#its straight up stated that it was basically out of habit

[waluigisgaybf]

Once you learn more about Astarion his sex scene at the beginning just becomes so sad cause that line where you can be like “you okay? you didnt feel like you were all there?” is def implying the poor fucking guy was disassociating through most of it :(

[itadore-you]

show, don't tell

pairing: itadori yuuji x fem!reader (side note i wrote this with her wearing a skirt in mind btw) content: smut (basically netflix & chill)!! & mdni plsss w/c: 1.8k a/n: trying to get back into writing. thoughts of yuuji have ravaged my mind for the past 2 months straight

♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡♥︎ᥫ᭡

Thinking about your casual nights with Yuuji, the ones where the rest of your friends are off doing something else, leaving the two of you alone at last.

This seems to happen a lot more recently, and you just can't put your finger on why. His place is just so comforting, despite how small it is, and its clutter. You know he's been saving up recently to afford a better place. Those extra hours he's been putting in as a part-timer are starting to show their effects. It started off with him missing the group's Thursday nights out, when he opted to stay in and rest instead. You asked him if it was okay for you to come over and check on him since you hadn't seen him in a while, and soon it became a habit to stay in with Yuuji. Sometimes you'd even share a home-cooked meal because he didn't have enough time to cook dinner. One thing was for sure though, you would always stay for hours longer than expected, both of you reluctant to say goodbye.

It's late, so he doesn't want you walking home by yourself at this time. He would walk you home anyway, but isn't it so much easier to stay over at his instead? He had just finished cooking a late-night comfort meal before you came over, and there's enough for the two of you - such a coincidence, isn't it?

And the winter makes it so, so cold. You can't help leaning into his arms after settling down to watch a movie on his laptop. Pirating wasn't a good idea - you've offered your Netflix subscription to Yuuji a couple of times, but he still refuses to take you up on it, because that's the thing about Yuuji; he always, always is willing to give, but never take. The way that you're lying down on him right now - back pressed against his firm chest while his arms wrap around your centre - makes it hard for you to turn from the screen and look at him. You want to start something. You want to take this somewhere. But you don't know if he does. It's been a couple of months, being in this weird limbo with Yuuji. It started off with you just wanting to be around him more. Wanting to talk to him more. Not just more, but every day. Wanting to touch him, feel him, taste him.

But that's the thing about starting off as friends. If he didn't feel the same way, then that would end everything. And Yuuji was a great friend. Always there for you, kind to others but still always somehow makes you feel special, could make you laugh but would never make you cry. You can't let him go! You don't want to mess this up. Meeting him is one of the best things that ever happened to you.

Your heart can't help but beat a little bit faster when you hear Yuuji's light laugh - it's at some witty one-liner from the sidekick character. You didn't even hear the joke, but you're smiling a little too much as you can feel the heave of Yuuji's chest from behind you. Eventually, you break into laughter too, both of you are laughing so hard together that your sides hurt. This is when you choose to sneak a glance at Yuuji, when he's in such a state of pure joy, that tears collect in the corners of his eyes and almost trickle down his cheek.

He's so adorable.

You reach over to wipe them off for him, and his laughter dwindles, trying to keep steady for you. But there goes that handsome smile again, as he locks eyes with you, making your hand a little more unsteady.

"Sorry," he murmurs, still chuckling a little as he averts his eyes. 'Nervous laughing', as he calls it, is a typical response for Yuuji. It's when he laughs hard, unapologetically, and without restraint. It makes you wonder if he'd love you like that, too.

"The joke wasn't even that funny! I just..." His sentence trails off and he looks away, again. At this point, you have completely no idea what's going on in the movie's plot. No way you're letting him get away without finishing that sentence.

"Yuu? What were you going to-"

He chuckles nervously again, shaking his head. "Nothing, nothing. Just sit back and enjoy the film. I like holding you like this."

"Yuuji." You tilt yourself so you can take hold of his face, almost as if you're forcing him to choke out his words. "You can tell me anything. Literally. Anything."

You can practically see the cogs turning in Yuuji's brain as he thinks through his response. Yuuji runs a hand quickly through his unruly pink hair before he speaks again.

"I - No, I mean, it's just that I like spending time with you. A lot. I just-" Yuuji sighs, then continues, "I want to show you what I mean. I don't think I can really say it how I want to."

"Go on."

"But you don't know what I mean...?"

"Well there's one way I can find out," you tease him. You're really, really hoping that he's implying what you think he is.

"Okay."

"Okay?

"Yeah. Okay then."

He takes another deep breath in as you lean against his chest, and the arms wrapped around you now wander, until his hands interlace with yours. Yuuji's voice is a tone quieter as he asks 'Is this okay?' and you answer with a quick squeeze of his hand and a nod. Everyone knows that Yuuji is that one touchy-feely friend, always offering hugs and slinging an arm over your shoulder, but the way he touches you now feels different. The atmosphere has changed. Your heart is beating so fast now, you can't pull your eyes away from the screen to look at him. Even though you want him to keep going, you want to show that you want him just as badly. So instead you move his hand to rest on your thigh, firmly placing yours on top. You can tell that Yuuji is holding his breath at this point, taken by surprise at how forward you are. Maybe you should give him some time before you do anything else.

But only a couple of minutes pass by before Yuuji makes his next move. His fingers curl tighter around your thigh as he kisses your neck. It's a light peck, to test the waters, before he kisses you once more, moving along your neck. On your jawline. Languidly moving up to your cheek, his lips are soft but a little chapped as they taste your skin.

So you lean your head towards his, capturing his lips in a short-lived kiss. Both of you are hesitating because once you go this far, you can't come back. But it's so clear that you now both want each other. The realisation makes you start to bite the inside of your cheek as you turn around quickly to keep watching the movie - Yuuji wants you back. Just as much as you want him. Even though you know this, it still doesn't feel real.

Have you made things awkward? You didn't mean to. It all just happened so quickly, the blur of a kiss and a glimpse of his soft brown eyes. You didn't mean to turn away, you want to continue. His hands clasp yours worriedly.

"Y/n? Are you sure this is okay?" His voice wavers as he fiddles with the rings on your fingers. If you want to go further with Yuuji, then you're going to have to show him.

"Yes, Yuuji. I want you to."

With that, you place his hands on the inside of your thighs. "Please."

He nods from behind you, going slightly rigid for a moment at how breathy you sound asking for him. "Okay."

Then he starts to really touch you. Massaging the inside of your thighs as he murmurs that you should 'keep watching the film'. You're holding your breath every time he drifts further and further up, and you're struggling to focus on the screen; opting to fix your eyes on the subtitles instead. He stops from time to time, only to restart lightly brushing his fingers over the tops of your thighs, and eventually, his fingers disappear underneath the hem of your skirt, still going higher. You can't help trying to look at Yuuji from the corner of your eye - is there a light blush on his cheeks?

"Pay attention, this is the good part," he whispers to you, gently taking hold of your face to keep your eyes trained on the screen.

You start to relax in Yuuji's arms until, just for a moment, he grazes over your underwear, right against your clit. The brief contact with such a sensitive part of you makes you jump a little, as if every nerve on your body lit on fire at the same time. You want more, and this slow tension has been killing you inside. And Yuuji knows it.

"Just relax into me. I'm going to make you feel good," he whispers, as he rests his fingers on your clit again, beginning to trace small circles onto it. With each and every movement, Yuuji is precise, and he can feel your wetness through the fabric. He presses a couple more kisses onto the side of your neck every time he stops touching you, teasing you over and over to delay your orgasm. He can tell that you're feeling especially close when you try to cross your legs, forcing his hand even closer to you, but his steady hands stop you every time. You're positive that your panties are completely soaked through at this point, but it gets even better. Yuuji's deft fingers then pull your panties aside, and they delve into you.

A thumb is kept steady on your clit, whilst he pumps his fingers into you. Yuuji never goes beyond a certain speed, making sure that you feel each and every stroke of his fingers against your walls. Your soft gasps of his name spur him on as he starts to suck on the side of your neck, thrusting deeper with his fingers until he finds your sweet spot - the part of you that is most sensitive. You cry out when he curls his fingers directly up into your g-spot again; It's impossible to hold back anymore.

When you cum, your body almost goes limp - Yuuji groans lowly in response, feeling the way how your hole contracts around his fingers. He can only imagine how that tightness would feel around his dick. He is slow to pull his fingers away from you, still slowly pumping them in and out after your orgasm.

"Fuck... Yuuji....."

His heart tightens in his chest at how breathless you are, how weak you are for him.

"Do you get what I was trying to say before ...?"

"Yes, Yuuji. Yes."

That's all he needs to hear for now. The end credits of the movie will roll soon; whatever has begun between the two of you, is to be continued.

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | iii (pt. 1)

too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

masterlist | taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, mentions of homelessness, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, heavy descriptions of addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, mentions of OD, mentions of drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

here’s part one of two! lots of heavy stuff in this part and some more character background, but we do get to see some romance begin to blossom. im excited to share, but even more excited for you guys to read the next part. thanks for being amazing, i love you guys 🤍

April 22, 2022

The morning was violent, so much so that it managed to pull you from a slumber fit for the dead. As you rolled over on your couch, your journal tumbled from your stomach and landed on the floor with a thump that echoed through the entire room. The large panel windows with rotted sills glistened under the blazing sunlight, too bright and warm for you to withstand. You squeezed your eyes shut again to block out the rays, but instead of blackness, the usual void seemed red with the light beaming directly on your face. You withdrew a long breath, rubbing your face in your hands to pull yourself out of the claws of exhaustion. After a moment, you managed to invigorate yourself enough to sit up straight, but it came with ample consequences.

Your body ached so desperately that it felt like your bones had twisted and morphed into something new, and your throat scratched with dryness every time you tried to swallow. Your head pounded with every breath and only ever worsened as you moved. There was a kink in your neck that you could not massage out if you tried, and your stomach was twisted with upset. You woke up the same every morning, like you were still in active addiction and your body was craving the substance with a fervor. It was a phantom pain that passed not long after you started your day, but while it existed, it was incredibly difficult to get through. No matter how long you had been sober for, you awoke every morning with the incessant urge to fall back into old habits.

That specific morning it seemed so much worse than others, and you feared that if you had even the slightest lapse in willpower, you would end up on the bathroom floor submitting to an entity so sinister that it would ruin your life all over again.

So, instead of taking the risk, you checked your phone to see what time it was. When the white letters splayed ten o’clock, you knew you could rush to the old AA hall they had donated to the druggies when the state funded a new building and catch the morning meeting. If you were lucky enough, you could make it in time to grab one or two of the stale muffins from the day prior and save some money on groceries. You noticed the pen that had once sat atop the journal (that had once sat atop you) had fallen onto the torn cushions of the couch and was now stabbing into your side. With a huff of frustration, you tossed it to the floor, where it struck the old vinyl tile and rocketed under one of the other pieces of furniture.

You stood, feeling woozy from the illness plaguing you and seemingly eating away at your insides. With a vow to ignore it, you trudged to the bathroom to comb your hair and brush your teeth. The intense mint from the toothpaste was aggravating your already sick stomach, and you fought back a gag as you struggled through the basic task. You washed your face, hoping the cold water would distract you, but the sting of the frigid liquid on your tired skin only annoyed you further. In a poor mood, you forced yourself through the rest of your routine and ran to your bedroom. You changed into a pair of jeans that once belonged to your oldest brother, and a sweater that belonged to your youngest brother. To top it off, you threw on a fleece lined plaid jacket to keep out the harsh wind, noticing yet another rip in the already worn out fabric.

You grabbed your pack of cigarettes from the counter on the way out the door, tying your boots in the hallway after deciding that tripping over laces would be the (theoretical) straw that broke the camel's back. You broke out into the bitter air, the smell of city smog filling your lungs and the nip of morning frost biting at your cheeks. You shoved your headphones into your ear, pressing play on a playlist that had been ringing through your living room all night long. With a brief check over your shoulder, you hopped to the other side of the street and began walking down the winding side road in hopes of finding a Hail Mary.

After a seemingly treacherous journey, you trudged up the wooden steps that were nearly rotten all the way through. You clasped your fingers around the large metal handle and pulled the oak door open, the creaks echoing through the barren entryway. You stepped inside, your mind still swimming with relentless thoughts and your cheeks blushed with chill. You slipped your headphones into the pocket of your hoodie and moved further inside, surveying the room before going any further. The old building was once a church, and when it was abandoned, the state took it over and rebranded it for Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Back then, it went hand in hand with the motto, as most that turned vile due to their addictions believed themselves to be devout Christian’s. Some believed it was blasphemous to use such a building for people who had disgraced the name of god, and others thought it to be perfectly fitting. Either way, God did not have a hand in what happened in the building, nor was he worthy of credit for the recovery of the people.

When the government decided AA was worthy of a better building, they still failed to recognize addicts as people deserving of recovery (or help, even), and left the old building for anyone to do as they pleased with. For a little while, it was home to a small family of homeless people, and only once the city grew sick of them did they decide an NA program was worthwhile. State ‘funded’ and utterly disappointing, they held meetings twice a day that were led by a single member of the mental health board (and not even an addictions expert, at that) and were mostly self-guided. As much as the program lacked, you still found it comforting to sort through your issues with fellow addicts who also fucked up their lives beyond repair. That, and it was the only intervention that was consistently accessible, and free.

You hated knowing that your recovery was based off a paycheck, and that bettering yourself as a person was dependent upon affordability, yet you knew this to be reality. Treatment programs were expensive, and the only one you had ever been to had left you with a debt you would never shake off your shoulders. From then, you knew you had to be in charge of your recovery, and that started with improving your willpower to stay sober. You could not afford anything more than self-help journals, and with every backslide, you understood that medical bills were piling higher and higher. Sobriety was the only option, because if not, poverty was the punishment. Unfortunately, poverty was a breeding ground for mental illness (which you already suffered enough of), and mental illness was a slippery slope that lead you straight back to square one.

Complaining about NA would not get you any further ahead, so you often had to swallow your distaste and appreciate it for what it was. At least there was some type of intervention, even if it was lousy. Without it, you would have nothing but yourself, and you had come to realize that was one thing you could not solely rely on, as you were a nothing shy of a trained professional in bad decisions and fucking up.

You noticed the circle of fold out chairs, half filled with zombie-like shapes that only passed as people on a good day. Today, as it seemed, was not a good day. Most of the attendees were forced to be there by parole regulations, and others only came for a warm place to sit for an hour. Some, like yourself, wanted help, but most cared about the free food more. As you approached the group, you made a stop at the table with the coffee canister and expired creamer, pouring yourself two cups to sip away at while you spilled your guts. Thankfully, there were plenty of muffins left, and when nobody was looking, you managed to slip a few in your large pockets (which was the exact reason you wore that specific jacket).

As you took a seat, you surveyed for any familiar faces. There was an older women, frail looking with mousy blonde hair and sad eyes. Her name was Carol, and she was the most frequent attendee of all of the meetings. Even so, you knew her to be a woman who was sober, but nowhere near recovered. She’d been through the twelve step program a hundred times, yet never seemed to harness all that she’d learned. She was tired, sorrowful and a little timid, yet had a fiery side that matched the devil. She often talked about her mistakes like they were small blips, yet did not seem to comprehend that even if they were unavoidable, they had consequences that were detrimental to her and her family. More specifically, it affected her children, in which she mentioned their no-contact order at least once a meeting.

You felt bad for her, but not enough to extend a helping hand. She was a great example of ‘reap what you sow’ and she reminded you too much of your own mother to ignore it. Every time you began to feel some shred of sympathy, you would think of her four kids who suffered at the hands of her own lack of self control. She knew nothing about accountability, and was in so much denial that she was blaming the no contact order on the children who filed it, rather than the woman who caused it. She would never recover unless she understood the implications of her actions, and that she caused all that happened, even if she felt powerless at the time. She could abstain from using drugs until her last breath, yet she would never escape the addict mentality.

The coordinator, Liam, was by the windows organizing his meeting checklist. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you were certain that when he did, a smart comment would be casted in your direction. He was in his mid-thirties, and he wasn’t the worst person in the world to share a piece of your soul with. If anything, over the months of going to meetings, you had actually grown quite fond of him. He was a trained mental health professional, and even if his specialty was not addiction, he still cared enough to dedicate his time to helping others. You were certain that he was not paid well for his two hours a day, and he was working it atop his other job. There was a part of him that loved the charity, and as a true councillor should, cared about helping people more than anything else.

As you sipped at your coffee, Liam approached the group with his head still nestled in his clipboard. As more people trudged in, he looked up to smile as they situated themselves, and that’s when his eyes landed on you. There was a sparkle of something you could not place your finger on, and it made you bite back a laugh. He stepped in your direction, tapping his pen against the cork material of the board as he thought of a snarky remark. “You lose your calendar?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not Wednesday.”

“No, it’s not. Astute observation, smartass.” You replied, smirking at him. The one good thing about NA was him, and the fact that you felt like you could be yourself around him. He was not a bible thumper, nor was he a hardass; he was a person who knew struggle, taking time to help other people with their struggle. He understood that you were a barely-adult who dealt with your pain with humour, especially after watching you interact with Dylan and Vincent, and he used it to his advantage. Every now and again, he had to crack the whip to ensure you weren’t using humour to deflect, but most of the time, he agreed that it was a good coping mechanism.

“You just missed me so much, huh?” He sighed, tapping the end of his pen against the board, now. It send a dull yet steady sound through the immediate air, and it was the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for your already migraine-ridden brain.

“Hardly,” you muttered, taking another long gulp of coffee while hoping it would ease the pain in your skull. “Figured if I had to choose between you and the detox box, I’d pick you.”

“Smart choice.” He complimented. “Where’s your company?”

“You really think they’d come to a non-mandated meeting? Are you insane?”

“Some would say so.” He shrugged. “Proud of you for choosing sobriety, y/n.”

“Oh, fuck off with your sentimental bullshit.” You grumbled, but couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings. If there was one thing you loved, it was being told that someone was proud of you. Of course, you were never willing to show your appreciation for the fact, but you definitely held the words close. “You better get started before Carol starts crying or Joey falls asleep.” You said, nodding your head in the direction of the two sitting side by side. Joey seemed as if he was nodding off, and Carol was already weepy-eyed.

“Right, it’s about that time.” He sighed, nodding curtly. “Alright, everyone! Come grab a seat so we can get started!” His voice echoed through the mostly empty room, bouncing off the walls peeling of their paint. The large windows sent flutters of golden light through the room, illuminating the specs of dust in the air. When you looked above the pointed window tops, you could see the shadow of a cross that remained stained to the wallpaper even long after it was removed. The grime of the building ensured that the memory would remain indefinitely. As Liam walked towards his chair at the head of the circle, the small heels of his dress shoes clacked against the rickety floorboards. When he sat, the legs of the plastic foldout chair scraped against the already scuffed panels. It was underwhelming in its entirety, yet you found it oddly comforting.

As the bodies pooled into the chairs, leaving ample spaces between themselves as they sat down, you crossed your legs and pulled the frumpy jacket closer to your body. The building was drafty, shifting and groaning under every strong gust of wind and threatening to give out under the pressure. You picked at the threads of loose skin around your fingernails, awaiting Liam’s routine meeting opener.

“Good morning, everyone.” He spoke, his voice echoing throughout the whole room. He was cheerful, but not overly, and he was excited to get his part over with so he could sit back and observe. “As some of you know, Friday’s are completely open discussion days, just the same as Monday. If this isn’t your cup of tea and you’d like to check out the speaker meetings where I guide you through the steps of recovery, you can stop by from Tuesday to Thursday. I’m here at the same time every day, 11am and 2pm, so if you require another session outside of your normal attendance schedule, you know where to find me.” There were a few mutters of agreement from the crowd, but most of them had their eyes on the clock, waiting for the hour to finish despite it only just getting started.

“Are there any newcomers in the crowd today?” The question was mandated, even if he already knew the answer. He recognized you all from the minute you stepped in; the whole crowd was familiar with each other now. “Right, okay.” He nodded, jotting something down on his clipboard. “As always, remember that if you run into any issues outside of the normal meeting times, we always implore you to give a call to the friends you’ve made here. There’s a list of numbers available by the door for anyone who has volunteered to be a sponsor. Remember—“

“Dial it, don’t file it.” The whole group chanted back to him before he could speak. The mantra was drilled so deeply into your brain that you were sure you muttered it in your sleep. He gave a tight lipped smile, understanding the redundancy of his words.

Open speaker meetings were your favorite. You did not find much solace in Liam droning on for a half an hour, as his personal experience with addiction was nonexistent. It was a comfort to tell your story and have it touch others, and it was nice when you could hear the struggles of other people. It made you feel less alone, and it felt less clinical. When Liam took up an hour of your time, yapping away about resilience and self awareness, it was difficult not to fall asleep in your chair. You chose Wednesday’s as your regular days when you learned it was Vincent and Dylan’s scheduled day, but not for many other reasons. Sometimes, it was nice to hear advice and encouragement, but in the long run, it did not hold much value to you. You opted to go to plenty of meetings outside of your normal time, just so you could get all of the benefits of it.

“Remember to stick around after the meeting so we can hand out chips or tags, whichever you prefer. If you brought your white chip with you today, we can upgrade you to silver.” He gave a smile, as if handing in a surrender token was a victory and a 24-hour token was a milestone. You were certain that everyone around you had a million silver and white tokens littered across their homes, yet it never seemed to stick. You knew that for you, at least, a silver token was a punch in the gut rather than a pat on the back. “So, if there’s no questions, we can get started.” He said, surveying the crowd for a raised hand or an interested eye. When he was met with nothing, he gave a slow nod, crossing his legs and taking in a long breath. “Would anyone like to start us off?”

The silence was so abundant that you could hear the honking of horns from the road. You waited for the chirp of crickets, but you knew that the building was filled with too much asbestos to house any living creature, insects included. Spiders on the other hand had seemed to grow resilience when it came to the toxicity of the environment, which only made them superhuman in comparison to their former self. You could see a few dangling from cobwebs in the corners of the room.

“I’ll go,” you said, speaking up only when the silence grew unbearable. “If nobody else wants to, I can start.”

“Sure,” Liam nodded, smiling at your willingness to proceed. “Whenever you’re comfortable.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, making yourself wonder why you had actually shown up on that solemn Friday morning. What had been so troublesome that you rushed out your front door the minute you woke up so you could attend a meeting?

That was a loaded question, one that likely had a million answers, but you settled on the thoughts that felt most pressing to you.

“I often hear the same sentiment when I talk about my addictions. I get the same sad smiles and sympathetic eyes, the ones that tell me that I’m more fucked up then even I can comprehend. I can see the refrain in their faces, like they want to run and hide. I get that it’s hard to understand something when you’ve never experienced it, but sometimes it makes me wonder how it’s so easy to dehumanize people who’ve gone through or are currently facing struggle.” You didn’t stop speaking for a reaction, but rather to gather your many thoughts before speaking them aloud. It seemed as though you were in more of a talking mood than you previously thought, because now that you had begun, you felt no inclination to stop.

“When someone grieves, we do not go out of our way to alienate them from us. When someone gets in an accident, we parade around with bouquets of flowers and well wishes. When alcoholics drink themselves to the point of no return, we put them on a transplant list for a new liver and hand out brochures on how to live a sober life. Why is it when someone learns that I’m an addict, I am denounced to nothing but a thief and a criminal? What makes my struggle different? What makes me less worthy of help?” You posed the question to the crowd, not expecting a real answer. “All of the aforementioned reasons are worthy of sympathy and compassion, but it makes me question why my struggle is not. Why, even when I walk into an Alcoholics Anonymous hall and speak my troubles aloud, they look at me as if I’m evil, as if their addiction is better than mine? The superiority complex of an addict who deems their addiction more digestible than my own makes my skin crawl, yet I see it every day.”

“I’ve been an addict since I was born, even if I didn’t touch drugs until I was a teenager. The addiction was engraved in my brain since conception—no matter active or not, I will always have the symptoms of the disease. It was shown to me first by my father, who was willing to abandon his three children in search of a high. I learned the rest of it from my mother, who was the highest functioning alcoholic I have ever met.” You paused, forcing your thoughts away from the face of your mother, which only ever seem to enrage you.

“When I was three, I was addicted to apple juice. I used to scream and cry and kick my feet until I was red in the face and my lungs started to ache. As soon as they placed that Disney Princess sippy-cup in my hands, it was like they shot me with a fucking tranquilizer dart. Two hours later, it started all over again. When I was seven, it was marshmallows. When I was eleven, it was that stupid fucking ‘Peggle’ game on my brothers Xbox. When I turned thirteen, I drank alcohol with my best friend for the first time. We stole it from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank so much we threw up for two whole days.” You explained, leaning forward in your chair and looking towards the floor.

“Even as I spilled my guts over that toilet and spent forty eight hours in misery, I knew that apple juice had nothing on alcohol, and it had given me more satisfaction than anything ever had. On my fifteenth birthday, all of my friends were out of town, so I thought I’d have my own fun at home alone, and hopefully drown out the sound of my mother terrorizing my brothers in the living room.” You explained, giving an empty smile. “I looked through my mothers pill cabinet, pulling out bottles and typing names into my phone to find out what it would do for me. I went back to my bedroom with three little white pills in my hand, locking the door behind me and sealing my fate for the rest of eternity.” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes for a moment. “That night, I discovered that OxyContin was far more effective than ‘Peggle’, and from there, I became the worst version of myself.” You heard a few hums of agreement around the room, unable to look up at the sad eyes staring at you. You knew that they hated seeing someone so young face the evil fangs of opiates, but no matter if they were sympathetic or not, you were still hurting over it just the same. Silence became you and you were unsure if talking was making it better, or hurting you more.

“My point is,” you continued, feeling your courage begin to return. “I didn’t wake up on my fifteenth birthday and decide to be an addict. I didn’t decide to be an addict every time I used after that, because it was never a choice. If you have bipolar disorder, it was in your brain long before you ever showed symptoms. If you have cancer, half of your insides are rotten before they catch it. I had an addiction long before I ever touched drugs, and I’ll have an addiction until the day I die. It does not make me lesser than anyone else, and it doesn’t make me a bad person. I had shit luck and poor genes, and I’ll suffer for the rest of my life, but my suffering does not make me a bad person, and it does not make me any different than another person walking down those streets. I’m not inherently evil because of it; I’m just someone who’s made mistakes, trying to atone for them. I’m still that little girl crying for apple juice, or that pre-teen begging my brother to play a game. The only difference is, I’ve had a taste of something far more powerful and much more lethal. I’m tired of being painted the villain, because it was the substance that turned me bad. I hurt people, and I hurt myself, but every day I wake up and choose to be different. It does not take away from what I have already done, but it does change to who I will be. That is the difference between a good person and a bad person, not the demons they’re fighting against.”

“I’m an addict, and I know I will be an addict until the day I die. I was born that way, but I made the conscious decision to use, and I will be stuck repenting for that until my last breath. I can’t sit before you and tell you I regret my decisions, because those were some of the best days of my life. I don’t regret it, even if it was a mistake. It was the best thing I have ever felt. I wake up every day still craving the high, wondering if it’s easier to just give in and let go. I spend every waking minute chasing that feeling, and even if I know I can never have it again, it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. It’s a constant struggle, a reminder of my own mistakes that I’m still trying to run away from, and it’s torture. At the same time, I came here today because I’ve been stuck wondering if it’s possible to change, to not be this person anymore.”

“I want to be good, to love life without being dependent on substance, but I worry that it’s not possible. I want to breathe without restraint, and I want to live without chains constantly holding me down. When I think about how hard it is to stay sober, I try to remember how hard it is to be an addict, and sometimes not even that can scare me away. I want to go back to the days where ‘Peggle’ and marshmallows could make me feel the same way. I’m trying to be something I’m not, and I’m afraid it’s not ever possible to be what I want. Will I be seventy years old and happy that I stayed sober, or will I be in that rocking chair looking back at my life, surrounded by grandchildren yet still remembering what it felt like to swallow that pill? Worse than that, I worry that seventy will never be in my hands, and I’ll die of the sickness before I can ever see it.” You paused, realizing that you were taking up far too much time. You blinked hard, bringing yourself back to reality and settling back in your chair. You looked to the water stained ceilings with tears pricking your dry eyes, wondering how the hell you got yourself here.

“Sobriety has been my best friend and my worst enemy, and I came here today because it’s my enemy. I know what I need to do, but today just it doesn’t seem possible. For now, I’m here. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and try again, because that’s all I can do. When it feels impossible, I just keep telling myself that it’s for the best. I'm no stranger to starting from zero, so what the hell is one more try, right?” A slow round of applause echoed around the room. You fought back an eye roll, knowing that all that you had said was not worthy of a celebration. It was a ugly thing, a eulogy to your former self, and sobriety had never been something you were proud of. It was a struggle, and it was something you could never seem to commit to. Trying again was your area of expertise because of how good you were at fucking up, and you did not feel right celebrating a temporary victory while the hardest battle was still looming just overhead.

“I can speak for everyone when I say that we’re incredibly happy that you decided to come here today.” Liam said, sending you a smile from across the circle. You forced one back, unable to hold his gaze for very long. “You’re not starting over again, y/n, you’re just starting to try harder.”

“Right,” you nodded, tracing the scarred stick-and-poke tattoo that was already fading away from the back of your hand. It did not feel like you were trying harder. If anything, it felt like you were closer to giving up.

If you had a shred of self awareness, you would have been able to see that because of that fact alone, you were trying harder than you ever had.

As Liam opened the floor for another poor soul, you thought over all you had said in your confessional. You wondered why you were feeling all of those things so strongly, and why they seemed to be worse today even in comparison to the days you spent sweating and shaking on a bathroom floor. Then, you remembered Vincent’s harsh words thrown your way the night prior, feeling yourself ache from the memory as if he was standing in front of you saying it all over again.

Vincent was your best friend, the one constant you had since packing your entire life up and moving across the country. He knew everything about you, held you at your worst and shared the happiest days. You cared so deeply about him, and definitely in a way stronger than friends, but you so badly wished you didn’t. Him knowing you so well made it easy for him to hurt you, and despite all the good he had and could still do, he consistently proved to you that he did not want to do good by you. He knew you so well, but it was the very reason why he had so much power to hurt you. Vincent wanted to love, but he did not know how. His feelings were fragile just as well as his ego, and he did not understand a thing about change. He was stuck in his way, never willing to see a different side of things, and because of that, it drove the two of you apart. The night prior, when he’d been so crude and unapologetic about his feelings about you and Danny, he wanted to hurt you in the same way he was hurting.

Lucky for him, he did just that, and even more so. He wanted to hurt, and hurt he did. It was so bad that you found yourself seeking comfort from strangers in an NA hall. It was so bad that it made you want to turn to drugs to take the ache away.

What he said stuck with you, and not just because he was the one who said it. Of course it hurt that he would say such terrible things to you, but you had grown used to Vincent taking his anger out on you in the form of harsh words and insults. Most of the time, you could brush it off after a while of sulking, but it hung over your head because you were terrified he was right. You liked Danny for many reasons, one being that he was nothing like Vincent. That being said, he was also nothing like you.

He did not know what it was like growing up with parents like yours, nor what it was like to spend most of his adolescence in and out of rehabilitation programs and therapy. He did not understand what it felt like to be at the police department, filing yet another missing persons report for his father, or better yet, getting detained for a night but unable to be held due to age. He did not know what it was like to run away from home every other weekend because sleeping under a park bench seemed more appealing than sharing a space with his mother. More than anything, he did not understand what it was like for drugs to take precedence over every other thing in his life. You certainly didn’t take him as such, and you were sure that by now, you would have seen some inkling that he was like you. You wanted to find anything that could relate to your tragic life, but there was nothing.

You looked back on all of your conversations, wondering if maybe you missed something he said, but it all aligned perfectly with Vincent’s venomous words. He played golf, specifically with his dad, he was traveling the world with his best friends to find ‘inspiration’ without needing to find a part time job in every city, and he confided in you once on a Sunday evening that he missed his mom.

Danny did not know what life was like for you, nor would he ever, even if he tried. Your struggle was completely foreign to him, and although he seemed like someone with a big heart and the desire to understand and sympathize with everyone he came across, you feared that once he knew all of you, he would run with no intention of ever coming back. You couldn’t blame him, because your baggage was too heavy for even yourself at times, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. It was a terrible feeling to have, knowing that no matter how much you like someone, you can never be completely transparent and honest with them about yourself. You would never expect him to accept the tragedies that accompanied you, and you felt foolish for thinking that you could have a relationship with someone so normal while you were so far from it.

You wanted him to be the one to take you away from such things, but you feared the tragedy ran so deep that you would be the one to bring him down with you.

Of course Vincent would be the one to point out your flaws and ruin a good thing before it happened.

Then again, you could not blame him, because you were equally as good at fucking things up.

You liked Danny too much to cut him off entirely, so you decided to continue on with the texting and calling, and even the laughing until 4am and the harmless flirting. You would cut it off when the time was right, just so you didn’t fall too hard for him. You knew it was best, because he was too good to get caught up in you. He was someone you could have fun with, to distract you while you built yourself back up. He would leave eventually anyway, and you would never have to think about it again. Your skies were much too dark for a rainbow, and now that you were thinking of it, you weren’t sure they had ever seen anything as bright as him. This way, you could enjoy him for the time being, but you wouldn’t get your heart broken when he decided you were too much for him. It was a win-win for both of you.

Even if you chose to believe such things, you failed to see that you had already gotten your heart broken at the idea of being too broken. Your current situation made you believe all of the previous notions even more deeply, because you had not even faced rejection at Danny’s hands and you were already sitting in a talk circle listening to people drone on about their love of smack and resentment towards their family for keeping them away from it. You were fragile enough that you’d hurt your own feelings with feeble ideas and assumptions, and you were so weak that it nearly killed your ambition to stay sober. Most of all, you were selfish for wanting to subject Danny to such things at all.

That was one habit you could not kick when you got sober; you were a selfish being who loved to feel good, and now that you could not get high, you had to search for thrills elsewhere. Danny made you feel good, and so good that you could not fathom giving that up even if it was better for everyone to do so.

The meeting wrapped up later than usual, mostly due to Carol’s inconsolable crying as she blubbered on about her youngest daughter's wedding and how her invitation got ‘lost in the mail’. You bit your tongue, knowing that correcting her assumptions about the situation would do no good and would only get you a scolding from Liam (and those were the worst). You made sure your phone and your cigarettes were in your pocket before standing, feeling the muffins bounce against your leg. As if on cue, your stomach growled at the memory of the double chocolate treat that was wrapped in plastic, awaiting your attention. Liam instructed everyone to stop by before they left, to which only some of the attendees obliged to. Despite your growing stomach and desire to leave, you complied with the request and approached him before making your departure.

You were the first in line to speak with him, but it did not come as a surprise; usually you were the only one willing to see him once the hour was up. He still had his clipboard in his hand, his pen hovering over the paper as he searched for your name and crossed it off. “You’ve got a thing for apple juice,” he noted, looking up over the frames of his (seemingly expensive) glasses.

“What?” You chuckled, curious as to what he meant.

“You talk about apple juice at every meeting. Is that code for something else, or do you really just like it that much?” Now, you laughed, finding his inquiry less invasive and much more amusing.

“Not code,” you shook your head, the smile lingering on your lips. “I just really like it. When I was a kid, it was the only type of juice my mom would let me drink. Guess it reminds me of easier times, or maybe I still wish apple juice was the only addiction I had to worry about. I don’t really drink it anymore because I worry that I’m trading a drug addiction for an apple juice addiction. In my head, neither are good.” You theorized, looking towards the ground for a moment.

“I see,” he chuckled, reaching over and grabbing his bag and pulling out a red key tag. He handed it to you, smiling at the sight. “Three months as of tomorrow. I feel like I can trust you enough to give it to you a day early. Some motivation to get through the weekend.”

“Right,” you nodded, forcing a smile as you reached for it. “Maybe it would mean more if it was my first time.” You couldn’t help but feel some resentment at the sight. It was your second time getting a red key tag, and it lost all of its novelty once you had to give up the blue tag that signified six months. You almost had your hands on a yellow one, but you fell just shy of nine months after one particularly reckless night at the Pony. You’d had an arrangement of surrender and thirty day markers, but they were less catastrophic to lose when you started over again. Knowing you had nearly a year under your belt just to throw it all away made you sick to your stomach.

“You have to celebrate the little victories, y/n. You can’t always feel like you’re failing, because you’ll never have any motivation to get better.” He said, giving you a stern look.

“But it doesn’t really get better, Liam. It doesn’t matter if I have three months or three years, I’ll still be an addict and I’ll still want it just the same.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. “Recovery is just a bandage to keep yourself together. The longer this goes on, the more I feel like I’ll actually be seventy and still feel this way.”

“It’s easier to see when you’re further away from it. Right now, it’s all you know, but that doesn’t mean it will always be all that you know. Life grows around you, but you have to choose if you want to grow with it, or get lost in it.” He explained. You took the tag, shoving it in your pocket. You knew he was right, but it was easier to feel miserable than it was to be hopeful. It felt better when misery was proven wrong rather than when hopefulness was crushed. “You’re doing better than you think. You have three months under your belt. It doesn’t matter that it’s for a second time, it matters that you did it. Some people don’t even get there once.”

“I know.” You cleared your throat, fighting the tears rising in your throat. “Thanks, Liam. I’ll see you next week.” You said, finally looking to meet his eyes.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching back into his bag. You watched for a moment, wondering what he was searching for. Then, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he pulled out a bottle from his bag. You looked to the ceiling, feeling your face burn and tears rush to your eyes. “I brought it for lunch, but now I think I brought it for a much different reason. You need it more than I do.”

“Liam, I can’t take that.” You shook your head, still looking at the peeling paint at the top of the walls.

“I insist.” He said, using a tone of finality. After a few seconds, you took a deep breath and looked towards him once again. Once you saw the certainty in his eyes, you reached out and took the bottle of apple juice from him with gratitude written all over your face. “Sometimes things are just as simple as apple juice, y/n, not the big complicated mess that you try and turn everything into. It’s not a metaphor, and you’re not trading apples for oranges. It’s a bottle of juice that’s going to make you feel better, and it’s something that won’t hurt you unless you make it into something bigger. You can enjoy it and not have to feel bad about it, just like you’re allowed to fuck up and still believe that you can do better.” He explained, giving you a smile. “You’re in control, whether that means getting high or drinking juice. You decide whether you should or not. Today, you decided to come here instead of getting high, and right now, you’re deciding to drink juice. You’re capable of doing better and being better, because you already have. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Your right,” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “Thank you, Liam.”

“No need for thanks.” He brushed you off, straightening up in his seat. “You have a number to call if you need it this weekend, right?”

“I do.”

“And you’ll use it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I will.” You nodded. He did too, happy with your answer.

“Okay. I’ll see you next week.” He gave you permission to leave, happy that he seemed to have helped. You were a tough nut to crack, between your raging self-destructive attitude and your inability to see the positive side of things, but he was happy to be the one to finally make the difference.

You walked out the front door (sipping on apple juice, thanks to Liam), finding that the air had warmed since you had gone inside. The sun was brighter and the wind was less intense, making your spirits brighten as it gave you a promise of summer. You reached into your pocket to grab a cigarette, finding your chest had loosened from its earlier tension and your migraine begin to subside. As you pulled out your pack, you grumbled at the lightness of it. When you flipped the top open, revealing one last cigarette (upside down for luck, of course), you closed your eyes as you tried not to let the disappointment consume you. You wondered if you had enough money to buy another, hating yourself and the world for having to choose between paying rent or buying the only thing that was keeping you sane.

As you reached for your phone to check your account balance, the screen lit up to show the time. It was already well past twelve thirty, yet that wasn’t the thing that caught your attention. Below the bold numbers was a missed call, which was followed by an incoming text only a few moments later.

“Fuck!” You exploded, uncaring of the passerby’s giving you strange looks.

The addiction had been so pertinent that it allowed you to forget about your anticipated plans with the incredibly cute and sweet boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You dialed the number back, pressing the phone to your ear. Within seconds he answered, his cheery tone warming your heart immediately. “Utah! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Was worried you forgot about me.”

“I’m so sorry Danny,” you sighed, looking around at the people passing you by. “I, uh… I had an appointment I forgot about.”

“That’s okay. How long are you gonna be? Or do you just want to call it off and reschedule?” His understanding was astounding, but it did not make you feel better; it was gut wrenching, and it made it so much harder to keep your heart out of things. Danny seemed fun, sure, but he also seemed like someone you could easily fall in love with. You were playing very a dangerous game.

“No, I’m all good now.” You promised. “If you still want to hang, of course.” The morning has thrown you so violently off course that you were doubting everything, including his interest in your despite him being the one who called first.

“F’course I do.” He chuckled. “I called, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you forced a chuckle, having to agree with him.

“You okay, Utah?” He asked, now seeming a bit concerned. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You assured him. “Was just a rough morning is all, I’m okay now.”

“Hopefully I can make the rest of the day better, then.” He replied, sympathizing with your rough start to the day. He had no idea, but hearing his voice alone had already brightened your spirits. “We’re just driving around. We’re near the Fox if you want me to pick you up, or we can meet somewhere if that’s easier for you.”

“If I send you an address, you think you can find it?” You smirked, knowing he was in unfamiliar territory. You remembered how disoriented you felt when you first came to New York, wondering if he felt the same, or if he was one of those people who didn’t worry about anything at all.

“I’m sure the two of us could figure it out.”

“Whatever you say, Michigan.” You grinned. “See you in a few.”

“Can’t wait.” He said, sincerity laced within his tone.

With that, you ended the call and proceeded to check your bank account, happy to see you had more than you thought. You looked around, checking for cars before jumping off the front porch of the old church and crossing the street. As you cut through an old alleyway, you texted Danny the name of the gas station you were headed to, knowing you would be there before him. There was no way in hell you were going to let him pick you up from an NA hall on your first ‘date’.

Of course, you had little hope that it would be a real date at all, nor did you think that any date like activities would ensue afterwards. They were probably just looking for something to pass the time, and you served as a great tour guide.

As you walked through an old parking lot after the alley, you could already see the old sign for the store. You waited to cross the busy street, and when you saw a break in traffic, you sprinted to the other side. By doing so, it seemed like you instantly left the rough part of the neighbourhood. Fancy cars drove by and women in expensive clothes walked in and out of the convenience store. All the same, you felt immediately out of place.

Tired and still not feeling the best, you tossed the empty apple juice bottle in the garbage, pushing through the door and walking inside. It was moderately busy, but not enough to be bothersome to you. Before running to the register to grab a pack of cigarettes, you walked towards the back of the store where the candy aisle was located. Without much effort, you found the biggest bag of Warheads sour candy that you could see. After that, you turned towards the drink coolers and grabbed the cheapest energy drink. Satisfied with your choices, you walked to the register and placed the items on the counter. The older lady who was working gave you a long look, studying you as she rang in the items.

“Pack of reds?” She asked, already reaching towards the cabinet before you answered.

“How’d you know?” You chuckled, knowing that every few days you came in for the exact same thing.

“Think you’re the only one who buys these.” She said, looking over the bag of sour candy. “Have no idea how you can stand eating them.” She chuckled, watching as you tapped your card against the reader.

“They’re not half bad.” You smiled, waving her off as she tried to hand you the receipt. In truth, you didn’t love them. You had grown to tolerate most sour foods as it was an easy way to curb the craving for the things you could not have. The sourness was a shock, immediately distracting you from the relentless thoughts, and the sugar gave a nice dopamine rush that made you feel better for a few moments. You repeated the process until your tongue was in too much pain to have another, and by then, you were over the worst of the craving. “Have a good day!” You called over your shoulder as you walked out the door, not hanging around for long enough to hear an answer.

As the door shut behind you, you grabbed the last cigarette from your pack and struck the lighter. As the flame ignited the tip, you heard a commotion off to the side of the store where the bulk of the parking lot was. You turned, curious about the sound, but you were not stuck wondering about it for very long. As you focused your eyes under the blazing sun, your gaze fixated on a Jeep, but it was not the vehicle that kept your attention. Instead, it was the curly haired boy hanging his head out the window with a blinding smile on his lips. You could not help but smile back as he waved you over, uncaring about hiding his excitement to see you.

“Long time no see, Utah.” He greeted you as you walked within earshot. “Told you I could find my way around New York.”

“Seems like it.” You chuckled, taking a drag from your cigarette. Without any further comment, he opened the car door and stepped outside with you. “I’m glad you found me. Saves me from sending a search party out for you.”

“You really had such little faith in me?” He raised an eyebrow, his sunglasses sadly blocking your view of his pretty brown eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause you proved me wrong.” You grinned, already feeling the hurt in your chest begin to subside. When you were in his company, it was hard to feel sad about anything. He was so easygoing and excited about life that it was difficult to feel any differently than him. Then, he reached forward and pulled you into a hug, which made your stomach twist and your heart flutter. What would normally be an awkward moment, felt nothing like it. It was comfortable, it was safe, and it was right. You wrapped your arm around him, making sure to keep your cigarette away from his expensive looking jacket so you did not burn it.

The small gesture made all of your fears obsolete; he wanted to be with you, to hang out and waste the day with you. He was disappointed at the idea of cancelling plans, and overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you. He was genuine, and he was nothing like Vincent was trying to portray him as. You didn’t have to feel stupid for liking him so much in such a short time, because he felt the same way.

“I’m glad we didn’t have to cancel, Utah. Been looking forward to seeing you all morning.”

“Me, too.” You breathed. “I’m sorry I forgot about the appointment. Promise I wasn’t trying to blow you off.” You explained, still trying to hold on to the lingering scent of his cologne as he let go.

“No worries, I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you didn’t change your mind.” He confessed, a sheepish smile crossing his lips. “We still have a few hours before you have to get to work. I’m sure there’s lots we can do by then.”

“Yeah, for sure.” You nodded. “So what about this Sam guy I’ve been hearing all about? Is he imaginary?” You said, looking to the front seat to see nobody else in the car.

“That’s me,” You jumped in surprise when a head popped out from the backseat. A smiling face stuck between the two front seats let you know that Sam was in fact real. The tint on the windows allowed for him to stay concealed, but it did not answer any questions about why he was sitting in the backseat. Then, a second head popped out from between the seats, but this one was much cuter than the two boys combined. “And this is Rosie. Hope you like dogs.” Sam grinned, reaching up and wrapping an arm around her.

“Hi,” you laughed, unable to keep a straight face at the sight. “And I definitely do. No need to worry about that.”

“She is pretty, Daniel. You were right.” At that, your cheeks turned red, but not nearly as badly as Danny’s did.

“I should have left him at home.” Danny muttered, shaking his head at his friend.

“No worries,” you said, reaching out and landing a soft hand on his arm. “Good to know you think I’m pretty.”

“As if that wasn’t obvious enough.” He said, looking down at your hand on his arm for a moment, then back up at your face. The two of you shared a glance for a moment, wondering how it seemed so easy between you despite you barely knowing each other. You wanted more, to know him and to spend every afternoon making jokes and laughing. You wanted to kiss him, and you had since the very first time you laid eyes on him. He seemed like he wanted it too, yet the both of you remained frozen in place, neither one of you having enough courage to move first. “So, you have any ideas for what we can do today?” He changed the topic, too nervous to continue staring.

“Depends on what kind of day you want to have.” You said, only mildly disappointed at the change of subject. You knew that kissing him right now in that moment was not the wisest idea, especially with his best friend observing the both of you so closely. Plus, you feared that if you leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, you would only be doing so in hopes of covering up all of the misery from the morning. If you were to kiss him, you wanted to be certain it was for the right reason. “There’s a park not too far from here. It’s a super nice spot, not too many people go. I’m sure Rosie would love it.” You said, motioning to the dog that was clinging to Sam’s side. “Or there’s a few shops a few streets over. I think they’re all pet friendly. I see lots of people in an out of there with loads of different pets.”

“We can do both if you want.” Danny offered, looking inside the vehicle momentarily to see if Sam was in agreement.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking the last drag from your cigarette and tossing the butt into a nearby puddle. The snow was long gone now, replaced with rain as dampness lingered on the ground to remind you of the winter. You were excited for warmer weather, and the sun in the sky seemed to be promising of a nice day.

“Hop in, Utah.” Danny nodded his head towards his car, but quickly second guessed his choice. He took a step in your direction, but walked past you and to the other side of the car, opening the passenger door for you. You followed after him, sheepishly climbing into the vehicle after muttering a small thanks. Within seconds, he was back in the drivers side, smiling over at you. “You just tell me where to go and I’ll drive.” As he spoke, Rose seemed to be fighting with Sam to try and get to the front seat, intrigued at your presence and excited to get to know you.

You sat the bag of candy down beside your leg on the seat, then placed the energy drink in the empty cup holder. You slid your lighter in your pocket and shifted around to get a better look at the dog that seemed so eager to greet you. “Hi, baby.” You reached out cautiously, not wanting to scare her. She sniffed your hands for a moment, which quickly turned to licking, then she shoved her head into your hands so you would pet her. As you scratched behind her ear, Sam seemed to be laughing at the two of you.

“She likes you… We’re gonna have to keep you around.” Sam deducted, his hand still resting on her back. You noticed he was holding the back of her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t proceed any further than she already had.

“I guess so.” You chuckled.

“Is that… breakfast?” Danny asked, stifling a laugh as he looked down at the bag of candy and the beverage you had purchased. He’d been trying to hold the question back, but it seemed too pressing to ignore. You looked down at the items he was referring to, feeling a small blush dust across your cheeks.

“So what if it is?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite feeling defensive over the fact. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you for a moment. You reached down, tearing the bag open and grabbing one of the candies. You extended your arm towards him with a stupid smile on your lips. “Want one?” He watched you for a moment, trying to figure out if you were being serious. His gaze flickered to your hand and eventually, he reached out to grab it.

“Do you want something to eat? You know, other than caffeine and cigarettes?” He offered, a smirk stuck on his lips.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching into one of your large coat pockets. You pulled out one of the wrapped muffins, flashing him a smile. “That’s what this is for.”

“You really came prepared, then. I can appreciate that.” He laughed, not sure if he was willing to accept you having only a muffin for breakfast. Then again, he didn’t necessarily feel like it was his place to say anything, even if he wished he could.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You chuckled. “If you cut through the parking lot and go down that little side street,” you paused, pointing in the direction of the street that was just barely visible. “And you drive down the road for a while, there’s this cute little antique shop that I think is pretty cool.” You explained, sitting back in the comfortable seat. It was way better than the leather seats in Vincent’s old car, but you neglected that thought. You shouldn’t have been thinking about Vincent at all. Instead, your focus should be on the boy sitting across from you, the very one you stayed up until sunrise writing about in your journal. The same one you had been texting until you were too tired to respond, and the one who infiltrated your dreams and put a smile on your face even during sleep.

You did not know Danny very well, but you knew him well enough to know that since meeting him, the world seemed a little bit brighter. The rain was less dreary and not even the bitter wind could bring you down. You were excited to wake up, happy even to foot the phone bill that was usually paid with a twenty dollar bill, because the new price meant that Danny had not grown tired of talking to you. You wrote in your journal until your fingers felt like they would fall off, and you had a growing collection of notes scribbled on scrap paper left on the dirty tables at the Fox. He gave you something to look forward to, and he gave you something to smile about. When you finished talking to him, you were not plagued with guilt or worry like you often were when you spoke with Vincent. You did not know Danny well, but you wanted to, and you were determined to. You made a pact with yourself to know him as well as you could by the end of the day, because you never wanted to stop learning about him.

And Sam now, too. You could not forget about him and his big personality sitting behind you just out of sight.

“To the cute little antique shop, then.” Danny said, smiling as he reversed out of the parking space and drove in the direction you told him to. “So what makes this place so special?”

“What?” You chuckled, looking over at him.

“It’s gotta mean something to you if it’s the first place you thought of.”

‘Damn him and his observant self.’

“Yeah, I guess.” You nodded. “I go there a lot. Was one of the first places I found after I moved here. I bought a journal there my first day in the city, and I used it until there was no way I could fit anything else in it.” You explained. “They have lots of old paintings and household stuff, and a huge collection of records and books. They get most of their stuff from estate sales and the rest of it from people who were sick of looking at it.”

“Do you collect records or books?” He asked, curious about your hobbies other than writing.

“No,” you shook your head. “I have some books, but I write a lot more than I read, so I don’t really see a need to buy more than I’ll ever need. I love the records, and I would buy them if I had a record player. Been trying to save up for one, but it never seems to work out.” You smiled, looking over at him. It did not break your heart that you didn’t have a record player, mostly because it was a luxury, and you were used to never having anything luxurious. You were thankful for the roof over your head and food to eat, and unless those were taken away, complaining wasn’t something you were fond of.

“What records would you buy if you had a player?” Sam asked, piping in from the backseat. You took a moment to think about it, but eventually settled on the first ones that came to mind.

“Bringing It All Back Home by Bob Dylan,” you said, confident in your answer. “I remember my grandfather playing over and over again until my grandmother was so fed up she turned it off herself.” You chuckled. “Harvest by Neil Young, too. He was a big fan of that one.”

“Good choices.” Sam commented, surprised by your answer.

“Can’t Buy a Thrill!” You exploded, unsure how you could forget such a monumental album.

“Steely Dan?” Danny looked over at you from the drivers seat, intrigued by your enthusiasm. There was a smile still lingering on his lips as you looked over at him, the sight nearly taking your breath away.

“The first time I heard ‘Dirty Work’, it changed my whole life. My brothers got so sick of it that they would pay me to turn it off. They’re not the brightest though, cause I made at least a hundred bucks off of them.” Both boys got a good chuckle out of the thought.

“Noted,” Danny said, switching between watching you and the road. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Two,” you replied. “Both older. Patrick is 26 now, and he works for some fancy tech company back home. Hunter is 25 and works at a construction company.”

“Are you close with them?” He continued to ask questions in hopes that he could know you better than anyone else. Knowing you was his top priority, much like how you wanted to know him.

“Not as much since I moved away from home, but yeah. Even when we were kids, we did everything together.” You explained, not wanting to dive too deep into it. You were close not by choice, but out of necessity. Your family was so fundamentally fucked up that relying on your siblings was the only way to survive. “You said you had a sister, right? You mentioned her the other night when we were talking.” He nodded at your words, happy that you remembered the small detail. Little did he know, you clung to every word that left his mouth. “Just her, or do you have more siblings?”

“Just her, but Sam is close enough.”

“Do you have siblings, Sam?”

“Three of ‘em.” He chuckled.

“So you were never bored growing up, I take it.”

“Never.” He confirmed, giving you a smile from the backseat.

“The store’s just up here on the left,” you told Danny, glancing over at him. You couldn’t help but admire him for a moment, finding that the sun was shining on him in the most perfect way. It illuminated his already glowing cheeks, shadowed by the curls of his hair hanging over his shoulders. The sunglasses sat atop his nose, but with the sun shining on the dark lenses, you could see him looking over at you, too.

Danny pulled into an available parking space that you pointed out, looking around the streets as people walked by. Many had leashed dogs and coffee cups in their hands. The scarves wrapped around their necks made it seem like it was colder than it was, and so did the expensive coats. You always felt slightly out of place when you visited the shops. They were decorated with people screaming with wealth. Leather handbags and clothing that had never experienced a tear or a stain. You knew you were from the poor part of town, your apartment complex falling apart and homeless people littering the sidewalks and alleyways by your home. The corner stores and bars were in just as bad shape as the Fox, and the skyscrapers stopped tickling the skyline about a mile out from the section of the city you called home.

You didn’t mind it, but you did fear that the other two would if you brought them by your place. You were always conscious of what others thought, even if you knew you shouldn’t care. It was much easier said than done, and even if you believed you weren’t doing that bad, you were doing quite poorly in comparison to the majority of the population. The discounted rate on rent from subsidized housing was the only reason you could afford your shitty apartment, and even if you had made it into a home, it was far from flashy. The entire building looked like it would give way under a strong wind, and the inside was only slightly better. You covered most of the holes and peeling paint with art, but it only went so far. The appliances were older than you, and the landlord had aesthetically fixed all of the major issues, but it did not help the structural integrity.

You always felt out of place when you were in a store, no matter fancy or not. You feared your card would decline every time, and you wondered if the few items in your refrigerator and cupboards would last you until next payday if you purchased anything extra. Most people tried not to pass judgement when they realized your economic status, but you could see it in their eyes. It was pity more than anything else, but you would be lying if you said it did not bother you. It killed you to think that Danny would look inwards at your life and feel the same things, but you knew it was a possibility. Unfortunately, as much as you wished it wasn’t, not only was it always a possibility, but a reality.

“You ready?” Danny asked, breaking your focus from your internal brooding.

“Yeah, f’course.” You nodded, pushing a smile on your lips. You got out first, stepping on the sidewalk and turning to face the vehicle as you waited for the other two to join you. Danny stepped out first while Sam made sure Rose was leashed properly. Not long after, the other two were walking happily to accompany you. You looked at the door, smiling as you saw the little sticker with the silhouette of a dog encased in a big green circle. “See, Rosie?” You grinned, looking down at her. At the sound of her name, her tail began to wag as her tongue hung happily out of the side of her mouth. “Told you they’d let you in.”

With that, Danny stepped towards the door, letting his hand fall on the small of your back. The gentle touch was barely noticeable, yet it turned your whole world upside down. Your stomach erupted into butterflies and your heart sped, and you began to question your own sanity. A man had never before made you feel so strongly from such a small action, especially an innocent one. You all stepped inside, taken by the scent of old books and oil paint. The store smelled the same every time, and when you got closer to the register, you could notice essential oils and brewed coffee. It was a comforting feeling when you stepped inside, familiar as if you had lived a thousand lives inside that store alone.

“I’m gonna check out the paintings.” Sam said, his eyes immediately catching on the fancy frames and landscapes encased inside.

“Sam’s a bit of an art whore.” Danny mumbled, turning his head down to look at you. He was standing closer than usual, definitely closer than he would at the dinner, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Aren’t we all?” You challenged, wishing he would move closer.

“True,” he nodded. “If you don’t like art, you’ve gotta be a pretty disappointing person.” You let out a laugh, abrupt and loud at the harsh words coming from such a sweet mouth.

“Right.” You nodded, wondering if it was possible to live in the moment forever. It was so simple with his hand on your back and a laugh stuck between your teeth. The world didn’t seem so terrible, and unlike how life normally felt, the small world the two of you were existing within seemed right. There was no fear of the unknown, no guilt or shame, and it didn’t feel forced. You felt like you’d spent 23 years of your life faking it, but with him, the connection felt real and not based on any external factors. It was simple attraction and nothing further than the fact that the two of you got along well. “Come with me,” you whispered, nodding your head in the direction of your favourite room in the entire shop.

The building was quite similar to that of a townhouse, and if you had to guess, you imagined it once was. They allocated the different rooms for each genre of items they sold. There was a record room, a room for books, home decor, and clothes that looked to be made decades ago. The main area had the register and was plastered with paintings and posters all waiting for someone to take them home, and miscellaneous items were displayed on tables within various rooms. Most of the things inside the store were much too expensive for you to even imagine buying, but every now and again you stumbled across a tiny treasure that you could afford to bring home with you. Sometimes, they heavily discounted things when they were getting ready to bring in new items, so you knew to keep your eye out for any advertising signs.

When you passed through the doorway, Danny was still close behind. He took a few moments to look around the room, taking it all in. After a while of shared silence, he let out a long exhale. “Wow.” He stated, unwilling to leave your side despite being eager to look around.

“It’s great, right?” You chuckled, taking in the shelves full of vinyl records. “I knew a music guy like you would have to appreciate it.”

“Music guy…” he trailed off, looking down at you for a moment. “You remembered?”

“Obviously.” You gave him a soft smile. “Drums, guitar, little bit of mandolin if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” he breathed, a bit surprised at how well you remembered his late night rambling.

“F’course I do.” You reiterated your point, cementing the notion in his brain. Instead of dwelling, you guided him towards the shelves holding the baskets of records. Absentmindedly, you began flipping through the vinyls, hoping he would, too. When he finally took your lead and began his own search, you spoke again. “M’sorry again about earlier. I hope you didn’t think I was trying to ditch you.”

“I actually didn’t think that at all.” He chuckled, taking his time as he read over the name of every album. “I mean, maybe for like a minute, but I honestly thought you slept in a bit longer than usual. I didn’t want to call you—was worried I would wake you.” He pulled one sleeve out above the rest, taking an interest for a moment before putting it back. “You seemed really tired when we were talking on the phone last night.” You froze as his words hit you, suddenly remembering the sleep-laced conversation and nervous butterflies that plagued your entire body. You remembered mumbling sentiments while your wrist wrote out the deepest desires of your heart on paper. Then, you remembered falling asleep, but not a goodbye.

“Did I… did I fall asleep on the phone?” You asked, looking over at him. Redness began to creep up on your cheeks as you waited for an answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, saying it as if the instance was completely normal. “Thought it was cute.” You bit down on the inside of your lip, praying that your face wasn’t giving away your feelings yet knowing it was. Then, the strangeness of the situation hit you and you could not hold back your inquiries.

“Speaking of… what the hell were you doing up at six in the morning?” You asked, turning the tables on him. He glanced over at you without turning his head, suspicious without even speaking. “Actually, you seem to be awake every morning when I get off work.” It was a question that crossed your mind more often than not, yet you never seemed to care to ask.

“Early riser.” He shrugged, hoping to avoid the topic entirely.

“Right…” you trailed off, less focused on the crumbling vinyl sleeves and more focused on the crimson of his cheeks. “See, that would be believable, but considering you were at the diner at one in the morning last night, I don’t think that’s the case.” You pressed further. “No way you’re so cheery for a man who only got four hours of sleep.”

“Okay, you caught me.” He sighed, pretending to be upset about your discovery. Truth was, he knew he would have to fess up sooner or later, and sooner seemed to be his only option. “I usually wake up for a little while to talk to you when you get home, and then I go back to sleep when you do.”

You were stunned at the thought, mostly because you could not comprehend someone wanting to talk to you so badly. The effort and thought that went into setting an alarm every morning at six was far beyond anything anyone else had ever done for you. You wanted to chastise him, but it was a bit too touching for you to make a joke out of it.

“You don’t have to do that, Danny.” You whispered, hoping he would look over at you so you could catch sight of the beautiful brown eyes you’d grown to love so much. “I love talking to you, but not if you’re losing sleep over it.”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do.” He dismissed you. “Besides, I want to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.”

For some strange reason, you wished he answered differently. Not because you wanted him to care less, but because you were terrified of him caring at all.

Everything you touched always seemed to turn to dust, and Danny was someone you could not fathom inflicting that fate upon.

“Unless you don’t want me to?” He said, taking your silence as something bad.

“No,” you shook your head. “No… I mean if you want to—if you’re okay with doing it, I definitely don’t mind.”

“Then it’s settled,” he hummed, switching to a different bin to search through. “They have some good stuff here.” He said, pulling out a blue coloured album. You glanced over, recognizing the sight immediately. A smile crossed your face as you watched him.

“Joni Mitchell.” You stated, craning your neck to get a better look.

“You know this album?” He asked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, stepping towards him. “My grandpa might have liked Dylan, but my grandma loved Joni Mitchell.” You were right behind him now, close enough that you could have placed a hand on him had you been courageous enough.

“You talk about your grandparents a lot.” He noted. “You close with them?” He could hear your breath hitch in your throat as he finished speaking, wondering if maybe he never should have spoken at all. After a moment, you recovered enough to answer.

“I was, yeah.” You cleared your throat, covering up the strain of the words. “I spent most of my time there, actually. My grandma was my best friend, and my grandpa was a close second. He passed away when I was fifteen, and she passed away not long before I moved here. If they were still around, i probably never would have moved at all.” He turned towards you, letting the record slide back to its original place. His hand landed delicately on your hip, but in no way did it appear romantic. Even if your face was stony, he could see the pain plaguing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Utah. I didn’t mean to bring that up for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. “I love talking about them, and I’m glad you asked.” You assured him. A small smile crossed his lips, stunned by your resilience to pain.

“I’d love to hear more about them, if you ever feel like talking.” His hand on your hip still remained, and the longer he touched you, the more comfortable it became. You never wanted him to stop. Suddenly, it all became a little too real for you. You blinked twice, bringing yourself back to reality as you turned back towards the record bins.

You wanted it, but you did not know how to let it happen. You were so good at making bad decisions that it seemed inherently bad to choose the right thing.

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded, knowing that you never would. Then again, never is a strong word, and for some strange reason you had the impression that Danny was someone you could trust. Maybe someday, ‘never’ would turn out to be a distant memory.

You stepped towards another shelf, your eye catching a familiar cover. Carefully, you reached out, sliding it from the stack of records to get a better look. “Oh, wow.” You breathed, buzzing with excitement and nearly forgetting about the heavy conversation seconds before. “Look at this.” You said, catching Danny’s attention without breaking your stare from the vinyl.

He stepped up behind you, much closer than you were anticipating. Your back was nearly pressed against his chest and his hand lingered gently on your side. You knew he could see perfectly over your head; the height difference made it seem like he towered over you. He did so as an excuse to be close to you, and no other reason. You were okay with it, because for the few seconds you had stepped away from him, you’d already grown to miss the feeling.

“Bella Donna,” he said, studying the familiar sight. “Stevie Nicks fan?”

“Who isn’t?” You chuckled, turning it over to check the back of it. All of the records were secondhand, but it made them all the more special. Not only did they come with fantastic tracklists, but a story within every fraying edge and fading color. “She’s fantastic. She’s… everything.” Danny was silent for a moment, taking in your statement. When he finally answered, he wasn’t looking at the album, but rather at you.

“Yeah, she is.” The conviction in his tone made you pause your previous train of thought, turning to look at him as he gazed down upon you. It was evident that Stevie Nicks has long fled his train of thought. You didn’t have the courage to call him on it, so instead, you enjoyed the fleeting feeling of finally being important to someone. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and even when you could remember a time when you did, it felt nothing like it did then. You were overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, unable to comprehend how he seemed so perfect. Every word that left his mouth drew you in, every smile melted your heart, and every touch (albeit few and far between) took your breath away.

You were waiting for something to show, or to peek through the perfect exterior he’d put on for you. You longed for something to appear that could demolish the pedestal you had placed him upon, but it never seemed to come. You knew that with time, you were bound to find something that would taint your view of him, whether it be something major or a plethora of tiny things that steadily creeped up on you. Nobody could be without fault, and the fact that he’d gone so long without showing you any bad traits made you worry that when he did, it would be worse than anything you ever imagined.

Maybe that was your problem; you could not bear the thought of something going well for you, so you self-sabotaged by actively looking for something that would force you to run away.

Most of the time, there was nothing to find, and you were running from a monster created by your very own mind.

When you thought about it for too long, the more it seemed like running was the only thing you had ever known how to do.

You could not wrap your head around the idea of wanting to stay, but as Danny looked down at you with emotion stronger than lust in his eyes, you knew there was nothing else you would rather do. You wondered if running was always your first choice because nobody ever cared enough to give you a reason to stay. You’d known Danny for a short time, so short that he was nearly a stranger. You didn’t know his middle name, or his birthday, or even his favourite color. Despite that, you knew that the feeling of his company was something you’d searched for your entire life, and up until now, you’d only ever found it in one other thing. The difference was, you were confident in saying that the aftermath of Danny’s company was nothing like the aftermath of a good high. He seemed fulfilling, like his aura would surround you long after he left and the feeling in your heart would last even if he was not within reach.

If you weren’t so stubborn, you would have noticed that it had already affected you in such ways. When you stretched your wrist, it ached from all of the writing you had been doing in the early hours of the morning. When you woke that very morning with urges stronger than ever before, your first thought was to go to a meeting rather than submitting to the temptations of substance. You weren’t dreading waking up, nor were you struggling to sleep.

Danny did not fix your life for you, but he did make it easier to cope with. He could not fix problems he did not know existed, nor could he do so even if he knew your troubles. Instead, he allowed you to see a brighter side of life than what you’d grown so comfortable with. He helped you feel excitement for the next day and the possibilities it held. He gave you a person to talk to, making your nights much less lonely. He gave you the feeling of being wanted, and for nothing greater than the feeling of mutual want itself. He didn’t want to see you for ulterior motives, and he did not want anything more out of the interaction. He simply enjoyed your company, and it made you feel more human than you had since you were a child.

You’d been standing for so long in the same position that you feared you’d both turn to stone with your faces hovering inches apart. You did not want to suffer an eternity waiting to kiss, only for the moment to never come, but in that moment it appeared to be your destiny. He was leaned down slightly, and you were straining upwards, but there seemed to be a barrier between you two. The world was begging you to harness the courage to lean forward and close the gap, and as your noses brushed together, even the still-photograph of Stevie was pleading with you not to let cowardice win. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and your stomach was twisted in a knot that seemed to be suffocating you the longer you sat there.

He was so close, the scent of his cologne surrounding you once again, this time much more powerful than the last. You were angry that he wouldn’t make the move first, but appreciated his concern for your comfort. You’d fallen into the position so easily, as if it were natural for the two of you to be together in such a way. You could practically feel his lips on yours despite the distance still existing between you. Perhaps it was so easy to imagine because you wanted it so badly. He reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear before he cupped your cheek in his hand. The touch made your lungs burn, inherently causing you to forget how to breathe.

You had never felt so good. You had never felt so alive. You wondered, if his company felt so rewarding even after such a short period of time, what would months feel like with your heart and soul entangled in his. For once, the unknown was exciting rather than paralyzing. As gravity pulled you closer, you began to believe that you could live in the unknown with Danny until the end of time, and it would be inexplicably better than existing within the known without him by your side. He was so close, and it was hard not to jump. You wanted everything all at once, but savoring him seemed like the only option. His lips were nearly brushing against your own, and despite your earlier efforts at shoving the feelings away, you needed him to close the gap between you. You needed it like water, but you were so parched that you couldn’t speak the words nor go in search of it yourself.

You knew how foolish it was to leave your fate in the hands of another, but for once, not even your own psyche seemed to be able to ruin the moment for you.

part two is soon to be yours 🤍

TAGLIST: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @dont-go-home-without-me @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco

[italiantnea]

#0-3_haizaki_itsuya/ the adult way

prev: 0-2 // next: 0-4

“At this rate, we won’t be able to avoid this becoming a case…”

Of course, Haizaki Itsuya went to work as usual this morning. The janitor room had been tidied and not a single piece of trash was left on the floor. With the watering can on the work desk in hand, he was now ready to start work anytime. He was fully prepared.

“What should I do, I’ve really done it now…”

Haizaki sat down on the steel chair.

“No, this is no time to be sitting…”

He stood up straight away.

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it. I’ve gone and done it now. What do you mean, ‘I will do anything within my power’? Going all, ‘If you feel like it, please rely on me’. I can't believe I said that. Pretending to be all cool-like. That’s right, I just couldn't help but show off a little, huh? Even though that wasn't cool anyway. That’s a bad habit of mine. I declared that so confidently but couldn't get in contact with the section chief in the end…”

Haizaki paced back and forth around the janitor room. From under the work desk, Haizaki’s partner, the weasel-like zingai Olver stuck its head out.

“Man, should I just say it? Go, ‘I’d like to be reinstated into Special Cases’? Would that work out somehow…? Bow my head and go ‘Please, let me be reinstated’. Hmm. I wonder. Reinstated huh. Reinstated. Could I do it is the question. Working on the scene is out of the question; I’ve been branded as useless so I’ll probably be transferred to general affairs or something. General affairs!”

He set the watering can down on the work desk with a bang, and Olver retreated back under the desk.

“Aaah…!”

Haizaki tousled his hair with both hands.

“General affairs section, I’m not suited to that. Coordination and negotiation and stuff. The section chief transferred me there knowing that. It was to make me say ‘I quit’ on my own accord, wasn't it? In other words, I was basically half forced to quit my job. What could I possibly do in this state? Even though I have to do something. I have to protect those kids who have a future. What should I do? I’ve really done it now…”

Haizaki placed both hands on the desk and nodded. He nodded again and again, repeatedly muttering, ‘got it, I understand, I got it.’

“Whatever I do, can’t be helped. If this problem could be solved by worrying I would've solved it long ago. First comes work. I have work to do. That’s right. I’m a respectable salaried worker, so let’s get to work.”

He picked up the watering can once again. At that moment, the cellphone atop his desk started ringing. Haizaki jumped up with an “Owahh!” and clutched his chest.

“Do- d-d-d- don’t scare me like that. What do you want, ugh… What, you venting your anger now? That’s it huh, venting your anger at a cellphone, huh. A call…? Who is it, so early in the morning—”

Haizaki picked up the cellphone in place of the watering can. The number was displayed. It was a cellphone number. He didn't remember seeing it before. It was a number he didn't know. He picked up tentatively.

“...Yes, hello?”

“Ah, Haizaki-kun?”

It was a male voice, and not a young one.

“...Uh…yes…”

“Boku, boku*,” *boku meaning ‘I’

The voice was mocking, and without thinking Haizaki joined in on the bit.

“Bokuboku-san?”

“Huh?”

“That’s not right is it. Eh? Whom am I speaking to…?”

“This is Kudou. You know who I am?”

“Ch-chief…?!”

“Well, you’re in no place to be calling me chief. Not anymore, eh?”

That mocking way of speaking, as if playing the fool—it sure was that man all right.

Kudou.

Chief of management of the Special Cases Countermeasures Office in the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office.

Kudou Keiki.

And to Haizaki Itsuya, his former boss.

“I’ve heard all about it, Haizaki-kun~”

An image appeared in his mind; one of Kudou picking out earwax with his left pinky, a faint smile spreading across his long, horse-like face.

“You’ve properly put yourself to work in another job, haven't you?”

“...Ahh, well… yes. Thanks to your help…”

“Working at a middle school, was it? Ya know, I always thought you’d be a, ah you know? A host or something? I thought if you were switching you’d go into that line of work.”

“H-host… huh. No way, I’m not that young anymore…”

“What’re you saying now. If you say you’re not young, then what would that make me? That’s the thing about you, Haizaki-kun. You’ve got a nice attitude and a slick mouth but you’re surprisingly insensitive, huh?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“It’s just a joke. A joke! You try so hard to look cool but you’re weirdly serious at heart, aren’tcha?”

“Is that how you thought of me…”

“That you’re weirdly serious? It is. In a bad way.”

“A bad way…”

“Like I said, I’m joking! Humour’s important, you know. Don't you think so? Hm?”

Kudou was a Toudai graduate and a civil servant, but he was funny without putting on airs, and on top of that, he was aloof. He was not the kind of man to talk roughly to his juniors.

However, he was scary when he got mad. That had been the hottest rumour around. He was a master of behind-the-scenes maneuvers and shady dealings, and he was categorically unforgiving to anyone who intruded on his territory. Single, and uninterested in climbing the corporate ladder, which made him extra vicious by nature.  Those were the rumours he had heard.

An enigma of a man, shrouded in mystery. He was well-mannered and fair-spoken, but he gave off the impression that nothing he said was the truth. From the day he saw his face to the day he quit from Special Cases, Haizaki had never been good at dealing with Kudou.

“Um, Kudou—san. So uh… what did you need from me?”

“Ahh, right, right.”

He heard Kudou’s Nnhuhuh laugh for the first time in a while. Haizaki didn't deal well with that laughter either. Truthfully, it irritated him. Kudou was probably aware that he irritated others. He seemed to do it on purpose.

“What, you say. Of course, I’m not calling to apologize for neglecting our longstanding friendship. I don't exactly have that kind of free time on my hands. And neither do you, right? Your second shot at life. Putting your all into your work and all. You must be pretty busy yourself. Am I mistaken?”

“....About that, well…”

“If that’s the case, Haizaki-kun. Don’t be doing anything unnecessary.”

Abruptly, Kudou’s tone went cold. It was a strange, imperceptible change. Kudou probably still had a smile plastered on his face. However, Haizaki suddenly found it hard to breathe. It was like his eyeballs had been pierced with blades.

“Understood? What happened to her, it was a serious blow. Not just to you, but to us all, you see. You couldn't manage to recover. That can't be helped. I’m not blaming you whatsoever. But you managed to find new employment, and got your life back on track. I applaud you! I’m truly happy for you. Please, do continue to do your best. You have my full support. But you see, Haizaki-kun, could you refrain from sticking your nose in our line of work? It’s not something a good law abiding citizen has any business getting involved in. Of course, you must know that very well yourself.”

“...They’re middle school students.”

Good job talking back. Haizaki wanted to praise himself right then. Praising himself for this much—he found his own softness quite disgusting if he did say so himself. He was still wet behind the ears and surely too naive, but he didn't think he was wrong.

“They’re still just children. We adults have to protect th—”

“I’m saying that isn't your job, Haizaki-kun. Or what—”

Kudou pressed on.

“—do you wish to return to the position of the Otter?”

Haizaki licked his lips. Then he bit down on them.

Which one was this?

Was Kudou seriously proposing his reinstatement? Or was he just messing with him? And what about Haizaki himself? If it could protect the children, he wanted to return to Special Cases. Yes, he’d return. Did he have the resolve for that? Or did he think that was beyond his abilities?

“To be real with you, it’s the same everywhere, and complaining won't get you anywhere, but our budget is getting stretched quite thin. Even if we spend money like tap water, there’s no guarantee someone with the right aptitude will just show up.”

“Are you low on personnel?”

“It’s as busy as it was when you left. If you really insist on returning? Well, if you’re persistent enough, I won't say you’re out of consideration. For now, even if it’s just in the form of  an external ally, any help is somethin, you know?”

“...Please, could you give me a little…”

Those were the only words Haizaki could wring out. As he said those words, Haizaki felt disappointed in his own indecisiveness, but he couldn't bring himself to change his answer.

“...a little time to consider it?”

“Of course.”

From Kudou’s attitude, this was probably within his expectations. Haizaki Itsuya was not such a bold person as to say right then and there, ‘Please, let me go back!’ He’d seen right through him.

“Ah, right. I forgot to say the important thing. Regarding the series of incidents, we can't afford to sit idly by anymore, so we’ve decided to take measures.”

“Eh? Pardon? What do you mean by taking m—”

“As an adult, you wish to protect the children's futures. That’s right, you’re absolutely right. Ah, there’s the time. I’ve got a meeting to get to, so excuuuse me.”

“Wait, chief—”

“Aaaand that’s all.”

Kudou hung up, one-sidedly ending the conversation.

“Freakin-...messin-...with…me….!”

Haizaki shook his phone around with all his might. He wanted to slam it into the floor and smash it into a million pieces.

“It’s not the phone’s fault…”

He managed to hold himself back, and slowly lowered his right hand which gripped the phone.

“Anyway, if you break that, the expenses will be pretty high. The warranty is over, after all. Well, even if it was within the warranty period, you’d still have to pay repair fees huh, of course…”

Haizaki took a deep breath. He tried to calm himself, but couldn't stop the annoyance that came bubbling over.

“But man, that Chief Kudou sure gets on your nerves. He never lets anything throw him off pace. Does that guy ever lose his cool? In the end he's just saying whatever he wants, huh. Take measures, he said. Does that mean this has turned into a case now? What is—”

Someone knocked on the door of the janitor’s room. If they needed something from him, teachers and some students sometimes paid him a visit. Haizaki opened his mouth to respond, ‘Come in,’ but before that, the door flew open with great vigor.

“Eek—” 

Startled, Haizaki dropped his phone.

“Uooh!”

Flustered, Haizaki picked up his phone. The screen wasn't cracked. From what he could see, it wasn't visibly damaged. Relieved, he turned his gaze towards the door, where a young lady stood.

“...Huh?”

She wasn't in her twenties. She was in her teens. Early teens, at that. Was she a student in this school? No, he’d never seen that face before. And she wasn't in uniform anyway, she was in casual clothes. A t-shirt with the words ‘THA ZEN’ printed across the front. Not ‘THE ZEN’. ‘THA ZEN’.

Her hairstyle looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. Well, there was no sign she’d tried to style it, so it could hardly be called a hairstyle. She was wearing headphones. Her eyes, which seemed to be both looking at Haizaki and nothing in particular, seemed sleepy. Or rather, it seemed like she held him in contempt.

The girl stepped in the janitor’s room and closed the door, then removed her headphones and hung them around her neck.

“Gmornin.”

For a moment, Haizaki wasn't sure what the girl had said. Had she been trying to say ‘good morning?’ It would've been better if she raised her volume just a bit.

“Uh—Good… morning… to you— uh. Eh? Who—who might you be?”

The girl moved her lips and uttered something. …n..er…ent? He didn't understand. He didn't catch any of that. Please, just raise your voice a little. He couldn't exactly say that to someone he was meeting for the first time, so Haizaki cupped his hand behind his ear and listened again.

“And who are…?”

The girl rolled her eyes. No, that wasn't it. She looked up, only moving her eyeballs. At the same time, she sighed with a Haah.

He could almost hear her saying what a pain in the ass in her head. Something like ‘what a bother’, or ‘how annoying’. If you were too persistent with middle schoolers, those kinds of words usually came out. Haizaki often consoled himself by saying, well, they’re at their peak of cheekiness, but honestly, that hurt a little.

“Transfer student.”

This time her voice was quite loud. It was low, for a girl, and a bit husky; a voice with quite some character.

“Was pretty sudden, so I didn't have time to get a uniform though.”

“...Transfer student. Ahh, I see.”

Haizaki tilted his head. ‘I see’ my ass! This is the janitor’s room!

“Um, the staff room is—”

“You didn't hear?”

The transfer student pointed to the phone in Haizaki’s hand.

“From Chief Kudou.”

“No? I didn't… hear? …Chief? Kudou—”

Haizaki’s eyes widened.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-why do you know the Special Cases— the Management section’s Chief’s name…?!”

“You mean, why does a child know that?”

The transfer student walked towards the work desk. She swiped a finger over the surface of the desk quickly, as if checking if it was dirty. She sat down at the desk.

“Why do you think, old man?”

“Old…”

Surrounded by middle school students, he was often called an old man. Truth be told, in the eyes of middle schoolers, Haizaki was an old man. He was aware he was an old man. That being said, to be treated like one so straightforwardly was a little painful.

“...It can’t be, that you’re—related to Special Cases? Or? Something?”

“Special Cases this Special Cases that. I wonder if you can really just say that all willy nilly.”

The transfer student shrugged lightly.

“We usually call ourselves the Flower Shop or whatever, right?”

“That’s…right…”

Somehow he slipped into polite speech. Haizaki cleared his throat.

“You, but…you’re a middle school student…right?”

“Sweet fourteen.”

The transfer student snorted and let out a short laugh, devoid of humour.

“And you’re on duty at the Flower Shop?”

“...I…When I* was employed, children would never be sent on to the scene. Never mind on scene, even in general affairs or information processing, there wasn't a single minor…” *Haizaki switches from the rougher ‘ore’ to the more polite ‘watashi’

“They aren’t that short on hands. It’s just, on this kind of scene we ‘kids’, as you say, have an easier time moving around.”

“Moving—what are you planning on doing, you—”

“Monika.”

“...Eh?”

“Asahi Monika.”

The transfer student wrote five kanji characters in the air with her finger.

“Well, the surname’s just an alias, so it’s random.”

“Monika…san.”

“You’re calling me by my first name? Acting all close, huh?”

“S-sorry.”

“Well, it’s fine.”

“It’s fine…?”

As Haizaki whispered that, Asahi Monika’s gaze relaxed slightly. However, she regained her previous listless expression instantly.

“I can’t talk to you about the job, old man. You’re an outsider after all.”

“...Then, why…”

“Just a greeting, you know.”

Monika got up from the desk and walked towards the door.

Haizaki’s shoulders dropped. ‘That so?’ seemed like the only thing he could say. That said, as an adult, saying that to a middle schooler, even if she was related to Special Cases, was pretty pathetic.

“Ah, and—”

Monika turned around.

“Chief might’ve told you already, but just in case.”

“...What’s the deal?”

An adult saying ‘what’s the deal?’ to a middle school student. What could one make of that? It was almost as bad as saying ‘That so?’, wasn’t it. Haizaki felt utterly depressed.

“If you don't feel like helping out then don't get in the way, old man.”

It might’ve been his imagination, but he felt like she put extra emphasis on the words ‘old man’.

Monika left the janitor’s room.

“Old man’s getting in the way, huh…”

Haizaki placed his phone down. He didn't mean to, but he ended up slamming it onto the table. The screen was facing down, so he lifted it up to check, just in case. He saw a faint crack running down the screen.

“You’re kidding, right….?”

---

prev: 0-2 // next: 0-4

[teacupfullofstars]

Pouring out my writing process and tropes thoughts.

Hands of God, a FNAF movie based AU, is about William Afton making the odd decision of saving a woman's life. As she trains to be a Dr, they become lovers and partners in crime. The story gets its name from the metaphor of their relationship. They are the hands of God, one to take life and one to give. Though they both come to do both of those things.

Writing my FNAF AU is so odd because I have two main characters but no protagonist, really. Obviously, we all know Will's deal he's not a good man. So I matched him with someone who is also not okay. Basically, I usually write a main OC who is quite good, but this time, I'm in new territory with Jane having an insane moral compass. She starts dating Will, knowing he's an active serial killer, eventually marring him. She lies to cover for William's crimes straight up gaslights people for him. She specifically states when she's in med school that she she wants to be a trauma surgeon not to save people but because she's fascinated with how much damage can happen to the human body and it still lives and more importantly how to put it back together. (Due to past trauma more on that later). She eventually straight kills some people to protect Will and their family. If he turns up with blood on him, it turns her on. She's basically the biggest freak I've ever written, and I'm pouring all my impulsive and dirty thoughts into her.

That being said, this is a consensual, age appropriate relationship that does not relish in abuse. Nor is this a Will abusing his family fic I put that out there cause people think that "ruins" Will. But personally, I think loves his family but will destroy anyone else, Will is the best. Jane and William are horrible people, but they adore each other and their children and treat each other will.

Writing is happening, but I have a habit of being slow. Tumblr will be sort of a diary of my WIP until I am able to post.

I suspect my audience will be small, but I really feel like I need to put this story out.

Enjoy the ride, I guess lol.

[sleepy-achilles]

Aba! Taker drunk and horny for Shawn. Tell me this isn’t a perfect scenario (especially for Shawn)

I'm just saying, if yall are looking for smut I am not the man. I promise I'm practicing writing it but it's not there yet. But I can do this.

Edit- I started writing this around 9ish. It's currently 1am. I completely lost track of what the original ask is and I'm sorry for that. Not even finished yet either.

Hbtaker- Gin & Lust

------------------------------------------------------------------

The hotel bar was filled with wrestlers, old and young, new and returning. Goldust was actually quite comfortable with it. It was nice to see the youngsters finally relaxed. It was also nice to see people getting along. Goldust was thinking of invited so-

"Has he always been so fucking hot?" Takers voice cuts through his thoughts. Goldust chokes on his drink and kane stares at his brother in confusion. Goldust slowly looks at the man. He knows takers latest changes brought the man some trouble, one of them basically him going through puberty again. The man was human. He can get drunk, not fuck for hours, you know, real human limitations.

Shawn nibbles on his bottom lip. He's been trying to cut back on biting his nails, so he developed another bad habit. "You good?" Kevin asks quietly. "If its the drink we can leave-" "no. Is um..is taker still looking?" Shawn asks quietly. Kevin looks, making it look like he's scanning the whole room to avoid questions. "Yeah, why is it making you uncomfortable?" Kevin asks going to move. Shawn grabs his wrist causing Kevin to look at him. That's when he sees the blush. "Oh.." Kevin mutters. He suddenly smiles. "You still have a crush on the deadman, i get it" Kevin chuckles. "Kevin!" Shawn protests turning his face away. "Awe the boy toy is all shy" Kevin teases. "Whats going on?" Scott asks as he walks over. "Takers practically eye fucking Shawn and shawn likes it" Kevin explains in a sing-song voice. Scott chuckles as shawn hits kevins arm. "Just go over to him" Scott tells him. "Its not that easy. He's with goldust." Shawn whispers. Scott looks at kevin confused. "He told goldust he's gone straight." Kevin explains. "Eh goldust would be jealous, but he'd definitely understand" Scott shrugs.

Goldust then looks towards where the man is looking. "I know your experiencing a lot right now but you better not be on about ric fucking flair" goldust practically gags. Kane winces. "Fuck no, him" Taker snaps. Goldust and kane watch as ric moves to reveal Shawn, smiling bright and wide. "Oh Shawn?" Goldust asks. "Please he's always been hot" goldust huffs. Kane grunts in agreement causing taker to glance at him. "But any chance you had of having a one night stand or picking him up for a quick fuck died with his demons after wrestlemania 12" goldust tells him. "How do you know?" Taker asks. "Because I tried hooking up with him when he came back and he, very politely may I add, told me he's not like that anymore" goldust tells him. Taker tilts his head slightly and watches Shawn. "I reckon I could." Taker mutters. "Who listens to goldust anymore? What do I know?" Goldust huffs leaning back.

Taker takes in the sight of tan skin peaking out from his unbuttoned shirt, those killer black jeans hugging his ass perfectly and whilst part of taker wished Shawn had his long golden locks still, he still found the short hair attractive. He could definitely still pull at it or just hold it.

"Will you just go over to him, I can't deal with this anymore" goldust groans into his hands. "You said he's not like that anymore" Taker shrugs before sipping his beer. "Yes but maybe he'd like to know the 100 different ways you'd fuck him over vinces desk, because I know your brother doesn't and right now? I do not" goldust snaps. Taker chuckles deeply. "I don't even think I have too" Taker states. Goldust looks up as Scott and Kevin have shoved shawn between them and began walking over, clearly mid conversation. "Hey guys" Kevin smiled squeezing shawns shoulder. "Whats up?" Goldust asks. "Nothin much, just didn't want to leave shawn on his own, I've gotta head to the bar and Scotts gotta rescue kid from whatever trouble he's got into" Kevin explains. "Wanna help kane?" Scott asks knowing the little relationship between the two. Kane nods and stands. "Well I want another drink, I'll come with you" goldust states as Scott and kane walk off. "Sure thing" Kevin nods as goldust stands. "Get me another" Taker yawns. "I think you've had enough" goldust scolds. "You know another thing I could do?" Taker smirks. "Samething again? Yeah? Perfect, be back soon. Cmon kevin, I need a gin and tonic." goldust rushes away dragging Kevin behind him.

Shawn stands infront of taker, completely confused. "So, you glad to be back?" Taker asks, resting his bottle against his inner thigh. Shawn doesn't stop his gaze moving to takers spread legs. "Dont make small talk, we both know that's not what your thinking." Shawn tells him. Taker chuckles. "Doesn't mean I don't care how you feel" Taker shrugs. "Goldust told you what I said and now what? Your trying to trick me into some kind of false commitment so you can get your dick wet?" Shawn asks crossing his arms.

Taker hums as he examines Shawn. "So fiesty still. Mm no baby boy, I would not let you go, infact I used to get so angry at the thought of others, especially hart, having their hands over you when I couldn't." Taker informs him. Shawn stares at him. Taker chuckles slightly. "What were you and goldust talking about?" Shawn asks crossing his arms. "The different ways I'd fuck you over vinces desk" Taker answers as if it's a pretty normal thing to say. Shawn bites his lower lip as his face heats up. "Yeah?" Shawn asks quietly. "Yeah..you like the idea of that?" Taker asks tilting his head to the side.

Shawn can't lie. He does. Shawn tilts his head back to chuckle. "Oh what am I doing?" Shawn asks himself bringing his hands up to his face. Taker smirks and raises his hand to shawns hip. Shawn looks at taker. "Tell me you feel nothing for me boy toy and ill drop it" Taker murmurs. Shawn places his hand on takers. "I'd be stupid to say that" Shawn admits. He glances at the beer in takers hand. Then thinks back to goldust telling him he's had enough. "Fuck" Shawn whispers pulling back. Taker stares at him confused. "What? What's wrong?" Taker asks. "Your drunk. This doesn't even matter. I'm so stupid" Shawn whispers holding his head. Taker places the bottle on kanes chair, moving and grabbing shawns hips and pulling him into his lap.

Shawn pouts at the man. "Taker.." "You started training with Jose at age 19. You and marty started wrestling in AWA at 20. Shall I go on?" Taker asks. Shawn stares at him dumbfounded. "You-" taker gets cut off by a kiss from the boy toy. "I get it. I understand" Shawn whispers after pulling back. Taker smirks, moving his hands too shawns back. Shawn feels sudden nerves. Its been atleast five years since he got laid, he has the right to be nervous especially when big evil, the undertaker, has his hands on him.

"Beautiful" Taker mutters pulling Shawn closer. Shawn knows he probably bright red, he can feel his skin heating. Taker leans down and places a kiss on shawns neck. Shawn bites his lip and tilts his head slightly as the bigger man kisses down his neck, nibbling slightly. "T-taker" he sighs. "Mmm, you staying with Kevin?" Taker asks moving his hand to the back of shawns jeans. "Yeah" Shawn whispers leaning back into the bigger man's touch. "Good thing my rooms free." Taker mutters. Shawn let's out a huff as he opens his eyes. "If we make it that far" Shawn tells him. "You have a point...might just have you in the elevator..or right here" Taker smirks looking down at the blonde.

Shawn gasps and pulls back. "Taker! The others will be back-" "oh please, they ain't coming back anytime soon at all baby boy" Taker chuckles. Shawn melts. "Fuck" he whispers. Takers eyes are soft with a sharp hint of lust in them as shawn stares into them. "Been that long huh baby?" Taker asks softly. Shawn just nods and moves closer. Shawn raises himself slightly, pressing his body against takers and cupping takers head in his hands, tilting the bigger man's head back. Taker, buzzed off alcohol and lust and no longer giving a shit, slips one hand up the back of shawns shirt and one down to grope his behind.

A little sigh leaves shawns lips as the big warm hand scratches at his back. "I've dreamt about this day" Shawn admits quietly as he pushes strands of orange hair back. "Mmm" Taker hums as he kisses shawns sternum. Shawn brings a hand up to his mouth the moment taker bites the tan skin. Taker smirks as he feels the muffled moan from the blonde. Shawn moves his free hand to the base of takers skull, his fingers brushing the short hairs as he clenches them. "Bet I could take you right here. Issue is we'd get caught wouldn't we? Wouldn't be able to keep the noise down" Taker starts again. Shawn looks down at him as Taker lifts his head. "Taker" he whines as he drops his hand. Taker smirks, moving his hand down shawns back, brushing over his spine. "What? You like the idea of that? Or is that embarrassing? The idea your friends could walk over and see you like that. The idea that anyone we work with can come back over and see you like that" Taker teases, loving the look of blush on shawns face.

He slips his hand into the back of shawns jeans, he doesn't touch or anything, just rests his hand there. Shawn looks at him with a pout. "Goldust told me you were horny like a teenager. Didn't think that'd make you a massive tease" shawn complains, dropping his head down to rest his against takers. Taker let's out a deep chuckle and adjusts his arms to wrap around the leaner body, giving it a slightly squeeze. "Well, when you've got the boy toy too yourself, it'd be foolish to not rile him up a little" Taker smirks. "Meanie" Shawn mutters moving his face to takers neck, letting his body relax in the bigger man's arms.

Taker glances over shawns shoulder and smirks. Flair had clearly came back to find Shawn and is not impressed by what he sees. Taker doesn't like the look in the mans eyes but instead of saying something he chooses to glare at him. What idiot would move when Shawn michaels is kissing and biting at your neck?

"What floor are you on?" Shawn asks quietly as he nuzzles takers neck. Taker let's out a small sigh. "Third floor" taker answers. "Mmm" Shawn hums before kissing takers neck again. Taker leans back causing the blonde to stop, he adjusts his hold on the mans behind and squeezes. "We should head out. I need to taste you. I need to hear you screaming my name" taker growls. Shawn let's out a breathless chuckle. "Ye-yeah we should" Shawn nods. Taker smirks and pulls Shawn into another kiss. "You gonna walk boy toy or shall I show you how strong I really am?" Taker smirks. "With the amount you've drank? I don't think I'll take the risk" Shawn jokes. Taker rolls his eyes. "Goldust is dramatic. Whatever I did drank has worn off by now." Taker states. "Its the lust drunk instead." Shawn states.

"Your officially goldusts favourite drink" Shawn teases. "Oh yeah?" Taker asks moving his hands to grasp shawns bare hips. "Gin and lust" Shawn smirks. Taker shakes his head. "We need to get going now before I leave you here" Taker lies. "You wouldn't. Not with how hard you were eye fucking me earlier." Shawn scoffs. "Wait till you feel how hard I'll be actually fucking you" Taker smirks. Shawn shakes his head and stands. "And I'm the cringey one? Cmon big guy" Shawn chuckles holding his hand out.

Shawn smiles as the bigger hand slots against his. The bigger fingers wrap around his wrist. "Yeah it's definitely the booze. And the horniness" Taker chuckles. "Well I can atleast solve one of those" Shawn states. "You sure can" Taker smirks slapping shawns ass. Shawn raises an eyebrow at him before pulling him towards the door.

"Finally" Kevin huffs before sipping his beer. "We all knew it'd happen. Just wish it didn't take nearly 7 years for it to happen" goldust scoffs. "Please say they aren't shacking up in our room" Scott groans as a drunk kid leans against him. "What floor is your room?" Goldust asks. "Fifth" "Nah your good, takers room is on the third floor." Goldust states. Kane nods at goldust. The group sit in silence for a bit "Do you still share with taker?" Kevin asks. Kanes eyes widen and he groans, tipping his head back. "Got space in my room buddy." Goldust tells the poor guy. Kane muffles a thanks. "Bet he never shared that info with shawn" Kevin chuckles. "Cute and all, but can we all remember the look on flairs face? That shit was hilarious! I can only imagine what sin he witnessed to have him clutching his perals like that!" Scott laughs. The group all break out into laughter.

The whole situation was stupid. Two men who couldn't admit their feelings, traumatised friends and scarred homophobes.

------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTES

It's nearly 2am. Why this took me so long? I don't know. Is it on target? I don't know. I'm sorry if this isn't what you pictured. I got distracted and went with it. Feel free to just straight up tell me you pictured something else and I'll gladly rewrite it. (Well write another one. No I have not proof read this. Fight me)

[getvalentined]

Not trying to be a bother here, but I was wondering a few things about your post on the FS crew.

Do we know for certain Glenn only started gambling when his grandma went to the hospital? There's a line in the game that to me implied that it was a habit he actually learned from her.

Where was the info that Lucia trained him? Been trying to find that since last night honestly but maybe I'm just blind lmao. I know that they were cadets at the same time but I want to know if its true she trained him somehow.

Where did we learn they weren't actually friends? Glenn mentioned being able to acquire them because of the rumor of interpersonal relationships being prioritized and Matt mentioning that camaraderie is important for the mission implying at they all at least trust and are somewhat friends with each other.

What part was posturing? I didn't pick up on any of that honestly. Nor do I see why a trio that has known each other for roughly 4 years would need to do so (Original FS trailers show them meeting in 1998). But I could have easily missed things honestly.

Did they have something to do with Sephiroth being called in?? I don't remember them sending out the distress signal. I thought that was a call Shinra made all on its own since he had new mission orders.

Sorry I'm not trying to be a pain I just genuinely feel like I might've missed those somewhere or that I was bad at picking up any hints the game might've dropped. I can be pretty rough with missing that info and haven't found anyone else that's talked about them with this much detail yet.

I mean, my biggest issues with these characters are still the acceptance of genocide, suggested child murder, and excitedly declared intention to kill a dog, but I'll break the rest of it down because a lot of it is probably pretty easy to miss if you're not already feeling critical of the cast. (Hopefully those issues get called out somehow eventually, but they haven't yet, so I'd have a bad taste in my mouth over the characters just from that.)

Putting the explanation under the cut!

This isn't stated directly, because very little of this is—but Glenn's grandmother is already in the hospital, so apparently there was no hesitation to put her in there, and any initial costs were apparently covered. There's no mention of paying other bills for rent or anything else, so those were paid prior to her being hospitalized, but Glenn confirms that it's the gambling that used up any money he might have had. This isn't solid, but the timeline seemed pretty suspicious. (Glenn has a problem and needs to talk to someone about it.)

Glenn calls Lucia senpai! Further, I think Lucia is confirmed to have been team lead previously in EC? Either way, in the original battle royale she was the commanding officer, and is the one that handled training in the game's tutorial. She trained a lot of people, not just Glenn and Matt! (If you played the battle royale, she trained you too!)

I don't think they hate each other, but they're not really friends. We can go all the way back to the opening cutscene where Glenn threatens Matt with actual violence, and Matt's response is basically "Bet?" Add on Glenn using a nickname Matt hates over and over, and Matt stating repeatedly that he goes along with Glenn because he knows he has good intuition—not because he actually likes being around him or because he trusts him otherwise. This isn't a remotely friendly dynamic. When Glenn explains why he picked them for the mission, Lucia's response is to express frustration that Shinra now thinks she's his friend. Matt also expresses some confusion. Glenn says that he trusts them because they were in training together. When Sephiroth takes command, Matt and Lucia are 100% on board with cockblocking Glenn and straight up just ignore him when he talks shit, if not tell him to stop it altogether. They're friendly acquaintances, but they're clearly not as close as Glenn keeps implying.

Matt subtly suggested Glenn straight up kill Rosen immediately after meeting him. Lucia and Glenn both refer to Rhadorans as monsters. And yet (and yet!) when they come upon Sephiroth's massacre, they immediately start questioning his methods, Matt starts coming up with some excuse to have left them alive—this is a stark contrast to how they've behaved up until this point, a moment when everyone drops the bullshit and admits that this is wrong and they know it's wrong and they're just trying to be too cool to care, but they do care. This is the definition of posturing.

I didn't say they called Sephiroth in? What I said was reiterating Sephiroth's tirade/breakdown, when he explains that the way they operate is the reason that SOLDIERs like him have to exist in the first place. Because operatives like them posture and pretend, operatives like Sephiroth have to do the actual dirty work. Because the adults can't do what they're supposed to (see again: Sephiroth's breakdown) Sephiroth has to be the one to do the war crimes.

Hope this clears things up! I want to reiterate that in spite of all this, I do have hope for this cast and I am genuinely enjoying the story at this point. The first three chapters were a garbage experience, but I honestly loved the narrative and gameplay shift in Chapters 4 and 5.

[arcxnumvitae]

RULES: repost, don’t reblog. just pick a muse of yours and fill it out.

MUSE: Mhoirbheinn

— basics

▸ is your muse tall/short/average?  6'0! Tol.

▸ are they okay with their height?  He's fine with being, what I've been told, a giant. Makes it easier to intimidate people, and isn't that what's most important?

▸ what’s their hair like? (I reserve the right to come back and edit this if I end up deciding to go a different direction for his unglamoured true form. As for now...) Long, straight and black, and it nearly touches the floor. He actually likes having his hair longer and can be a bit prideful about its appearance. He'll normally have some sort of ornamentation in it or styled some way, be it some sort of elaborate ponytail, braids set into it, a twisted back bun, and so on. He never appears before anyone else with it plain and unstyled, Balmoral being the single exception. He'll be rather annoyed if he has to show up before someone with it undone.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair/with their grooming? Longer than average, absolutely. He is a busy man though with many duties to see to, so he won't spend hours in front of the mirror exactly. But he is very particular about his looks so he likes to make sure that every aspect of his appearance is just right before he leaves his rooms.

▸ does your muse care about their appearance? Well I kind of answered this above, but yeah. He wants to look his best and won't let most people see him in a state that is anything less than perfect. He's standing right next to the king for most of the day, he has to look his best as such a prominent figure.

▸ does your muse care about what others think about them? Not really. His position isn't an elected one and he's not here to win the hearts and minds of the people. He's here to do whatever work needs to be done to help run the kingdom and help keep Balmoral on the throne. Sometimes that means getting his hands dirty, and sometimes that means not being a peach to other officials or even the other generals. Such is his life, he doesn't care anyways.

— preferences

▸ indoors or outdoors? Indoors ▸ rain or sunshine? Rain ▸ forest or beach? Forest ▸ precious metals or gems? Gems ▸ flowers or perfumes? Flowers ▸ personality or appearance? Personality ▸ being alone or being in a crowd? Being alone ▸ order or anarchy? Anarchy ▸ painful truths or white lies? Painful truth ▸ science or magic? Science  ▸ peace or conflict? Conflict ▸ night or day? Night ▸ dusk or dawn? Dusk ▸ warmth or cold? Cold ▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends? A few close friends ▸ reading or playing a game? Reading

— questionnaire

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits? He’s very fond of threatening people and looking scary. He also, as said above, really doesn't care what people think of him, so that grants him a certain freedom to wile out to his heart's content in some cases. He probably shouldn't be allowed to wile out. He just likes instigating sometimes! Plus, he has a real violent streak and a violent temper when pushed to it. 

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them? how has it affected them? Dang, I want to keep some bits of his backstory a surprise! I'll just say that it was his mom, and that it was the start to the beginning of a new life for him, for better or worse.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has? Not many, and also pretty exclusively with his mom. In a twisted way. 

▸ is it easy for your muse to kill? NIt might be harder for him not to kill. He has no qualms about it and doesn't hesitate in the slightest when it comes to cutting someone down. As evidenced by the noble family that he viciously slaughtered back when he was the fae equivalent of a teen. He can be pretty bloodthirsty and savage.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down? Hm, how topical. It all depends, I think. It's hard to get him to a point of a genuine breakdown because he has almost no one and nothing left that he cares about in the world, and he never had many to begin with. Even the other generals he isn't particularly close with. I guess if he were to break down, eh, he'd probably get murderous. Unsurprising. He's the type to like to destroy everything in his anger, a real "burn the entire world to the ground" type.

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life? New drinking game: take a shot every time I mention Balmoral in relation to Mhoirbheinn. But it's true, Balmoral is the only person he cares for in the world left, and he had entered Mhoirbheinn's life during a particularly bleak and hopeless time too. He's currently the only person Mhoirbheinn trusts implicitly, and he's not a very trusting person at all so it's a very exclusive club. Could it grow one day? Never say never, I guess, because muses are always capable of growing and surprising me. 

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love? Only has eyes for his lover, and completely devoted to them. His love is fierce and deep and he would go to hell and back for them without a second thought. I'm talking for real a ride or die. His generally cool and callous attitude softens, and he's actually capable of making a joke here or there to his lover.

[ultrxlight]

school tips

watch study with me videos they motivate me to study for long periods and help me practice getting into the flow state , def : Flow is a state of mind that occurs when a person is totally immersed in an activity

practice hella amount of past papers ( you get used to the exam questions style + its a better way to memorize stuff )

ngl you gotta force yourself to study , the hardest part is starting after that everything just flows

make it a personality trait , make it a part of your identity , this is mentioned in the book atomic habits , when something becomes a personality trait you work much harder to maintain it , i like to visualize and identify myself as someone who studies for long periods and has a clean girl aesthetic ( clear skin , desired body , soft hair ) and is super smart and nice

watch study tips on youtube, what better way to motivate yourself rather than watch other people study and give you advice , it gets you in the mood yknow

mentally :

having a clear head and a good mental health will help you study better

idk this helped me but if you believe in god , get closer to your religion , as a muslim , it made me feel so much better , by reading quran , praying my prayers and making dua, getting closer to my religion made me so much more spiritual and in peace

start a blog(like me) / write on your notes app/ journal / film yourself and post on your youtube channel privately , do it for an hour or two straight to clear out your head and keep your though organized

organized room = organized head , clean your room everyday bcz its a reflection of whats inside of you

do guided meditation i do a guided meditation after each prayer , doing my prayers and doing meditation afterwards helps me be spiritual

sleep early and wake up at 5 am everyday

beauty :

you should a morning and night skincare routine which includes a good face wash and a good moisturizer

apply castor oil to your lashes everynight , i basically got castor oil from a pharmacy and put it in an empty mascara bottle that i cleaned up and i put it every night on my lashes before i sleep

[indomitus-ferox]

headcanons

Artemis-B312

tagged by: @fasciinating​ ( you said “you”, generalized ;) ) no pressure tags: @deficd​ ( for jarrok! ), @zoralux​, @chainxdancer​, @the-honorable-spartan​​, @kedvesorias​​ 

basics—

▸is your muse tall/short/average?: for a human being? she’s tall. for a Spartan, however? average. discounting the Spartan-IIs, who are all of them unnaturally tall, a great many Spartan-IIIs & Spartan-IVs stand at roughly her height.

▸are they okay with their height?: sure. why would she have a problem with it?   

▸what’s their hair like?: thick, kept down to her shoulder blades ( or sometimes hacked to sit on her shoulders ). copper red, slightly wavy. often kept tied back in a braid, bun, plait, or ponytail, or loose.

▸do they spend a lot of time on their hair/grooming?: not particularly. she doesn’t have a lot of time for it, and it’s not high on her priorities list.

▸does your muse care about their appearance/what others think?: not very often, no. there are times where she feels uncomfortable with being stared at, but she knows it comes in hand with who she is. what does bother her more than she might let on are the scars on the left side of her face; that specific set she absolutely refuses to speak freely about, even to her fellow Spartans. it comes from a cause of great shame and pain, for her.

preferences—

▸indoors or outdoors: both

▸rain or sunshine: sunshine

▸forest or beach: both   

▸precious metals or gems: neither? such things tend to be beneath her scope of notice, let alone interest

▸flowers or perfumes: flowers. she enjoys nature

▸personality or appearance: personality. appearance is a nice bonus

▸being alone or in a crowd: being alone. crowds make her uncomfortable

▸order or anarchy: order

▸painful truths or white lies: much rather painful truths. she’s a shit liar, on her end, and due to the fact that over half of her life, her existence has been a lie... well, she’d rather others tell her the truth straight up

▸science or magic: science. something she knows and trusts

▸peace or conflict: both. she’s a soldier, through and through. can’t function without conflict; can’t survive without peace.

▸night or day: night. she can meld with the shadows and become one with the dark. seeing in pitch blackness is little issue for her enhanced eyesight ( if she were lacking eye-assisting technology of any kind )

▸dusk or dawn: both

▸warmth or cold: warmth

▸many acquaintances or a few close friends: a few close friends

▸reading or playing a game: Wargames. it’s training, sure, but can devolve into games and shenanigans. also enjoys a good game of Grifball or CTF.

questionnaire—

▸what are some of your muse’s bad habits?: that’s a loaded question. what defines a “bad habit” for a Spartan, a career soldier? her anger could be stated to be a bad habit, because it can be dangerous. bad habits in a more conventional sense, rather than abstract / emotional? she doesn’t really have any, I don’t think. 

▸has your muse lost anyone close to them? how has it affected them?: many people, the members of noble team being a prime & notable example. she thought she could save them, protect them, in any way possible— but the odds were overwhelming even for Spartans, and they went out one by one. the guilt sunk its claws deep into Artemis, and remains there ever since. it drives her to do better, to be faster, to be stronger, to look after those around her, no matter the cost to herself.

▸what are some fond memories your muse has?: nothing comes to mind in particular for her. she’s had an exceptionally rough life, even for a Spartan, and her memories can be scattered, fleeting on the wind.

▸is it easy for your muse to kill?: yes. almost too easy, sometimes— like breathing, oh-so-natural. she kills, and she’s damned good at it. that’s not to say she doesn’t have moments of questioning who or why she’s killing someone in particular, but... when she’s told to kill, it’s very unlikely that she’ll leave her target alive.

▸is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life?: yes. she’s slow, wary, cautious, but eventually, yes.

▸what’s your muse like when they’re in love?: too difficult to say for certain, other than passionate, protective, and loyal; the latter two, she is to her close friends, but even moreso to the being she would come to consider the partner she’s in love with. it’s on a deeper, more intrinsic and unexplainable level.

[scummy-writes]

Hello there I hope so so much to not bother you But I am absolutely in love with the way you write Isaac, it so so real like straight out from the canong and this lead me to my question, sinceI have never written him beofr ebut would like to I wanted to ask do you have any advice on how to learn to write him ? I have also played his main route and some events with him but I find it so hard to write him, even though I would like to include him.

Thank you so much, please do not rush take care Have a wonderful day :)

Haha, messages don't bother me, so please don't worry!

You're very kind to say this! It's kind of made my morning to hear that you enjoy how I write Isaac. Thank you!

I don't mind trying to give tips, but if you have specific questions about anything you struggle with, as in like maybe you have a hard time picturing how he would act when he tries to show kindness or smth, please feel free to send another message in! Sometimes having a specific question helps me narrow down what to say, since I get rambly.

(And anyone else is free to ask too!)

This is probably going to be long, because I go on tangents and jump from topic to topic on accident sometimes, so I am preemptively putting a cut here to prevent flooding dashboards.

So! With trying to write a character, I think on some level you need to try to understand the character/character design. Not like completely, 100%, understanding them, but just on a basic level trying to understand why they act as they do, or trying to understand why the writers may have written x character saying they dislike someone and digging into that, because that is typically how I learn to attempt writing characters.

This is because I have habits of making notes a lot when I'm in the early stages of enjoying a game or character. I'm not saying that you have to take notes in order to write characters in a certain way at all, but in regards to trying to give tips, these were things I believe I tried to make note of that could be helpful:

-> Certain words that I noticed that he mainly used more than the other characters, and the context for them. Like, for example, when he was super flustered at realizing he had been holding Mc's hand while he was sick, he said 'poppycock!' And I have not seen him use it since! Or from what I remember, so I noted that as one of the exclamation words he may use when he's super flustered.

(I dont seem to follow this much nowadays, but its helpful for learning a character's voice!)

-> I'm pretty sure I tried to note when Isaac's stutter would appear and when it wouldn't. Not like every time it happens, but taking notes that usually if he is flustered with something new to him (ie, trying to ask Mc on a date for the first time, or explaining his feelings), he stutters. If I noticed other times he stuttered when it wasn't towards expressing his emotions for first times (or still getting used to doing so), I would take note of things like that.

-> As much as Isaac brushes off the idea that the mansion residents are his friends, saying things like how he doesn't control how they think of him (not a verbatim line), but firmly insists that no one there is his friend, he does like the other residents.

This is shown in that one bloodlust event, where the wine they had ended up sparking some sort of bloodlust soon after drinking it, and Arthur and Vincent end up wanting to drink Mc's blood because it fuckin hurts being that thirsty. At the end of it, there is character progression where its stated, i think by Mc, that Isaac does view Vincent and Arthur as friends. Even if he may not realize it himself! You can see it in his route too, that as much as he bickers with Arthur and Dazai, and as much as they tease him, he still listens to the advice they give. He still consults with them in later events when he runs into some issues. He might not be close to the other residents, but I don't believe it's from not respecting them or not liking them, I think it's just like Napoleon states- he's awkward in his own skin.

My personal viewpoint is that he doesn't want to bother others, or force them to interact with them much if he's unsure of their opinion on him. I think that he is extremely cautious due to how the events in his og life fucked him up, and he doesn't want to risk being betrayed like that again.

From my view, with how he was treated in this og life (everyone treating him as if he was odd/weird for his skills, then going to school to be a subsizar and being treated poorly, then finally being a teacher and being happy- but no one wanting to take his classes because of how different he was, then to those he trusted betraying and stealing his work, and seemingly being a hard recluse after that) impacts him a lot, unsurprisingly, in his second life. It explains why he tells mc he doesn't understand people, it explains why he keeps to himself a lot, because he's been hurt and he's still trying to heal from that.

It's been mentioned in some route, god knows which one, that the mansion residents had their own habits before Sebas came along, and from Isaac's first day story, Sebas was hired shortly after Isaac came to the mansion I believe (Comte alludes to needing to hire a butler). Isaac's been at the mansion for five years before Mc turns up, and is surprised to realize it's been five years when he thought it had been a lot shorter than that. I think there is implications (or me imagining the implications) that he kept to himself for most of it, and so I believe that is why he may seem stiff with some residents in comparison to others. I imagine he's still trying to figure out how to interact with them.

-> As much of a recluse he is, he seems to also try hard not to bother other people. This one may be a bit obvious, but I imagine that due to how he explained what it was like when he was a subsizar, he tries to make things easier for Sebas in regards to him, and later on Mc. This is shown from how he helps around with chores at times, but also when he tries to tell Mc that she doesn't need to focus too hard on the type of sandwiches she makes him, as it can take time away from her day and add more stress. I think depending on the situation, he also is like this towards other characters.

-> Isaac is shy, but he's not going to be shy towards Mc through their whole relationship. He may still faulter at times when Mc surprises him in some way, or when he's trying something new with Mc, but he won't always be stuttering or having trouble asking what he wants.

This is something that is easier to see now towards some newer events than other events, as the event writers seem to try and show that over time, the relationship between Mc and the suitor isn't always in the very beginning stages for that event. I'm not going to blunty say "play every event Isaac is in to write him!!!" because that is very difficult and not fun with how difficult events can be. I'm saying that as an Isaac simp, this is stuff I've noticed and took note on, and it's good to just be aware that characters change as their relationship progresses.

From what I've seen, Isaac is more confident as the relationship progresses. He's not acting like Arthur, but it's clear he's no longer afraid to show any sort of affection towards Mc. He's a bit more open, but some events have targeted the fact that he wants to be reliable to Mc, to the point where he has trouble opening up about some problems he's having. I think, currently, some events still touch on this and its not a problem thats been 100% resolved. And it might not be! Sometimes characters have relationship centered flaws to where they will continously struggle with certain things. Like Isaac may have times where it is easy for him to rely on Mc a bit more, but in some cases he might fall back on old habits and not want to bother her too much.

But he gains his confidence with Mc over time. He finally gets to learn more about human relationships, and explore emotions he hasn't been able to before. This is all new to him, so he may still fumble or stutter when something unpredicted happens, but he's going to be relaxed and comfortable with Mc in most situations if theyre already together.

.

And uh... I am stopping here because I realized that I am just dissecting Isaac like a crazy person, and if I don't stop this will be 100 pages long. Like I had 7 paragraphs I had to delete, haha!

I personally have some issues responding to questions and going on tangents and getting away from the topic at hand, so if you (or anyone else reading this) have specific questions on why I write Isaac like I do in so and so fic, or what made me write him like x, please ask away!

But thank you for the kind words! You're always very sweet. I hope this helps at least a little? I'm sorry for all the rambling!

[vapehk1]

Exploring Loon Vapes: Is It Worth the Hype?

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[21dayproject]

June 19 2023, pre day 1

ok, this is going to be one long post, so you'll have to soldier through this one.

so, lets begin with introductions! hi, im an average 15 year old indian girl.

my time during the lockdown was spent in a vortex of self hate, self doubt and bouts of depression and sometimes suicidal thoughts. but im indian, we dont do communication. i decided to fix my mental state myself, and to do that i had to fix me. from scratch. total reboot.

so in the ninth grade, when the lockdown ended and school began, i started implementing tiny changes in my routine and lifestyle that really helped me out.

for one, i started working out, eating healthy and eating in proper quantities, i lost 6 kilograms. this curbed half the insecurities i had and fixed half my problem and also acted as a pretty good distraction. i went from chubby to the tall and thin bodytype.

secondly, socialising and reverse socialising. i made a group of amazing friends, who are basically my platonic soulmates at this point, but i also cut people off. because a part of my self doubt and negativity came from people who were overly competitive and discouraging and basically drained my energy. so i invested my energy in people who would give me back positivity and happiness.

thirdly, academics. i worked really hard figuring out a schedule which changed me from a student with a mix of A's and B's to a straight A student.

soon, my suicidal thoughts disappeared, i was more confident and happy, i talked a lot more, i felt more at peace.

So. my thesis was that most of my negative headspace was caused by staying alone for too long, doing nothing and just being lazy and unproductive, and i may offend A LOT of people with this statement, but i truly believe depression is just a self induced state of mind and it is self curable and doesnt need to be treated with medication.

so if i managed to get my life back on track i should be able to upgrade too. now that i cured myself, i should work on my goals and start working towards my future. because, i know, if i get back to being comfortable with no aims or aspirations, ill be back to square one. so, i sat down and physically wrote down what i want to achieve in the next 5 years:

1) score above 95 percent in boards

2) get a strong, lean, HEALTHY body

3) have clear skin and healthy hair

4) win a watty's award and get an art account on instagram with a good amount of followers

5) get a degree from an ivy league university

7) have a good circle of friend whilst maintaining a close connection with my family

8) get a well paying stem oriented job, preferably at pharma or cosmetic manufacturing.

9) buy a bike, preferably a royal Enfield

10) afford a one bedroom apartment, with a pretty view.

yes, the standards are high, but its fine. the higher i aim, the more ill push, and the more i can achieve. but this 5 year plan is split into segments and stages and the first stage is the 21 DAY PROJECT. a lifestyle change in 21 days to build habits and set a schedule which will act as a base to achieve my goals in the future. every single day of the 21 day project will be me following a set schedule, achieving the same daily goals and building a new routine. so each day of the 21 day challenge i will:

2)study: 3 hours a day, two hours post school and an hour post dinner

1) workout: weights, abs training, legs

3) spend an hour towards my hobbies: writing, reading, art

4) follow a bare minimum skin care routine: 3 litres of water, sunscreen and moisturizing

5) stay in touch with my family: regular conversations with my parents and weekly calls to my grandparents

6) minimise screentime: to 30 minutes a day, maximum 1 hour.

Ofcourse, breaks included, because then life would be dull and filled with anxiety and stress. so, ill ensure to catch up with friends, watch my favorite shows and take it easy on the weekends.

ill update this blog everyday and share how much i achieved, what i couldnt achieve, why and also what i learn along the way, because self improvement isnt like those cute pinterest aesthetic photos. its grueling, difficult and hard to achieve and i want to share every single detail, including the not so glam ones. so if you want to see an actual mental and physical level up, gain guidance or motivation, or just cheer a fellow stranger on, maybe click that follow button and be part of the journey.

-here's hoping, M

[goonie-forever]

#1

This is for me....

I want to write to get this all out of my brain. It's hard to hold everything in and just live through life with it all bouncing around in my head, like hyper kids in one of those blow up castles at birthday parties.

At this point I don't even really know where to start.

Maybe....

Just the basics for now.

I made it to my late twenties and that in itself feels like a dream. I never thought I would make it this long. I thought for sure I would've taken myself out by now and made my world quiet. Here I am! Living in my late twenties! I moved back home recently to go back to school and pursue the career that I always wanted but was too chaotic to achieve.

Another good place to start is that I am trying to be a better person... in my professional life as well as my personal life. Work, school and relationships! OH MY! Juggling everything has been quite the journey in its self.

Relationships...

Ugh.

Where do I even begin.

I can start by saying my "picker" is broken. Because oh boy! Do I know how to choose the good ones! My first serious boyfriend was a tweaker and cheated on me. He also beat up my brother which was sooooo much fun (sarcasm is dripping from that). He also wasn't the kindest person to me either but I was young dumb and ready to love someone. He hurt me a few times and took advantage of me and the emotional abuse was strong at its peak. It definitely didn't start out that way. You ever hear about the boiled frog metaphor? Well my frog was boiled until he went to jail and I packed my shit and moved thousands of miles away. I avoided anything that resembled a relationship after that. The trauma from that took a toll and my already existing trauma ( That's for another day) also reared its ugly head. After a looooooonnnnngggg time I start talking to this girl who we will call Mary. Mary is absolutely beautiful in every way. Older and definitely prettier than me. I figured why not shoot my shot and she took it. Then I moved. I blew up my whole life to start a career I always wanted. Long distance wasn't her thing and that was okay. It was my fault for leaving. We talked all the time and I grew to love her more and more. Her faith in God was beautiful. She made me want to believe again. Then she got mean. She told me I was going to hell because I wouldn't accept Jesus into my heart. Mary and I fought one day about something stupid (that's also a story for another time) and I said what I needed to say and I never talked to Mary again.

Jimmy (not his real name)

Jimmy and I have been talking over text for 10 years. It started on kik when I was 17. He always checked on me and he saw me at all of my bad times and still thought I was beautiful, even when I cut off all my hair in a manic rage. The universe never let Jimmy and I come together. Either he was in a relationship or I was. I also had a terrible habit of moving out of state. Finally after years of just texting and phone calls we met in person. We went straight to a hotel.... My dumb brain made me awkward and he sensed the fact I was uncomfortable. Nothing happened but I did lose my shirt and we shared long takeout sessions until it got dark and I needed to go home. And again my dumb brain made me freak out and I convinced myself that if I liked him this much he would leave me.... so I left him. I ghosted Jimmy for over a year. Just recently I got drunk with some friends and I messaged him on Facebook. I apologized for all of the times I ghosted him. This was part of me trying to be better. I think I just needed to get right before I dove in again. Now we talk everyday and he's the nervous one now. Which I understand because I did that to him. We've been through some shit and are both broken and that's okay. I really do think it will be better this time.

Jimmy is part of the reason I decided to write all of this. To revisit everything, to remember everything and move forward. I don't want to lose him again.

I won't lose him again.

Cheers,

Goonie

[bitcofun]

Attention is the lifeline of Dogecoin ( DOGE) and other memecoins. Similar to revenues drive the cost of business shares, the size and quality of attention caught by memecoins drive their cost action. Successful crypto traders comprehend that DOGE and its kin are not simply chips in the "fantastic shitcoin gambling establishment" however are, in reality, tradable derivatives of human attention. They are tradable properties backed by zeitgeists. Trading memecoins isn't practically spinning the wheel however about weighing the coin's evaluation versus the quantity of attention it's getting. As crypto influencer Cobie stated, "Smart traders begin offering as ownership and assessment have actually overtaken attention." This implies that human attention is being seen progressively as one of the scarcest products on the planet, which holds true. We've understood this for so long that it's now a cliche to talk about the "attention economy." Related: 90% of GameFi jobs are messing up the market's credibility In the 2000 s, Web2 business like Facebook and Snapchat discovered to generate income from attention. They produced apps that recorded individuals's attention and tracked their habits, which enabled them to farm and offer attention to marketers. I understand this may seem like undergraduate hooey, however as our financial system modifications and progresses, it's just natural that the kinds of things we worth ought to broaden. If human attention is effective enough to drive the bottom line of substantial business like Meta and Google, then why not trade it straight? Memecoins are a method of valuing and trading the attention product in a decentralized way. Utilizing blockchains and automated market makers, anybody can trade on individuals's attention and interest. Remember when Joe Rogan entered warm water previously this year about remarks he made on his popular The Joe Rogan Experience podcast? Within 24 hours, perhaps a lots Rogan-themed memecoins were released, with one, Marshall Rogan Inu (MRI), exceeding a $50 million market capitalization. How could the marketplace cap get so high? Well, at that minute, MRI was the leading trending coin throughout trading platforms like DEX Screener, it was exploding on Twitter, and it had actually sponsored a blended martial arts fighter. Its assessment needed to overtake the quantity of buzz surrounding the task. Or take DOGE, which pumped following Elon Musk's Twitter takeover The greater assessment was not just due to the logical, if dangerous, play that Musk may incorporate the crypto token into Twitter in the future, however it was likewise a function of crypto traders wagering that Musk's tweets would drive attention to DOGE and increase its rate. Unlike little memecoins that live and pass away on just how much interest there remains in the story, memecoin stalwarts like Shuba Inu ( SHIB) and Dogecoin likewise have principles adding to their worth. DOGE's market cap is presently over $16 billion, and it's one of the biggest proof-of-work blockchains following Ethereum's switch to proof-of-stake in September. DOGE's assessment is for that reason based upon its basics plus attention, whereas memecoins like Will Smith Inu (WSI), which pumped after Will Smith slapped Chris Rock at the Oscars, are valued just on attention and are forgotten when the news cycle proceed. Related: Throw your Bored Apes in the garbage While it's simple to dismiss all this as useless gaming-- and I do not reject the speculative element-- that would miss out on the modification beneath the hood. Memecoins aren't based upon random dice rolls-- they track the human attention product. Given the headwinds dealt with by the world economy, the development of brand-new methods of speculation and investing is not unexpected. Our economies remain in threat of grinding to a stop due to decreasing performance and scarcer natural deposits. In the future, we will see an uptick in ephemeral elements of culture ending up being tradable products.

Fractionalized music albums and copyright rights are on the method, and thanks to memecoins, individuals can now trade derivatives based upon jokes and tabloid scandals. The huge market cap of DOGE and the consistent parade of microcap memecoins reveal that our principle of worth is moving from real-world products that come out of the ground to the ephemeral qualities that produce culture. And keep in mind, if everybody chooses something is important, it may well be. Nathan Thompson is the lead tech author for Bybit. He invested 10 years as a self-employed reporter mainly covering Southeast Asia prior to relying on crypto throughout the Covid-19 lockdowns. He holds joint honors in interaction and viewpoint from Cardiff University. This short article is for basic details functions and is not planned to be and need to not be taken as legal or financial investment guidance. The views, ideas and viewpoints revealed here are the author's alone and do not always show or represent the views and viewpoints of Cointelegraph. Read More

[loversdelusions]

How would yandere Deku (different versions including villain waifu Deku since I like that version the most) react to reader having a magical bow and when she uses it, the sun gets really heated up and can cause balls of fire to fall on the ground and make the place really hot, like burning and scorching hot?

Had fun writing the Villain Waifu Deku one, not gonna lie. I really want to write a full fic about it. It would make such a fun plot.

CW: Mentions of sex, yandere themes.

Pt.1 Includes - Pro hero, Yandere & Villain Waifu Deku.

Deku X Reader: ☀︎ Sun Queen ☀︎

Pro Hero Izuku is infatuated by you, as he obviously is a lot of the time. He loves strange quirks, and yours was amazing. So powerful it threw his to the curb. It seemed magical, like something out of urban legend. Other than studying you uncomfortably closely, he loved seeing you in action.

Reaching out, and seeing your intricate golden bow materialize in your grasp, and your eyes melt away into golden light, with your aim inhuman in its accuracy, it struck him how unbelievable of a hero you would've made, even though the damage would be too big for be worth the villain's capture.

The sun seemed to follow your emotional state, he noticed. When came home late and injured especially when he promised he'd be home before you, he'd notice the sun scorching the next day, it didn't matter if it was January mid-winter because your eyes shone warmly and the sun followed your lead.

It was better for everyone if he kept you happier during the mornings.

But Izuku didn't expect how angry you were after he was gone for a couple of days until he saw the giant ball of liquid fire falling from the sky. People rushed around him, screams of upcoming rapture hurled around him. Heroes ran in a hurry glancing back and pulling him aside to gasp out orders from the hero committee. Heroes in search for the villain, people huddling in religious homes praying to their gods, the chaos made his ears ring.

He had to get home.

He had to get to you.

The ground near his home was burning. Plants withered and burned to ash, fire arrows littered the archery rink he'd made for you, even breathing became difficult the closer he got. By the time he reached home, his keys were unusable, his skin was slick with sweat and he felt like all the water in his body had managed to disappear. When he rushed home, he fell down to the floor, wheezing and definitely burned his hands and arms as the wood had still heated up beyond measure and he was exasperated in his wonder about how in the actual fuck had it not burst into flames.

Then he heard you respond to his calls. "Izuku? Your home!"

You rushed to him, throwing your arms around him, he sighed, relieved to see you safe and sound. He hugged you tight, even if uncomfortable in his skin. He basically wheezed, "You're safe."

You chuckled, then punched him in the gut.

Knocking the barely available breath from his lungs. Your hiss came straight afterwards, "I thought you fucking died."

"...Sorry."

"You were missing for two weeks, you bastard! You didn't even pick up the phone!"

He wanted to defend himself, but this was something he did in his youth. It was stupid and irresponsible. He'd been chided about this before. He'd been hit for it before, he'd seen how bad it gets, before. Yet... It was a habit he couldn't break. Running straight into the action without a thought.

"I know I messed up...but... people are ... panicking... outside...Stop the sun.." He tried between gasps. You blinked, then spared a glance outside to witness the panic and chaos you'd created. Your lips parted in surprise, then formed into a silent 'oh'.

"Shit."

"mm..." He huffed.

You tried, you did. But it was really too late. No one connected you to the villain attack, people were quick to theorize about the incident. Questions surrounding the incident and who and how the sun decided to rain fire on Japan.

The cause was never found, but it was dubbed 'the rage of the sun queen,' and caused arts and songs to capture the event, which was more hilarious to you than to him, especially since speculation of where he was had sparked on the internet, and if he had rushed to hide of all things.

Even though no one ever realized it was you, the hidden partner of the number one hero who was behind the sun queen incident, they were close.

Izuku wasn't sure how accurate they were after all, you were the Sun Queen.

______________________________________

Yandere Izuku is cautious of you. He isn't stupid, and he wouldn't dare abduct you knowing you could rain hellfire on him. It takes a bit of time, but he makes sure to keep people away from you. No one would dare come close to you. Not with his glare trained on them. You wondered what was going on, your friends slowly pushing themselves away from you, but you never could figure it out. No one would tell you what was wrong.

Izuku seemed like a saving grace, the boy waited till the third year to confess, and of course, you accepted his feelings. He was the only one who didn't push you away, the only one who was always there for you. He seemed to understand everything about you, it was like second nature to him. You were his after that. It was all going according to his plan.

He's very intelligent by nature, intuitive and calculating after years of observing heroes and villains. Faced with your quirk, it was really a bump for him, having to adapt around your power. He simply couldn't be as straightforward, as he would have been without this predicament. He couldn't have you like he wanted, he needed to be careful, to manipulate you so thoroughly you'd believe that it was always your plan from the beginning to be with him, to give him all of you- But don't worry, he would only provide the same.

He loved you after all. You were the sun in his eyes, nothing could remove the absolute reign you had over him.

While he gazed at your sleeping face, so comfortable and adorable, a tiny smile plastered dreamily across your lips. He couldn't help feeling overwhelmed with happiness and want, his heart jumping painfully in his chest. He was almost there. He only had to be patient. He had to be patient.

He leaned in, snuggling closer to you, clinging to your skin, and smothering his face with your hair. You were so divine; Floating above everything, he couldn't believe he was here with you. It made him so giddy!

It didn't matter the feeling that sometimes weighed on his chest, all the thoughts of what he had to do. When he saw you, all of it was justified, because all those lives were worth that smile you give, that toothy crooked grin that made him feel free.

Looking at you, the only person who could bring the fucking sun down to its knees, he felt airy, happy. It reminded him what all he did was for.

It was for you. Only you, and god, he wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh and cry because all of it was too much. The guilt, if it could even be called that, the throat squeezing languid feeling, it tore at his edges. The soft feeling of being able to breathe after holding your breath for years, that was what it was that you gave, your presence, the lilt to your voice, it made him ease, and feel... right.

the bodies at his feet were all for that. The blood on his hands... it was right.

Your hands skirted over his waist and pulled yourself closer to him as if tunnelling into the blankets to get closer to his warmth.

He felt right. That's how he slept, with his arms around you, to stifle all the thoughts that made it hard to remember.

His sun, his light. His powerful goddess.

Sacrifices for the sun goddess.

That's what it was. That's all it was.

His smile didn't leave, even while he slept.

______________________________________

Villain Waifu Izuku is very concerned. He'll be sure to prepare you for work in the mornings and the moment you leave the TV is on and he's ready to listen to what the fuck is going down.

His own crew is not allowed to interact with you at any cost.

They are instructed to avoid you, hell, ideally only attack at night. So you might be a bit slow. He isn't risking anything to this insane fucking quirk of yours. He's marvelled at it before but never really understood the bulk of it until you almost fried him one day and he came home with 3rd-degree burns.

That was tough to explain.

He was lucky enough to hide it and endure, though you were just as equally tired from the fight and the both of you ended up falling asleep after a fuck ton of tequila to muddle the pain. you were spitting angry, and he had to listen to your rambles of 'that fucking son of a bitch rabbit!' that managed to slip past you and smile awkwardly trying to push down the urge to mutter, 'you love my mom,' every time you swore.

It was a horrid affair, having to fight you while hiding himself from you. With every burn and scar, he had to explain away you were becoming suspicious. You knew he wanted to be a hero before, but he couldn't because of his 'quirklessness,'. With your rationality, you decided he was still training and was pushing himself too far, and therefore gaining these scars you kept seeing.

He was slightly offended but could not correct you.

Your own excuse was something he could definitely hide behind.

So instead, his shoulders raised and his hand flew to curls at the back of his neck awkwardly, and he smiled sheepishly, trying to sell it. "I'm sorry, it's just training. I'll try not to...hurt myself?" He chuckled, even though the corner of his lips twitched, almost revealing his annoyance.

"Just be more careful, Izu," You insisted, "Don't stretch yourself too thin, I don't want you to burn out, love."

He sighed, this time his smile was genuine. "I won't. I am just tryna keep healthy."

You hummed softly, though he didn't want you to think too much about it, especially since it'll make less and less sense the more you do, so instead he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

You didn't hesitate in your reply, pulling him closer and down onto your lap. He chuckled against your lips.

Was fucking you a good distraction? yes. Undoubtedly, though he did regret it soon enough, after realizing he had sustained a pretty bad injury to his side, making it incredibly un-fucking-comfortable. You reminded him of it well when you dragged him off to the living room, away from the porch the both of you were conversing on. It sure felt like karma, and he tried not to think about it. After leaving you to fall asleep in bed, he left to grab some type of medicine and an ice pack, also a hell ton of water.

The next day the pep in your step was adorable, while he was barely able to move.

That day wasn't hectic like you thought it is, apparently. You raved about hopping you had slowed down the mysterious villain the day before, not knowing that you simply fucked him paralyzed.

Not the greatest conversation to have with a group of villains, that he could test to. He knew he'd never live it down.

What can be done? Married life was difficult.