#it. because it used to be such a point of contention within my friend groups. i think being an adult is half of the equation

[box16]

louis wain was right. i am happy because everyone loves me

[etoilesbienne]

re: boundaries

I've made many posts previously on this subject already, so people are already aware of my stance regarding disliking the way "boundaries" as a concept are used by the mcyt fandom, however I want to have a brief meditation on why this is the case, and a look at common arguments about them.

however i do want to make clear that i don't mind boundaries as a concept, actual boundaries. as in "if you do x, i will respond with y" kinds of boundaries. I think cc are completely fair and understandable in this kind of perspective. if someone makes a kind of content they dislike, they're free to block that fan or express discomfort over it. That's normal.

my critical eye is turned toward the fandom's perception of "boundaries" as a sort of fandom ruleset, either you follow them with the in-group, or you're thrown in the out-group and labelled all sorts of insults, anywhere from a criminal offender to just having people be plain nasty toward you. this in my opinion, really feeds into the fandom habit of having "cliques" as fandoms are social networks that are voluntarily joined. i find it juvenile at best.

at worst, on the other hand, is the concept of mcyt having mixed in kpop stan culture around 2019 with smplive (great server. horrific fandom at the time it was run. all of the smplive fans still left are veterans worthy of respect for surviving that.), which caused a very explosive mixture.

kpop fandom has this outlook and parasociality toward idols because these idols are borderline unreachable. even in smaller groups, companies generally (not always.) discourage idols from talking one-on-one selectively with fans. there deserves to be a more thorough examination of kpop fandom with stan culture, that i believe i am not fully qualified for. my point is that kpop idols are a hell of a lot harder to reach for english fans, whether through language barrier or through professionality done by companies.

the explosive mixture is bringing this same mentality - the mentality that these people you look toward as the main source of the fandom as being untouchable, perfect people. it's dehumanizing in its own right, but aside from that, it creates a dangerous fandom situation. as best shown using smplive with CallMeCarson from before.

CMC is the origin point of boundaries within the MCYT fandom, having held a live in fall of 2019 talking about how a popular danganronpa themed wattpad smplive fanfiction was upsetting for him to read. CMC had an intense fanbase that could and would look up to him no matter what. of course the fanbase would go after and harass this author off of the internet and deleting their work (which remained lost media until this January of 2024. Almost half a decade.) after this situation, only months later it comes out that CMC had in fact been manipulating women aged 17 to early 20s, into sexual dms and sending him explicit photos of themselves for around a year. i am of the opinion CMC would have done this behavior regardless, however, the fact he had access to so many women who put him on a pedestal without considering he could exploit them was exacerbated by the stan culture mentality of mcyt's fandom at the time. this is not a criticism of the women, it is a criticism of the fandom culture of the time for failing to treat carson as a human being who had every capability to treat people like this.

no cc is exempt from that mentality by the fandom. carson knowingly used his position within the fandom to make the choice to do that to those girls. no cc should be exempt from the real possibility of the consideration that they can fuck up, not always in the way that they necessarily need to be cancelled or deplatformed, carson is an extreme example that is absolutely not representative of cc as a whole, but there needs to be a healthy level of doubt and separation between creators and fans.

to reiterate: cc are not your friends. cc do not need you to speak for them. you do not know these people personally. to present your defense of them and their personal opinions like you spoke to them directly and are close friends is dangerous, both for yourself, and for other fans in the community.

everything i have listed is why i always will be critical toward any fan group or clique that presents themselves as being pillars of the community, and why i am critical of any page or resource that tries to list "boundaries" as hard fast rules to be self policed by the fandom. not only is that punitive mentality, it's careless and poor understanding of how communities at large work.

i don't think a "boundaries" list is necessarily a bad idea in the long run either, if these lists were, like, compilations of streamers' twitch chat rules, that'd be cool! but generally these lists lack any nuance of why and where some boundaries may apply. like a ton of streamers hate ships being spammed in chat, but could give less of a fuck about people making ship fanart. or like wouldn't care as long as the ship art isn't put in their main tag.

as well as the general ignoring of regular boundaries, we all remember the horror show of people dono-ing to cc in 2020-22 asking for their boundaries right? like just so we're explicitly clear, walking up to someone and asking what someone's opinion of making adult content of them is very much sexual harassment. that's objectively something fans should not be asking to cc. if they want to say something, they can speak up on their own. they do not need your prompting. if you wouldn't ask it to your boss in an office, don't ask cc it. tangentially related is the ignoring of boundaries based on disliking fans harassing each other or other cc. those boundaries never get to be prioritized for a reason, as those behaviors feed into the stan culture mentality of pitting sources against each other in fan wars.

parasociality and stan culture turn mcyt fandom into a power vacuum where fans who like to self-police to a dangerous extent try to take charge. this makes the fandom worse.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 5

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n apparently it has been 28 days since the last chapter, but the good news is i now have 4 chapters written in advance so january at least will have content. for those who haven't seen the random announcements on my blog, i've been sick and honestly probably will be again in january so your patience is appreciated, and i'm sorry, i'm not usually this sporadic with a project like this! to my editing team, who are feeling betrayed seeing this surprise chapter in their notifications, my chrissy new years gift to you is not asking for edits in the holiday season, roast me in the chat if anything is wrong (keeps, that last part doesn't apply to you)

previous | masterlist | next

---

Even as you knock on the door to the studio, you're nervous.

Maybe you shouldn't be; it's been nearly a month exactly now, and you're fairly sure at this point that none of the boys hate you, though calling some of them friends has been easier said than done. Maybe that's why you're nervous in the first place, because it's been so long and you're still unsure where you stand within the group, especially with the one you're supposed to meet now...

It's not your fault. Well, maybe it is a little bit - you're aware that you're struggling to relax in their company, the way you had with the girls in Midnight or other trainees. But your schedules are so different too, you only see the others in practise, or in passing in the halls. Some days you practise on your own, while they are off on one schedule or another, living the life of idols that have built up their name, other days only half of them are there. Sometimes there is no dance practise scheduled at all, their own individual lessons or other commitments taking precedence.

It won't be like this forever, you just keep telling yourself. Three weeks more, and then you debut with the rest of them, and you're part of the group for real. Three weeks of hard work, and then, maybe, it gets easier.

Maybe. You've thought that before, only for an opportunity to slip away through your fingers. You wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.

The door opens - Chan, leaning over from his chair to tug on the door handle before he returns to his desk. "Come in," he says warmly, an arm gesturing you towards the couch behind him. It's already occupied by Changbin, who makes you smile when he gives you a hello and a wave. "Sit with me," he says, in Korean and then again in broken English, patting the cushions. "I'll be quiet, I promise."

You're reminded suddenly of how loud he can be, during practises or even when everyone is just sitting around, but you hesitate to mention it, sitting quietly beside him instead. "You can tell him to leave if you want," Chan adds, his back turning to his laptop. "He's not actually here for anything important."

"I'm here for emotional support," Changbin claims, only he puts on such a voice as he says it that it makes both of you laugh. "It's an important job."

"Okay, well." Chan's hands spread, like he doesn't have any say in the situation. "If you don't need support, you can tell him to leave."

"He can stay," you answer readily, and you don't really doubt your answer at all. Out of all the members, Changbin has been one of the friendliest; he'd been so warm and accepting on your first day, and gone out of his way in days since to talk to you or pull you into a joke when you were on the outskirts watching. Even if he was only doing it because you looked pathetically out of place among them, you appreciated it. 

"Cool," Chan says, and then he shifts in his chair like he's uncomfortable, his eyes straying towards his laptop momentarily. "So. I wanted to talk to you about the comeback."

"I figured as much," you reply, aware that your hands are fidgeting nervously in your lap.

Chan's mouth opens, like he's going to say something, and then he hesitates, glancing away again. Apprehension rises in your throat, bitter like the taste of bad coffee as you swallow it back down again. It's one thing if you're nervous - but if he is unsure about what he's about to say too, then it could be-

"I've thought about it, and I've decided that you're not going to debut with us on this album."

Bad.

Your heart stops and then starts again, your chest tightening around your lungs even though you've heard this story before. It shouldn't even surprise you by now, the let-down; thinking you might have now, finally, done the work and reaped the reward, and yet every time you seem to let the hope creep into your chest just so that you can crumble twice as hard. You hadn't even realised you'd become this married to the idea of joining Stray Kids in the last three weeks, and yet the idea of getting dropped again hurts like a pain in your chest.

This was your last chance. No one else will debut you. The world isn't that kind of kind.

"Okay," you say, through a jaw that feels like it won't move enough to form the words. "It's - I understand. I'm sorry that I couldn't do it."

"Hang on," Chan says, a hand hovering between you like he's ready to catch you if you turn to leave. "Just hear me out - it's not that you're not good enough, okay? I just think it will help you if we wait a little bit longer, and the company were happy to agree."

"You've worked hard," Changbin says beside you, his face earnest. "No one thinks you can't do it."

"No," Chan agrees. "I'm just looking at the timeline, and the schedule they've drawn up for you, and I think you'd do much better if we push debut back to our next comeback in September."

September. Three more months away, rather than three weeks; three more months to push through, nose to the grindstone, that deadline looming over your head. Three more months in which someone might realise they've made a grave mistake and pull you right back out again, when you'd been so close to that finish line. Three more months feeling like an imposter in these boys' lives, waiting for life to even out into some kind of normal.

"Is that okay?" Chan asks, and you bite down the spiral of thoughts that pulls your mind down towards a big, black hole and nod, trying to pretend that it's nothing. The frown on his face doesn't look convinced, nor does the sheet of paper that he reaches behind him to fetch, shoving it into your hands.

"I want you to understand," he says as you look down at the paper, forcing your fingers to only hold it gently before you can rip it. A schedule, the next three weeks of your life laid out in a neat little chart that is detailed down to the minute and overflowing with things to do. "This is the choice they've given us; either we push you through this schedule and extra dance practise and debut in three weeks, or we wait sixteen weeks, and you do all of these things with the rest of us in a reasonable timeframe. I've been looking at it all week, and...I think it's too much. Waiting gives us a song prepared for nine members, takes the pressure off of the managers, gives you time to get to know everyone..."

You're forced to swallow the lump in your throat as you read the schedule and realise that Chan is right; the next week is full of photoshoots and content creation, with no room left for the dance practise you know you need to keep up with. It's rushed, and it's daunting, and at first look you're not really sure at all how you would handle everything. It's the life you've been training for for years now, and yet so many of the things on this list you feel like you haven't trained for at all.

"You're right," you admit, around a tongue that sits too heavy in your mouth. "I don't know why they thought this would work in the first place, when I'm so-"

"Someone high up had a great idea, and wanted it seen through as fast as possible," Chan says before you can finish. "Stray Kids haven't had a really...successful year. Maybe they were thinking of dropping us unless something changed, maybe they just really liked you. They've already agreed to push your debut back to September anyway, so it's not something we need to worry about now."

"As long as they still think it's a good idea in September," you say, and you manage to keep your tone light even though it doesn't sound much like a joke to you at all.

Changbin is the one to speak up, his hand slapping the arm of the couch. "They can't mess with us like that," he declares in the kind of voice that says he has complete confidence in what he says. "You want to be in Stray Kids, you're in Stray Kids, and you're not leaving."

"Exactly," Chan says warmly, and you manage to muster up a smile even though that tension still squeezes tight in your chest at the thought of another three months of limbo, not knowing if you'll stay or if you'll go. "Now," he says, turning back to his laptop, "I have better news; I've got a part for you in God's Menu that I want to hear, and I can play the next title track for you..."

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98

[thrandilf]

You know what

In all seriousness

The TDP crew's proximity to fandom has always been closer to us than other fandoms where we have an official server, we get little impromptu Q and A stuff sometimes, the promo art and short stories which we are confirmed getting again, interviews to the level we get them, none of this is required for anyone to do

And I feel like I see the TDP crew get shit on the most when they're like. Doing the most compared to other creators with their fans

Leaks getting out is inevitable but I have 2 things to say

1. Conventions have always had exclusive stuff. Maybe cons that were livestreamed set unrealistic expectations for cons going forward but it's just true. I went to a live show for LAVA Live which is a trio of voice actors who do live shows at conventions all over and they ask for no photos or content online so it always stays a surprise. For those, if you don't go to the con, you never ever learn what they do during the live shows if people keep their promises, and I haven't seen complaints about that within my con/those fan circles even though it's Very much so more exclusive. TDP has early but not exclusive info at cons. It isn't unreasonable or an act of hate against fans.

2. Leaks are maybe inevitable, but to me the worst part is publicly leaking. There's a difference between dming a friend or having a little group and posting in the main tags on social platforms not even under a cut when you were asked not to, and particularly in areas where said creators do reside because then it's just outright disrespectful. That's where it feels personally out of line, and people don't seem to get it

Off of point 2, your other fans maybe wanted to know the stuff that could be shared and didn't blacklist spoilers so again, there wasn't defense for that tagged or not

I just want to remind people to please view creators as human beings and even if you disagree with a choice, understand where it comes from, that it was yes a request that couldn't be enforced, but that you hit a point where it feels like disrespect to both the creators and your other fans if they had wanted a specific surprise

Signed, someone who's alpha tested the Xadia game and had an Actual NDA to sign about game info you will never get from me lmao

[snk-smartpass]

TEXT Vol. 05 Jean’s Textbook

He’d gotten rid of as many of his belongings as possible when he joined the Survey Corps. There was no point in bringing anything like his jumbled collection of notes, and anything he did need he could buy or be issued. There was one item, however, that he kept in his bags because he’d need them to review the basics when understanding an operation.

“…My textbooks, huh. I guess I did leave them here.”

It had been some time since Jean last returned to his quarters. When he opened his bags in the personal space he’d been assigned, something moved him to pull the books out.

••••••

Around the time the old regime had been overthrown and Jean had met up with the main unit of the army…

Jean had been acting separately from the rest of the Survey Corps as a member of the “new Team Levi,” keeping him away from the main unit for some time. His bags had been haphazardly tidied up, just like those belonging to the rest of his squad. Now that much had been settled and he had returned, he needed to prepare next for the new operation to retake Wall Maria. When he unfastened his bag, he found a number of textbooks he’d used during his time in the Training Corps.

“I can’t believe I kept these …”

Even though he’d joined the Survey Corps and found himself in an ever-changing situation, he couldn’t allow himself to be negligent when it came to reviewing his fundamentals… And so he’d brought these books upon someone’s recommendation.

“A Guide to Marching Drills… What does this say about nighttime movement on horseback, again?”

One of these volumes seemed to be exactly the reference material he needed for the upcoming operation, and he casually began flipping through its pages.

••••••

[Seems like this appears on exams a lot.]

“…What’s this?”

The first handwritten words to jump out at him were not his own. These were marks left behind during a group study session for a written exam in his Training Corps days. Jean remembered sitting in the center of everyone, having placed his own textbook in the middle of the desk for them all to see and at times write in as they discussed this and that.

Jean couldn’t remember who the rushed cursive belonged to at first, but his memories of that day gradually began to return to him.

(Armin? No… If it was the person right next to me… I guess it’d be Marco.)

The words were written right-side-up on one side of the book. They’d been penned by someone reaching in from the side.

He shook his head at the memory of his close and now departed friend as he turned the page to find other writings.

••••••

“What’s this one say…?”

Jean couldn’t read the upside-down letters at first. He turned the book around, then gasped.

[Horses can move in other unpredictable ways. Be careful]

[—>Finger whistling, page 54]

The thick and powerful words of caution belonged to Reiner.

The thin and weak words that pinpointed Jean’s weaknesses and noted where he needed to read belonged to Bertolt.

Back then… they were comrades he learned alongside. In fact, it had been Reiner who suggested that he hold onto his textbooks. He had said that while Jean was talented, he had a tendency to rely on the fact. That’s why he needed to hold onto books that would let him go back to basics.

“…He really could see what’s most important.”

The contents of this textbook would have to be solidly in the minds of the two who were now on the “other side.” They would also know how the Corps would move by horseback according to it, too.

In other words… such was the opponent that now awaited them.

“The last ones I wanted to have to face went and became our enemies.”

…So this is what they meant when they said the world is a cruel place.

Jean quietly closed the book and placed it deep within his bags, as if to seal away the memories of the time he spent with the two.

••••••

SOURCE: Attack on Titan: Short Stories 3

TRANSLATION: Ko Ransom

[ck-sims]

ATTENTION: To anyone who uses my breed templates

It has come to my attention that Jocelyn (known as maplewood-estate, cath-creative-corner, jocelynxflores, eqsims, and several other alts) of the Equiliberty Discord server has uploaded my breed template files to her server without my knowledge or consent. This is a problem for two reasons:

One.

I specifically state in my TOS not to re-upload my work anywhere else, as it is hosted on Simfileshare, with backup copies on my google drive in the event Simfileshare goes down. I do not mind if my work is privately shared between friends (especially through imports etc) or in small groups, but I do mind when someone re-uploads the files somewhere themselves without credit or a direct link to my blog. That this person did this doesn't actually surprise me, as she is well known within the TS4 community for stealing cc from other creators, removing their names/IDs from the file, and refusing to give credit where credit is due. I formally requested that she remove my files from her server, which she refused to do. I was also accused of being a bully for pointing out this theft and for asking that the files be taken down.

Two.

Earlier today, it came to my attention that one of my breed templates - the Thoroughbred breed template - was corrupting save files. Upon further investigation with the affected person, it was revealed to me that they downloaded this corrupted template not from my simfileshare link, but from the Equiliberty discord server. None of the templates from the direct download from simfileshare have this issue, which leads me to believe that whatever copies got uploaded to that server, they were corrupted. I do not know if this corruption was intentional or not. It is important to always download my files (or files from any creator, really), directly from the source, as those files will always be the most up-to-date versions and also guaranteed not to be corrupted. If you wish to share cc to a wider audience (like a server), simply link to the relevant post on my blog or simfileshare page. This ensures that other people can also access the most up-to-date version, as well as discover more of my work.

Unfortunately, because Jocelyn reacted with hostility to my request, I was unable to explain the very good reason why I was asking that my work be taken down and replaced with links. This entire issue could have been avoided had my Terms of Service been followed, as the original upload was not corrupted at all. Unfortunately, because of this, a handful of people lost hours of hard work, which makes me incredibly sad. Obviously, as a creator, there really isn't anything I can do if my TOS are violated beyond blocking known violators, but I would like to think that observing any creator's TOS is a simple sign of respect. Going forward, I will continue to share my breed templates through this blog. I am also certain they will continue to be stolen, but there is little I can do about that. All I ask is that people remember that the safest files will always be those downloaded directly from the content creator's page, and that anyone who reuploads my files elsewhere instead of directly linking to my blog is violating my TOS and also possibly sharing corrupted files with you. Be aware and be safe!

[rwbyrg]

How do you stay positive seeing all the negativity we get for shipping this?

I don't typically talk about discourse, but I know this is something pretty much every RG shipper has faced at some point. So I'll make an exception this once. For anyone that doesn't want to hear about it, I strongly encourage you to keep scrolling.

I'm gonna keep it brief(ish) and vague, but content warning for topics of mental health, abuse, general fandom toxicity and ship discourse.

The short answer is that I've had to completely remove myself from large fandom spaces. I left Twitter last fall, I'm not in any big Discords, and I never check the fandom Reddits. I block bullies, bystanders, and bad faith arguers liberally. I mute words and phrases I don't wish to see, I don't engage with the bad faith takes, and I don't go looking in tags much either.

I surround myself with a small group of friends that I enjoy spending time with and can trust. So I still have outlets to be able to geek out without risk of dealing with the wider community's negativity. This blog was also created as a safe outlet to ramble, join together, or spread positivity about the ship. I know how rough it is for us out there - in the RWBY fandom as a whole, as well as within our own RG shipping spaces. So since I can't be an impartial community leader that helps run events or bigger spaces for us like I used to, this is kind of all I have left to offer.

The slightly longer addition that got way out of hand:

I'm not going to say it's not lonely. That I don't miss being part of a more active, wider group of people that we should have every right to join. But despite how hard some of us tried, there was nothing we could do to change the toxicity that is so deeply rooted at the core of this fandom. The fact that I even tried as hard as I did was 1. a trauma response and 2. just ended up with me - and too many of my friends - getting hurt anyway. I can't regret it because it's how I made the friends that are so dear to me now. But none of us should have had to deal with the cyberbullying, harassment, dog-piling, backstabbing, suibaiting, or any of that other garbage to find the group we have today.

It's extremely fucked up. There's no way to sugar coat it. All of it is abuse and is genuinely traumatizing to many people. I am not using these as buzzwords either. Myself and a handful of my rg shipping friends have literally gone to therapy to help us heal from all the things we've experienced in this fandom. So I have it on the authority of multiple psychiatrists, therapists, and social workers that what I am saying here is true.

Rosegarden and its shippers have become the scapegoat of a toxic community. There are big name fans who've staked their entire platforms on the idea of a rival ship being canon. And so, when they see any of us suggesting a Very Likely alternative to their reality (even if we're minding our own business), they become violent and go out of their way to try and defend it. There are entire servers and friend groups built on bullying this ship and its shippers for similar reasons. Anyone that argues against them, no matter how valid their stance, or how articulately its delivered, is going to become a target. Because we are seen as a threat to a system they directly benefit from. If any of them were to acknowledge how unreasonable or ridiculous all of this is, what would that mean for the circumstances and relationships they've built for themselves? It would all fall apart, wouldn't it?

This is why we also see fellow RG shippers invalidating or blaming us for what we go through. Because some of them have become convinced that if they side with the bullies and paint themselves as "not like those shippers", then they'll be "safe". Which as we all know isn't true. Because the antis attack each other for the smallest offences that don't have anything to do with us anyway.

The RWBY fandom is not alone in struggling with this. Fandoms everywhere are seeing these same patterns play out in different ways. A lot of people without as many stakes in the arguments will often scoff or dismiss it on the basis of it being "so serious, when it's just about fictional characters". And to that, I say: bullshit.

First of all, the people on the other side of the screen dealing with all of this are Real People with Real Feelings and their own lives that are already hard enough as it it. And these sorts of environments, as previously mentioned, can and do cause severe harm. Second, none of this hate has anything to do with fictional characters. That is part of the reason why I am still able to enjoy this ship and this show despite everything I've been through here. Because the fictional characters are simply the means to an end. And while that end is different for everyone, for the bullies - by and large - it offers them power in the face of their insecurities.

The only reason this space is as toxic as it is, is because the loudest voices are often the most emotionally immature. All the reasonable people see the infighting going on and know that engaging with it is a pointless waste of energy. As someone that did try to fight it, I truly don't blame any of them for staying uninvolved. But power comes in numbers; so until a large enough group of the reasonable ones come forward, this fandom will only continue on the course it's headed.

I rambled a lot and I'm not even sure how much of this is relevant to your question. If i were to give a tl;dr to answer you, it is this:

You need to curate your own experience by setting boundaries for yourself that cannot easily be crossed by people or content that is going to upset you.

Recognizing the reason people behave the way they do towards all of this has very little, if anything, to do with the show, the ship itself, or the people shipping it is very liberating.

Don't be like how I was. Don't try and force it when it isn't working. If you are in an environment or a habit that you are getting more harm than joy from: leave. It doesn't always feel like it in the moment, but it is better to be alone than to be surrounded by people who suck. And when you shed the ones that don't treat you well, you open yourself up to more like-minded people that will want to be friends with you anyway.

I say this genuinely with only love and support in my heart, but: touch grass. As often as you can, as often as you need to: get offline. Read a book, engage in other hobbies, connect with people in real life, go for a walk or just get outside if you can. When you start connecting with the reality on your side of the screen more, it puts how pointless and absurd so much of this discourse really is into perspective. Moderation is key.

I'm sorry that all of the negativity has got you down. No one wants to acknowledge how much this sort of thing can affect our well being, but I know first hand how bad it can get. None of it is fair. The feelings you're having are valid and aren't anything to be ashamed about. If you have friends or family you can rely on for support, reach out to them when you need it. If you're in a place where you think the help you need is a bit more specialized, you have my support and encouragement in making the call or doing the research to get started. Therapy isn't accessible and doesn't always work for everyone, but it's not the only option. Before I could afford it, I micro-dosed by reading self-help books and following therapists on Instagram, lol.

I'm not sure what else I can say, and have said more than I meant to anyway. But hang in there, you're not alone, and take care of yourself, okay?💕🫂

[secret77778888]

Something is rotten in Lukolaland

⚠️DISCLAIMER: This is LUKOLALAND only. Skip this if you're not a shipper. This is only my point of view. No harm intended.

This isn’t the post I planned to share today, but I feel compelled to address the rising negativity within our fandom. Recently, I’ve noticed an increase in hate, and I’ve even been accused of encouraging extreme fan behavior, which is far from what I stand for.

Many outside our community are quick to label us as “crazy” simply because we ship real-life actors, and if I can understand their concerns in some ways, this hostility is not entirely deserved and it has pushed many of our own to withdraw from what was a fun and loving space. It’s also disheartening to see so much infighting, and I want to firmly condemn this behavior.

The Lukola fandom, like any other, is built on the love and admiration of two actors and the unique connection they share. However, recent actions by a small group of shippers have crossed the line, overshadowing the very essence of what it means to be part of this community. Harassing the stars, their friends, and their families and co-workers goes against the principles of kindness, respect, and positivity that should define any fandom.

Furthermore, doxing and harassing other creators, just because their views differ, is deeply wrong and damaging. This behavior is not only illegal but also violates basic human decency. It tarnishes the entire fandom and hurts the very people we claim to support.

This space was meant to be a celebration of love, yet lately, it feels like some have infiltrated our ship with the intention of causing chaos and tarnishing our reputation. It's as if they are not true believers in Lukola, but rather individuals trying to stir up negativity and disrupt something beautiful. Let's not allow these disturbances to undermine the genuine passion and support that brought us all here. We need to stand united, stay positive, and protect the essence of what our fandom truly represents.

Our ship is made up of fans who love both Nicola and Luke, and recent events have led to an unacceptable amount of hate directed towards them. This needs to stop immediately. There is no Lukola without either of them, and their current or past relationships do not diminish our belief in their connection as an endgame couple. If you no longer believe in their love, you are free to disembark or go aboard another ship. Please don’t overstay and bring negativity in this Love boat that should be filled with support, positivity, and love. Let's keep our ship sailing smoothly, focused on the joy that brought us together in the first place.

Being part of the Lukola ship is about celebrating the chemistry and bond between Luke and Nicola, appreciating their talent, and sharing the joy their on-screen and off-screen interactions bring. It is not about spreading hate, attacking others, or engaging in toxic behavior. We must remember that our actions reflect on the fandom as a whole, and it’s our responsibility to ensure it remains a space of love, respect, and positive support.

Let’s refocus on the heart of why we are here to celebrate the love and connection we see, and not to bring harm or negativity into the lives of others. We can enjoy our ship while maintaining respect for everyone involved, including the actors, their loved ones, and fellow fans. Let's be better and embody the love that brought us here in the first place.

I will take some time to reflect on my actions and commit to being more mindful in the future. I pledge to not go overboard by being overly invested or overanalyzing every detail, and I will be more thoughtful about the content I share moving forward.

Let's keep our LOVE boat exciting and new.

[mageknight14]

The Dangers and Flaws of Idolization: A NEO TWEWY analysis post

Transplanting and expanding on a thread I made on Twitter to fit within a Tumblr format.

One of the most interesting aspects I see in NEO TWEWY that I don’t see many people touch upon is the commonality between Rindo, Fret, and Shoka in how they look up to others as role models while simultaneously being blind to their flaws/who they actually are up to the end and how the game's themes are reflected in those relationships and today, I'd like to showcase why.

First, we have Rindo and Motoi. With that relationship, the game makes it pretty clear that Rindo looked up to Motoi as An0ther and used his words as encouragement to get through his own daily life and anxiety. The kid could barely decide what he could even eat for dinner before he had come across the account, so if you thought his current indecisiveness nature was bad, he was even worse before the events of the game.

However, what I find interesting is that even though he constantly spouts An0ther's sayings in an attempt to try and steel himself for the challenges he faces, he thoughtlessly does so and only lives by the sayings half-heartedly, since his indecisive nature and fear of responsibility prevent him from committing all the way. I think it's telling that despite claiming that "don't miss your chance to make a friend" is one of his favorite quotes, he's constantly at odds with the idea of bringing potentially new players on board the team even before he gets the chance to properly know/meet them and grimaces at the thought of the structure of the old Reaper's Game in the original.

Keep in mind that Beat saved Rindo's life at the hands of Susukichi at least two whole days ago before this occurrence.

Nagi’s Dive into his head on W1D3 actually does a LOT to reveal aspects of his character: he puts other people at arm’s length (besides Swallow due to their online anonymity) because he’s afraid of the fallout of what would to happen if he got involved with them.

"What if I end up taking on more than I can handle? What if other people end up dragging me down with them? If I just stay at the sidelines and shift the blame onto others, I won’t get into trouble for this."

"I'm in a group project; everybody is contributing and making decisions about how we should go about doing things. I keep my mouth shut and refrain from pitching in despite maybe thinking some of their ideas misses the point of the assignment, because God forbid my ideas could be helpful (or maybe they won't; that's life, but I won't know unless i speak up). We end up handing in our project and whoops, we got a C-. I guess I'm not responsible for receiving that grade because I never made a decision, therefore I shouldn't be accountable for my lack of contribution. It just makes sense."

If you've known/are a person that have had similar thoughts to this mindset, then congrats; you know/are a Rindo Kanade in real life.

This culminates into him latching onto others he finds capable and taking the relationships around him for granted, tying other people's worth to their prowess in might or influence. After all, why bother relying on yourself and others when you can just rely on someone else for you to solve your problems? Especially since it means that if everything goes south, YOU won’t take the fallout for it. After all, they’re clearly much more capable than you are.

To get back to his dynamic with Motoi, Rindo looks up to him immensely after finding out that he was his idol an0ther and came to value his input regarding matters within the Game. So when he eventually finds out the truth and is forced to confront the fact that his hero was nothing more than a content thief and a schemer who would trample over others just to survive, he’s understandably heartbroken.

However, instead of just leaving it there, the game decides to flip the script and have Motoi legitimately apologize to Rindo for his actions, leading to the lad in question learning to recognize that Motoi is ultimately an incredibly flawed human being instead of just writing him off entirely, (even giving him another chance!) and is, in many ways, a mirror to Rindo. Like Rindo, Motoi was deathly afraid of responsibility and the fallout of letting other people down, leading to him copying and pasting other people's quotes so that he wouldn't have to face that possibility. This aspect of himself only got worse when he got trapped in the Reaper's Game for multiple loops on end, forcing him to become a worse version of himself, lying, cheating, and backstabbing just to survive and even looking towards becoming part of the Reapers, the same group that trapped him there in the first place, just so he wouldn't have to be Erased, un a manner that's eerily reminiscent to how Rindo would took towards overly relying on others so that he would make it out okay. In that sense, Motoi is a look at what a grown-up Rindo would look like if he didn't take the lessons he learned within the Game to heart, which is part of why the latter decides to take Motoi’s copypasted quotes and apply them to his life in a positive way, deriving his own meaning from them so that in a way that contrasts him following them in a shallow manner from before.

Next up, we have Fret and Kanon, who form a interesting parallel to Rindo and Motoi's dynamic. Whereas Motoi is a look at one of the worst possible paths that Rindo could take if he didn't learn how to properly deal with his flaws, Kanon actually tries to coach Fret into becoming more true to and genuine with his actual self. She also shows herself to be a genuinely affable and honorable person even in spite of the bad first impression that she had given at the beginning of the game by stealing Rindo and Fret's pin for herself.

However, that's only the surface level stuff, as the game actually goes deeper with her character. While Kanon at first seems to be true to herself and genuine at her core in a way that Fret isn’t, we can see from the Dive into her head on W3D3 that she’s holding back a LOT underneath the surface.

"You always did have a way of destroying things" tends to get glossed over by some and for those who do look at the words, they seemingly come out of nowhere and can be seemingly brushed off as her just being under the influence of the Plague Noise. However , when you look back at some of Kanon’s actions and her words towards the Twisters (accusing the Twisters of sabotaging Fuya and making Motoi drop out of the Scramble Slam against his will, her mood changing when she finds out about Fuya challenging the Ruinbringers in one timeline as opposed to her more cheerful attitude towards Fret when she didn't find that out just yet, her acting suspicious towards the Twisters regarding their prowess as a team, etc), the implication is that she doesn’t just resent the game as a whole but also secretly the Twisters as well.

The thing about the Player teams is that they have formed an unspoken agreement where the top 3 teams (sans Ruinbringers of course) keep their footing by sending new players and other teams to last place, which the Wicked Twisters screw up just by existing. Their synergy and impressive Imagination powers (well, Fret, Nagi, and Sho’s at least) threaten the balance the teams have struggled to keep up for so long, hence why Kanon initially just sees them as another team to point snipe before she changes her mind on them. And while the Twisters do almost bring about change by beating the Ruinbringers, it ultimately doesn’t even matter in the long-run due to how incredibly rigged the Shinjuku game is and as a result, the DRS are eliminated, getting rid of Kanon’s and Motoi’s safety net.

Imagine this from the players’ perspective: you’re stuck in essentially what is a never-ending death game but you’ve got a system going where you can at least stave off your deaths for a bit longer. Then a couple of kids come around and throw that whole system entirely out of whack. And you think, "well, at least they can take out the top team and give us a fighting chance, right?" Only for those hopes to also get dashed because the rules are just that rigged. Like Kubo said, life ain’t fair and the afterlife sure as hell ain’t either. W1D5 and W2D4 are excellent explorations of this kind of mindset as it showcases the player teams falling victim to their desires and abusing their powers as a result of being stuck in an endless loop of playing the Game over and over again with no hope of escaping, as well as highlights paints certain comments made by the leaders in an even darker light.

With all of this in mind, it’s honestly no wonder that Kanon resents the Twisters but what’s interesting is that she tries to keep this resentment under wraps because she knows that it isn’t fair to them. They’re just kids after all who would have no idea about all of that. Hence why she admonishes herself in her Dive for wishing that they had just wipe out the Reapers altogether and why Fret is shown to be hurt hearing her inner thoughts about the Twisters in a way that’s pretty reminiscent of Rindo’s reaction when he found out about Motoi.

And finally, we have Shoka and Ayano. While it’s pretty clear that the two do genuinely care for one another, it’s a relationship that’s been tragically scarred by the events surrounding Shinjuku and the Reapers in general, resulting in a mutually unhealthy dynamic. 

What I find interesting about the relationship is that while Shoka gets pissed whenever Rindo insinuates that Ayano must’ve treated her badly, she sadly realizes in another convo that she doesn’t know much about Ayano on a personal level or what her interests even are.

In spite of how close they are and how much they mean to each other, Ayano still put up emotional walls and closed herself off, never allowing herself to be on equal footing to Shoka and instead just be someone who guides and mentors her over the 4 years they were together.

This is due to her feeling betrayed by Shiba/others while simultaneously using Shoka as her one stable point in life regardless because everything is going up into chaos surrounding the Shinjuku Reapers and she finds herself unable to trust anyone around her anymore. And Shoka herself doesn't even realize this until the end when it’s too late because she was just happy to simply have Ayano by her side without thinking deeper about her and their relationship as a whole due to her own emotional issues and troubled past.

When it comes to children from broken homes, they are prone to imprinting on any adult figure that interacts positively with them and in Shoka's case, this is exactly what she did with the Shinjuku Reapers, especially Ayano.

A running theme throughout all of these instances is how they all involve the younger generation looking up to the adults in their lives as idols as opposed to just role models and thus fail to see them for who they are as actual human beings. And by the time they that finally do, it's too late for the adults.

You also see nods towards this theme via the Shinjuku Reapers and their relationship with Shiba or Shiba’s (who himself is parallel to Rindo if his tendency to subconsciously take on the values of others and mistake his as his own was twisted into the worst possible outcome) relationship with Kubo, with Hishima even flat out stating as such. "You fell at the feet of an idol like an utter fool", indeed.

And this all fits, as well, into NEO's larger theme that even as a 'follower', you have to question the 'leader'. Role models aren't bad -- but idols and failing to recognize their limits/flaws/toxicity are and will end up screwing you over in the long run if you aren’t careful. And I think NEO did an excellent job at exploring the little nuances that come with that, from Kanon’s internal resentment she knew wasn’t fair to the unseen distance between Ayano and Shoka to Motoi being a complete deconstruction of it all. It shows the good and the bad of idolizing someone too much. It shows how you can see the real them and turn the image you liked into something more with Rindo, or how to hold them in your heart while moving on like Shoka. It's okay to acknowledge the flaws and shortcomings of the people you look up to. Hell, it’s probably healthy to do that in some ways. As long as they’re still a good person or even helped you grow, you can still celebrate the good they brought

[ichorai]

blueberries ; one.

pairing ; joey tribbiani x gn!reader chapter synopsis ; the one with runaway brides, pregnant wives, and homewreckers. wc ; 8.5k warnings / includes ; talks of sex/suggestive content, mild cursing, mentions of cheating, reader is a physicist and also bisexual, literally everyone in the group is fruity other than ross lol

series masterlist. main masterlist.

The pretty waitress strode towards you with a sweet smile, your warm cup of tea balanced on one hand, and Joey’s slice of double fudge cake in the other. She dropped it by the table and you noticed a small piece of folded paper by the edge of your cup. 

Once she was gone, you picked up the paper and unfurled it, a smile growing across your lips.

“Whatcha got there?” Chandler asked, peering over your shoulder. 

“I think it’s the waitress’ number,” you replied, folding it back and pocketing it safely within your jeans. “She’s real pretty.”

Joey, already halfway through with his cake, teasingly spoke around a full mouth, “Too bad you never leave the house other than to hang with us. I can take that number off of you if you never end up using it.”

You shot him a half-hearted scowl, but remained quiet.

Just then, Monica and Phoebe strolled into the cafe, taking a seat on the large sofa beside you and Chandler. 

“There’s nothing to say, really,” the dark-haired woman told Phoebe in a defensive tone. “He’s just some guy I work with.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Joey asked, having fully inhaled his cake in a matter of minutes. 

“Monica’s going out with someone,” you replied, wrinkling your nose in amusement and curling your legs up beneath you. You drank a sip of your tea as an excuse to hide away from her withering glare. “Isn’t that right, Monica?”

A roguish grin stretched across Joey’s features. “Come on. What’s the catch? You’re going out with a guy—there’s gotta be somethin’ wrong with him.”

“Does he eat chalk?” Phoebe queried, placing a comforting hand on Monica’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to go through what I went through with Carl, you know?”

The five of you grimaced at the memory of Carl.

“It’s not even a date!” said Monica, brushing her dark hair away from her face. “It’s just two people going out to dinner—and not having sex.”

Chandler scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sounds like all the dates I’ve had.”

It was then that Ross came into the cafe, drenched from foot to toe. You glanced behind you to the window, surprised to see that it had started to rain without you realizing. It looked like your long-time friend was crying, but you couldn’t really tell if it was rainwater or tears that were on his face.

“Hi,” he mumbled, morose. 

You arched a brow. “You okay, Ross?”

He shook his head, squeezing between you and Chandler on the sofa. The two of you grimaced when his sodden clothes dripped all over you, and Chandler rolled his eyes before getting up and sinking into another chair. 

“Feels like someone reached down my throat, ripped out my small intestine, pulled it out of my mouth, and tied it around my neck.”

“Cookie?” Chandler offered. Ross ignored him.

Monica sighed. “Carol moved her stuff out today,” she offered as an explanation, knowing Ross would take well over an hour of moping to finally get to the point. “Let me go grab you some coffee.”

As his sister left, Ross crossed his arms, swatting Phoebe away when she tried to cleanse his aura, as she often did. “I’ll be fine—really, I will. I hope she’ll be very happy.”

“No, you don’t, Ross,” you quipped.

“No, I don’t! To hell with her, she left me!”

Joey snorted. “And you never knew she was a lesbian?”

“I knew—” you said pointedly. “Ross just never listened to me.”

“I didn’t think you were being serious!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know, sometimes you joke about things being gay and stuff so I just thought it was a joke I wasn’t in on. Because, you know, I’m not—”

Lightly punching him in the shoulder, you gave him a stern look. “I know you’re not gay, Ross. Why would I joke about your wife being gay?”

“I mean, you did say she was really hot once,” Phoebe chimed, much to your dismay. At your soured expression, the blonde spoke up again, “What? I think she’s hot, too!”

Ross buried his face into his hands, groaning loudly. “Why does everyone keep fixating on the fact that she’s a lesbian? She didn’t know—how would I have known?”

“Didn’t she tell you that she just kinda found dicks gross at one point?” Chandler asked, lounging in an awkward position on the chair. Ross grumbled quietly under his breath, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation of his wife being gay. “Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian. Being bisexual is exhausting—do I want a man to sweep me off my feet or do I want a woman to sweep me off my feet? I’ll never know.”

Monica came back with the cup of coffee, handing it to Ross before turning to you excitedly. “Hey, Y/N. The waitress was asking about you.”

“Oh, yeah? What did she say?”

“She wanted to know if you were single or not.”

With bated breath, you snuck a glance to the counter, watching the pretty waitress take another customer’s order.

“And?”

“I told her you were single,” Monica replied. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling us…?”

“I’m single,” you reassured them. Ross made a strange noise that sounded like Chewbaca choking on a stick at the reminder of being single. “Ross, listen. It’s not your fault that your wife is queer—despite me telling you multiple times that she was—so let’s look at the bright side here. She’s not leaving you because of you. It’s the literal definition of it’s not you, it’s me.”

With a frown, Ross pried his fingers away from his still-damp face. “Yeah, I guess…”

Joey clapped his hands together, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “Alright, Ross, look. You’re feelin’ a lot of pain right now. You’re hurting. Can I tell you what the answer is?”

Ross nodded, apprehensive.

“Strip joints!”

The rest of you groaned. 

Joey shrugged, genuinely confused as to why it wouldn’t be a good idea. “Come on, you’re single now! Gotta release those hormones somehow.”

“See, I don’t want to be single!” Ross exclaimed in exasperation. “I just wanna be married again.”

As if on cue, a woman ran into the cafe, wearing a rather large white wedding dress. She was soaked and breathless, and her dripping brown hair was a mess, and the white fabric was streaked with dirt and mud and city street gunk.

All of you blinked in surprise. 

Chandler gestured to the door in a pleading manner. “And I just want a million dollars!”

“A million dollars really isn’t all that much—ask for a hundred million,” you told him. 

“A billion dollars!” he shouted.

“That’s too much. Nobody should have a billion dollars.”

“A trillion dollars!” he yelled again, ignoring you completely.

You rolled your eyes, before turning your gaze back to the lost woman in a wedding dress.

Concerned, Monica stood up, expression twisted into one of part-disbelief and part-recognition. 

“Rachel?” she asked as she approached the woman. 

“Oh, my God, Monica, thank goodness!” She threw her arms around a stricken Monica, the white fabrics of her wedding dress just about slapping her in the face. She spoke quickly, voice crackling with emotion. “I went to your apartment and some guy with a big hammer said you might be here, and you are! Gosh, I’m just so happy to see you!”

The rest of the group watched the two of them with evident confusion, and Monica led Rachel to the couch. “Oh, everybody, this is Rachel, another Lincoln High survivor. Rachel, this is everybody—that’s Chandler, Phoebe, Joey, Y/N… you remember my brother Ross, don’t you?”

“Sure!” Rachel smiled brightly, strangely cheerful for someone in a ruined, soaking wedding dress.

To make space for her and her rather spacious dress, you got up from the large couch and moved to Joey, bumping his hip playfully to get him to scooch aside on his chair so you could sit beside him. The two of you fought over space for a bit before he relented, grabbing your legs and swinging them over his thighs. You sent him a smug grin as you leaned back comfortably and Joey only stuck his tongue out at you childishly.

“So, uh, are you going to tell us now or are we waiting for four wet bridesmaids, too?” Monica queried. 

“Wouldn’t be so bad, huh?” Joey whispered into your ear, and you jabbed an elbow into his side to shut him up.

“Oh, God,” Rachel started, gesturing emphatically with her hands. It didn’t slip your notice when Ross sat up straight, watching the new woman with wide eyes. “It started about half an hour before the wedding. I was in this room where we were keeping all these presents and I was looking at this gravy boat! This really gorgeous Limoges gravy boat, you see. Which led me to realize that… I was more turned on looking at this gravy boat than by Barry! And I got really freaked out, because how could I get married to someone I think is less attractive than a gravy boat? And I just kinda stare at him and I realize that he looks just like Mr. Potato Head. You know, I always thought he looked familiar but…” she trailed off, looking ready to burst into tears. “Anyway, I just had to get out of there—and I didn’t know anywhere else to go. I know you and I have drifted apart but you’re the only person I know who lived in the city.”

Pursing her lips, Monica eyed Rachel quizzically. “... Who wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

Rachel grimaced. “I was kinda hoping that wouldn’t be an issue.”

You stepped into Monica’s apartment, waving hello to the group of friends gathered on her couch.

“Hey guys,” you greeted, plopping down next to Rachel, still in her wedding dress. “Sorry I had to duck out at the cafe—work called. What’d I miss?”

“Rachel’s staying at Monica’s place now,” replied Phoebe. “I sang her a song to cheer her up!”

From behind the sofa, Joey curled an arm around you, and his other went over Rachel’s shoulders. “Hey, Rach, if you ever need a place to stay—Chandler and I live right across the hall. And Chandler’s away a lot.”

“Can you stop hitting on her?” you hissed, swatting his hand away. “God, Joey, it’s her wedding day!”

“Hey, don’t be jealous. I offered you the same when I first met you!” 

“Jo, honey, I had my own apartment then, and I still have my own apartment now.”

The man shrugged, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the side of your head. “The offer still stands, sweetheart.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows, gesturing between the two of you. “So are you two… like…?”

“Oh, no!” you exclaimed, slapping a hand over Joey’s mouth to make sure he didn’t say something stupid. “He’s just flirty with everyone.”

Joey’s tongue darted out to lick across your palm and you quickly retracted your hand with an exclamation of disgust, wiping it over his jacket before shoving him. “You’re so gross.”

He trotted away to Chandler in the kitchen before you could hit him again, grinning like a fool.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Chandler peered through the peeping hole, and gasped in an overexaggerated manner.

“It’s Paul the wine guy!”

Phoebe tilted her head. “Monica, is your ‘guy from work’ date Paul the wine guy?”

With a smile, Ross placed a hand on his sister’s arm. “Oh my God, he finally asked you out on a date?”

“Y-Yeah, I was supposed to go out with him for lunch but…” Monica looked at Rachel on the sofa. “Rach, wait, I can cancel!”

“Oh, please, no, you should go, Monica! I’ll be fine!” the brunette assured her. 

“Do you want me to stay, Ross? Will you be okay?” 

Ross looked torn, but you sent him a nasty glare that clearly meant—stop being a whiny bitch baby and let your sister go. He straightened himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yes, of course. You should go.”

Monica skipped to the door with a bright smile, slowly opening it to reveal Paul on the other side with—what do you know, a wine bottle. You pressed a fist to your lips to hide your laugh with a cough.

The man was quite the looker, and you had to roll your eyes to the ceiling when Phoebe started giggling with Monica like schoolgirls. As Monica said her goodbyes and strode out the door with Paul, Rachel and Ross had moved to the kitchen, where he began asking Rachel what her plans were for the night.

“Well, if you’re feeling lonely, you can always come to my place—Chandler and Joey are helping me put together some new furniture.”

Chandler held up a sloshing glass of orange juice he fished from the fridge. “It’s gonna be a blast! I just can’t wait to hit nails with a hammer like a real man!” he said, practically dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh,” said Rachel as she got up. “I’m flattered, really, but I think I just want to unwind here for tonight. It’s been a long day.” She excused herself, heading to the bathroom. 

Though Ross looked a little dejected, Joey and Chandler shrugged it off easily. “Hey, Phoebe, you wanna help out?”

The blonde pursed her lips in thought. “Mm, I wish I could, but I don’t want to.” 

You snorted in amusement, slinging an arm around her.

“What about you, Y/N?” asked Ross. “Could really use the company right now.”

“Oh, sorry, Ross, I can’t,” you winced. “I’ve got to run some calculations for work before tomorrow. I’ve got a presentation first thing on Monday. But call me if you need help, okay?” 

Apologetically, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Bye, guys. Tell Rachel it was nice meeting her for me, will you? I should get going now.”

“What, and I don’t get a goodbye kiss?” Joey asked, stretching his arms out with an exaggerated pout. 

With a huff, you reluctantly gave him a hug, before swiftly pecking his cheek. “See you guys later, alright? You want a kiss too, Chandler?” 

“Would be nice,” he replied, scuffing the floor with the heel of his shoe. “I’m touch starved.”

“We know,” the four of you replied in tandem, before bursting into laughter.

You leaned over to kiss Chandler’s cheek too, and then Phoebe’s for good measure, before waving one last time and sliding out the door.

It wasn’t even two hours later when you got a call, with Ross yelling something about how he couldn’t feel his legs and how his life was crumbling apart because Chandler hammered a screw into his bookshelf instead of a nail. Joey was in the background moaning about how hungry he was, and Chandler was screaming at Ross to calm down, which obviously made Ross even more upset.

So there you were, standing outside of Ross’ door with two boxes of pizza and sleepy eyes. You passed out on top of your work an hour through, the ringing from Ross’ call being what shocked you awake. 

As soon as the door swung open, Ross immediately enveloped you in a hug, speaking so quickly that it all went in one ear and out the other. Something about his lesbian wife, you supposed. You patted his back lethargically. 

Joey came forward to take the pizzas off of you, somehow already managing to stuff half a slice into his face with one bite. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I could kiss you right now.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Please don’t.”

Littered around Ross’ relatively empty apartment was a bunch of loose piles of wood and metal poles and silver nails and screws haphazardly strewn all over the floor. 

“You guys are a mess.”

For the rest of the time, the three men ate as they watched you tiredly read over the manuals, before slowly but accurately assembling together the furniture. They all clapped once you finally put together the bookshelf—amazed at the fact that it didn’t topple to the ground as soon as you put one book on top, as it did when they tried. 

“You’re good with your hands,” Joey commented slyly. “Wonder what else they’re good at.”

“I’ve been told I’m good at punching people,” you replied dryly, sitting on a single stool and leaning against Joey for support, seeing as Ross didn’t have a couch anymore. You closed your eyes sleepily, and he placed an arm around you. Quietly, you mumbled out, “If I fall asleep, just tell Ross it’s not because I hate him, okay? I have a feeling just about anything would set him off tonight.”

“What if there’s only one person for everybody, you know?” Ross blubbered to Chandler from across the room, proving your point exactly. “What if you just get one chance—and that’s it?”

Pulling a sour expression, Joey cocked his head as he said, “What the hell are you talking about, Ross? One person? That’s so… limiting. It’s like saying there’s only one ice cream flavor you like. Let me tell you something, Ross, there’s tons of ice cream flavors out there. There’s rocky road, and cookie dough, and Bing cherry vanilla! You can get ‘em with jimmies, or nuts, or whipped cream, if you know what I’m saying.” He winked down at you and you pinched his side. “Personally, I think I’m a mint chocolate chip. Chandler—you’re a raspberry sorbet. Y/N, I think you’d be somethin’ like blueberry cheesecake. And Ross… you’re a… vanilla. With nuts, if we’re going wild with it.”

Mildly offended that Joey called him vanilla, Ross opened his mouth to retort something, but Chandler beat him to it.

“You think I’m raspberry sorbet?”

Joey waved the both of them away. “Anyways, the point is, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to you! You got married when you were like, what? Eight? Welcome back to the world—grab a spoon!”

“Though, your options are a bit more limited seeing as you’re the only straight one in this room,” you chimed, lifting your head from Joey’s side with a sleepy grin. Ross shot you a dirty look. 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m horny or hungry.”

“Ugh, you’re gross,” you complained, letting your eyes slip back shut. 

Groaning in disgust, Chandler backed away. “Stay out of my freezer.”

 Ross sighed heavily, sliding down the wall and slumping against it as if he were a ragdoll. There was a beer can in his hand, one that he claimed was Carol’s favorite drink, and he took a long swig. 

“Grab a spoon, pfft,” Ross mocked. “Do you know how long it’s been since I grabbed a spoon? You know, even if I could get it together to ask a woman out, who’d I ask?”

Exhaling softly, you moved away from Joey (much to his dismay, he was just getting warm with you cozying up to his side), and sat down beside Ross.

“Hey, dude,” you said, nudging his arm. “It’s okay if you haven’t grabbed a spoon in a while. Grabbing spoons as quickly as you can won’t instantly make things better. Things like this take time—you don’t have to rush into anything. Whatever happens, happens man. You’ll be okay. I mean, it’s not like either of you did anything wrong. It’s just life, you know?”

Tears pricked the corners of Ross’ eyes. He ducked his head so you wouldn’t see, but you knew they were there nonetheless.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbled, sniffling. Pursing your lips, you roped him into an embrace.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Chandler said, biting down on a slice of pizza. He turned to Joey again with a furrowed brow. “Now back to the things that are actually important. Why on earth do you think I’m raspberry sorbet?”

The next morning, you found yourself having breakfast at Monica’s place, sitting between Chandler and Joey, who had just dumped the coffee Rachel made for them into your cup of tea while her back was turned. 

You kicked both of them underneath the table, but smiled sweetly when Rachel came back, surprised at how quickly the two boys had downed their coffee.

“Would you like some?” Rachel asked. “It’s my first time making it!”

“No!” you blurted out, embarrassingly quick. “Sorry, I’m just—trying to cut back on caffeine.”

“Suit yourself,” she replied, before leaning back against the sink. “I do have a question for you guys though—do you, uhm… all have jobs?”

Monica cocked her head, biting into her buttered toast. “Yeah, we all have jobs. See, that’s how we buy things.”

“Ugh, capitalism,” you muttered under your breath, taking a sip of your mug before realizing that it was full of the bitter coffee that Rachel made, and tried to discreetly spit it back out. Joey noticed however, and patted your back sympathetically.

“You and your fancy words, Y/N,” he said, as if you were just making the word up.

Rachel pulled the dark bathrobe tighter around her figure. “What do all of you do?”

“Well, you know I’m a chef,” said Monica. “Y/N is a physicist, Joey is an actor, and Chandler… uhm… Chandler plays with numbers and data and all that.”

“Wow! Would I have seen you in anything?” she asked Joey.

“Eh, mostly regional work—”

“He was in that Wee One’s production of Pinocchio,” you put in, earning yourself a pinch to the thigh. You grinned at him cheekily.

Chandler barked out a laugh, mimicking the line of, “Look Geppeto, I’m a real live boy!”

“I’m not taking this abuse,” said Joey, standing up to head to the door.

The two of you apologized quietly, before Chandler abruptly stood up and pranced out the door singing, “Once I was a wooden boy, a little wooden boy!”

Joey followed him back to their apartment, yelling out obscenities along the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Love to talk more, ladies, but I’ve gotta head to work.”

“What exactly do you do, though?” Rachel asked. It wasn’t often that you saw someone genuinely curious about your work, other than Ross. 

“I specialize in quantum physics—I do quite a bit of research for my field, and propose theories, and sometimes I lecture students working on their doctorate degrees. In fact, that was how I met Ross—we were both teaching at the same university for a couple months and became friends, and through him, I met the rest of the group.”

Rachel blinked at you with amazement. “That sounds amazing! Do you know how I could get one of those?”

“Er… what?”

“You know. A job. Like the rest of you have.”

Sending Monica a confused glance, you said, “Rachel, have you never had a job before?”

“Well,” she taps her finger against her lips, “I’ve babysat for cash before. Does that count?”

“Oh, honey,” simpered Monica from beside Rachel. “Good luck finding one. I’m sure there’s plenty of restaurants or cafes looking to hire a waitress.”

The memory of the waitress from yesterday flashed into your mind—with her pretty eyes and sweet smile… 

You shook your head, before checking the time. You blanched upon seeing that you were nearly late for your presentation. “Gosh, I gotta run. See you guys later!”

That night, the entire friend group sat around Rachel as she hovered over all the credit cards she had that were paid by her father.

“Come on, give her a break. It’s hard to live on your own for the first time,” Phoebe said.

Rachel frowned at the nice words, as if she was going to cry. “Oh, thank you, Pheebs.”

“Yeah, I remember I was fourteen and my mom had just killed herself and my stepdad was in prison! I didn’t know anybody, so I ended up living with this albino guy who was cleaning windshields outside Port Authority. And then, heh, what do you know, he killed himself, too. Then I found aromatherapy! So believe me, I know exactly how you feel.” The blonde smiled sweetly, and you couldn’t help but give her a one-armed hug from the side.

“Here,” Monica said, handing Rachel a pair of large orange scissors. “Just cut ‘em. You’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

The group began chanting ‘cut, cut, cut!’ as if it were some sort of cult ritual. Finally, Rachel straightened herself and cut through each of the cards, lips puckered in a pout.

“Welcome to the real world,” said Chandler.

“It sucks,” you chimed.

“You’re gonna love it!” exclaimed Monica.

The waitress was staring at you again. You could feel her eyes practically boring holes into the back of your neck. Apprehensively, you turned ever so slightly to meet her gaze, but she quickly pretended to be busy with wiping down the counters.

Joey snapped his fingers in front of your face, bringing your attention back to him.

“Are you even listening?” he asked. 

“No,” you replied easily, which made him snort out a laugh.

Monica gestured wildly as she explained again to the confused men. “It’s just, for us, kissing is as important as any part of it.”

“Yeah, right,” Joey scoffed. Once he realized that the three women were dead serious, he furrowed his brows. “Wait, you’re not pulling my leg?”

Nodding emphatically, Rachel said, “Everything you need to know is in that first kiss!”

With a shrug, Chandler put forth, “Yeah, I think for us, kissing is more like an opening act. It’s like the stand-up comedian you have to sit through before Pink Floyd comes out.”

Ross murmured his agreement rather sheepishly. “Right, and it’s not like we don’t like the comedian, it’s just that… that’s not why we bought the ticket.” 

“What about you, Y/N?” asked Phoebe. “Do you prefer the comedian or… Pink Floyd?”

With a hum, you traced the rim of your teacup with your pointer finger before sighing. “I don’t really have a concrete answer for that, honestly. Both the comedian and the actual show are great, but—sometimes I don’t even want the comedian at all, and sometimes I don’t want the show at all. It depends on the person and the situation.” A bit quieter, you tacked on, “Sometimes the longer the comedian drags on, the better the show’ll be after. And sometimes the comedian and the show perform at the same time—you guys gotta think outside the box, here.”

The rest of the group blinked at you owlishly. 

With a smile, Rachel whooped. “Y/N, you little devil! I didn’t know you were into foreplay! But you know what, you’re right. Maybe the comedian should never leave the stage!”

Heat flushed your cheeks at Rachel’s loud words. You wondered if the waitress could hear your conversation. “Woah, I never said that—”

“I’m confused,” Joey interjected. “Are we still talking about sex?”

You watched in amusement as Chandler and Joey began digging into Monica’s lasagne in search of Rachel’s lost wedding ring. A bit of sauce smeared over Joey’s cheek and you reached over to wipe it away with your thumb, muttering out how ridiculous they looked nearly elbow-deep in cheese and pasta.

There was a knock at the door, and when Monica swung it open, you were greeted with a forlorn Ross. Honestly, when wasn’t he forlorn these days?

“Hi,” he said, looking like he wanted a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole.

“Why the long face?” you asked, moving away from the pair rifling through the lasagna to the Geller siblings by the door. 

Ross’ voice cracked a little as he replied, “Carol’s pregnant.”

“I found it!” Phoebe exclaimed from behind you, which was funny because she didn’t have any lasagna on her hands while the other two boys held handfuls of the pasta. She held the ring up, covered in marinara sauce and small chunks of beef, holding it out to Rachel.

Monica’s face dropped in shock. “Wh-Wha—? Wh… What?” 

“Yeah. Do that for another two hours, and you might be where I am right now,” Ross said, walking into the apartment. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you led him to the couch for him to take a seat. “How do you fit into this whole thing?”

“Carol says she and Susan want me to be involved, but if I’m not comfortable with it—then I don’t have to be. Basically, it’s totally up to me.”

Phoebe called out from the sink as she washed her hands, “She’s so great! I miss her.”

They half-heartedly glared at her, but you stifled a laugh. 

“What does she mean by involved?” asked Monica.

“Presumably, the biggest part of your job is done!” Chandler added, which earned him a light punch to the shoulder.

Scratching his head, Ross loosened his tie, feeling like he was being suffocated. “They want me to go down to this sonogram thing with them tomorrow. I have no idea if I’m going or not. No matter what I do, though… I’m still going to be a father.”

Clattering from the kitchen made the group turn their heads to see Joey practically attacking the lasagna with a spoon that was far too big, shoveling the pasta into his mouth. At the incredulous stares, Joey flinched defensively. “What? This is still ruined, right?”

Ross stood beside the television as he showed everybody the sonogram of the baby, a smile etched permanently across his face. “Isn’t that just amazing?”

You were just about to chime in about how big they already look, but Joey beat you to it by asking, “What the hell am I supposed to be looking at? Is that its foot or its head?”

“If you tilt your head to the left and relax your eyes, it kinda looks like an old potato,” Phoebe said as she squinted in concentration at the screen.

Ross eyed her warily. “Then don’t do that.”

From beside you, Monica started tearing up, and you could hear her little sniffles. Man, do the Gellers cry a lot. You wrapped an arm around her waist and she leaned her head onto your shoulder as the two of you watched the sonogram. 

“How’d your date go, Pheebs?” you asked the blonde as she walked into Central Perk. 

She made a noise of discontent, tugging her light blue coat off. “Not so good. He walked me to the subway and said, ‘we should do this again’.”

The rest of the group grimaced, saved for Rachel, who appeared confused.

“What? He said they should do it again—isn’t that good?”

“Uh, no,” Monica interjected, raising a finger. “Loosely translated, ‘we should do this again’ means ‘you will never see me naked’!”

Rachel reared back. “Since when?” 

“Since always!” said Joey. “It’s, like, dating language. How ‘it’s not you’ always means ‘it is you’.”

Chandler nodded. “Or ‘you’re such a nice guy’ means ‘I’m going to be dating leather-wearing alcoholics and complaining about them to you’! Not speaking from personal experience or anything.”

“Or how ‘I think we should see other people’ means ‘hah! I already am!’” Phoebe added.

“And everybody just knows this? Y/N, you’re the smart one. Is this true?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I’d say it’s less about the phrase itself and more about how people use it nowadays. Nobody says ‘you’re such a nice guy’ without some sort of intention of friendzoning them, right?” 

Rachel still appeared miffed, so Joey piped up, “Yeah, it cushions the blow.”

“Like when you’re a kid and your parents put your old dog to sleep and they tell you it went off to live on some farm,” Chandler explained.

From opposite you, Ross’ eyes lit up. “That’s funny, because our parents actually did send our dog off to live on a farm!”

The rest of the group stared at him. 

“Uh, Ross—?” Monica started.

“Hello? The Milner’s farm in Connecticut? You don’t remember that? The Milners, they had this unbelievable farm and they had horses and rabbits that he could chase and…” The words died on his tongue as it slowly began to dawn upon him. “Oh, my God, Chi-Chi!”

The couch sank beneath your weight as you sat down, Joey’s script in hand.

“How could you do this to me, Tom? I thought we were best friends,” you read off the paper, trying your best not to laugh at Joey’s concentrated expression.

Joey was walking around with his hands perched on his hips, uttering the next line, “I was never only your friend. I loved you.”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment, before you allowed a smile to break through.

“That was great, Jo!”

“Yeah?” He cuffed you on the shoulder with a genuine grin. “Let’s keep going.”

It was then that Chandler walked out from his room, waving hello to you. “What’re you two doing?”

“Practicing,” Joey replied. “Got a big audition coming up.”

Clearing your throat, you read the next line, standing up so you’d be able to face Joey. “What do you expect me to say, Tom?”

Joey shook his head, shoulders slumping. You couldn’t help but be impressed at how quickly he could fall into character. “Tell me you love me back.”

“I…” You stared at him, watching the way his gaze would dart from your eyes to your lips, and back up again. Man, he was a great actor. “I can’t tell you that.”

He sighed, resigned. “Then I’m going out for a smoke.”

Brandishing a cigarette from his pocket, he used a lighter to set off the end, before inhaling sharply. Not a second later, he was coughing with a grimace plastered across his face. “Damn it! How am I ever going to get the part if I don’t know how to smoke properly? This tastes awful.”

“Relax your hand,” Chandler chimed, sitting down on the couch. “Let your wrist go. No, wait, not so much. Alright, good. Now try taking a puff.”

Inhaling softly this time, Joey looked to the side, white plumes falling from the edges of his lips. He coughed once more. “Nope, no. I hate this!”

“Okay, no, give it to me.”

“I’m not giving you a cigarette!” Joey protested, pulling his arm away.

“No, it’s fine. You wanna get this part or not?”

You sat back down, grinning. “If it’s any motivation, I think smoking is hot. I don’t find smokers hot because, you know—lung cancer and everything—but the act of smoking? That’s hot.”

Joey narrowed his eyes at you, before reluctantly handing Chandler the cigarette.

“Alright, don’t think of it as a cigarette. Think of it as the thing that has been missing from your hand. When you’re holding it, you feel right. You feel complete.” Slowly, he brought it up to his mouth to take a puff, and as soon as his lips touched the end, he let out a loud groan as he exhaled. “Oh, my God.”

You had to wrestle him to take the cigarette away before he could breathe in any more. 

Later that night, you were back at Central Perk, sitting by Monica, who had her hand extended out in front of her. “They say that it’s from the tip of a guy’s thumb to the tip of his index finger.”

The three men, Ross, Chandler, and Joey, began extending their own hands, looking at the distance with disdain. 

You chortled a laugh when Ross asked if he could use either thumb.

Rachel strode up to the couches with a tray full of drinks. “Alright, don’t tell me! Decaf cappuccino for Joey, black coffee for Ross, latte for Chandler, peppermint mocha for Y/N, and an iced tea for Monica!”

She handed out each drink with a proud grin, and none of you had the heart to tell her that she had gotten every drink mixed up—save for yours. You began nursing your mocha with a small grin to her.

“I’m getting pretty good at this!” she exclaimed. God, she was so cute, you thought fondly as she walked away to take another customer’s order.

When her back was turned, the drinks were finally switched around, and you watched in amusement as they hurriedly exchanged mugs. It was then that Phoebe walked in, making incoherent noises and hands fluttering about as she muttered.

“You okay, Phoebe?” asked Joey. 

She waved him away. “Yeah, no, it’s not even worth—okay, I guess I’ll tell you guys about it. It’s my bank!”

Monica leaned forward. “What did they do to you?”

“I open up my mail and look at my monthly statement, and there’s five hundred extra dollars in my account!”

“Congrats!” you exclaimed just as Chandler sarcastically gasped out, “Satan’s minions at work again!”

“Now I have to go down there and deal with them,” Phoebe moped.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” crowed Joey. “Keep it!”

Vehemently, Phoebe shook her head. “No, it’s not mine! I didn’t earn it! If I kept it, it’d be like stealing!”

Rachel came back around with a cup of coffee, leaning over to tell Phoebe, “Yeah, but if you spent it, it’d be like shopping!” 

“Okay, but I’d never be able to enjoy it, you know? It’d be like this giant karmic debt!” she cried out, clearly frustrated with the entire ordeal. 

You would’ve replied with something to comfort her, but the thought was torn from you when you noticed Chandler awkwardly bent over the couch, as if trying to hide something.

“Dude, what are you doing?” you asked, peering over to look. “Damn it, Chandler!” you yelled, grabbing him by the belt and hauling him upright. 

With a roll of his eyes, he sat up, white smoke falling from his mouth as he blew out, defeated.

“Gross!” Monica yelled.

“You’ve been so good for three years, I can’t believe you!” said Phoebe. 

“And this,” Chandler held up the cigarette, “is my reward!”

Shaking his head, Ross held a hand out. “Hold on a second, remember what happened the last time you quit?”

“Okay, so this time I won’t quit! If anything, you should be angry at Joey and Y/N, they were smoking it all up in our apartment this morning!”

The two of you gasped. “No, we weren’t! I hate smoking!” Joey yelled. “Y/N was the one that said smoking was hot!”

You smacked his arm. “The act of it is, actual smokers aren’t hot! Don’t you remember what I said about lung cancer? Chandler, don’t pin the blame on us, you chose to smoke!”

Exasperated, Chandler groaned. “Fine. I’m putting it out.” He threw the cigarette into Phoebe’s coffee, much to her dismay. 

“Alright,” Monica said, inching away from the group. “I gotta change—I’ve got a date soon.” You briefly remembered her mentioning that things hadn’t gone so well with Paul, so she was exploring the dating pool once again.

“Is this Alan again?” Rachel asked excitedly. “How’s it going?”

A smile spread across Monica’s features. “It’s going good! He’s nice.” 

“So when do we get to meet the guy?” asked Joey.

“Hm…” Monica tapped a finger against her lips. “Never. See you guys!”

“Come on!” the group exclaimed after her. 

“No!” she said. “Not after what happened with Steve!”

Snorting, Chandler shook his head. “What are you talking about? We loved Shteve. Shteve wash shexy!”

The rest of the group hid their laughter behind cups of coffee. 

“Look, I don’t even know how I feel about him yet. Just give me a chance to figure it out.”

“Then we can meet him?” asked Rachel, hopeful.

Monica grinned. “Nope! Bye, guys!” With that, she skipped out of the cafe. 

You drank the rest of your mocha, placing the mug onto the table and leaving a large tip for Rachel beneath the cup—you were honestly quite flattered that out of all the orders, she had gotten yours right. 

“I better get going, too.”

“What?” asked Joey. “Where are you going?”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck. “Work.”

Ross arched a brow. “I thought you said you had the day off today. What’s going on?”

“Oh, my God!” Phoebe exclaimed. “You’re seeing someone!”

The group burst out into a dozen questions at once and you held your hands up. “Woah, woah! I’m not seeing someone, I just—” 

“Is it that waitress that gave you her number?” Joey interrupted, a bit less enthusiastic than everybody else. 

Heat crawled up your neck and festered into your face. “Yeah, but it’s not a date,” you sighed. “It’s just a casual meet up.”

“So… sex,” Chandler deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, sex. Don’t be such a child about it.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rachel gasped, resting a hand on your arm. “And why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, a little whiny. 

“Around, uh, a week, I think? And I didn’t tell you because it just feels… I don’t know, embarrassing?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to be embarrassed around us!”

Joey blanched. “A week? How many times have you guys done it?”

“Oh, God, Joey, I’m not going to tell you about my sex life. I’m running late already—I’ll see you guys later!”

With that, you practically dashed out of the cafe, heart beating irregularly quickly and cheeks set aflame.

“Do you all promise?” 

Ross rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mon, we promise we’ll be good.”

You nodded with a sweet smile in hopes of quelling her growing anxiety of letting her closest friends meet a guy she was dating. 

Not a second later, Phoebe stormed into Monica’s apartment, sitting down right beside you and showing you a letter from her bank. 

“Dear Ms. Buffay, thank you for calling attention to our error. We have credited your account five hundred dollars. We’re sorry for the inconvenience, and hope you’ll accept this football phone as our free gift.” She pulled out a large brown phone in the shape of, what do you know, a football, looking so cross you could’ve sworn steam was coming out of her ears. “Can you believe this? Now I have a thousand dollars and a football phone!”

Blinking in astonishment, Rachel snatched the letter from you, exclaiming, “What bank is this?”

The door rang, cutting any further questions about Phoebe’s strange bank off. 

“He’s here!” Rachel exclaimed, throwing the letter away somewhere behind her, clapping her hands excitedly.

Before Monica opened the door, she clasped her hands together and addressed the entire group. “Please be good. Please? Remember how much you like me and try not to make fun of him too much.”

“So?” Monica started, anxiously brushing dark strands of hair away from her face. “Let the Alan-bashing begin. Who’s gonna take the first shot?”

The group awkwardly glanced at each other, strangely silent. 

If you had to admit, you rather liked Alan. He was funny, charming, and had real pretty eyes.

“I’ll go,” said Ross. “Let’s start with the way he kept… ugh, no, I’m sorry, I can’t. Can’t do it! We loved him.”

The rest of them chimed in their agreement enthusiastically.

“Wait a minute, we’re talking about someone that I’m going out with?” Monica asked, incredulous.

“Know what was great? The way his smile was kind of crooked,” Joey sighed, dreamily looking off into space. 

With a scoff, you slapped his thigh. “Watch it, Joey. Wouldn’t want you catching feelings for Monica’s boyfriend here.”

“Jealous, much? Want me all to yourself?” he asked flirtatiously, leaning down closer to you. You wrinkled your nose and shoved him away.

The rest of the group began chattering about Alan again, and how he did the best impression of David Hasselhoff.

You turned back to Joey. “Both of us know you can’t stick to one person, Jo.” Your words were meant to be teasing and light-hearted, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Joey’s face fell just a bit at your words.

“I can stick to you,” he said, uncharacteristically softly, fingers threading between yours. “You’re a pretty sticky person, you know?”

“Har, har, har. That’s funny, Joey,” you crooned sarcastically. “Also really gross. Don’t call me sticky ever again.”

Joey smiled at you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You decided not to say anything about it, and turned your attention back to the group and listened to them fawn over Alan.

Back at Central Perk, you had just come out of the bathroom in time to hear the gang berating Chandler for smoking again, and you sat down between Ross and Joey on the large couch. 

“This is so unfair,” Chandler barked, blowing out white plumes of smoke. “So I have a flaw—big fucking deal! Like Joey’s constant knuckle-cracking isn’t annoying? Or Ross, with his over-pronouncing every goddamn word! And Monica, with that snort when she laughs! Or when Y/N refuses to get Chinese takeout because they use styrofoam containers and they hate the sound of styrofoam! I haven’t had Chinese takeout in months! I accept all of those flaws, why can’t you accept me for this?”

The entire group pursed their lips and dejectedly hung their heads in silence.

“You can just order Chinese takeout on your own,” you grumbled under your breath. “You don’t always have to have me there.”

“Yeah, well, then I’d feel bad!” replied Chandler, crossing his arms like a child. “I’d be chewing on my pork dumplings and thinking—man, I betrayed one of my closest friends for this.”

“Does the knuckle cracking bother everybody, or just him?” asked Joey, hands glued firmly to his sides, as if he had to consciously remind himself not to crack them. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you faked a look of reassurance, before deadpanning, “We could live without it, Jo.”

“Is it just a little annoying? Or is it like when Phoebe chews her hair?”

As if on cue, Phoebe spat out locks of blonde that she was working between her teeth. You coughed to hide your growing smile. 

“Don’t listen to him, Pheebs, alright? I think it’s endearing,” said Ross.

Joey frowned, then spoke again, over-enunciating each word. “Oh, you do, do you?”

Monica snort-laughed, which made Chandler gesture erratically towards her. 

“There’s nothing wrong with speaking correctly!” Ross defended.

“Indeed, there isn’t!” Rachel proudly gesticulated, also poking fun at Ross with overstretched syllables. At Ross’ withering glare, she squeaked, “I should really get back to work!” 

“Otherwise, someone might get what they actually ordered,” Phoebe muttered quietly, but not quiet enough for Rachel not to hear.

The brunette’s jaw dropped. “Oh, so the hair comes out and the gloves come on!”

The entire group burst into a raucous argument, and you found yourself somehow defending and protesting against both Phoebe and Joey at the same time. From the corner of your eye, you could see Chandler get up and walk away with a skip in his step, and a lit cigarette in hand.

It was a little past two in the morning. You had barely thrown anything on except for a worn black hoodie and a pair of jeans that had holes in the pockets. But you just needed to leave—it felt like you couldn’t breathe in your own apartment.

A part of you considered going to Monica’s. 

But for some reason unbeknownst to you, you found yourself in front of Joey’s bedroom, having gotten through their front door with an emergency spare key they had given you. This wasn’t really an emergency, but you’ve used it for lesser reasons.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you knocked on the door.

A couple seconds later, a groggy Joey swung it open, dark hair messily strewn over his head. He was rubbing his fists into his eyes, muffling a yawn as he said, “Oh, hi, Y/N. You missed a lot this afternoon—Chandler quit smoking, Phoebe found a thumb in a can of soda and got seven thousand bucks for it, Monica broke up with Alan and I’m obviously devastated about it but—”

He immediately stopped in his brief recap of the day when he finally looked at you properly, noticing the way your eyes were puffy and red, as if you’d been crying. There were dried tear tracks on your cheeks, barely visible beneath the dim moonlight streaming through the window across the room. 

“Hey, hey,” his hands were on your shoulders instantly, roping you closer to him in a warm embrace. You buried your head into his chest, lips trembling as you staved away the burning urge to sob right into him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Gently, he led you into his room, sitting you down on his bed. 

“I don’t even know… it’s not that big of a deal, I just… felt so overwhelmed,” you croaked, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

“What happened?” he asked, sitting down beside you and slinging a protective arm over your back. 

“You remember that waitress that I had a thing with?”

Joey hummed.

“Well, she’s married. And she’s got a kid. I didn’t know, obviously. I just… I don’t know. She told me while we were messing around, like—how fucked up is that? I mean, it’s bad enough that you’re using me to cheat on someone that you’ve got a kid with, but it’s even worse to bring that up while we were… doing it, you know? I told her to leave and she begged me to hear her out. She wouldn’t go, and got angry at me for some fucking reason, so I told her I’d leave the apartment and if she wasn’t gone by the time I got back I’d call the cops on her. I know it wasn’t really my fault but—I still feel terrible about it. I don’t want to be the reason a family falls apart, Joey.” 

You were shaking against him, and a stray tear meandered down your cheek. 

There wasn’t really much Joey could say. He was never very good at comforting people.

He pressed a kiss to your cold forehead, brushing away haphazard strands of hair. 

“You wanna stay over?” he offered, patting his bed. “I can sleep on the couch.”

Wordlessly, you pulled back his comforter and laid down, exhausted beyond relief. 

Joey patted your back one more time for good measure, before getting up to head to the living room.

“No,” you mumbled, hand loosely wrapping around his wrist. “Please stay here with me.”

Hesitant, he asked, “You sure?”

Joey never got a response—you had already fallen asleep. With a shrug, he slid into the bed beside you, winding his arms over you and cradling you from behind. His nose pressed into your shoulder and he inhaled sharply, noting with pleasant surprise that you smelled like blueberries. 

“Good night, Y/N.”

You shifted in his hold so that your arm laid over his that was thrown over your waist. 

Joey fell into an easy, dreamless sleep in no less than a minute.

[writingcold]

Bound

AU Jake X Chris slash 

A/N: At the announcement of Mirador, and that first picture of Jake and Chris, my brain went to the following blurb. I have been working on an AU currently titled The Dead. This story is about soulmates that have been cursed to live apart - and at the time of story, they have lived many lifetimes apart. Within the story there are 6 versions of our Jake set in many different eras, just as there are 6 different versions of Maéva - the Y/N character. It has been so fun to write! But I am rambling. The point is, the following blurb is just ONE of the lifetimes that Jake has across 400 years. I was only going to share it with a few friends, but then @katuschka, @its-interesting-van-kleep and @thewritingbeforesunrise really have thrown their support behind me and this blurb. The rest I’ve shared with - you know who you are - are such an amazing group, so I hope they enjoy the revisited blurb. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, polished it, honed it a little more. This will NOT be in the story proper, it’ll be mentioned, but not known to the main character. At least at this point, it is not. Our secret. And as always, thank you to @edgingthedarkness for listening to me carry on and on and on and on… and on about this story and being so patient with me over the mess that it is. 

***This is an 18+ story for adults only. This is a blurb of Yakov Petrov (Jake) and Christian Hertel (Chris Turpin inspired). It is an AU set in time when Michigan was voted in as a state.***

Content warnings: Sexual situations m/m, oral, unprotected sexual situations, a little angsty (of course, and loops back to the actual story), a touch of Yakov (Jake) being a brat.

Word count: approximately 2600

Journal Entry - Yakov Petrov, June 1862

     The commission had come in August of 1854 to survey the new territories of the northwest. Christian had reservations, but the money would be good, lodging and food was included. He had enough hands to set out like a grand jungle expedition into the wilds of the unexplored lands of the United States. I did not understand his reservations. To set out into the wilderness that only those native to the land had known? What adventure. What a privilege to see and paint and study. But, my Christian was the one who gained the commission, not I. It would be his decision to go and his decision to take whom he felt would be fitting to the project. Just because we shared our appetites with each other, did not mean that I would attend the expedition. 

     We had boarded the ship in Boston, May of 1855, that would take us first to New York, then up through the St. Lawrence Seaway, into Lake Ontario. We’d then follow the Niagara River to Lake Huron. From Lake Huron, we’d find ourselves on the Detroit River to finally push our way into Lake Michigan. Detroit would be our destination for a fashion. Christian had called it our last stop of frayed civilization before traversing into the untamed wilds of the north lands. 

     I will not be untrue - being aboard those ships brought me a joy from the core of my spirit, but a mournfulness as well. I felt this joy to be old, sunk down in the marrow of my bones and beyond me in a way that was confusing and best forgotten the moment my feet touched the land of Detroit. We were housed in what was considered a grand house of the region, but after such luxury in Boston and Philadelphia, I was finding myself holding my tongue from spoiled and rude comments. A tent in the grand garden of our townhome would have been more comfortable.

     A month of those conditions prepared us for the path before us. We had native guides and set out with a troupe of sixteen hands to carry and maintain our academic venture. Christian was a marvel in his organization of those men. He wanted to start at the northern point of Sault Ste. Marie. That meant more travel by water, which was fine. The commission demanded each step be documented - not just in paint and charcoal, but recording for scientific reasons, the flora and fauna, the animals, the geography. All of it was to be recorded and sent to Washington, DC, for study. That was to be our nature of work, and we would follow it to the letter.

     My foot touched the aged pier of Sault Ste. Marie and I felt an illness within that I could not explain. Christian wanted to send me home to Boston, I was so taken. I took to a bed in a passable inn and shook with a fright that I could not shake. It was in my blood. It invaded my breath. I sent Christian on with the promise that I would catch up if he were to leave me a guide. I was behind him by weeks, only, but in that time, my soul seemed to cry over the wild, windswept land that was this already old place. I found myself walking upon the grounds of a once great shipmaster’s house that overlooked the great lake of Superior. The French manor house that barely clung to its elaborate balconies, was a ruin. It was a ghost of memories that seemed to dance and toy with any and all who passed it by, eliciting the imagination of grand balls and fancy turns of women’s voluminous skirts. 

      It was on this scrap of field that I felt it for the first time, an ache that would go on to haunt me the rest of the journey. I set up my easel and painted what I saw: the town and the port beyond this desolate beauty that hurt my spirit for unknown reasons. Perhaps it colored my stroke a bit, leaving me with a melancholy piece that once set, was boxed and housed to make its way back to the capital. This ache was ever present as I finally was well enough to move across the peninsula to catch up with Christian. It was a dogged feeling that I knew this land as sure as I knew myself. Odd, as I never had been anywhere except the grand cities of the east coast.

     It was a reunion of quiet touches and catching up when I did finally reach the party. My Christian was always so enigmatic when it came to our relations. He might one day grasp me by my whole body and not let go without a laugh and caresses that were never hidden, while the next, may only be in the form of a clandestine brush of the back of his hand against my thigh. I did not mind. It kept me guessing and intrigued and returning to him for more. This reunion, however, he walked away from me as if upset. I followed him, calling his name like a wounded puppy might.

     I followed into the deep woods, where the light dappled on the ground as if fighting to penetrate with its goodness. I suddenly realized, goodness was not meant to see what he needed, nor wanted from me. His mouth crashed into mine with a carnal anger that left me breathless and needing more. No coherent words passed between us. Only desperate touches and demanding utterances graced us as he nearly tore my clothes from my body. His fingers knocked my hat from my head and his eyes stilled in absolute offense.

      “Damn it. Why did you cut it, Yakov?” he growled as he discovered my hair much shorter than when he had left me.

      He tugged it at the roots, pulling my head back to expose my throat to him. He ravaged my skin, leaving not an inch untouched. My man knelt in the black dirt and sucked me down, leaving me ruined and ready for him and only him to love as only he could love me. He kissed and lapped and ground his mouth on me until I was nearly weeping and close to orgasm before he clutched me with a kiss that was full of passion. He wrapped his hand around both of our girths and began to rub hard. Feeling his cock against mine was one of my favorite things, and to have him eye to eye with me, reading my face as he fed my need was near otherworldly. My love poured out on the air in my sighs and moans of pleasure.

      He turned me, helped me to find my hands on the gnarled bark of a tree. His mouth sucked at my shoulder with promises of love and adoration as his cock found my entrance. And he loved me. He penetrated me in a hard press that filled me with a desire that no one had ever given me. He loved me. Each in was demanding while each out was a caress and need for more. Yes. He loved me. And when we both reached a pitch that could no longer be staved off, we danced in ecstasy as our high crescendoed into a shared gratification. He held me and I held onto him in the dirt. Our skin was inflamed with joy and our words gentle towards each other. 

     My fingers tangled in his sun kissed golden hair and smoothed across the manicured mustache that resided over his lip. How many days had I woken to this face only to be so enraptured by it each and every time. And he looked upon me the same. His fingers in my dark brown threads, even though I had cut it quite short, and across the hair on my chin. Always with such love. Always with such care.

     We worked our way across spidery waterways. Through dense forests and broad meadows. One word was always on my tongue - beautiful. There was no green like it on the wind battered east coast. Surely, this virginal green was unlike anything on this fledgling continent. It was strong against the eye, yet the wind pushed it as if with a whisper of promise of what settling it would provide. Eagles, in grand mass, relegated in towering pines, while the deer were thick in numbers, grazed unaware of the dangers that were to come. Industry was waiting. It was our purpose to sell the dream of this ground to industry. Christian both hated the idea, but loved it for what riches it would bring to the region. Hated for it would surely be destroyed under the bootheel of man. Loved it, as he captured the most natural golden beauty through our work.

      We had been in the wilds for well over a month. We pushed our way south, sketching, recording, painting. Day after day brought something new to be cataloged. Something new to be puzzled over. But most of all, captured. We were capturing the spirit and nature of this land. 

      The cold came swiftly in this region. Our party was forced to choose - build cabins and wait out the harshness of winter, or try to rush to the south and east to Detroit before the ice bound up the land and winter there. Christian ordered for cabins to be built - we were to settle and capture a winter’s season in the new land. We were not the only ones in this region. A new village was chartered and was beginning to grow as the last of our timbers were set in place for our shelters. I spent hours sketching and painting - even putting in the men as they labored. Frankenmuth. They were going to call the village Frankenmuth, so I titled the painting as such.

      I knew hard winters. I knew winters where the sun seemed to extinguish itself for days on end and the ocean would lash at the shore in unrelenting undulation that was sure to tear permanently at the land. But this - this winter in this land of Michigan was beyond me. There were moments of crystalline beauty and desperate cruelty of storms that lingered. Christian laughed at my poetic rendering of what was around us, but it is what it was. Horrid. But beautiful. 

      The spring of 1856 was slow to thaw. Despite there being still snow on the ground, Christian and I were out, wrapped in heavy furs and easels in hand to sketch the landscape. It was midafternoon before I realized that he had put me into the picture he created. I laughed at him as he gazed at his work with an eye that I knew well. He was smitten with me, still. He had started to apply paint here and there, but he left it unfinished as my ministrations to him had become too blatant for him to ignore. My usual trick to get him to love me rather than paint me.

      On the eve of our resumed expedition, he held me with the lament of wanting me to be his forever. He wanted to marry me as he would a wife. He seemed so adamant and passionate about it. We were together, that was enough for me. 

       He became sullen and started to argue with me. He pulled away and it was as if the Earth was pulling away from the moon. He was unconsolable in the moment about how I was changing with this land. I was changing? How? He said to look at his drawing, how I looked to the land like it was my lover. I was baffled. He said that I would talk in my sleep about love. At first he thought that it was himself that was causing my midnight sighs and caresses. 

     “Unless my name is suddenly changed to Maéva, I doubt very much that it is I who is featured in your deepest dreams, Yakov,” he had argued.  

     “But if you’re angry about dreams, surely you see the absurdity of your argument,” I fought back, showing that I was totally unaware of what he was talking about.

      I smoothed back his hair, dragging my fingernails over that patch of skin just behind the shell of his ear. I watched as he quivered under my touch. I pressed kisses to his furrowed brow, cooing and whispering my love. I promised that I would be his husband and he would be mine in our hearts. It would be enough. I took his tongue into my mouth, sucking it hard enough to elicit a soft chirp. I relished the taste of his creamy skin, passing my mouth across the sparse, downy patch in the middle of his chest. 

      “I want you to quit cutting your hair,” he growled as I found his cock with my lips. “Why do you cut it when it’s so pretty?”

       I pressed behind his ball sack hard as I slid my mouth up the shaft with a saucy pop. “Ever think it’s to make you upset with me, Chris?”

       His eyes pinched at the edges as I looked up at him, my chin coming to rest on his thigh. He trailed his fingers down my cheek. I knew what he wanted of me. I knew and so I took him into my mouth until I was downright slobbering. I spit into his entrance as he moaned loudly, egging me on. I wrapped my hands around his thighs to spread him enough for me to enter him. And we made love, face to face.  My eyes roved across his lean body, loving each turn of bone and stretch of skin. The way his mouth stretched with pleasure, and how the head of his cock peeked out as he stroked himself tightly as I moved with confidence within him. I bent, his thighs pressed hard around my hips as I lapped at the precum on his head with a moan of satisfaction. The hard inhale of breath and I knew one more trick to send him into another plane. I swirled my tongue over the head as I pressed in, snapping my hips into his rump. My fingers dug at the meat of his flanks as I dragged my tongue over the softness of his belly, circling across his nipple before sinking my teeth into the flesh of his shoulder to unravel each other until we were a complete mess.

       In the darkness, he slept well as I held him close. I listened to his breathing for hours. It was shame that kept me stirred. He was not wrong about how this land was claiming me. This woman - Maéva -  was haunting me in my slumber. The meaning of it was so blurred. It made me hold to him all the tighter. It was him that I loved. I belonged with him. He understood me best. Yet, this woman was a memory of deep time. She belonged to another time, another existence. I knew it deep in my bones, just as I had felt the joy of crossing all those rivers to come to this land. But my heart was cleaved in two, wasn’t it? A fractured shard that belonged to one that was not in my time of now. It was that piece that I could never surrender to my Christian. And he was mine. I pressed my face into the mass of golden hair to allow his perfume to swell around me. He was mine.

I hope you liked my tangent here into Yakov’s life. It was such a tangent that strangled me, and continues to play in my brain even though this is pretty much it for Cake Lane in this story. I’m not sure when The Dead will be ready to go. Life has been so busy, making writing time sporadic, but I’m getting there. I will be putting out a new tag list sign up when we’re closer to release, but for now, this will remain tag-less as it's just a one off. Until then - happy reading, happy writing, happy creating!

[ricksswhore]

Ever since you had arrived at Alexandria with the rest of the group, Rick had been avoiding you, a few nights had past and everyone had moved into the neighbouring houses, apart from you, Rick, Judith, Carl who stayed together. It confused you how Rick was ignoring you despite choosing you to stay with him.

You assumed it was just his worries and him being too busy to talk, but you saw how he treated the rest of the group, stopping to talk with Daryl and Michonne whenever he had the time, and he seemed to be content with making sure everyone else was cared for, except you. Sure he talked with you a few times, mostly about Judith and Carl, and checked in to see how you were adjusting, but it's the little things you noticed, like how he never came home until everyone was asleep. Despite your hard work to gain his attention he would only gaze over you for a few seconds before moving on and making himself busy.

Rage and sickness built up in you, overthinking all the reasons why he might not want your attention, maybe he didn't think much of you? maybe now he was settled, and didn't need you anymore as a friend to console in? You laid in bed till early in the mornings, waiting hopelessly for him to suddenly arrive and hold you in an embrace as he rarely used to. But he never did. You know he used to worry about your age, and told you he shouldn't be too close to you because it's not really what you wanted, you were too young. He would reject any protests you had to this, knowing yourself that his age didn't matter to you.

It was 7am and you laid lazily in the middle of the bed, the sun blazing through the curtains as you awoke to find yourself alone. There was a greeting party this evening, planned by Deanna to make everyone feel more invited here. It was doubtful that it would work for most of the group who were still on edge, mostly Daryl and Carl, who would frequently warn Rick that the risks were still here. You didn't see the point of making a big celebration , as if the group didn't have other things to think about, but Rick had mentioned already that you were both to go together. This idea sparked something in you, maybe tonight you will finally get him to pay attention to you. You sat upright planning through the day ahead, you were on watch in half an hour, covering for Rosita, and after that you had  time to get ready and prepare yourself.

The heat was unbearable as you sat at the watch tower, sweating despite wearing the shortest shorts you owned and a tank top. You rubbed your forehead and gazed around, it had been mostly clear all day, only a couple walkers in the distance who were cleared without even coming within 10 meters. You turned and saw Daryl and Carol, sat with judith on her lap, down by one of the houses. You were close with them both, they taught you how to perfect your shot and use a knife in the most effective way, and were usually caring towards you.

You had noticed the way Daryl looked, the way his muscles flexed while he worked on his bike, but you couldn't help comparing him to Rick, and how he was so much more assertive and enchanting than Daryl. His piercing blue eyes and dark curls being the first thing you noticed, down to his broad shoulders and steady hands. You blushed at the thought of him next to you, his hand on your waist-

"y/n? what are you looking at?" you looked down to see Carol standing with Judith on her hip, looking up at you with her brows furrowed. "I need help with Judith, do you mind taking her, i have some things to do." she spoke assertively, it was more like a statement than a question.

"Oh, sure." you said, disappointed to be snapped out of your daydreaming, "can you take my watch?" you spoke to Abraham who was lazily stood near the gate lighting a cigarette. He mumbled a yes as you shifted down the ladder. You took Judith in your arms as Carol muttered a thanks. You were slightly too young to desire your own children yet, but you couldn't deny the motherly instinct you felt towards Judith and Carl, feeling like their caregiver since the prison. Judith held a special place for you as you were there for her since her birth, and you could tell she was your favourite too as you could always get her to stop crying when the others couldn't.

"let's go back home, yeah?" you cooed at her. As you walked back, you were surprised to pass Daryl out by his motorbike, who was talking with Rick. You stopped as you saw him, he was usually on runs or with Deanna and Spencer, talking to them about plans for this place. They both turned to look at you and you felt Ricks eyes gaze steadily over your body, and glide down to your shorts.

"Y'alright?" Daryl asked you,

“Mhm, just about to take Judith home and get ready for the thing tonight." You looked expectantly at Rick, who snapped away from his gaze and looked at Judith in your arms. You felt his eyes soften as he walked towards you and placed a hand on her cheek, "how is she?" he asked. She had been sick with hunger when we arrived due to the long travel which had worried him more than anything else. "She's feeling better," you reassured. He looked up and met his eyes with yours, you felt your heart flutter and a low burn in your stomach, as you realised how close you were standing to his towering figure. You could almost feel his warm scent as you inched towards him, excited as you finally received recognition, but he snapped away and turned to Daryl again. Feeling the loss of the moment, the burning within you turned to rage, as you turned and carried on walking over to the house, feeling their eyes follow you.

You peered over into Judith's cot, seeing her steady breathing as she slept, Carl beside you.

"Where's dad?" he looked at you and questioned.

"He should be here," you sighed painfully, turning to look in the mirror, hiding how disappointed you felt and preparing doubtfully for the night ahead. You dressed in a short black dress, which hugged you in all the right areas, despite having lost all intent on gaining Ricks attention after todays interaction and him now standing you up.

"Ready?" you turned to Carl, smiling brightly as he picked up Judith. You practiced breathing and gathered yourself, determined to have a good mood, despite heading to the party without Rick. Carl grabbed your hand and smiled reassuringly as we headed out.

The sky was turning dark, but the air was still summery, as you were stood with the group talking amongst yourselves. Deanna had introduced you to many of the people who were here before, walking you round with her. They all seemed like nice people, but they were very sheltered to the outside world and it made you wonder if they could fight if they had to. You had searched the room for Rick, and doing the same as you he had been mingling with the people of the town. But for the past half hour, he had been stood leaning against a wall, talking to a blonde woman, you felt a pit of jealousy and longing in your stomach as you questioned again why he had all the time in the world for others, but not you. He looked over and you met his eyes from across the room , his eyes had a distant look, and were more grey than his usual sharp blue but he had a slanted smile on his face. You snapped your eyes away first, feeling overcome with annoyance, and made your way to the booze table where Abraham sat, who had obviously had too much already.

"Hey sugar," he spouted clumsily, "you look pissed," he stumbled over to you, thudding the table as he moved, making the drink you were pouring topple over. You looked at him unimpressed and he placed his hand on the side of your shoulder, "I'm always here if you need something, anythin." he trailed his hand slowly down your arm. You shrugged him off as you realised he was more drunk than anyone here. "Abraham you should head home, you're acting stupid," you chuckled, watching him as he almost stumbled over onto you. You grabbed his arm firmly and guided him through the room towards the door, earning a couple amusing looks from the group. Rosita followed you out and grabbed his other arm, "Jesus Abraham, could you not of paced yourself, it's barely even 10," she chuckled to him as he groaned at the movement and fell to the ground.

"Let me sit," he grunted.

"I can make sure he gets back okay, thanks y/n," she smiled at me gratefully, "you can head back to the party."

"Actually I was gonna head home, a bit tired from today," you smiled faintly, "just tell em i felt sick or something." Rosita nodded at me as you headed down the pavement towards home. Rick hadn't even spoke a word to you the entire time, what's the use in staying any longer than needed?

As you got home, you poured yourself a glass of wine, feeling comfort in the silence and safety of your home. You leaned against the counter and held your head in your hands, overwhelmed with confusion and pent up frustration. Ten minutes past and you were thinking about a second glass, seeing as you didn't have any drinks at the party, just as you heard the front door open. You put your glass down steadily and called out, "Carl? Why are you back early?" but he didn't respond. You instinctively grabbed a kitchen knife from the side of the counter, as Deanna insisted on all combat weapons being shut away, to keep the peace in the neighbourhood. "y/n?" a rough voice called out expectantly. Rick....

You placed the knife down with a tired yet relieved sigh and walked across the room to pour yourself a second glass.

You heard his coarse steps enter the room, "what do you want, rick?" you asked.

"why did you leave?" he returned wearily.

"Why didn't I leave earlier? ," you groaned lightly, turning towards him.

"I saw how Abraham looked, sorry you had to deal with that," he spoke with a hint of jealousy, walking towards you gradually until he was inches away from you.

"Abraham wasn't the problem," you snapped, making him furrow his brow in confusion,

“what else?" he asked

"What else!" you laughed, "what else? You have ignored me for days, you barely give me a second glance, and a conversation is out of the picture. You stood me up today, after I was hoping tonight we would talk properly. I'm tired of this day after day, just tell me that you don't want me anymore and i’ll stay with carol and michonne," your rambled and looked up at him, his face looked concerned but distant.

"y/n..." he spoke effortlessly.

You turned around again to face the counter, sipping from your glass, as he reached his hand to cup your waist and you felt a bolt of shock rush up your spine at this sudden touch. He feels your body tense up to his touch, "y/n you know I want you" he whispered, his face now close to my ear, as his second hand drifted around the other side of your waist. You relaxed to the words you had been needing to hear, melting into his familiar scent. "But I cant give you what you need, it's not right" he sighed and released his hands from your side. You turned around and grabbed his arm firmly, not letting him leave like this. You knew he felt wrong about your age before, but you didn't realise he felt it so strongly. "That's what this is about?" you asked, stunned. He looked at you painfully, his eyes sharp and staring into yours with longing. "Rick, you know that doesn't matter to me, I want to be with you more than anything, you can't take that away from me," you reassured, placing your hand on his chest.

"I know you want to be with me y/n, that's why I wanted you with me in this house, but when it comes to you I lose my control, I don't want you to regret your experiences, or realise later that you didn't want what I can give you," you looked up at him, stunned to realise he wasn't just talking about my company, but more than that, which we had never even discussed before. You felt your cheeks burn red and released your grasp on him. You realised that this whole time, he was just worried he was going to take advantage of you. You looked up at him again as his gaze softened. "I do want it Rick, and I can make my own choices, I would never regret anything with you," you spoke softly, as he reached to place his hand on your cheek, leaning down to move his lips against yours gently. His beard tickled your skin and you flushed at the sudden contact of his lips, kissing deeper and craving more.

The bottom of your stomach burned intensely and you felt yourself growing damp as he moved his hands up your hips, grasping and pulling your thighs up on top of the counter. You could feel his kiss becoming hungry and rougher, before moving his lips to your neck where he sucked longingly. You gasped, finally feeling his attention completely on you, consuming you, and pushed your hips towards him where you were greeted with his bulge pressing against you. He groaned and pulled away, looking frustrated with himself, "Rick, im sure."

He looked at you, judging your complexion carefully as he gathered himself and moved his hand to your lower back, pulling you further towards him. Your hands travelled from around his neck to drag down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, his kisses slowed and he looked into your eyes warily. You understood his worries, you'd had little experience with sex, and those times were with boys, who also had little experience, but you felt more strongly about Rick than you'd ever felt for anyone else, he made you feel safe.

Frustrated with his hesitation, you grew needy, not wanting him to stop, "Rick i want more," you spoke, moving one of your hands softly to cup his bulge, his jeans tightening more at your touch, "you're sure?" he asked, looking down at how small your hand would be in comparison to his erection, again questioning if you are too young.

"Please," you whimpered, feeling yourself throb with wetness. Your innocent sounds made him lose his self control and his cock twitched under the close contact of your hand. He'd been waiting for a moment like this for a long time, fantasising every time he came home, while you laid sleepily in his bed and having to control himself when he saw you wearing those tiny shorts. He cupped your thighs and lifted you off the counter to stand in front of him, starting to suck your neck with passion, you took it as a signal to continue unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. You watched his bulge intently, while he unbuckles his belt. You looked into his eyes and saw him watching you. His worries had faded a little as he turns you and pushes your back to bend you over the counter, "be patient," he spoke forcefully. Feeling disappointed at the loss of contact, you arch your ass back to reach him, and he grabs your hips roughly in place, before dragging his hands down to the top of your thighs, and gradually under your dress. With his index finger he strokes your wetness, making you gasp his name at the sudden touch. He lifts your dress over your ass, admiring how you look for him, bent over the counter, making sweet noises. He takes a step back to watch you as you whine, "so needy, hmm?" You're desperate for his touch, missing how his large hands feel against your skin, "I need you," you cry, shocked at your loss of control. He steps back towards you, and moves your underwear to the side, revealing your bare pussy, and he presses his index finger to your entrance, sliding it up to your clit. "You're beautiful," he groans, as your knees grow weak under him.

He leans over you, pressing his bulge to your entrance, reaching to kiss your neck, as his middle finger finally enters you slowly, collecting your wetness and sliding in and out, you whimper his name again and arch into him, making him put his second finger into you, stretching you with it.

"Fuck," he groans, starting to rub your clit, "this is what happens when you wear these tight little dresses, practically begging me to bend you over." His words make you ache inside, getting wetter. With one motion he takes his fingers out of you, and looks down at his erection, almost bursting out of his boxers, feeling his pre-cum already leaking out of his cock at the sight of you. He pulled it out of his boxers, and with the same fingers that he took out of you, he stroked his tip, gathering his cum. Turning you over, he presses the fingers to your lips, "open," he demanded, and obediently you sucked on them, as he gradually moved them further down your throat. You look down, stunned at his size,

"Rick- please." He ignores you and lifts your dress over your shoulders, reaches his hands around you to take off your bra, revealing your naked breasts, making you blush again, feeling vulnerable.

Suddenly, you hear the front door open, Carl must be home. You look at Rick in shock at the situation, and he presses his hand hard against your mouth. You are relieved to hear footsteps go further away and up the stairs, he must be tired from the party, it must be late now. Rick turns to you, looking determined, as he hooks your underwear and moves it to the side of your pussy with his finger. She presses his bare erection to your entrance while admiring your breasts "keep quiet, okay?" you nod, gasping into his hand. "good girl," he smirked at me, as he presses an inch into me, moving it up and down against my clit with his free hand. He leaned in, and moved his lips against yours deeply. You start rocking your hips, losing control at the feeling. You buck your hips swiftly towards him, forcing him to enter you more, surprising him. He grabs the side of your hips hard, digging his fingers into your soft skin, as he pulls out and roughly pushes back in. Your tightness caves around him, clenching with sudden pain, and you feel his dick twitch inside you. "it's okay," he reassures, as he pushes in more, pain and pleasure making you ache. You whimper loudly into his hand at every push he makes, tears forming in your eyes. He shushes you, but as he sees the tears going down your face he removes his hand warily. He pushes into you harder, stretching you as you move closer against him, this time pressing your bare breasts against his chest as he sucked on your neck. He could feel his cock leak at the feeling of your small body against his, but he gathers himself, not letting himself cum yet.

"Is this okay?" he asks worriedly, while gradually getting rougher, pounding all of him into you at once He enjoyed how messy you looked, crying like a baby, but he was concerned at how loud you were being, "you need to stay quiet," he said slowing his thrusts.

"Don't stop, I need to..." you whined into him. "I'm gonna cum" feeling the knot inside you give way slightly and tension build up inside you, making you clench around his cock. His erection twitches at the sensation, making his cock almost burst with his seed. You feel yourself come undone as you gasp into him reaching up and grabbing his hair with your fist, making yourself slide forward and back to ride out your high. Feeling you so tightly around him, his cum leaks out, shooting deep inside you. He groans and looks down worriedly, thinking about the risks of you possibly having a baby inside you at your age. "Fuck," he groans, angry at himself as he pulls his dick out most of the way, still nudging your entrance. His cum spills out, dripping down your thighs, and his worries are erased as he gathers the leaking cum with his finger and pushes it back inside you, loving how you looked.

You wince at how sore you are, "too much," as he apologetically kisses the side of your cheek leading to your jaw. He folds his hands under your weak legs, wrapping them around his waist, as he helps you off the counter, carrying you upstairs.

You felt tired, but utterly content as you finally had him to yourself, his body warm and comforting. He turned on the shower, and lead you in with him, holding your hand. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, taking in what happened.

"You okay?" he asked gently, eyeing your neck and hips where marks were developing. You nodded lightly and smiled, as he came closer and cupped your face with his hands, moving his lips against yours gently. He felt relieved of his worries, knowing he could take care of you now without feeling guilty. You took turns washing eachother, and eventually both retreated to his bed. As you laid looking into his sleepy eyes, you couldn't feel more content and safe. His hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and holding you to his chest as you both drifted to sleep.

[dailyadventureprompts]

We've known for a long while that people find different things about d&d to be fun and what archetypes they fall into, but I'd posit that within the framework of everything that is "Dungeons and Dragons" there exists several wildly different games/forms of fun that all from a part of the d&d ecosystem.

This was brought up during a discussion with my partner when we were talking about the build for her bard. She LOVES playing d&d, it's one of the highlights of her week, but her brain just doesn't give her the happy chemicals when it comes time to do anything related to character building: levelling up, managing her inventory and spell list, charting out what her abilities do, all these things are a chore she puts up with so she can play at the table with our friends. Compare that to me, who loves building characters so much that I have an ever growing stable of concepts I'm never going to get to play, some of which are so developed I not only have them planned out from low to high level but have gone so far as to make playlists about them.

My brain clearly does give me the happy chemicals when dealing with character stuff, to the point where one of my favourite things as a Dm is trawling through my vast archive of 3rd party content to help a player realize a mechanical/flavor concept that might otherwise be hard to nail. Further contrast that with the older generation of tabletop characters who invest almost nothing into characters and throw that into meat-grinder dungeons, or the folks who spend years debating build optimization on forums but seldom ever rolling dice at the table. We're all playing very different FORMS of d&d.

This variance applies to nearly every aspect of the game: dungeons, combat, roleplay, story, but because we don't have strong terms for as many of these variables as we should we end up with mismatches, especially when narrowmidned folks start talking about how the way they play d&d is the RIGHT or ONLY way to play it.

There's a lot of communities that are guilty of this ( anyone who's ever complained about the Critical role effect for instance) but strangely enough one of the biggest ones is WotC, who's trying to make OneDnD for a VERY specific group of people

They play online

They play official modules almost exclusively

They don't use much 3rd party material, if any

They are willing to accept limited character customization for sake of ease.

Not only does no one I play with fit inside that group of people, it's a profile that more accurately fits MMO players, a group of people that broke off from d&d's target audience somewhere around the 90s. You have to wonder how much of the shitshow OD&D has amounted to is all just a reaction to world of warcraft biting into Wotc's bottomline

[theposhperyton]

if you have the time could you tell me literally everything you know about isfd?

I found your blog through the one piece posts and now need to learn anything I can about this obscure fandom

An ISFD ask from someone who isn't already lost in the sauce? (<-Self call-out) O glorious day!

Gosh, there's so much, I don't really know where to start. I've been following this micro-fandom for YEARS now, and it's one of those things that just keeps on giving. The amount of lost/missing content and the frickin nuked forum (I'm a survivor, baebee!!) really does sometimes make it feel like the universe is trying to wipe us out, but hey. ISFD fans are basically cockroaches. Killable in theory, but surprisingly hearty in an actual life or death of a fandom scenario.

As for the actual content of ISFD that I engage in, I'm a rare(?) case where I kinda dabble in everything. I can confidently say I'm a member of the ** original ** gen of fans, so I've been around for the noteable eras, and have obsessed over every major character group at one time or another, as well as some niche characters (Cyan and his 2 other fans, rise up 🔥🔥)

I gotta say though, I am currently obsessed with the mafia portion of the universe (and, tbh, by extension, the Marama family. They are to me what the Kardashians are to some)

In particular, Phillip Varic has been my consistent blorbo since last September. It is not an exaggeration to say I've averaged about 40 drawings of him a month since then (my friends and I have counted. I should be on my strange addiction at this point, tbh. Or seeking other professional insight)

Here's some of the doodles in question! I am not terribly good at finishing art of him, I just sketch him loosely and rotate him rapidly in my head

I just think he's so neat. And I think his stupid, codependant, and mildly dysfunctional mafia found-family are so neat. And I think his husband (seraphine) and wife (abram) are so neat. And all his kids, both the legal kids and the ones whom he mostly just pays college tuition for, they're neat to. And the echos of Magnolia throughout his life and the larger narrative, even decades later. That's also very neat (my heart doesn't hurt at all!)

I realize I kinda derailed from answering your original ask because the mafia brainrot is debilitating and chronic, but I'm not entirely sure how I'd go about answering it anyway because there is just. So, so much world and lore to glean from ISFD, and none of it in any easy or direct way. Honestly though? The mafia might not be a bad place to start? If you want, I can tell you as much as I know about the cast and dynamics of the mafia, because I feel like a lot of the mafia character's lore and backgrounds act as a good segway to other noteable aspects of the larger ISFD narratives and the in-world political climate as a whole (Especially Mask and Howard. Not to single those poor souls out, but genuinely. How are they both gonna be so afflicted by the narrative like that)

If you're still interested after I practically talked your ear off, I could totally make a larger post about the whole mafia :3 They're my special blorbos ❤️ I would not feel safe around them IRL, but trapped within the confines of fiction, they're all free for me to babygirlify with almost no consequences

[bittrlys]

We were so robbed of Callum and viren interacting or Callum and aaravos interacting. Like what do you mean the last time Callum and viren properly talked to eachother was season 1 how is it that these two foils never meet and actually realise how similar they are?!?!

Also I absolutely dig Callum and aaravos mentor fics they're so well written and some of them make me wish the show made them interact more. What if Callum did learn more than just one truth? What if he actually started to question why the books would hide aaravos's name and try to burry him within history just for him to always haunt the narrative? Did the dragons do this and if they did then why?

Also Iam not sure if Iam correct (so correct me if Iam wrong) but Callum x Claudia was the initial ship and I dig couples who have parallels with one another. That aside this makes me question if the reason why Terry was even introduced in the first place was because the writers needed a second Callum and that's it. It's a shame they never bothered to develop Terry properly because he has potential.

Yeah this was all over the place apologies!

Yes, there's nothing better than character foils and though it's not required they interact, there's so much rich and interesting content you can derive from said interactions. The Callum-Viren-Claudia trinity is so good and it's a shame that Soren is a mutual point of contact they all have and he barely got any time with Callum one-on-one. He did warn him against becoming Virenesque, but that's about it. I think the problem is that even when they're paralleled, Callum very rarely acknowledges the Viren of it all, and Viren has no idea what's going on with Callum. I guess they're both very self-focused characters but maybe some awareness would help to deepen these parallels, even if plot-wise they don't have many opportunities to meet.

Callum and Claudia at least got to run into each other more often. I think that's nice. Ending on the parallel of them casting the same spell was a great touch, even if it had the cowardice of "this spell isn't dark magic uwu don't worry." Still, I could use more. They have the potential to be a fantastic "two friends who tread down two different paths" type relationship and unfortunately, it's not quite there. Maybe we're due for some more flashbacks about their childhoods together ... or again, have some more awareness of each other while apart, and their opposing goals. Make them great rivals, is what I'm saying.

If Callum had more interaction with Aaravos, and ultimately rejected him, instead of just rejecting him from the jump, it would make these Callum and Claudia parallels even better. I can see Callum going "My people have been mistreated, and that we've been actively denied magic is terrible, but they haven't been able to stop me and I'm going to prove how good humanity can be." It would have just a hint of spite to help counter the implications of "I'm one of the Good Ones." He might still learn this! I'd like to see him confront the Startouch elves.

I think the dragons, however, are a lost cause. Although it's clear to you and me they've both benefited from and helped violently enforce this marginalization of humans, it feels like the Great Ones are going to take the lion's share of responsibility. I'm not who is responsible for the erasing of Aaravos's name, but I assume it was the collective who put in the group effort to help imprison him. The Startouch elves seem a little uninvolved at this point in time.

To bring it back to Callum and Claudia ... I can't find a quote from the writers saying explicitly that their ship was intended, but I would believe it was something they were considering -- they were having the voice actors do very ship-focused interviews around s2, before they decided to go in on C/R in s3. Indeed, I would say the ship did "happen" in the sense that they both had feelings for each other and even went on a lil date type thing once. I think, even if it doesn't work out, a canonical acknowledgement of mutual feelings is "canon ship" material. It's normal, too, to crush on someone and not have it work out because you find people who align more with your interests ... and in this vein the Callum/Rayla & Claudia/Terry evolution makes sense. Like Claudia, Rayla is a cool older girl, and like Callum, Terry is sweet and dorky. There's a cohesion to their 'types.'

So I wouldn't say Terry is replacing Callum because they would ever take the show's de facto protagonist and have him run around with Claudia helping her schemes -- Terry fulfilled a specific role in the plot, that is, giving Claudia someone to bounce off of while Viren and Soren were unavailable. I do agree Terry hasn't been quite fleshed out enough -- that he's just, like, having the world's craziest rumspringa doesn't seem to faze him much. And I get it! Backpacking summers across Europe can change you! However, I speculate that next season he's going to be challenged because there's no way Aaravos isn't going to drive a wedge between him and Claudia. I can even see his loyalties as an elf finally coming up (I think these existing is the only explanation for why he was so weirdly mad about Claudia threatening the coins) and he's going to be asking for mercy from Claudia for Xadia that she may not want to give. After all, so far, though he's been very down to clown, Claudia's journey has been extremely hyperfocused on her father, and I don't think Terry really, fully understood the threat that Aaravos posed.

Like you, I was always intrigued by the idea of Callum and Claudia because romantic narrative foils are very crunchy (good) but I do like Terry. I think he has a role to play and I find his optimistic and gentle outlook works well with Claudia. However, I agree that giving him some more to do than being Claudia's partner/lackey would be nice to see.

Thank you for the ask! ♥ No need to apologise, I enjoyed reading it!

[the-badger-mole]

So, a few days ago, I was sent an ask about if Katara and Zuko would fight, and if so about what (or something along those lines). My answer was that they would fight, but probably not that often. I stand by that. I truly don't think they would have many fights during their relationship, but I was thinking about big fights about big feelings. Now that I think about it, they would probably bicker about petty stuff pretty often and then make up within a few days. So, here is a short, non-exhaustive list of what I think are

Things Katara and Zuko Would Bicker About

1. Food sharing: Katara is a plate thief. If Zuko had something on his plate that she wanted to try, she would reach over and just take a bit. Her culture is a family table culture, meaning everyone shares. She doesn't even think to ask. Zuko finds this incredibly irritating because in his culture taking food from someone else's plate is extremely rude. Eventually, Zuko lets it go, a just starts putting extra food on his plate, and Katara learns to ask first. Most of the time, anyway.

2. Bed Time: Katara is a night owl, and Zuko is an early riser. At first, they try to go to bed at roughly the same time, but it's a lost cause. Katara has a hard time falling asleep, and ends up getting out of bed after an hour or so. Fine. They accept this difference. But Katara isn't as soft on her feet as Zuko, and Zuko is an insanely light sleeper. At least twice a week, Zuko is woken by Katara jumping into bed at some unholy hour. He wakes up very early, and doesn't like his sleep disturbed. Katara really does try her best to be quiet, and very often succeeds, but occasionally, she steps on a shoe or trips over a chair, and wakes Zuko. This boils over into a fight every few months or so, depending on what big event Zuko has upcoming.

3. Departure Times: This is kind of a spillover from the bed time argument. Katara has a hard time sticking to a schedule, and Zuko is military trained on keeping time. Zuko insists on being out of the door at a precise time that he calculated specifically in order to arrive at the exact time of any given event. Katara will start getting ready to leave about an hour before they are supposed to leave, and inevitably make them late by anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. It drives Zuko insane.

4. Date Night: This one is kind of cute from the outside, but it is a genuine point of contention between them who gets to plan and pay for their evenings out. Zuko thinks it's a ridiculous argument. They're married and share finances anyway. Katara thinks the principle is at stake and if she wants to use her own money to treat Zuko, she should be allowed without argument. Eventually, Zuko concedes on this, too, but it pushes him to plan most of their dates because he really does like spoiling Katara. Meanwhile, Katara has taken it upon herself to give Zuko the experience of being considered and cared for that he didn't get in his childhood.

5. Showers: Showers are one of Zuko's few indulgences. He likes to stay in the shower for a ridiculously long time, and on enough occasions to make it an issue, he has left Katara no hot water for her shower. Zuko points out that as a firebender, he could always heat more water, but Katara argues that it would take longer for him to heat the water than she intended to spend in the shower, and would it kill him to leave her ten minutes worth of hot water. Zuko genuinely does try, but he gets lost in thought sometimes and he forgets to keep track of how long he's been in there.

6. Hoarding: Katara has a tendency to hoard things she thinks will be useful- empty jars; loose buttons; mismatched china; scraps of fabric; dull scissors. It's a trauma response to the scarcity of her youth in the SWT and later to keeping her group of friends alive as they traveled. Zuko understands it, but Katara fills their living space with stuff she is never going to get around to using, and sometimes Zuko gets overwhelmed by the clutter. They compromise by assigning a specific cupboard for Katara's collection of odds and ends. When it gets too full, Zuko helps Katara go through all the things she's collected and they get rid of all but the things she swears she's going to find a use for. She doesn't, but neither of them mention that during their semi-annual culling of Katara's Junk Closet.

7. Zuko's Inflexibility: Zuko isn't good with deviating from the plan. Beyond his need to be to his destination exactly on time, he likes to plan out everything he's doing in a day. Obviously this affects Katara, and when something happens that forces Zuko to change his plan, even a little bit, he gets agitated. He doesn't blow up too often anymore, like he did as a kid, but he does have a tendency to be snippy and snarky. On a few occasions, Katara has had to call him out for being condescending. As the years go on, Zuko learns to go with the flow more, especially in his retirement years, but this remains a sore point for the duration of their relationship.