#not fanfic for the first time ever

[evilrat-sabre]

This isn't about Strawberry jam

I want to ramble on about something I am not so sure about what it is, so I will tell yall a story.

So imagine this; You are 20 years old, you live with your partner in your shared apartment, your partner buys a tiny glass jar of strawberry jam. 

If I pointed at that moment and asked you what it was, I think you would say “Well, it's a jar of strawberry jam” 

Okay now, imagine one week later; the jam was good, but the jar was tiny so you and your partner already ate all of it, holding the empty and dirty jar you realize, wow it has a very nice shape, maybe I can use it as a cup, so you clean the jar and lets it sitting beside your water filter. 

If I pointed now and asked what it was, what would you say? “It’s an empty jar of strawberry jam that we use to drink water.”

Okay cool, nice and practical, lets go forward, Imagine 10 years later… Yea I know a lot of time, but hear me out; You are 30 years old and you had a child in the meantime, this child is 7 years old. 

If I pointed to the empty jar of strawberry jam and asked what it is, you know what they would say? “It’s a glass cup, we use it to drink water.” Do you see where I am going?

Okay now let's go 30 years in the future, imagine; you are 60 years old and this story isn’t about you anymore, no this story is about your grandchild now. Your 37 years old child has a 10 year old child themselves now. If I pointed to the glass cup and asked the same old question, what would they say? “Oh that's a vintage glass cup that belonged to my grandparents, my parents get it out on… special occasions.” Okay cool, it's a vintage heirloom now I guess.

Okay now Imagine; Someone broke it, what would be said if I pointed to the glass and asked you to say what it is?

“This was an empty jar of Jam, we bought it a bunch of years ago and I don’t remember if the Jam was good or not, but it served us well.”

Ok, and If I asked your child?

“Oh, this was an old glass cup that was in my parents house. I liked to use it when we would drink vodka… I think it was older than me. It's a shame it is broken.”

Your grandchild?

“This was a family heirloom. It was older than my parents and I pretended to give it to my child one day. To be honest, the thing was old, it is a miracle how long it lasted.”

The garbage man that will dispose of it.

“Someone threw broken glass in the wrong bin, I will have to put on my gloves.”

[alien-bluez]

Lark can't handle nice things, and as he says "always fucks it up."

Drew a scene from this fic here, please please go read it right now!

[ikeasharksss]

hey im curious

feel free to rb & explain your answer in the tags!

[seventh-district]

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks.

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

[flowercrowngods]

in which steve is sick, eddie is in love, and floor time is being had

Eddie is in the kitchen when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. The smile is on his face before he even turns around to catch a glimpse of Steve, gloriously disheveled from all that sleep he’s been catching up on. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s big, fuzzy sweaters that Steve always hogs when he’s sick — which, thankfully, isn’t all that often —, a thick pair of sweats and mismatched socks.

Sickness is the time to wear mismatched socks without judgment, Edwin Munswin, Steve had huffed the first time Eddie saw him with a runny nose and ridiculous socks that definitely didn’t belong together. It had been the first time he admitted to himself that he was absolutely gone for Steve Runny Nose Harrington.

And so it doesn’t come as a surprise to him that his heart stumbles in his chest and the smile on his lips widens. Steve might hate being sick, but Eddie can’t really help but love him even more when he gets like this. When Steve allows himself to be a little weak and for Eddie to take care of him.

“Hi, sunshine,” Eddie says, turning down the heat on the stove to go over to his Stevie, wrapping his arms around the blanket Steve still has around his shoulders. “Sleep well?”

“Mmh.” It’s nothing more than a raspy grunt, a pathetic little noise as Steve cuddles further into Eddie, seeking out his warmth and comfort so freely that Eddie presses a kiss to his slightly sweaty forehead. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he promises, running a hand up and down Steve’s back. “Just made you tea while the soup is warming up. Because you’re gonna have to eat.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, sounding solemn as he does, and Eddie wants to laugh. Gods, he’s so in love, it’s disgusting. Ridiculous. Absolutely laughable. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” A whisper, another promise, another kiss. He unwinds his arms and looks back at the giant pot of soup he made yesterday. “Do you wanna go back to bed or stay here?”

“Here,” Steve sighs and promptly sinks down the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Eddie with those beautiful brown eyes, so big and and full of love that Eddie can’t resist ruffling his hair, which earns him a little giggle from Steve.

Oh, right, he’s had the good stuff prescribed from the doctor. This is going to be fun in a few hours.

“You ridiculous man,” Eddie murmurs, trailing his hand from the crown of Steve’s head down across his cheek all the way to his chin in a gentle caress.

“Go back to your soup, you most ridiculous of men,” Steve says in retaliation, but he reaches for his hand to hold as Eddie returns to the stove.

“Technically it’s your soup.”

“That’s what I said.” Eddie looks down to see the most adorable of frowns on Steve’s head, and his heart explodes a little in his chest.

He snorts and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Sure is, baby.”

“See? I’m smart sometimes.”

“No argument from me there,” Eddie says, and he means it.

A hum comes from Steve and then he leans his head against Eddie’s leg. “You’re so nice to me, Eds. I like that you’re nice to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then it’s quiet, and the weight of Steve against his leg becomes heavier by the second to the point where Eddie is pretty sure Steve’s fallen asleep again. He doesn’t dare to move, but dear God he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to scream at the world how much he loves this ridiculous, adorable, possibly delirious and high on cold medication man who is wrapped in his blanket on their kitchen floor.

“Stevie,” he whispers at last, the soup hot, the tea just cool enough, and cards his hand through Steve’s hair to wake him. “Sunshine, wake up, I have soup for you.”

“Soup?”

“Soup.”

“But I love soup.”

“Then I have great news for you,” Eddie laughs and tilts Steve’s head up so he’ll meet his eyes. “It’s plenty, it’s warm, and you can have some. It’s right here.”

“You made me soup?”

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie chuckles, his heart tearing itself apart at the way Stevie looks up at him with such wonder and awe and love. “I made you so much soup. All for you.”

Steve nods, thinks for a moment and then looks up at Eddie again. “Can we share?”

“You wanna share your soup with me?” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s on eye level with Steve and can brush a kiss to his forehead again.

Steve nods again and reaches for him, clinging to Eddie’s sweater — well, it’s Steve’s technically. “Wanna share everything with you.“

“Even your blanket?”

Steve smiles and nods again, lifting one arm to invite Eddie in, which earns him a laugh. “Alright, let me just…”

He grabs two bowls of soup, Steve’s large mug of tea, two spoons and two pillows from their chairs so they can eat the soup on the floor without uncomfortable heat in their laps.

Later, when soup is but a distant memory of half an hour ago, Steve lets himself fall to the side and slumps into Eddie, head nestled on his shoulder.

“Sleep time again?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Steve slurs, definitely already on his way to half asleep. “Just. Just love you.”

Eddie hums and leans into Steve in return, warm underneath their blanket, surprisingly comfortable on the floor, backs against the counter. “Just love you, too, sunshine.”

And if Eddie closes his eyes, too, lulled into a sleepy state of comfort and warmth, then that’s just one more thing that happens with a sick Steve around.

In sickness and in health, he thinks with that same smile on his lips.

for @seidenbros, i besmooch your forehead with this 🌷🤍

[retellingthehobbit]

The Hobbit AU where Thorin survives BUT he has to deal with the same thing Bilbo did after surviving the journey. Thorin walks back into the Lonely Mountain only to find that he has been Presumed Dead, most of his things have already been sold, the Arkenstone has been auctioned off to the highest bidder, Dain is measuring his rooms as he plans to move in, Thranduil (the Sacksville-Baggins of the elves) has stolen all of his spoons and adamantly refuses to admit he is alive no matter what proofs he's given, and so on and so on

[whohasthecards]

Mav, Jake, & Blankie

Mav gifts Jake a soft blanket with letters or the alphabet printed all over it.

Jake: What's this, pops? Isn't this a kid's blanket?

Mav: Took me a while, but I found one that'll actually cover you head to toe.

Jake (grinning): Not used to shopping for blankets my size, Mav?

Mav (rolling his eyes): Ha-Ha very funny, kid.

Jake: Yes I'm hilarious, but seriously, what's up with the alphabet print, pops? I ain't an actual kid, I'm a big boy who knows his A, B, Cs

Mav: Not according to how you got your callsign

Jake (smiling sharply): Haven't you heard from Bradshaw, pops? I got my callsign from leaving people hanging, he's the one that coined it after all

Mav: I heard from Bradley that you already had a callsign when he met you, that you got it for a bunch of spelling mistakes you made in one of your reports.

Jake: ....

Mav: He also told me he got mad at you after a training hop, and he shouted that Hangman was the name of someone who would always leave a man behind. People latched on to that story. Didn't think you would have latched on as well, son

Jake (smiling bitterly): It's the story most people know and believe. You gotta own it, or the Navy'll eat ya alive.

Mav: We know that you aren't that. Your team knows that. I'm proud of you, son. For getting where you are now. This blanket is a reminder that you have to be proud of yourself too. Hangman isn't the name of some random asshole, Hangman is the name of some--

Jake: Asshole that can't spell?

Mav: I was going to say some human who makes the occassional mistake, but that works too, buddy.

Jake (runs his hands through the blanket, his throat getting tighter): ... Thank you, Mav.

Mav (claps Jake's shoulder): Of course, son. Enjoy your blankie (Mav grins widely)

Jake (chokes out a laugh): Fuck you, pops (buries his face into the blanket)

Mav pulls the kid into a hug, feeling the kid relax in his arms, taking deep breaths. He was always there to remind his kids that he sees them as who they are, not as who they think they have to be.

[soplapinga]

Okay okay I agree with everyone talking about the possibility of Pluto finally getting to go to France and meeting Duke in one of his shows, but I now raise you: What if they met BEFORE and Duke was actually the one to tell him about France and the lights and everything. What if Duke were the reason he wanted to go there in the first place. What then.

[cait-sith]

Illustration for Heartbalm for this year's @winterfest-gift-exchange!

First time writing! I had a blast, but since art is really more my forte, I figured I could lend the story some colour this way.

[marimo-art]

My art for the @malevolentbigbang I had the honor of participating in! The art goes along with this lovely, hurty little fic here called Stranded by Who_First on AO3 [ID An image of Arthur huddled into a knelt ball on the left hand side. He is sitting on a rock with snow piling on his back and head. There are messy style footprints leading to the spot he sits. On either side of the piece are two trees with snow piled up at their trunks and twigs sticking out of the snow. In the middle right side of the piece floats a four paned window with one broken pane, the window panes are black. /end ID]

[reegis]

May be perhaps consider…. GPT in dating simulator

🤭🤭

im considering GPT every day of my life just in general

using this to address all of the Many asks i have about drawing all of the other mechs+doc for the fake dating sim- i really wasn’t planning on adding any more of them past my original post,, (ashes as an exception bc. its ashes. i would burn down my entire planet for them in a heartbeat 😔)

if i have the time/ energy i will Maybe (maybe) add others but i really wasnt planning to go further w this so im sorry if i dont get to your request 😭

[charmac]

They’re not allowed to read fanfic? Darn, I kind of assumed Rob found your Twitter handle from reading your fic since he didn’t seem to do anything else on twitter when he followed you

So it comes down to the basic idea of copyright. It’s not illegal or technically even banned, but since RCG are creators, writers, producers, etc. on Sunny and not just actors, it’s really a dicey area for them.

The copyright laws/legality of fanfiction is actually really interesting, there’s a long, messy modern history of fighting for the right to publish and protect fanfiction from studios and/or creators claiming copyright infringement. This use to be a huge issue where authors would send cease and desists to websites like Fanfiction.net to take down all fanfiction of their work. OTW (Ao3) kind of spearheaded the right for fanfiction to exist apart from what it's derived from. The T standing for Transformative argues that because fanworks ‘transform’ the content they are based off, they are exempt from copyright law, as long as there’s no profit. So we cannot find ourselves in legal trouble for publishing fanfiction. As long as it's transformative (aka you're not just republishing source material), it's new/original content.

So that means fanfiction kinda has its own protections in return. As long as you're not profiting off of your work, you have a right to claim that your fanfiction and the ideas that are new/original belong to you. Which means if there is ever any proof that a creator read your work and then a later episode (or sequel, book, etc.) reflected anything you wrote that was not already in the source material prior to that, it can get very messy, in that there may be grounds for you to claim they profited off of your work. So most creators (writers especially) avoid reading fan works.

You can see why for a show like Sunny they might be especially careful reading anything, since there’s so much you can do in that show. If RCG have an idea for something as simple as The Gang Goes Camping, for example, but they’ve previously seen or read a fan work that hit that plot they’d be pretty inclined to never make the episode.

The basic idea being that you don’t want to hinder what you can in good conscience, with no legal issues, write, so you avoid fanworks all together.

I'll give you an example based on what happened with Charlie: he was in public and surrounded by fans and one fan hands him his spec script, or plot idea for an episode. If he had read it, all of a sudden whatever was on that paper becomes a legally grey issue in the writers room. If they liked the plot idea or dialogue (or whatever was on that paper) and end up using something in an actual episode, what claim does the fan now have? Everyone at the event could potentially tell you that this fan contributed to the show, so it's best not to read it. Don't risk ruling out a plot line you may have wanted, don't risk accidentally stealing from a fan, don't risk the show ending up in a legal battle.

Also, first anon: I still don't know why or have any solid proof as to how Rob found my account, but at the time he followed me I did have a 5hr old Tweet with ~15k likes reposting one of his TikToks and calling him the cringiest person alive. I didn't tag him or name him, he didn't like it, or interact with it or any of the replies or literally any other Tweet that day, but I have to imagine he saw it and that's why he followed me. Degradation kink overrules everything else.

[takemetodragonstone]

thinking today about the friendship i lost because this girl thought i was homophobic for my reaction when destiel became canon, and i just let her think that because the truth was so much worse. i’m not a homophobe…but i was a wincest shipper

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Undertale/ISAT crossover thoughts

Don't really want to write one myself (already got enough fics I'm failing to write XD) but ever since I finished In Stars and Time I've been thinking how I'd write a crossover between these two amazing games and I figured I'd share my notes in case anyone needs a bit of help/motivation in writing their own~ =D

Warning: These will mostly be in 'order of thought' as it's all barebones stuff. Also contains FULL spoilers for both Undertale and In Stars and Time so er, if you're still looking to play those/still getting through them don't read this and please play this incredible games.

Mt Ebott is located on The Island and the shattering of the Barrier brings the ability to see color back to all those on the (ISAT) surface.

Humans losing the ability to see color in ISAT was due to them/the 'wish wizards' of The Island sacrificing it (along side their seven strongest 'colour casters') in a Wish Craft ritual, naturally leading to humanity losing most of their 'colour magic' knowledge.

Undertale's 'sepia flashbacks' were all Chara's memories of how the world looked to them, BUT once in the Underground they were able to see (and remember things on the Surface) in color (hence the whole 'golden flowers' bit; it was still mostly just a cover story but Chara genuinely wished that they could see their favorite flower field as the 'gold' they realized it was rather than the 'mid tones' they saw it as on the Surface).

...The 'erasure' of the Island I'm thinking might've been accidentally poor Chara and Asriel's fault: with Chara's 'ritual' killing of themselves via buttercup taking three days to happen, Chara being from the Island insisting Asriel always give them flowers in groups of three, seven and thirteen, and an entire Underground filled with tons and tons of 'trapped' wishes from monster kind for their freedom combining with Chara's self loathing/desire to hurt those who hurt them trapping them in a loop that Just. Wouldn't. End. until Chara eventually snapped and pulled a 'May these people, this Island, EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE WHO'D EVER HURT THE MONSTERS I LOVE including me BE ERASED UNTIL THE MONSTERS ARE FREE!' and um. Welp. There went an entire nation... (also Flowey eventually remembered some of this but only after going back to being Flowey post Asriel and probably it took a while for him to sort through all that).

Which er, means in this fic, that the people of The Island and the Island itself are still 100% there but they've all spent roughly 8 years or so all blitzed out of their minds: Need to think of Chara's exact wish wording so its not just 'corpses everywhere' but very good odds the people on the Island were either running on full automatic for years or able to remember some stuff but only if they very very carefully did not think of themselves as their own countrymen/used the languages of elsewhere/were careful not to think of where they were as any actual location within their country...

...Which naturally would effect the kids by far the most as their very language is basically a brown note (bilingual types could at least swap over to a different language but likely most of The Island was rendered silent) and well, pretty hard to remember Mt Ebbot is the mountain that must not be climbed when you can't think of the locations around you by name and the adults may or may not remember the kids exist half the time so... Yeah. Cue a lot of kids climbing up the mountain due to both lack of warnings and increased chances of feeling ignored/isolated/hurt.

Aka why in Undertale we can never hear/read anything Frisk says, why the monsters outside of Flowey/Asriel never refer to Chara by name and why no one remembers Frisk's name until after the Barrier shatters: Chara's 'Wish' couldn't be broken until then.

Not sure where all the anime and high tech that's washing into the Underground is coming from but either The Island used to be a massive tech hub prior to memory erasure, a LOT of tech was lost along with the loss of color or The Island's memory erasure in the ISAT world color magitech? maybe the wizards tried to seal away more than just monsters?, or IDK maybe the Underground barrier techincally had them displaced outside of Space and Time a bit and the garbage that was washing in was from literally everywhere thanks to the Universe wanting to help them or something (side note: realizing the memory erasure from Chara may have accidentally snipped Universe worship from the monsters as well since they clearly venerate the stars also but well. That longing for the stars DID cause them pain so..).

Imagining that Siffrin and party are in Bambouche meeting Bonnie's sister (or idk, having a vacation or reunion there if you wanna give Siff a bit more recovery/'explaining his issues to his family' time) when the Barrier is broken and all the colors come rushing back. Best first sunset ever (right before the entire Surface world kinda flips out over color, and to a lesser extent those familiar with The Island start remembering more and more details as the 'curse' weakens a little with every monster leaving Mt Ebbot) followed up by Siffren and the others absolutely losing their minds over how beautiful the stars are with just a tiny bit of color to them (the stars no longer being passively pushed out of people's awareness helps).

Anyway next day the party realize they have to investigate: Partly because Siff is well, kind of losing their mind over being able to see and remember home a little, but also because W.T.F and the Island is clearly the epicenter of everything going on. ...Also Siff may remember childhood stories about colors being locked away to serve as warning for if the Monsters returned so um. That's could be a thing.

Meanwhile the Monsters are getting a MUCH warmer reception from the local humans than they ever could've imagined (accidentally saving a nation from enforced amnesia kinda does that) and are also very confused as to why no one knows who they should get in contact with for formal alliance stuff (not sure if The Island has much of a government left at this point honestly...)

Would Flowey and the ghosty Chara acompanying Frisk count as Sadnesses???

... And er, that's all I got plot/setup wise. Most of my brain energy had been spent on imagining what soul colors all the ISAT cast have and also 'What Pokemon would they all be if they ended up in a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon game?' so have a list with my reasoning on that front! =D

Siffrin: Blue/Integrity - Might seem like an odd choice given his constant lying/acting but like. Given all of the memory erasure and the torture of the loops Siffrin's absolute refusal to compromise his family's happiness/safety or use the loops for literally anything not 'helping family/ending the loops' based (even when he's basically losing his mind and could really use just... Taking a loop or three to goof off or something) just screams how devoted he is to what he believes in and well, the amount he lies syncs up well with how insane he's going so yeah. Siffren is an Integrity soul who's having a really really hard time being true to himself due to all the wobbie breaking he's gone through all his life. Specifically I like to picture his soul as a very dark, deep black/blue with little pinpricks of other colored light (mostly green, red and yellow), like a tiny heart shaped starry night's sky <3 (And er, bet that soul went very 'red/bleeding sky' as he was losing it in Act 5; Determination isn't his color by nature but they were not well at that point at all).

Isabeau: Cyan/Patience - Isa is super kind and all sorts of things but what really sets him apart is just how patient he is about everything (in ways both good and bad). I like to imagine his soul looking like a blue daytime sky, maybe with the odd white cloud and yellow 'sun' dot: partly because it fits him but also partly to cutely contrast Siffrin's. *cue me humming Like Morning Follows Night from the RWBY OST because I mean. It kinda fits honestly

Mirabelle: Orange/Bravery and/or Yellow/Justice - Again another 'you might not think so' but like. Mirabelle is hella gutsy despite her anxiety and I admire her so so much (also JUSTICE BARRIER REFLECT AGAINST THE KING YAAAAGH! XD) Not super attached to it as Isa and Siff's but the orange/yellow glow of a sunset (maybe with some pink/purple along the edges to show her Perseverance <3).

Odiel: Green/Kindness - She's hella awkward about how much she cares and not the greatest at reading situations/reacting gently but like. Her sheer affection towards the others, her always watching and coming out with the bandages and how she point blank tells Siff 'nope, not angry at you nearly blowing up the world. Also you trying to do that because you love us is cute' means I can't really see her any other way~ Not sure if her soul would be dark green (for more Integrity) or more light green (for more Justice) but all in all, very very green, like light/dark speckled leaves <3

Bonnie: Purple/Perseverance - This kid endures so much so well I swear (they're also really brave so a little orange would work well too but despite everything I don't think bravery is their main characteristic). I like to think of their soul as very 'purple evening clouds with bits of brave orange gold/setting sun on the edges'.

And Loop has a White boss monster soul for reasons; thinking that in this crossover that Monsters believe that they were born from the Universe's compassion (with The Islander's myths claiming they're the result of failed/'cursed' wishes like the 'brother who can understand my suffering Wish Craft' fairytale Siff finds in the Orary room) and both Monsters and the Islanders believing Sadnesses are born from forcing a wish of cruelty/sorrow that goes against the will of the Universe (cue Chara and Flowey who probably were Sadnesses in this until the breaking of the Barrier grumbling that yeah that sounds about right and The King from ISAT proving to even more aaagh than he already was).

And yeah. I'm out of babble thoughts now so hope that this was interesting for you all and please feel free to yoink any ideas that snag your interest <3

[aangelfreckles]

I was doing some warm up doodles and decided to do a quick doodle of eclipse

The silly<3

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 10

10 - Maybe Both, Maybe Neither

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc [vallie]

masterlist/intro: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5.8k

summary: after waking up next to each other vallie & nicholas go their separate ways. vallie goes to visit an old friend who may be more than friendly. nicholas goes to sober up noah but doesn’t expect him to pull the curtain back on his resentment.

warnings: mentions about alcoholism/AA meetings/cheating, arguing, noah being annoying but what's new, tea is spilled !!, vallie is vulnerable for once in her life, lots of dialogue, alternating POVs sorry 🥲

A/N: Sorry it's been like 2 months since I’ve updated, it literally did not feel like it 🥲 school & life are kicking my ass lol + this chapter ended up being so complicated / difficult

Also! This chapter introduces a very mild crossover with Christian 'Kras' Anthony from the band Chase Atlantic - he's being used as a fun little temporary reoccurring side character. Don't worry, knowing who he is isn't necessary to understand his character lol i just think he's cute🥰

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

-NICHOLAS-

A jarring buzzing jolts me awake. I sit up a bit with scrunched eyes trying to follow the noise with a wandering patting hand. The noise leads to Vallie’s phone rattling on my bedside table next to her. I grab it and sleepily ignore the call out of habit.

In my still half-sleep state, I don’t want to be anywhere else besides where my body was curled up against her. I return to my spot with my arm around the brunette, tugging her closer. Her scent fills my nostrils when I nuzzle into her neck. The smell of her hair is peppermint-y and the scent on her skin reminds me of marshmallows and… matcha?

Whatever it is, it’s warm, cozy, and smells so yummy it makes me want to eat her again.

Before I have the pleasure of manifesting that thought into reality, her phone goes off vibrating again, this time making me significantly more aggravated.

I snatch the phone looking at her caller ID – the name plastered across the screen:

Christian

with some emojis I’m far too sleepy to decipher.

Christian?

I decide not to ignore her phone call from an evidently urgent caller.

“Hey, Hey.” I gently nudge her shoulder. “Your phone has been going off.”

She lets out a sleepy groan that is probably the cutest noise I’ve ever heard.

She takes one look at the ID and immediately ignores it and shoves it under the pillow.  

Odd.

She yawns and rubs her eye, “What time is it?”

“I’m not sure.” I try to look at the edges of my window covered with blackout curtains trying to gauge even the time of day. “You have your phone, check it?”

Her fingers tap against the mattress. “It’s not that important.”

“Who’s Christian?” I blurt out without thinking.

From the angle I’m at, I can see her eyes widen a bit at the question.

She clears her throat. “What?”

“The person who kept calling you. It was someone named Christian?”

“Oh um,” She bites down on my lip, seemingly contemplating her answer. “He’s a friend.”

I’m filled with a feeling I’m not sure I enjoy nor one I should be feeling.

“A friend?” I ask, unconvinced.

It’s none of my business. It doesn’t matter who he is.

“Yeah, a friend.” She scrunches her brows at the wall. “Why do you care who’s calling me?”

“I-I don’t.” I reply but I know I’m a shit liar and I probably don’t sound very convinced. “I was just wondering.”

“Right.” She yawns then gets up in a panic like she just realized where she is. “Oh my god we fell asleep.”

“Yeah…I figured you gathered that by now.” I said falling down flat beside her.

“Fuck Nick, how am I gonna get out of here?” She scrambles for her phone beneath the pillow to finally check the time. “Fuck, fuck, I have to leave.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. Let me just check out the house, I can take you to get your car.” I pull myself out of bed and let myself stretch out my arms above my head.

“Fuck.” She mutters, readjusting her entire torso in her tight top. “Remind me to never sleep in a corset ever again. I need to get out of this, can I borrow something?”

Her attention lands on me and at first, her forest greens are inquisitive and calm but when she actually looks at me, they widen. Her eyes slowly trail down my body and land where my shirt hangs above the exposed skin of my hips.

Watching her tongue slide between her lips makes my heart thump in my ear drums so loud I can barely hear what she’s saying.

 “Also, can you um,” She clears her throat and looks back up at me, “Help me get this off?”

“Sure.” I nod and drop my arms back down.

She shifts in the bed so the zipper in the back of the faux-corset faces me. My fingers delicately gather her dark chocolate locks and drape them over her shoulder to get them out of my way. Her tan skin curves so beautifully from her neck to her shoulder that I feel as though if I don’t kiss her there it would somehow be insulting.

The need to kiss her there feels as necessary as air, so lean down and press a hesitant kiss to the crook of her neck as I begin unzipping her top.

She doesn’t stop me, which I was sure she would stop me now in the daylight.

Another kiss up, I linger more there.

Then another in the same spot, then another, and another, and another – until I am fully peppering her skin with open mouth kisses and my hands roam her curves.

She lets out little noises the closer I get to her ear that remind me of the ones she gave me when my tongue was inside her.

It’s not until I’m nipping and sucking at her skin that she speaks.

“Nick…” She whines in a tone that says ‘you know better’.

I tug down the rest of her zipper.

My lips still lazily drag up her neck.

I hum against her and let my hands wander down her sides to her hips. “Let me make you feel good.”

She lets out a shuddered whine but not a red or green light.

My hands round her hips giving them a gentle back and forth rub, “I need to taste you again.” I press another kiss against the sensitive skin below her ear and I can feel goosebumps erupt all over her skin.

My fingers burn everywhere they meet her skin and beg to be everywhere  they shouldn’t be.

She closes her eyes and lets herself breathe for a second.

“Nicholas.” She repeats, more sternly this time. “I have to leave before anyone sees me.”

“I know.” I say simply and pull away, strategically resting both hands over my semi.

I know I shouldn’t press more. I know shouldn’t try to convince more. But god do I want to. All I’m thinking about is fucking her senseless.

She keeps a hand on the front of the corset to keep it flush on her skin. “Could I please borrow something?” She reminds me of her original request.

“Oh yeah sure, sorry.” I quickly scan the room for the closest item.

I spot a barely worn Deftones shirt and hand it to her.

“Thanks.”

 She just sort of stares at me then makes a ‘turn-around’ motion with her hand.

“Oh, sorry.” I shift away from her. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Shut up.”

I hear her let out a sigh of relief, probably from finally being freed from the constricting top.

“Okay you can turn around now.”

I turn back to her and find what I expected: her in my shirt.

What I didn’t expect was to somehow find her even more attractive in my shirt than even a lace corset.

As much as I’d like for her to stay, I fear that if I don’t get her out now, I’ll devour her whole.

“I’ll just… go scope out the area.” I thumb over my shoulder towards the door.

“Good idea.” She nods.

I very quietly sneak out of my room into the empty hallway, gently closing the bedroom door behind me.

After tiptoeing around the house, I find everyone asleep as it seems still quite early, at least for them.  

The drive back to the bar is quiet and somewhat awkward. I’m not sure if it’s because of what we did or if I crossed some sort of invisible line and made her upset.

Or maybe both,

Maybe neither.

Maybe I’m over thinking it.

We haven’t talked about anything, no rules, no boundaries. I don’t know how I would bring that up to begin with. What the hell are we doing? And how do I feel about it. How do I want to feel about it? 

We say goodbye and it’s stiff and odd. I’m not sure if I should kiss her? Or treat her like my colleague?

Maybe both,

Maybe neither.

That one feels more like a maybe neither.

The way she acted this morning makes me think that whatever… this is, is over.

I know it should be done, but there is a part of me that doesn’t want to stop. At least not yet. Maybe if I got one more fix.

Regardless how I feel about it, it was a mistake. I knew that the first time, I knew it last night and I know it now.

Why did I let this happen. How did I let this happen?

I tap my fingers anxiously against the steering wheel once I’ve parked at home.

I know Folio wouldn’t really care but if Noah or Jolly found out about this?

Oh my god.

I don’t even want to think about what would happen.

All I know is two things.

One, I can’t keep fucking thinking about this – I can’t keep thinking about her.

Two, I unfortunately know what I need to do when I walk back through our front door.

-VALLIE-

As soon as my car door shuts behind me, I let out a long sigh that I wasn’t aware I was holding.

I fold my arms around my steering wheel and rest my forehead against it.

“Fuck.”

The entire ride home there was this nausea festering in the pit of my stomach.

I like being with Nicholas.

I like being with Nicholas too much.

And this stupid fucking Deftones shirt is too comfortable and smells too much like him – and I like it more than I should. And I need to get home as soon as possible to get it off me.

This is absolutely the last thing I needed – catching feelings or whatever the fuck is filling my chest with butterflies from someone I’m representing.

This is the band that I shouldn’t have even taken on in the first place, and now I’m here on the verge of vomiting because I miss the way his bed feels. This was not the plan.

I shake my head from the the thoughts as I walk through my front door. It’s just the dickmatization talking. That’s it. I like his dick and that’s all.

His huge fucking…

No.

No.

And god his fucking tongue...

No.

No.

This absolutely cannot be happening.

I won’t let this happen.

I need to nip this in the bud before it goes any further.

I chuck my phone and keys on my dresser and use my palms to lean against the edge.

An abrupt buzzing of my iPhone against the hard wood shocks me from my dissociation.

Christian

Christian

Christian

…could be exactly what I need.

I slide the answer bar across the screen and bring the phone to my ear.

“Hey Kras.” I smile, using his nickname.

“Val!” He chimes cheerfully on the other line. “I’ve been trying to get ya all day!”

“I’m busy Kras, you know that.” I roll my eyes playfully. “What’s up, what do you want so badly?”

“Tour ended last week and I’m staying in LA for a bit for some band stuff before I head back home to Sydney.” He pauses. “I wanna see you. I need to talk to you about something.”

I press my lips together and take a deep breath, suddenly stressed about what exactly that meant.

“Okay. When and where do you wanna meet up?”

“Today? My place?”

“Okay, see you then.”

After a much-needed shower I’m finally at the door of his temporary apartment. I smooth out my outfit, which wasn’t much really, just some sweats with a cropped tank. With as long as I’ve known Kras, it didn’t really matter what I looked like, but I still wanted to look cute. I use my hand to flatten my tied up hair to make sure there’s no ridges before I knock on his door. It doesn’t take long for him to answer it.

“Val.” He greets with his signature big goofy smile.

The tall, long-haired blonde envelopes me into giant hug and I embrace it. His scent fills my nose with memories; it’s soft, comforting, and most of all, fun.

Christian and I have always been close, he’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. Our friendship has always been…interesting to say the least. I think most people would consider our dynamic complicated, but to us it’s quite simple.

I give him a good, hard squeeze around his midsection. “Augh, Kras I’ve missed you.”

He reciprocates the squeeze and places a kiss atop my head. “I missed you too.”

I pull away with a smile and smack his arm, “You don’t text me enough! I didn’t even know your tour ended.”

“Me? The phone works both ways Miss ‘You know I’m busy’” He mocks me jokingly.

“God, I forget how strong your Aussie accent is in person.” I chuckle, diverting the conversation.

I shiver at the ice-cold chill I get from his AC and rub my arms for warmth.

“Fuck it’s cold as shit in here.” It’s so frigid even my teeth chatter.

“Yeah, sorry I like it freezing. You want a jacket or something?” He offers then crosses the room when I nod.

He picks through some clothes in an open suitcase and hands me a multicolored flannel. I pull the flannel over my arms letting the material engulf my body.

After a brief catching up about tour and life, I lean against the wall and cross my arms.

“So, what is it you wanted to talk about.” I cut straight to it.

He bites down on his lip, and I can’t tell if he’s excited or nervous.

Maybe both, maybe neither.

“We need a manager.” He blurts out.

“Oh? I thought you were working with-”

“We want you Val.”

I laugh, because surely, he can’t be serious. I don’t belong to an agency and work my two clients freelance, all on my own. There’s no way I could take on another band, especially one as successful as Chase on top of the other two.

“What? No, no, I absolutely couldn’t manage you guys…”

He steps towards me and trails his fingers down my arms and hooks onto my hands. “Sure you can. You used to, remember?”

I shake my head, “Oh, you know that doesn’t count Christian. We were nobodies – you were nobodies. Of course I could manage your measly little 10,000 Instagram followers.”

He squeezes my hands and tugs on my arms. “C’mon Val. It’ll be like the good old days. It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know about you, but living in a tiny LA apartment with three men struggling to afford food wasn’t really that good or fun.”

He rolls his eyes and tugs on my arms again. “For old times’ sake?”

I shake my head, “No, no, I already have enough on my plate. I just took on another band not that long ago.”

“Please Val, for us?” His brows curve up, and he gives me the biggest hazel puppy dog eyes that he knows I can’t say no to. “For me?”

I groan and rest my head back against the wall. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

His hands leave mine and find their way to my hips, slipping under the flannel so his hands are holding onto bare skin between my tank and my sweats. His forehead presses against mine.

“Is there anything I can do to help change that answer?” He asks between the small space separating us while his finger traces my jaw line tilting my chin up a bit.

I tug at my lip – this is partially why I came here right? To nip my Nick problem in the bud, to break the dickmatization spell.

“I don’t know, maybe.” I tease up at him with round eyes.

“Hm.” He hums and leans in, pressing a kiss to my lips and I freeze.

Even though we’ve done this a million times before, it just feels wrong now. Nicholas and I aren’t even… anything, we’re just fucking, right? But it still feels odd.

I know this feeling.

And I know what it means.

Fuck.

I pull away and give a little head shake.

“Plum?” He asks using our code word for when we’re interested in or dating someone else.

I groan loudly, shuffle past him to his bed in the studio apartment and dramatically fall flat, face down onto it. Then let out an even louder, longer groan.

He walks over and gently sits criss-cross on the bed next to me.

“Must be a pretty good Plum to have you like this.”

Our friendship was simple. We’re the rare example that a friends-with-benefits can be truly, purely platonic and casual. Kras is a generally affectionate guy, even with his bandmates. And he is one of the only people I feel comfortable being affectionate with, so I let myself be affectionate with him.

We are platonically affectionate best friends who fuck when we’re single. It sounds impossible but it’s who we are and who we have been for almost 10 years. 

It’s nice, cozy, and convenient. Easy.

He’s safe, familiar, and reliable.

Which is more than I can say for any friendship or relationship I’ve ever had.

I turn my head towards him still flat against the bed.

“It’s bad Kras.”

“How bad?”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I work with him.”

His eyes widen. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“…In the band you were talking about?”

I turn back to hide my face in his duvet. “Oh yeah.”

“Val noooo.”

I chuckle at how his ‘no’s sound like ‘naaauur’s.

“I knooow.” I whine into the sheets.

“Singer?”

I shake my head against the duvet.

“Guitarist?”

“Bassist.” I reply muffled in bedding.

“Oof.”

A laugh escapes me at his reaction. I pop my head up at him, “Stop, I know.”

I pull myself up and cross the bed to sit next to him and lay my head on his shoulder.

“Maybe I just really like his dick.” I state confidently staring out the large window across the room. I blankly watch the daytime city lights flicker across the highrise-littered skyline.

“You think so?” He asks looking down at me a little. “I’ve never seen you get like this over just good dick. You’re pretty cut and dry about like…emotions. You’re good at separating sex from feelings.” He laughs and nudges me. “That’s why we work so well.”

I groan and hide my face in his shoulder because I know he’s right. He’s always right when it comes to shit like this.

“He sang to me Kras.”

“Oh god…was he any good?”

I feel my cheeks heat up and I nod against his arm, “It was so pretty.”

He laughs and tickles my side, “Look at you! You’re smitten! I never thought I’d see the day.”

I grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it, “Shut up!” then fall back flat and cover my face with it.

There’s a silence between us for a bit, a million things running through my mind, but Kras speaks for me.

“You know you can’t love him, right?” He says gently.

My brows furrow immediately, I slam the pillow down and shoot straight up.

“WHOA, whoa whoa.” I cut through the air with my hand. “Nobody ever said anything about…the L word. I do not…love him.” I can barely get the word out as if it’s something forbidden. “I barely fucking know him. I just like his dick.”

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in defense. “You can’t like him. You know that right?”

“I don’t even know if I like him. We’re just fucking. That’s all.”

He glares at me with a face that screams, ‘yeah right’. “Well, fine, you know you can’t keep fucking him.”

I let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I thought coming here to fuck you would help.”

He laughs then tapers off in thought.

“Maybe we don’t actually have to fuck in order to help.” He suggests.

I raise a brow at him, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean… guys normally don’t just sing to girls they’re casually hooking up with.”

“Okay…?” I motion for him to keep going.

“So, if it comes up or anything, you could just lie.” He shrugs.

“Lie about what?”                             

“About like, fucking someone else. If he likes you enough to sing to you, he probably won’t be happy if you tell him you’re fucking someone else. So, he’ll stop trying to fuck you.”

I chew on my thumbnail in thought, he’s right. Like always.

“Maybe. I don’t really know if he’d even care. We never really talking about anything… I thought we just had a silent agreement about just fucking, he never said anything about-”

“He sang to you Val.”

I anxiously twirl the ends of my ponytail and chew on my bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

He gives me the most ‘are you for real’ glare.

“Okay, okay.” I deflate. “IF it comes up, I’ll mention something.”

“Just don’t say who I am. I don’t know him, he could beat my ass." He laughs. "Plus, it would be pretty awkward for him to find out that you’re fucking a hot guitarist from your other band.” He smirks cheekily.

“Shut up.” I elbow his side playfully, “I never said yes.”

“But you will.”

I chew on my lip thinking it over.

On one hand, I’m already insanely busy and overworked with the two artists I’m already managing.

On the other hand, as odd as they are, they are old and close friends of mine. It wouldn’t be like managing strangers or learning a whole new fanbase, I helped build the foundation of the one they have now back in 2014.

And it would be a good distraction.

If this plan works out with Nick, maybe I could move on from Plum status and I can actually focus on my job.

“Fine. I’ll do it. BUT,” I hold a finger pointed towards him menacingly, “ONLY temporarily.”

“Ah yes! I knew you would!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around me and tackling me to the bed, pressing various ‘thank you’ kisses to my cheek.

“Okay, okay enough.” I chuckle trying to escape his grasp.

-NICHOLAS-

I let a long sigh at the bottom of the stairs, shifting my weight between both feet. I tap my fingers on the wooden railing anxiously. I probably shouldn’t be this rattled over something I’ve done a million times before. But it doesn’t get any easier.

I push myself up the stairs in one driving force knowing that it has to be me. It’s always me.

Never Folio. Never Jolly.

It’s always been my job.

There’s no response when I knock on Noah’s bedroom door.

I knock again, no answer.

I knock again, no answer.

So, I let myself in.

As expected, Noah’s passed out with a fresh bottle of whiskey half drank on his nightstand. His room still in as much filth as it’s been for a while. For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve only ever seen his room even remotely messy a handful of times, and this is the worst I’ve ever seen it. In the past I’ve known the reasons behind the mess or the drinking – usually over a breakup or some depression spell – but this time he kept me in the dark. I have no fucking clue what's going on with him.

If I wasn’t so aggravated with him already, the mess of the room would worry me even more than I already am.

I cross the threshold of garbage between the door and his bed and pat his cheek awake.

“Noah.”

Sleepy snores tumble from his mouth and while one might find them endearing, right now, they’re pissing me the fuck off.

“Noah.” I say more sternly, nudging him more. No luck.

I try various other ways, and nothing works. He’s out cold.

So, I try a tried-and-true classic.

I climb on top of him and straddle his waist over the duvet, one knee at each side of his hips. His boney exposed shoulders offer a great anchor so I grab them, shaking him awake.

He comes-to slowly, droopy heavy lids struggling to open. His fist goes to rub his tired eye but winces when he’s reminded of the swollen black and blue that surrounds it.  

“The fuck are you doing?” He groans, stealing a pillow from beside him to cover his face. “Get off of me.”

I snatch the pillow from his grasp and toss it across the room. “No. You’re going to get up. You’re going to shower. And I’m taking you to a meeting.”

He shields his eyes with his arm. “I’m-I’m fine Nick, don’t need a meeting.” His words slurring together.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” I correct.

“I don’t need a meeting.” He hiccups and I can smell the alcohol radiating off him, seeping through his skin. “I’m not going. I'm just gonna sleep.”

I grab his wrists, pin them to the bed and get low to his face. “Oh you’re going. We’re gonna sober you up, starting with a shower.” I pull off him and stand beside the bed.

“Let’s go. C’mon.”

“No.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way has the same result. Let’s go.”

“No.”

I sigh, even though I knew it would end up like this. “Fine. Hard way it is.”

I yank the sheets off him and use two arms to scoop up his body by his midsection and throw him over my shoulder. He’s thin enough to where even I can lift and carry him easily – or maybe I’ve just gotten used to the weight of him in my arms.

“Nick let me fucking go.” He whines but doesn’t try to wiggle out of my grasp, probably too hungover to move that much.

With every bit of my strength, I carry his thin body to his guest bathroom.

I all but toss him into the shower, start the water, and fling the curtain closed.

“Hey! What the fuck!” He yells and shuts off the water immediately.

He slings the curtain open and snatches a towel off the nearest rack, wrapping it around his shirtless torso.

“What the fuck is your problem, Nicholas!” His hands frantically wipe the water from his face. 

I let out a frustrated groan and turn to leave. "Stop being a baby." 

He steps out of the tub and calls after me, “Hey, I’m not fucking done talking to you!”

The shower shock did exactly what I needed it to do, sober him up, but now I regret even waking him up.

“My problem is that you’re a fucking drunk Noah.” I snap turning back to him.

“I’m not a fucking drunk, I have it under control. You’re just fucking paranoid!” He steps into the hallway dripping water all over the carpet.

“I’m not fucking paranoid, Noah. I’m not letting you drink yourself to oblivion.”

His brows lift in offense, “Let me? What the fuck are you, my fucking keeper?”

“Sometimes it sure fucking feels like I am!” The words escape me before I can stop them.

He chuckles in disbelief, “Well, nobody fucking asked you to be.”

“It doesn’t matter if anyone asked me to, I have to because who the fuck else is gonna pick your sorry, bruised ass off a bar floor in the middle of the fucking day?” My hand helps exaggerate each word.

“Jolly or Folio would’ve.” He sasses, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah? And how long you think they’d put up with that?” I step closer to him. “Not for as long as I have, that’s for fucking sure.”

His eyes scrunch together like he’s hurt or offended.

Maybe both,

Maybe neither.

“I won’t let you push out everyone in our lives Noah.”

His eyes land on me and he cocks his head to the right a bit like a dog processing a foreign noise.

“‘Push out everyone in our lives’ is that what this is actually about? Alice?”

My gaze locks on him and my hands curl into tight fists at my sides. There are many words I want to say but none seem able to leave my tongue.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious.” He steps back and points defensively at me. "I didn't push her out, you did!" 

My blood boils and burns as it courses through my veins. My eyes narrow at him.

“I know you fucked her Noah.” I shove my finger so hard into his chest that it nearly knocks him back.

“I didn’t even like her Nick! Why the fuck would I fuck her?” He immediately denies.

“Because you always have to have everything you want, including the things that aren’t yours.”

“‘Things’” He scoffs. “Funny how you’re so upset about someone you only see as a thing.”

My teeth grind so hard it makes my jaw clench, “You know she was never a thing to me until you fucked her.”

“Oh, give it a break Nicholas! Stop blaming me for her leaving.” His hands exaggerate his words then points straight at me. “You are the reason your relationship failed. You are the reason she left.”

My eyes narrow as I step closer to his soaked body. “I would really watch what you fucking say if I were you.”

“Or what?” He asks but I have no answer. “When are you going to stop punishing me for something I never fucking did?”

I watch his eyes: dark brown, heavy, bloodshot, and one lined with a dark bruise from the bar fight. His words sound genuine, but I know his eyes, I know them like the back of my hand.

I know when he’s lying, and he’s lying to me right now. I can’t prove it, I haven’t been able to, but I know he’s been lying to me for the past year.

“For the love of god Noah, can you just stop fucking lying?” I snap. "You don't even have enough respect for me to tell me the truth?"

“Wow.” He presses his lips together for a moment. “You must think so low of me to really believe that I would do something like that.”

“I don’t have to think low of you to believe the truth.” I hiss, stepping towards him. “But you’re going to keep denying it so it’s irrelevant what I believe did or didn’t happen. What I do know, is that you have a fucking problem, and you need help.”

He steps towards me with low brows and narrow beady eyes, “I didn’t fuck Alice and I don’t need a fucking alcohol anonymous meeting just because I still like to get drunk sometimes. I am a fucking adult, and I don’t need you to ‘save me’.” He scoffs and runs his tongue across his teeth. “You know? Maybe that’s what actually drove Alice away, you and your fucking high-and-mighty, savior complex bullshit.”

Every inch of skin on my body feels like its burning and my heart races so loud I can barely even think clearly. I tighten my fists so tight that my nails dig into my palms painfully. I know that if I do anything, it will make me look like the villain.

“I can’t fucking hit you because if I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” I growl lowly. “Get sober or don’t, I don’t fucking care anymore – but we have a chance, a real chance at making it now and if you ruin this for us Noah, I will never fucking forgive you. Do you understand me? I will fucking destroy you if you fuck this up for us.”

His brows curve up and he looks at me like I’m insane for insinuating that he would. “I won’t.” He replies through gritted teeth.

I glance over the railing when I hear the house beginning to stir with Jolly and Folio starting to wake up, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I don’t need them getting involved.

“Just,” I lower my voice between us. “Make it to rehearsals, meetings, shows – the rest I don’t give a fuck. Just make it to work. Sober.”

“Fine.” He says quickly, "If that will keep you out of my fucking business and leave me the fuck alone."

"Fine."

"Fine." He repeats, because of course he has to have the last word, before storming off to his room and slamming the door behind him.

I mirror him, making it to my room and slamming the door.

Once alone, the feeling that courses through my body is nauseating, painful and overwhelming. It is a visceral ache, I feel it twisting in my chest first, in my ribs, then flows and pools in the pit of my stomach.

I thought I moved on from the Alice situation. I tried to force myself to believe him, I tried to forget and push it so far down that it wouldn’t hurt. Tried to rationalize, maybe he didn’t sleep with her. Maybe he didn’t betray me. Maybe it really is just me projecting the weaknesses of our relationship onto him. But no matter how hard I push it down, it always bubbles back up.

And in my gut, I know he did it. Everything adds up, the timelines, the behavior, all of it.

I was just never prepared for a girlfriend to cheat on me with my best friend. I was never prepared to have him sleep with my girlfriend. Not after everything we’ve been through.

I was never prepared to have my heart broken by the two people I trusted and loved more than anything in my life.

In retrospect, I guess, I should’ve expected it. For as long as I can remember Noah always had girls fawning all over him. He always had that lead singer charm even though he never planned on being a frontman. Girls were never an issue for him, he seemed to get anyone he ever wanted.

Is it really that far-fetched that the one I had wanted him too?

Is that all that this is going to be from now on? Any girl the rest of us want, would just want Noah first?

I never pictured that this would be our future.

I never pictured my best friend of over a decade fucking my girlfriend then lying about it to my face.

I never pictured having to drag said lying, alcoholic best friend out of bed trying to get him to an AA meeting just so he could be sober enough for rehearsals.

I never imagined that out of the four of us, it would be me having to hold it all together. I never signed up for that. I signed up to play an instrument, to sign CDs, sleep in busses and sit in interviews. I never signed up to play manager, I never signed up to secretly scrape Noah off bar floors, be his personal caretaker and tentative AA sponsor. Doing all of that just to have it thrown in my face, to stand next to him – every day in rehearsals, in photoshoots, on stage, across the fucking dining table – knowing what he did and pretending that I’m okay with it.

I never thought I’d feel stuck in this band, this thing Noah and I have worked on and dreamed about since we were 15. I’ve poured so much of my life into this fucking band.

I can’t just up and leave. I’d have nothing left. I’d be nothing without them and I can’t be the bomb to blow us up. Especially not now when everything is just starting to take off. All this work would’ve been for nothing.

It’s not just my livelihood and dream, but theirs as well. I can’t do that to them.

And as much as I want to, as much as I’ve tried, I can’t leave Noah. We both know I’m right whether he wants to admit it or not. Nobody else would do what I do, nobody knows what I do, and nobody knows how to take care of him the way I do. He’s stubborn and stupid and won’t let anyone else in the way he’s let me in.

I don’t know why I’m the only one who has gotten the curse of his trust, but I have it and I can’t hand it off or set it down – no matter how heavy or suffocating it is.

Next Chapter -> 11 - Peak Fashion

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo @thebadchic @the-hell-i-overcame @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @cncohshit @dominuslunae [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N: The love for this story has honestly been so overwhelming (in a good way obv) and I couldn't be more grateful. I really thought this would flop lol so, thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to comments/asks but i still love them 🥺)