hope. He’d heard Henderson was supposed to be meeting up with Sinclair in Lima this week; so much for that intel.

Henderson waves a dismissive hand, gesturing vaguely at the domed skylight high overhead. “It’s not like a library library. It’s basically a museum.”

“The goddamn State Library of Victoria is absolutely one hundred percent a library library, genius. See all the books? But also, do you think people go around yelling in museums?”

“Maybe they should! What we should be focusing on now, though, is that I was right about Steve, and I think it’s important for our working relationship that you acknowledge I was right.”

“I don’t have to acknowledge shit,” says Eddie, slumping down and ignoring the glares they’re starting to get from everyone in the atrium. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an egomaniac, kid? I don’t even get why you’re so hot on the guy, anyway. He’s like—the least imaginative forger I’ve ever met.”

It comes out a little harsher than he’d meant it. It’s just that forgers, as a people, tend to be easily swept into flights of fancy.

Eddie’s always sort of thought it was a requirement of the profession: when he’s inhabiting a character, part of his mind is always working to generate the little details that make them feel like a whole person. Their secret fears and even more secret hopes. How they deal with boredom or anger, what their gut reactions are. The small gaps between how they see themselves and how others see them. That’s where Eddie thrives, and he thinks that if he were less hooked on the magic of spinning up entire worlds for marks to wander through, he might forge full-time, just for the thrill of riding that uncertainty. It’s how he was taught, but clearly, Steve learned something different.

What Steve does isn’t really classical forging—not in the way Eddie thinks about it, usually. Steve just…walks into a situation, says some stuff, maybe gives the mark a smile all warm and private like a whispered secret. And then the mark folds. It’s maddening how easy Steve makes it look. Oh, he’ll pull on the right costumes and tweak his physicality a little, but it’s always still just Steve underneath. 

Maybe that’s the trick. Eddie’s forges work because he crafts lavishly detailed lies; Steve’s forges work because there’s some kind of real, solid honesty at the core. 

“I’m going to ignore the hurtful thing you just said because I know you hate to admit it when I’m right and you’re wrong,” Henderson informs him. “You really gotta work on that. More importantly, I’ve got a lead on a new job, and Steve already said yes.”

It’s not like Eddie needs the money. Henderson’s a nightmare to work with. And there’s the, y’know. The Steve Harrington of it all. Eddie has a million reasons to say no.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says instead. “When do we start?”

[fatdink]

modern/90s vdl gang au… i’ve succumbed to the illness

— arthur is 36 divorced dad. he’s still pining over his high school gf (he sees her sometimes tho fr like he still has a shot with her fr ((crazy))) and has complicated feelings towards his ex wife. he’s a good father, never late to pick up or drop off. gets issac on the weekends. does not understand the smiths but issac likes it so OK.

— he lives in an okay-ish apartment building, like it’s not falling apart or anything. he works a hoarde of jobs but like. this bitch is always doing something new. no1 ever knows what fucking job he’s working. if u need smth, best 2 go 2 him. he knows ppl fr

— john is 26, with child and having problems. he’s doin ok (liar). he and abigail r in a ‘complicated’ relationship, they’re not really together but they’re also not seeing other people and they’re co parenting and also they don’t live tgther bc john STILL.. lives at his dads’ place. he has enough money 2 move out, but he doesn’t know if he wants 2 yet. (can’t handle change). he’s a decent father, like worse than arthur but he’s ok.

— he works at some like shitty dead end job. he’s trying to get his life 2gether but. it’s hard. he feels like he’s progressing slower than everyone else and is maybe beginning to regret not going to college. he’s down in the dumps, guys. also. he’s in a band.. yeah.. a shitty little band that sounds A LOT… like nirvana, i wonder why

— hosea is 55 and still taking care of his sons. free him. FREE HIM!!!! he’s in a book club @ the library where he meets young lenny whom he finds very endearing. he’s basically retired (co-owns a store with dutch) and bonds with his young employees. he wants john to move out, but not for the reasons u think, he genuinely just wants john to get better and start taking care of his son better. a lot like in the game

— he is well liked within the community. his employees will genuinely look to him for advice which he finds sweet. he has a close relationship with arthur still and calls him when he can. he and dutch are currently in an argument about the john situation bc hosea figures that dutch coddled john too much. dutch disagrees. dutch sleeps on the couch.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

if you don't mind can I request PM Dazai x PM fem! Reader in a soulmate AU? Thank u

A/N: PM Dazai >>> his best era in my opinion but what do I know. I’ll be making a part 2 to this soon!!

Warnings: mentions of death, favoritism, mentions of suicide, soulmate AU

Navigation!! // Masterlist !!

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you being assigned the hardest missions at first. He wants to make sure you can hold your own, he can’t protect you all the time.

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you not knowing why he’s being such an asshole to you, you do everything he asks perfectly with no complaints.

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him telling you to pay more attention to your surroundings and to focus on controlling your ability more

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you going to him frustrated one night after a dangerous mission, asking him why he keeps giving you such difficult tasks

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him being completely shocked at how much it bothered him that he hurt you, snapping at you like that.

“Get over it Y/n.”

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him not understanding how he could have a soulmate living a life like this. A life of death of fighting. He doesn’t deserve a soulmate. He doesn’t deserve you.

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…him being shocked when he found out you out of all people were his soulmate, even though he had liked you beforehand anyways

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him not telling you for a while, deciding to ignore it, he didn’t want to want you.

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… who can’t take it anymore when he sees Chuyya trying to sweet talk you, stepping in and saying he needed to speak to you.

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him telling you he’s taking you out to dinner, to be ready and on time by 8 no later.

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him telling you over dinner that he likes you, more than a friend or worker, he really genuinely liked you

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him internally excited you said yes, finally revealing to you the fact you both are soulmates

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him showering you with luxury items and gifts all the time, the best and nicest clothes, best hair dresser and own personal driver

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… who would kill for you, shooting a 100 men to death because they failed to keep you out of the enemy’s sights

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you traveling with Dazai personally, riding in his private car, jet, anything

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… Dazai wanting to keep you close at all times, feeling as if you are all he has left, the only thing to ground him

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… no longer having the urge to end his life, instead finding a new meaning in you

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… realizes after Odasaku that he needs to be better, he should’ve been better from the start

𝐏𝐌! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… who tells you he’s going to take you away from that life, give you peace, all while you sleep next to him

[diaboliklove]

modern day au where yui cannot catch a break, and things only get worse when her house gets broken into by an angry red headed robber — but instead of taking her things, he takes her heart

yui was having the worst year of her life.

even worse than in 2013 when her father wouldn’t let her go to that taylor swift concert since it was deemed ‘unholy.’

she really thought only taylor could understand her.

but now its 2024, and she’s begun to have adult problems. she’s broke, her heater is broken, her apartment has started to fall apart, she stained her favorite pink skirt with coffee, her phone screen shattered when she dropped it on the train, she ran out of her favorite lip gloss, college bills keep stacking up, her upstairs neighbors never stop engaging in fornication, strawberries are out of season so she can no longer afford them and most importantly —

her father just passed away.

and all she wanted now was to rot in her apartment and ask god for mercy on her poor heart.

“it’ll be okay,” she sniffled back a tear. “father used to say the lord puts us through trials to test our faith.”

yeah, used to.

it was now late night, coming back from her fathers funeral she felt more empty than when she first got the news. her feet hurt from the black heels she now had to walk home in, the black dress did little to give her warmth, her cheeks were numb from the cold weather and having to comfort people with a smile that she’ll be okay, that there was nothing to worry about.

… but yui was already worrying about dinner. also how she’d have to shiver herself to sleep again. she couldn’t allow herself to cry herself to sleep again, her face would be frozen when she woke up, and what if she finds another hole in the walls? tape didn’t work last time, and she’s running out of rags to stuff in between them. and what about her job? she can’t buy more rags without it. they granted her a leave of absence due to her fathers passing, but what if they replaced her? if she lost her job she couldn’t pay rent — and she couldn’t ask for another extension on rent, her landlord was fed up enough with her pleading, she wouldn’t get lucky again. and also —

“no, lets just take it one day at a time. thats right,” she neared the steps to her apartment. “deep breath in, and then out. lets have some canned soup for dinner, and then pair it with rewatching the kardashians. yeah. thats a great plan.”

she turned the corner to her door.

“everything will get better,”

she put the key in the lock.

“as long as i stay positive.”

and she swung her door open —

“shit!”

“AH!”

— right into a mans back.

at first she thought she opened the wrong door. but the faint smell of her candles hit her nose, and her eyes fell on the very TV she watched shitty TV on in the mans arms — and then her eyes landed on a fucking sword on his waist.

her eyes followed it as he dropped her TV from his arms, and unsheathed it from his waist —

— and directed it right in between her eyes.

“empty your fucking purse! ill fucking kill you!”

Oh wow. wooooow.

now you would think the right action would be to do as he said. anyone would listen to a manic man with hair as red as blood, especially when they pointed a sword at you that looked like it came from the 1800’s. its not like yui wanted to die, so maybe she should save her life and sacrifice her beloved tv and the few pennies she had in her wallet.

but instead. her face twisted, and yui broke out in the most ugly open mouthed sob she’s ever done.

it wasn’t out of fear. it didn’t even register how this man genuinely had bloodlust leaking out of him. it was out of absolute frustration and sadness that this was becoming her life — and that she couldn’t even have her dream of watching the kardashians.

she fell to her knees. because, seriously, what the hell did she do to deserve all of this? she was a good kid. never acted out to her father and attended mass even when she had the flu. she never wished bad on anyone. but why does everything always have to end bad? on her 11th birthday her goldfish frank died, when she wanted a coffee last week, her card declined and now she couldn’t even sob into her blankets while she heard kim talking about how rich she was. can’t she have one good day? can’t she —

“holy shit, are you crying?” the red haired man didn’t even move.

yui looked up to him, and just stared at the man’s flabbergasted expression. through her tears, she tried to inhale through her nose, but it came out in little stutters. she extended her purse towards him.

“take it. take everything if you want.” yui spoke through her sobs. its not like anything she really wanted was here anymore.

yui curled up into her knees and rocked herself, continuing to cry hysterically at the thought of just her life. she wouldn’t mind if that man stole everything in her house — material objects could be replaced… eventually. when her eyes started to burn by the amount of tears flooding out, she noticed she couldn’t hear the familiar floorboards creak from movement and her purse was still in her hands. lifting her head to see what was going on, she noticed that the man hadn’t moved from his spot, and just was gawking at her sitting on the floor. they held eye contact for a while, like they were both afraid to move.

sure, yui thought he was a manic. but he probably thought yui was a suicidal manic.

while she held eye contact, she finally really looked at him.

he was fit. wearing a black shirt and a ripped jean jacket, yui could tell he wasn’t bulky, but instead quite lean. his pecs were defined and his muscular abdomen and biceps were flexed against the fabric from welding the heavy sword. his joggers looked worn down, and black nikes seemed like they seen better days. his face was … nice. well sculpted and he had a well defined jaw. his lips were plump and chapped from the chill outside.

what threw yui off was the cacophony that was his hair and eye color. bright firetruck red for hair that looked like he hadn’t brushed it in days, and green eyes fit for only a predator. regardless of the situation, yui could tell he honestly was… beautiful. dangerous. probably looked more attractive if he didn’t have his mouth wide open in awe.

his eyebrows furrowed, and he closed his mouth. he placed his sword back in his sheath, and leaned down to grab the tv from the floor. he looked towards yui again, with a face she could only describe as disappointment. clicking his tongue, he began to drag the tv … not towards the door but towards the tv cabinet.

“this isn’t fun anymore. you can have your shitty shit back.”

placing the tv back in its rightful throne, he squatted down and went through a worn down black backpack — that had some random pins of a band she never heard of — that was on the floor. within it, he took out her favorite necklace, her jewelry box, a couple of her wool sweaters and her damn smart toaster she picked up extra shifts for.

“this is yours. ill be back when you’re mentally stable, you deranged bitch.” he motioned to the items on the floor.

“really?”

the robber rolled his eyes. “of course I will be! do you know how much your toaster —“

“— no i mean. you’ll give it back?”

“you want me to take it?”

“well… i’d like it if you didn’t.”

“then! shut the fuck up.”

he grabbed his backpack and swung it around his shoulder. he started making his way towards the door right beside yui. as he took two steps past her, he paused.

“you’re really broke, you know.”

yui sniffled. “i know.”

“like, broke broke. i don’t think ive ever broke into a house that had so much of nothing. what are you, a level one sim? do you have no hobbies? do you even eat? i see nothing to even munch on here.”

“… i have soup.”

“you literally have two cans of spaghetti-os and tomato soup.”

yui sniffled louder. “i know.”

things were silent for a while. yui was sure the robber was still there, probably reconsidering his decision. she expected him to march back in to take her things again while flipping her off. this entire situation seemed too good to be true… but maybe this could end with her losing nothing... no. she wouldn’t let herself hope for something that was next to impossible in a situation like this.

but something even more unlikely happened.

the robber spoke again.

“do you like dennys?”

“w…what?” yui turned her head towards him.

“dennys. the best restaurant in the world. do you like it?” his face stayed neutral, but somehow the question felt like a threat.

yui feared the honest answer, ‘ive never been’ would end in her getting decapitated. so, she said, “i do.”

“do you want to go get some pancakes?”

it was yuis turn to gawk at him. he looked bored, and slid his hands in his pockets. now, maybe a normal person would say ‘fuck no, its 10pm and you just broke into my home somehow and then tried to steal my beloved tv and lovely toaster then pointed a fucking sword at me… also, i don’t even know your name you creep.’

but yui wasn’t a normal person experiencing normal things right now.

“pancakes sound nice.”

aka, the alternative universe in which two cold hearts find warmth within each other.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Idk if you’re talking requests or anything but the Stockholm syndrome aspect of the devil angel au is so toxic but so sexy like 😭 what if trader finally falls in love and tells them for the first time 😭 the softness of them all making love when she realizes she actually does love them idk I can’t stop thinking about that it makes me physically I’ll in a good way

A/N: a lot of people have been asking for this or something similar. you guys want her to tell them that she loves them, so here you go baby!

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist

“What did you just say?” Eddie froze, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I-…” you blinked, still trying to wrap your head around it. 

“No, no, no, no, no, say it again,” Steve rushed to grab your face, “tell us again.”

“I can’t believe this is happening…”

“But it is happening, right?” Eddie searched your bewildered expression just as intensely as his partner. 

“It doesn’t make any sense!” you gesticulated wildly with your hands, lightly smacking Steve’s chest in the process, “I should hate you, I do hate you. This shouldn’t have worked,” then genuinely asked, desperate to comprehend, “why did it work?” 

“Please, Y/n,” the angel’s thumb swiped across your cheek, urging you to meet his eye, “just say it out loud again and we can let you go.”

“I-…” your eyes found his and you felt your body instantly melt under his warm gaze, “I love you.”

Incapable of being serious for even a second, Eddie quirked up, “but you fell in love with me first, right? It was me that did it?”

“Eddie!” Steve snapped, whirling his head around to glare at the fiend. 

“What? It was a joke! Jeez, lighten up.”

“Guys?” you spoke up, catching their attention before they could grab the chance to rip each other to shreds, “Steve? Eddie?” you one by one grasped their hands in yours, then exhaled deeply before repeating, “I love you.”

Feeling Eddie’s fingers flex around yours, you heard Steve quietly utter, “really?”

Scared shitless, not truly understanding the intense feelings yet, you nodded softly, “really,” confirming the only thing you knew right now to be true. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Closer to You

Since his wife divorced him, A.J. Crowley makes good money writing romance novels. Having his characters fall in love is far less risk than doing it himself, especially while he takes the time to explore exactly who he is and what he likes in the bedroom. Sexual psychology student and cam worker Aziraphale enjoys understanding pleasure. But only from a safe distance. He's too busy working on his PhD to fall in love. The idea of making himself so vulnerable to rejection again is, quite frankly, terrifying. It seems a simple enough arrangement to help each other out, and lend a hand when needed. They are such big fans of each others' *work*, after all.

Length: 44,049 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: At Home, After Dark, Human AU, Comedy

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by TawnyOwl95

*Minor Spoilers* How the hell do you guys keep coming up with the most devilishly good stories?? Here we have Crowley as a romance writer, who is just coming to terms with his queerness and lack of sex life. Aziraphale is a sex researcher who struggles with relationships and lets out steam by performing on cam. This premise really intrigued me because you’d expect the roles to be reversed. Usually Crowley is depicted as the sexual one, and Aziraphale the bookish professor. This story said nah flip the script. This was absolutely delightful. The chemistry was off the charts. They can’t handle 5 minutes in each other’s presence without wanting to devour each other. They are exactly what each other needs and wants sexually, but they'll come to find out it's more than just that. They compliment each other so perfectly intellectually and that's what I love in every iteration! How they can volley ideas back and forth and keep up with each other's wit. Their relationship has great ups and downs, and I was engaged the entire time. The only thing that took me getting used to was Aziraphale as a youngish student. It's in character definitely, but he's not tickety-boo grandpa here and at first it felt strange. The author has a handle on it though, and I bought into this younger Aziraphale fairly quick.

That’s not all there is to this story though. We have excellent side characters with Gabriel, Nina, Maggie, and Warlock all used to wonderful effect. I particularly loved Gabriel, who was so funny in every scene leaning into his Jimbriel side. Warlocks addition proved to be a great plot line too. I was a little worried about that side at first but ended up really happy for his inclusion.

The other amazing thing about this story is that it works as a meta commentary on smut that felt like a mini therapy session for the reader. A big part of Aziraphale’s work, and their discussions, revolve around why people read smut. How it soothes anxiety by redirecting negative thoughts into pleasurable ones. The safety and comfort that smut brings due to the lack of visuals and real world hang-ups. The way it’s cathartic for both writer and reader. It sees us and says, we both know why we’re here let’s make the most of it shall we? Not only was it fun to read in that meta way, it was a genuinely insightful conversation.

Some more word salad to describe this one: bold, mature, thoughtful, hot as fuck, funny, engaging, and did I mention hot as fuck? At home after dark read. I binged this one, you’re going to get sucked into this plot so I’d carve out some time for a single sitting.

Read it here, fic by TawnyOwl95

[bellswlw]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ all the lights (in new york city aren’t as bright as her) pt 1 ⇨ e. williams au

ellie williams x fem!love interest

wc: 9.2k

playlist | masterlist

summary: ellie is known for being non-committed, having a scruffy laugh, her favorite coffee shop, and a reputation when it came to her tattooing abilities and her passion for it. she wasn’t known for love. and she certainly wasn’t the first person you’d think of when it came to finding someone that put all of those things above all else. even herself. but… she was just that.

cw: these are overall themes for the series as a whole. grief, depression, angst, alcoholism, small age gap, -underage- drinking (wine) and drug use (weed), neighbor!ellie, complicated family dynamics, tattoo artist!ellie, written in third POV and love interest is given a name.

a/n: this is for all the hopeless romantics and loser lesbians. the big city lovers and small town fanatics, the ones who look at the midnight sky, the ones who can’t sleep, and the ones who don’t talk about the things that hurt. i see you, and the moon and the butterflies love you.<3

Ellie had never been big on romance; movies, TV shows, and especially dating. She never saw the need for it, and she never really saw the appeal.

She could never picture herself meeting someone just by chance, or some unconventional and hyper-specific reason just for them to end up being the love of her life for a few months and end with an inevitable heartbreak… yeah, no. That wasn’t worth it to her.

Although her friends seemed to have found people in the big apple, Ellie was still the same as she was. Herself.

And that meant being by herself. If not working or hooking up in someone’s apartment or loft or even up in the bathroom of some party, she’s preferably at home lounging about or drawing up sketches on her iPad.

She got around, yes, but she wasn’t a dick about it. She didn’t count on her fingers or keep a list of names somewhere. She just grew an understanding for when someone was giving her flirty eyes from across the room… and had looked up into the same ones that were rolling back while her tongue was grazing that sweet spot of a girl she didn’t even know the same of.

Or in an empty apartment with a roommate ‘out of town’, holding onto the hips of another girl, grinding her against Ellie’s jean-covered thigh.

These encounters were simple. Do-able. Relaxed. Ellie liked that, she’d admit it. Shit, she has.

“So… when can I meet her?” Dina beams from across the table, leaning forward to grab her glass and hold it in her hand, waiting to take a sip until she replies.

Ellie took a swig of her coffee and glared at Dina. “No— Dina, no. You do this every time. You get more attached than I do, and then you bitch at me when I tell you… you can’t meet her. ‘Cuz I’m not seeing her anymore… by the way.”

Her glass meets the table with a low thud, turning the heads of a few other people who were sitting in the outside section of the coffee shop along side the two of them. “What? Why.” the way she said it had an insult attached. Almost to say, are you fucking nuts?

“B’cus. She’s… because I said so. And she wants more than I can give her anyway so…” and she leans forward to lift her cup off the table again just as she feels Dina’s glare marinate in the corner of her eyes, making her flare up with a silent embarrassment.

“I’m not doing this with you. Stop asking to meet my one night stands. ‘Kay?” and Ellie takes a sip of her coffee, the dark rich flavor burning into her tongue like a hot knife.

Dina leans back in her chair, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. “I just think it’s weird. They all like you. Why can’t you just try?” and she sounded a little more genuine this time, her brows knitted together as she tried to find the soft spot in Ellie’s eyes.

But of course it wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t. They’d been hard for years, a rock coating over the emerald green like there had never been an ounce of fondness at all.

“Why try ‘n fix somethin’ if it’s not broken?” And she let the smirk find its way into the divots of her face and soon started relaxing in her chair, fanning her legs like Dina’s words hadn’t nipped a part of her that she wish they didn’t.

“Whatever.” Dina sighed as she rolled her eyes before her phone lit up with a notification, from Alex.

You guys still out?

“It’s Alex.” she says, lifting her phone from its place on the metal table top.

“Figures. Can’t go two seconds without him on your ass.”

That deserved the scoff she gave you. Ellie was being a dick. Her feelings were hurt. But of course, she’d never admit that.

“He wants to know if we’re still out.” she says into her phone, her fingers flying across the keyboard in response.

Yeah, what’s up? We’re at 787.

“Tell him we’re shopping or… I dunno, fucking.” and she laughed, amused with herself of course. She took another sip of her coffee before saying, “Bet he’d get a kick outta that.”

“Dick.” she murmured, and didn’t even look up from her phone.

Ellie just chuckled to herself. She knew it embarrassed Dina, becoming friends with the girl she had a crush on for months and after hooking up at a party… decided she liked her better as a friend. And Ellie liked Dina, and the mouth she had on her.

Muttering under her breath a thousand little “fuck”s while she helped Ellie move her couch up four flights of stairs… or after the job interview she had been stressing over for weeks and had cussed herself home six long blocks… or the time she had gotten so drunk that she accidentally slammed her hand in the door and was screaming strings of curse words while Ellie made her run it under cold water for what felt like 2 hours.

And the whole time… “Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck…”

Just wondering. You wanna come by later tho? Maybe we can talk??

“He said he wants to talk, again. Look.”

Dina is handing her phone over to Ellie as she reads the message, her face forming an unforgiving sneer.

“Tell him to fuck off.” Ellie glances up at her before her brows fly upward with inspiration. “No, actually— I’ll do it.” and her fingers begin to type the message out moments before Dina stands from the her chair to snatch her phone back from her.

“You’re pissing me off,” she admits, typing a reply while reading it back to Ellie.

Can’t. We’re shopping. Soon tho, promise;)

“Winky face?” she said, the look on her face a punch to the gut to Dina’s continuing embarrassment.

“Hey… don’t judge. You should be lucky we’re not actually going shopping.” Dina said with a finger pointing towards Ellie’s chest.

“Awe, we’re not? I thought you were gonna buy me that pink little thong? With the lace?”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m funny.”

“How about… crazy.”

“Witty?”

“Try on my last fucking nerve.”

Dina pushed herself up off the chair across from her, grabbing her things and expecting Ellie to follow suit… but she stayed put.

“C’mon.” she said and jerked her head back just enough to motion for Ellie to stand up along side her.

“I’m good here.” she said casually, resting her arms on the chair, even leaning on the back two legs with a smirk plastered on her face.

God, did she love to fuck with her. It was so easy.

“You’re infuriating, y’know that?” Dina stood there for a moment longer, betting how long she was willing to keep this up before she scoffed and threw up a hand. “Motherfuckin’ asshole,” and walked off with the sound of Ellie lowly snickering to herself ringing in her ears.

She texted her a few hours later, and for a second time that day, Ellie’s face had immediately scrunched at the sight of her and Alex’s messages.

Why can’t you just come over for like a few, just to talk

I’m really busy rn, we can soon tho

When is soon???

Hello?

Dina??

Yeah, I’m here. Idk. My schedule is a lot rn with work. we’ll talk. I’ll text you, okay?

Ellie read the message that Dina sent after the screenshot, firing back instantly.

Idk what to do

Tell him to FUCK. OFF.

But he’s really nice

bro

You literally went on like one date w him and he called you his girlfriend… and made you meet his parents at 7am on a Friday.. HE IS WEIRDDD

Idk

I should talk to him

Dina. U know he doesn’t just wanna talk. c’mon

Ellie’s phone goes stagnant for a new minutes, and she continues scrolling on her phone from the privacy of her apartment and the busted up couch she fell asleep on far too often.

Then another string of messages came in.

Seriously

Help

He’s coming ovsr

Over*

ELLIE

FUCK

Dude I can’t help you

You’re a lost cause

Wear protection or something Lol

Fuck u

Yeah I’d want to if he was the other option too

Sick burn

Yeah yeah I’m sure u will, don’t forget to pick up some Monistat LMAO

She chuckles to herself before there’s a slice of complete silence inside the walls of Ellie’s apartment, bring her back to reality when she finally tosses her phone aside next to her on the couch and slugging herself up and toward the kitchen.

Ellie had never been much of a cook. But then again, she’d never been much of anything, other than an artist. She didn’t like calling herself that though. She thought it was a little tacky and cliché. Artíst. Such bullshit.

But it was who she was. And artist, drawer, sketcher, painter… whatever, it’s all the same. Anyone who can see an idea in their mind and let it leave through the work of their hands is an artist by default.

That’s what landed her the job she has now, tattooing at a shop a few blocks over called InK & Sink.

It’s exactly what it sounds like. Kind of. It’s a place where a group of really high tattoo artists decided to open up a place that was the first tattoo and edible shop all in one place.

The edible shop is on the ground floor, mostly covered in neon signs and a cheesy bakery case near the front with a cash register. Tattooing was down a flight of stairs toward the back, in a renovated basement with the main wall painted a burnt-orange and full of a majority of previous tattoo stencils. And it was all run by a man called Drot. He has what’s left of a Romanian accent, ink covering his head to toe and a love for baking. (And a borderline criminal amount of stand mixers.)

Ellie absolutely loved her job. She loved everything about it. And she meant everything. It made her chest puff up with pride anytime someone came in specifically to get tattoo’d by her. Her work. They loved her work. They saw it online and needed to have it.

She loved talking to customers, and seeing the first timers (regardless of age) relax into her chair for sometimes hours at a time while she listened to their life stories. Knowing people. Learning about so many people. It fascinated her. It made her feel less alone, which she hated to think about, but loved to pretend it was normal to feel the way she did.

She sometimes wished she could record their conversations so she could one day playback all of them and keep them all for herself. The small group of people that she had this connection with, forever. But she obviously knew that was creepy. And weird… and a little stalkerish. But the sentiment was nice.

The pay was good too. She also loved that. And the fact that she had most holidays off. Drot didn’t like being open when it was any time the snow was past the welcome mat either, and he certainly didn’t enjoy the 45 minute drive every morning —especially if there was rain— from the shop to his house.

He was protective of his building, and his customers, and his staff. He loved them like his goddamn family. And as far as he was concerned, they were. His accent wasn’t only, but it was his past too. It was something that he didn’t talk about much, but the ink on his arms told that story well enough.

His parents came to the US from Romania, he was six. And he lived in Utah most of his life, up until high school when he went to Texas for college and stayed until his mid twenties. He met Mia here in New York within the first week… and now they have two kids, close to Ellie’s age.

Or so she guesses, he has their names on the back of his ankles with what Ellie can only assume is their birthdays just below them. She’s only ever seen it once, and has never met either of them. They don’t come around much.

She’s brought back into her kitchen now, the cold buzzing of her fridge sending a chill through her fingers as she pursed her lips together and slowly tapped lazily on the door, trying to decide what to eat.

She needed to go grocery shopping, badly. Her fridge was bare excluding some blueberries that rotted away in the corner, a tower full of sauces, old take out, and a pack of pudding she hadn’t opened yet.

She decided this was her dinner. Four chocolate pudding cups.

Ellie sighed, reaching forward into the cold box and pulling them back with an even heavier sigh. They’d expired. How that is? She had no idea. Seeing as they typically lasted over a year without going bad.

“Shit.” she said to herself, for some reason started looking around the room for something to eat… as if there would be a fully prepared dish hiding itself under all of her unopened mail.

Fuck, she did not want to leave right now. She wanted to stay in, to people watch from her window and then shower and go to bed. She did not want to go ou—

She went out. And she hated every minute of it. From her favorite corner store being closed, to some asshole not knowing how to drive and almost reversed into her… she hated all of it.

But it didn’t stop her from popping into the liquor store on the way back for some beer.

The bell rang above her head, the familiar ring to her reddened ears making her sigh. She didn’t want to let something so small bug her, but her patience was limited on an empty stomach. Probably why she was always fighting to urge to put someone in their place at any given time. Nerves running on nerves. Bone on bone.

“Welcome in,” the cashier said from behind the counter, finishing up checking out a group of kids half her age. Candy and soda and a bunch of other things trickled down into five different transactions. Counting pennie’s and dimes until they could cover it all.

Ellie took a breath in before making her way towards the back of the store, pulling the door open with a shaking hungry hand and grabbing the first 6-pack she saw. Her greedy fingers were wrapped around the cardboard carrier, and soon she was scanning the aisles for something to line her stomach for the night.

She landed on a Heath bar, some Pringles and a Cup-O-noodle. She also grabbed a bag of Skittles at checkout.

“You wanna bag?”

Ellie pulled her wallet from her back pocket and nodded, fishing out a twenty dollar bill as the cashier put her snacks and her form of a sleeping aid in the plastic bag.

She was soon rattling off a “Thank you.” as she stuffed her change into her front pocket and grabbed her things before nudging the door open with her elbow.

It didn’t take her long to crack open the shiny new 6-pack. At the next busied corner, she unclipped her carabiner from her belt loop and took her guitar shaped bottle opener and rather forcefully opened up her drink with a familiar and comforting hiss.

Pulling the glass bottle from its home, she put it to her lips and let it simmer down her throat.

Ellie drank beer, yes. She liked what she liked. She liked not only how it made her feel, but look. She thought it made her seem like the coolest person in the room sometimes. (she’d never admit that of course—although the smirk on her face nearly gave her away every time—) Plus, she wouldn’t be caught dead with a glass of wine in her hand if she could help it.

She hasn’t been drinking for very long (legally that is) and even before then, beer was always her go-to. And most available. It was light enough to make her feel buzzed and a little horny, but if she had a few more after that buzz… she nearly became unbearable.

She could still remember the good parts of the night, and block out the parts where she collapses to the ground with tears pooling in her eyes and curses under her breath until she’s crying so hard that the bottle in her hand fuzzes itself out of her grip with a loud, rippling crash as it hits the ground.

Ellie.

Beer.

They mixed; sometimes.

Tonight, it was the buzz of two to three beers. Her mouth was on the bottle until she stopped dead in her tracks to see a giant ass bed frame tilted halfway into the open door of the apartment diagonal from Ellie’s.

She scoffed under her breath, a low “Fuck,” falling from her lips as she stashed her drink in her bag and dragged her feet down the hall.

Who the fuck was moving in at… Jesus, it was only 7. She was a third of the way to a black out at 7pm on a Thursday, great.

“You have to move it, no— fuck! Seriously?” and that’s when Ellie had actually noticed him, coming out from behind the other side of the frame, throwing his arms up and yelling into the door.

“You have to move it! Don’t just stand there… Jesus Christ,” and Ellie pulls her brows together at the sound of his voice, all the alcohol pouring out of her and into the palms of her hands that had suddenly gone clammy.

She hears someone else, a softer voice compared to the scruffy shouts she had to ring out from her head. She seems upset. And rightfully so. This guy was being a dick.

“Can you just— for fucks sake, I’m trying!” and Ellie then see’s the bed frame shake back and forth with the emphasis of her words. It sent a shock of adrenaline through Ellie for some reason, and it made her spiral with a multitude of thoughts.

This must be her boyfriend, asshole. She should break up with him. Wonder if she likes girls. Wonder if she like’s mascs. Is she even gay? Bet she’s hot, her voice sounds kind of familiar, shit hopefully not… that’d be so awkward. What if it’s not? What if she—

“Dorin, can you fucking stop?! You’re gonna break it!” and she hears that same voice, and for some reason she tries to place it, slipping into the frames of faces she knows. She fails, but god, it was so distinct. So… familiar. She could’ve sworn she’d heard it before.

She was soon drawn from her endless daydream when he—Dorin, she could only guess— looked up at her, finally ceasing to take his hands from the metal and notice her standing there.

Ellie stood frozen in the hall, her eyes slightly widening when she realizes that he can see her, too.

“Sorry,” she spurts, remembering that her legs actually worked and used them to take a tentative step forward.

“‘t’s fine.” and he looks back into the door before taking a step back. He’s glaring inside the apartment, almost as if to say that it wasn’t actually fine at all.

But Ellie couldn’t move. She was afraid to take another step. She didn’t want to have to potentially face one of her hook ups… not if she could help it.

She couldn’t really walk anyways, because the frame was jutting out so far that it had blocked her path just enough to cut off access to her door. “Um, my door… it’s ah, the…” and she motioned her hand forward, god she was so fucking flustered.

He sighed, not even trying to hide his ire from her. “She can’t get by. We’re gonna have to fucking take it apart or something.” and he was leaning against it now.

The sight was an odd one, Ellie watching her new neighbor at a stand still with a gray metal bed frame and talk into his apartment. Even if she weren’t a little drunk, she’d be just as confused.

“I don’t have the directions! I thought you said it’d fit!” and Ellie could see the hazy vision of her set up, just getting ready for a tattoo. She remembered pulling apart paper towels, setting them down with the black haze of her gloves…

And she heard the murmur of her voice —or, someone’s— from what felt like a million miles away. She couldn’t fucking zero in on it. She needed to. She needed to know.

Without thinking, Ellie chirped up, walking a few more steps to see into the living room with boxes hoarding its corners. She couldn’t see her. “Might need to ditch it. These doors suck. ‘t’s gonna shred it.” and she looked to Dorin, trying to gage if he believed her.

She didn’t care honestly, she was fucking starving and needed to get inside her apartment and piece together this nightmare of a voice.

He pauses, looks back through the door and then back to Ellie. “…She’s right. Let’s just toss it. I’m too fucking tired for this right now.” and she can tell when he says it that she’s upset, but eventually she agrees.

And that’s how Ellie ended up tossing that stupid fucking bed frame down those same four flights of stairs until it was a sad pile of metal sitting on the curb.

Dorin had nearly demanded she stay upstairs, saying he didn’t need help, but Ellie wasn’t an asshole. He clearly needed help. In all honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know his left from right.

Okay, maybe she was kind of as asshole. Regardless, she wasn’t the type who just stood by and watched someone struggle to get their footing right when trying to throw a bed frame over the banister of the fourth floor.

Ellie had set down her bag by now, and stepped up to give him a hand. Which ultimately resulted in helping him carry it all the way back down and place what was left of it on the curb for someone to take.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans before reaching out to greet Ellie. “I’m Dorin.”

She glanced down at it before shaking it firmly. He wasn’t expecting, obviously. They never do. “Ellie.” was all she said.

When she climbed the stairs for a third time that day, Ellie had hoped she was standing outside the door or at the least, leaning against it frame before ducking behind a corner like a timid cat.

She wasn’t, of course. The door was closed shut for the night.

Probably for the best. Ellie didn’t want to be up late drawing sketches of her all night, she had work tomorrow. She was opening.

She had actually enjoyed the earlier shifts. Her body was still waking her as soon as the sun had risen, and not to mention… it had helped keep her schedule clear for the afternoons and evenings.

Although, it had been about a week or two since her last… escapade. She hadn’t really known why, but there was a flicker in her sex life that she had a hard time ignoring. Something had threatened to put it out.

She didn’t want to think about that right now. She just wanted to get inside her apartment and let what just happened roll of her shoulders with the help of what was inside her bag.

Ellie eventually trudged down the hall toward her door, unlocking it with a heavy sigh after failing the first two times. “God, dammit.” she swore under her breath before Dorin had come up after her and disappear behind his own door.

She pushed the door open, finally slipping inside. She was so tired all of this sudden. And her body had ached with something so deep that she actually lifted her shirt to feel around her ribs for a mark. There wasn’t one, but she felt it so much that she winced inside every time she took a step around her tiny kitchen.

In the matter of about ten minutes, Ellie was sitting in front of her TV with a styrofoam cup of ramen that had been devoured almost instantly along with an empty candy bar wrapper and an open can of Pringles, leaving her to lay down on her couch with an arm hanging off as she felt herself falling into a light sleep.

A few hours later, after her body had decided to fall deeper into the couch, she jerked herself awake with the sound of her phone pinging her back to the shrilling silence of her apartment. Followed by a starch in the air that was so thick, it had expressed a single dry cough from her.

“Shit,” she murmured, rubbing a hand over the side of her face and the deep marks that had left their presence with a red hue.

She looked down at the screen, reading the time. It was past nine.

I think I just met the love of my life.

He fucking held the door out for me when I was leaving Alex’s building and did that thing you know where they look u up and down

Holy shit fuck oh my god

Ellie blinked before replying, squinting when her fingers flew across the screen to message back.

Oh yeah? Should I order my tux? Do you need a flower girl???

No bc maybe

He didn’t even say anything to me but like in a hot way

Right…

Fuck off

He was hot

I hope he lives in the building maybe i’ll have to see Alex more til i figure out where he lives

Dina that’s fucking insane. How’d that go btw?

I assume he isn’t invited to the wedding??

Jesus, no

I’ll tell u tmrw, what time do you work?

Ellie rattles off her schedule to Dina for rest of the week and the following: four morning shifts and a closing.

She enjoyed working. Probably a little bit too much. But it was a good, stable job for her after all. And plus, it kept her mind busy; which was most important.

Dina replied a minute later with K sounds good before turning her phone on Do not Disturb, the notification popping up at the bottom of Ellie’s screen.

She eventually stands, her jeans suddenly feeling too tight on her legs as she made her way toward the bathroom to lazily peel them from her just before turning the shower on.

Ellie had hated nights like this. The ones that never seemed to end… no matter how hard she tried. Especially when she was fighting remembering. She wanted to forget. She so desperately wanted to forget and let it slip through the cracks of her brain down the shower drain.

But it wouldn’t, of course it wouldn’t. It was far too thick. Like a sludge that has coated the entirety of her before hardening around the biggest parts, cracking and blistering her skin like porcelain.

That’s what she was after all, something so fragile on the inside with a hard shell. And all it would take was some rain to wash it all away, leaving her exposed.

She rattled inside with every step she took, fear seeping through the bottoms of her shoes as if she were walking on eggshells. But can two of the same thing really break each other?

|

In the dead of night, after her hair had partially dried—or begin to sweat— she was gasping against the still air of her bedroom, shooting up from her position to let in small hiccups that somewhat resembled a single breath. Inout inout inout.

Her eyes were wide open, scanning for her darkened surroundings. Feeling around her bed for the blanket that had once covered her, her books on her nightstand, the sleeping pills she never took. And her journal. She felt for her journal and the old cover that was familiar enough to make her feel as though she was thumbing a baby blanket.

You’re home. You’re safe. You’re safe. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1234. 1234. 1. 2. 3. 4.

Her dreams had begun eating her in her sleep again. Always the same one. And always so fucking real.

The next breathe she takes is deeper. Shaky, but long enough to make her rest her elbows on her spread out thighs and pinch the bridge of her nose with one hand. She lets it out, the shaky rattle nearly making her whistle.

She tries to forget. She wants to forget. To um-burn this memory from her brain and fill it with the memories that she is trying so hard to hold onto. The ones she keeps between the pages of her journal, the ones that are marked in ink as to never be erased or wiped clean.

She wants these memories inside her head. To jam pack with good and rid of the bad. Get rid of this stupid fucking nightmare that makes her cry before she even realizes she’s awake.

Ellie tells herself it’s only that. “It’s only a nightmare.” But it wasn’t. Before, it was a memory. Something that has stamped her red anger and blue with sadness to mend a broken purple that no one ever sees.

Her breathing begins to slow, and the loud drum of her heartbeat floods out when she looks out her window to catch a glimpse of the sky.

It always felt so big— so… targeted. But yet she always found herself in this moment with the moon. Watching over her as she tried to sooth herself back to sleep.

She does, (eventually) and soon enough the ringing in her ears fades, leaving her to only hear the sound her shaky ribs are making, listening just close enough to hear them rattle from deep within her chest.

Ellie’s hand reaches out from underneath her covers one last time, making sure she could feel the familiar cracked up material of her book. She fell back asleep just a few moments later.

|

As soon as the moon says goodnight and the Sun begins to wake, as does Ellie. The blinding curl of its brightness makes her squint and throw a hang over her face, smudging her hair to cover her eyes too.

Ellie sighs, letting the sound relish for a minute before throwing her legs over the side of her unmade bed and look for some clean clothes. God, did she seriously need to get her shit together.

She should be more prepared honestly. Having the seasons changed had usually helped, but now it… it had felt different.

Like the sludge wasn’t just just coating over her, but eating her. Letting itself inside to soak through the cracks of her skin as if she was already dead, forming roots from her brittle bones as the earth enveloped her in and drained every last ounce of herself that was left to her name.

Soon enough she finds some pants to wear, a ripped pair of black jeans, torn at the knee. Ellie wasn’t much of a shopper, she rarely bought clothes until they shredded themselves from her body. And because she knew that, she kept her closet filled with identical replicas. Mostly black, but there were a few nice shirts she wore and even a pair of dress shoes.

She never wore those though. She never had anywhere nice to go… still, she had them; just in case.

And as she pulled the jeans over her lose boxers, Ellie had heard the low murmurs of that same voice, and she thought maybe she was dreaming.

But no. She had heard it right. The muffled sound becoming less as she opened her bedroom door to hear her through the thin material of her apartment wall, followed by the striking sound of what Ellie could only guess was her banging —or kicking?— at her own door.

“Motherfucker!” she heard her say, and the way it rang in her ears tunneled so deep she got stuck in her tracks.

It was so fucking familiar. Where has she heard it? This was going to drive her absolutely fucking insane. But she tried to ignore it anyway, finding herself actually shake her head out of the daze and squint when she peeped through the hole in her front door.

She could see her standing there with some of her things including a large cup with a handle and her bag. But… no shoes. Or keys, by the looks of it.

Shit, she thought. That must suck. But where was her boyfriend? Bet he’s passed out. Dick.

Ellie stood there for another moment before the growl of her stomach had peeled her away from the peephole. She made an empty promise to find something on the way to work, knowing she wasn’t going to stop. And that she’d eat on her lunch. Knowing she had over a 2 hour session at noon today.

But this is how it always was. This is what the sludge did. Take and take and take. Give, then take some more… and take a little extra. Just giving her enough to keep her alive.

Eventually though, she finished getting ready. And that meant combing through her hair just to pull it back and doing the same with a T-shirt that hung loose on her cracked ribs. She slid her converse on and grabbed her Ipad and the rest of her things before slipping them into her black messenger bag and out the door.

She tried not to notice how her eyes were glued onto her as soon as she finished locking her door and turned to see the backside of her, and how suddenly she had the urge to pretend she left something inside and climb out the fire escape. Or how fucking pretty she was. Her hair was done nicely— nicer than Ellie’s— and had pieces that framed her face.

Jesus she was getting dizzy. She looked away, hoping she hadn’t seen the utter shock on her face.

Holy shit. Oh my god oh my god ohmygodohmygod.

“Morning,” she said, and it was then that Ellie had to pretend she wasn’t shitting bricks while she stared hard enough trying to get the key out of her door that it might melt under her gaze.

She turned. Played it cool, because this was so cool. Totally nonchalant.

“Morning.” she replied, then, because she was totally chill, she tilted her head up toward her and spoke again. “Locked out?”

She looked down then, avoiding Ellie’s eyes before a dry chuckle left her lips. “Yeah, I uh.. guess you could say that. Think it’s jammed or s’mthing.” she looked embarrassed, crossing her feet that displayed her socks.

Ellie took a step toward her down the hall, trying to pluck her words to form a sentence over the raging sound of her heard pounding inside her chest, threatening to burst right then and there.

“Damn, that sucks. You tried uh…?” and Ellie fell short when she looked her in eye, suddenly losing all the air from her lungs and every ounce of blood from her veins.

Jesus, what the fuck.

“If you’re gonna say opening it, then yes. And I tried my key, it won’t work. I also don’t have my phone.” and it was then that somewhere Ellie knew she should offer to help.

There was a slice of herself that was open, ready to help and offer up her phone to call someone, but it shrunk before her voice had found it’s way up her throat to say it, sinking a thousand feet into the depths of her stomach with a gulp.

“Shit. Well I hope you figure it out.” and she didn’t say another word before making her way past her— ignoring the smell of her perfume radiating off of her and staining Ellie’s nostrils with the hint of honey— toward the stairs.

As soon as she was out of ear-shot, she swore under her breath. “Fuck!” leaving her lips as her feet had stomped down all three remaining floors and onto the street where she pulled a hand down her face with a low groan.

“What the fuck,” she said to herself. She had been a fucking asshole, for no reason. No reason at all. She could go back up there, offer up her phone, shit she’d even give her her own shoes. But she knew she wouldn’t. She knew that. Ellie would move out if it meant never having to go through that again.

And jesus, what had gotten into her? She felt… nervous. But not the same kind of nervous she felt before taking a girls shirt off… Something that felt unfamiliar and uncertain. Like she was about to jump off a cliff with nothing but a paper clip to help crash her fall.

As if she really were falling, and the pavement underneath her feet had shattered and begun giving out beneath her converse. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t.

Ellie snapped her eyes shut for a moment, breathing in the air that had already began warming with the rising sun.

You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re in control. 1234,1234.

She only let herself stand there for a moment longer before she curled her toes inside her shoes and managed to begin walking. Jesus, she was losing it.

|

Soon enough, Ellie makes it inside the door of InK & Sink with a few minutes to spare. She hated being late, but today by some miracle she had actually managed to make it in time. She had an early appointment —just after 9:30– so she had made her way downstairs after saying a quick “Morning.” to Drot in passing.

He waved her off a silent greeting, his phone pressed to his ear listening closely. “And you tried it again? Well… fuck, can’t you just… okay. No. It’s okay, it’s fine.” And he sighed, running a hand over his face just as Ellie had taken her first steps downstairs.

“Hold on a second, hold. Hey! Ellie? C’mere for a minute.” And her lips had tugged in a straight line, just before she wiped it off and let her brows turn ‘casually’ as she made her way back to him, leaning against the archway.

“Would you um, mind working the cash register for a bit? Just a bit… my um.. my daughter locked herself out, she uh… yes I gotta— No, I’m not going to break… yeah, yes, yes. Okay.” And it was then that he looked toward her, waiting for her response that she had failed to form inside her head.

She said something, not realizing until the words echoed through the thunder washing over her ears.

“Uh… I have uh… yeah. Yeah, sure.” and that’s all she said as she watched him say a few more words into his phone before swapping places with Ellie and making it out the door in the matter of about thirty seconds.

His Daughter. His. Daughter. She was his daughter. Oh god she was so screwed.

No. No. That could be anybody, a really weird coincidence. There’s a lot of people in New York, in her building. Not a chance it’s the same person.

But her voice. Her voice. She heard it through the phone. Somebody’s. Someone must’ve given her a phone to use. Fuck. That’d be a nightmare if she’d given her phone to use and her dad’s contact was already there. Jesus.

No, can’t be her. It’s not. Why is this such a big deal? Why can’t you just let it go, roll off your shoulders. C’mon. You’re not gonna get fired for being an asshole to his kid. No way.

This is what the inside of Ellie’s head was thinking the whole fifteen minutes she was working a cash register she had little to no experience working, all while greeting customers and playing Baker in her black head-to-toe outfit.

“$6.24 for ya’.” and she held the small parchment paper bag across the counter, swapping it for cash and pressing for the till drawer.

“Have a good one,” she echoed, just before the door had opened and the soft bell rang in her ears.

“Welc— oh, hey.”

“Hey.” Drot said, dropping his head between his shoulders and chuckling low.

Ellie could see the slow shake of his head with each quiet laugh, and with each second she grew more anxious.

“This mornings’ been interesting, no?” He looked up now, a grin planted on his lips as he patted her on the shoulder that would’ve been hard enough to shatter the bone there if she let it.

“Interesting? Uhh… guess so.”

He leans back against the opposing counter— a little to Ellie’s right, and nods her away from the cash register.

“My daughter. She just moved. Forgot her keys. inside and had no shoes on. No. She had her old keys.” he was smiling at her, inviting Ellie to do so along side him.

She offered up a small chuckle followed by a raise of her eyebrows and a single. “Ah.”

He sighs to himself before standing up straight and making Ellie’s eyes jump up to meet his gaze.

“She’s you’re age. A little younger. You should meet her. She’s… like you.”

“Like me?” and she says it before fully realizing, letting it slip right past her lips.

“Yeah… she uh.. well, you know. Eh, forget it. Go, go.” Drot is ushering her away from his register and toward the small swing king door near the end of the counter.

She grabbed ahold of her bag with a fist, turning to look back at him before she made her way down the stairs.

Like her? What did he mean like her? She couldn’t let herself think on it. She had a job to do. Work to do. She couldn’t let her mind fall out of her head on the clock.

Which is why when she met Dina for coffee after work, she was all Ellie kept thinking about.

“And then— while he was fucking on top of me he tells me he loves me?! Like are you kidding? So then after that I was li— Ellie, are you listening?”

She wasn’t. Her eyes were narrowed in on the small lights that were strung up above both of their heads, counting and watching the bulbs flicker until she was blinking back into reality when she heard her own name.

“Yeah, yeah. I am.” and she clears her throat and shakes the thought of her out of her head.

“What’d I say?”

“He said he loved you… like a fucking weirdo.” and that cracked Dina a little bit. Before she collected herself and took a sip of her drink.

“What? Like I’m wrong? Alex is weird; and I mean that in every extreme way possible. Yeah sure whatever he’s ‘nice’… but Dina. You can do better. You know you can.”

“I— I feel guilty okay?”

“Don’t! You shouldn’t. I’m serious.”

“Ellie…” she tilts her head with a stare.

Ellie does the same, mimicking her time when she says: “Dina. Really though. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, but I’m not giving you that ego boost.” and she shakes her head as she leans back into her chair.

Ellie smirks. “You already did.”

|

They sit outside bickering back and forth like this for another hour, cracking jokes and mostly pissing Dina off while Ellie spreads her legs wider to try and fight the shake she feels inside them. She was running on this coffee alone, and it was starting to finally become noticeable.

“You cold or something? You’re shaky.” Dina has her forearms pressed against the table, leaving the pattern against her skin when she reaches across to try and feel for herself.

Ellie pulls back when they make contact, shrugging her off with denial. “No. I’m good.”

“You eat today?” and the pull in her brows is one that Ellie doesn’t like.

But she laughs it off, tries not to notice how shifty and full she’s filling with guilt alone. “Yes, mom. I stopped somewhere this morning.”

“Ellie… it’s after four.” and she looked away from her to reach inside her bag for something— her wallet. “Here, let me—”

“I have money. I’ll just go get something inside. That make you happy?” Ellie was already planting her feet on the ground before Dina could answer, and she was pushing back from her chair to make her way inside to order.

She was pissed at herself. Pissed that her hands we’re shaking so badly at only 4 o’clock, that Dina had noticed, that she hadn’t noticed and can’t make them stop.

She’s also pissed because she wasn’t watching where the fuck she was going, and she bumped right into someone hard enough to spill their coffee on the tile.

She’s reaching out to land a hand on their arm before drawing her feet back away from the forming puddle. “Fuck, I’m-”

Her. It was her. Ellie’s eyes are glued onto hers, noticing the deep hazel and the mascara on her lashes. And her wispied bangs that fell a little too perfect on her face. And her face; she noticed her face. The three freckles that connected around her right eye in a constellation of a tria—

“You’re good…” she said, dipping her eyebrow in recognition. “Oh, hey. It’s you.” and she goes to point a finger, but her arm is still in Ellie’s grasp.

Ellie let’s go when she realizes. She didn’t even notice it there at first, but now, the feeling is vast and leaves her bicep with a map of goosebumps. Almost like Ellie had taken the heat right from her and placed it into her cheeks that were the color of a ripening tomato.

When her hand falls, Ellie lets the scene before her unfold for a moment. Taking in the spilled drink on the floor— and noticing she finally a pair of on. Without thinking, she tells her that.

“Finally got shoes on huh?” and she looks down at her own feet, wearing a pair of black Dr Martens that had now made her an inch or two taller than Ellie.

A little confused, she agrees. “Yeah, I do.”

And for some reason —unknown to her— Ellie perks up to specify. “From this morning. No shoes… You were uh, locked out…”

Soon there’s recognition in her voice, making her eyebrows raise and a laugh to stumble from her lips as she speaks. “Oh! Yeah… yeah, I got in. Yeah. Surprised you remembered honestly. You seemed.. in a rush.”

There’s a beat. One serged with electricity that would shock the two of them if they touched.

“Sorry.” Ellie says. She can’t help but wince when she says it.

She looks at her, still lost in the conversation. Ellie doesn’t know why she keeps fucking this up. Even when she’s apologizing.

“About your coffee. And this morning… and last night. I was an asshole. I— I don’t know why I did that. I don’t- I’m not usually… like that.” Liar.

She waves Ellie off. The ring on her middle finger glistens against her hand when she moves into a sunspot. “No worries. Shit happens.”

Shit happens? She thought about it for a second. Yeah. Shit does happen. No worries.

“Still. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I swear I’m not always that… much of an asshole.”

She laughs a little. “Sounds like something an asshole would say.”

Ellie pauses when she says this, a little struck by her words; a little guilty. It doesn’t last long when she breaks and says: “I’m fucking with you. Everyone’s a little bit of an asshole sometimes.”

To this, Ellie actually sighs in relief. She fucking sighs. Just fucking with you.

“Right. Well.. I feel like one. Do you want another drink? On me.” she’s pulling out her wallet from her back pocket before she can even object.

She takes a moment to consider it; furrowing her brows in thought before she begins to actually… grin. “You always buy your neighbors coffee?”

Ellie’s cheek swell with a red hue she is hoping to hide with a snarky remark. “Only the cute ones.” she shoves one of her shaky hands in her back pocket.

She blows a breath from her nose, a half-laugh. “So you do this pretty often then huh?”

“Nah… you’re the first.” and that’s true. She’s never done this before.

Of course she hasn’t. Because if she had— she wouldn’t be so fucking nervous.

“Lucky me then.” and she pauses, looking at Ellie for a beat… almost like she’s hesitating. Almost like she’s waiting for Ellie to make a move.

The moment passes, and she pipes up again.

“Well, what if I wanted to buy you coffee?”

Ellie shifts in her stance. She was getting lightheaded, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was starving… or flirting in the middle of a coffee shop with her brand new neighbor. Who was also her employer daughter. (Possibly.) [Definitely, without a doubt.]

“Why would you wanna buy me coffee?”

“Do I need a reason?”

She’s faultering, cracking and smudging, about to melt into a puddle next to this spilled coffee that was soaking into the grey tile. “…No. Guess not.”

She smiles. And of course it’s incredible. “Alright. Good. So, what do you want?”

“Well what do you want? You gonna let me buy you something?”

By now, she is reaching over to grab a handful of napkins, crouching down to begin wiping away the mess.

“Eh. I’ll think about it.”

Ellie scoffs. She shakes her head. And she can’t fucking believe she’s doing this in broad daylight.

But… what was she doing? She’d flirted in public before, and she’d done even more than that.. so why was she getting so shy? Why was the sludge melting away with the heat of her cheeks and the sweat of her palms when she reaches to grab some tissues and begins to help clean up.

And because Ellie is secretly terrified this feeling will go away.. she fights to make more conversation. “Sorry about your bed. The doors are pretty shit.”

She mops up her drink, wadding up the napkins and tosses them without standing. “It’s alright. I kinda fuckin’ hated that thing to be honest. It was a bitch to put together.”

She’s watching Ellie, her slender fingers and shortened nails were a sight. And this Ellie could pick up on. The sudden feeling of her eyes darting down to watch this very mundane but intimate moment.

Jesus, it just felt like the two of them.

Like the world had fallen away, the music muffled out, chatter quieting to a white noise. The only thing Ellie saw was her. She could feel the scratchy material of the brown napkin and the weight of her hazel eyes on her movements.

It was so… bold. So full and alive. Light. Simple. Delicate.

Ellie had to say something. Shit. Her brain was scattering with her eyes on her. Her neighbors eyes on her. Her neighbor who had a boyfriend. Maybe.

Fuck, it didn’t matter… she had to stand back up and make sure she didn’t pass out from whatever was going on.

Eventually she does, straightening her knee’s from her squat and adjusting her jeans that had rode down to reveal her boxers underneath.

Ellie is standing and looking down her feet when she notices the coffee has stained the laces of her shoes.

Not that she minds, they were already dirtied from wearing them everyday; that was a given. And even if she did mind: Shit happens. No worries.

From the corner of her eye she see’s her stand back up too… and it’s then that she realizes she never asked her name.

So she does.

Her head is shooting up with the thought, rushing to find her eyes that were already looking at Ellie. Her hands go clammy again. God.

“I uh, I never.. Oh my god I can’t even talk. What’s your name?” and Ellie shakes her head with disbelief. Her game is way off.

She laughs. Not mean, Ellie can tell. She cracks a smile when her eyes line with a shine from the sun.

“Poe.”

Poe. Poe. Poe.

It had suited her better than she had even begin to think, slotting it into place and sighing when it clicked there.

“Cool, cool. I’m Ellie, by the way.” she breathed out something pathetic, a sliced up nervous laugh.

But Poe was smiling at her, Poe.

Poe… was smiling at her.

“Nice to meet you, officially.”

“Yeah, you too.”

The thick hum in the air felt like a barbed wire, zapping Ellie’s skin when Poe spoke up again.

“So, Ellie, you gonna buy me some coffee or what?” and the grin on her lips was wide enough to make Ellie slip from the reality back into their banter.

So much so that she’d completely forgotten about Dina, leaving her to text Ellie a string of messages and a pissed tone scorching through the screen.

But Ellie couldn’t be worried. Because Poe was sitting in Dina’s freshly abandoned chair. Smiling.

At her.

She was so fucked.

|

Later that night— after Poe had made her order some gluten free lemon poppy bread (which Ellie said: “Shit tastes like dirt. Dirt if you pissed in it.”) and then laughed at her when she tried to wash it down with her coffee but ended up with a mouthful of what tasted like burnt shit.

Then offered up her own drink to be told it was “Milk and ice. A shittier version of vanilla ice cream.”— Ellie had made it home and was tucked into her bed with her journal and pen.

Her hand was scribbling across the page, racing her brain for the details before they slipped and tugged through the cracks after sleeping on it.

She fills up another page, talking about all the things that choke up her sobs… and finally sketches a dragon on the back, covering up the nightmare from last night— soaking it into the scales of the monster.. letting it’s fiery breath burn the memories that fuel the rot in her brain.

Ellie sighs before she wipes her face with the back of her hand, pulling the cuff of her sweatshirt over her palm and sniffling.

The routine is coming to a close when she sets her journal back on her nightstand and gets to her feet, trudging to the bathroom to get ready for bed and make sure she is still the same person in the mirror.

It never comforts her when she see’s herself… part of her hopes that maybe, just maybe, that one day she will flip the light switch and won’t recognize herself.

But of course she does. She knows the freckles on her face and their placement on her skin, the scar on her temple, her stoned over green eyes; turned dark and cold over the last few years… she see’s it all, and she wishes she didn’t.

She see’s something else that night… when she’s asleep in her bed after the clock passes 1AM.

She see’s Poe, standing in her doorway, with her hands crossed over her chest and a closed lipped smile across her face. She was the moon, and she was brighter than all the lights in New York City.

[pearl-blue-musings]

all the right moves ch 6

I told you I was gonna post something tonight!!

Pairing: Childe x fem!afab!reader

Warnings: 18+, business au, smau, written, nothing too crazy this chapter

Word count: 1.3K

Y’all it’s happening!!

You hadn’t meant to snap at the girls in the chat. You truly hadn’t. When she had found your location, you were scoping out the coffee shop near the recreational center and debating about the help wanted poster but didn’t have the courage to enter. A couple days later, you’ve ended your shift at the rec center, leaving with a tense aura, and make your way over toward the coffee shop. Your eyes scan the building that holds your idle anger and drive for doing what you do, and quicken your pace past it.

You’re tempted to throw up a middle finger but you restrain yourself and walk on, resume in hand. You take in the atmosphere of the coffee shop, huffing your breath at the hippy yet upscale vibe the store gives off. It’s certainly targeted to young and middle aged business people and you vaguely think of the possibility that you’ll run into anyone from Snezhnaya corporation. The thought sends mixed signals to your head and stomach. The first thought of wanting to tell any of those workers off for daring to work in such a terrible place. On the other hand, you realize what would be the point if they have no idea who you are?

The mere concept of letting any random worker know who you are ignites your nerves. There’s too much of a possibility of one of those grunts running and telling Signora or even worse the Tsaritsa herself. She’s just the CEO of a company, why can’t they call her that? Does she have some secret plan for world domination through conglomerates? Your plan must be kept in secret, your carefully calculated and thought out plan that has consumed you for more than half your life. You were so close, there’s no way you can back out now, you’ve sacrificed too much, worked too hard to turn back and give up now. You take a deep breath before approaching a barista and inquiring about the sign in the window.

****

You leave the coffee shop in high spirits as you huff out a warm breath. You know this isn’t a good idea, but you need the money and what the Kamisato siblings don’t know won’t hurt them! Of course they care for you deeply and worry about your mental health… But they don’t understand. They have the financial stability and backing. They have the ability to do whatever they want.

Their parents weren’t corrupted by business, so how would they understand? How would they get your plight and all of your struggles? Had they had to miss out on having an average teenage and early 20’s life? You didn’t fucking think so. They get to live in their above average houses with above average clothes and-

A strong and firm body halts your progress and you fall hard on the concrete. Well, not so hard as your hands are held by the someone you ran into. “Hey, are you okay?”

You had your eyes closed in preparation for impact and slowly open them to striking blue ones. The man’s red hair is a stark contrast with his pale skin and bright eyes. His smile seems genuine as he pulls you up to your feet. Warmth spreads through your palms and now up your cheeks. The stranger chuckles again as you silently stare at him.

You shake your head and blink rapidly. “S-sorry, I had a lot on my mind and wasn’t paying attention. Is your uh,” you look him up and down, “suit damaged, um…?”

The man drops your hands to politely extend out his hand. “Childe, with an E at the end. Don’t let the name fool you, I’m anything but childish.” His introduction causes you to giggle and relax, meeting his hand in a nice handshake. You’re about to introduce yourself when a large crowd of business people burst out of the headquarters of Snezhnaya, almost knocking you out of the way. Childe acts on instinct and pulls you into him to keep you from the huddled bunch. He knows his own coworkers can be standoffish and uptight, but to brush past him like that?

“Unbelievable.”

Childe’s own thoughts are interrupted from the loathing in your voice at the word he was thinking. He quirks his head toward you and sees your pretty face scrunch together in malice. Once the crowd of suits disperses you fix your face as soon as you realize Childe is staring at you. “Ah, sorry.” The world around you seems to vanish as the feeling of sheepishness rises within you as he chuckles again.

“Heh, guess you don’t like corporate folks like me?”

You shake your head. “No it’s not that. I just don’t like…that company in particular.” Indigo irises follow your line of sight to see the building he works in everyday. Interesting. He’ll have to ask you about it someday, if you even want to keep talking to him that is. He’s also secretly hoping you don’t notice the way he hides the label on his briefcase from your eyesight.

You visibly ease up as confusion racks upon his face. It’s not very common for people to outwardly say they dislike one of Teyvat’s strongest and most influential conglomerates. You try to shake off the weird feeling he’s been giving you from the beginning and check your watch. Although you’re not scheduled today, you do need to drop off some things at the rec center. Childe quirks an eyebrow and gently asks, “something wrong?”

“I’ve got to go drop off something at where I work. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh do you?” This has got to be his lucky day. Ever since he saw you from a far a few weeks ago he’s been dying to try and see you again. He’s not going to miss out on this opportunity. “Well if you’re up for it, you mind if I walk you there? Who knows if random suits try stomping all over you.” His teasing tone is infectious and you laugh in response. You concede and start walking ahead of him. You turn your head over your shoulder and motion for him to follow. He’s not going to miss this opportunity and trots up to you.

The walk to the rec center is pleasant and enjoyable, something you think you can get used to. Childe’s presence is calming, yet leaves you curious about who he is and what her intentions are. He walks with you toward the side entrance and the two of you pause. Childe shifts between his feet as he’s unsure of how to proceed. You clear your throat and hold your things tighter to you. “Well,” you emphasize the last letter, “I guess this is where we part ways.”

For once, you don’t want this interaction to end. How long has it been since a stranger, let alone a man, kept your attention for this long? You pull out your phone, opening it up to new contact and shove it in his face in an attempt to hide the warmth rising to your cheeks. “H-here,” you stammer out, “in case I get bombarded with suits again. I might need your help.” Childe eagerly takes your phone with a genuine smirk and inputs his number. Your fingers touch briefly as the device is returned to you. It’s not lost on you that his touch, although brief, sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. You shove your phone back in your pocket, quickly wanting to take it out once more.

You begin to walk away as Childe stands there patiently until you get inside. He runs a hand through his hair and laughs cathartically to himself. He gasps when he realizes, “wait, I never got your name!”

You turn around with a sly smile and yell out, “I’ll text it to you!”

Taglist: @zireaels-igni @ilydottie

[havockingboo]

5 am projection au cause I couldn’t sleep last night

More info about Projection AU

Gaster disappears for days for work and it’s the only days where sans and papyrus feel at peace. Well, mostly sans, he loves being alone and having the house practically to himself. But, Papyrus, he’s always anxious about something. He feels as the older brother, it’s his responsibility to do things around the house and not rest. Even when he just relaxes once, his thoughts attack him with “You should be doing something productive, stop being lazy, what would dad think of you? Have you done this? Have you done that?” What’s so bad about this is most times, he can’t even bring himself to physically do chores that he has to do. And Papyrus hates it, he feels like his own body is betraying him while his own brain is blaming it on him for not moving and making him feel lazy and useless. Papyrus has actually gotten a bit better with this crazy “work and no play”. Thanks to his good mom friend, Undyne!! The thoughts never left, he just learned to deal with it and even just forget sometimes of what he should be doing. But Papyrus also hates that he’s extremely forgetful. Like why can’t he remember certain things? Why does he immediately forget to do things the moment he turns his head to something else. It’s frustrating!!

Sans doesn’t care, he’s learned way too quickly that doing things is just pointless. Like why do this? What good will it do? He doesn’t understand why his brother cares so much about stressing his ass off all day to things that won’t really matter in the end. I does know one thing though: his older brother is a damn people pleaser. Sans isn’t really the most emotionally supportive brother but, he’s willing to ‘lend an ear’ if his brother ever needed it. Hell, that lanky idiot needs SOMEBODY around here to tell him he doesn’t owe anybody nothing, just a reminder for Papyrus that not everything matters and it’s okay to just take a damn chill pill.

But, of course, that kind of is why they can’t get along either…they literally both have different views of how the world is, what that feel like it means, why things are the way they are. To care or to not care, optimism vs pessimism. Hope vs Doubt. It’s kind of why it’s hard for them to get along sometimes if they ever had a full conversation about serious things, cause different opinions and such. They both think their right, especially Papyrus. If his way isn’t right, then that’s just an attack on what he considers ‘normal’, the ‘right way’. What really gets on Papyrus nerves is that he can’t make his brother understand! He tries so hard to make his words go through his brothers head, telling him things do matter!! You can’t just give up on things, how can someone just give up?? Yeah. They just, really butt heads cause they just can’t understand each other.

However, it’s also can be a good strength. It’s good to have someone that thinks differently from you. Sans always helps Papyrus to get his head straight when he’s just thinking dumb that don’t make sense, just the right person to just be blunt with him and tell it to him straight. And Papyrus needs that!! He constantly needs a reality check about how things are, especially that some things in his life aren’t “normal”, or shouldn’t be considered normal. And Papyrus is there to help Sans understand other people, on a more emotional level. Out of genuine curiosity, he wants to understand why people just do certain things. And Papyrus is there to tell him that people just want to!! People make decisions because it was emotionally driven. Sans isn’t void of emotions himself, he’s got a lot bottle up, he’s just…either too tired to really show how he feels or just feels like he does show how he feels but people still take as him looking like some sort of asshole which he’s not!! He just has a resting bitch face. Like I said, it’s a bit difficult for Sans to be empathetic, that’s more of his brothers thing.

[good-beanswrites]

Eheheh! The anon who sent the ask on the Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins here! Happy to hear you like the silly thought I made up, bonus on making a small drabble on it! So happy! >w<

So I guess when Mikoto's condition is revealed during his first interrogation, everyone's like "Ooooooh that's why..." over it. And uuuuuuh, does Kotoko feel bad for bashing Mikoto back then? I think it's not scripted according to that post you made back then, but no hard feelings between them, right? And I guess Shidou wouldn't be happy that the prisoners are getting into actual fights ;;

I really did! :D Thank you so much for reaching out, I love hearing people’s thoughts and ideas!!

I'm always very committed to keeping any canon hatred accurate -- I won't sugar-coat a relationship that has been stated to be terrible. However. This is not canon, and I am employing every fix-it in my arsenal >:3 So yes, there are absolutely no hard feelings between them and after every trial they hang out and make up!!

It pains me that all the violence in Mikoto’s interrogation has to be real, but yeah, neither of them pull any punches. Of course Red doesn’t want to hurt Es, but I picture all the prisoners really driven by the desire to tell their stories. Unlike in canon, the au characters are very aware that they’re going to represent a larger social issue/group of people. So when Mikoto is instructed to really sell it, he does it for the sake of accurate experiment results for others like him – and clings to the trust that Es signed up for this. 

And Kotoko’s interference is such a core part of her character: she’s observant, she’s clever, she’s used to and skilled at breaking rules, and she’s such a protector, even to the person who’s holding her imprisoned. It felt unfair to take that away from her by making it something Milgram scripted, so her reaction had to be real and just as violent ;-;

Okay so you know when you’re playing a game with friends/family and you feel very real anger at them for their decisions/actions? Then after it ends you can cool off and acknowledge it was just a game and there’s no hard feelings at all – but you can still clearly remember what made you upset and know it was valid? That’s what I'm picturing when the prisoners write their t2 plans. Kotoko’s anger towards the guilty prisoners is genuine by the end of the first trial. She’s very hurt that Mikoto wouldn’t tell them the truth about himself, after all the secrets they’d collectively shared. She’s disgusted by the others’ actions. She’s not actually planning on beating them up, but she recognizes she kinda wants to lol. Amane does hate Shidou. Yuno is tired of everyone. 

But a few days after the first trial ends, they start interacting in a setting that isn’t immersive anymore. They’re able to relax and talk through everything with clear minds. Kotoko apologizes profusely for hurting Mikoto during the interrogation, admitting that she’s not entitled to anyone else’s secrets. Amane apologizes to Shidou. She may not be as friendly to him as he was hoping, but she tells him that she understands they live under different codes and she shouldn’t hold hatred in her heart. Yuno gets a bit of time to refresh herself while they’re debriefing and collaborating with the writing team. She’s excited to be around the others by the time filming starts up again. Anyone who has anger towards Es lets it soften, feeling bad that they’re allowed to get a fun break while Es must remain asleep.

And I think Red and Kotoko would actually get really close in the au, despite their rocky start! They have very similar ideas on protecting the people they care about and being disgusted by those who abuse their power. Koto-koto duo is real!! 😤I can’t say for sure because so much could change in t3, but I’m hoping to write the two of them bonding over being labeled “the scary violent one” and slammed with a guilty vote next time ;-; 

If anything, Blue is more upset that she attacked Red than he is himself. (“That was our interrogation, what was she even doing there?”) And like you said, Shidou doesn’t want anyone to get hurt for real, so he pleads with them to keep their violence as staged as possible, going forward. He’s also extremely upset with Milgram that they’d let Es get hurt (since he’s the one who treated them afterwards). It takes such long time to assure him it won’t happen again, and that it was a one-time twist that Es signed off on beforehand.

Although I think the violence is going to get worse during this next hiatus, the au characters will actually feel less emotional, in my mind. After doing this for so long, I'm sure it would get easier to regulate which emotions are real and which result from too much immersion -- so there will be less to apologize and make up for this time, they're already very close and happy :')