#sorry bit of a vent post here i just get older and every year it's a hassle to find something I want to do bc just like... nothing happens

[cerbreus]

having an early spring birthday fucking sucks man shitall to do; no good movies, very few exhibitions, its wet and gloomy out and most parks are closed for the season... worst season hate early spring :’(

[ur-loser-pet]

My intro!!!!!!!

hewo!!! im ur loser gf who asks way too many stupid questions:3

(i looked up online where a place like this is and tumblr showed up! im new to it but i did my research and i do hope i can make a new home here:) i heard thats lots of young girls go here to get attention so im sorry if im not welcome!

also imSOO sorry my into is so long im new to this! i tried to make it pretty though!

‼️this account is SH mostly with very little actual kink involved. i do this because i deserve it, because i need to, not coz i wanna‼️

me - 🌸

this account - 🌺

rules - 🌹

Me!

🌸 name: worthless excuses like me don’t get names:(

🌸 age: biologically 18 but i haven’t been keeping track and i’m stupider than a 9 year old >~<

🌸 location: im from the west but i belong in my room where no one can see me!

🌸 pronouns/gender: im female but im not good enough to be an actual woman, stupid things like me don’t have genders, so it/it’s pronouns are fitting and the best for me!:)

🌸 my sexuality: i don’t deserve to be with anyone but im open to anyone of any gender!

🌸 my physical description:

- blondish brown hair

- blue eyes (not the pretty kind, the dead kind)

- white and extremely pale coz i never go outside

- a bit chubby (130 pounds last time i checked) but im on a diet and doing my best to lose weight (tho im still and always will be gross)

- im also 5’5

- i have big boobs but i hate them

- idk how big my ass is but nothing special

- my thighs are pretty thick but not in a good way

🌸 my mental description

- im really stupid and rightfully hate myself for it

- im psychotic, i have anger issues, and borderline personality disorder

- im super obsessive and the more i like someone the more i let them do whatever they want to me

- but also it can be difficult to earn my trust (think of me like a bunny, weak, fragile, and frightened, only im not cute)

- i have an ed and i sh but i don’t like starving anymore because im incredibly malnourished, i also don’t have a way to cut :(

- i have no friends (wonder why lmao) but when i was younger older men online would always be so kind to me! so now i kinda depend on them:P

- i hate me and everyone else (you) should also!

This Account!

🌺 this accounts purpose: this blog is self harm first and lust second! most stuff doesn’t turn me on and i just use it as a way to hurt myself (by either making me uncomfortable or it hurting my feelings, etc)

🌺 purple text: self harm, vents, or anything along that nature that doesn’t involve my lust:)

🌺 pink text: me horny posting, meaning it’s something that actually does turn me on!

🌺all activity is welcome: dms, asks, anons are and always will be open to anything! go off and do whatever you want! just don’t break the rules hehe! but unsolicited dick pics and stuff like that are okay!

🌺 my interests on this account: im open to all kinks! this is just because while i have personal kinks, what i want doesn’t matter and my pain is good! so i have no sexual limits besides maybe a serious form of pain that hurts *other people* that isn’t me, like a misogyny kink for example, im not okay with, only because im not the only one hurt by misogyny! i don’t want anyone else to hurt:( only me, only i deserve to hurt.

🌺 my activity: im active the most after 6 pm, i gotta try n act like im sane, normal, human, and like a girl or else i’ll be found out! (well i rarely go out or talk to ppl but just in case.. im like batman teehee) and i log off at 10 pm (est)

🌺 when i post: because i have soo many thoughts and really don’t wanna spam and bother people:( and because i love schedule and rly like the scheduling/drafting system on tumblr, i put my thoughts into drafts n when im ready (brave enough) i schedule them for a specific time!:) every 30 minutes starting at 7 pm and ending at 10 pm (est) there should be a new post!:D so if im ever inactive but somehow still posting that’s why:)

Rules!

🌹 Ima have to put on a serious face for this but i feel i need to now because im generally bad at boundaries. absolutely NO rule breaking, under any circumstances. i am the holder of this account and i will block you if i deem it absolutely necessary. i don’t have many rules but im EXTREMELY strict when it comes to them (and i’ve tried but there’s no way i’ll be getting rid of them) so best case scenario, rule breakers will only receive a block, thank you for those who abide by the rules i love you:)

🌹 no racism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, or sexism of any kind on my blog, this is a safe place for everyone. an extremely important thing to note is that i hate myself, degrade myself, hurt myself, let others use me, etc *not* because i’m female, but because of who i am as a creature. my sex and gender have nothing to do with it. please respect that simple fact.

🌹i don’t send. i can imagine that if i were to get close to someone i’ll send them any pictures they want (it’s certainly a possibility but it’s hard to gain my trust). so regardless of your reasons, i will not be posting or sending any pictures of myself that include my face or nudity. my body belongs to my future lover (deity) anyway.

🌹i don’t give out other socials. this one is simple, if i want to i’ll give you my discord but it’s highly rare so please don’t ask:)

🌹NO KIDS NO EXCEPTIONS. anyone under 18 is not welcome here it isn’t good for you, it isn’t even good for me.

🌹if you get triggered by any dark topics (drugs, rape, pedophilia, grooming, ed’s, sh, or anything really) please block me, the idea of hurting someone because of this account hurts me genuinely:(

🌹i will likely add more rules in the future but i’ll make sure to blog about it!

🌹 sorry for all the strictness n stuff i don’t like being firm or anything like that but i believe it’s necessary unless i get so overwhelmed and end up deleting my account within days:(

i’ll likely revise my intro in the future!:) please give me tips on how to make it or me better if you have any!<3

[stay-dazed]

stray kids as your older brother

notes: female reader, and you're their adopted sister. this is my first time making a post like this, so i'm sorry if it's repetitive or anything. i hope everyone enjoys!

chan: chan's always loved being an older brother, and not just to his biological siblings, but to anyone who may need a brotherly figure. so when his parents made the decision to adopt another child back when he was still a trainee, he was ecstatic. nervous as hell since he wasn't sure if he'd be a good enough big brother to a new sibling while being all the way in korea, but excited nonetheless.

the day you came home his parents set up facetime so you both could meet and of course you both clicked pretty quickly thanks to how patient he was and how calmly he spoke. and now, six years later, you're happily close with all of your siblings. of course you're closest with lucas since you see him everyday, but hannah and chan are still amazing big siblings.

chan's a pretty busy guy but he takes every opportunity he can to either facetime you and lucas, or at least text you both to see how you've been doing. he also gives the best advice he possibly can whenever you need it. and as it may seem, tonight is a particularly difficult night for you.

as you lay in bed mindlessly scrolling on your phone after a quiet dinner with the family, your thoughts begin to feel almost suffocating. your eyes begin to tear up and a lump forms in your throat. quickly you check the time - 7:30pm. well... korea is only an hour ahead, and chan never really sleeps anyway. he wouldn't mind if you called really quick, right?

with a shaky hand you go to his contact, press call, and hold the phone to your ear. your lips are pressed tightly together as the phone rings once, twice-

"hey (y/n), what's up?"

his cheery voice alone brings the tears to slip down your cheeks despite your best efforts not to cry. "channie-hyung? are you busy right now?"

your shaky voice immediately worries chan and he's set intro protective mode. "no, no i'm not busy," he says despite all the talking going on in the background," what's up, hon? did something happen?"

you spend the next hour and a half just venting about how awful things have been recently. how you may not pass your government history course despite how hard you try to understand everything and how the new manager at your workplace treats you like you're an idiot. and as to be expected, by the end of it, you feel so much better. you're even giggling at the silly things chan says to try and cheer you up.

"an idiot? nah if anyone's an idiot, it's me. i share exactly one braincell with all the boys and half the time it isn't even working. you're doing great, okay hon?"

minho: admittedly, minho isn't exactly excited when his parents first announce their plan of adopting a teenager. it's not that he wouldn't love his new little sister or anything but he grew up an only child, so he isn't familiar with the duties a big brother has. during the seven months it takes to go through the whole adoption process, minho spends as much time with his parents as he can, helping set up what used to be his room as your new room and getting reassurance from his parents that he'll be a great big brother.

gradually minho gets used to the idea of having a little sibling. in fact he's actually kinda excited now. he's just so curious to see what you're like and how you two will get along. the day you come home is a little bit awkward as to be expected, but it's full of smiles and small talk anyway. minho shows you to your room and talks about how it used to be his before he moved out at a young age. that leads to an interesting conversation about his past job as a waiter, his uni experience, and how he became a kpop trainee.

the conversations continue into the evening, all through the hearty meal made by your parents. you're already beginning to feel comfy here. the only thing left to do to truly become a part of the family is meet the fluffy trio - soonie, doongie, and dori. you had seen them earlier but they were hiding in their cat tower, anxious about this newcomer in their home. after helping with clean up, you carefully head towards the cat tower where you kneel down to hopefully appear less big and intimidating. you first meet eyes with soonie, and you're instantly drawn to the way his little nose twitches curiously in your direction. with a big smile, you speak to him in a gentle voice," hi baby. look at you, you're so cute."

you hold your hand out to him so he can get more of your scent but he doesn't seem to like it as he cowers further into the tower. "oh no, i'm sorry baby. i didn't mean to scare you. i promise i won't hurt you!"

minho comes up behind you and watches for a moment as you continue to try coaxing soonie out, with no success. "why don't we go sit on the couch? eventually they'll get curious and come out to see what's going on," he suggests.

you nod and follow him to the living room where you both sit on the couch and just spend time talking about different things. it takes a little while, maybe twenty minutes, but finally doongie builds up courage to come out first and see what his papa's up to. he jumps onto minho's lap and sniffs in your direction but ultimately curls up where he is. soonie comes out next after a few more minutes, and just curls up on one of the couch pillows that fell on the floor where he proceeds to doze off. well it's good he trusts you enough to nap around you.

and the last to come out is dori. after he sniffs in your direction just like the others, you expect him to go find another spot to settle in like the others did. but much to your and minho's surprise, he instead climbs on your lap where he sniffs at your nose a couple times, then lays down and begins licking one of his paws.

"i've never seen him get comfortable around a new person so quickly before. you must be really special!"

changbin: changbin is so excited to learn he's getting a new baby sister. well not an actual baby, but a baby to him. he's always been bullied (playfully) by his older sister and now it's finally his turn to do it to someone younger than him. changbin has always been highly observant and good at memorizing how to specifically help the different people around him, so he knows he'd be a good big brother for sure.

the evening you come home is very busy. your parents, big sister, changbin, as well as seungmin who has the day off, all take you out to eat at a nice restaurant for a sort of first gotcha day celebration. you're incredibly nervous and soft spoken which is understandable considering it's your first day with your new family, and thankfully they're all very patient with you. they try their best to be as cheerful as possible but at the same time not too overwhelming.

and despite being so nervous, seeing the family (and seungmin) be so happy and playful with each other helps you calm down little by little. by the end of the night you're giggling and feeling much more relaxed. you haven't said much most of the evening besides answering questions they've asked you, but they don't seem to mind. when dessert comes - specifically bungeoppang for you - changbin asks," oh you like red bean paste too? (y/s/n) doesn't. she says it's too sweet for her."

you smile and respond timidly," yeah it's one of my favorites." changbin smiles back and nods. he's sure to remember that for future reference.

as him and your sister start poking fun at each other again with seungmin egging them on, a sudden playful jab at changbin slips out of your mouth. you're not sure where that little spark of confidence came from, but that playful jab leaves him in shock and the rest of the table in laughter.

seungmin says while slinging an arm over changbin's shoulder," she fits right in, huh?" you can't help but laugh louder than you have this entire evening.

"i'm supposed to be the one who teases now! how could this possibly have backfired on me??"

hyunjin: hyunjin's visiting his parents on his week off of work when they open up about their decision to adopt. he's not particularly happy nor upset about the idea, he's really just shocked more than anything. he calls up chan and felix in a group call to ask them what it's like to have a little sister, and as the news really sets in throughout the duration of the phone call, hyunjin begins to really worry. just like minho, he's only ever been an only child. what if he sucks at being a big brother? chan and felix remind him that he has at least some experience being a brotherly figure with the younger members so he'll be just fine. hyunjin, being as dramatic as he is, takes a bit longer to fully calm down and get used to the idea.

but once he does, he's just fine. he even takes a day off work to join his parents when they go to pick you up and bring you home. all on the way home hyunjin gives you an idea of what the apartment - especially your room - is like and how it'll be to meet kkami. thankfully everything he tells you helps you feel more calm and like you know what to expect in this situation. once you arrive at home hyunjin is more than excited to show you to your room, and also take a moment to introduce you to kkami.

kkami mostly just barks and growls at you while hiding behind the kitchen table legs. it takes a bit of coaxing from hyunjin, your mom, and some treats they gave you to offer him, but kkami eventually comes out from underneath the table and carefully makes his way to you. and after a good amount of treats you're finally able to scratch under his chin for a few seconds before he hurries off to his dog bed next to the couch. that's okay, it's a start.

you and hyunjin decide to head back to your room to get the rest of your things unpacked while your parents work on dinner. to keep a conversation going hyunjin asks while handing you more hangers for your clothes," so (y/n), what do you like to do for fun? do you have anything you're passionate about?"

you're so glad he asked. you respond with a smile," well i'm pretty passionate about art. especially collage art. i have a few journals with me that i've already finished. i hope to get a new one soon to start in."

hyunjin looks at you with bright eyes and a smile matching your own," you like art too? i've been painting for a few years now myself. it's my favorite form of selfcare."

you stop your clothes-hanging process and ask," really? would you mind showing me some of your work? i could show you some of mine too if you'd like."

"yeah of course!" hyunjin says before hurrying off to his room to get one of his many sketchbooks. you can tell already that this is something you'll both be bonding over for a long time.

"oh yeah this is a sketch of my bandmate felix. i'm sure you'll meet him sometime soon- oh no wait! don't look at that part, i messed it up!!"

jisung: jisung is actually told about his parents adoption decision through his older brother during a call meant to catch up with each other. he's pretty shocked and decides to take the weekend off to go back home and talk about it with the whole family. once it's all talked through though, he's actually excited and not at all as nervous as he'd expect. he's really just excited to have a little sibling for the first time, especially a sister since he's only ever been around other boys. he counts down the days until you get here.

and the day you finally come home is full of excitement. luckily you match the energy and click with your brothers pretty quickly so the conversations and jokes keep flowing. you're particularly curious about jisung and his career as an idol though, so you end up asking him lots of questions about it. you listen curiously as he explains and the family jumps in now and again. it's pretty touching seeing how proud and supportive they are of him. you're already grateful to be a part of a family that seems so caring.

time goes by so fast and before you know it, you've been here for two years. you're happy to see jisung and the rest of stray kids grow in this time, especially in person whenever you get the chance. like tonight. well technically today since it's 1:12am.

you aren't feeling the best today because you just cannot fall asleep no matter how hard you try, and your bed just seems to get more uncomfortable with each toss. it's so frustrating you could cry. so you do the first thing you think of that would help: you call up jisung to see if you can head over to the studio. you've been told a number of times that you're always welcome there, after all.

"jisung-hyung? is it okay if i come over to the studio? i can't sleep, i feel like crying, and i just need to get out of the house right now. please?"

"yeah of course," jisung responds immediately," chan-hyung went out for snacks so he can pick you up on his way back. when you get here you can just relax on the couch."

"okay, thank you so much hyung."

thanks to him, once you're settled in the studio you eventually doze off on the couch to the sound of keyboard clicking and jisung talking about something regarding how they put music together.

"just listen to me talk about our process for a while. it'll probably bore you to sleep."

felix: felix has always had a great relationship with his sisters because he genuinely appreciates his role as a brother. so when he learns through rachael that his parents are in the process of adopting another little sister, he's so excited. not an ounce of anxiety in his body. as it'll likely take about a year to finish the entire process including bringing you to australia from another country, felix takes that time to save up money and plan out vacation time for the trip to australia he'll be taking the day you come home.

when that day finally comes felix flies over to australia, planning on staying for a full week. and when he arrives at the house he goes to you first and gives you a big, safe hug where you both sway side to side a little bit. you can't believe just how comforting his hug is and how similar it is to how your sisters hugged you when you arrived this morning around 2am.

"hi! it's so nice to finally meet you! it was so hard waiting an entire year for this day", felix says excitedly as he takes a step back to look at you.

you laugh happily and respond," it's nice to meet you too! thank you for coming all the way over here just to meet me."

"of course! i wouldn't have missed it for the world. are you already settled in?"

"actually, no. we were all so tired after i got here that we just headed to bed. i still have a lot of unpacking to do." you laugh again.

"oh yeah, that's understandable. well should we go do it now then?"

with the help of the entire family getting everything unpacked in your new room goes by pretty quickly. it's around lunchtime when you're all finished, so the family decides to head out for a celebratory lunch at their favorite diner. the drive is about twenty minutes long so to make it go by faster felix, rachael, and olivia take turns telling you different memories associated with the diner. for example, the time they went there after felix won two medals at a taekwando competition when he was 12. or the time they went there to celebrate rachael getting into college to study psychology.

now this is just another fond memory to add to the list.

"do you remember crying, rach? yes you absolutely did! i cried too! i'm not afraid to admit it!!"

seungmin: seungmin is surprised and ultimately confused when his parents call him up and tell him about their adoption plans. he thought him and his sister were trouble enough for them. but if it's what his parents want, he'll fully support them. he's not exactly nervous or excited. he's mostly just a little sad that his old room will be switched out for someone else.

the day you come home is just a little bit awkward. well to seungmin anyway. his parents and sister welcome you home warmly, telling you just how happy they are you're finally here. all the while he stands to the side watching everything unfold. once it's his turn to greet you however, he tries his best to smile wide and give you a hug. it's an odd middle ground of a side hug and full hug, but you don't mind it. despite how unsure he is of himself he seems very sweet.

after your sister shows you to your room and helps you put some of your things away, seungmin comes in and tries again to be as welcoming as he can by telling you a bit about how your room used to be his room. he then offers to show you his huge collection of old baseball cards. baseball isn't really your thing, but you can tell how hard he's trying to make you feel at home with something he's obviously passionate about, so you listen closely as you look at the cards he shows you.

"how long have you been collecting these?"

"um.. probably since i was about eight? a lot of these were my grandpa- oh! i mean, our grandpa's. yeah he likes baseball a lot too. we even pitched a ball together at a game once."

"oh really?! that's so cool. it must've been a lot of fun."

"yeah it was! it really inspired me to be a baseball player. well before becoming an idol, obviously."

"how did you go from baseball player to idol anyway?" you giggle.

and from there the conversation on the bedroom floor amongst all the litter of baseball cards went on for a couple of hours until your parents called you both for dinner. baseball still isn't your thing but it's definitely more interesting than you had initially thought.

"yeah there's a picture of it somewhere online. please don't, i look so awkward in it. it's when i still had to wear my glasses.. no don't!!"

jeongin: jeongin is pretty content (and honestly overwhelmed at times) having his two brothers. they may not show it publicly but they're all very close, and they try to spend as much time together as they can with jeongin's busy schedule and the eldest being in the army. so when they find out their parents are planning on adopting a girl, they're all shocked.

"she's not gonna get my room, is she?" asks yoon. "give her jeongin's! he's barely here anyway!"

it was a bit hard getting used to the idea initially but eventually they all come around to it. and the day you come home they're acting like their usual selves despite your parents warning them to act normal for once. they're teasing and playfully punching each other hard enough it could be heard from the room over. in that moment you realize it's gonna be really, really hectic having three older brothers.

and now, a year and a half later, it's still just as hectic if not more so now that you join in on the teasing. tonight your eldest brother isn't able to visit but jeongin is. so now you, jeongin, and yoon are all sitting on the couch playing mario kart. the living room is filled with the sound of mario kart music and pointless little jabs like "why do you always play as peach? that's so boring" and "have you ever actually picked up a controller before?"

"come on girls," you say without taking your eyes off the screen," stop fighting or we'll never finish the game." yoon lands a punch directly to your left shoulder.

jeongin pipes in," speak for yourself. i'm gonna win this game just like i've won all the others."

by the end of the evening, after multiple rounds and a meal on the couch that your very patient mother made for all of you, yoon actually comes out the victor much to jeongin's despair. and so starts another round of teasing and arguing.

"mom!!!! (y/n) called me a mama's boy!!"

[loganlostitall]

Talking to the Moon

Rating: 13+

Word count: Just under 3.5k

Characters: Judith Grimes, Negan Smith (NOT A SHIP!!!!!!); mentions of Carl, Rick, Michonne, Carol, Enid, and R.J.

Setting: Alexandria, post 6 year jump

Content Warnings: sibling grief, talks of death, a little bit of suicidal ideation in here too I think, vulgarity, light talk of typical TWD violence, just lots of sad. Sorry. Fluffy ending tho!

Summary: Judith is getting older, and it’s not fair that Carl isn’t.

Author’s Note: Okaaayy so I really did not want the first piece I published on here to be an angsty vent but life kinda decided to bodyslam me (as usual) so anyways have this lol. I spent all day yesterday writing this in between crying fits and I’m only finishing it now.. oopsie whoopsies. A little context I guess, my older brother was shot and killed 5 years ago, and in 5 years I will be older than he got to be. That’s heavily implemented in here, as well as just the majority of Judith’s dialogue being my own thoughts/feelings. Sometimes it just hits you again, man. My therapist likes me to write it out 🤷🏻 I’m workin on other stuff that isn’t like this so pls bear w me y’all 😭🙏🏽

Beta’d by @murdadixon as alwayysss

Midnight marked her 10th birthday. 

She liked to keep track of time in intervals of five. R.J. was currently an interval of 5. He died at an interval of five. She was reaching an interval of 5 herself, right now. In a demi-decade, she would encounter the age he’d never passed; and in a decade, she would be 5 years older than he’d ever be. Five felt significant, and she did not—she simply felt like her brother’s stand-in. 

Judith sat on the edge of the wooden boardwalk with her legs drawn up to her chest and both arms wrapped around her knees, chin rested atop them, and stared blankly at the water source before her. Tried to mimic its stillness. But she disrupted it, instead, because the tears swimming in her brown eyes splattered down and sent ripples coursing across the surface, growing larger the further they fanned out and expanded. 

That was, similarly, how missing Carl felt. At the start, it was a heavy impact, it obliterated the calmness, and as the years blazed past, it got further away and yet simultaneously… bigger. How could something shrink and grow? How could she grow, every day; and yet consistently feel as if she were being pushed back, made smaller? Small enough to be back in his arms again, like before, like that final night she knew him. 

She would appreciate his last words this time. She would wrangle her brain up into her juvenile hands and pin it down to carve them over the top of her damn hippocampus to keep them there; even if it did mean her blood got everywhere, even if it meant she lost all the rest of her cognitive function. Truthfully, she did not want to function this way. Being medically brain dead would be a graciousness. Or maybe just being bit.

Feeling the fever Carl did would unite them in a way. 

The panels beside her creaked recognizably, a familiar gait and stride, and Judith’s fingers twitched to move instinctively for a gun she knew she wouldn’t brandish. The scuffed tips of two large black boots entered her peripheral vision but she did not turn her gaze. 

“Hey there, Miss Grimes.” 

Negan sat in a loose mirror of Judith’s position—he struggled with holding his legs in exactly the same manner and had to improvise considerably. He got himself comfortable with his legs toward his chest but with a short gap between his thighs, toes pointing outward instead of inward as Judith’s were, and both forearms crossed above his knees to lie his head upon. 

“Don’t really like water, kid, but I’m diving in there after ya if you jump, so please don’t, alright? For me?” 

The preteen wiped her right cheek against her bicep and tilted her head to rest the left cheek against the adjacent knee and look at her guest. Her eyes weren’t really seeing him, but she was trying to acknowledge the fact that he’d joined her. “How’d you get out?” 

He ignored that she ignored his question and instead plastered on the usual grin, even if the edges were heavy and worn down, and lifted a finger to his smile. 

Shhhh, it’s a secret. It went without saying. 

“I should shoot you. I brought my gun,” she pestered, poking a bear with a stick. Only, this bear was a puppy. And the humor behind the words didn’t reach her tone. 

He decided not to address her monotony.

“Mmhmm. Right.” 

“I would.” 

“I know,” he grinned again, more genuinely, and his side administered a dull throb almost out of nostalgia. She had, in fact, shot him. He wouldn’t challenge that.

There were only a few moments that went without speech. Judith found herself gazing ahead again, tapping her right cowgirl boot without tempo because it was simply to alleviate the odd, incessant gnawing in her gut that screamed to bounce her leg, or else. 

“Why don’t I get to have a word?” she blurted out, albeit quietly, almost unaware that Negan could not read her mind and was clueless to what she really meant. The man hummed questioningly as if to say ‘continue,’ and Judith finished verbalizing the thought. “I mean… mom’s a widow, and you’re a widower. Enid is an orphan. Aunt Carol is a v- vi..lo..mah, she lost her daughter Sophia.” The young girl struggled on the pronunciation momentarily before returning to the point. “But what am I? Just… a kid who lost a brother? Don’t I deserve a word? Doesn’t Carl? I think he deserves more than one. I would give him them all.” 

In truth, Negan would not have heard the second half of her statement had they not been knee-to-knee. Even from only having a view of the profile of her face, he could tell that she was fighting back the need to cry. The intensity with which she swallowed, the twitch of the corners of her frown, her small nostrils flaring. She was probably also avoiding allowing her voice to crack. 

Kids don’t ever deserve to feel this way. Adults can hardly even cope with loss. He’d seen it sometimes before, the occasional teen with swollen eyes and dark circles wordlessly offering him a slip with a small, rectangular obituary card stapled to the top left corner to excuse a few days of absence after the passing of a parent, guardian, or otherwise crucial family member. And similar to now, he truly tried his best… when it came to situations like that. It was hard—shit, it still is hard, but after eventually grasping that what most of them wanted was to just be heard (and not to be told that a kick-ass exercise routine could distract a weak mind, or about how being a pussy didn’t get you pussy), he’d take his attendance and approach again with a juniors mitt and baseball to throw at the wall and catch while they cried, screamed, shook, even dissociated some of them. He’d never been a great man, or honestly even a kind teacher; Savior Negan essentially just carried on acting as he had before Lucille’s confrontation, diagnosis, and passing; but the kids who saw through him loved him. When the rest loathed to hear ‘Mr. Smith,’ though no one was to blame for that but himself. To the damaged kids, the whole façade of coolness he tried to upkeep around his classes was utter horseshit because they found him badass when he let them bitch about things without taking to the nearest phone as a mandatory reporter. 

Judith was, arguably, the most mature ten year old with significant trauma that he’d ever sat with. Children that young hadn’t been his area of work, really, but there were a handful of times one of his high school students had to drag along a little sibling because they’d emancipated after the death of the only responsible parent, were granted custody of the kid, and the younger had a day off. Other stories, heavily similar or drastically different, with the same outcome. Judith was more put together than half of the seniors that had dished their shit out on him. In a strictly militant world and with no empire turning to him for guidance, there was no excuse to be assertive around her age bracket. He would tell her she was strong, that she was an Amazon warrior who could brave anything and then have to explain Wonder Woman comics, but the probability was massive that she could only grasp some variation of control over herself in these heavy moments because life now held a sickening promise that anything could be marred with a streak of blood. That you have to always be ready to mourn. 

So fucked up. 

His prior internal assessment to remain silent and give her more time to process her feelings into words proved correct when Judith turned her head back in his direction again with more to express to him. 

“Dad isn’t here anymore to tell me what Carl was like at my age. Or tell me stories about before everything got bad. And mom wasn’t around for all that stuff. But even if she was, I- I hate always hearing about him from other people. About how they won’t ever get to see him grow up. Why does everyone else get to remember my brother? Why doesn’t anybody care that I gotta know he’s not watching me grow up anymore? I want to remember Carl on my own, but I was too little!” Her delicate voice shattered beneath the weight of her last sentence, and the way her eyebrows were flying into all different angles on her face betrayed that her developing mind didn’t know what to do with the guilt that ignited furiously behind her ribs for seemingly such a selfish notion. It was a vicious fact that Judith almost never understood what she was feeling, not acutely. 

But, she trusted Negan. He’d told her things that no one else had cared to let her know. About Abraham. About Glenn. About Sasha, Denise, uncle Daryl. Everyone she loved had been damaged by him in some way, but… they’d all together affected him, too. 

Maybe he changed. Or maybe he’d been keeping this Negan safe. Whatever the case, here he was, out of his cell, not even allowing his knee to bump her own. 

This man had killed people? He was the kindest one here to her. Especially when it came to stuff like this. Other Alexandrians always dismissed her; she didn’t have any “adult” problems worth sparing their time for. How could the big bad wolf be so tame? 

Judith wiped both of her eyes and straightened her left leg out halfway. “If… if Carl hadn’t got bit, what do you think things would be like now?”

And that question certainly beckoned an answer. He had been allowing her to talk as much as she felt necessary tonight, content to simply sit quietly and be an ear for the little girl as she often was for him. His skull would have been split open on one of those prison walls years ago had it not been for his little window and Judith’s spark of rebellious humanity. 

Negan responded honestly, as was always the case with her. “I woulda killed every last one of these dickwipes, and brought you and Carl back to the Sanctuary with me. I don’t kill kids. But I don’t think your brother would have been too crazy about that. Nah, with those titanium balls of his, he would have taken me down, torn all of my people apart limb from fuckin’ limb. Yeah…,” he peered down at Judith, who was just watching him with her elbow on her extended knee and her cheek rested on her palm. No signs of distress. He continued on. “Yeah, Prick thought he was a badass, but Carl? Well, he was the real badass. Anybody could’a killed me, my bet was on him. Catch me off guard, I wouldn’t have fought back. I think he would have stocked one of my big ass trucks with everything he needed and taken off with you knowing he won. But he also would have lost everything.” 

Now, Judith’s energy had shifted back into that murky cloud it had resembled before. Not entirely, but to a noticeable degree. Negan cursed under his breath. 

“Did I scare you talking abou-” 

“You think Carl would have raised me all on his own? You really think he would have done that?”

“Oh, I know it,” Negan nodded adamantly, without aggressive urgency, and chipped a piece of plastic from the aglet of his shoelace to chuck into the water. “Carl loved you more than anyone else, I think.” 

A brittle, cracked sob drew his attention immediately to the little girl beside him, left hand reaching out to comfort on instinct and then hovering uselessly between them. Judith gave her permission with action instead of words; turning her legs off to the side to be able to roll onto her right hip and notch herself against Negan’s side. She rested her head against his knee and old tears from her cheek seeped through the thin material of his jumper. The previously awkward arm dropped around her own and he settled for hanging his hand at an outward angle away from her body. He’d comfort the kid but any one of the adults here would send Michonne into a goddamned stroke by reporting that he’d made an attempt against her daughter's life by, say, scratching the back of her head. Some asinine bullshit. He wouldn’t risk it, and not because of himself. No, he’s a big boy and can handle his own conflicts. But Judith would get in so much unnecessary trouble. 

After taking a minute to gather herself, Judith whispered, “I think I would have liked that better.” 

“…What, Carl taking care of ya?” He queried. “Y’know that means you wouldn’t have your mom, or dad, or-”

“Mommies and daddies die before their kids do, or they’re supposed to. Siblings are- they’re supposed to be there the whole time you grow up, and after. You’re supposed to live your life together. And they’re not supposed to die before you mom and dad do.” 

“Kid-”

“I want Carl. I’d give up anyone here to get him back.” 

It proved remarkably difficult given how much taller he was than her, but Negan managed to make do. He tilted his neck to a sideways angle and rested his head on top of hers whilst fishing through his right pocket. 

Judith peeked up at him. “What’re you doing? Are you gonna stab me for making you sad? I’ve still got my-”

“No. Don’t be nosey,” he goaded and even ventured so far as to stick his tongue out and wrinkle his nose. Her head dropped back down to his leg just as quickly as it rose, and Negan’s fingers closed around the surprise. 

“Sounds like a candy wrapper…,” she mumbled, still too lost in her own head and the darkness residing. 

Two bright blue pouches withdrew from his pocket, and his brown eyes traveled skyward. “Moon’s right above our heads now. Means it’s midnight. I got ya a gift.” 

A second, smaller pair of brown irises gazed upon the same sky, and her bottom lip began to give way into trembles again so Negan damn near shoved the quite literally sweet present directly in front of her face. 

Judith blinked, eyes focusing on the text in front of them that stood out violently against the package design. “What’s ‘Razzles?’” A small hand accepted the curious, but still exciting new treat, and read the yellow script surrounding the name at the top and bottom. “‘First it’s candy, then it’s gum’? What’s gum?” 

Negan had already ripped his open. “You’re about to give me one fat ass kiss, Miss Grimes,” he mused delicately, tossing three colorful disks into his mouth.

His much younger counterpart followed suit, unsure of how to react while the candy crunched before a scintillating smile broke out across her face and two more pieces joined the first. “Where’d you get these?”

“…Okay, don’t laugh,” he deadpanned, and couldn’t help but smirk when Judith narrowed her eyes at him and raised an accusatory eyebrow, still blissfully chewing away. “I’ve gotta secret admirer.” He drew his shoulders up into a loose shrug, threw his hands out in a ‘surprise!’ gesture and dropped his mouth open to an overly enthused smile as the preteen choked on gum. 

“WHAT?!? What do you mean?! Tell me, tell me!” 

He wouldn’t comment on how much tension finally dissipated from his body and mind at the eager enthusiasm on Judith’s face. This had all been so… glum. “Don’t know, but they slip me goodies through the bars on the window. I asked Father Freaky for some paper to draw, keep my mind busy y’know, and left a note up there requesting a special birthday gift for my best friend. They got dropped in this morning.” 

“So, someone here in Alexandria?” she asked, munching her way through her bag of sweets. There was a twinkle in her eyes, finally, so he’d entertain it. 

He shrugged idly. “I’d assume so. I’ve got my fingers crossed there’s some freaky deaky coming my way!!” 

“Oh, ew. There it is, you ruined this whole thing.” Judith pushed on the side of his knee with both hands to amass enough force to actually shove his leg over. 

“Damn. This whole thing, huh?” 

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, her mouth now so full of chewed up gray gum that speaking proved difficult. 

Negan chomped down on a considerable number of candies all at once and reached for Judith’s own pack of Razzles. “Alright, I’ll just take this then, since I fucked up your birthday and all.” A deep, rumbling laugh burst forth from up out of his chest when the ten year old shouted ‘NO!!!’ and a huge wad of gum rolled out of her mouth to plink into the water and bob along to float elsewhere. The pout her bottom lip garnished was impressive and Negan glanced around to the houses in the distance behind them, all of the windows being dark with the quiet insinuation of sleep, to ensure the absence of scrutinizing eyes before taking one of Judith’s hands into his own to unload half the contents of his own candy until her palm was overflowing and a few stray pieces thumped down against the wood. Negan administered the 5 second rule with a quickness and claimed them for himself. 

“Thanks,” she chimed faintly, and set about organizing the surplus of thin, cylindrical candies into separate groups of yellow, purple, orange, pink, and blue. 

Negan tucked his hand back to his side and pointedly did not give any attention to the prominent droop Judith’s shoulders adopted afterward. He wondered fleetingly if anyone in town ever just… gave the kid a hug. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Really. It’s not like I went out and found these myself.” He pointed one of his own bits of candy at her and added, “Well, you can always just find my paramour and thank them yourself.”                

She tilted her head back against his arm to smile up at him. “You just want me to get you deets. You have a crush on this person already, uncle Negan?” 

“I’ll love anybody who gives me attention at this point,” he shrugged again, tone steady despite the admission. “Aren’t I hopelessly in love with you, Miss Grimes?” 

Her braid swung and the sheriff’s hat far too oversized for her head shifted slightly out of place when she nodded. She tucked the intertwined strands of hair behind her ear after they fell into her face and tickled her nose. “I never hear mom say that she loves me.” 

“Ah, she does.” He tapped a finger against his temple once he knew Judith was looking at him and would see it. “She’s got a lot going on up here. But I bet if you went up to Mich and told her first, she’d say it back.” 

The young girl nodded again, though this motion was a simple, stiff jerk and only once. Drastically unlike the one he’d earned for himself just moments prior. Judith didn’t believe that Michonne really loved her, but she could easily surmise that he did. “Love you, too,” she murmured and a hefty sigh followed closely behind. Judith tapped the toes of her boots against the boardwalk and followed Negan’s offered instruction to bravely attempt blowing her first bubble. It snapped into a sticky disaster on her lips. The pair fell into a comfortable, innocent, expectationless silence. Negan eventually polished off the last of his candy and crumpled the wrapper up to tuck away into the pocket he retrieved it from, along with Judith’s once she’d finished her own. She was, reasonably, exhausted, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that Judith had drifted off leaning against him. 

Next thing he knew, the clouds were graying and little hands were nudging his arm, accompanied by a sleep-slurred voice telling him to wake up. His legs were numb from having remained in the same seated position for what had to be at least a couple hours, but Negan still managed to get himself up into his feet and follow her along as she led the way to his cell. A sheepish smile and tired shrug was all he could muster when her eyes lingered on the lock and bobby-pin discarded haphazardly in the middle of the concrete. He took his place on his cot and watched the child close the bars behind him and slide the lock back into place. 

Judith turned from him to walk away, but threw a drowsy smile over her shoulder and waved. And pointless as it was, he spoke after she’d left and her shadow had already passed by his solitary window.

“Happy birthday, kid.” 

I think I get attached to characters like Negan who are dangerous and have soft hearts because that’s exactly what my brother was like.

I miss my Carl ❤️‍🩹

This is my first time writing for TWD, and the first work I’m posting in over 2 years, so I hope it’s good for y’all 🥺

[blackgirlalmighty]

Personal vent post incoming I don’t know how to do a read more on mobile I’m sorry:

I’m so sick of struggling like this. I am so broke all the fucking time and I feel like a failure and a loser and a shitty person bc my younger autistic sibling is my dependent and we’re barely making it. He was denied disability. We have no parents to live with or ask for help. They’re dead. Grandparents are dead too. I work full time and technically ‘make too much’ for food stamps or rent assistance or utility assistance

I can barely focus cause I’m so stressed out all the time. I have no motivation no energy to do anything even things that make me happy. My health is in the shitter and some days (like today) I’m literally shaking from not having enough to eat. I am in fucking eating disorder recovery and I have to lie to my care team about how much I’m eating because the answer isn’t that I’m purposely restricting it’s that I can’t afford groceries for two people every week.

It’s not always this urgently bad. Today I am freaking out because I am super short on rent and we have very very little food in the house and I have no idea what I’m gonna fucking do. I’ve texted a friend and an older brother (who literally just got out of homelessness himself) out of desperation but they’re not getting back to me yet. I just don’t know what to do anymore. Every single plan and plan B and plan C I had in place this entire year to try to carry us through financially either fell through or some bullshit happened that cleaned me out, starting with when we moved and the movers charged me $400 over what they told me initially and put my account negative and started the shitty chain reaction I’ve been fighting off all year. Every 2 weeks my account goes negative before I get my check. Every single month electric company is sending me a disconnect notice that I just barely beg them to let me pay a tiny bit of the balance to last me until the next one.

Finally started getting my feet under me a little in September then my fucking car broke down, $2k repair bill. Over $300 a month to pay that off with no ability to change the amount. That took every single cent of my yearly piddly raise and then some.

Then 2 weeks ago my cat starts pissing blood. Banfield can’t see her so she gets rushed to urgent care vet and thankfully she’s okay now but that was $400. The last of my teeny tiny cushion I had to try to prepare for days like today.

I’ve pulled from my 401k as much as I’m legally able. I’ve borrowed from friends and relatives who barely have anything themselves. My younger sibling had a tiny inheritance from his grandma and that’s almost completely gone now which breaks my fucking heart.

Where do we go from here? What the fuck am I supposed to do? Do we just get evicted and try to find a shelter? Do I sell off everything I own? Everyone around me seems to have their shit together and I feel like I’m drowning and drowning and drowning. My mom died and trusted my sibling’s care to me and I feel like I’ve let her down.

[acnhretreat]

wow this post sure got long.

i’ve been wanting to make some more animal crossing art

i’m getting used to drawing again after almost 10 years of stopping (with like one drawing here and there every couple years) so i’ve been warming up letting myself draw poorly and it’s been extremely freeing, since the reason i quit drawing to begin with was because i started feeling like i wasn’t good enough. at that time i quit drawing and got into abstract painting because “you don’t have to be good at it” but newsflash to past insecure me you don’t have to be good at any art to make it. and while logically i know this, and i actually believe it deeply with my whole soul that you do not have to be “””good””” at art to create art and in fact it’s very human to create art and whether art is “””good””” or not is subjective anyway and i’m genuinely, and always have been, a huge fan of “””bad””” art because so much “””bad””” art is sooo good. and i feel this way about like all mediums. catch me consuming and appreciating all kinds of art all over the place. but, sorry gonna overshare for a sec, i’ve got an eensy bit of a personality disorder that makes me an eensy bit insecure and filled with an almost unshakable sense of shame and humiliation. well, it’s my fucking life goal to break free from that shame. and thank god, the older i’m getting the stronger my sense of self and self worth are becoming. and finally, i’m allowing myself to explore drawing again, which i used to do and enjoy for hours upon hours every day of my childhood. drawing was my main form of escape and artist expression aside from writing. i create all different types of art but drawing used to feel like mine. it came so natural to me i never thought twice about it. i let a small comment that someone made get to me. and i am determined to concur this. i was 16 at the time, or maybe had just turned 17. when i stopped drawing. and i’m 27 now and it feels soo freeing to let myself draw and not be “great” at it.

since i was about 20 i’ve been trying to get myself back into drawing, dipping my toes in drawing just one little thing every couple years. i felt so stressed because i had a lot of artist’s acquaintances. i grew up in a pretty artsy town in northern california. and i remember when i started trying to draw again, i felt so frustrated that my peers had never stopped drawing, they continued to practice and got better. whereas i stopped and got worse. and i compared myself and felt so angry. i felt like i would be just as skilled as them had i never given it up! and it made it so hard for me to start back up again. my drawing abilities had regressed to the skill level i was at when i was in like 4th/5th grade. i wasn’t even at the level that i was when i had stopped drawing at age 16/17. and it took me a long time to get over the fact that i’m going to have to practice a whole lot more to get back to the place i left off.

this year i decided i don’t care anymore. i keep a sketchbook in my bed under the pillow on the side i don’t sleep on. pencils and markers within reach. and i’ve been allowing myself to draw whatever, whenever i feel like it. silly art, vent art. sometimes i want to draw but all i can do is write on the page and that’s alright too. i’ve spent the last 10 years mostly just writing and painting abstract to express myself, so that’s just what flows easier sometimes. but i’ve been creating. drawing stuff. the other day i thought to myself “i havent really drawn a picture of spongebob since i was a kid” so i took out my markers and i drew a really crude drawing of spongebob. and then i drew patrick and squidward and sandy and a jellyfish. and it did look like a kid drew it lol. and it was so fun to make. A couple months ago i took out a crayon and drew along with Steve on some episodes on Blue’s Clue’s like i used to do when i was 5. Steve actually taught me how to draw a lot of basic stuff. and that felt so nice to imitate what he draws on screen and get my hands comfortable creating shapes intentionally again.

the other day i drew a whole bunch of pictures of Stitches and some of them turned out looking real freaky and i actually was pretty happy with the end result, having a bunch of blobby drawings of my favorite animal crossing villager all on one page lol.

i feel so inspired by the animal crossing art i see online it makes me excited to get to draw more. sometimes i don’t have a ton of creative energy to draw a big elaborate drawing like i used to when i was a teen but i’m gonna baby-steps my way up to drawing more and more elaborate and interesting animal crossing artwork. not even to share with others people or anything, although i might someday. but just for me. for the love of my favorite game and for the love of drawing

[fandom-blackhole]

I'll See You in my Dreams- Soulmate AU

AN: First off, sorry I didn't have this up earlier, I went through so tough writer's block that is kicking my ass and my school year has begun so I had to focus on that for a bit. Second, I wanted to say, the next thing I write is probably going to be the next part for Merman!Din because I hit 100 kudos on the fic over on Ao3. Third, starting probably towards the end of this week, maybe Thursday or Friday, I am going to start character takeovers. I will make a post about who it will be and how long it will be around during the morning and reblog it throughout the day along with any disclaimers/rules. I am thinking this is something I can do during the weekends when I don't have classes and Im not writing. Love you all and I hope you enjoy this fic!

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Reader

Words: 1K (sorry its short....)

Summary: What if you, someone from Earth, miraculously were soulmates to someone in a galaxy far, far away?

Warnings: descriptions of pains, sadness, yearning, soft love confessions and promises, unedited bc I am tired and just wanted to post this

The dreams, oh, the dreams….

They come and they never stop, always leaving wondering and wanting, aching.

You do not understand them, what they meant, if anything other than a manifestation of desires, but when he appears you feel like you are in another world, another galaxy all your own, made for you and him alone. He tells you you are his one, his only, and your heart soars with every small touch and smile. His whisper of your name, and promises sworn in a language so foreign, yet familiar after years of their whispered softness, cause you to feel like you're floating, like you are where you are meant to be, in this loving man's arms.

Only...each day as you wake, you come crashing down into the same disappointing reality, reminding yourself that he is not there, and he is only a cruel trick your mind plays upon you heart and soul each night, laughing as you wake to the same cold loneliness of day, ripped from the warmth of his arms that hold you each night. It had been like this since you could remember, even as you were a child he would appear in your dreams and ask if you wanted to play with him. He told you stories that his family, his culture taught him, the things that were even at that age obviously very important to him.nYou parents would praise you for your creativity when you repeated the stories to them. They never understood.

Your parents didn't understand why you never let go of this imaginary figure in your dreams. They couldn't comprehend why even after you grew away from the imaginary friend stage you still talked about the boy that simply did not exist to them.

The older you got, the more you realized that you wanted no one else but him. No one else could make you smile or laugh the way he could. No one else made you feel safe the way he did. No one could come close to making you feel cherished or content the way he did. No one could touch just how loved you felt each night when he gave you that shining smile, followed by an endearment in his sacred language- he had attempted to teach you a few basics at one point, but he only kept chuckling and teasing you softly as you tripped over the words he said so effortlessly.

It wasn’t until you were graduating high school and looking into colleges when it dawned on you how much you loved the man in your dreams. How you would never be happy with another, not knowing he was there, even if he was not real. You would never find anyone better than the boy you had watched grow into a man, than the person who listened to you talk endlessly about your life, the one you told all your secrets to never holding any information back because you knew he would never judge you. But this, this realization you kept to yourself, not wanting to share and find heartbreak from the one person you knew you would never be able to recover from.

So you pulled back slowly, never fully distancing yourself how could you, but you tried to never come too close, fearing the pain that would follow if you did. And you hated every second of it.

As you progressed through college, you both lamented your stresses to the other seeking comfort in just venting or just listening to the other’s voice. You were busy with school, stressing over finals and papers, while he was worried about his people, his covert who he was now lead and teach, he worried about the future generations as his people’s numbers kept diminishing.

Life and stresses seemed to take over and pass in rhythms. Soon you both found yourselves in a comfortable dance, but one that had each side aching for more but unable to ask for it.

By the time you graduated from school, on track already to work your dream job, you found yourself suddenly feeling hollow. A feeling that started showing up in dreams, a feeling that was only suppressed when you brushed against his hand, or he reached out and hugged you before you both woke. But it did not take long for the feeling to spread into your waking hours. Life became numb at best, painful at most. The feeling only getting worse as you were with him. Some nights it felt like your entire body was screaming for the man you could not have.

But it changed one night suddenly. You had not even got to say hello or hi to him before he pulled you into his embrace, whispering words of defeat, whispering how he could no longer hold back, being apart from you for so long hurt him. He said that his very soul was hurting and he just needed to hold you for the night. And you caved. You caved and held him as tightly as he held you, hot tears slipping down your cheeks as you hiccupped the words you never wanted to tell him. You stuttered through devotions and dozens and dozens of ‘i love yous’, and you were overjoyed, bursting at the seams when he returned each with his own love confession, with his own devotions for you. And you only cried harder, finding yourself slowly being soothed by his rumbling voice in his chest and his calm words.

You both stayed like that. The night ticking by but moving slower than normal, or it could just be the quiet nothing of the world as you held tight to each other. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, hopes to freeze in time and never wake again if it meant staying here wrapped in the other’s soft love and body.

But….like each night come to pass, you found yourself being lulled and pulled away from the man you loved so forcefully. He could feel it too, you knew he could by the way his arms tightened, and as his final words were whispered into your ear before you were ripped apart.

“Mesh’la, my fierce love, I swear on the name of my ancestors, that I, Paz Viszla, will find away to reach you in daylight. I will come for you, cyare, I promise with all my being I will come to you.”

700 Fic Taglist: @shellyc9 @ben-is-a-hoe @mrs-ghuleh @moodsare @mysticalgalaxysalad @eri16 @elinedjarin @reverielibrary @bunny-fair @justnat15 @ollovaemisc @indycaelumskywalker @just-someone11 @peach-child @remmyswritings @gotham-city-uber-driver @mindidjarin @kirinpl @katie-sheep-111 @lovecatsnotpeople @3braincells @bunny-fair @phoenixhalliwell @skellylady @kikiinden @lothiriel9 @misguidedandbeguiled

Permanent Tags: @mysticalgalaxysalad @phoenixhalliwell @moodsare @perpetual-fangirl900 @night-snows00 @dumbass-simp-for-fredweasley @stargazingthenightaway @meabravo @just-here-for-the-moment

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[makoodlesarchive]

when i was young i fell into a river

pairing: kirishima x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: none, really! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff i guess?

notes: hello, it's me, back again with some writing! it's been a long time and i'm very sorry about that, but i've finally gotten around to writing and posting my spirited away au! i'm v stressed with college so this turned out more vent-y than i had originally intended, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway! thank you all for being so patient with me, i am endlessly grateful for you

The dream is the same as always, comforting in its familiarity.

A salt-scented breeze cools your sweat-soaked brow as you pause behind one of the sliding screen doors, the rice paper windows doing nothing to block out the chatter of the other workers. The bubbling noise of the bathhouse is constant, and the quiet little moments you steal away for yourself in the middle of the working day is the only solitude you’ve gotten since you came here. The work is physically back-breaking, but you know that you’re working towards a goal. It’s just a shame that you can’t remember exactly what that goal is.

One of the other girls calls your name, and you sigh as your unofficial break comes to an end. You slip back into the room, ignoring the way the frog spirits snicker and hold their noses as you pass. They like to complain a lot about your human stench, but it doesn’t stop them from threatening to eat you every time you make a mistake. Fear, you’ve found, is an uncomfortably successful motivator.

The days bleed into one another, full of scrubbing dark wooden floors and the rich earthy scents of the herbal mixes they use in the baths. The spirits that frequent the bathhouse, that once inspired so much awe and fear in your heart, become so commonplace that you hardly spare them a glance anymore. From the cackling masked spirits that always travel in threes to the grinning cat spirits to the sombre, unspeaking river spirits, you only go as far as to offer them a polite bow before scurrying out of their way. They never spare you any attention, anyway -- most of the time, the spirits’ eyes seem to look right through you.

All but one, that is.

He looks to be a boy around your age, but appearances can be deceiving around here. His red eyes are often dull and blank, but even so they have a certain ageless quality about them that no human twelve-year-old could ever possess. His scarlet hair sticks up in gravity-defying spikes, and his skin is as smooth and clear as running water. His face is often stuck in a carefully cultivated blank expression; the only thing about him that doesn’t seem intimidatingly otherworldly are the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

He helped you once, when you first came here. The rare act of kindness had stuck in your head, made even more remarkable in the face of the following weeks and months of harsh work and cruel co-workers. You wonder if he remembers; he doesn’t often look at you, but sometimes when he does you swear you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

Two of the girls start yelling at each other, arguing heatedly over the way the work is being divided. A foreman appears to break up the fight, but then they both start shouting at him instead. You take the moment of distraction to relax, wincing at the pull of your tired muscles in the back of your neck. All the other girls working at the bath house are older and bigger than you, which means you need to work twice as hard to keep up with them and prove that you’re worth keeping around.

In the brief moment of rest, your eyes are drawn slowly to the corridor, where guests and workers alike bustle past as they travel to the treatment rooms and bathtubs deeper into the bathhouse. As if you’ve conjured him just by thinking about him, the boy stands in the doorway.

You straighten up on instinct, suddenly self-conscious of your sweat-soaked body and dishevelled uniform. He’s not even looking your way, preoccupied with the two girls who are still yelling at the frog foreman. Slowly though, his eyes began to travel the room, and you take a deep breath and hold it as his dull ruby gaze lands on you like a physical weight. You crack a nervous smile, feeling the muscles in your cheeks that have gone unused for weeks ache at the strain, and raise a hand to give him a tiny wave.

For just a moment, that blankness in his face seems to quiver and fall away. He smiles back.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat. You’ve had the same dream, or some variation of it, regularly ever since you were twelve years old and while it’s become familiar to you, you still find yourself feeling vaguely panicked when you wake up after it, as though you’ve forgotten something very important.

Once your heartbeat has calmed down a little, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The weak, milky light of dawn filters in through the windows, lighting your apartment up just enough so that you don’t have to turn on a light to make your way around. You take your tea out to the balcony and sit, gazing out at the purplish early morning sky.

Most of the time when you wake up from those dreams you feel blessedly lucky to be living alone with no one to question or bother you, but sometimes you can’t help but be overcome by overwhelming loneliness. The dreams are silly and most of the time they don’t even make any sense, but in the aftermath of them you’re always left with a vague sense of unfulfillment, though you can’t put your finger exactly on what it is you’re missing. You always end up exactly like this; sitting outside on your balcony in the early morning light, drinking tea alone and desperately wishing for something more.

You sigh, and go back inside.

The dream is the same, but different.

The garden is in full bloom, greenery overlaid with bursts of beautiful bright colours. Camellias, rhododendrons, and oleanders wave and shiver gently in the warm breeze, and apple blossoms hang heavily from a nearby tree. The flowering garden is enormous and maze-like, and you have yet to see it in any state other than fully flourishing.

It’s a beautiful place, especially after the hot, cramped working quarters of the bathhouse. You inhale the sweetly fragranced air and feel the knot of tension in your spine unfurl; it feels like the first time that you’ve been able to breathe all week, but that’s not the only reason that you’ve found yourself outside.

At the bottom of the garden, the grass drops off into a sheer drop. The cliff face overlooks a seemingly endless ocean, and you perch a safe distance from the drop before leaning back in the grass. The sky is an almost surreally deep blue and you watch as enormous fluffy clouds float by, looking as though they’ve been painted on a jewel-blue canvas.

It’s not the first time you’ve had this dream, and you know what you’ll see if you keep patiently watching.

It doesn’t take long — it never does. You time your lunch breaks precisely, all so you get to see this sight.

The clear blue sky makes it so much easier to spot the shiny white scales, flashing jewel-bright in the sunlight. The dragon writhes in the sky, streaking through the air like a great serpent caught in the wind. Even from this distance, you can see the knife-like teeth, the great sharp claws that gleam like pyrite, and the twisting horns that erupt from his head like daggers made from calcified bone. He looks deadly, a living weapon that swims through the air like a salmon in open water, but the sight of him makes something settle in your stomach.

You wonder what it would feel like to fall through the air with nothing but the wind to break your fall. You imagine it must feel like freedom.

The dragon flutters through the air, buoyed by the gentle sea breeze. If you didn’t know better, you might almost think that he was showing off — his movements are hypnotic, dreamlike, more like a dance than anything. His scales glow pearlescent in the midday sun, otherworldly and earthly all at once.

You could happily stay and watch him skim through the sky forever, but already the bell is being rung to call all workers back into the bathhouse. You heave a sigh so deep it feels as though your chest is about to crack with the force of it, before hauling yourself to your feet.

Your break is over, and now it’s back to work.

Sometimes you find it difficult to tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake. It feels as though everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever. You don’t get to rest when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, because the dreams just keep coming and coming. Sometimes you don’t feel like your life is real when you’re awake.

Riding on the train has always been therapeutic, especially at this time of the early morning. The sun rising lazily over the horizon sends milky threads of purple and pink across the cloudy sky, and you cradle your chin in your hand as you gaze out across the moving landscape. You love these little trips, feeling more at home in the creaky, overfull train carriage than you do in your own bedroom sometimes, though you can’t quite work out where that particular feeling comes from.

You know sometimes that stories end with “And then I woke up — it was only a dream”, but in your experience the story simply doesn’t end. You cannot fully wake up without the tail-ends of your dreams clinging to you for the rest of the day, and you never fully sleep. You just dream, dream, dream.

Sighing, you lean your head back against the seat that you’re slumped in. The train carriage is too full, and you were lucky to get a seat in the first place — from your vantage point, you watch as people sway in tandem with the motion of the train. It’s almost hypnotic, how they undulate back and forth with every turn, brushing against each other only to be pulled apart again by the lurching train.

Through the sea of bodies, you catch a man’s eye. It breaks the monotony of the morning commute and your own spiralling thoughts, and your spine straightens unconsciously. He quirks an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one would be able to safely accuse him of having done it.

You look away, startled for no good reason. Do you know him? He feels familiar in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. The train rattles on, and it takes several long minutes before you work up the nerve to glance the man’s way again. He’s still watching you, but you’re ready for it this time. His attention isn’t such a shock, and you allow your eyes to wander over his face properly.

You must know him, you think. Your eyes track over his features as though they’re winding over a well-worn path, admiring the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips and the arch of his eyebrows over his intense, watchful eyes.

He smiles at you, and it feels as though you’re sharing a secret from across the crowded train carriage. You smile back — it’s just a small tug of the corners of your mouth, but it’s the most you’ve smiled in months. Longer, maybe.

In the middle of the carriage a woman laughs at something her friend has said and sways backward, blocking your view of the stranger. It feels like a loss.

The train trundles onwards, and the carriage gradually empties out. You watch people step off the train with friends, with their heads ducked low, lost in thought, arguing over the phone, distracted with their book bags. By the time it comes to your stop, the man is gone.

You try not to feel disappointed as you step off the train — it’s silly, after all. You don’t know the man, and whatever you thought you felt as you looked at each other was surely all in your own head. Your head has been awfully full, recently.

As you step off the train you grapple with your bag, side-stepping a businessman who is busy shouting down the phone at some unfortunate coworker. You’re distracted, which is the only reasonable explanation for how long it takes you to realise that the man from the train is standing in front of you.

“Oh.” You blurt, startled. You had already begun to resign yourself to never seeing him again, so you can’t help but feel distinctly caught off guard at the sight of him standing before you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The man says. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s waiting for — as it is, you get completely distracted by his eyes. You hadn’t noticed on the train, but now that he’s up close you see that they’re a truly unusual deep burgundy. He tilts his head when you remain silent, and bites his lip. Now that you’re really looking, you notice how sharp his teeth are. “You’ve barely changed at all.”

You blink at him. “Er…” You trail off nervously. You don’t recognise him, but you feel like you know him. Clearly, he thinks that he knows you.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Meeting again on a train?” He smiles, and it’s an impossibly knowing expression. You don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a look that intimate in your life, though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Someone collides hard with your shoulder and you stagger for balance. You only look away from the man for a mere second, but it’s enough; when you look again, he’s gone.

You take to walking. There’s a wooded area behind the town, and you enjoy traipsing idly through the trees. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. It’s soothing, being surrounded by nature like this. It reminds you of childhood — the simplicity of being able to jump over tree roots under a canopy of pale green leaves, of being able to leave all your thoughts and stress at the boundary of the forest.

It’s where you come after waking sweat-soaked and disoriented from a dream that clings to you like a burr, where you walk among the ferns and the needle-leaved weeds until you manage to shake the last vestiges of memory from your mind. You need it, especially in the mornings where you wake up with the acrid scent of herbal cleanser stinging in your nose or the bite of hard calluses on your palms from non-existent rough cloths. On mornings like that, you walk and walk until you no longer feel as though you’re more alive in your dreams than you are in reality.

Deep in the forest is a great red facade, painted a flaking, faded red. You wander by it frequently, admiring the overgrown greenery that crawls up the walls like reaching fingers, the mossy stone guardian that stands sentinel amongst the cracked flagstones that lead into the tunnelled entrance. You’ve asked around in the town, curious about what exactly this building was for, but most of the locals either don’t know what building you’re talking about or admit that they’re not sure. One man told you that the facade was built for a theme park in the 90s that had ended up going bust in the recession, and that the building only looked old.

You remain unconvinced on that front. The building has the kind of presence that only very old things have; it feels like it’s watching you.

For the most part, your walks in the forest are peaceful. Recently though, you’ve found yourself plagued by an insistent, irritating sense of deja vu. You don’t know where it’s coming from, and it hits you at the strangest of times — when you’re making tea, or in the bath, or cleaning your apartment, or on the train, or admiring the sky on a cloudless day.

The man from the train is the boy in your dreams. It takes you weeks to come to that realisation. You just wake up in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday, with wide eyes and clammy skin and his name slipping from the forefront of your mind.

It shouldn’t be possible, but once it dawns on you, you’re certain of it.

Even stranger is that once you realise it, it feels as though you see him everywhere. You see flashes of red hair when you’re walking down the street, when you’re grocery shopping, when you’re walking home late at night. It’s only ever the barest glance out of the corner of your eye, just overt enough for you to know it’s him, but subtle enough for you to question yourself immediately after.

One night, you travel to a local city to meet some old school friends. At night, the city seems to pulse. The music from seedy clubs spills out into the neon-lit streets, muffled shouted arguments echoes from alleyways and apartments alike, and the streets are peppered with people either scurrying or stumbling home, with very little variation. Though the perpetually overcast sky hides any trace of the moon or stars, the streetlamps reflect in the ever-present stagnant puddles littering the street, lighting them up in varying shades of sickly yellow.

At night, the city seems alive. Chronically ill and struggling to breathe, maybe, but clinging to life all the same.

The way the neon lights flicker in the gloomy darkness, just barely illuminating the shadows of people hurrying through the streets to get in out of the rain, reminds you of something you can’t quite remember. It sits in the back of your mind like a sour taste, but no matter how much you reach for the memory it remains just out of reach.

You spend most of the night staring out of the steamed up window of the pub, entranced by the sight of the night streets and frustrated by the memories that seem to dangle just out of reach. You know that it doesn’t make for good company, and you feel guilty for that. Your friends don’t seem overly surprised at your detachment. You’ve been drifting away for years, and though tonight was supposed to be all about reconnecting it seems clear that it’s not going to work.

When you eventually stand up to leave, with forced smiles and awkward goodbyes, you can’t help but feel melancholy settle over you like a second skin. As you slip out of the pub and onto the dark streets, the thought crosses your mind that you’re not used to being alone like this. It’s a silly thought, really; you’ve been alone for years. But sometimes, in those liminal moments between waking and sleeping, you swear you can hear the gentle drowsy breaths of dozens of people sleeping all around you, as though you’re surrounded on all sides. On those nights you wake up hot and claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but never feeling lonely.

It is probably your own fault, you reflect as you drift down the sidewalk like a ghost. It’s difficult to make an effort to know people when you feel as though you don’t know yourself. You don’t know how to bridge the distance between yourself and other people. You think sometimes that you’re missing chunks of yourself.

You pass an open shopfront that’s serving street food, and glance briefly in at the kitchen. The cook is illuminated only dimly in the smoky room, standing out as a shadow figure more than anything, and for a split second you could swear that he has six arms. You look away quickly and carry on walking — you don’t want to look again only to be proven wrong. You want to preserve that little second of magic strangeness for as long as you can.

The puddles on the street seem like they’re glowing with the light reflected from the neon streetlamps, and you weave your way carefully around them to avoid getting your feet wet. The night has a strange quality about it, almost as though it’s holding its breath.

Considering the combination of your pensive mood and the expectant air of the evening, you don’t feel surprised at all when you look up from the wet cobblestones to find the man standing only a few feet ahead of you.

He smiles like he’s nervous, his gaze tracking carefully over your face. In his hands, he’s holding flowers. Camellias, you think. It’s the first time since you first saw him on the train that hasn’t been a fleeting glance out of the corner of your eye— he’s here in front of you and he’s real and solid and sturdy. He seems more substantial than the streets around you, than your friends back at the pub had been.

“Do you remember me?” He asks, voice soft as though he’s afraid of the answer.

“Remember you?” You croak. It feels as though the words are catching inside your throat. “No. But I’ve seen you every night in my dreams for years.”

If that’s the answer he’s expecting, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at you, your face, your body. You wonder exactly it is that he’s seeing. “These are for you.” He says eventually, holding out the flowers. “I didn’t- I wanted to bring you something, when I saw you again. And I know that you always liked the garden.”

He’s talking as if the places that you’ve dreamed about are real. It doesn’t come as the earth-shattering surprise you might have expected — rather, it feels like a key turning in an old lock. A click, and then a sense of yes, that’s right.

You take the flowers, and clutch them to your chest. They’re a fleshy pink, with a vibrant yellow centre. The petals are as soft as velvet. Holding them feels like holding a safety blanket. “Thank you.” It’s the only thing that you can manage to say right now. Your thoughts are too full, and nothing else makes it out of your mouth.

It’s rather startling, the feelings that bubble up in your chest. It feels like something has just been unlocked, as though you had stored away all this emotion somewhere deep in your ribcage and then forgotten about it only for it to resurface at this precise moment, for this precise person.

“Eijirou.” You croak. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

His whole face brightens, and his eyes sparkle. “Yes. That’s me. You do remember!”

They’re not quite memories, you don’t think. They come in dreamlike flashes — the garden, an ocean, train tracks, the feral snarling of a dragon with sharp teeth, hard work and hot food, friends.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Kirishima is saying, his face open and earnest. “But I told you that I’d come and find you again, remember?”

You do remember, sort of. A flash of a warm hand holding yours, pushing you forward over a boundary between one world and another, and a goodbye whispered behind you that sounds like a promise.

“You saved me.”

Kirishima laughs, though his eyes look a little shiny. “It was the other way around, actually. I would have stayed trapped in that bathhouse forever, if it weren’t for you.”

“The bathhouse.” You murmur, wide-eyed. It was real, real, real.

“Things are different now.” He edges closer to you. He’s large and imposing and taller than you, but he’s hunched slightly in an attempt to make himself unthreatening. “That’s why it took so long for me to come for you. Things were changing. Me and Katsuki run the bathhouse now.”

Katsuki. In your mind's eye you see a boy with wild blond hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, a boy who gives you extra rice when he can manage and takes over parts of your chores when you get so tired that you’re fit to pass out.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait.” He says quietly, and the tide of emotion that you had just barely been holding at bay comes crashing over you. Before the first tear has welled over the edge of your eyelids, Kirishima has stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. The flowers are crushed between your chests as you cry.

“I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.” You cry into his silk suikan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave again.”

You don’t release your grip on him. You’re not willing to take the chance.

After a moment, Kirishima speaks again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” You echo, finally pulling away. “Go where?”

“Home.” He says, and he means the bathhouse. He means the spirit world.

“You want me to work for you?”

“I want you to help us run it.” He corrects. The distinction is important for both of you — though the memories are distant, you both know what it feels like to have your names and voices erased so cleanly that it makes you wonder if you ever existed fully at all.

“I don’t know anything about running a bathhouse. Especially not one for spirits.” You say, but Kirishima just laughs.

“You were always a hard worker. You’ll learn as you go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

You want to say yes. The word beats in your head like a drum, and you can’t think of a good reason to say no. The bathhouse. Home. The chance to feel real and awake at the same time.

“Okay.” You say on a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “Stay with me, this time.”

When Kirishima’s face lights up in a smile, it’s the first time that you think you can accurately describe someone as incandescently happy. “Good luck getting rid of me again.”

You laugh, feeling nearly delirious with relief and joy. It’s real. He’s real. He’s come back for you, and now you’re going back with him. You think you should probably feel nervous or hesitant, but this brief encounter has felt more solid and right than the rest of the night spent with distant school-friends made uncomfortable by your silences.

“So, how do we get there?” You ask, but Kirishima just grins at you like you should already know the answer.

The train station is tucked away down an alley just off a busy main shopping district.

“It’s easy to miss if you don’t know exactly where you're going.” Kirishima tells you with a sharp smile, and it’s easy to believe. The red brick building that housed the train station is unmarked, and the trains couldn’t be seen from the main street. The alley itself is home to many curious sights -- paper lanterns bob overhead (though they don’t seem to be suspended by anything in particular), a yellowed flyer from the 1950s advertising Marlboro cigarettes drifts along on what seems to be a breeze despite the noticeable lack of wind, and three magpies sit on a wall wearing little golden timepieces on chains around their necks and caw in time with the ticking.

“Ready to go home?” Kirishima asks quietly. In his hand, two train tickets flutter in a non-existent breeze.

A family of mice scamper past your feet, pulling a miniature suitcase between them. A tall, thin woman wearing a blank white mask assists them onto the train.

You laugh at the whimsy of it all — it feels as though you’ve stepped into a fairytale, into a dream, into your childhood. “Yes,” You grin, “I’m ready.”

Kirishima beams back at you, and holds out a hand to help you onto the train. Finding a seat was easy — despite all the passengers you had seen boarding, the carriage was oddly empty. As soon as you’re seated, you sigh. It feels as though you’re sinking into an old overstuffed armchair, comfortable and familiar. When the whistle blows and the train starts moving, you turn eagerly to watch as the train begins to pick up speed. Within moments, you find that you can barely recognise the landscape blurring past the window — It seems that you’re zooming passed a beautiful sea-view, despite the fact that the city the train station was located in was conspicuously land-locked. You sigh happily and lean against your seat.

You still don’t remember everything about your experience in the spirit world all those years ago, but you think you remember hearing someone telling you “Once you meet someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

You make eye contact with Eijirou, who smiles back at you so fondly that it nearly hurts to look at. He’s changed so much from the boy in your dreams, in your memories. His eyes are no longer glassy and distant — now they’re shiny and expressive and so bright. His hair is longer too; still spiked and wild, but longer and curling softly over the curve of his neck and shoulders. He’s the boy your remember from all those years ago, but he’s also a man now. Grown, like you have, but smiling at you gently just like you’re ten years old again.

Through the window behind his head, the sunrise begins to bathe the water in delicate pinks and yellows. You’ll wait for as long as you need to for the memories to return, but even if they don’t that’s alright. You can just make new ones.

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, seven

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompt:

Sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie!

“I’m never drinking again,” Aelin moaned as she rolled over on Lysandra’s bed, shoving her head under the pillow. She knew Rowan had censored himself filling in the gaps of her night. Saying she was an angry drunk, though accurate, was not quite specific enough.

Apparently, she and Rowan had had a screaming match in the kitchen that he failed to mention, and Aelin had zero recollection of.

“The entire kitchen cleared out,” Lysandra explained, “Lyria included. But you were… pretty loud.”

Aelin groaned into the pillow.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

Lysandra patted Aelin’s foot, trying to be comforting, but Aelin didn’t want to be comforted right now. She kicked Lysandra’s hand away.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Lysandra snorted and poked her bare foot. “At least he thought you were talking about someone else?”

Aelin peeked out from beneath the pillow and frowned again. “That is so much worse. Now he thinks I’m mad at him for not letting me kiss NOX OWEN.”

“What else was he supposed to think? You can’t exactly blame him. You smacked his drink out of his hand and started screeching about how he ruined your kissing plans.”  

“As if I’d ever have a chance with Nox. I barely even have a chance with Rowan, and he’s been my best friend since we were eight.” Aelin sighed loudly. “Whatever. Everything is ruined now. He’s going to prom with Lyria.”

Lysandra frowned, the pity evident in her bright green eyes as she flopped down next to Aelin on her comforter. “I’m sorry, boo.”

“Tell me one more time,” Aelin sighed. “Exactly what we both said. Every word.”

“In the kitchen?”

Aelin nodded.

“You stared at Lyria’s hand for like… a full ten seconds. Then you smacked the drink out of Rowan’s hand, and screamed – Where’s my drink, bitch? And he very calmly said, What the fuck, Aelin? Because… you know. The drink spilled all over the floor. Then you screamed at the top of your lungs, I NEEDED ANOTHER DRINK, AND YOU RUINED EVERYTHING. And he did that eyebrow thing you hate and asked, What did I ruin? And then you screamed back KISSING PLANS. That’s when the kitchen started emptying out.” Aelin groaned.

“It’s so much worse hearing it again.”

Lysandra paused. “Do you want me to repeat the rest?” And Aelin nodded tentatively. It was masochistic, but she needed to hear it all again.

Lysandra sighed loudly, knowing the worst was about to happen. “You fucking raged, Aelin. You incoherently started screaming – I HAD KISSING PLANS. AMAZING REAL FIRST KISS PLANS AND YOU RUINED THEM BY GETTING DISTRACTED.” She crinkled her nose at that. “And it looked like Rowan was going to say something, but you just kept going on and on about your ruined kissing plans. You called him an idiot….” Aelin cringed. She couldn’t believe how belligerent she was. “And then you screamed, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO COME BACK WITH MY DRINK. THE DRINK WAS INTEGRAL TO MY KISSING PLAN. Which, by the way, nice SAT vocab drop while you were blackout drunk. That was impressive.”

Aelin couldn’t do anything more than flick off her friend. She was too busy berating herself for all the stupid things she didn’t remember saying when she was drunk. She’d been this close to telling Rowan she’d planned to kiss him. And she’d said FIRST KISS. It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed anyone before – she totally had. There’d been several games of truth or dare which included kisses and a braces-filled makeout session at Camp Terrasen in eighth grade. She’d just meant their first kiss. She wanted to die.

“Then he got really mad himself and screamed back at you that you should have told him about your kissing plans, so he didn’t ruin your night. And you screamed back it didn’t matter since it was already ruined and clearly you could get your own drink.”

“I think that’s when he realized you’d had a little too much to drink that he’d clearly missed. And he sought out Nox, who explained the drink chugging, and while that happened, you literally chugged another drink and then launched yourself at Salvaterre.”

“I have to apologize,” Aelin said, but Lysandra shook her head.

“He didn’t bring it up for a reason.” Lysandra softened her eyes, running her hand through Aelin’s freshly showered hair. “I think once you punched Lorcan he chocked everything up to wasted nonsense.”

Aelin shoved her face into Lysandra’s pillow and let out a low laugh. What a nightmare. “I’m just grateful you and Elide were there to change me,” she said. “I can’t even imagine my embarrassment if Rowan had to peel me out of puke-covered clothes.”

“Yeah, you owe us for that one.”

Aelin’s mouth dropped in shock. “You left me to sleep on the bathroom floor!”

Lysandra laughed. “Only because you scissor kicked Rowan in the knee when he and Wes tried to take you up the stairs.” She looked at Aelin. “He’s not mad at you, Ace. He was going to let you sleep in his bed. Puke-covered and all.”

Aelin rolled onto her back. “But he’s going to prom with Lyria,” Aelin repeated again.

“She’s nice,” Lysandra quipped, causing Aelin to glare at her. “But she’s not you.” Aelin’s lips quirked upward at that. “He’ll figure it out eventually,” she said, letting Aelin breathe a sigh of relief. She really hoped Lysandra’s assessment was true. “Or he won’t, and you’ll spend the rest of your life pining away.”

Aelin snorted loudly. “Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome, bitch.”

Lysandra paused, her green eyes soft and nervous instead of holding their usual brash confidence as she continued. “I know you and Rowan are special best friends with, like, a special best friend song and everything.”

“We do not have a special best friend song?” Aelin interrupted, causing Lysandra to laugh and boop her nose softly.

“You do. It’s ‘Dancing In The Moonlight,’ which is adorable, but not my point.”

“And that is…?”

“I know I’ll never be Rowan, but I’m still a best friend, and if you need to talk about things… you can tell me. Especially if they’re Rowan things.”

Aelin bit her lip and breathed nervously. “I’m glad you know.”

“Oh, babe,” Lysandra laughed, rubbing Aelin’s shoulder softly. “I’ve known about your feelings for years. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

Aelin groaned and shoved her head under the pillow again.

~*~

Dear journal,

I don’t know who else to talk about this with. I know Lysandra KNOWS now, but I just need to vent to someone impartial, okay? Things with Rowan are so weird… because they’re not weird at all. After Lys told me what I screamed at him, I was sure he’d finally come out and clear the air, but it’s been a WHOLE WEEK, and he hasn’t said anythingggg. Everything is just…. normal??? He even let me keep the lacrosse sweatshirt Lys and El put me in. I tried to give it back, but he told me it was mine now. What the hell is THAT about? What does it mean?

I want to tell him I know about the fight, but then I’d have to explain I was screaming about kissing him, and I don’t know if he wants to hear that anymore.

All I know is that every time I look at him I feel like I’m about to explode. Not to mention I’m about to go suit shopping with him for ~PROM~ and I’m kind of freaking out. What is Rowan in a TUX going to do to my body? I might just combust there on the spot. Maybe he’s right. I should ask Lys to teach me how to … you know (masturbate). I tried to watch a video (I KNOW), but I got a million pop ups and got too nervous and shut my laptop off. Maybe I should look on my phone next time. Do phones get pop ups?

UGH OKAY. HE’S HERE. WISH ME LUCK.

Xo, Aelin

5/21/20 – age 16

Aelin slammed her journal shut and shoved it under her stack of decoy notebooks in her nightstand just before Rowan appeared in her doorway.

“Ready to go, Ace?”

She nodded and stretched her arms above her head, shaking out her hand, which was cramped from writing so neatly in her journals.

“Don’t you want to bring a jacket?” Rowan asked, looking at Aelin’s bared stomach pointedly.

“It’s almost June, Buzzard, don’t be such a prude,” she answered, her arms self-consciously crossing over the chest of her cropped t-shirt.

He rolled his eyes, leading them back downstairs, and Aelin grabbed her purse and followed. “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re too cold.”

“I would never,” she gasped, feigning shock. “And don’t forget you owe me post-shopping ice cream.”

“Oh, bring me back a pint of chocolate peanut butter,” Rhoe called out from the kitchen, his blue eyes peering out from behind the giant pages of the Orynth Times.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Aelin called out, passing by the kitchen with a wave.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aelin doubled back and peered into the kitchen where her exhausted looking dad sat. “Rowan is taking you shopping? Has hell frozen over? Rowan, how did you get conned into this?”

Aelin looked up at Rowan, who scratched his head uncomfortably. “She’s actually taking me shopping. I need a tux for prom…” Rowan trailed off, his cheeks turning slightly pink as Rhoe returned a surprised look at the child who was practically his surrogate son.

“Ae, do you need a dress?” he asked, suddenly looking worried. Her dad would give her the moon if he could, but supporting a daughter on a firefighter’s single salary was often more than he could manage.

“Oh, no,” Aelin shook her head, carefully concealing her hurt feelings with a devilish smirk. “Rowan got asked to junior prom.”

Rhoe’s eyes widened, flickering between his daughter and Rowan rapidly, before smiling softly. “An older woman, eh?”

“It’s not like that…” Rowan grumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked down at the ground at his well-worn running sneakers. “I barely know her. I just said yes to be polite…”

“Sure, Buzzard,” Aelin said, poking Rowan’s side. He frowned at her unhappily, flicking her finger away.

Rhoe barked out a loud laugh. “Have fun, you two.” He fixed Aelin with a serious stare. “Make sure he picks out something really embarrassing, kiddo.” His stare broke as he winked, sending them off on their way, Rowan rushing out of the house as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Oh yeah,” Aelin laughed. “I’m putting him in blue ruffles first.”

“You are not!” Rowan called from outside, already starting up the jeep.

Aelin waved goodbye to her dad and hopped into the passenger seat, cranking up her mix, which was still playing in Rowan’s car.

~*~

“I look stupid,” Rowan whined, shoving his hands into the pockets of the umpteenth different styled tux the shop attendant had pulled for him. This one was black, again, but some kind of shiny material, and the pants had a stripe up the side.

Aelin couldn’t help the small frown that tugged at her lips at how picky her best friend was being. She honestly assumed the boy who mostly lived in athletic shorts and t-shirts would be fine with the first suit he tried on, but he was being finnicky and far too particular for someone who “just said yes to be polite.” And it was starting to get on her nerves. What she thought was going to be an exercise in sexual restraint was actually just trying her patience.

“Shiny, no good!” the salesman agreed, his accent curling thickly around his criticism.

Rowan sighed and turned to look at Aelin, who did her hardest to neutralize her facial expression before he saw her frown, but it was too late.

“I knew it,” Rowan grumbled, peeling the jacket off and handing it to the salesman, who cleared out the full dressing room again, and Aelin gnawed at her lip, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“It’s not bad…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Ace.”

“Language!” the salesman snapped, and Rowan’s mood lifted for a brief second as he laughed in shock, his eyes going straight to Aelin, as if to say Can you believe this guy? She shook her head in agreement, and she was relieved to see a smile on his face for the first time in two hours.

Aelin pushed herself off the small chair in the communal dressing room space and approached Rowan. She cocked her head to the side and let her eyes shamelessly trail his form. He was right about this particular suit. It did look stupid. But none of the suits, all in differing shades and cuts of black, had looked right. As her gaze trailed back up to his face, his breath held, patiently waiting for her conclusion, Aelin had a stroke of genius.

“Black isn’t your color, Ro. It’s washing you out.” Rowan’s face scrunched at her assessment, clearly unpleased. But the stark contrast between the white and black, combined with his pale hair was doing something to his usually tanned and glowing skin, and it wasn’t good.

“I refuse to wear a light blue suit,” he said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Not something bright. Just… subtle color,” Aelin explained, and the salesman started nodding rapidly.

“Ah, yes, the Bellissima is correct. Color. Yes, color! COLOR!”

He excitedly ran back into the shop and returned with suits in various dark shades of navy and emerald and maroon slung over his shoulder. Aelin watched in amusement as he shoved Rowan back into the dressing room, telling him to try the green first.

Aelin stood impatiently, arms crossed and leaning against one of the 360 mirrors, hoping against all hopes that her assessment was correct. She wasn’t sure she could endure another two hours of this. Another five minutes would be bad enough, to be honest.

When Rowan walked out to the small platform, she knew she’d nailed itt. Her pulse thrummed loudly, and she could feel her lips part, inhaling a large gasp into her drying mouth. Rowan looked…

“Wow,” Aelin whispered at the same time Rowan said, “Huh,” peering into the mirror.

Aelin stood up straighter, pushing herself up and getting a closer view of the striking boy in front of her. The green was so dark, it just barely contrasted with the black lapels and trim of the suit, but the color brough a warmth to his face that had been missing, the green of his irises prominent beneath his long blonde lashes. Those bright eyes peered over at Aelin, searching for her reaction, and she couldn’t help the soft blush that appeared across her skin as they locked with hers.

Rowan cleared his throat, coughing lightly as he smoothed the jacket out, pulling the lapels gently. “Uh, yeah. Good call, Ace.”

Aelin lifted her long hair into a high bun, needing something to do with herself besides stare and to allow the breeze of the store fan to cool the back of her neck.

“The one!” the salesman cooed, running his hands across Rowan’s broad shoulders proudly. “We did it!”

When Aelin looked back up, she was surprised to see Rowan’s eyes still on her, gauging her reaction with curiosity. He raised a blonde brow in her direction, and Aelin was afraid for a second that she was going to launch herself at him right there and kiss his face.

Instead swallowed loudly and clapped her hands, shaking off the intensity of his gaze and smiled broadly. “About time, Buzzard. Now, let’s go get me some ice cream.”

The moment was broken as Rowan rolled his eyes and made his way back into the changing room, slinging the suit over the door as Aelin exhaled and slumped back into the chair for a brief reprieve.

“Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream,” Aelin chanted as Rowan paid for the tux rental.

Rowan slung his arm over Aelin’s shoulders and smiled down at her. “Fine. You earned it.”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Aelin said, as the salesperson shouted, “Language!” at them again, as they ran out of the store, both giggling.

By the time they reached their favorite ice cream spot, the sun had set, and the swift down current breeze of the Staghorn Mountains had started up, cooling the temperature significantly from the balmy afternoon Aelin had dressed for.

She looked out at the dark water, shivering slightly as she took her first bite of mint chocolate chip. Rowan bit back a smile as he wrapped his hoodie around himself tighter, keeping the winds out, happily eating his cookie dough without danger of freezing to death.

On her third bite, Aelin finally broke. “Oh come on, Buzzard, sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie.”

“I told you to bring your jacket!” Rowan laughed just as a particularly strong gust cut against Aelin’s exposed skin, making her shudder. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he snorted, opening up the hoodie and nodding to her. “Get in here.”

“Really?” she asked, teeth chattering.

“You’re the worst,” he joked as he unzipped his hoodie and held it open, and Aelin practically raced into it. Rowan’s smile grew as he zipped the hoodie back up, which shockingly stretched large enough to fit them both. Just barely. Aelin pressed her cheek against his chest, soaking in his warmth as his free hand rubbed her back. She shivered again, but this time having nothing to do with the cold, warmth and desire radiating through her body as she felt every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded, smiling happily into her next bite of ice cream. She savored each bite, not wanting the moment to end too soon. Each bite tasting better than the last, surrounded in Rowan’s grasp and heat. She breathed in, his heady scent filling her head, his embrace feeling so perfect around her. Her stomach calmed, everything suddenly feeling so right.

“Thanks, Ace,” he said quietly, resting his chin on her head. “I know that’s not how you wanted to spend your Saturday.”

Aelin finished her last bite and leaned harder into his warm chest. “I don’t care how we spend our Saturdays,” Aelin admitted. “As long as we’re hanging out.”

“Cool,” Rowan said, sounding so lame that Aelin couldn’t help but laugh, and she could feel him hiding his own smile in her hair. “Okay, we have to get back into the car,” he laughed outright, his hands rubbing circles onto her back, and Aelin shook her head into his shirt. No, she wanted to stay just like this forever.

“I’ll freeze to death!” she countered instead.

“We’ll just have to make a run for it. I don’t plan on losing you tonight, Ace.” Aelin groaned, but Rowan knew he’d won. “On the count of three,” he warned her. “One… two…” On three, he unzipped the hoodie, and Aelin screeched, her voice raising to glass shattering levels as she sprinted towards the jeep, wind whipping through her thin t-shirt and cutting against her warmed skin like ice.

Rowan unlocked the jeep as they ran, and they both launched themselves into their seats simultaneously, joyful laughter bubbling up in both of them and filling the car.

Aelin watched Rowan as he turned the car on, and immediately cranked up the heat. Her stomach fluttered again, and she crossed her legs to quell the ache of desire that had begun to take over her body.

As stealthily as she could, she pulled out her phone and texted Lysandra again.

I need some help.

Her phone lit up with Lysandra’s returning message almost immediately. XYZ kind of help???

Aelin snorted at the use of Rowan’s code name. Lysandra had suggested if Aelin ever wanted to talk about Rowan in text, she probably shouldn’t use his name. Just in case he ever saw. Aelin had immediately suggested his initials, RW, but Lysandra smartly pointed out he was the only RW they knew. Lysandra cackled, suggesting XYZ – because it came right after W. And with any luck, Aelin would be coming soon.

Aelin’s cheeks flushed as she texted back. Can you teach me/instruct me/explain how to masturbate?

OMG!!!!! MY BABY BUTTERFLY, YES YES YES GIRLLLLL!!!

Aelin laughed softly, and Rowan looked at her curiously, from her cheeks to the phone lit up in her hand.

“Who could you possibly be texting right now?” he asked, and if Aelin didn’t know better she would have thought he maybe sounded slightly put out.

“Lysandra,” she answered, a little too quickly, but her heart was beating too fast at the inappropriate back and forth she and Lys were having, especially since she wanted to fantasize about the person sitting right next to her while she… learned.

“What about?” Rowan asked, curious.

Aelin bit her lip. “You were right,” she said, her face probably beet red. She was grateful he couldn’t entirely see the color in the dark.

“About what?” he asked. “I mean, I’m often right about a lot of things,” he added cheekily.

“Masturbation,” Aelin replied as confidently as she could, while feeling like her skin was going to burn her alive. The car swerved slightly as Rowan snapped his head to look in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice sounding strained and high.

“Lysandra’s going to teach me.”

Aelin could feel her best friend’s gaze puncturing holes into her flaming cheeks as he searched for something to say. But when she looked up, she couldn’t speak fast enough.

“ROWAN!” she shouted as the jeep crashed straight into the taillights of the car in front of them.

~*~*~*~

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[hawkbucks]

Prompt: I always see you in the library and I think you’re really cute so I leave you little post it notes on your work whenever you go and get a book just to see you blush AU.

Note: Originally sent in by an anon on my now-deleted older blog (as is usual with these reposted ficlets jgkfld) 

It starts, like every good this-is-how-I-met-my-boyfriend story does, with Bucky dragging himself to the library after barely getting 2 hours of sleep last night.

With his trusty can of Red Bull and an ancient laptop that might as well have had dust spluttering out of its vents, he sits down in silent isolation from the other groups of students who take the library as a place to socialize and listen to music without earphones on as opposed to actually studying or writing their 3 essays that are due the next day. (He does, however, realize the hypocrisy in his way of thinking considering the obscene amount of time that he spends shooting the shit with Steve, Sam, and Nat in their group chat whilst his physics homework lies ignored.)

He takes a generous gulp of his Red Bull and turns on his laptop, ready to wait the 34 years it takes to boot up. The chair creaks disconcertingly underneath him as he leans back, but he’s had too many sleepless nights and too many mental breakdowns to care. If it snaps, it snaps. A trip to the hospital for a bashed-in head would at least give him an excuse to take time off from the hell that is university.

His laptop groans like it wants him to put it out of its misery, preferably with a BB pellet to the motherboard. He watches as the screen flashes white and the Baintronics logo pops up and swirls on the screen. A black loading bar appears under the logo. He waits, tapping his fingers on the table.

5%

30%

Somehow unloads to 19%

5–hold on. There’s movement in his peripheral vision. People sometimes come and intrude in his little corner when they’re tired of everyone else like he is, and it’s been long enough since the last person that he curiously looks up–

–and promptly lays his eyes on the cutest guy he’s ever seen. His black hair sits in a mess of soft-looking curls on his head, he’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with the Jurassic Park logo on it (Bucky thinks he’s in love already), and a pair of glasses perches on the bridge of his nose. Glasses. Bucky chokes on his spit and almost tips his chair over. It’s not creepy, he tells himself as his eyes follow the cute guy who ends up sitting two tables over and, thankfully, ends up sitting in a way so that Bucky can see his face. He watches as he take out a sleek laptop, a binder, and dumps out a bunch of pencils and pens. No, I’m just… admiring his looks. And it’s not like Steve doesn’t openly ogle Thor every time they pass each other… fuck, Barnes, get it together.

Bucky shakes his head and turns his attention back to his laptop screen.

As it turns out, concentrating on his stupid study guide for this stupid quiz that’s coming up is near impossible when the adorable (yeah, because cute just isn’t enough) guy keeps shifting in his seat and giving Bucky excuses to look over. Bucky’s trying to remember all these formulas but the only thing that he’s committing to memory is the way that the guy sticks the tip of his tongue out when he’s, presumably, deep in thought, or the way that he has to blow his bangs out of his face when they come down to cover his eyes. The study guide, Barnes! Bucky’s mind yells. You don’t even know this guy! Stop mooning over him!

He goes back to writing down practice problems in his notebook and gets maybe 4 problems in when he hears wood screeching against linoleum and realizes that Adorable Guy has gotten up, leaving behind pretty much everything. Bit trusting, isn’t he?

Then, a light bulb flickers on in Bucky’s head. He rummages around in his backpack for some post-it notes.

He pulls out a stack of post-its–the pastel blue ones that he was supposed to be using for his history class but never actually got around to doing so. They’ll do. Just wanted to say that you’re cute, he scratches out on one post-it. His stomach twists and turns as he peels it off and tiptoes over to Adorable Guy’s seat, looking around to make sure he isn’t seen. Before his mind can catch up and tell him that this is a terrible idea, he flattens the post-it on the binder and slinks back to his own table.

He doesn’t know when Adorable Guy will be back, but he works on making himself look as busy as possible. There aren’t many other people around, but there are other people, so hopefully the guy won’t assume it was Bucky if he looked like he was elbow-deep in physics. He taps his foot, impatient.

1 thunk of Bucky’s head against the table later, and Adorable Guy comes back with a veritable stack of books in his arms. Bucky watches over the top of his laptop as Adorable Guy lays the books down and looks at his binder in confusion, sliding into his seat.

He picks the note up, reads it, and a pretty pink starts to rise up on his cheeks and dust itself across the bridge of their nose. He look around with wide eyes, seeming to take in everyone surrounding him and calculating who’s most likely to have written him that note. “Excuse me.” He reaches out towards Bucky, the note in his hand and sounding as sweet as Bucky thought he would. “Did you see anyone leave this here?”

Bucky puts on his best confused face and shrugs. “No, sorry.” He tries to not stare into the other’s eyes, even if, as cliche as it is, he feels like he could get lost in them.

Adorable Guy nods. “It’s fine.” And he turns away, just like that, probably pondering on whether it’s worth it to bother others and solve this mystery.

Bucky goes back to looking busy, but continues to watch over his laptop as Adorable Guy smiles softly, folds the note, and puts it into their pencil bag.

Oh, Bucky’s so screwed.

If anyone notices that Bucky starts frequenting the library even more than he usually does in the following weeks, they don’t say anything. Well, okay, they don’t say anything, but Natasha does throw him questioning looks and Sam wiggles his eyebrows at him. He might just have a tiny, slight addiction to passing on some anonymous notes to Adorable Guy. It’s just small. Miniscule. It’s not like his day feels a tad bit worse whenever he sees that Adorable Guy aren’t in his seat, and it’s not like his day brightens up whenever he sees him blush after reading one of his newest notes.

Nuh-uh. None of that.

None of Bucky waiting impatiently for Adorable Guy to get up and get some new books before he writes, Your hair is looking especially good today, when Adorable Guy comes in with his hair looking extra fluffy, or before Bucky writes, You’re smart. Just keep studying, I know you can do it, when he notices that Adorable Guy is huffing and puffing and running his hands though his hair more than usual.

None of Bucky barely able to hold in his own smiles, feeling his heart flutter when Adorable Guy positively beams.

All of this and it’s without Bucky actually knowing the other’s name. He realizes that he should remedy that sooner rather than later, but for now… he supposes he can keep anonymous for a little while longer.

As if on cue, Adorable Guy gets out of his seat again. Part of Bucky wonders if Adorable Guy has grown as excited as he is about the notes; he’s been getting up more and more, and he comes back empty handed or with a bag of chips from the vending machine more often than with another stack of books.

Quickly, Bucky takes out another stack of post-its–this time in a light pink–and writes, I’m not sure if you’ll still be coming here after this quarter is over, but I just wanted to say that you really are beautiful. Thanks for hanging around. He signs it with a smiley face and begins that familiar walk to the other’s table.

“You!” Adorable Guy whispers as he pops out from behind a bookcase, looking entirely too delighted and proud of himself, when Bucky’s about to stick the note onto the table.

Bucky freezes like a deer caught in headlights. He’s maybe 0.5 seconds away from bolting and never stepping foot in that library ever again, even if it is the one that’s closest to his classes. “Me?”

“You’re the one that’s been leaving the notes–” Adorable Guy licks his lips, and Bucky wonders if he picked up on his nervousness– “I’m not angry or disappointed or anything, if you think that’s the case. Now that I think about it, it’s actually, uh, kind of obvious that it was you, but… I’ve been wondering for a while, and… yeah.”

“Yeah,” Bucky repeats. He moves to cram the note into his pocket.

“No!” Adorable Guy blurts out, which earns them quite a few dirty looks. He bows his head in apology towards the disgruntled students and turns back to Bucky. “Don’t. I wanna read it.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I was sure about reading all of the notes you gave me before I knew who you were,” Adorable Guy retorts and sticks his hand out. “Now let me read it. Please?” He actually pouts, and that’s incredibly unfair.

Hesitantly, Bucky places the note in Adorable Guy’s outstretched hand (because he’s pretty sure if he tried to go against that pout, he’d get sent straight to hell immediately) and stuffs his own hands into his pockets. He can feel a thin layer of sweat start to form on his brow, which is ridiculous because usually he isn’t this nervous around people he finds attractive. Although, to be fair, none of them have ever looked like the guy in front of him.

Perhaps it’s because he’s a masochist, but he doesn’t look away and prevent himself from seeing Adorable Guy’s reaction. So, when his eyes light up and he smiles and that blush is back and Bucky realizes that he’s seeing this face to face, he smiles right back.

“God, you’re sweet, aren’t you?” Adorable Guy laughs, holding up the note. “I swear this just gave me cavities.”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’ll pay the dentist’s bill.”

“You better,” Adorable Guy teases. “I”m gonna need a name so I know who to make it out to.” He steps just the slightest bit closer and Bucky tries not to choke on his own spit again.

“James,” Bucky replies, “but my friends call me Bucky.”

“I’m Tony.” Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony. It’s nice to be able to put a name to the face, and Bucky suspects he’s not gonna tire of saying Tony’s name any time soon.

“So, Tony…” Bucky looks at the table and quickly snatches up a notepad and a pencil. Tony doesn’t seem to mind, or he at least doesn’t protest. Bucky quickly writes something out, then turns it around and hands it to Tony.

Would you like to go out for lunch?

[kyluxtrashpit]

2020 Fic Recap

I really like writing these and 2020 has been a HELL of a year, so here we go lmao. It’s been a wild ride for sure

Total wordcount: 88 109 words (note: I’m subtracting the ‘sorry I didn’t finish this, here’s a summary of the remaining plot’ that I published for a fic in a previous fandom from this since it’s not relevant here). Overall I wrote less than last year, but given all that happened in terms of the world and personally and fandom-wise and all of it, I don’t feel too bad about it lmao. I also have a lot of WIP words of half-finished things and some planning and such so I feel okay with this

Favours, 4906 words, posted Jan 4

This was a weird one cause this is a two chapter reader insert fic, the same story but told with both Phasma and Hux. I originally wrote this for Phasma, but later decided it would be easy to tweak into a Hux story (which it was lmao) and figured people might like that, so I did both. I had fun doing it, even if this is kind of a very small niche ship and trope wise

Know Your Shadow, 5022 words, posted Feb 16

Ah yes, here we are, the first foray into renben, a ship I had NO idea would grab me so hard but here we are lmao. I’m not done with them either yet, don’t you worry. There’s something about the corruption angle I really like, also Ren is HOT, and it’s also interesting to think about Kylo truly getting to find himself and be who he wants to be. Canon didn’t really satisfy on this, but the concept still interests me and it’s what had me writing this fic. Also, Ben losing his virginity to an older man like Ren is just *chef’s kiss*

Public Indecency, 3719 words, posted Mar 1

And my second renben! This was partially inspired by art and partially by just the idea of not giving one single fuck, and how thrilling that must be for someone like Ben to experience. Ren and the KOR truly do not give a shit and it’s really beautiful in a way. Plus some hinting at found family with the KOR. Ngl, Ben/Kylo finding his place and acceptance with the KOR makes me so Soft and there’s so many words I could write about it. Plus public sex is very hot lmao

Beautiful, 3254 words, posted Mar 8

Back to kylux, and this one was an old WIP I started back when the prompt was first posted on KHK in like 2019 or something. I got stuck on it and then left it for a while. I was digging through my old WIPs, looking for something that might catch my interest and boom, this one did, so I finished it and then posted it. I quite like the fic and it’s a bit more in the ~classic~ style. It’s also always a good feeling to get an old WIP done lmao

Choose Your Destiny, 5077 words, posted Mar 20

More renben and this was my fix it fic for ROKR vol 4. I talked about this more on twitter at the time and why I found the story as it was unsatisfying, but ultimately it’s really just a case of rushed writing and playing into established bad writing (e.g. showing a fall from grace by having someone kill someone eviler than themselves). I also really liked Ren and I felt like Kylo didn’t really get to have enough agency in like... any of it. His motivations were weirdly absent as well, despite this being ostensibly about him. So I wrote this, which I think handled how the story should have gone a lot better and, plus, it’s got smut!

(Okay and the rest are behind a cut for length)

Show of Devotion, 2479 words, posted Mar 28

Renben once again and this time, I mean, it’s all inappropriate use of lightsabers lmao. I was looking at the Ren and was like ‘wow that is SO phallic’ and then the horny brain turned on and, well, here we are. I also wanted a side of found family with the KOR and I think got that with this. It’s horny. It’s fun. What more could one want?

Aural, 2729 words, posted May 12

Okay this one... I have absolutely no excuses for lmao. I’m not even sure where the inspiration came from, I just remember I was in an online work meeting that was boring and the entire sequence of events played itself out in my head. It was all I could do to focus on work for the rest of the day and not immediately write this cursed creation lmao. The worst part was I’d been totally blocked on writing since March and this, THIS, was what eventually broke out of me. In case you haven’t read this one, it’s ear sex. Hux’s dick, Kylo’s ear. No, I don’t know the logistics either. But hey, I had a blast with it, both in terms of writing it and the reactions lmao. Someday I gotta write a follow up involving a nose too

Missed Chances, 10 749 words, posted Jun 7

Ah yes, this is the point where my renben met my kylux and created this absolutely enormous peanut butter cup of a fic lmao. It really was supposed to be like half the length it was, but alas, it was not. Also cockblocking kylux was SO hard, they wanted to fuck SO bad, but I had to stop them, the story demanded it lmao (and people in the comments were MAD, which is always excellent). It’s also when my renben series really started to have like, an overarching plot (aside from the modern au fics which I’ll talk about later). I even still have more instalments planned

Free Use, 6971 words, posted Jun 23

Another one that turned out far longer than initially planned, and also my most popular fic this year! I’m both surprised and not cause like. It’s a complete smut fest + my heavy headcanoning of the personalities of the KOR. People like smut, but I also feel it’s kinda niche considering how deep I’m in for the KOR lmao. So idk, I guess the smut won out. I did have a lot of fun with this one and there’s a lot of characterization thought put into each KOR, so it was really nice to see people loving that as much as I did. Canon gave us crumbs, but I just used them to make meatballs

Eat You Up, 1573 words, posted Jul 5

There’s not a lot to this one, it’s really just renben rimming cause the sexual dynamic with renben is so fun. Kylo/Ben is inexperienced yet eager and depraved enough to impress Ren, which is something considering I think of Ren as Very Experienced lmao. I really do love this ship; it’s a lot of fun to play with

In the Vents, 2002 words, posted Aug 3

Ah and this was my first piece for the stuck inside event on twitter, which I had a lot of fun with. Stuck fetish is one I’ve always wanted to explore, but never had any concrete ideas for. This event led to me finally getting to have Kylo stuck in a wall (plus more as well), which was fun. Also I spent far too long thinking about Hux’s vent contraption set up cause I knew he would never let Millie go anywhere that might hurt her, so I had to come up with a way to make the vent safe and here we are lmao. Hux being an engineer and also the most extra cat owner in existence worked out very well indeed. This was also the start of my creativity boom near the middle-end of the year that uh kinda burned out in a not so great way, but I’ll talk about that later lmao

Distraction, 3658 words, posted Aug 6

Another for the stuck inside event and another kylux/renben sandwich! Also featuring the KOR this time! Listen... it’s a gangbang, it’s got renben, it’s got kylux, it’s got Kylo getting stuffed from all ends... this is the kind of fic that, to me, is pure indulgence lmao. I had a tremendous amount of fun with it

Entrapped, 3484 words, posted Aug 8

So this was also for the stuck inside event (yes, I wrote 3 fics in about a week lmao - I don’t know how I did it either) and it’s darker than the sort of things I usually write. I enjoyed exploring something like this though, something outside my usual purview. It didn’t perform super well, but tbh the dark ones rarely do so lmao

Pit Stop, 1505 words, posted Aug 31

Welp, this is just an excuse for watersports lmao. I like piss, what can I say? And I’ve done it to kylux, so I had to do it to renben, and the modern au ‘need to pee on a road trip’ seemed like the perfect opportunity for it. Not much to say for it really

The Deal, 2431 words, posted Sep 3

Ah and this one here was the first for the throwback event I ran on twitter! The event itself ended up kind of being tainted by drama from one singular person who kind of ruined it by being a jerk for literally no good reason, but I’m not going to talk too much about that. Even with that, I still greatly enjoyed it and this piece might be my favourite from it as a whole. Kylo Amidala, political scandals, neither of them being nice... ahhhh yes, it definitely brought me back lmao

Devotion, 1929 words, posted Sep 10

Another for the throwback event, this time with Emperor and Hound dynamics which, unf, yes, I will literally never get tired of it. I really had fun with every fic from this event and this one was great because I so rarely get to write real action scenes, even if they’re in a flashback here. That and the dynamic itself really made it fun

To Be Wanted, 10 473 words, posted Sep 16

Ah yes, and here is my KBB for the year! I did a minibang this time, as, well, everything was going horribly wrong around the time of sign ups and I thought a mini would be more realistic. I think I was right on that and I’m glad I did it, even if I was torn at the time. The idea itself is one I’d been thinking about for a while. I can’t remember if I thought of it after seeing the leaks for tros or after watching the movie itself, but it’s been with me for a while and while I dithered over whether or not to sign up this year, the idea came back and was just perfect for a minibang. Plus I got an absolutely amazing and wonderful partner, which is really what makes the experience of doing bangs so great. I love this fic, I LOVE the art for it, and the whole experience was definitely a highlight to 2020 as a whole, both overall and in terms of my fandom/writing experience this year

Floss Me, 2033 words, posted Sep 21

My third for the throwback event and also the dental fetish fic I’ve wanted to write for a while now lmao but could never figure out a scenario for. As some of you may remember, 2018-2019, I went through some pretty horrific dental stuff and ultimately I think it kinda gave me a fetish lmao. Also I feel like there may or may not have been a kinky flossing prompt on one of the prompt sites at some point, but I looked everywhere and couldn’t find it so. But anyway, it was a fun fic for a kink I think is quite underrated tbh

The Cost of Certainty, 2541 words, posted Sep 25

My fourth and final piece for the throwback event, and this one is also a contender for my favourite piece from that event. I have always loved the idea of Hux being a serial killer and this was a perfect excuse to write it. I’d also recently finished a rewatch of Hannibal and, well, you can see where this came from lmao. I love writing tension and it was just very fun all around. I almost wish I’d done something like this as a long fic but tbh I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed writing it as much

Huxloween Drawings, 676 words, posted Nov 1

So this isn’t a fic but rather the drawings I did for huxloween, but people wanted them on ao3, so posted they are. Now, I mentioned above that I had this massive creative boom in Aug-Sep, but that it burned out rather badly. This is when that happened. I got into this place where I just... felt like everything I made wasn’t wanted or needed in the fandom. That everything I like is so unpopular at this point that I should just give up and leave. That I’ve spent all this time and energy over the years trying so desperately to get people engaged and so few ever cared and I just... ugh. It was bad. It was really bad and definitely partly fuelled by the bullshit that someone brought up regarding the throwback event (and I still believe that they are the sole cause of it’s poor reception). I, uh, am doing better now and still working through it all but it was a really rough time. But I found myself still wanting to be creative so I decided to draw. I am not good at drawing. I am not an artist. But that’s what made it fun: I went into each drawing knowing it wasn’t gonna look great. That wasn’t the point. So I never got upset about it. I think it helped me a lot tbh and I did really enjoy it and I’m glad I did it

Unconventional, 7243 words (in progress), updated Dec 20, first posted Nov 18

So the next part of me trying to fix the bullshit in my brain creativity-wise was to post the first chapter to this fic. This is a piece I’ve been working on since 2016-2017 (I don’t remember exactly when, but it was pre-TLJ, and I’ve gotten a new computer since so I don’t have the original creation date of the document) but I could just... never get a plot together for it and ever since I abandoned a fic in my old fandom (and this year I finally posted the ‘sorry this isn’t getting finished, here’s a closure summary’ chapter), I’ve been hesitant to post WIPs before being at least 80% done. So I said fuck it, I’m gonna post this and not be scared. Is this fic complete? Nope, but the plan is starting to come together. Do I know exactly where it’s going? Nope, but I don’t need to. Is it self-indulgent as all hell? Absolutely. I love this fic and I love this story and I love the concepts within it. So I posted it and tbh, it really helped. And I think this, combined with my writing break where I drew for 31 days straight lmao were really my saving graces here

Test Run, 3661 words, posted Dec 31

And now my final fic of the year! Which is a ship I honestly wasn’t super into (I don’t hate it, it just generally doesn’t do much for me) but then I did that thing where I thought ‘hmm but could it be written in a way that I am into?’ which, in my experience, always leads to me writing exactly that. Which is what I did here lmao. I’m pretty happy with it though and despite it being very strange to write, as I really had to work to get these two to get where they were going lmao, I had fun with it. I honestly doubt I’ll write more of them, but I’m glad I wrote this one, and I think it’s a good experiment to close out the year with

What have I learned?

Honestly, this year was a clusterfuck lmao. 2019 wasn’t great for me either, but we all lived through this and it was certainly An Experience. I think what this year really helped me focus on was what made me happy. I ended up in some dark places and I don’t want to go there again. It feels repetitive to say that, once again, I have learned that writing what I want is key when I say that every damn year, but tbh I think 2020 underscored it even more so. Spite as a motivator, when used to much, smothers the spark of creativity and the joy of creation. The most important lesson I learned this year by far is to not let that take the driver’s seat. A dash here and there? That’s fine. But as your main motivator? That’s just not healthy. And I need to work to keep it from consuming me like it has been for too long

Goals for 2021?

So last year I didn’t set any hard goals and boy, is it a good thing I didn’t, cause I achieved none of them lmao. I didn’t write more words (though I did write more individual fics, and the word count gap between this year and last is about the size of the difference between a big bang fic and a mini bang fic so really, I think I did okay), I didn’t even write a single fic for BTHB, and, to be really honest, I did not manage to keep my love for writing alive the whole time. I was in a really dark place a few times this year, but that drop in Sep-Oct was the worst from a creative standpoint. I feel like I’m mostly out of it now, even if I still have some work to do maintaining it. I’m hopeful for the future in that regard. The only thing I really did accomplish was that I feel positively towards all the fics I wrote; I’m happy and proud of all of them

So what is my goal? Honestly, I feel like every year I have to relearn the lesson of ‘write what you want, have fun, be self-indulgent, fuck expectations, etc.’ and my goal this year is to not have to relearn that again, but to keep that energy and carry it with me for the whole year. I realize I may have to put some effort in there, but I’m okay with that. I don’t know what 2021 has in store, but if I can just keep my passion alive and not fall into that pit again, I’m calling it a win

[lunarmessenger]

Reminder - People are Not Obligated to Take Care of You.

Before I get into the meat of this post, I want to disclaim that NONE OF MY OLDER/YOUNGER MUTUALS HAVE MADE ME FEEL THIS WAY. I have had multiple, older (18 and up) mutuals (all in different fandoms) reach out to me to vent about this situation, and I’ve decided to make a post to REMIND EVERYONE how damaging this can be. With that being said:

People are not obligated to take care of you. Period.

This is a problem I’m seeing grow across tumblr in multiple different fandoms, (a problem that has been around for a while, actually) and I just couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. While I have mutuals that are adults like me (Reminder I am 21 Years Old) I also have mutuals that are teenagers. I’m talking between 14-16 years old.

I am an adult. I have obligations outside of Tumblr that involve work, my romantic relationship, my family, etc., and so do the other older mutuals online that develop little friendships here and there with younger mutuals.

As someone who has been on tumblr for a long time, I understand that when you’re young, and you’re speaking with somebody a bit older, you look up to them. You want to learn from them, and sometimes, you even find comfort from them when your personal life is extremely hard and you just want to escape.

But remember; they are a REAL PERSON that also has a life outside of tumblr. THEY ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.

It’s okay to vent, it’s okay to share what you want to share about your life to get it off your chest. It becomes a problem when you expect that person to CONSTANTLY be there for you, and find a solution for your problem. That is not okay.

They are not your parent. They are not your teacher. They have NO RESPONSIBILITY to coddle you, or make you feel better. Like I said, they are a REAL PERSON who has real, big time responsibilities that do not involve being online every hour of every day.

This goes for older mutuals too; PLEASE remember that there is a person behind the profiles, and we all deserve some time to ourselves. We’re all here to have fun, not feel pressured or responsible to take care of somebody who, we don’t even know in real life.

To my older mutuals; do not get involved more than you need to. Place your boundaries.

To my younger mutuals; remember that while you can still look up to somebody who is older than you, they are not responsible for you. Please try to keep that in mind when reaching out to somebody older than you.

And to both my older and younger mutuals: be careful. There’s still weird people online; be cautious on what you share and who you share it with.

That’s all I have to say; I’m sorry to get so serious but it needed to be said.

- Luna.

[kryptsune]

Happy Birthday UT...  -_-;

🌼Ok I am going to say a few things that may be off putting to some people... please be aware this is my opinion and just how I feel in general. This is just something I want to get off my chest... this is a very serious topic so please read with that in mind. 

I am sure some people remember the Dear UT Fandom post that I made a while back. This is an extension to that. After stepping away from the fandom I have seen more trends that have left a VERY sour taste in my mouth. This fandom used to be welcoming and passionate but lately I have seen some behaviors that I can only classify as immature, narcissistic, and entitled. Now I am not saying everyone in the fandom is like this, no, far from but as someone that has been in the UT pit for a very long time... It is disheartening to say that the more of this I see the more I begin to question if people actually UNDERSTAND what the game was trying to say to begin with.  I am going to go on record here to say that I am seriously tired. On a level that I did not think was possible. I still love what I have created and I still enjoy the content that my friends put forth that will never change. At the same time with my split from the fandom I have realized that if you are not in then you are out. In other words those connections you once had seem to break down because you are no longer in the fandom 24/7? Is that... ok? Sure people have different interests but you don’t just drop people because they aren’t in the thick of it like they used to be. What... how? I don’t even understand that.  In addition I have been seeing some highly toxic people spouting some shipping war garbage. Now I know what you are thinking... but Kit you have been dealing with that for years! Yes, sadly but this is where I draw the line. Look I know certain ships are not everyones cup of tea. You all know I am personally uncomfortable with Fontcest and Sanscest content. THAT IS MY OPINION. I am and will always be a RISK girl. That said... I have increasingly seen people become extraordinarily hostile when it comes to this.

I am not going to name who I saw this from because honestly I don’t want to give them the platform but... come on guys. It’s easy to filter tags. Does it always work? No.. but it’s a start. It’s what I do. You really have to check yourself when you go on your blog to call out a specific group of people calling them things like “sick fucks”. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you can tear down the people that do.  Their argument for this was something along the lines of... again the same beaten to death annoying excuse I get every single damn time, pedophilia. They are even claiming that those that make older adult versions are also in this category. The truth of the matter is they are spouting out mindless generalizations in favor of their own outcome... Yes, I am a Frans shipper. It makes me happy but let me tell you a little story. When I first played the game I had no shipping at all. It was a cute little game that I thought had a very profound message to tell. Then I got into the RP side of things. I have always kind of been a person that is into the dark stuff so I auditioned for Fell Frisk, hence my old username. Do you know why I started shipping Frisk with Red? Because of the interactions between my version of Frisk, which would eventually grow into Underworld Frisk, and my friends version of Red. Let’s be honest here... Red is NOT Sans. At least their version wasn’t. It was their own, an OC in a Sans the skeleton skin. That is where my love came from because I will tell you right now... the Red that existed and one I still see from time to time... I LOATHED. I hated his character so much. 

My point in telling this story is that people automatically assume that I looked at the game and went HECK YEAH they should be a couple. Absolutely not. In fact it was quite the opposite. I fell in love with a characterization under that same same. So before people go pointing fingers maybe they should stop and actually think. Not everything is cut and dry. I am sorry if I am pontificating a little bit but I can’t help myself. I am sick of seeing “you need to see help” posts by people that refuse to actually take the time to get to know people. 

That is one of the main problems of social media. How well do you actually know someone? The answer... you probably don’t. Ok I am going to pull back from my soap box. Look... I love this fandom it has been very good to me but I am glad that I am out of it now. I made the @fallenfellfrisk  blog for you all who have supported me and enjoy that kind of content because as a creator I love interacting with people. I know people want to see more of those designs and I eventually will deliver them but for now... I hope you enjoy and support this massive Hell Lore world build I have been working on. It’s going to be crazy and it’s honestly a lot of fun to play in.  So to end this very long “vent” enjoy what you enjoy and don’t be a jerk about it. Don’t put others down and accuse them of things that are not even remotely true. Instead of being so one way or the other people need to really think about a few things. We are all human beings. We are all individuals. Not everyone is going to agree with what you have to say. THAT IS OK. There are ways to shield yourself from the content you do not like. Do not attack your followers. Do not call them names. Do not treat people like garbage or spread rumors about them effectively separating them from the ones they care about. 

Try to remember that your actions have consequences and that your behaviors even more so. Be the best person you can be and remember the humanity of others. Be a positive influence in life and not a toxic egotistical and narcissistic asshole demanding something of someone else. Be... well... kind. 

Today is the day... Happy birthday... Undertale. 

[lunar-lair]

*Crawls out of my hole* did someone say 'dead Reigen' AU? No? Well I'm talking abt it anyways

So just. Think for a moment: what would happen if Reigen killed himself before he met Mob?

Third year of middle school, around the same time Mob is born, even.

And then, what if Mob met him as a spirit?

12 years old, almost ready for middle school, and he finds Reigen in an alleyway. He immediately goes to exorcise him, but Reigen does his usual arm-flailing charade and yells, "Wait, don't shoot!"

And Mob complies, listening to the ghost.

He vaguely notices the red stain on the right side of his head, the way his hair looks a little mottled and his clothes are roughed up.

The uniform he's wearing is for Salt Mid, the school he's enrolling in next year, the school he just walked past.

His form is still intact; recent enough, then.

Mob tries not to think about it.

Reigen and Mob talk for a little bit, but eventually part ways.

On his way home, Mob thinks about it.

(He ends up asking his parents. He ends up describing Reigen, unsure that they won't brush him off, but he does anyways.

His mom's eyes widen. "...what's his name?"

"He said it was Reigen Arataka."

"Shigeo..." His dad looks worried, oddly enough.

"That's the name of a boy who went missing about 12 years ago."

"It was all over the news," His mom added, nodding and turning to his dad and back to him. "But..."

"Maybe it was a cover up?" Ritsu suggests from the couch, half-rude as always.

Mob's mother lightly scolds him, but Mob barely hears.

That was the day Mob vowed he'd help Reigen find his way.

That was the day things really began.)

He comes back to the same alley the next day, finds Reigen in the same place, petting a two-tailed-fox in his lap.

He doesn't ask, despite his mild surprise, but Reigen tells him about the Kitsune-Haru, was his name-anyways.

Mob ends up just talking to Reigen, that day.

And again, and again, and again, every day after that.

Before he knew it, they were friends.

And removing ourselves from this little narrative, let me add a couple of details here. Reigen's backstory, to simply summarize (I'll tell more later, promise ;)) includes a psychic friends who idolized Mogami, a gang, and Reigen's important realization that psychics are only human; they can do terrible things, and they can do excellent things, just like anyone else can with any other talent. You could kill someone or pick up groceries with big muscles, you could tear people down or build people up with good charisma and speech,

and you could kill someone or simply cut vegetables with a knife.

This is how Mob still learns some of the lessons Reigen taught him in canon, and this is how Reigen still tells them. His morals are still upstanding, though maybe a little less developed, and he still makes a good companion for Mob.

Over the years, they become each other's closest friends; although this does sway Mob a little closer to the spirit side of things, I like to think that with a friend closer to his age, Mob could learn more about befriending people, and he would have someone to properly vent with, too. Making Reigen Mob's age levels the playing field with him also being a ghost; if he were a ghost and still an adult, the scales would be a little tipped, but he isn't, so things stay level. This may mean that Mob has a couple people he's a little closer to, but I kinda doubt it; he's just better at making friends once they come his way, I think.

Plus, Reigen officially having an older sister makes him a *perfect* candidate for Mob to talk about Ritsu with; he can give Mob the perspective of a younger brother, which could help out their relationship pre *and* post clean up arc.

Other than that, though, general basics go...pretty basically; the two of them slowly gain a deeper friendship over the years, of course, with it being much closer now that they're the same age. Reigen declares first named Allowed starting about when Mob turns 13 or so, somewhere like that, meaning Mob calls him Arataka a lot of the time; specifically with an added '-kun', because he's too polite not to add the honorific. Reigen still calls him Mob, usually, but isn't afraid to call him Shigeo to get through to him. Mob also has a little more sass, since Reigen pounded it into his head over the years. There's one less adult to keep the cast all balanced, which is...a bit of a problem, but I think Mob's parents can just be a little bit more Involved, maybe even getting in things a little more to teach Serizawa The Ways Of Adulthood since Reigen kinda can't.

I might add some other posts about little details, but for now, here's a mostly-base? This got longer than I wanted it to; sorry about that, hehe.

[wondersbeyondcompare]

More Majid Stuff

I post once in a blue moon b/c I work in random bursts and get tired easily, but here are some rambles about Majid that I’ve saved in my Notes app and probably haven’t mentioned before!

There are some rumors circulating around Majid regarding his wealth

More specifically: how he got his wealth

All these rumors range from him being a secret son of a noble family to taking shady underground jobs that paid ridiculously well

His name had been searched up more than once, but the only thing that pops up is a bakery business w/ a small branch located in the Land of Hot Sands... not too far from where Majid grew up...

Majid’s a quick learner; he just lacks the motivation lol 

Tends to overthink too often, tho, coming up with detailed plans to get out of doing the most mundane stuff

Funny to watch but a pain in the ass to comprehend 😔

Although Majid tries to get out of doing most stuff, there are some things he can’t let slide

He can get picky over how some tasks are done; honestly??? this might be a good tactic on getting him to work (“Hey, Majid. Can you help set up the decorations for tonight’s party?” “No.” “Aaaa, okay, guess we’ll just have Mark do it-“ “Mark? You want to leave decorating to him? Do you want the lounge looking like a highlighter projectile vomited over the walls and ceiling? Give me those streamers. I’ll do it myself-“)

Definitely a quality over quantity kind of person; his room may be a mess of different things, but, rest assured, it’s only the best of the best of stuff that stay for long like lava lamps

I want to say that Majid is picky about a lot of things in general, but he does have his exceptions; for example: food, napping locations, job opportunities, ummm (･_･;) That’s most of what I can think of right now, dang

This pickiness is kiiind of 👉👈 referencing a trait that the Cave of Wonders has; like the whole “only a diamond in the rough shall enter here“ business that was going on idk I’m trying my best

As you can see, I went ham when it came to the “Who disturbs my slumber” line the tiger head had lol 😅(sorry that had become your defining trait, m’boi)

And the mass of riches he’s accumulated over the years was another obvious reference to the inside of the cave as well; can also act as a loose metaphor of what’s stopping him from getting the help he needs; as the treasures in the cave were put there w/ the intent of distracting a person from the ultimate goal of the magic lamp, so does his own treasures serve as a temporary distraction from moving forward in his life

But if that’s too much of a stretch, then plz slap the inner English teacher in me and then myself

Majid’s good at looking through people’s facades and judging a person’s true character, but it’s not like he does much w/ this info

Unless they try confronting him or something, he just avoids/shuts down people he gets bad vibes from

Doesn’t make tactless comments; figured out that dealing with pissed off people was more work than it’s worth

Boi tends to ask a lot of questions when speaking to other people; partly b/c of trust issues; partly b/c he might be lowkey judging you (can’t use his unique magic all the time after all :/)

He’s the type of person who acts like he knows everything, but he really doesn’t; just hates getting looked down upon in general; will bluff his way through situations by being as vague as possible

He leans towards how his mother used to speak; that is: beating around the bush

He won’t lie to you, but it might take some time until he’ll give you the whole truth; and when I say it’ll take some time, IT REALLY WILL TAKE SOME TIME B/C THIS BOY IS UNBELIEVABLY STUBBORN 

Is casual to whoever he speaks to, no matter the age; if he gets extremely annoyed with someone, especially if they’re older than him, he’ll use this over exaggerated polite tone that makes it real obvious he’s fed up with them

Gets ticked off whenever anyone advises him to do anything, but he’ll still take that advice to heart

Majid’s probably tired all the time b/c of all the jewelry he’s carrying around smh

Majid sounds/looks like he’s angry all the time, but that’s just his resting face 😔; I mean, he’s always a little irritated, but it’s mostly b/c he’s stuck in that state of being forced awake from a deep afternoon nap (b/c... that’s usually what happens to him)

Plus, have you met his upperclassmen? Have you seen what was going on in Scarabia during Chapter 4?????? Have you met the headmaster of this school????????  (; ω ; )

He doesn’t like people touching stuff that’s his; same thing goes for people touching stuff in general that aren’t theirs; doesn’t like thieves (he’s stolen stuff when he was younger, but he justifies that he only did so to survive; and he’s not entirely wrong)

Ironic b/c his mom was a thief 🤭 

He’s also a pretty obedient student save for the whole “trying to sleep in class w/o getting caught” thing that he’s still trying to accomplish; doesn’t like it when the professors get strict with him but will grit his teeth and bear with it

Prefers magic carpets to magic broomsticks; there’s just a lot more surface area when it comes to carpets plus he’s more familiar with the former

Spends a lot of his time in the Scarabia storage room b/c it reminds him of his bedroom back home; probably became buddies w/ Kalim’s magic carpet while he was there too

But if we’re talking about the type of people Majid could tolerate befriending uummm... maybe those with good hearts?? Idk, like those who are genuinely trying to be a good person no matter what kind of obstacles they run into (referencing how the cave of wonders only let a diamond in the rough enter)

They don’t have to be all nice or sweet, but as long as Majid can tell they have kind intentions, he won’t immediately leave them

Has a “haaah... these guys are hopeless... might as well keep an eye on them so they don’t screw up any more than they already have” attitude towards these people

Other type of person Majid would unintentionally befriend are those who are also annoyed of being told what to do by upperclassmen/authority figures; ☺️🙏  vent out your frustrations together wooo

Has some squabbles with Leona when it comes to napping locations

It’s actually pretty funny to watch b/c they both don’t want to give up their spot but also they don’t want to bother getting up 

Leona wins most of the time, tho

Majid may have had a lot of energy when he was younger but now he’s a g e d

I rarely mention Majid’s lava illusion magic thing, but yeah that’s a thing; he probably won’t be able to use it to its full extent until his last year of high school and maybe a little bit later; it takes up a ton of energy; I keep on imagining him using it and joking that “aaaa the floor is lava lol”, but then I remember the psychological effects this ability has on the victim and 😬 yikes scratch that

Majid has a loud clear voice when he speaks; often startles whoever’s walking by when he naps in the shadows

 As a result of spending most of his time w/o a stable support system and no one static to guide his beliefs, Majid doesn’t follow any particular religion; he does have coworkers back at the curio/appraisal/pawn shop who do, tho, and while he doesn’t entirely understand it, he respects them as much as he can

I’ve said before that Majid selfishly keeps all his wealth to himself for fear of losing his self worth, but there are some exceptions (such as to anyone he passes who’s begging in the streets, a coworker who’s struggling to make ends meet, etc.)

He’s fine with giving away some money, but not in huge amounts 

 And if he’s giving money to anyone, it’s done in a round about way; usually w/ a dismissive excuse 

If this boi had a route, depending on how the MC acts around him, the majority of it will be spent breaking down those walls and befriending him; generally going like this: shovel all trust issues into incinerator one by one —>Get him to tolerate you —> Get him to trust you —> Befriend (?) Him —> Deal w/ his other deep seated issues —-> Romance (if we’re going for that otome game kinda thing i guess???))

I can just imagine Majid temporarily visiting the Land of Hot Sands w/ MC after befriending him and finding out the truth about his parents through his boss at the curio shop; MC encourages him to travel north to pay a visit at some facility b/c it’s rumored that at least his father is still alive 

(No idea what happened to Lara; probably suffered worse consequences due to making several prison breaks; had decently powerful magical abilities, so that would probably explain the whole forced amnesia thing that happened after their disappearance) 

Majid is torn b/w wanting to go alone b/c this is a personal matter (And he wants MC to be safe) and being scared of losing MC if something horrible happens to him on his journey north; he knows what it’s like to be suddenly abandoned, and he doesn’t want that for anybody, especially for someone he cares about 

He doesn’t want to repeat his father’s mistakes, regardless if it was accidental or not 

Majid decides to go on his own; probably had some touching parting w/ MC; maybe we’ll go full otome and have a hugging CG where he swears that he will be back for MC

And MC is just like “Aight;;; cool;;; good luck;;”; something sentimental like that 

Couple of days passed; we’re worried about him 

He returns with a worried look on his face before breaking into a relieved smile when he sees MC; power walks to hug them even tighter than before

Majid thanks them for all they’ve done; he then spends the rest of the day and well into the night describing all he’s experienced and his visit with his dad

 They go back to NRC and Majid is less bratty than before, much to the surprise of Jamil and to the delight of Kalim; actually starts to make an effort to not push people away at every opportunity (b/c he originally felt like they all had their own hidden agenda and were just using him for their own gain, y’know)

Boi becomes even more clingy towards MC; by that, I don’t mean he’s overly attached to them (he’s afraid of making the same mistake he did in the past), but rather he shows it through light casual touches here and there (a brush of the fingers when exchanging papers, patting MC’s head when they do something well, gently tugging at their sleeve when he needs their attention) and constantly checking up on them to see how they’re doing

Awkward levels in Majid increase as he constantly wonders if he’s crossing a line when it comes to him showing any kind of affection; he doesn’t want to come off as creepy and make MC hate him

Might also resist being given love and affection at first; but once he gets used to it, he absolutely m e l t s

Cuddles are 👌; might give teary eyes if MC tries to leave early during a cuddling session, but he won’t pressure them to stay; a touch starved boi

Doesn’t think much of PDA, giving or receiving; full on making out and anything further is kind of a no-go, tho;  hugging is nice and so are short and sweet kisses; will glare at anybody who says anything about it

If his s/o was clingier than he is, he might get a little embarrassed; same thing goes if his s/o was really cute

Definitely the type of boyfriend to buy random gifts for his s/o b/c these things reminded him of them

Younger Majid was in full on puppy mode all the time, or at least when he was around people he liked; also a huge people pleaser too, since he was afraid of them leaving him 

He was probably reckless too in order to entertain his friends

Was really polite, especially when it came to adults; always calling them Mister and Miss(us)

He was also just loud 

Future Majid (if he came to terms with most of his problems) would be more mellow than his teenage self; still anti-social but he’s less angry at the world now; would go on to own the curio shop after the previous owner passed on; reverted it into both a jewelry/appraisal shop in order to honor his father plus respect the previous owner’s memory as well

Sells and repairs jewelry and appraises supposedly rare items that come through his store; still does odd jobs for the people in the neighborhood but his prices aren’t as outrageously high as he made them when he was younger

He names the new store after his mother, at the request of his father (plus I only recently heard the song “House of Gold” by Twenty One Pilots and hnnnmmg it fits well with this golden boy)

Majid is interested in most things related to jewelry, probably subconsciously influenced by his father; this includes repairing bits of jewelry; he moves delicately when it comes to these kinds of tasks

He’s a night owl; it’s much quieter at night

Has bad posture from sleeping in different weird places

His body is prone to heating up easily; the fact that he lives in the Land of Hot Sands and was also sorted into Scarabia is just unfortunate luck

Sneaks off to cooler areas on campus in his free time to chill; one of his favorite spots is the Octavinelle lounge since it’s air conditioned and dark, and he can get away with taking a nap before going over his time limit and getting kicked out

The library is nice too (´∀｀)

Would like to go to Ignihyde too, but he’s put off by the feeling of being underground (gotta have that bit of irony like Jamil being afraid of bugs 👌)

He tolerates Kalim better than Jamil; probably b/c the latter scolds him for slacking off

Actually went to Kalim for tutoring advice once before realizing part of the way that his senior had no idea what he was doing; Jamil has earned his respect when it comes to academics

Kinda jealous of the duo’s stamina; Majid’s usually heaving for air after long marches or if he’s ever chosen as a backup dancer for one of Scarabia’s many parties; he’s the ( ・∇・) least athletic of my OCs...

No, he can’t dance, but he can feign the movements well enough to not get caught

[coffee-bat]

oh, oh geez-

i should have stated it more clearly, oh god- i mentioned in the tags of a post i made earlier today that i managed to get back home-

thank you so much. all of what you said is REALLY good advice, and pretty much what was going on in my head when i was there-

(i ended up writing a LONG vent about the hospital, so i'm gonna put a read more here, sorry)

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i spent a bit over 24 hours there (thankfully only that long). the first few hours, i was panicked- i could barely breathe and the smoke stang my eyes, i had a migraine and no water to swallow painkillers, on top of that i was on period and with no easy bathroom access (it was in the "actual" psych ward down the corridor, meaning i had to be let out of my current room (which was locked at all times), led to the ward entrance (locked too), let in, let to go to the bathroom, and then repeat the same procedure to go back, which sucked)- i was close to attempting escape. like at some point i almost fully decided that the moment someone opens the door to check in on us, i'm fucking running. the only thing that stopped me was that if they ended up catching me, i'd be labeled a nutcase and given even less opportunity to escape. that, and it was below zero degrees outside, i don't know where i'd wait for mom to pick me up. so i decided to wait. stay by the door, where there was a small gap under it, so there was a bit of fresh air, and wait.

i was taken there involuntarily- mom and i had an argument that, as usual, triggered an episode for me, and i ended up cutting both my inner arms (usually i only do the left one, and avoid the inner side). mom decided that she's calling the ambulance on me (two days prior i received an asylum referral that was supposed to be up to my decision), which just left me a bit of time to pack my stuff. the ambulance came, the paramedics were angry that they were called despite me "having barely scratched myself" (thanks, i'll try harder next time), but ended up taking me. i was supposed to go to a respectable asylum in the city (which i currently live 30km away from, but it's the capital of the voivodeship), but it turned out to be closed due to having a covid case, so i was taken to a shithole hospital in a town closer to my house. terrible idea. it was a normal hospital with a psych ward in it, instead of full-on mental hospital, which y'know, tends to go with how they're treating you. so i was put there, without my consent, locked into a small room with two grown men and an older woman, all of them smoking.

the roommates were really anxiety-inducing, honestly. like to the point where i was scared to fall asleep (ending up putting my phone and wallet under my pillow every time). the men were both drunks, and the woman seemed to be too. on top of that, the woman was an ACTUAL nutcase. no idea what was up with her, honestly, but it was nerve-wracking. she didn't know what town she was in, didn't know why she was here, seemed to have some point of memory loss, as she asked me for cigs multiple times, and was suprised when i responded that i don't smoke literally everytime, would talk to herself constantly, at some point started yelling "MOOOM. MAMAA!" out of nowhere- she wasn't aggressive or anything, but it's honestly really scary to be locked with someone you don't understand nor can predict. i felt sorry for her. the men spoke mostly in swear words (the famous "kurwa"s), stared at me weirdly, mostly walked around and smoked. no nurse would listen to me when i tried to explain that 1) i'm scared 2) i can't fucking breathe, why the fuck is noone doing anything about them smoking indoors.

i was shortly talked with by doctors a total of two times- the first one was on the day i was put there, she interviewed me shortly and proceeded to give me sedatives because i was shaking and stress-stimming. in consequence i passed out and slept for three hours, then was really unsure on my feet for the rest of the day. noone listened when i tried to mention that i seem to have reacted badly to the meds. which is to be expected, but y'know. sucks when you have to constantly hold onto something when walking/standing and everyone is pretending it's fine, because they just don't care.

i did my best to keep a calm demeanor through all the time i was there, so i would have bigger chances of being let out- and apparently succeeded, as in the "doctor's description" in the document they gave me upon leaving, i was described as "calm, level-headed and aware". which is nice, as they kept questioning me to check if i'm a nutcase or not ("what year is it? do you know where you are? why are you here? what's your name?"), which was real fucking annoying. i also kept insisting in all the minor check-ins that i should be let out. in my second doctor visit, in the morning of my second day there, i was finally asked "if i think staying would be beneficial for me", and i said fuck no (in the calmest and most level-headed way possible). they asked me a few more times, and when my response didn't change over the course of a few hours, they finally agreed to discharge me, and i called mom to pick me up.

mom was the one who put me there, but when i vented to her about the conditions, she agreed that i have to do anything to be discharged, and she'll pick me up. dad knew too, but he doesn't have a car, so he couldn't really do anything. that, and i'm legally an adult (even if they didn't treat me as such), so i can't really depend on my parents in situations like this. so i was kinda alone in the struggle.

the physical conditions were obviously horrible. it was cold (snowing outside), the room was dirty, i had no privacy or way to hide from the men, so i ended up just not changing. the only food i was given was dry bread with green-ish ham and a small apple (supper) and dry bread with cheese that smelled highly suspicious and a one (1) inch wide piece of bell pepper. so i ended up eating dry bread and the fruit/vegetables. they gave us plastic cups, and there was a sink, so at least i had a way to drink. the water left sediment in my mouth, but it was still something.

the bathroom situation was fucking ridiculous. on top of having to be let out to go there, there was obviously no toilet paper, cause what did i expect. when i was woken up in the morning to go to the other doctor, i practically begged to be allowed to go to the bathroom first. they denied, so i asserted my dominance by bleeding on the therapist chair (and ruining a pair of pants).

so yeah, tl;dr: mental hospitals suck, especially when they're in underfounded shitholes.

(bonus: pictures of my room to illustrate my points: )