#so i've been gnashing my teeth about that for months and months

[mxcottonsocks]

A collection: times Mortimer Lightwood is described as being 'founded on' Eugene Wrayburn:

Despite that pernicious assumption of lassitude and indifference, which had become his second nature, [Mortimer] was strongly attached to his friend. He had founded himself upon Eugene when they were yet boys at school; and at this hour imitated him no less, admired him no less, loved him no less, than in those departed days.

Mortimer parries thus, with a sense upon him that elsewhere it is Eugene and not he who is the jester, and that in these circles where Eugene persists in being speechless, he, Mortimer, is but the double of the friend on whom he has founded himself.

‘You wanted to tell me something, Eugene. My poor dear fellow, you wanted to say something to your old friend—to the friend who has always loved you, admired you, imitated you, founded himself upon you, been nothing without you, and who, God knows, would be here in your place if he could!’

To whom, add Mortimer Lightwood, coming in among them with a reassumption of his old languid air, founded on Eugene, and belonging to the days when he told the story of the man from Somewhere.

[ineffabildaddy]

on today's episode of understanding good omens through my own life:

a story about my ineffable inevitable queer teenage experience with an intense, volatile, fiercely affectionate 'friendship' that was definitely not just a friendship in retrospect.

when i was eleven, i started secondary school, and i met a girl who quickly became my best friend (i'm a trans man, and i also understood myself as a girl at the time. i still understand myself as a girl at that time). we became known as a unit because we couldn't get enough of each other, and we did absolutely everything together.

on the first day of our second year, we saw each other for the first time in several weeks because she had been away in her home country that summer. i had been counting down the seconds until she came back. when she was in the process of giving out souvenirs from her trip to all our friends, she waited until she saw i was alone and approached me. she handed me a ziploc bag full of shells and rock fragments.

"i picked these out for you at the beach," she said.

i thanked her and asked her to show me the bags of shells she'd made up for the others.

"i didn't do this for the others. i only did it for you," she responded, and walked away.

i had never felt anything like what i felt in that moment, and i haven't since. i was a lonely kid, especially before that age. what i mean to say is... no one had ever done anything just for me. no one had ever thought of me when i wasn't there; no one had ever taken the time to give me something that they had so carefully picked out; no one had ever stated with such conviction, in what was said or what was unsaid, that what they had done for me was not to be enjoyed by anyone else.

i like to remember this when i try to understand this moment in good omens:

i can't begin to comprehend what aziraphale must have felt in that moment, but remembering that day of my own life is the closest thing i've got.

mere months after that day, we started to argue. we had a huge falling out. i told her that no one on earth was capable of hurting me quite like she was (thirteen year-old me, in her own twisted way, thought that was a compliment). she told me in no uncertain terms that she couldn't stand me. we stopped talking.

a few months after that, we reconciled and we became closer than ever, but that tension, that unrest, was always lying under the surface, just waiting to gnash its teeth - and sometimes it did. these were also the years in which we were discovering our queer identities, and it took us a long time to really understand each other's journeys in that regard.

at sixteen, we both left our school and moved to a different institution till we graduated at eighteen. though we were at the same sixth form college, we just had different lives and didn't hang out anymore, though we remained on good terms. now, we text every once in a while, and we always say we'll meet up, but we never do. in october of last year, i bumped into her for the first time in maybe four years while coming home from a pavement gig. she was sitting on the doorstep of her parents' place with a roll-up cigarette. it was like no time had passed.

looking back, i can say with full confidence that i was in love with her. i do not know how else to understand our relationship. she drove me up the wall the way she did because i had never felt anything like what i felt for her for anyone else - and i haven't to this day.

even now, every time she is even mentioned in conversation, i dream about her the night following. and i still have those shells, hidden away in a wooden box i've never shown anyone; it's not too far from the shoebox that contains every note she ever passed me, every doodle she ever drew for me, every card she ever wrote me. in other words, i was permanently altered by our relationship, and her absence from my life has never diminished that. the same can naturally be said of crowley and aziraphale, to a much, much greater extent. i relive my memories of us because they help me understand many things about myself and others, and i've recently found that good omens has encouraged this.

this ended up longer than i intended but i hope you got something out of it.<3

[venturethroughtheveil]

Beyond The Pines [Pt. I]

[Series description: Two years ago, dad died from cancer, leaving you to raise your younger sister, Vivian, alone. Your best friend, Ellie, was one of the few support systems you had until your feelings for her seemingly put a strain on your relationship. When Vivian goes missing, can you trust Ellie to help bring her back?]

[Author comments: I've put together an audio to go play along as you read. Voices are *ALL* AI-generated using ElevenLabs. I did not include Y/N's voice in order to preserve your own inner dialogue. This series will be slow-burn, and will have smut and graphic depictions of violence. 18+ only.]

[Credit to Youtube Channels Ambient City (horse stables); Hursty Outdoors (walking/snow); Music: Gustavo Santaolalla (Opening Suite; Longing; Unbound)]

Be sure to expand the audio to play from the beginning!

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

You slipped a glove off, braving the winter chill to scavenge your jacket pockets.

Sugar cube.

A rare commodity for your generation; you were lucky to find a small box of them while scavenging a ravaged coffee shop. You twiddled the rock-hard substance between your thumb and index, anything to dissociate from the girls’ conversation. Something about Dina falling into a pile of shit; you tried not to smile at that.

Fresh, powdered snow crunched beneath the heel of your boots. The warm glow of faerie lights danced across the ground at the stable’s entrance. 

Jackson was quiet. Peaceful. Safe. A stark contrast from the nightmarish infected and worse – bandits – roaming the mountains outside town limits.

They pass you.

“C’mere, Phantom,” The sleek, black mare whinnied and happily trotted into her refuge, “my pretty girl.”

She was a young horse, strong, with a spitfire nature. You had that in common.

When you weren’t on duty, you and Ellie used to race her and Shimmer on Cirque Trail, stopping to stuff your pockets full of wild huckleberries, which Joel made into killer pies. You frowned at the thought.

Gently, you threaded your hands through Phantom’s mane, silently thanking her for keeping you safe another day.

"Because you've been so good today," you murmur, presenting the sugar cube in a cupped hand. Immediately, Phantom gnashes it between her teeth, nose flaring.

Her face is just too comical. You laugh, wiping the slobber from your palms on your worn blue jeans.

The shrill creak of another stable door shutting disrupts the moment. Dina laughs at something Ellie says.

“Night, Ellie.”

From your peripheral, you see the woman leave.

The last six hours of patrol were miserable, from the clutch of infected you cleared to the dry dialogue between you and your friends.

Well, you were friends until three months ago at the town dance when you watched Ellie and Dina kiss. At this, you passed your glass of whiskey off to an equally dumbfounded Jesse and walked straight out of the hall, tears pricking your eyes and bile rising in your throat.

Beyond patrols with them– which, despite your pleas, Maria continued to schedule, likely to force a reconciliation – you hadn’t talked to either since.

Apart from working well together, you and Dina weren’t inseparable, so avoiding her has been relatively easy. On the other hand, avoiding Ellie, your ex-best friend, has been excruciating. No matter how hard she tried – showing up at your door in the dead of night to beg you to come outside, leaving joints on your windowsill, landing snowballs square in the back of your head – Ellie couldn’t get more than cut-and-dry responses out of you.

Eventually, she stopped trying.

Part of you was embarrassed at your childish behavior, but you couldn’t face her, not after that night.

You closed the latch to Phantom’s stable, hyper-aware of the forest green eyes that bore into your side profile.

Without a word, you make your way over toward Mike, who was on duty tonight.

“Hey - thanks again for picking up a shift so short notice, Y/N,” he gave you a sympathetic smile, “with the horde that’s passing through, we can’t be too careful.”

‘Bullshit. This is all Maria.’

“Sure, don’t mention it” Your tone was casual, but irritation and exhaustion were etched into your features. Desperate to go home and avoid Ellie – who was clearly waiting for you, you quickly scribbled in the logbook.

‘Four runners + three clickers in Tetonia. Cleared.’

You said goodnight to Mike and walked straight past the freckled girl. She was propped up against the stable entrance, brows furrowed and lips in a tight line. She looked tired.

“Uh - hey...”

You keep walking.

“…okay…”

‘Fuck off,’ you wanted to say. Instead, you shook your head and gripped your backpack tighter, eyes unable to meet hers.

No more stargazing with her. No more all-nighters snuggled up watching cheesy 1980s horror films. No more spitballing ideas for her next set of tattoos – a rabbit skull; an arrow; the numbers 000129 – she never explained that one; an ouroboros. No more. You had bigger things to worry about.

She made her choice, and it wasn’t you.

‘UGH,’ Your face scrunched up in a cringe.

She could have at least told you. While her head was in your lap – your fingers gently combing her auburn locks to the soft tune of Johnny Cash’s Hurt filling your bedroom – she was dreaming of Dina the whole time.

And you could have it all, my empire of dirt.

I will let you down.

I will make you hurt.

Heat bloomed across your face in embarrassment. You never told Ellie that you loved her – that you were in love with her – hell, you didn’t even understand it until you saw them lock lips at the dance. Now, you were cursed to watch them fall in love while you self-isolated and grew more bitter by the day.

The walk home was about thirty minutes from the stables. A good chunk of land on the outskirts of Jackson that's been in the family for generations.

Hopefully, your sister wasn’t asleep. You needed to vent.

‘If I walk fast, I’ll probably get home at 10ish.’

Fragrant pine and earth filled your frost-nipped nostrils. Even with your heavy parka, and thick, fur-lined boots, the cold settled deep in your bones. Without a flashlight, seeing your hands in front of your face would be impossible. It was that dark out.

The metal of your keys stung your battered hands. You became keenly aware of something behind you as you turned the lock. No need to reach for your pistol; it was obvious who was in your driveway.

‘How the fuck did I not notice her?’

“So, you’re stalking me now?” Without turning around, you tapped the heel of your boots against the worn, wooden deck to knock off the snow. You then kneeled to untie them. “Go home, El.” There was an authority in your voice.

Footsteps approached, crunching through the snow. 

“Maybe I’m not here to see you,” Ellie shrugged, “maybe I’m here to see Vivian.”

“I really doubt that.”

You turned and looked up at her, batting snowflakes from your lashes. It was the first time you’d really studied her face in weeks.

Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, cheeks hollow as if she’d not slept or eaten, yet, with that constellation of freckles smattered across her face, the deep forest green of her eyes, those lips, she was still the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen, more beautiful than any model from those Vogue magazines your sister collects.

“You look like shit.” You lied.

“Gee, thanks.” A smile tugged at the corner of Ellie’s lips. “Can I come in? It’s cold as shit out here.”

You hesitated; time seemingly slowed as you studied her. Ellie’s eyes met yours, unwavering. That stupid cocky smirk was still etched into her face.

“Take your shoes off,” you conceded. “Don’t track horse shit into my house.”

Family pictures, odds and ends from your grandparents’ vacations to Maine, and cheesy words of affirmation your mother hung years ago adorned the entrance of your home. It wasn’t your style, but it felt wrong to take them down.

Ellie’s eyes traveled around the room, searching for changes.

The cabin was simply too spacious for just Vivian and yourself. Two stories tall, there were four rooms and three baths. Maria has scheduled to move incoming residents downstairs sometime next month. This angered you more than Viv. This was your family’s home, and you certainly didn’t want strangers sleeping in what once was your parents’ bedroom. You didn’t have any say in the matter.

Your younger sister, on the other hand, was enthusiastic. For her, it was ‘too quiet,’ being just the two of you. You couldn’t really blame her, though. Most interactions between you since your dad’s passing have stuck to mostly your venting about patrols and Maria and all the house repairs needed. Vivian would talk about her newest boyfriend – if you can even call them that – the boys never lasted more than a month.

Dad passed two years ago from cancer.

It was a devastating loss to both of you, but you especially had little time to grieve. Vivian was just 14 at the time. She’d started supervised patrols with Jesse only one week prior. Dad was proud.

When everything went to shit, you took extra patrols to cover Viv’s duties. You did this for a few reasons, to let her have the chance to be a kid and grieve, to provide for your baby sister, and to avoid facing the reality of your situation. You two were alone in the world, and you weren’t ready to raise a 14-year-old.

Ellie made the extra effort to be there for you both. She’d walk Vivian to school and training, cook dinner, and often help with chores. She’d spend ration coupons on old, crumbling makeup or cheap-smelling candles that your sister adored.

It wouldn’t be totally out of character for Ellie to walk all this way to check on Viv, not at this hour, though, and you both knew it.

‘So why did you let her in?’

You set your shoes down at the entrance, inviting Ellie to do the same. The grandfather clock in the adjacent dining room read 10:13 pm.

“I’ll tell Vivian you’re here. I’m gonna head to bed –“

“Come on, Y/N,” Ellie grabs your arm, “I can’t live like this anymore. You don’t answer the door, you won’t talk to me,” she grips you tighter, “you won’t even fucking look at me.”

Her touch burned your skin. You try to yank back your hand to no avail. She was much stronger than you.

“I fucking miss you, I miss my best fucking friend, and I don’t even know what I did wrong.” Her eyes are pleading, desperate.

“Let go of me, asshole,” you demand in a whisper-yell. “you’re gonna fucking wake Viv.”

But it was useless; Ellie’s eyes were determined, glossy, as if she were on the verge of tears.

She pulls you closer to her, chest pressed against yours, and you’re sure she can feel your heartbeat pounding out of your ribcage. This is too close. Intimately close.

“Talk to me. Say what you need to say.” She demands. “yell at me, hit me – anything – so we can move on and pretend you haven’t been acting fucking insane the last few months.”

Her lips are too close to yours.

“Don’t make me.” Your voice was small, eyes welling with tears. Emotions that had been bottled for the past three months. It was your turn to beg. Beg her not to do this. Not here, not ever. All you wanted was to grieve the loss of your friendship and move on so you could get your shit together for your sister. There was no room for weakness in your life anymore. Cutting her off is easier than a painful rejection.

Ellie’s eyes searched yours for an answer, and her lips were pulled in a frown.

“I need to know, Y/N.”

‘Don’t do it.’

You weren’t the best at impulse control. It was a trait you got from mom, something you thought you’d begun to improve at. But the body heat between you, the desperation in Ellie’s eyes, and her nails digging into your now-bare shoulders were too much.

Ellie’s lips were chapped compared to yours. Salty from the tears that had flown moments prior. The kiss was innocent, sad. Your lips moved gently against her still ones. This wasn’t how you dreamt it happening.

The kiss was over as soon as it began.

Ellie pulled back, freeing you from her iron grip. You both stood there, facing each other for an eternity. The grandfather clock ticked loudly.

She looked dumbstruck, cheeks blooming red, and it wasn’t from the cold.

“Shit”

White-hot shame finally engulfed you as you realized what you’d just done.

‘So much for self-control.’

Without another word, you grabbed the jacket at your feet and rushed upstairs, two steps at a time.

Part of you wanted to seek refuge in your sister’s room, cuddle up, and cry into her shoulder like when you were kids and mom and dad would have screaming matches downstairs. Instead, you barged into your room and locked the door behind you.

Ellie doesn't follow.

[aylish91]

Ok so you are one of my favorite writers and I've been wanting to request this for awhile but wanted to wait until you aren't bombarded

Can you write a small drabble of either reaper or error or both giving cuddles (or whatever you think they'd give sense error has hephophobia and in some au's reaper kills what he touches) or them just comforting reader

No worries if not, I hope you have an amazing day and your work always makes me smile and I look forward to seeing what you post :)

Aaawe! Thank you so much! It makes me so happy that you like my writing!

I made an Error drabble for you! Somehow cuddles also turned into confessions though, so I hope that's okay. I will have to drag out my Reaper boy after I get the other requests done for ya.

I'm sure he would love to come out and play~ ; )

Confessions

~ ~ ~

“Hey, Error?”

The only indication your friend had heard you were the huff of air and sideways glance he sent your way.

You were tired. So very very tired. You tried not to lean more into his side.

“Sometimes, when I look at you, I just want... I just want to kiss you. You make living in this dying world worth it.” When all was silent except for the increasing buzz of glitches, you pressed forward to put the metaphorical nail in your coffin.

“I think I love you.”

A choking sound.

“W-w-wHaT?!

You fell asleep to the sound of one of his stuttering crashes. You didn’t want to think about how embarrassing your admission was. You hadn’t even bothered to look at him the whole time you had sleepily drawled your confession. You knew he wouldn’t feel the same, the guy only used this place to vent and hide away for a bit. But, you needed to get it off your chest. Your world was on its last leg and there was no telling if you’d ever get another chance before it all ended.

Perhaps that had been a mistake.

…

One month, three days.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him for one month and three days.

It hurt, but a part of you was almost glad. It saved you from whatever rejection he was going to come up with. As it was, you doubted it even mattered. Your world had finally given out. The void was calling, and no man was going to stop it from claiming what it was owed.

Everything felt disembodied and heavy as reality disappeared around you. All you could do was close your eyes one last time and sleep, knowing full well there would be no tomorrow to wake up to.

At least near the end, you had someone who made it worth it.

…

“p-PiX-xeL-L-l !!!”

…

Warmth was the first thing that you took note of. A pleasant, perfect warmth. The kind that makes you never want to move again because you and the universe had aligned while you’d slept. The next thing you noticed was the rhythmic rise and fall going on beneath you. It was enough to ignore it for a while, but eventually, your confused curiosity got the better of you. Stirring, you opened your eyes and looked around.

Everything was glaringly white as far as the eye could see outside of the little area you were in. Familiar blue strings draped down in droves around you, some connected to little skeleton dolls, while others held glowing cartoonish hearts. Looking down, you found you were sunk into a giant bean bag chair. But that wasn’t all.

Directly beneath you, without your usual blanket barrier, was your missing bone friend. He had you pressed against his chest, one hand on your back while the other rested on your waist. It was the first time in the whole history of your friendship that you had ever had so much of yourself touching him.

Your heart thudded within your chest. Glancing up at his face, you froze.

Error, the Destroyer, stared down at you, yawning then... pulling you... closer...

“Either get up, or stop move-moving, Pixel.”

…

Pixel?

You were so confused!

Where were the angry glitchy shouts? Where was the gnashing of teeth while he pushed you away? Where were the threats of violence and death or those tight blue strings?

He sighed, looking away. “Don’t think-k-k about it. I only saved you out of bor-ordom.”

Of course! You were alive! Gaping back, emotion squeezed at your chest. 

“You saved-but what about… you said…"

His grip tightened, an annoyed growl rumbling in his chest. “I changed my mind! It’s n-n-not like I LoVe yOu too.”

Oh. Oh!

It all clicked.

Pressing your face back against his chest, you clung to him with the goofiest of grins, your overjoyed laughter muffled by the soft fabric of his sweater. “You dumb stupid bastard.”

“Hey!”

“Never change.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say or do with that, quietly letting you finish laughing while he slowly relaxed back into the bean bag. You in turn melted more into him, knowing now he was more than okay with you. 

You wanted to laugh more, maybe even cry as you absorbed all that was him.

Error had other ideas.

After a long while of silence, he took a steadying breath, shakily lifting a hand to slowly run his fingers through your hair. You let him, enjoying the closeness and sensation it left on your scalp. You were glad he seemed more than content with your cuddle pile.

It was enough to almost lull you back to sleep until you caught his soft muttering above you. 

“…You’re… soft.”

It made you giggle again, allowing yourself to snuggle even further into his warmth. “Thank you. I love you too.”

You could feel more than see as a surplus of error symbols formed around him and his face glowed. “I, you-ou-ou! Shut up!”

You only smiled up at him.

Life was going to be quite the adventure from this moment on. 

You couldn’t wait to share it with him.

[beanibon]

I've been reading your publications lately! I love them all!

And I read your time list, I saw that you write about kaisen jujutsu too, but then I thought, wow, a crossover between kaisen jujutsu and Trigun would be cool.

ANDSo, you could write a reader that could possibly be gojo's sister and accidentally during a battle against a curse, the reader stops in norman's land, Since it would be cool to see the reaction of Vash, Knives and Nicholas with the reader who is a Jujutsu sorcerer

Ooooooh! Absolutely, I haven't watched JJK in a hot minute and I need to rewatch for the newest season so if some of my terminology is a bit wonky I do apologise in advance.

Warnings: Not any really, maybe some blood warning in Knives part cause he's Knives. And maybe an asshole warning for Knives too.

Context: reader has a curse that allows her to bring certain fake replicas from other dimensions through, but a failed domain expansion ends them in the middle of an unknown dimension. Reader is Gojo's sister :3

Jujustu Kaisen Reader Isekai

You had convinced Gojo you could handle a Grade 1 curse by yourself, finally happy to break free from his overbearing mission babysitting. Yet your childish older brother made you pinky swear to call the moment things went belly up, but you couldn't hate the way he just wanted you to be safe. Even though it did piss you off at times.

Yet what you haven't expected was the Special Grade curse awaiting you, no Grade 1 in sight as this flailing creature of limbs and teeth gnashed its horrendous form towards you. It had you startled as you struggled against the power of the curse, yet it left no opening to call for any kind of help.

Once you managed the call, Gojo picking up instantly, you had no time to talk as excruciating pain exploded on the side of your body. That's what triggered it, the domain expansion that swallowed you and that wretched curse, worlds flashing by you as this thing screeched trying to reach you.

When the sky opened, sun bright and burning hot did the Curse flee as you descended into the sandy desert below.

You can imagine Vash's shock when you collided into him from out of nowhere, falling from the sky as crushed him under your unexpected weight.

This poor man confused, now in pain and groaning as he struggled to sit up only to realise that some oddly dressed woman faceplanted comically into his chest. What was more confusing was he was in the middle of nowhere, so your appearance was even more bizarre.

Vash was very patient the moment you gained your composure, panicking at the unfamiliar terrain, the unfamiliar man who was probably sprouting a face sized bruise on his chest.

He was very confused once you calmed enough to explain who you were and how you theorised you came here, not understanding what curses were, or domain expansions or anything that you said. Vash simply just smiled and nodded, though you knew this equivalent of a golden retriever had no clue what you were saying.

It had been a few months now since falling into the arms of your blonde companion, following Vash in his journey of constant misfortune. Every chance you got, if Vash's ridiculous bounty didn't have you scrambling away from raining bullets, you attempted to return to your home. But no matter how hard you tried it seemed as if your domain expansion just didn't want to cooperate, fizzling into existence only to dimish seconds later.

After what felt like the millionth attempt, you screamed, picking up Vash's neglected glasses and ditching them a fair way into the sandy wasteland. A sigh was heard behind you, before Vash went after his glasses, a half eaten can of stew on his hands.

For nights Vash witnessed your desperate attempts, angry tears and homesickness, he felt helpless at not being able to help. He wanted to be able to tell you that one day it'll work, but he didn't understand what these techniques of magic were, instead watching as you gave up more and more.

Brushing the sand of his signature yellow tinted lenses, the Humanoid Typhoon made his way back, stopping in front your angry, hunched over form. He crouched down, offering you an encouraging smile, flinching out at the handful of sand thrown in his face.

"What was that for?" He whined, rubbing sand from his eyes.

"I hate that you're always happy, it pisses me off! How are you so positive?" You groaned, turning away from his returning smile. At times the blonde reminded you of your older brother, Gojo Satoru, except you were thankful Gojo couldn't wield a gun for shit.

Vash shrugged, sitting back down comfortably. "I don't know, guess it just comes naturally. If it helps, I have a pretty amazing partner right now, despite how she always wants to leave my side." You knew his words were light-hearted, Vash was your biggest supporter and he did everything to make sure you could return to Tokyo.

Hands held yours, one metallic and cold, the other soft and warm. Vash pressed his glasses onto your nose gently, ruffling your hair as he stood and walked back to his abandoned meal.

Tears welled in your eyes, those stupid glasses identical to your only remaining family. And that simple action? It was exactly what Gojo did when you were frustrated, forever the best brother despite his ridiculous antics.

"Here," a half full canteen of water and warmed can of soup were held out to you, Vash's smile widening as you took them. "You'll get it eventually, but you can't do anything on an empty stomach, eat up."

A faint smile graced your lips, thanking Vash quietly as you took your share, growing use to the taste of provisions at this point.

And Vash was right, you will return home, even if was sad to leave someone as amazing as Vash behind.

Wolfwood couldn't compute the strange looking worm fleeing the scene, hideous screeches echoing across the desert plain as your form collided with the ground in a plume of course, hot sand.

Yet despite your clingy ass, he let you trail behind him like a lost puppy. Answering whatever questions with teasing falsehoods, which you believed at first... until you found out he was full of shit.

Bleeding and coughing blood, Wolfwood was tempted to just leave you to die, but something warned him against it. So that's how he became stuck with your annoying ass, wailing nonsense the moment you woke in that hospital bed. It gave Nicholas a headache.

For months you trailed behind the cross-bearing Undertaker, finding odd comfort in the way he shielded you from outlaws, throwing you out the way of gunfire.

"You do not have worms the size of skyscrapers!" You accused, glaring at the back of Wolfwood's skull as his shoulders shook in laughter. You were tired of his stories, lying to you constantly.

"I ain't lying sweetheart, we got some big ol' bugs in this world, hope you aren't queezy around them." He barked out a mocking laugh, looking back at you with that infuriating smirk of his, always paired with a crumpled cigarette.

You scoffed, arms folded over your chest as kicked sand towards him, cursing at it filled your uniforms boots. There was no point emptying it out now, it'd just make it worse. It made you wonder how Wolfwood could traverse No Man's Land in those tattered Vans.

"You're so full of shit."

Just then an sound akin to an explosion shook the ground, you instinctively leapt forward and clung to Wolfwood's arm. Sand showered down onto you two, the gigantic creature roaring as it buried itself back into the sand, disappearing.

Your body shook, eyes wide as you stared at the now soft quick sand, unaware of Nicholas's unbothered form smirking at how you latched onto him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"A worm," Wolfwood chuckled as you realised your position, releasing him instantly. "Believe me now?"

You hated to admit he was right, even after telling the truth for the first time. "So you told me the truth once, that doesn't make up for the fact you had me believing giant emu like birds are your desert horses."

Nicholas said nothing, but that damn smirk widened a centimetre and you began doubting it was false.

"You're fucking joking! Have you been telling the truth this entire time!?" Nicholas snorted, lighting another cigarette as he began walking again, leaving you to run after him.

Knives was in the middle of kidnapping a plant, when the sky opened revealing a woman desperately fighting off a hideous, snarling creature. The sight intrigued him, never before seeing that kind of worm before nor a human attempting to fend it off.

Watching boredly as your form fell, landing a distance in front of him. He was heading that way anyways, so he'd be able to assess your worth then.

When you released some kind of energy, the ball exploding against the strange worm, rendering it to a sizzling pile of flesh, Knives lips pulled into a cruel grin.

The man ignored your warnings, finding your pathetic attempts to thwart to his mission's destination infuriating. But when you persisted, begging him to turn back, that's when something sharp flew your way, finding enough strength to dodge it.

Your eyes were wide at the bladed tendril, panicked at the idea of another Special Grade Curse meeting you in this odd plain. Before you could even begin to make sense of what just happened, an ear-piercing shriek sounded from behind.

That hideous mass of limbs and teeth had finally caught up, drool dribbling down its mouths, causing the teeth to glisten at its hunger. You couldn't put up a barrier in time, body strained from the original battle and the energy it took to conjure a domain expansion. All you could do was throw weak curse techniques its way, like before to slow it down so you could flee.

Yet before you could even speak the technique, thousands of those bladed vines lashed out towards the Special Grade. Shock froze you in place, watching as blood splattered everywhere as the curse dissolved into a darkened dissipating mist.

Scared eyes turned to what you could only describe as a stronger Special Grade, fear causing you to shuffle away from the approaching Humanoid Curse.

"What are you?" His voice was angelic, full of intrigue as he towered over you.

"You should know what I am," You shrunk under his gaze, not oblivious to an inhuman power resignating from this curse. "I'm a Jujutsu Sorcerer."

"You speak as if I'm suppose to know what that is?" Those tendrils returned, flicking the blood from their reflective surface as they retreated into his spine.

"Aren't you a curse?"

"A curse?" The man scoffed out a laugh, eyes turning cruel as he leaned dangerously close. "I am a god, here to rid this planet of the plague you humans bring."

Those words sent shivers up your spine, but his words reminded you of Gojo's mocking tales of the King of Curses: Sukuna. Perhaps this man lived on his agenda, fulfilling Sukuna's orders.

"But that's not why I decided to save your pathetic, mortal life," You hadn't realised this man was still speaking, blinking up at the handsome face, free of his cloak. "I saved you because I wish for you to join me, to use this power of yours to serve me and free my brethren."

Startled as you scrambled to your feet, taking several steps back from this scarily handsome curse, hands held out as if it'd stop his advances. As he continued to approach, grinning wickedly at your fear as you fell backwards, landing on your backside. As this thing kneeled before you, features filled with amusement, you groaned.

"I appreciate the generous offer, but I need to go home Mr Curse, so I'm gonna have to pass on the destruction of humanity." A brow was quirked your way, mocking laughter filling the empty expanse of sand.

"I wasn't asking," Those same bladed tendrils wrapped around your squirming body, hoisting you high into the air as he continued his path, deafening your shrieks and pleas.

"You may refer to me as Millions Knives, your new god."

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

A/N: Hope you enjoyed your request Clouduru-Chan! I actually had so much fun writing this, especially Knives part, that may just be cause I'm the biggest Knives simp.

Love you heaps! 💜💜

[geddyqueer]

hello. several of my beloved friends (@teddywesworl and @kali and i think @postmodernau and quite possibly someone else) have tagged me in the 9 books you've read or are going to read meme. i do not feel like looking for images to make my meme look nice, so you will all simply get a List, along with all my Thoughts. this is what you wanted!!!

last year i read eight books! they were:

leigh bardugo's hell bent: really really good. i think i liked it better than ninth house.

freya marske's a restless truth and a power unbound: gnashes my teeth. really fun series! i think the last book was the best! 4p bought this for me.

stephen graham jones's the only good indian: LIFECHANGING BOOK! SCARY! BEST BOOK I'VE READ IN A LONG TIME!

kj charles's slippery creatures: good, but i didn't feel the need to go out and get the next couple books immediately.

juliet marillier's daughter of the forest: ough. really good classic doorstopper historical fantasy. read most of it while on vacation.

alexis hall's 10 things that never happened: very sweet. i like alexis hall. annie bought me this book.

geddy lee's my effin life: i'm sure you can figure out how i feel about it.

this year i am trying to read down my TBR pile. so far i have read:

t kingfisher's the hollow places. pretty good! scary! annie lent me this.

anthony horowitz's the twist of a knife. not my favorite of this series but i continue to admire tony for his meditations on mystery writing in the form of mystery books about mystery books.

morgan talty's night of the living rez. this wrecked me. i have a major structural bug up my ass about it (i think positioning it as a set of short stories does it a disservice and it should have been marketed as a novel) but i can't really complain when i spent two hours sobbing about the final section when i finished reading it.

up next is susanna clarke's piranesi. jonathan strange is one of my all time favorite books so i believe this will also be a favorite.

ok thank you for reading! i'll update in 10 months with my thoughts on the rest of the books i've read this year :3

[heygerald]

Unbreakable Gems, Shattered Illusions (THG)

OFC x Finnick Odair

As promised a long time ago, I'm going to start dropping snippets/blurbs/chapters for a Hunger Games story I'm working on; it's not a "true" story in that it will never be complete, but I'm pretty happy with what i've written for it.

Emerald DuChamp stared out across the Capitolite party with distaste. 

Gaudy outfits stretched as far as the eye could see; pink was in season, apparently, and on the far side of the courtyard she could see a few women clamoring around a pink-haired, pink-suited Caesar Flickerman who seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention. Avox brushed by with trays of delicacies to the districts—jumbo shrimp, dates, berries of every kind, chocolate, and more—but she fastidiously wiped her hands and looked away. 

Someone offered her a champagne flute.

She stared at the bubbles for a moment before accepting it. Alcohol was a good way to stave off hunger. It was also a good way to enjoy these types of functions.

  “If you keep scowling like that, you’re going to get frown lines,” Gloss said with an amused smirk. Emerald kept one off of her face. He seemed to understand that she didn’t want to talk to him and, with a cheeky grin, crept closer. “Caesar hosts the best parties in the Capitol.” 

“It’s certainly very pink.” 

“Pink is in style right now,” he shrugged. 

Emerald noted the salmon colored shirt he was wearing. The top two buttons were undone to give a teasing glimpse of the muscle that lay beneath. Months ago, she hated someone like Gloss who lived to look like an airbrushed magazine ad. But Emerald had learned quite a bit over the months; namely, that when a victor was in the Capitol, they had no control over themselves. 

“Where’s your sister?”

“Oh, talking to some Capitolites, enjoying the way they fawn over her. What else?”

“Hm. I’m surprised you aren’t.” 

“Maybe I enjoy our conversations,” he tittered. She gave him a flat glare to which he smiled, plucked some jumbo shrimp from a server’s tray, and corrected. “I was hungry and the food at these events is to die for. Literally.” 

Emerald gnashed her teeth but said nothing about his dark humor.

“Are you not going to eat?”

“Not hungry.”

“You’re skin and bones anymore, DuChamp,” he tutted while stuffing a piece of shrimp into his mouth. There was a faint undertone of worry to his voice, but the roguish smirk he plastered in place did well to hide it from interested ears. “A shame too, you used to be just my type when you still had your arena muscles with you. I like a woman that looks like she could kick my ass and throw me onto the bed.” 

“I still could. Kick your ass, I mean.”

Gloss leant back with an air of disappointment. Another falsity for the room they were stuffed into. Despite their differences, her and the District 1 victor had formed some sort of twisted friendship over the past year of enduring Capitol events. 

Sex, though fun, had never been a part of that.

“Maybe one day, DuChamp. We could rule the Capitol together, you know.”

Em snorted. “We would be a disaster. I never stop scowling and you never stop—”

“Charming women?”

“Opening your mouth.”

Gloss laughed before popping a skewer of melon into his mouth. She watched his lips twist in satisfaction at the sweet tasting fruit, watched a drop of juice drip down his chin, and steadfastly turned away when Gloss simply wiped it away with his bare hands.

Emerald’s hands were never bare anymore.

“Even so, we would have fun while it lasted,” he hummed.

“We would kill each other.” 

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

She rolled her eyes knowing that the dark, kohl lined makeup her stylist had insisted upon for this event would add depth to her scowls. Gloss either didn’t mind or didn’t notice as he simply grabbed another skewer—this one with goat—and gazed over the party with an idle eye. Hardly able to stomach being this close to the buffet, Emerald finished her glass and replaced it with another one.

“If one more person shoves their hand down the front of my dress, I’m going to take one of these pretty little skewers, and poke their eye out,” Johanna Mason groused as she shoved herself between the pair. Her dress was tight and short, much like Emerald’s, but her makeup had been done up in a soft, flirty style that undoubtedly caught several people’s eyes. “Give me that.” 

She snagged the skewer from Gloss’ hand and poked the end with her fingertip.

“It’s not an ax, but it’ll do.” 

He rolled his eyes with a dry smile. “Charming as always, Mason.” 

“Hm, why do I need to be charming when you and Odair are floating around the party? Isn’t that, like, your job?” She tossed the skewer away before snagging a flute of amber colored wine. “Well, don’t stop the conversation on my behalf. What were you two talking about?”

“Emerald’s undying love for me,” Gloss said as she said, “homicide.” 

Johanna paused, glanced between them, and rolled her eyes with a snicker. “That would be something to see. I’m sure Caesar would be delighted if you two went at it in his marble ballroom. Say, do you know the fuckers who chiseled these floors, DuChamp?”

“Do you know the gnomes who planted the garden outside, Mason?”

“Sheesh, what’s gotten you so riled up?”

A lot of things; the party, the greedy Capitolites, the President who she never saw but could always feel his eyes clawing at her back.

“This dress is a size too small,” she said instead, sipping on her wine as Johanna continued her barrage on the food buffet as though it would be her last meal ever. “Sometimes, I think that Digito wants me to pass out from lack of oxygen.” 

“Maybe stop eating. I know the upper districts aren't big on humility when it comes to luxuries like this, but you might actually fit into your dresses if you stepped away from the buffet every once in a while.” 

Emerald snarled around her dark lipstick. “Are you always such a raging bitch or is it just the party that has you in such a fine mood?”

Gloss sighed at the oncoming argument and excused himself. 

Johanna didn’t pay him any attention. She just stuck a large, red strawberry into her mouth while slanting her glare towards Emerald. Finger sticky with its juice, she seemed to know the exact way it caused Emerald’s stomach to curdle nauseously. “Do you have a problem or something, DuChamp? I know that District 2 doesn’t exactly teach manners when you’re growing up, but even Enobaria has more tact than you do in social settings like this.”

“You don’t talk to Enobaria.” 

“Yeah, because she’s a fucking bitch. I was surprised when you seemed to have a sense of humor compared to your mentors, but I guess the fame is starting to go to your head, huh?”

“Maybe it’s all the food I’ve been eating.” 

Johanna rolled her eyes, swallowed a portion of her wine, and popped another berry into her mouth. “You know, I doubt that Caesar keeps any axes in his living room, but we could always find a way to work out whatever your fucking deal is.”

Emerald’s temper flared as she watched the woman lick her fingers slowly.

“I’d certainly be happy for the exercise, but I’m not sure that my dress has enough modesty for that. Yours either.” 

Johanna laughed, enjoying the fire in Emerald’s eyes, and with a relaxed easiness she finished her drink. Setting aside the empty flute, she glanced over Em, hummed, and said, “it’s just as well. You don’t need an ax when you have your hands, do you? Too bad you just got an expensive looking manicure—I’m sure a fight with you would really fuck that up.” 

Emerald’s hand tightened around the stem of her glass and, if she hadn’t been in the middle of a Capitolite party with too many eyes on her, she might have snapped it in half with pure fury.

She couldn’t help but glance at her fingers. 

Clean, pale, not smeared with blood.

Taking a gulping breath, she said,  “anything to be a victor. Right, Johanna?”

Johanna just snickered, grabbed another flute, and disappeared into the crowd. It was just as well because Emerald suddenly felt like her hands were dripping with sticky, messy blood, and as soon as the brunette disappeared she turned on her heel to do the same. Gloss watched her go from his corner of the room—noting the way she seemed not to see anything around her—but when a gaggle of women hounded him for a conversation he let her disappear.

There was nothing he could do for her, anyways. 

A few interested patrons gave Emerald glossy smiles as she strutted past, but she didn’t have the energy to return anything other than a flat scowl. She could hear about it from her Capitol escort later; could listen to him reprimanding her for not having fun when she wasn’t desperate to clean her hands. The party thinned out as she traded ballroom for hallway, then hallway for the luxurious bathroom at the edge of the house.

Emerald barged in without thinking.

She froze when she found a young Capitolite woman wrapped around Finnick Odair, moaning as his hands curled possessively over the shape of her ass, laughing as she wrapped her tongue around his, and then shrieking when she came face to face with Emerald DuChamp.

“Oh! Oh my.” She detached herself from Finnick with a half-hearted giggle. She didn’t seem all that sorry; in fact, she seemed to enjoy the fact that someone else knew she was sneaking around with the Capitol’s Darling. “I’m sorry, how embarrassing.” 

Emerald said nothing.

She just rubbed the skin of her left knuckle, worried about the blood.

“Finnick darling, shame on you for not locking the door,” the woman purred.

“I must have gotten… distracted.” 

Emerald stood as the woman gave him a fierce, lusty smile before sliding off of the sink. Her heels clicked when they met the floor. Fixing her dress, she cleared her throat, and sauntered to the doorway that Em was still standing in. 

“Sorry about that, Emerald,” she said; though, she didn’t sound sorry in the least. “I just can’t keep my hands off of him. I don’t know how you do it, spending all that time together during the games! The victor’s room must be something else entirely.” 

Em swallowed, squeezing her knuckles, but kept her wit’s about her enough to know that anything she said would likely get back to Snow in one way or another. Flashing the woman a half smile, half snarl, she said, “I have a hard time noticing anything other than the games when they’re on.” 

The woman’s lips peeled with excitement.

As if she truly believed that she was getting a conversation with the genuine Emerald DuChamp; as if the rumors about her viciousness were true.

“Of course, how could you not?” she cooed. Then, she coyly looked over her shoulder, lipstick bright around too-white teeth, and glanced over Finnick with a prideful gleam in her eyes. “Finnick dear, you may wish to clean yourself up before returning to the party. I’d hate for everyone to know just what you were up to back here.” 

Finnick’s smirk deepened. “No one but DuChamp, you mean.”

She laughed. It sounded too much like a bell, and Emerald couldn’t keep herself from rolling her eyes in disdain. Not that it mattered. The woman let the door close behind her with another glance around, her heels disappearing down the marble hallway, and Emerald didn’t care that Finnick Odair was standing before her half-dressed.

She stepped up to the sink and began washing her hands.

“Sorry about that,” he said. Emerald found that no one actually sounded sorry when they were apologizing anymore. “It’s the cupcakes. They make it hard to keep your hands to yourself.” 

“I doubt you need an excuse to have raging hormones with anyone, Odair,” she snapped. It came out more aggressive than she had truly intended—a by-product of the invisible blood still lingering on her hands—and after grabbing the soap bar, she faintly relaxed in the quiet of the bathroom. “I didn’t eat the cupcakes anyways, but now I definitely won’t.” 

Finnick tutted while adjusting his hair. “It’s in most of the food, darling. If Caesar Flickerman is hosting a party, you can well enough assume that anything with icing on it is also laced with aphrodisiacs.” 

“I haven’t eaten anything.” 

She could feel his eyes on her as she continued to scrub her hands, pausing only long enough to find another speck of blood that was no longer there, before submerging them in the soapy water once more. 

“Did you go digging in the garden?” he inquired with a coiled smirk.

“Hm. You should wash your hands too, you know, after digging through—”

“Portia.” He sounded much too amused for her liking. “Her name is Portia.” 

“Usually I get someone’s name before I see them getting off.” 

Finnick well and truly laughed at her comment, unperturbed by her venomous attitude, and Emerald glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He had a nice smile when it wasn’t so forced, and pretty eyes when they weren’t so strained. 

“I always wondered why we didn’t spend more time together,” he tutted while smoothing out the rumpled collar of his shirt. Emerald caught a spot of pink lipstick on his neck. The water turned cold as she started to scrub beneath her nails thinking about the manicure she would likely be stripping off in her haste. “Everyone says that you’re like Brutus and Enobaria, but you have more personality than the two of them combined. Still, maybe it’s better for my ego if we don’t become good friends. I’m not sure I could handle my big head when you’re there to knock me down a few pegs.” 

“Friends,” she scoffed. “Are you allowed to have any of those?”

The question wasn’t directed at him, and she hated that he could tell with a single glance at her tight features. The question was directed at all of them—at her, at Johanna, at Gloss and Cashmere—at the entire population of victors who didn’t have any choice over what they did in their lives.

Just like Gloss didn’t pick his shirt.

And Finnick Odair most certainly didn’t pick the women he fucked in the bathroom.

She didn’t realize he had leant forward until the water shut off. Emerald stared at her hands for a moment noting how raw and chapped they were, before startling when Finnick gently offered her a towel.

“Thanks,” she whispered. 

“Not everything is laced with drugs,” he assured her quietly. It was strange how quickly conversations could change their tune in the Capitol, but victors were well experienced in hearing the things that were never spoken aloud. “You should eat something. Caesar’s parties are known to last for hours and I doubt you’ll make it that long if you keep downing wine.” 

“I can’t—” She caught herself, cleared her throat, and said, “I don’t eat with my hands.” 

Green eyes slanted to the hands she had just scrubbed for far too long in the bathroom sink before returning to her tight, impassive features. Emerald tried not to think about the way Thorn Hadley had looked at her in much the same way right before she killed him—like he had spent so long living under a single assumption, but finally got a glimpse into her soul that allowed him to realize who she really was beneath everything.

“The Avoxes will bring you a fork if you ask.”

“I’m not all that hungry.” He didn’t believe her, and oddly enough, neither did she. But Finnick didn’t push the topic; he just grinned at himself in the mirror before striding towards the door. “Finnick.” 

The blonde swung his head back towards her. 

Emerald stepped closer and with her crumpled paper towel she gently wiped the smeared makeup off of the delicate skin behind his ear. “Lipstick.” 

“I’m not wearing any,” he joked.

“Portia’s.” She tossed the ruined towel into the garbage bin. “You probably don’t want the next girl to see it or else she might start a riot.” 

Something darkened at the mention of the next girl, but Finnick didn’t deny it.

What good would that do when they both knew he had an obligation to uphold? Emerald suffered the same fate, if not the same obligation, and she knew that once she left the bathroom she would be expected to smile like there was nothing wrong.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name, sugar. Maybe we are becoming friends.” 

Emerald released a low sound from the back of her throat, shaking her head as she started to pick at her hands once more. She saw red painting her clean fingers, could smell pennies mixing with the scent of his sea salt cologne, and as she wrung her palms together she found Finnick's brow furrowed strangely on his forehead as if she were a puzzle he were trying to decipher Something ugly coated the back of her mouth.

“I’m not very good at friends, Odair, and I doubt that you need many anyways.” 

“I could always use a friend.” 

She didn’t like the simple way he put it—as if it was even possible that they could be anything other than strangers to one another—but Emerald didn’t have time to argue because in the next moment Finnick was striding out of the bathroom with his head held high, that damned flirtatious smirk plastered back onto his face as if nothing had ever happened.

As if they weren’t murderers with blood on their hands.

Emerald twisted her hands, glanced at the sink, and then followed him with a sigh knowing that no amount of soap in the world would ever truly make them clean. 

[ghastlybin]

Hello, can i make a request? 🥺🥺 what do you think about some zombie / post apocalypse AU with Handong? Idk, maybe reader and her met in some horde killing, they team up and ... Love blossoms 🤣 i leave it to you ☺️

Yoooooo first series, this first part is more of an introduction. I've edited this like four times so if there's any mistakes, disregard. PFFT. Anyways, thank you for requesting! I'm excited for this and as always, check the warnings!!!! Ily and I love Handong :,)

▾

▾Zombie Apocalypse! AU ▾ Series ▾ Angst ▾ Fluff ▾ Reader x Handong are endgame ▾ Some zombies are mutated but that'll show up later ▾ Survival ▾ gun usage▾ Hurt/comfort? ▾ some profanity ▾ FT. The rest of Dreamcatcher ▾ Also featuring a number of other idols that won’t show up until… Later chapters. ▾ I’ve waited my whole life to write a zombie AU. I fcking love post-apocalyptic stuff, as you will soon find out. ▾ Let’s MF goooooooo ▾ I will add more tags as we go lol▾

▾

W.C▾2.6k

Synopsis▾ For weeks after the outbreak of violent outbursts from people infected with a mysterious virus, you were alone and slowly running out of food and places to go. After running from a horde of infected, you meet Handong, the person who saved your life.

-> Part 02

You were numb to it by now, seeing infected roam the streets. Some ran, most walked, and others started showing signs of mutation.

It’s not like you didn’t care though. It bothered you knowing that the infected you’ve had to run from for months now, were once people living day-to-day just as you were.

The same infection that wiped half— If not most of the population. The ones that survived, are in a constant state of survival mode. The infected weren’t the only ones you needed to outlast.

There was also famine, disease, other humans— The hostiles, and the loneliness you faced being one of the few left alive.

You moved around the city, trying to always stay one step ahead of the infected. You made your way towards a small grocery store that was mostly looted during the first week of the outbreak.

A bell rang out through the store as soon as you opened the door, hoping you were completely alone in the store. And to your luck, you were. Though the quiet made you feel uneasy about your surroundings.

The store proved futile as a source of food, but there were pretty sufficient hiding spots in the event you would need a place to hide. You were low on food, though, and you weren’t entirely sure on how long the rest of your supply would last.

A loud gunshot startled you, dropping the mangled can you barely picked up. Then you heard shouting from outside, distant, but nearby.

“This way! There are too many!” The voice of a woman shrilled through the streets outside. You ran out of the store, the same bell ringing as you were curious to see another human.

You immediately regretted letting curiosity get the best of you when the lifeless eyes of the infected— A horde, had seen you, hearing the chiming of the bell on the door.

“Shit.” You mumbled.

And you ran. You always have been. It’s either you run, or you let the infected rip you apart.

You always thought being lonely was better than being dead, and from the looks of it, you would be lonely again and the women you heard would be another infected in the city soon.

Every non-hostile person has ended up turning or dying in some way.

You weren’t an exception either.

You ran through the streets, turning into an alleyway the first chance you got, trying to throw off the infected.

Most walked, but the ones that ran? They were faster than you anticipated.

You made the mistake of looking back to get a sense of how close they were. You could hear their hungry growls and shrieks, but seeing how close they got to you caused a panic to take over your body and you tripped, falling on the hard concrete, skidding as the friction burned into your shins, knees, and hands as you tried to catch yourself.

When an infected jumped on you, hungrily gnashing its teeth, you thought you were done. That it would soon be over, and you wouldn’t have to live in survival mode anymore, wondering where your next meal would come from or if you would ever meet another person out there that didn’t want to kill or rob you.

You felt yourself give up, thinking that was the only thing to do.

In that moment, a loud gunshot had your ears ringing and the infected was harshly kicked off of you. Attempting to regain your bearings, a hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you up.

“Can you run?”

Another gunshot rang out as this mysterious woman fended off the horde of infected long enough for you to reassess your priorities.

“Yes.” You answered, the stinging from the fall lingering. It wasn’t enough to render you immobile, but you weren't going to deny that it hurt.

“Run!” She stopped shooting and pulled you along, breaking into a sprint. This time, you didn’t look back.

You and the woman ran until you circled back to the grocery store, only this time, you avoided the main door and redirected the woman around the back of the store, entering through the back.

You shut the door after she ran in, collapsing against the door from the exhaustion after running. The woman joined you, sitting across from you and against the wall beside an empty shelf.

“Thank you, for saving me.” You panted, speaking lowly as to avoid attracting attention. She lightly shrugged.

“I would like to think you would’ve done the same if it were the other way around.”

“You have a lot of faith in strangers.” You commented. She cracked a smile, taking a deep breath as her breathing began to calm.

“I’m Handong.”

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced, hearing the infected outside. Luckily none of them saw you two enter the small grocery store.

“There. Now we aren’t strangers anymore.” Handong reached into her backpack, pulling out a smaller bag. She pulled out a water bottle before opening the smaller bag.

“Show me your wounds.” Handong spoke, nodding for you to pull up your pant leg— Which you did, a bit hesitant.

“They aren’t that bad. Could’ve been worse.” You dismissed as Handong moved closer, washing the blood and dirt off of your scraped knees and shins.

“Maybe. But infection is one hell of a way to go out. Better safe than sorry.” Handong glanced up from your scrapes to meet your eyes. You noticed how close she was, the woman that saved your life, and how beautiful she was.

You felt for a moment that it was the wrong time to think about something like that, especially when there were hundreds of hungry infected outside that almost killed the two of you moments before.

But it was justified. You hadn’t seen another human— That didn’t leave you for dead or try to kill you— Since the early days of the outbreak. Handong lacked enough bandages, but she seemed to know how to even out the placement to where it looked like it was enough.

She took your hands gently, pouring the cool liquid against your palms, cleaning the scrape on your palms as best as she could with what she had.

“You fell pretty hard.” Handong used the rest of the bandage wrap to wrap your palms.

“Yeah.” You stared at her, unsure what else to say. You were still mesmerized by her beauty and how much kindness she showed you.

“I can clean your wounds better back at our hideout, but for now, this will help until the horde leaves this area.” Handong moved back to her previous spot, her back against the wall again.

“Are you a doctor?” You asked. Handong smiled, shaking her head.

“Hardly. I’m just the stand-in until we find an actual doctor.”

You hung onto her every word, finding her fascinating. Her voice, her looks, and her personality— From what you’ve been exposed to thus far.

“Do you have a place to stay? A group?” Handong asked, steering the conversation to you.

“No and no. You are the first non-hostile person I’ve met in months.”

Handong checked the magazine of her gun as you said that, almost triggering your fight or flight.

“You’re not alone there.” Handong holstered her gun after seeing how many bullets she had. “I can recall the number of times we kept ourselves awake because of hostiles in the area. If I could count on my hands how many times that was, that’s a bad sign because then I would be one of the mutated infected and I’d suggest you back away from me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and even though she was serious, she ended up smiling at you for thinking she was funny.

And for a moment, you had forgotten the state of the world. You forgot the lonely days that turned into weeks, which turned into months. Having an actual conversation with an actual person rather than making comments to yourself just to fill the noise, felt a whole world better.

You hoped with every ounce left in you that you wouldn’t part ways.

The loneliness would’ve killed you before any infected would’ve. And maybe it was because of that fact that Handong saved you in more ways than one.

“I think the horde is gone.”

Standing up from the dirty tile, you peeked outside, seeing the horde was, for sure, gone, and left a trail of blood in their wake.

“Thank you, again.” You felt the dread of your moment with her coming to an end. She seemed to notice you stepping in the opposite direction of her and grabbed your wrist, careful as to not graze her hand against your scrapes.

“Come with me.”

You would have cried— If you could. You wouldn’t be alone anymore.

“To your group?” You hoped she wouldn’t change her mind.

But the smile on her face eased your worries, “yes. Where else?”

You shrugged and she grabbed your hand, adding to the relief and security she made you feel. As long as you stuck with Handong and you played your cards right, you wouldn’t be alone again.

With Handong, you felt you didn’t have to tip-toe or walk on eggshells around her. You followed her through short cuts she took all the way back to where her group was waiting— She hoped, at least.

It didn’t matter to you either that the city around you was painted in the blood of the dead or the wreckage of those who initially panicked when the outbreak happened, it was horrible, but you were able to ignore it this time because Handong was holding your hand.

Maybe it was too early to already have feelings for her.

Maybe you didn’t have feelings for her and was just glad someone saw enough value in you to save your life the way she did.

Handong looked back at you, an expression on her face that translated to ‘still alive?’. Whether she was actually thinking that or not, it felt nice, and you were certain that you were developing feelings for her.

She briefly let go of your hand, looking ahead at an old hotel that had barricades of dead cars and makeshift wooden fences surrounding the building.

“Don’t move.” Handong whispered. Handong proceeded to pick up a rock, throwing it at one of the cars. The rock caused a much louder sound than expected.

“Handong?” Another woman walked into view, holding a crowbar.

“Oh good, you all made it.” Handong sighed a breath of relief, motioning for you to follow her as the other woman opened the gate.

“We were worried about you.” The woman hugged Handong as she eyed you on your way into the safe zone.

“Who is this?” They pulled apart and Handong nodded towards you, giving you the go-ahead to introduce yourself.

“I’m Y/N. Handong saved my life.” You slowly smiled widely, trying to ease the tension. The other woman glanced at Handong, then back at you.

“I’m Yoobin.” She eased up on you, still showing caution at your arrival. You didn’t blame her either. You knew you weren’t bad, but they didn’t.

Just as you didn’t know whether they were actually good people or not. That’s how the world was. You didn’t know who to trust and who not to trust.

Who would save a person's life just to kill them?

“Handong’s back? I heard her signal but I—” Another woman appeared; She was holding a baseball bat that was latched to a makeshift holster on her back.

“Ah, Gahyeon, meet Y/N. The person Handong saved.” Yoobin glanced at you. And for a split second, you swore she smiled.

“Nice to meet you… Please don’t turn into a bad person. We are… Jumpy.” Gahyeon shook your hand. You couldn’t tell if she was threatening you or not, but you were more appeased that she showed willingness to trust you.

The three women walked inside and Handong motioned for you to follow them.

You were met with four more women, each holding a weapon of their own and varying differently from each other.

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced once more, feeling your nerves wracking as they each stared at you in varying degrees of caution.

“I’m Minji.” One of them spoke up. She was holding a hammer, gripping the handle as if ready for you to try something.

“I’m Bora.” The woman beside her spoke. Bora was holding a hatchet, also gripping it like her life depended on it. In her mind, it did.

You reminded yourself, you would be the same way. The hostiles ruined trust for those surviving.

“I’m Siyeon.” The woman holding a switchblade introduced herself next. It wasn’t open or ready to use, but you weren’t going to underestimate her speed— Or try her, for that matter.

“And I’m Yoohyeon, assuming you’ve already met Handong, Gahyeon, and Yoobin.” She was the only not holding a weapon. Nor did you see one attached to her.

It was about a week into you moving in that you found out her weapon was using and setting up traps for infected and hostiles alike.

Minji seemed to lead the place. She proved to be a great leader, in fact, and gave you a chance to prove yourself that you weren’t going to try anything that would get yourself or anyone else killed or hurt. She warmed up to you after you brought back food on a supply run and actually came back.

You deemed Bora as the ‘builder’, learning about how she’s the one that built the barricades around the hotel. It made more sense to you, seeing her weapon being a hatchet. She was impressed when you offered to help reinforce the fences, which greatly improved the defenses.

Siyeon is quick on her feet and quick to using her switchblade when needed. It isn’t clear exactly what her position was in the group, but that didn’t matter. You were just glad you were on her ‘shit-list’. Despite her clearly being a good fighter, she was actually very kind to you, and you offered to help her clear out the upper levels of the hotel.

You dubbed Yoohyeon as the strategic one in the group and she even taught you have to create a trap, which was tested on a roaming infected. She did laugh at your reaction when your trap worked, pinning the infected to a nearby tree.

Yoobin typically went on the food and supply runs. She was the first person you accompanied, learning the ropes from someone who did this routinely. She had a crowbar mainly to break into locked doors that she would run into around the city, and rarely ever used it to take down an infected.

Gahyeon usually kept watch for anything suspicious around the outside of the hotel. She knew how to keep hidden as to not alert any potential thieves or murderers. She uses her advantages to warn the group.

And Handong, the stand-in medic, is still the woman you’ve developed feelings for starting from the day you met her. Since then, you’ve gotten closer to her specifically.

Whether it was just in your mind or not, you had a feeling that she felt the same for you.

[hopetorun]

i've complained about this so much on twitter that i'm bringing my complaints here just for some variety but my current wip is something i thought i'd bang out in a month or something and instead it's been like pulling teeth all through the second half of the story and i still have maybe a third of it to go and i just want it done and released into the world so i can explore a concept that will maybe cause me less tooth-gnashing

[palimpsessed]

Yes yes it’s no longer Wednesday but space-time is a continuum or something. Anyway I wanted to share this but couldn’t muster the energy to make a post. So the fun continues today. I’ve not had a chance to read anyone else’s stuff yet but I’m very much looking forward to having time later so thank you for tagging me.

I posted a new fic yesterday, one which I’ve been teasing over the last month or so and I’m going to share some of that with you. And I finally got back in gear on Slings and Eros so I have a teaser from that, too!!! Okay enough chitchat. Let’s get busy.

First off, here’s my new fic. It’s called “by any other name...” and it’s about Simon’s cock. And also Baz’s. But mostly it’s just them being stupid and in love. And there are PUNS!!!!!

Anyway here’s Baz trying to name Simon’s cock:

I sigh and drop my head back onto the bed. There used to be a pillow there. My pillow. But instead, my head just bounces on the mattress because Baz stole my pillow to make himself a little nest. A sex nest. (You'd think he was the one who's half-dragon.)

I turn to look at Baz, because I want to look at Baz. Because he's beautiful, especially when he's being stupid and his hair's a mess and he's completely ensconced in pillows. But it's not his soft, dopey post-sex look that greets me. It's his plotting face.

"The Power of Powers," he announces, like he's introducing me to the bloody queen.

"No! No more prophecies!"

"It's not my fault your prophecy is full of ridiculous sexual innuendo."

"You're making it dirty! It's not dirty!"

"It's a little dirty," he murmurs.

Baz is right and he should say it.

Aaaaaaand here’s some ✨drama✨ from an upcoming chapter of SAE:

"I told you to leave me alone!" He bites the words out, like a rabid animal out for flesh, gnashing his teeth. A warning before the kill.

Maybe he thinks he can scare me off, but I'm the son of the god of war and I've followed my father into battle. I'll not be intimidated by tears and a prickly attitude.

I stand up again, and I let my power come back to the surface of my skin. It's not enough to provoke another burnout, but it should be all I need to convince Baz I'm serious. I can see his eyes widen as he stares up at me, jaw opening slightly, lower lip still wobbling.

I know he can feel it. Penelope tells me that it feels like the air before a thunderstorm. Oppressive and charged and unnerving. Elemental.

"And I told you that I won't leave you alone!" I shout back. I've balled my hands into fists, but that's good. As pent up and pulled taut as I'm feeling right now, I don't trust myself not to draw my blade.

I lower my voice. "I'll ask you one more time, are you hurt?"

Me, looking at the length of these snippets: this seems reasonable to inflict upon others.

I won’t tag anyone new because I’m late, but I will invite those who tagged me to consider this me tagging them back for Sunday. You’re all amazing. ❤️ @facewithoutheart @martsonmars @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @angelsfalling16 @cutestkilla @basiltonbutliketheherb @nightimedreamersworld @artsyunderstudy @confused-bi-queer

[anaknidonpilosopotasyo]

THE MAN AND THE BUTTERFLY

A Short Moral Story.

A man sat on a bench under a mango tree and he was just pondering his future and how slow his progress had been. Frustrated and worn out, he said to himself.

"I feel like I'm wading through treacle, making slow progress and everything takes much longer than it should. I've been working tirelessly everyday, but have faced extremely difficult conditions on the ground. Up until now, I haven't been able to buy a land, build my dream home, and have a family of my own. I feel like giving up! I'm tired!"

A little creature heard what the man had said, then whistled to him,

"Hello mister, my name is Larva, I'm an ugly creature. I heard everything you said... I just want to tell you to be patient. It won't happen overnight. Just hang in there and have faith that it'll work out."

The man scoffed and turned away. He knew it would make no sense to listen to such a little creature. So he stood up and walked away.

One month later, the man went back under the tree. He was angry, agitated and worried about his future. He gnashed his teeth and stamped his feet, seriously lamenting the slow progress made towards reaching his goals.

Suddenly, he heard the voice of a pupa which said to him,

"Hi mister, you seem to be overly anxious about the future. Well, my name is Pupa, and I look very ugly. I just want to tell you that growth is a gradual process. Sometimes, you have to go through the worst to get the best."

The man hissed, irritated at the stupidity of the pupa. Then he suddenly stood up and walked away.

Two months later, the man sat on a bench again under the tree. Then, as he pondered over his situation, a butterfly came flying and landed behind him. He was so captivated by it's beauty: it was enchanting and had a large colouful wings. He exclaimed in admiration and amazement,

"Wow, how come you're so beautiful?"

The butterfly responded,

"I've always told you, if you are patient in life, you can accomplish anything. Beauty takes time. Growth takes time. And Success takes time."

The man asked, puzzled,

"You've always told me? But I just met you for the first time."

The butterfly smiled and said,

"That's what you think, but we've actually met three times. First, I was an ugly larva, then I developed into an ugly pupa, but now I am a gorgeous butterfly. Those are the stages of my life cycle. So would you agree with me now that growth is a process?"

Everything takes time... and that's something that we find a lot harder to adjust to. We have all grown up expecting things to go our way almost instantaneously. We all expect to live the lives we choose. Some quit due to slow progress never grasping the fact that... slow progress is progress! However, we need to understand that nothing comes as an accomplishment instantly. Success doesn't come overnight. Patience is the key! Grow up, but don't give up. Give yourself grace to become that butterfly!

Author: Chima_Dickson Official

I let my stories teach the life lessons.

Ctto

[yungfrieda]

6/15/23

where to start, where to start

i've been drinking this evening - just as an early caveat in case this post gets too long and wordy. BUT things are feeling okay.

I'm excited to be on a new festival project with Superfly - despite it being a dream job, i still treat it like work. i understand my own personal reverence for what it is i've done by being a producer on this project. it's exciting and i'm thrilled about it because i've wanted to work at this company since forever and i'm finally able to check it off the bucketlist.

i don't know where to start with present happenings. i can really only speak about them romantically in context bc that's where my heart is at. i went to visit my crush at his job this evening. it was a pleasure to see him but really funny, as always, given how shy he is around me. a few months back, we went on a really fun date where we basically skipped around town enjoying each other's company and roasting each other like we'd been friends forever. he's awkward and shy around me now which makes things a lot more complicated on my end because i'd assumed we'd broken all of those barriers but it's uhhhh... a nice slow burn lmao

called Jerome yesterday. he didn't answer which was honestly fine and very affirming. i spend a lot of time thinking about him but less time today than yesterday and the day before yesterday. i imagine him taking time for himself and getting better, for some reason.

it seems easier to imagine than the alternative, which is him not being well, which is the reason i called him in the first place. i just have a weird feeling, but either way, i can't will him to accept my presence in his life especially when he eventually came to hate it so much.

we had a conversation awhile ago where he said

"I like spending time with Kiana a lot - she's a challenging, unique, beautiful, intellectual soul" i responded: "then why do you act like it's the worst thing? why do you act like Kiana hates you and does everything not to understand you?" "I do not begrudge Kiana her humanity, I simply enforce breaks"

I wonder if this is a break, a boundary- and i wonder why it matters so much to me, what it is, especially when our relationship became so harmful. I suppose Jerome made me realize so many parts of myself - maybe not in the way he intended me to realize, but i saw a lot of myself through him. i saw so many things i could hold on if i kept making that choice, so many reasons to gnash my teeth and snarl at anyone who made me feel insecure and endangered in any way. i wonder when i became the enemy in his mind, really - or if anything he said to me at that point in time was real in the first place or if he was just imagining some version of me.

i'm learning who i am, day by day, and i don't always think it's a person people will agree with or like. that's okay - i know how to compromise and i'm learning how to do so without compromising myself - compromising for the sake of getting things done, getting even a half a percentage of needs met. Or at least being honest when someone is asking me for something I can't give. I asked Jerome, at one point, how i could help foster better communication between us and he said he wasn't sure or didn't have the answer - i don't remember exactly.

but i'm... that type of person. Like Jerome, i react out of hurt. Even if it's not the level of vitriol as Jerome, the reaction is still an escape or a way out of asking directly for what it is i need. it kicks up drama, and makes my needs even more obscured than before. i end up blaming the other person for not responding appropriately for needs i haven't expressed and cannot even see well enough to express.

he'd expressed this cycle as being a familial pattern. i also know it as a familial pattern but i refuse to pretend like it doesn't bring hurt. i try to be as direct as possible, to my detriment and also to my benefit, because ambiguity gives me too much space for my brain to roam. i prefer to know what i'm dealing with - but most people are not great at communication, especially if it's uncomfortable.

one of the things i always used to wonder with him - was whether or not rejecting me was something he did because he truly wanted me to be better or if he saw behavior in me that he refused to see in himself. i believe it to be the latter - and i refuse to live that way. i want to rekindle our friendship, for selfish reasons. because i think he knows this about himself and that he's in denial for the sake of being "right" in our argument. but at the same time, i think he's a traumatized person, as i am, and he may decide to demonize who i was in his life forever. i wonder sometimes why i care - but i also genuinely appreciated how much i understood his upbringing and how much i thought he understood mine. trauma bonds are truly the most troublesome to let go of.

ah. i'll figure it out.

[allsassnoclass]

...

[liptonsbabe]

Honeymoon Avenue [S.U]

Sam Uley x Fem! reader

Summary: Sam and his pack are determined to get rid of Bella’s baby as soon as it’s born. You are adamantly opposed to that. Sam is mad at you and you know you guys don’t live on the honeymoon avenue you used to be on anymore.

Warnings: None

A/N. well, hello! I’m back with another Sam imagine for u guys! i just wanted to say that i used a sentence starter from this list , sooo all the credits for you hun! Enjoy!

Same note as ever, english not my mother language so forgive any mistakes lol

Buy me a  ☕? 

"what are you going to do when someone you save kills someone else in the future?"

You looked at Sam from across the kitchen, both of you had your arms crossed over your chests in a clear sign of annoyance. It was nighttime, the room was dark and you could only see your faces by the light of the TV on from the living room.

Sam was furious. His back was tense, fists clenched and teeth gnashing. Bella was a few hours away from giving birth and that had the whole herd nervous. Sam thought the baby was a threat to the reservation and wanted to get rid of it at any cost. You heard him say it at home, while he and the rest of the boys were having a meeting to decide how they would deal with the Cullens.

The pack tried to keep that conversation a secret because they knew you would refuse. You were Bella's friend and you got along very well with the Cullens, so trying to convince you of the danger that pregnancy posed was a hopeless.

In the end they couldn't keep the secret anymore and Sam decided to tell you everything, including the plan they were making to protect the reservation. You refused and it led to such a passionate fight between the two of you that Sam began to shake. You knew he would never hurt you, of course, because he had a great control over his wolf and wouldn't let him out when you were so close.

Still you asked the boys to leave you two alone. You calmed down a bit and when your bodies cooled down, you picked up the subject again.

You bit your lip, looking at him.

"Don't you think you're going too far, Sam? It's just a baby."

"We don't know that yet."

"It's inside Bella."

"That doesn't assure us anything. It was created by a vampire."

"Edward was a human at some point in his life like any other, don't you believe in the possibility that it could be born as Bella? as a human!"

"Yeah, but I also believe in the idea that it could be born as a vampire. And if so then it won't be able to contain the thirst. It would wipe out the whole town in less than an hour."

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm thinking about possibilities. I'm not just the leader of the pack, I'm the protector of the whole reservation, of our community, of the council. I need to make a decision and I want you to back me up for once in my goddamn life, (Y/N)"

You saw him hunch forward as he rested his fists on the back of the chair. The TV light flickered and through the darkness you swore you saw the way Sam's body shivered softly.

"Haven't I supported you enough?" you claimed moving closer until you were under the door frame. He stood up and looked at you wearily "Haven't I taken care of the pack along with you all this time? I've been like a second mother to those pups, I've fed them and cared for them as much as I can. And I do it because I know it's tiring for you and because they need to be with you every moment every second of the day and I've never reproached you for it. I love to see them every day, take care of them and protect them because I know that in that way I am taking a weight off your shoulders. Haven't I done enough already? Do me a favor and stop being so ungrateful."

"I never asked you to do that."

"You didn't, but I'm your imprint and we share responsibility" You approached him slowly, sighed and took his hands. You were tired of fighting. For months now something in your relationship had changed and you didn't feel it like before. At first you seemed to live in a permanent honeymoon, but with everything the pack had been through lately Sam was living in constant stress and it was reflecting so much in your relationship.

Now you would end every argument in a terrible fight that led you to feel guilty the next day.

Sam squeezed your hands gently and looked you in the eye. You didn't want to fight anymore, you were tired, yet you were going to try everything to keep Bella and her baby safe as much as you could.

"You've always said that we imprints are part of the pack. We are on the council, we protect the reservation and keep the secret safe. We do the same as you but without becoming wolves or sharing our thoughts. That makes us almost the same. Sam, if your words are true, if you have been truly honest, don't you think I can take part in the decisions you will have to make? We are... family. We all are. You have to listen to me."

"You are an important part of the pack. You, Kim, Rachel... but you can't interfere. Not in this."

"You'll make the wrong decision."

"I'll take the consequences."

"You think the Cullens are just gonna sit back and watch their family get attacked? They'll turn it into a war! Another goddamn war, Sam, don't you get it? He's a baby!"

"I'm not going to discuss this with you anymore."

"You will!" You grabbed him by the arm as Sam wanted to escape out of the room. He stopped "You will do it, Sam. Have you stopped to think for a second what Bella is going to suffer? The damage you will cause her? It doesn't matter if that baby is born human or half vampire. It will still be her child and she will protect it like an animal. Could you kill Bella if necessary?" Sam was silent, thinking. You squeezed his arm, pleading "Have you thought... what you would do if the situation were different? If I were pregnant with your child and the Cullens saw it as a threat...what would you do?"

"It's not the same."

"But if it were..."

"That’s enough, (Y/N)."

"If our child were a wolf from my womb, if it were born with the condition of transforming at every moment, on my arms..."

"Enough, (Y/N)"

"We would love him just the same and protect him with our lives. We wouldn't let him hurt anyone else because he would have us to contain him and then..."

"I said enough!"

Your body froze as you heard Sam's scream echo through the walls of the house. He had never used his commanding voice with you, he had never made use of that act of authority over you and that he had used it at that moment kept you in a permanent shock. You felt a terrible weight on your heart and without saying anything else you went up to the bedroom, closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed. Then you heard the front door open and close and Sam howling as he ran into the woods. You sighed heavily and convinced yourself that things between you had undoubtedly changed.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Don't nah to me.

NESTOR OCETEVA. ┃ MAYANS MC.

❝ request by @yourwonkywriter: Hi, Aurora, beautiful piece of art, my friend, my love, marry me and god bless your parents. Could I please request number 6 of the Random prompts list with Nestor (if that one isn’t taken, yet? Thank you💖✨

❝ request by @the-radical-venus: Hey!! I love the new prompts it was so hard to decide on one I'm so excited! Idk how I'm going to be able to wait until January, Ive been waiting everyday for each of your November prompts to come out so I've kinda sold you my soul at this point haha “Wanna like— I mean, if you're not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don't have a lot of time?” For nestor oceteva? Preferably him saying that line?

❝ prompts: “Nah”. “Don’t ‘nah’ to me”. / “Wanna like— I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don’t have a lot of time?”

❝ words: about 800.

Gif credits to my lovely @sonsofeorl.

Stretching your arms over your head and uttering a soft pleased grunt when you feel your back gnashing, you continue your path to the kitchen. It's almost lunchtime, but you came last night too late from San Diego and you need a coffee urgently. It has been the first time in two months that you've been able to sleep for more than six hours, after finishing the period of exams at college. And it feels so good to sleep in your bed. Almost colliding with your big brother, as he steps out from the kitchen, he leaves a rushed kiss on your forehead before disappearing through the living room straight to his office. It's good to be back at home.

“Buenos días”. You yawn covering your mouth with a hand, once Nestor turns around.

“Buenos días”. He replies, noticing the fleeting shine in his dark eyes.

Puckering your lips squinting towards him, you grab a mug from the cupboard about to giggle somewhat ashamed. There's something in his smile that could kill you in a sight, making you feel a little nervous.

“Good sleep?”

“Yeah”. Nodding your chin, you pour some coffee to your delight, not waiting to take a sip from your cup.

You can't help but keep your eyes on his at all times, intrigued, figuring out what's going on inside his mind. Licking your top lip, you shake your head expecting some more words from him. Maybe, something about his thoughts right now. But Nestor is just staring at you, silent, like a freak.

“It's creepy what you're doing”. You whisper wrinkling your nose.

The head of security chuckles, resting his waist against the counter as he keeps his hands inside the pockets of his dark pants, slightly showing a pair of colored suspenders over the black shirt perfectly ironing. Nestor rubs the back of his head for a moment, before hiding his hand again. You know what it means. You know him ever since and, even if sometimes he's very quiet, you've learned to read his gestures throughout the years. He's nervous. His fingers are shaking. His palms are sweating. All from a second ago, when you've walked in.

“Wanna like— I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don’t have a lot of time?”

For you, it's so cute the way he has to clean his throat pretending everything is going normal, that you feel your cheeks and the tip of your ears burning. Kissing your teeth, you look at the way Miguel has taken a minute before, considering if it'd be correct to date his best friend, the only man he trusts in. Nestor has liked you ever since, but you aren't sure if you should hear your heart or the last brain cell alive in your head.

“Like a date?” You raise an eyebrow interested in his reply, and because of that, you can see how he gulps a little jumpy.

“A da— date? Nah… Nah, nah, nah”. He's lying.

Standing up and taking the last sip from his mug, he leaves it inside the sink about to abort the mission and run away. The expression on him lets you know he has fucked up at the moment you haven't said yes, simply.

“Don't nah to me, Nestor”. You laugh inevitable at the grimace of horror, not finding any escape route when your brother appears again accompanied by Álvarez.

“You okay? Looks like you've seen a ghost, brother”. The older makes fun of him, watching how he loosens the neck of his shirt by undoing a button.

“Yeah, everything go— good”.

“What's your plan for today?” Your brother questions whilst grabbing a small bottle of water from the fridge, sounding very interested.

“I'm goin' on a date with Nestor”.

Oh, the pettiness. Silence filling the kitchen. Your brother lands his eyes on his best friend; confused, perplexed. Miguel must be thinking it's one of your jokes or something like that until he notices the sweat on Nestor's forehead. Marcus laughs breaks the tension installed around you, shaking his head as if it was the funniest thing he has heard in his life. The counselor has to abandon the place, almost choking on his own saliva, flooding the house with his laughter.

Miguel just sips water, moving his head from you to Nestor, like when he watches a tennis game.

“Qué desagradable”. He babbles, imagining stuff he doesn't have to imagine. “New nightmares unblocked… I don't want to know… a thing about it”.

Waving his free hand, your brother disappears again not adding another word to his sentence. Nestor is close to a heart attack, trying to say something in his defense. But he has collapsed.

“I'm free for lunch”.

“Uh?” He utters placing his attention back on you.

“Lunch. I'm free”. You repeat, conscious he hasn't heard you.

“Ok— okay. I, uh… I'll wait for you to… get ready”.

If you’ve liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

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[sapphixxx]

I'm at a very weird place (when am I not?) where like, my professional prospects are seeming most hopeless. I'm about to apply to work part time at the bookstore for minimum wage while doing tutoring on the side, just like I was doing before I had any degree at all, still with no benefits, still no retirement savings, still no path towards financial independence or stability, still no real permanent career path, rapidly approaching 30. But like, after wailing and gnashing my teeth for a week followed by a week of being so sick I could barely get out of bed, I'm just feeling, like, fine. I have a little bit of extra money from house cleaning, so I'm gonna order some dvds and perfume and other little things. Outside of the money I get from tax returns, I don't have a way of refilling the emergency savings I've been sitting on to cover the truck breaking down again or moving to a new city. But it's okay. I have 50, sometimes as much as 80 bucks a month to throw around after expenses are paid and I'm looking forward to what I'm getting this time. I have a lot of friends that I talk to regularly, and seeing them makes me really happy. My medications are dialed in. For the first time in 28 years I feel good about my relationship with my family. I've got a niece now. It's spring. I discovered that yellow looks good on me recently. This is my life, and I'm fine.