#sorry for so much sadness on your dash i just. i cant deal with this at all. i dont know how ill cope

[sleepless-crows]

no because i have cousins halfway across the world right now. a few years ago i've never actually met some of them since they were born there, they stayed here for like 2 months and had to go back. i wasn't even as close to them as my brothers were, but i was the one who cried. i'm the most sentimental, emotional person i know. and now my other cousin, my best friend, who i spent almost every waking hour of almost every single day with when we were kids, who was my best friend, has to go halfway across the world in a few months. throughout my life, she has always been the constant. i made friends and i lost friends but even when i grew and changed and she grew and changed, she still treats me like how close we were when we were little kids. we'd play with dolls together. we'd eat scrambled egg with syrup together. we always wore matching dresses every christmas. we would argue over the stupidest things. we would sing together. we would choreograph dances together and never actually perform them. we went to golf camp together. we did so many things and even if we aren't that close compared to before, she was probably the closest friend i ever had. and she's leaving. what am i supposed to do with that

[oikawaplssteponme]

Close as Strangers: pt 2

part 1

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

warnings: swearing, breakup, suggestive content

genre: angst with a happy ending

a/n: hi hi! i cant believe so many of you wanted a part 2 so here it is! you all seem to like how i write for bakugou which means a lot💕!! i once again hurt my own feelings a little bit with this one but it has a better ending than part 1 hehe. enjoy xx

•

Silence is the absence of noise. Sadness is the absence of joy. Fear is the absence of courage. Just because you are quiet at one point, doesn’t mean you will stay quiet forever. Just because you are sad at one point, doesn’t mean you’ll never be happy again. Things can go missing for short periods of time or even long ones but one thing is for sure; they always come back eventually.

You were the absence of Katsuki Bakugou. He was gone. No longer in your vicinity. Every time you saw him, he felt more like a ghost than a person. Lurking around, observing you. You supposed that’s what always happens when you break up with someone. They become a memory that you wish to kept stored and never remember. Just looking at their face can give you a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Breaking up with someone is a weird concept. The person you love most can become the person you never want to see again over night. Especially when things end the way they did between you and Bakugou.

His silence was deafening. It seemed that his silence said more than his shouting or screams ever did. His promises were just as empty. He promise to do better. He promised to make things better. However, he didn’t. You always took Bakugou as a man who stuck to his words. Maybe he stuck to his word more when it didn’t come to you.

You thought that distracting yourself with others would help. You spent a lot of time with Deku. He was a good guy after all and he gave you a lot of attention, which was something you had been missing. The two of you weren’t together though, no matter how badly Izuku wanted otherwise.

~

“Y/N!”

You looked over your shoulder to see Deku rushing towards you with one of his dashing smiles.

“Oh hi...”

He took a seat next to you on the common area couch, putting his arm around you.

“How are you? I didn’t see you much today,” he said. You shrugged.

“I’m alright, just been busy I guess.”

“Oh okay. Well we can hang in my room if you’d like?” suggested Deku. As tempting as sitting in a room filled with All Might posters sounded, you wanted to be alone.

“I actually don’t feel that great so I think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” you explained. You got up from the couch.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You laid flat on your bed, staring at your ceiling. One part of you was telling you to just go to Izuku’s room, the other was telling you to go to Bakugou’s. Both seemed like the wrong answer.

You turned to your side. On top of your desk was a picture frame. The picture was backwards. You flipped the picture frame over and began to open it up.

It was a picture of you and Bakugou. You had fallen asleep on him in his room and he was out cold as well. He had left the door open, prompting his friends to enter his room and observe this softer side of Bakugou. They had snapped a picture, which was the one you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away.

You felt guilty for feeling these feelings. You shouldn’t miss him. Yet here you were, missing the boy who broke your heart beyond repair. What held you back from dating Izuku was that he wasn’t Bakugou.

You set the picture frame down and slipped on a jacket and some shoes. Quietly, you left your room and allowed your feet to take you where they pleased. That inevitably led you to his door.

Your fist hovered maybe a millimeter away from his door. You were so close to knocking, unsure if you wanted him to answer or not. You took a deep breath before placing two small taps on his door.

He was probably asleep. He would probably get mad if you woke him up. You knew you should leave. What happens if he answers? What happens then?

“H-Hi...”

Bakugou’s eyes widened when he recognized that it was you at his doorstep. You were shaking, unsure if it was from nerves or the cold air the swarmed the dorms.

“I’m sorry for bothering you...I-l’ll leave-” you ran from his door so quickly. Your feet led you outside the dorms and to the training ground.

There was a sense of comfort at the training ground. That was probably why you would always come here whenever you were upset. It was like reminiscing in what used to be, and how much you missed it.

“You’re predictable.”

You looked up at Bakugou, who stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets.

“Why’d you follow me?”

“Hey you ran from me. No shit I’d be curious as to why.”

Bakugou held his hand out to you.

“Come on, let’s talk inside.”

~

You sat on Bakugou’s bed. From the months you had been apart, his room hadn’t changed a bit. His desk had a picture frame on it, however it was turned around.

Bakugou took a seat at the edge of his bed, while your back was pressed against his bed frame.

“You wanted to talk. So talk,” you said plainly. Bakugou huffed.

“Why’d you knock on my door?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Bullshit Y/N.”

“I can’t give you a good answer,” you whispered.

“You don’t get to decide if the answer is good or not. I do, so just spit it out.”

You shook your head.

“God that damn nerd must have a hell of a lot of patience dealing with you...”

“Fuck you.”

“So that’s why you came to my door? Fair enough,” he chuckled. You clenched your fists.

“Deku and I aren’t together,” you shot back. This got a reaction out of him. Bakugou moved closer to you.

“Good, because that nerd doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“You don’t know me at all, since half of the time when we were together you would ignore me.”

Bakugou moved closer again.

“So you’re just gonna scold me for everything I did wrong when we were together?”

“That would take too long.”

“Then why are you here?”

You leaned in to be closer to Bakugou’s face. You looked him dead in the eyes.

“I’m clingy, remember?”

“Hey I apologized for that-”

“You could apologize a million times more but that doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t fix us or what we could’ve been or what we were. You and your apologies are meaningless to me,” you said.

“Meaningless? Really?”

“Really.”

“Well if I’m so meaningless, then why haven’t you left yet? Why are you sitting so pretty on my bed? Legs crossed, eyes wide. I’m not so sure Y/N, something is telling me there’s more to this,” smirked Bakugou. Your stomach clenched.

“Just answer me this.” Bakugou moved to have you pressed against the bed frame again, his hand on the frame next to your head. You gulped.

“Me or him?”

��That’s not-”

“Answer me.”

Bakugou’s breath was hot on your face. You both knew the answer, only you knew it was the wrong one. This interaction with Bakugou was probably more than you two ever spoke in your last week of dating.

“What happens after I answer? Nothing changes,” you said.

“If nothing is gonna change, why are you so hesitant?”

You sighed.

“I want things to change. I want you to change.”

“I’ll change-”

“No you won’t. You say you will but we both know you won’t. The second I leave this room, you and I will be as close as strangers, just as we always were. I gave you second chances but I can’t give you anymore. I can’t give myself that false hope that you’ll do better, because you won’t,” you cried.

Bakugou sat back. His demeanor changed from confident to melancholy.

“I hate seeing you with him. I hate it!”

“Katsuki-“

“You picked him to hurt me, didn’t you? You’re not suppose to be with him. You’re supposed to be with me-”

For once, you wanted silence. The only way you could think to get that desired silence was to shut Bakugou up.

The only way you thought to do that was to kiss him.

Shut him up with the lips he used to beg to kiss. With the clashing of teeth and tongue you both so desperately craved. Your hands held Bakugou’s cheeks as you kissed him. He pulled you towards him. His hands gripped tightly onto your waist as you sat on his lap. Your hands now tangled in his hair. His hands exploring every inch of you that he had missed so much. Oh how he kissed you. Certainly he was doing that better at least.

You and Bakugou had to gasp for air.

“Please Y/N... don’t pick him...”

You looked at Bakugou. He had puppy dog eyes. His lips began to quiver and he quickly buried his face into your chest.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry...”

He continued to mutter these apologies to you. He cried so softly into your chest. You shushed him, rubbing his back to calm him down, kissing the top of his head. He tightened his grip around your waist, holding onto your t-shirt.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay...”

Bakugou hugged you so tightly. He wasn’t gonna let you slip away again.

“Bakugou look at me,” you ordered. His red eyes looked into yours. You gently wiped away his stray tears.

“I don’t know what you want me to do. Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. But I want the version of you that I fell in love with, not the one that broke my heart. And that’s the problem. I don’t know which one I’m going to get.”

Bakugou shook his head.

“Please don’t leave, please don’t leave me. Everyone always leaves so I try to leave first but I won’t this time. I won’t mess up. I can’t bare to see you with anyone else but me...”

“I don’t like it either. I’m trying to move on but it’s really hard...”

“Please I’ll do anything to have you back...absolutely anything...”

“I just need you to do better... and not just promise to do it, I need actions Katsuki...”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I swear. Y/N please...I love you.”

Your eyes widened, then began to shed its own tears. You hugged Bakugou again.

“I love you Bakugou.”

You showered the blond boy with endless kisses, unsure what else to do. You really did love him. That fact never changed.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

~

The next day, Katsuki Bakugou did better.

•

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl @marajillana @luluwiie @tanakasprayer @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy ]

[karasimpno]

{Day 24} The Party Goes With You | Kuroo x Reader

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Gn!Reader

Genre: businessman!poker-playing!Kuroo AU, angsty-knight-in-shining-armor moment, angst/pining

WC: ~1.3k

Warnings: suggestion of unhappy/borderline abusive marriage, alcohol, gambling, cigar use

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

And we’re dancing nose to nose Darling do you suppose, oh darling do you suppose this party could be just us two? — The Party Goes With You; 35mm (music and lyrics by Ryan Scott Oliver)

You don’t speak of names or faces, but there is one face that always stands out to you.

Well, part of a face, rather, as the businessman with the immaculately-pressed suits always seems to let his hair hang down over his right eye. He’s all flashes of white teeth and heated golden gazes as cigar smoke swirls around the dimly-lit back room of the seemingly hole-in-the-wall bar. His lips move flawlessly as he tells joke after joke, keeping conversation moving as he robs the other players blind.

Though you usually work the front bar, serving cheap, disgusting drinks to equally foul men, on Saturday nights, you’re required to play dealer in the high-stakes poker game that is run out of the discreet back room of the bar. Your husband owns the place but owes money to every player, so he’s never there. But he thought his high-profile patrons could use a pretty face and a nice body to look at while they weekly gamble away some of their highest earnings—the bids rising to numbers beyond what you could ever make in a year.

Dealing is simple. The actual game itself is surprisingly not very heated, considering the fortunes at stake. But the gentleman with the hair as black as pitch and the shining golden ring on one of his nimble fingers is what keeps it so. The cant of his voice and his relaxed posture, suit jacket slung over the back of his chair, keep everyone in amiable spirits, energy flowing between them like the liquor through their veins. His lips move flawlessly as he charms his competitors, periodically lifting a crystal glass with his favorite Armagnac to them as locks eyes with you over the rim of his drink. He is dashing to say the least, and his gaze makes your body temperature rise, but you manage to keep your posture indifferent as you shuffle and flip the cards. With light conversation in sultry tones, the evenings are always interesting, as renowned businessmen do their best to outdo each other, racking up substantial bar tabs all the while.

Oh, and your favorite part.

In addition to taking the pot, at the end of every round, the player with the most winnings earns an added prize: a dance with the alluring dealer. You’d be exaggerating if you said that your mystery man wins every round, but certainly not by much. He ends up on top in a good 90% of the games.

“Sorry, fellas,” he always smirks devilishly, rising from his seat as the losing players grumble, throwing their cards down on the custom-made black felt. In spite of yourself, your heart skips a beat every time he extends his long fingers across the table to you. With a smile that you attempt to tame into mere professionalism, you accept his hand. Ever so gracefully, he lifts your joined hands over the heads of the other players, carefully guiding you from your nook in the table to the open space adjacent to it. Some of the players get up and wander into the front bar to buy more liquor. Others stick around and busy themselves chatting about their businesses and dealings. But you hardly ever pay attention to any of that, as the moment his firm hand snakes around your waist, pressing heavily but comfortably against your lower back and pulling you fast against his chest, everything else fades into the background.

He’s clearly an excellent dancer—feels like he could have studied ballroom dancing—but all you ever do with him is sway and spin as he speaks lowly into your ear, incapable of being heard by the others. He pulls you so close that you feel like every part of you is touching him as your chins hover over each other’s shoulders. He doesn’t speak of husbands or wives or work or his life at home. He always just speaks of the oddest things, some fun new fact, or something interesting he saw the other day. Neglected by your husband, this man makes you feel sexy, and wanted, and alive with your hand wrapped in his strong but surprisingly gentle one. Respecting your privacy and knowing your husband, he doesn’t ask you about yourself but you love just to hear him talk. He always comes up with the most interesting things to tell you and you love that about him.

You didn’t love your husband. Maybe you never did, but he’d grown so aggressive with you since making you manage his debts, the bar, his patrons...you had nothing left for him but resentment. But something about the dashing businessman whose name you don’t even know has you finding a spark in your life again.

“Alright boys,” he always says with a characteristic grin when he’s had enough gambling and drinking for the night. Some weekends it’s ten or eleven. Other weekends it stretches into one, two, once even three in the morning before he called it quits, his competition unraveling into drunken stupors as he stayed just as cool and collected, even as the empty brandy glasses began to accumulate around him late into the night. Your husband had instructed you to continue to deal for as long as the players were making bets.

When the man with eyes as brilliant as the sun stands to make his final call, he slings his discarded jacket over his shoulder, his other hand resting confidently on his hip. The other players chatter amongst themselves, murmurings of “maybe one more game,” or “should we stick around for another drink?” but they almost never do. When he makes his move to leave, the party goes with him. You often find yourself getting distracted watching him walk out the front of the bar with no hurry in the world, each slow step after step making your field of vision narrow down even smaller, until it only encompasses him.

You catch yourself sighing and are snapped back to the reality of what’s left behind: a bunch of men no different than any of the schmucks you serve at the front of the bar, the only difference between them being the withdrawal limit on their checking accounts. Whereas the mystery man always makes a point to thank you before he goes, his golden eyes halting on yours, the rest of the men attempt to sober themselves up and stumble out of the bar with grunts and dirty looks, leaving the mess of their indulgences behind.

And you’re left to daydream, thinking only of the man who comes in once a week, like a shadowy whirlwind of passion and excitement, dashing in and out of your life every Saturday night. The weeks are long, your husband is cruel, and the patrons at the front bar are unforgiving. Cleaning up after messy customers, you long for the weekend to come around, for the sight of that one man who makes your heart race and sweeps you off your feet before even touching you. You wish you could go back and rewrite the story of your life so that you met this man before your husband, and you could live a happy life together, just the two of you. Sometimes you catch yourself daydreaming of what a domestic life with him would look like, and remind yourself that he doesn’t even know your name, nor you his.

But when you’re dancing nose-to-nose, heat emanating from his chest and warming you from head to toe, you can’t help but buy into the fantasy that maybe he feels the same way. You want to ask him what he thinks, always desperate to know more—more about him, more about what he thinks of you, more of the way he sees the world, more, more, more from him. But the dance ends too soon, and you’re back to your role as dealer, him as player. The cards flip through your fingertips but all you crave is your fingers on his skin. The dream is as fleeting as a lead in the game.

And when he goes, the party—your life, your love, your spirit—goes with him.

A/n: okay this song is EVERYTHING to me but to me it’s always captured more of a feeling than like an easily interpretable scene for me. Phrases like “speakeasy, hole in the wall” and “cleaning up for vows in gold” and “the gayest party sad but true” just stick out to me and like I’ve always struggled to like ground it in some kind of narrative. BUT I took little nuggets in the song and became really attracted to the like singer falling in love with someone they barely know but see/serve all the time in sort of a bar setting. I was also really inspired by this scene in Molly’s Game (which is a good movie if you haven’t seen it)....I just love the idea of businessman Kuroo in like a cigar smoke-filled haze, drinking nice brandy, pulling you close and whispering sweet nothings in your ear......phew. This one is for my girl @bluntkingkuroo​ And THANK YOU GUYS so much for following along for such a fun event! I hope you all liked it!!! Xoxoxoxo -Elle

taglist: @slutawara​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @honeybunny-sawamura @harokat

[mypoisonedvine]

Helping Hand - Chapter 1

Jaskier x (female)Reader

Rating: E 

Warnings: None, just a lot of smut and hopefully some fluff and angst to come

Word Count: a bit over 3k

Prompt: “Hey hey! I basically just read every piece of Jaskier stuff on your page and I'm in looooove. Could you write one where the reader (female) has been cursed with a love spell? Kinda? Like every touch is ultry heightened but she cant "take care of business" unless it's from the person she loves? So she has to embarrassingly ask/confess to Jaskier (and maybe Geralt if you want) for a helping hand?” (thanks for not only the prompt but the title idea lol)

Taglist: @100percentamess @mytinybaguette 

Of course, you assumed the old hag was just senile, at first.  When someone pisses someone else off, it’s somewhat normal to curse them, it’s just that it’s not really literal.  So why would you take it seriously when some woman claiming to be a bog witch says that she’ll put a curse on you for trespassing on her swamp?  

You didn’t even really pay attention to what she’d said- something about your true affections coming to light?  And she had rhymed light with plight?  But you forgot what the plight even was, because it didn’t matter.  

Your first sign that something was wrong was when you rejoined Geralt and Jaskier at the edge of the bog.  They’d asked how your search went, all was normal, but then Jaskier touched you.  It was casual, something you never would’ve even thought about previously, but this time it felt oddly strong.  Like he was gripping you with so much force, like he had punched you in the shoulder.  Except it wasn’t painful?  Just powerful.  You still yelped in surprise.

“Damn, it was just a bug on your shoulder, no need to have a fit,” Jaskier mumbled.

“Why did you touch me so… hard?”

“I barely touched you…?  Are you injured?” he asked.  He started to reach out to examine you but you ducked away.

"I'm fine," you grumbled.

You weren't fine, and it became clear to you very quickly.  As soon as you'd all begun to travel back into town, the heat started.  It was cold out, and yet you felt like you were burning up.  You didn't say anything because you didn't want to cause alarm over hot flashes.  But then you felt that undeniable need, usually not the sort of thing to strike you in the afternoon as you walked alongside Roach, burning through you.  You looked over to Jaskier and though he looked the same as always, you felt like you were seeing him with new eyes.  As you gaze scanned each part of him, an urge to reach out and touch whatever you could reach began to knock against your brain.  It’s not like you’d never noticed he was attractive before, but now it was like you couldn’t see anything else; you forced yourself to look away before you couldn’t stop yourself from pouncing on him.  

The second you were back in town, you were in the pub and drinking like it was the end of the world.  This was the sort of strange feeling that you felt like only alcohol could wash down.  Of course, it turns out you were entirely wrong- being drunk just made it impossible to resist the ridiculous whims running through your mind.

“Say, would you pass me that-” Jaskier began.  He hadn’t even finished when you jumped up and reached for the nearby mug of ale, handing it to him eagerly.  “Erm, thanks,” he nodded.  Even as you felt embarrassed upon realizing that your reaction was rather strange, you felt relief wash over you for some reason.  To know that you had done what he wanted, perhaps to have even made him happy in some small way, was deeply satisfying.  

“Are you feeling alright?” Geralt asked with a mildly concerned expression.  Knowing that this was only going to get worse, you decided to take the opportunity to leave while you still could.

“This ale hits harder than I’d anticipated.  I’ll turn in early, I think,” you decided as you stood up, giving a quick bow before you dashed upstairs to your room.

You fell onto your bed, and though your mind was requesting for some time to think about whatever the hell was going on, your body was alight with a very clear and unified need.  You were barely laying down before you were shimmying your trousers down and touching yourself.  It was good, but instantly you were longing for something more, and though you didn’t mean to think of him, Jaskier (of course) popped into your mind.  Thinking of Jaskier brought you so much closer but never close enough.  You were desperate enough to rub yourself raw seeking release, but you knew that it would never work.  You certainly tried several times anyways, but soon you were looking to the door, then you looked away, then you looked back to the door, and repeated this until your desperation overcame your guilt and you found yourself stumbling down the hall to Jaskier’s room.

"Jask…?" you prompted as you pushed open the door.  You found him laying back on his bed, setting a book aside to greet you.

"What is it?" he asked cheerily.  You closed the door behind you.

"Do you remember a few months ago… we were at that pub in Cintra-" you began.

"I remember," he interrupted, almost sounding stern about it.

Talking about it made your stomach feel all floaty and twisty.  You'd agreed it was a mistake, fueled by drunkenness and loneliness- him just having been dumped by the Countess again and you having developed affections for a man you'd encountered on the journey only to discover he had failed to mention he was married.  (For you, marriage was actually a deal-breaker, much to Jaskier's surprise.)  We both really wanted someone else, you'd told him, and settled on each other.  He'd thought that was a good summary, you shook hands on it and thankfully were able to move on as friends.  And that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry to bring it up," you nervously apologized.

"It's not like I'd forgotten about it," he chuckled.

"I'm sort of- I have a… situation," you began.

"The same sort of situation that had you falling into my bed?" he presumed.  You felt your face get hot from hearing that.  He seemed a little agitated, which made you very concerned that this was going to backfire on you.  But, you were in too deep to stop now.

"I suppose," you answered.

"There's plenty of fish in the sea," he shrugged.

"I want you, specifically," you clarified.  "I need you.  It has to be you."

“So, I’ve ruined you for all other men?” he smirked.

“I can’t… by myself,” you gestured, hoping he would get what you meant.

"I’ve ruined you even for yourself?”

"I think I was cursed!" you finally blurted out.

"Falling in love with me can feel like a curse, I know, but don't blame yourself," he soothed sarcastically, resting his hands behind his head.

"That day I went into the bog, you touched me- and ever since, everything's been wrong, and you're the only person who can… I can't even think about anyone else," you continued.  He seemed to actually start paying attention.  "I have this strange urge to do what you tell me to, it feels so, erm, good.  It feels good to do what you ask of me."

He straightened up a bit, his smile dropping.  "Okay, that doesn't sound anything like you.  You've definitely been cursed."

"And I have this… desire.  It's overwhelming.  I can't even think straight."

“You- you should have Geralt take care of you.  He’s got a lot of stamina, and no pesky feelings to get in the way,” he dismissed, looking away from you as he got up off the bed. 

If you weren’t so high on desperation, you would’ve noticed the implications of his phrasing, but of course you were, so you didn’t.

“I want you,” you begged, “please.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you weren’t cursed,” he scoffed.  You stepped closer and in such a small room he was already so close and your body felt like a tuning fork, vibrating and humming for him.

“Of course not.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” you countered, your breathing suddenly heavy.

He looked at you and he almost looked pained… sad, guilty maybe.  Since when did a woman begging for him inspire anything but unadulterated joy in any man, let alone a man like Jaskier?

“Please,” you whimpered one more time.  He stepped forward and reached out, tentatively at first, and brushed his fingers against your chest.  You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan.

“Wow, you’re really worked up, huh?” he asked, somewhere between genuine concern and teasing.  You nodded feverishly.

“How can I help you?” he asked softly.

“Make love to me,” you pleaded.

He made a peculiar noise when you said that, like a gasp and a sigh at once, even though they’re technically opposites.

He leaned in and you nearly sobbed at just the idea of him kissing you.  Instead he pressed his lips against your neck, even the slightest touch causing your hips to buck towards him.  He reached around and started to undo the lacing on the back of your bodice- even through the layers of your blouse you felt the warmth of his fingertips, and the delicate movements of his hands sent shivering tingles up and down your back.  He’d only been touching you for maybe twenty seconds and you felt like you were two-thirds to orgasm- everything was more sensitive, more powerful.  You weren’t sure how you would keep your composure.

“This ale hit you really hard, hm?”

“It’s not the ale,” you panted.

“That’s not what you’ll say tomorrow morning,” he theorized.

“What will I say- ah- tomorrow morning?” you asked, trying to stop every moan and whimper from arising.  He’d gotten your top off just enough to expose your shoulders and was kissing along the left one like it was actually worth kissing even though it was just a damn shoulder.  An hour ago you’d have killed for him to kiss you like this anywhere, but now that you were here, suddenly you had much more specific ideas.

“I won’t be able to tell what you’re saying because you’ll be smashing my lute over my head,” he chuckled.

You’d sort of forgotten what question you were asking.

“You really think I dislike you that much?” you asked quietly.  He didn’t answer, pulling your blouse up over your head and letting it fall to the floor.  You expected it to be cold but you suddenly felt warmer than ever, like you were wrapped in warm blankets.  Even better than warm blankets, though, you were wrapped in Jaskier’s arms, which felt so much stronger than you remembered as he pulled you close and guided you to his bed.  

You expected him to lay with you but instead he laid you down and stepped back.  You felt very aware of your toplessness, and that he was fully dressed and staring at you.

“Aren’t you going to undress?” you asked nervously.  

“Or I could just stare at you all night,” he offered, crossing his arms.

“No, please, touch me,” you whined, your back arching.

“I was just kidding, don’t stress yourself out,” he laughed, slipping off his doublet and chemise and climbing on top of you.  His body pressed against yours was everything you’d dreamed, everything you’d wanted, and finally he kissed you.  You recognized it a bit from the back of the pub rendezvous but this one was different, a little slower, a little deeper.  You decided that you needed to kiss him again when you were sober because this kiss was too good to be wasted on a version of yourself that couldn’t remember it perfectly, which sadly applied to both instances so far.  Suddenly he rolled his hips, ever so slightly, and you felt that he was hard and it rubbed against you in just the right place and instantly you came, even with your trousers still on.  You did your best to hide it, your moans lost in his lips, and either he didn’t notice or didn’t mind because all he did was pull you closer.  Your face felt hot, in fact all of you felt hot, and even as relief had just washed over you, you were not spared from your desire.  If anything, the edge had been taken off, and yet you felt like you needed him more than ever.  

“Please, inside me, please,” you managed to mumble between kisses.  He didn’t respond, but he did reach down to start pulling your trousers lower.  You lifted your hips so he could do it more easily and you sort of hoped he would just get them down to your knees and get on with it, but instead he took the time to take them all the way off, sitting back on his legs to peel each leg off your feet.  You sat up with him, starting to work on his trousers and having to fight yourself to do it slowly rather than ripping them off.  Once you could pull them down enough to get his cock out, though, you were nixing the entire trousers concept and wrapping your hand around it.  You sighed with relief, just to feel it so warm and heavy in your grip.  Compelled for more, you found yourself leaning forward and taking it into your mouth.  You heard him gasp and it was the most wonderful noise, the sound of it giving you that wonderful feeling like you’d done something good, something so right.  You bobbed up and down and it seemed to come naturally to you, his gasps getting faster and turning to moans.

“I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you,” he panted.  You just moaned around him, doing your best to take him as deep as you could.  His fingers wove into your hair, and just the way they grazed your scalp made your skin tingle and shiver all over.  He didn’t let you go on much longer until he grabbed your shoulders and (lightly) pushed you back onto the bed, balancing on his forearms to hover above you.  You thought he might say something, and he was looking at you like he wanted to say something, but he just kissed you again.  How could just a kiss have so much of an effect on you?

But then he was running his hands along your legs, and gently spreading them open, and that had even more of an effect on you.  In fact, you had to put in so much effort just to suppress your reaction, and yet your head still fell back against the pillow and your lips still leaked out a little moan.

“Is this the curse?  Or the ale?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing against your jaw.

“It’s just you,” you mumbled.

“Bull.  It’s the curse,” he smiled, “but I’ll pretend it’s me anyways.”

“Please, don’t tease me any longer,” you pleaded quietly, your back arching off the bed.

“This isn’t teasing, it’s seducing,” he frowned.

“I don’t care for it.” 

“You seem to be having a good time,” he smirked, kisses running down to your collarbones, chest, and finally delicately wrapping around a hardened nipple.  You whined, suddenly unable to form any words with which to respond.  His right hand trailed around your thigh, reaching closer to where you needed him most until he ever-so-casually plunged two fingers into you.  You had to dig your nails into his shoulder to resist crying out, afraid that if you were as loud as you wanted to be, you’d get a noise complaint from the neighboring rooms.  He barely even had to move them to hit spots inside you that you hadn’t realized you had, making your hips buck and your legs shake.

“Please,” you stuttered, “I need you.”

“You have me,” he said as if it were some simple, obvious thing to say and not the sort of thing that would make you want for him so desperately that you feared fainting.  

And all at once he removed his fingers, reaching to wrap his hands around your waist and since when were his hands so big?

And all at once he was pushing his hips closer to yours and your gaze met his and since when were his eyes so blue?

And all at once he was inside you and you didn’t really care about noise complaints anymore.

~

“Jaskier?  Are you awake?” you whispered.

“I am now,” he responded quietly, turning to face you in the bed.  There was only moonlight streaming in through the window but it cast the most beautiful shadows and you found yourself running your fingers along his muscled chest.  

"I long for you," you admitted, "I need you."

"Again?"

Gods, did he have to make it seem like such a chore?

“Don’t you understand?  I have no other way to get off!”

“Well, how often were you getting off before?”

“I don’t know, maybe… once, twice a night?”

His eyes went wider than you’d maybe ever seen them.  “Holy- you can’t be serious.”

“What?” you shrugged.

“You’re insatiable!  I mean, with a libido like that, how and why are you the most chaste of the three of us?”

“Because I’m getting off on my own three times a night.”

“You said once or twice,” he frowned.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I told you I go four times in a row,” you smirked.

“I’m afraid to keep talking to you in case the number just keeps going up,” he sighed, his head falling into his hands. “I can’t keep up with that!”

“You can!” you encouraged. “You have,” you mumbled.

“I have?” he repeated, perking up all of a sudden.

“Yeah, well, before…” you trailed off.  “You’re just trying to flatter me until I agree to make love to you four times a day,” he dismissed.

“No, that’s what I’m saying.  You don’t need to, er, do that four times to get four… just once is apparently enough.”  How was it so hard to say the words when you’d already done the deeds? “Apparently?  I think we need to test that theory,” he smiled, and though it was dark and you could barely see anything, you still saw a little glimmer shining in his eye.

~

“Jaskier, we need to get up,” you reminded as you shook him awake.

“Are we leaving town, or do you just want me to make love to you again?” “You weren’t complaining when I woke you up the last two times,” you remembered with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well, I wasn’t as underslept then.  Gods, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”  He turned to you, and moved a lock of hair behind your ear.  “Aren’t you exhausted?”  

But he was giving you this... look, and you weren’t sure if it was the look, but apparently it was enough to get you inspired.  You pulled him into a kiss, climbing on top of him and straddling his legs with yours.  

“Suddenly I’m feeling very energized, actually,” you smiled.

(next chapter)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Offenderman x Reader || Oneshot

Title: The L Word

Plot: Offender falls in love with you, and rearranges your entire, admittedly dark, outlook on the word. 

~~~

“You… couldn’t.”

“Unfortunately,” There’s an edge of spite, in his voice that he definitely learnt from Slender. Only he could come up with such an exhausted, bitter sound. “I can.” A million thoughts wander through my brain, slowly so I can’t quite react yet. I just look up at him, not even raising my chin fully to be comfortable. I don’t want to move and give him the wrong reaction to this.

He loves me???

Well, reaction one, first. My entire life, I’ve thought something was wrong with me. I had crushes, sure! But not like what everyone else talked about. I never experienced feeling empty when they were gone, never wanted to be with them all the time. I never even really ‘fell’ for guys who had things in common with me! Something so basic, a necessity to hold onto a perfect relationship. Or even a mediocre one, according to society. It was always about looks. A contagious smile, broad shoulders, thick hair. I never liked, anyone, in that sense. It was always attraction, and I thought there was something wrong with me! Then I realised what I really wanted out of a relationship, and I felt better finally. Even more when I met Offender. Because he was exactly the person, I could be platonically friends with, and love in that regard. And then still fuck and be fulfilled entirely, and not be afraid of either side falling in love. I thought it was foolproof. 110 percent reliable. And infallible.

And now he’s telling me he’s fallen in love with me?? No wonder he took so long to get it out and tell me. He was scared. He kinda should be.

Reaction 2. Sadness. If even he can feel it, what’s wrong with me??

Reaction 3, finally. I gotta get out of here, but my feet are stuck to the floor.

“Say something, Y/N, you’re awfully quiet.”

“I… I already did.”

He grins, and shakes his head. “Not enough.”

I open my mouth thinking for some stupid reason that something to say might occur to me just in time, but it doesn’t. Luckily, my feet stop sticking to the floor though and I whip around and dash for the door. I get out of the room but not 2 steps down the hallway before Offenders in front of me and is holding me to my spot.

I realise his grip isn’t that tight, that if I wanted to I could rip away and escape, But I don’t want to.

I just need to. I won’t stay here and pretend that I feel what everyone else says they do. Who knows how many people in history have pretended to feel that? Who have died from unhappy marriages, and relationships?? I won’t go that way, I can’t I want to be stimulated, and I don’t want to be tied down. As much as I love him, platonically, I could never do that to myself. I am all I have, and I need to take care of her.

“Nah, nah, nah, no fleeing now. You had plenty of chances to do that before you did this to me. You stay here and own up to it.” Gone is Slender’s trademark tone, back is his signature goading one. Horrifying desperation and care blow through it like a train though and I fight the urge to make a face. His fingers stretch and tighten over my shoulders and nearly calm down. Something I have always, and still, excuse as an entirely physical reaction. More to do with what else his hands can do to me rather then him.

“Own up to what? I didn’t do this to you. You did it to yourself. You knew what you were getting into.”

“Own up to fact that you feel it to. We’re peas in a pod sweetheart and if I’m feeling something impossible then I bet you are too. I’m just so much smarter.” He bares his teeth in a kind of grin, one that looks forced and taught but meant to underline his dig and put me at ease. Or maybe himself.

I feel absolutely hopeless. I thought he understood. I thought someone apart from myself, finally understood that I can’t feel that, but once again I’m put in this horrible fucking position, of trying to persuade someone of something they think is impossible. It’s like telling someone from the stone age that you make sandwiches out of bread and peanut butter. Impossible, and frustrating, and now it hurts, because it’s my best friend doing this to me. I shake my head. “No, I… I can’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You wouldn’t have run away so fast if you didn’t feel something too. You don’t run away from people you only want to fuck. You don’t feel so sorry for letting them down that you run-“Desperately, he’s trying to explain it to me but he’s not in my head. No one is. So they cant tell me how I feel. Boiling rage starts to bubble up in my chest, heart beating faster.  

“I don’t want to be tied down! And you’re supposed to want to be and to want to be with the person you love all the time, and live with them, and take vacations with them, and tell them where you’re going all the time, but I can’t do that. I can’t! And I don’t want to! So stop trying to tell me-“

“You don’t need to do any of that. Honestly, I don’t want it either! It doesn’t have to be that way, that’s just how they present it on TV! It’s not ownership, so we can mould it to anything we want! You want to continue like we do, only seeing each other a couple times a fucking month? That’s fine! You want to sleep with others, I don’t care! I just want to know that you feel it about me and I’m not a fucking crazy person.” He can’t even say it. That stumps me.

Because, neither can I.

I don’t like how it looks and I can barely stomach imagining it, so I can’t say the word. The L word, that we’re fighting about.

“I don’t want to have to listen to your input on my decisions, either.” The muscles in my shoulders, and in my clenched fingers relax and I stop being so angry.

“Fantastic, I don’t want you telling me I can’t do my shit either.” He’s reading my mind. “Look, this thing,” Here, he makes a sound that might be the L word, but its guttural and shaped wrong and he moves on quick. He really doesn’t want to say it. I watch and listen to him talk now with no expectations, wide open. Heart and mind. Let’s try it this way. He’s making sense so far… “Doesn’t mean anything has to change. Nothing! It’s not chains, I don’t think. Its… Look, I’ve been around a long time Y/N, and I’ve seen it. Not personally, of course, until you I wouldn’t have touched it with a 50-metre pole, but you don’t live centuries without learning about it. And to my knowledge and deductions, its biggest piece of hooey and bullshit that societies ever crapped out.” Again, the guttural sound with a quick, half ‘L’ sound at the start. “It doesn’t mean to be with someone all the time and like it. Its deeply personal. A connection between 2 people that cannot be replicated by anything. So it can be whatever we want it to be. And guess what? You don’t have to explain it to any noisy bitches either.” He tilts his head and I feel like he’s looking at me stern now. “Don’t get caught up in the fairy tales that you see on TV.”

After a moment, relief comes crashing through me. Every vein in my body releases it, and it rushes through my bloodstream. My muscles all relax, and I nearly topple over. I would have, probably, if Offender wasn’t still holding onto me, now grinning like the ass he is at my reaction. Everything I knew about the dreaded L word that’s caused me so much confusion, and such high walls over time is washed away leaving such a clean plain. ‘Its deeply personal. A connection between two people that cannot be replicated by anything’… ‘It can be whatever we want it to be’… No ones ever explained it to me like that before, and it’s never occurred to me on its own. Society never gave me a chance.

“Sounds a bit more appealing that way, doesn’t it?” He straightens back up to his full, staggering height and takes one hand off of me, the other creeping to my neck. Where he can for sure feel my pulse beating hard and fast.

“My mind is blown.”

“Yep. Told you. Biggest piece of hooey and bullshit that societies ever crapped out.”

A scoffing grin escapes me. ‘Hooey’. Who says hooey? I love that he does, it sounds good coming from him.

…

Love?

I love that… he… I love that…

…

Still feels weird. But I’m glad I can at least think the word. And, it feels good, too. Like something’s broken inside me, in a good way though. Disturbing my hair with a 4 fingered run through, I straighten up and casually look up and over at his face. I grin, causing to slowly smirk back. “I’m… not quite sure what to say right here and I don’t think you do either- “

“-Well, I could come up with something. But not something to conclude this particular conversation, - “

“But I have very deep feelings. Wanna go be healthy outlet for me somewhere private?”

His killer smirk only grows. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

“Deal.”

[theworldsoul]

Okay so basically... lets talk.

I should've seen this coming. I should've known that after such a long period of happiness, something would give.

I went to pick up my glasses from the dinner table today, because that's where I left them. When I put them on... they wouldnt stay on. I checked and they were missing the two plastic parts that hold the glasses up and still on my nose.

I check the table for them, and I dont find them. Then I ask, like hey, did any of yall touch my glasses? Both the plastic things are missing. My dad IMMEDIATELY assumes that I took them off ON PURPOSE. For some reason. And I tell him no, i didnt touch them, all I remember is picking them up from the table and seeing the plastic bits missing.

Then I spend like an hour telling them no, I didnt break my own glasses, I FOUND them that way. And my dad is like mocking me, going "u always say 'I didnt do it!!!' Like you never do anything huh? I guess you're just perfect." And I'm like... BUT I ACTUALY DIDNT DO IT!!!!???!? and hes like "you never take responsibility for anything, blah blah, you're so fucking stupid, you act like a four year old, stop fucking crying, how dare you ask us if we know what happened, why are you trying to blame us, you obviously did it on purpose and now you're acting all surprised.." and I'm just sitting there. Taking it. Thinking to myself... wow. They automatically assumed the worst in me. And THIS SORT OF THING HAPPENS OFTEN!!! I get blamed for shit I didnt do all the fuckign time.

So I'm just. Crying. Because theres a certain amount of verbal abuse i can take and it's not very much. I'm being interrogated. And its distressing, because I cant PROVE that I didnt do it on.purpose, because i GENUINELY DONT REMEBER WHAT HAPPENED!!! so they just get to assume that i broke my own glasses.

Why would my dad jump to that conclusion so quickly? Simple answer: he literally hates me. He holds back, I know, but hes done this before and he'll do it again, hes shown and said what he REALLY THINKS and he'll say it again and do it again and again and again because his mask is slipping. I dont know what I did to make him hate me but he does. That's just how it is. I can't change that. Man, my parents behave like children.

Anwyays so I'm just very upset, in distress, crying really hard, trying not to say too much so I dont make them angrier but also always telling the truth, which is that I DIDN'T DO IT AND I DONT REMEBER ANYTHING HAPPENEING TO THE GLASSES!!

He asks me, who did it then? I say I dont know but it wasnt me. He said who then, if not you. I said I dont know. He didnt believe me!!!

I hate when I tell the truth and people dont believe it. Like... this is the truth. I have nothing more to offer you. Take what little I give, cos it's my fucking blood.

Anyways in the meantime my mom is checking, looking for the plastic bits. She finds them in my coat pocket.

I am proven innocent. At what cost? Well, now I'm shaking, curled up into a ball, crying, and in actual pain. My brain cant handle so much pain so it transfers it to physical pain. So there I am. A fucking kid. Who's been punished for somehting he didn't do. And theres the proof.

My dad fixed the glasses. Left me there on the couch, still trembling. Gave them to me in a case. Said I gotta be careful. I said thank you. Because, even if I'm upset, I gotta make sure other people dont get upset. He said sorry, but he said it in this huffy way that made it sound reluctant. Then he was like, I said sorry so stop crying.

He wanted a kiss on the cheek and I was gonna give him one because I dont want to seem like a dickhead, he DID apologize... and if you dont accept my dads apologies and move on and pretend that the word "sorry" fixes everything, he gets even more angry and i REALLY dont want to deal with him guilt ripping me over it. So I lean in for a little kiss and... I cant. I cant do it. My face crinkles up all ugly and I start crying hysterically every time I get close. I try a few times but I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of like... oh god. I felt so hurt. Like a scared little rabbit. Oh shit, I was fucking scared. I couldnt do it. It made me feel disgusted.

I said, later I'll do it.

I dont know why he thinks he can hurt me so bad and make me cry, then give some shitty apology and expect me to change my mood entirely and go back to being all happy. That's not how it works. If you hurt someone, they stay hurt. Your shitty little word, "sorry", doesnt make me feel any better and doesnt fix any of the damage.... but I have to pretend like it does because if I dont you get mad, and you say I'm mean for not accepting the apology,,,

Later on, he did come for a kiss again. I was in my room, pretending to be busy so he would ignore me but he didnt. This time, I didnt kiss him but I allowed him to kiss me. I just... I couldnt kiss him. I was holding back tears, and i knew if i tried to kiss him i would start crying all over again and make him upset or angry. So I just sorta... let him kiss me on my forehead. Then I went to the bathroom fast as I could, acting like I had to brush my teeth.

I locked the door, sank to my knees, and cried. Hard.

I just wish that I had a dad who loved me, or who knew how to love me... or who I knew loved me, a dad who knew what he was doing, so I didnt have to debate if he loved me or not in my head.

God. I feel so small. Like I literally feel like a little kid right now. Fucking hell. Looks like tonight I'll be indulging in my delusions, playing pretend.

It's sad that my parents fuck me up, but its sadder that afterwards I dont have anyone to comfort me and help heal me.... only myself and whoever I bring to life in my imagination.

Sometimes when I get overly upset, when I'm pushed to the edge like this, I begin to feel... a lot younger? Like shockingly younger. I'm not even the same dude anymore, I'm a fucking five year old all of a sudden. Which makes the situation even more scary and painful.

Just imagine like, a hurt scared little kid with no one to help him. He's tryna pick himself off the ground and hes telling himself "shhhhh... it'll be okay" that's me. That's literally me and it makes me feel so fucking BAD but its true.

I've been breaking down. Earlier in the day I had trouble on a quiz because I didn't know the definition of a word in a poem and I couldnt answer the question (does character A like character B?) And when I asked they said they couldnt tell me which was bullshit but whatever. Uhm so I got upset. Like, scarily upset. I gave up, wrote that i didnt want to do the question on the paper, guessed at half the answers, crumpled it up and threw it to the ground. Then I just... spaced out for the rest of class because I was STILL upset and fuck them.

At one point I left to go cry in the bathroom, but when i went in there, all the stalls were taken and there was a huge group of guys in there, like maybe ten people in there total, so I ran back out and was like fuck now what. Now I wait. I waited and nobody came out. I double checked and they were sitll there and I ran out again. I dashed to another bathroom down the hall hoping it was empty. I was blasting metal in my ears to try and drown out the FEELINGS, I hate feeling things. Got into a stall, slammed the door, started CRYING, sobbing, talking to myself, all of this with metal music blaring out of my headphones. I composed myself. When I went out of the stall I checked my eyeliner and it was... well, you could TELL I cried. I didnt bother with it tho, i just ran out of there.

Ugh and when I got back I kept doing the stim that usually evolves into literally hitting myself, so that was. Bad. At least this time I refrained from beating the shit outta my own left arm.

God.. I hope everyone who hurts me, everyone who ever fucking hurt me, feels GUILTY as all hell. I hope whatever being made me FEEL all these emotions so hard so strong so fast, ROTS. because nobody deserves to feel so intensely upset that they resort to the worst ways of coping. No one.

I'm just glad I didnt relapse. That's a positive.

[hwangskz]

excuse me, do you have a boyfriend? | bad boy! felix

so i was lurking on tumblr at 5am a few days ago and got inspired for this by @chenle 's anon lmao thank u i guess skjshd

• "are you jamaican? 'cause jamaican me fall for you ;)" - you know who

• u read another note from the same guy who's been following u around for quite a few weeks now

• and as u slam ur locker shut (trying to look cool (⌐■_■))

• but then

• "hello there"

• "JSHSBA AAAAAA-"

• "OH MY GOD IM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE U !!!! IT'S JUST ME !!!!! FELIX !!!!!"

• there goes ur cool aura o(╥﹏╥)o

• "from the next time, TELL ME UR THERE BEFORE U FUCKIN ATTACK BITCH"

• "i ???? just spoke ????"

• "ur voice is enough to give me shivers shut up-"

• and he nears ur face and just wriggles his eyebrows up and down causing u to roll ur eyes

• "shut up i didn't mean that in the other way-"

• "yeah, um, sure"

• u could only roll ur eyes at him at this point

• "also im not jamaican?? im korean, dude" - you, as u look at felix with confusion

• "JSHSB NO I KNOW!!!! but ur still making me fall for u ;))" - felix, as he throws a wink at u in the end, and u pretend to gag on it which makes him cutely laugh

• u never really understood felix's deal w you, u know????

• like, yeah u remember bumping into a guy after u had joined ur school for about a month and u were late for ur maths class

• and honestly u would have loved to help him pick up whatever papers that fell down (that belonged to him) but NUH UH BITCH UR NOT STAYING 15 MINS AFTER CLASS AGAIN JUST TO CATCH UP ON WHAT U MISSED

• u had once learned that if something's gone, then that's just how it is gonna be. gone.

• so who are u to change laws HUH

• but while u were rushing this boy just???? stops u????

• "excuse me, do you have a boyfriend?"

• first thought : what... the fuck

• second thought : WHAT THE FUCK DID THIS RANDOM STRANGER JUST ASK

• that may have sounded agressive but u WERE FUCKING BLANK

• "w-wait, what?"

• "a-ah, sorry that must've been too direct... i'm lee felix! and i think ur cute"

• bro

• how the FUCK are u straightforward

• "because ur cuteness made :D"

• u dont even know HOW but felix just ended up sticking his nose in ur business with u after that

• his friends never minded??? tho???

• "hey chan i hope u don't feel weird when felix stays with me for too long,,,"

• "?????? y/n!!! i would never oml!!! it's completely fine! u can have 'lix! romantically too, teehee"

• looking at it from felix's side,

• he was carrying the extra sheets back to his science class when he bumped into u

• he obv knew u were a girl because of ur voice when u were talking to urself about getting late

• so u know how in movies and shows and books, they all say that u'll meet the loyl after bumping into them and then u both will gather the papers together and all that stuff

• well that did happen

• ...except that u just ran away without a sorry or anything???

• so felix just sat there in silence for about 3 seconds before dashing to u and, well, asking if u have a boyfriend

• to be honest, this wasn't really the first time he's seen u, u know

• yall have the same english class and he sits right behind u

• he's admired u from behind before

• but probably his Bad Bitch Side decided to show up that day because this boy is actually just a softie behind that bad boy personality jshsjshs

• but seeing u react like that, with ur cheeks all flushed he just :((( GOD he fell in love w u more

• back to the present

• now u know how i mentioned that yall have the same english class???

• well, felix knows ur existence in that class

• however,,,u cant say the same about his tho

• so when u walk into ur class today ur ??? surprised???? when u see felix sitting in ur seat????

• "????? are u stalking me????"

• felix chuckles as he moves aside to make space for u to sit down, which u do

• "can't believe u didn't know we share a class together"

• ":OOOO WE DO?"

• the thing is that u just looked so focused on the topics that felix just didn't have enough heart to break ur concentration from it, yk

• "that's one really stupid excuse"

• "y/N-"

• however, that day in class, u couldn't help but look at felix

• how his eyes sparkled when he gave the right answer and everyone awed at his english skills

• how he showed u his new pencil pouch that had his favorite cartoon character drawn on it and cutely laughed again

• how he kept quoting vines to u and then just laughed heartily again

• are u taking a liking towards felix?

• maybe it had been a really long time since u had been zoned out because the next thing u know felix is shaking u by ur shoulders (very slightly, cautiously, in order to not hurt u accidentally)

• "y/n? hey? u there?"

• u blink ur eyes several times as u look around the class, trying to get a better view, at what looked like ur classmates leaving for their home

• u pack up ur stuff and ur ready to go before felix tugs on ur hoodie sleeve

• jesus CHRIST who taught him to be this cute

• "do u wanna walk home, maybe..?"

• u would have rejected the offer

• "sure"

• maybe that answer was just lying on the tip of ur tongue

• maybe u are taking a liking towards felix

• so yall are on ur way to ur home, in silence

• not that it was awkward

• it felt nice like this

• it felt nice to be with him, like this.

• "hey y/n?"

• "hm?"

• he looks over at u, making sure u know he's sincere about whatever he's gonna say next

• "aren't u tired of me?"

• ??????

• "what do u mean 'tired' of you?"

• "i mean, i'm always lurking around u. never with my friends. i'm always trying to talk to u, disturb u. how have u not gotten rid of me yet?"

• u think for a moment

• think about the time when u first met him

• well obviously u were disturbed

• but u didn't mind it tho

• and unlike other times when u felt lonely, he actually made it feel like someone really had ur back

• even if he kept pushing through ur shell

• actually

• ur pretty fucking glad he did

• "because i like being with you."

• and FELIX JUST SKBSBS STOPS WALKING AND GOES ??????

• "??????? DONT U HATE ME THO"

• "never said that." - you, as u turn around trying to open ur door

• and there he goes again, mouth hanging open and his heart beating at full speed once again because of u

• “wh- in what SENSE DO U LIKE BEING WITH ME-”

• “i’ll leave it to ur imagination”

• and like that, u just turned around and closed the door to ur house, leaving a burning red felix behind

• next day when u reached ur school, u went to ur locker, yk, waiting for the day to go on like a normal one

• except... it wasn’t

• felix stood in front of ur locker, a bright smile on his face and a bag of chocolates in his hand

• “y/n!!!!!! good morning!!!!! ヾ(＠⌒▽⌒＠)ﾉ !!!!”

• “felix what are u doing in front of my lo-”

• he didn’t even let u finish before he shoved the chocolates in ur face

• “i brought something for u!!!”

• and like this, the entire day, felix was acting ESPECIALLY clingy to u

• u didn’t mind it tho

• but before school ended today

• “y/n! wait for me!”

• u look up to see a familiar face

• namely. hwang hyunjin

• running towards u

• “hey! it’s been a while, huh” - you, as u stand facing him now

• he pulls his bag over and gives u a hug, slightly startling u

• “yeah... also, y/n? can i, uh, ask u something..?”

• u nodded slightly, unsure of what he’s gonna say next

• “are u seeing someone?”

• u go silent for a moment

• ur first thought : felix

• but then again, u think, ‘does he even like me for real..?’, so so so many thoughts all about felix are going on in ur head

• so hyunjin continues

• “if not, would u like to go somewhere tomorrow-”

• “she didn’t answer u, did she? then why don’t u take a hint, and leave?”

• u look towards ur right to see the person who had occupied ur mind

• YALL ALREADY K N O W THIS IS LEE FELIX

• “felix you don’t need to-”

• “is s/he/they your girl/boyfriend/partner?”

• this was just a question from hyunjin, so why did make you stop talking?

• why did it do something to your heart?

• “yes.”

• and with that, felix takes ur hand in his and walks away from the school building, but not very far as u pull away from his grip

• “felix? why would you say something that isn’t true-”

• “because i want it to be!”

• you can’t even form words now at this point honestly

• WHAT IS A WORD Y/N L/N DOESNT WHAT A WORD IS

• felix continues

• “i want it to be true, y/n! from day one, when i first met you in class, till today, i only thought of being with you. i even confessed to you, so so so many times, and you said no. well, that’s fine. but what isn’t fine is that.. you never believed me. you never believed the love i had for you. why? is this really too much to ask for? can’t you ever just believe me?”

• u have no clue what made u do this

• but you stepped closer and said

• “i didn’t answer you, right? didn’t you say just a few seconds before that if the person doesn’t answer, the other should take the hint and... leave?”

• u had never seen felix’s eyes tear up like that

• not even that time when he got a huge bruise on his hand because he tried to save u from that ball in the baseball game that had headed towards u

• and it makes something in u ache

• and ur about to take back ur words when

• “if this makes u better, then that’s that, i guess. goodbye, y/n.”

• and like all cliche films u try to pull him back, but guess he’s just really fast. because now? u only see an empty road

• and guess he really meant that goodbye, because now, u can’t even find him

• u even went to chan if he had seen felix

• so many times of the day, but

• “sorry, y/n. i haven’t seen him yet :(”

• was all that u got as an answer from him

• honestly? at this point, u didn’t even know if u liked felix or not

• “from the looks of u, maybe yeah u do.”

• u look up to see chan smiling and taking his seat beside u

• “look, y/n, i might be a very ignorant person sometimes, but i couldn’t ignore the look of sadness on felix’s face that day. we’ve known each other for quite a long time now, you know? but this is the first time i had ever seen him so in love with someone. 

• being the popular kid of the school, he still was very polite to people. i still remember when he told he felt something for a girl in his class. i just chuckled thinking it might just be a small crush.... but it wasn’t. it isn’t just a small crush for him now, y/n.”

• ur heart just.. physically hurts alot at this point

• “do u know where i can possibly find him?”

• “i’m not really sure, but u can try to look for him in the practice room. he would always be there when he’s down.”

• maybe there’s still a chance left

• “will he be there right now?”

• once chan answers u, u dash ur way to the practice room, not caring about the students who turned back to scowl at u

• u open the door

• and u might just cry

• because there he was, sitting in front of the mirror, legs crossed, hands tangled in his hair and head down

• “felix!”

• before this boy even gets the chance to answer u, u hug him ever so tightly, trying to ignore that he had slightly flinched at ur touch

• “y/n..?”

• u pull away, hands still wrapped around his waist, and speak out the words that felix had been longing to hear

• “i think i like- no wait. i like you ALOT BITCH”

• felix blinked twice before chuckling lightly and pulling u into a kiss

• and once, u felt so warm

• u sure were shocked at first, but when u kissed him back, felix smiled against ur lips

• when both of u pulled away, ur cheeks burning red

• and so were felix’s cheeks

• he looked down and spoke as he played with his hands, turning the ring around his finger several times

• “i thought u would never come..”

• “says the one who ran away.”

• “because YOU told me to leave!”

• it’s ur turn to look down now, because, damn he was right

• “i just- i’m sorry. i don’t even think i have an excuse for that, except that i couldn’t turn down hyunjin properly.”

• felix sighs and falls into ur arms again

• “did u know i was gonna confess to u that day?”

• “u confess to me everyday tho”

• “!!!! no i mean a serious confession. i was really gonna tell u, sincerely, this time. did chan hyung tell u?”

• u pull away and look at him with a confused expression on ur face

• “??????no????? in fact, he told me that u ‘might’ be here today”

• felix sighs out of relief

• “im glad he kept his promise and didn’t tell u beforehand that day. gotta get him a treat then.”

• “?????????bitch?????? IM COMING TOO”

• he laughs and holds u by ur shoulders as he speaks

• “obviously u’re coming. u’re my woman now, after all ;))))))”

• “oh no what have i got myself into”

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 71a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention.

-x-

Ever since Emily enrolled in that art and crafts workshop during the holidays, Charlie and Duffy had begun to see a different side to their eldest daughter. Whilst she was still very shy and quiet, she seemed to become a little louder and found herself fighting for the spotlight with her sisters. Her confidence had also grown, the more time she spent doing the thing she loved most. The classes on a Saturday were the best thing ever and Emily’s new found confidence was beautiful to see.

It was the May half term and the family was preparing to attend the first exhibition that Emily was taking part in.

She was so excited, she was giddy. She kept bouncing around the place.

All the kids were ready and running around downstairs but Duffy was still in their bedroom.

“Babe. Are you ready?” Charlie called up the stairs.

"No." Came her frustrated sounding reply.

He came upstairs, “What’s wrong?” He asked.

"The skirt I was planning to wear won't zip up." She sighed.

“Can I try and help?”

"You can give it a go but I'm not optimistic."

Charlie helped her with the zip to her skirt. He'd almost got it done up when she let out a squeal. “What’s wrong?” He asked, concerned he’d pinched her or something.

"Its too tight." She complained.

“Sorry.” He paused, “Is there anything else you can wear?”

She shrugged. She sighed as she walked over to their wardrobe and began flicking through the clothes in there.

“Do you have any dresses you could wear?”

"How about this one?" She held up a navy coloured dress.

“Ooh I like that dress.”

She let out a sigh as she unzipped the skirt, letting it drop to the floor. She then pulled off her tshirt and slipped the dress over her head. She then turned around. "What do you think? Will I do?" She chewed at her bottom lip.

“You’re beautiful.” He smiled, “You look beautiful.”

"Not fat?"

“No darling, not fat.” It really didn’t make her look fat. Enhanced her curves but didn’t make her look fat.

"You're sure?" She asked, running her hands over the fabric.

“Look in the mirror, gorgeous.”

She moved to stand in front of the mirror.

“You look gorgeous.” He reassured.

She smiled softly as she rubbed her hand on her stomach. "We're going to have to tell them soon aren't we?"

“I don’t think we can hide it for much longer, babe.”

"I think you're right. I swear Jake is already giving me funny looks."

“In what way?”

“Daddy! Mummy!” It was Emily who was stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"Like he wants to say something but he's been told not to upset me." She replied, giving Charlie a suspicious look as she headed towards the stairs. "Just coming princess."

“I haven’t been saying anything.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

She stopped at the top of the stairs and turned back towards him, her arms crossed. "Charlie..." Her tone was suspiciously.

“What?”

"Have you said something?"

“No.” He smiled.

"I'm not sure I believe you..."

“How about we tell the children later?”

"Who knows?" She gasped.

“Who knows about what?”

"Me being..." She stopped abruptly as she spotted Emily standing at the bottom of the stairs. She unfolded her arms and nervously smoothed out her dress as she made her way downstairs.

He followed her. “We’ll talk later?”

“Mama we be late.” Emily replied with a pout.

"OK." She sighed. "We're just coming. Has everyone got their shoes?"

“Yep.”

"Except you mum." Jake pointed out.

Duffy rolled her eyes. "I'm just getting mine."

“Are we all ready?” Charlie asked.

"Yes."

Luckily they arrived at the gallery with a few minutes to spare.

"So where is your work princess?" Duffy asked her eldest daughter.

Emily practically dragged her mum to her piece of art.

"Oh it's amazing!" Duffy smiled.

It was full of bright colours. It was a landscape picture of some buildings and the drawings looked like they’d been done by someone a lot older than she was. “You did this, princess?” Charlie asked Emily.

"Yeh. Took ages!" She replied dramatically.

Duffy couldn't help but giggle at how similar Emily sounded to Tilly when she spoke like that.

She was certainly starting to tell Tilly and Lottie who was boss. Charlie chuckled, thinking exactly the same as Duffy and tapped Emily’s nose. “Well, aren’t you a very clever girl.”

"There's some other small bits but that's the main one." Emily smiled.

"What's that?" Lottie asked pointing at some figures.

“Those people? They’re us!” Emily replied.

"Really?" Tilly broke in. "Which one's me?"

"Urgh, art is boring." Louis complained.

“This one.” Emily replied and pointed to one of the figures.

“Louis!” Charlie said.

"That's so cool, it looks like me! Can I keep it?" Tilly babbled excitedly.

"Is that one me?" Lottie asked, pointing the the figure next to the one of Tilly.

“It is.” Emily nodded, “And this is mama, daddy, Louis, Peter and Jake and the tiny blob is Oli.”

"These are really good Emily." Duffy smiled, squeezing her daughter's shoulder.

"I'm gunna make some more figures of the family soon." Emily replied cryptically.

“Why more figures Princess?” Charlie asked.

"I haven't finished making everyone. I need to make gran and Sarah and..." Her voice trailed off awkwardly.

Charlie picked her up and carried Emily over away from everyone. “And who else?” He stroked her cheek.

"Where are daddy and Emmy going?" Tilly asked.

"I'm not sure." Duffy replied nervously.

"Its a secret." Emily whispered, looking over at her mum.

“Emily, what’ve you heard?” He asked, meeting his daughters gaze.

"You and mama were talking earlier..."

“What did you hear?”

"Mama said she was fat. I haven't told the others I promise!" Emily replied, obviously agitated.

The twins had lost interest in their sister, their attention grabbed by a painting of a cat. "We should get a cat! Can we have a cat?"

“Hey, Hey.” Charlie reassured and kissed Emily's forehead. “It’s ok. It’s ok.” He reassured.

“A cat? Why would you want a cat?” Duffy asked the twins.

"Or a dog?" Lottie mused.

"No! Cats are better!" Tilly retorted.

They continued to argue amongst themselves as Duffy came over to Charlie and Emily. "Everything OK?"

Louis was sat bored in the corner. Peter and Jake were chatting to Sarah who had just arrived.

“We’re ok, aren’t we Emily?” He smiled at his daughter. He kissed her nose and forehead again.

"Yeh. Fine." Emily replied, painting on the fake smile so reminiscent of her mother. "Can I go look at my friends' paintings?"

Charlie put her down on the floor, “Of course you can. Will you show mummy and daddy too?”

"Yeh." Emily smiled as she wandered back to the exhibits.

Duffy placed her hand on Charlie's shoulder to stall him from following. "What did she say?" She asked.

“She knows you're pregnant.” He whispered.

"What? How?"

“She says she heard us talking but it’s a secret.” He smiled sadly, “We should tell them tonight.”

"I'm not sure I'm ready to tell them. I know that sounds silly."

“But we cant keep pretending it’s not happening either.”

"We could try." She shrugged.

“They’re already going to feel... sad... that we didn’t tell them straight away. Never mind, if we keep lying to them.”

"Its not lying to them as such..." Duffy mumbled weakly. "I was hoping to wait another couple of months before telling them."

“How far are we know?” He asked. “Three months-ish?”

"Fourteen weeks." She sighed.

“We do need to tell them soon. So we can deal with their thoughts and feelings over having a new sibling.”

"I can tell you what their thoughts will be. They'll be angry and upset." She sighed. "I guess it was a pipe dream thinking that we could keep it a secret til after I hit twenty weeks."

“Yes they will be angry and upset. They’ll also be terrified.”

"Yeh. I'm not sure I can face their anger."

“Me either. But we have to at some point.”

"And tonight's the night?"

He nodded. “Yes.”

"OK. It'll be interesting to see if the twins still want a pet after they find out." She chuckled darkly.

“Probably.” He smiled sadly.

Duffy shook her head laughing as she wandered off to look at some more of the exhibits.

The twins continued to dash about between the pictures, captivated by the bright colours. Jake tried his best to cheer Louis up who had a face like a smacked arse. Peter was trying to pay attention to what Sarah was saying but his gaze kept drifting to his mum. Something was going on, he could tell!

“You keep watching your mum? What’s the matter?” Sarah asked.

"I'm not sure. Does she seem different to you?"

Sarah shrugged, “A bit. Why?”

"In what way? Be honest."

“Happier, curvier.” Sarah shrugged, “Why?” She touched Peter’s arm, “Are you worried about her?”

"Yeh, something just doesn't feel right. Dad was very quick to take Emily away. Like she knew something she shouldn't."

“Oh my God Peter, what if your mum’s pregnant?” Sarah whispered.

"What?! Oh you have got to be kidding me!" His voice was louder than he'd intended, attracting the attention of those around him.

“Ssh, Peter!”

Duffy swallowed nervously at the look her eldest son was giving her.

“Peter?” Sarah said quietly as she moved him away from the groups.

"This cannot be happening again! Seriously! What are they playing at?!"

[maiverie]

In response to these (just in case ur confuzzled lol,, I didn't wanna make a longgg string of replies under one post)

BUT YESSS!!! HEESEUNG IS SO??#&@&&#?? GOD HE IS SO GORGEOUS😭😭😭WHEN I SAW THE PICTURE I CHANGED MY LAYOUT IMMEDIATELY IT HAD TO BE DONE😍

And nursing?? Omg that's so hot of you mai👁️👄👁️ And lol it IS sort of surprising but in a good way!! You just seem so chaotic and fun but you also seem really kind so I think you'll make a good nurse!! Tbh I would've gone into nursing but personality wise I'm just not built for it. I think I'm too sensitive for that line of work :')

And yeah!! Plz I'm genz but I didn't know what the hell was going on with smaus when I first got on here💀 I knew they did something sort of like it on Twitter but like I didn't know they were a THING thing until I came here. BUT LOL LOOK AT ME NOW THO😭😭😭😭BUSY WITH ONE AS WE SPEAK!! Tbh they're very fun to read but also a LOT of work to make!! like a LOT,, so I commend everyone who has ever made or worked on one👏

But also,, written fics😩 we barely have any but lemme tell you we came a long way because when I first came here I could barely find any. most of the written works were headcannons and imagines,, but I see lots of writers are branching out and doing written fics and one shots which is very cool of them🤩🤩🤩 smaus are in their popular era so I think a lot of writers are fascinated with trying to make one ( me included) but I feel genuinely bad sometimes because there are many writers on here writing full length fics and barely getting engagement because people aren't that interested in reading long pieces. I hope it doesnt discourage them tho,, even tho they might feel that way. Also, with tumblrs shitty algorithm. It's hard to gain exposure because people prefer to like rather than reblog. And like,, if you don't get a lot of notes within say, they first day or two or very hard for people to find them and read them unless others reblog it onto their dash

(sorry for typos💀)

HI TAYYYY SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY 😭 BEEN SO BUSY W THE EXAM PREP AND ALL <3 hope u've been well tho and omfg its the weekend soon YESSS THANK GODD

HI TAYYYY SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY 😭 BEEN SO BUSY W THE EXAM PREP AND ALL <3 hope u've been well tho and omfg its the weekend soon YESSS THANK GODD eTS HORRIBLE BAHAHHA jkjk im just a lazy bitch ;-; but omg thank u so much?! and heh id love to hear what kind of career youre hoping to get into w ur degree and all?! TELL ME EVERYTHINGGG YES EXACTLYYYYY SAME??? AND YUS OMG i heard about it first becoming a thing after a bts smau became rlly popular on twt or smth...??? but i rlly did not know how much of an impact they had here on engene tumblr 😳 ITS WILDDD AND YES TAY PLS I WOULD LOVE TO READ UR SMAU AND ME TOO I WANNA WRITE ONE SO BAD RN 😩 and frfr i know they look easy but i bet im gna regret it the moment i start writing one KJSDFJDS WRITTEN FICS ARE SOO GOODDD 😭 coming FROM A PERSON WHO CAN'T VISUALISE FOR SHIT,,,, I LOVE WRITTEN FICS?? LIKE... U CAN LITERALLY PLAY W THE WORDS AND W METAPHORS AND IMAGERY AND EVERYTHING U LTRLY CANT GET THIS FROM SMAUS!!! GOD TIER!!! ONLY HOT PEOPLE READ WRITTEN FICS!!! JK im just sad cos i feel like written fics r slowly dying and im sad ;-; BUT YES EXACTLYYY it makes me kinda sad to think that too even tho i rlly love reading smaus? i totally understand the appeal bc its just sm easier/quicker to read plus THEYRE LITERALLY SO FUNNY I CANT SKDKS but yeah even as a written fic writer myself every now and then i'll wonder if anyone is even gna be interested in stuff in the future ;-;

YESSS TUMBLR'S ALGORITHM TOO 😩 icb they don't account for likes...??? sounds so dumb to me 😭

PLS NAUR ICB U DEAL W ME TEXTING COS WE ALL BEEN KNEW THAT IM LEGIT HTE WORST AT TEXTING PROPERLY,,,,, TOO CHAOTIC HELP

[looselucy]

November

I had never been good at goodbyes. The first goodbye I really remember, was when our pet dog Timmy died, and I forced my mum and dad to give him a funeral, and I probably cried for about a week. Another stand out goodbye in the list of many, was my brother moving to uni, and that was very reasonable for me to be a mess of tears and tantrums, because I hadn’t seen him since he left. One of my most recent goodbyes, was when I moved to university. I was only a few hours away from my parents and our new dog, Timmy-Two, but I absolutely had a breakdown when they dropped me off there. To be honest, they were no better, which was predictable behaviour from Phil and Lisa, always emotional, especially when it came to their darling daughter. The whole thing was atrocious when they left, watery eyes and inaudible sentences and desperate hugs and it was so pathetic I nearly vomit even thinking back to it. And then this one. This goodbye, was just as shit as the rest.

“I promise I’ll come visit!” Grace insisted. I sobbed as I hugged her, not wanting to look at that stupid pink suitcase she had packed behind her, wanting to kick it over or pull all her clothes out and throw them everywhere just to keep her with me a bit longer. “Or,” I sobbed uneasily. “You could just stay!” “Sorry, Pippa, but the uni life is just not for me.” I just kept sobbing, but sobbing this time seemed more plausible than when my parents left, because there was no guarantee she would come back. She promised me she would, but I knew that wasn’t enough. It’s strange, being at uni. Friendships develop so quickly it’s hard to even keep track of how close you all get. And with Grace being in the room next door to mine on our floor, from moving in on September 15th, to November 1st, it was safe to say she was my best friend. I was besotted with her, and I really didn’t want her to leave. She hated her course though, and she dropped out before it was too late, before she was too committed. Not even the end of the first term in our first year, and she was leaving. I was really going to miss her. “Alright, alright!” Zayn barked from beside me. “You’ve been hugging her for about ten minutes now, you’re being selfish, Pip! Let me have a go.” Tears kept rolling down my face as I gave her up for a moment, the rest of the gang moving in to give her a goodbye hug. There was me, Grace (before she selfishly decided to leave) Zayn, Mike, Tally, and Ringo. (I had still to learn Ringo’s real name, she was a quiet one, and a Beatles fan, I think.) Everyone was saying their goodbyes, but no one was quite as emotional as I was about her leaving. They all gave her their hugs and farewells. “You best stay in touch!” Tally instructed. “I will! I promise! God, you’re all so dramatic.” Everyone kind of laughed except me. I was not amused. Zayn moved and gave her a kiss on the head before I took over again, hugging her so tightly it was like I knew for a fact I would never see her ever again. Like I said, I’ve never been good at goodbyes. “You’re an emotional wreck.” She giggled once everyone else had rekindled back in the kitchen, giving us our space. “How many times do I need to promise?” “But I’ll miss living with you.” I tried to calm down. “I love you being here.” “I’ll be back before you know it.” “You better be!” “I’m gunna miss my train...” She groaned. “Fine.” I shot, pulling away from her and wiping away my tears. “Go. Leave me here alone to die.” She backed out of the door, grabbing her suitcase and looking at me whilst giggling. She did always say that she liked how I got emotional about little things, like songs and films and TV shows. But I had calmed a little, finally. I stood in the doorway giving her the weakest smile I could summon. “Gunna miss you, Girl.” She smiled. “You too. Get home safe, okay?” I sniffled. She nodded, and I knew she was emotional too, but she wasn’t the crying type like I was, so the goodbye was lacking tears on her part. I think I cried enough for the both of us. We said goodbye a final couple of times, and by the time she was in the elevator going down to the bottom floor I was relatively calm, wiping away my final few tears. I slumped past our bedrooms as I walked down the corridor, three doors on each side, making my way to the kitchen and living room area of our halls, where they all sat giving me sad head tilts, knowing how close we were, how much I would miss her. I stuck my middle finger up to the lot of them, making them laugh awkwardly, as Ringo quietly went back into her room. Defeated, I flopped down on the sofa and huffed out my sorrow as Zayn tucked me under his arm, kissing my forehead once before we nestled comfortably together. “I can’t believe she’s actually gone.” Mike sighed. “Just like... ‘cause she mentioned it on day one and then stuck around... I kinda thought she was all talk.” That’s what we had all been hoping, because Grace was one of those people who could walk in a room and make everyone’s day a little bit brighter; she could cheer up anyone just by smiling or telling a small joke. She was incredible. “You’re just gutted you didn’t get a chance to shag her.” Zayn chuckled. “Mate, I’m gutted with my sex life full stop! Not just when it comes to her! She was more wife material anyway, I’ll hunt her down in a few years.” I tried to laugh but I really wasn’t in the mood, I just kept staring at the tele as Zayn traced comforting circles on the top of my arm with two fingers, staring at the TV too. We had gotten lucky with our flat, we were in one of the better-quality student accommodations, so everything was modern and nice. The only downfall really was the communal shower rooms, which for some odd reason were placed past the living room and kitchen, so everyone got a good sight of you dashing through in a towel and dripping on the floor whilst they tried to watch TV. But our rooms were lovely, the whole thing was pretty lovely, so we knew it would only be a short amount of time before a student on a waiting list would take Graces now empty room. “How long you gunna be sad for, Pippa?” Tally asked me as she balanced her plate full of pasta on her knees, given we had no table. “Dunno. Could be years. Maybe I’ll never get over it.” “Well you’re gunna have to ‘cause we’re definitely going out tonight!” Mike tried. “I can’t.” I shrugged. “I’m in at nine.” “Pussy!” “Fuck off, Mike!” I giggled, throwing the nearest cushion at him. “Reyt!” He chirped, moving back to the hall. “It’s wank o’clock. See you all soon!” Zayn was in stitches as Mike strolled out of the area and into his room, Tally was trying her best not to laugh but I could see she was failing miserably. “I never knew living with lads would be such a cliché!” I groaned through a stifled laugh. “You lived with your brother, didn’t you?” Tally giggled. “Yeah, but he never announced when he was going for a wank, thankfully.” That just made Zayn laugh even more, he was absolutely creasing next to me, having to move his arm from around me and cover his face. I started to think how even without Grace, I would be fine, because that lot meant the world to me. I shook my head and stood myself up, walking over to my food cabinet and grabbing out a packet of crisps, standing and leaning rather than sitting back down with Zayn, who was still chuckling away to himself. “You sure you can’t come out tonight?” Tally sulked, looking over her shoulder to me. “I really shouldn’t.” I huffed. “You haven’t missed a lecture in like... three weeks.” “To be fair, that is really good.” And it was. The first year of uni seemed to be a complete write-off, and my brother had said exactly the same thing. You could pretty much take the piss in your first year, and still pass. He told me that second year was a little bit harder but you could still go out most days of the week and miss a fair few lectures. However, in his last year, he sounded like he was going to have a mental breakdown he was working so hard. So in my head, I still pretty much had two years of fun left. Missing one lecture, for the first time in almost a month, couldn’t be too bad. And I did need cheering up. Zayn stood himself up and moseyed over to me, hooking his arms around my waist and I put mine over his shoulders, both of us swaying in our hug. “C’mon, Pippa. We have to go out, the only way to deal with sadness is drinking.” “Sad, but true.” I agreed. “So,” He grinned, pulling away from me. “We going out?” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, but obviously I was smiling anyway, caving into the idea of going out and possibly missing a lecture. “Fine.” I breathed. “Let’s do it.” + + + We passed the shots I had bought down the line, Zayn banging his hand on the bar eagerly. It was me, Mike, Tally and Zayn. We had tried to convince Ringo to tag along with us, but she was having none of it, said she had too much work to do. We always tried with her though, and it’s not that we thought she didn’t like us, she was just so withdrawn. But there was nothing we could do other than try. The line of shots made their way down the group, each of us having three each; one red, one green, one purple. I had always been terrible at shots, so I had no idea why I bought them, especially three at a time. Seemed pretty stupid, but there we were. “Alright, on the count of three, we do red!” Zayn shouted, as though he was some kind of soldier ready for war. “We have five seconds before we move onto purple, and a maximum of ten seconds, before we go onto green. Are you with me?” “Shut up, Zayn.” Tally laughed. “I SAID ARE YOU WITH ME?” He shouted in her ear. If I had already taken my first shot I would have spat it out laughing, but thankfully I laughed without spitting the substance everywhere, having a minute to calm down before Zayn counted to three, and we did as we were instructed. I was doing alright until the third shot, whenn I felt like I was going to throw up all over the bar, but luckily, I didn’t. I counted to eight seconds out of my given ten before I finally did the last shot, feeling their affects so quickly, it almost felt like a waste of time that I wasn’t dancing. It took me a little bit longer than the rest to recover, they were already on their way to the centre of the dancefloor by the time I pushed away from the bar, stumbling a little as I did before regaining my balance and dancing over to them, a cheeky, somewhat tipsy, smile on my face. Another thing I loved about uni is that I had come across a group of people who were exactly the same as I was on a night out. None of us gave a shit, and our terrible team dancing was what made our nights so much fun. I’d say around half an hour of intense boogying passed before Zayn signalled that he wanted a cigarette, and he knew that it was likely I would join him after a drink, so I did. We wandered to the heated outside area, which was one of the good things about our favourite club, Thimble, though after many discussions we still couldn’t figure out why that was the name they had chosen for a club. Zayn handed me a roll-up, and placed one in his mouth, getting out a lighter and sparking mine for me before he sparked his own. Within seconds, out of nowhere, two arms grabbed Zayn from behind, right around his waist as the mystery man lifted him in the air, making a girly scream irrupt from him lips, which brought in a couple of eyes and a couple of laughs. As soon he was dropped, he turned around to find the culprit. “Fucking hell, Louis!” He gasped, slapping his palms against the boys cheeks. “I nearly shat me’self, you idiot!” “Alright, Lad!” The other one said as they started hugging. I think I had heard Zayn speak of this Louis before. He was on his art course with him, but what Zayn had apparently forgotten to tell me was that he was absolutely gorgeous. I stared at him as the two of them interacted, and I was a little entranced. He was all slicked back hair and black clothes, turtle neck, freshly shaved, striking eyes. He was beautiful. After a while Zayn turned back around to me, grinning like he didn’t see Louis every bloody day at his lectures. He was acting like he hadn’t seen him in years. Classic effect of alcohol. I gave Zayn a look, a look that said, if you don’t introduce me to this God of a man now I will kill you. “Oh shit.” He mumbled. “Umm, Pip this is Louis. Louis, this is Pippa.” He moved in and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I already knew he was charming too, which was frustrating. I couldn’t cope when boys were attractive but charming too, it was always too much to take in. “Nice to meet you.” He said as he pulled away, looking me up and down. “You live with Zayn, yeah?” “Right across from him.” I nervously replied. “Are you the one who cries a lot?” He smirked. I sucked in air through my teeth, cringing that of all the things Zayn could have said, that was what he had decided to pass on. “Umm...” I let out a breathy laugh. “I get emotional about things.” “Every time I watch E.T. I cry like a baby, don’t worry about it.” “To be fair,” Zayn chirped. “I cry at Finding Nemo.” ”No, fair shout man!” Louis looked deadly serious. “At the beginning-” “When his wife dies!” Zayn gawped. “And Nemo is the only baby left!” “It’s absolutely heart breaking.” “Heart breaking.” Louis repeated. It struck me quite quickly how similar Louis and Zayn were, and I knew why my flatmate had raved about his friendship with the blue-eyed boy. I shook my head at them, taking a drag of the cigarette Zayn had rolled me, my head spinning slightly, half of me ready for bed and the other half ready to carry on my terrible dancing. Behind myself and Zayn we heard someone shout Louis’ name. ”Gotta run.” He smirked again. “Nice to meet you, Pippa.” “You too!” I cooed, blushing as though he had complimented me. ”Zayn.” The two slapped their hands together before clasping their hands tights together. “See you tomorrow, bro.” “Later, man.” Louis bounced off to the lad who had shouted his name, yelling and cheerful and 100% attractive in every way ever possible. Jesus wept, I was actually impressed by him, I just wanted to eat him up on the spot and leave nothing for anyone else. As soon as I knew he was out of earshot, I slapped Zayn hard on the arm, hitting that stupid tiger tattoo, his arms completely on show thanks to the fact he cut the sleeves off his t-shirt. “Ouch!” He laughed. “What was that for?” “Why the fuck does your stupidly attractive mate only know me for the fact I cry?” “I don’t know! I’ve told him other stuff.” “Right. Like what?” “Like... how you throw up on hangovers sometimes.” “Brilliant, Zayn. Thank you.” I couldn’t stop smiling even though I was shaking my head. His apology to me was him wrapping one arm around me and pulling me to him, giving me a kiss on the forehead, still chuckling away to himself. He moved out, extending his little finger, waiting for my finger to link up with his. “Alright.” He laughed. “I pinky-promise, I will say better things about you in the future. I’ll make him think you’re a goddess.” “How exactly?” I giggled. “Umm... I’ll tell him about how Finn said you’re really good at giving head.” “Y’know what, don’t say shit, Zayn. Let’s just let him forget I exist.” That probably made him laugh ever harder, grabbing me by the shoulders as I turned around, both of us throwing our cigarettes on the floor and making our way back inside, ready to find the rest of the troops. Zayn steered me off towards the bar before we joined the team again, where he purchased me two more drinks, that completely tipped me over the edge. + + + I awoke on the floor in my room, still in my dress from the night before, one side of my face dinted from the bumpy carpet beneath my skin. My eyes opened slowly, and I recognized the spot immediately, this not being the first time I had awoke on the floor, literally inches away from my bed. I had no idea why I did that, I swear to god it must have been a decision I made when I was drunk, though in the morning I could never recall why I would ever think it was a good idea. I groaned and cursed to myself as I moved. I first readjusted my arm, and in the process knocked over and entire can that I had open next to me, beer soaking into my already ruined carpet. I hurriedly stood the can back up, though a good 90% of it had already spilled so there was literally no point. My head was pounding, every joint in my body ached like fuck as I sat myself up, rubbing my eyes, not really caring about the fact I must have been rubbing my mascara all over my face. All I knew was that I needed water, or a cup of tea, or something that would help mend my broken body. “Holy. Shit.” I grumbled to myself. I stumbled to my feet, nearly falling forward and whacking my head against the desk that sat ahead of the window, which looked out to what seemed to be an endless line of student accommodation. The only thing that got me through that hangover was the thought that there had to be a student in one of those buildings who was feeling even worse than I was. There just had to be. Luckily, this was one of those hangovers where I didn’t feel like throwing up, I just needed drink and food and possibly a cuddle, even though my usual person to cuddle was Grace, and that option was out of the window. I found my phone on the desk, checking what time it was and seeing it was almost 12pm, only an hour until my lecture finished. “Fuck!” I don’t know how I thought that I was going to manage getting there at 9am after drinking so heavily. Basically, I knew I wasn’t going to go, but I still kicked myself for it, I still got so annoyed with myself for not making it. I pulled my dress down to cover my dignity, all that was left of it, before turning on the spot and heading towards the door, eager to get some fluid in my system that wasn’t alcoholic, scraping my hair to the side slightly and catching a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror on my door. Surprisingly, my makeup was relatively intact, but there was no denying I was an absolute state. I tugged on the handle to my door and opened it slightly, poking my head around the corner and looking to the left down the corridor. Judging by how quiet it was, everyone was still sleeping, or in a lecture. The kitchen was so quiet it suggested that anyway. I fell through my door and groaned to myself as I scurried down to the kitchen, screeching to myself as I made the short journey, feeling so painfully sorry for myself you would have never thought my pain was self-inflicted. As soon as I step foot in the kitchen, which was still stupidly quiet, my heart caught tight in my throat, stumbling backwards and shouting out my shock. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” The random boy that was stood in our kitchen whipped his head round to catch a glimpse of me, eyes going up and down my body as he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he looked back towards his drink, continually dipping a teabag into the mug of hot water in front of him. “Nice.” He huffed, grinning to himself. “Shit. Sorry. You’re very quiet.” “I am.” He turned to look at me. He was extremely striking. I think it was his sharp jawline, how tanned he seemed to be, which was near impossible given the UK’s climate, so that was noticeable right away. “Did Tally bring you back?” I asked, hesitantly moving towards my food cabinet. It wouldn’t be the first time Tally had brought home a ridiculously attractive boy, in fact, she did it often. She had a way about her, an aura, boys flew to her like flies on shit, and she lapped it up. This guy had to be her best effort though. His hair was short, messy and brown and curly. He was topless, just a pair of running shorts on. It revealed to me his perfectly toned body, which had one very noticeable tattoo. An enormous butterfly on his stomach. I caught glimpse of it and then decided not to stare, but I remember thinking that was odd. He didn’t have any other tattoos, just that one. “Who?” He baffled. That threw me, I couldn’t think of any other plausible reason he would be in our flat. I certainly hadn’t brought him back, I would remember him. And Ringo hadn’t even gone out. I then thought maybe he was Ringo’s secret boyfriend, and was silently congratulating her in my head. “Sorry, I thought you were one of Tally’s conquests.” “I live here.” He replied. My eyes went wide. That was the person who was going to replace Grace. That guy. Jesus wept, I had only just gotten used to bloody Zayn walking about the place, even Mike wasn’t all bad, and then that one? I swore that people had not been so insanely attractive at school, or college. I moved to uni and then suddenly there was just a gaggle of attractive men and I for one, was not good at coping with attractive people. I became a nervous wreck and found it hard to structure sentences. “Y-you live here?” I pointed to the floor. “Just moved in this morning.” “Oh.” I gawped. “You live here?” He leant against the kitchen top. “Umm, yeah. In the last room on the right. First room on the left. Umm…” “The room next to mine?” He smirked. “Yeah.” He probably knew the effect he had on girls, he was stupidly confident, not struggling in the same way I was. I suppose it was partly down to the hangover, I figured maybe I would be better later on, or the day after, or next week… I would learn to deal with it at some point. After a few moments of awkward silence, he breathed in through his teeth, making it even more awkward, and pushed away from the counter. “Better go unpack.” He coughed. “I imagine I’ll see you around.” “Probably.” “What’s your name?” “Pippa.” “Pippa?” “Pippa Payne.” “Pfft, seriously?” He scoffed. “You sound like a character from an Enid Blyton book.” I just lowered my eyebrows and looked at him in a complete state of shock as he walked away, laughing and shaking his head, removing himself from the kitchen and going back to his room. I stood there unable to think of something to say, how snotty he had been and how he just did not care that he made that comment about me. True, it wasn’t the worst thing he could have said, but it just amazed me that he burst that out to me during our first interaction. I hadn’t even had the chance to learn his name so I could make some snotty comment back. I got a pint glass out of my cupboard and filled it to the brim with water, before practically running and banging on Zayn’s door, loud and ignorant. “Bet a tenner that’s Pippa.” I heard him yell from inside. “How am I supposed to win this bet?” I yelled through the wood. “By not being Pippa.” “But I am Pippa.” “Well then you owe me a tenner.” I huffed, rolling my eyes and letting myself in. Zayn, like most people, had managed to get himself in bed even though he was stupidly drunk. His bed was to the right as I walked in, a mirrored version to mine since he was just across from me. I stared down to him with serious eyes after having slammed the door shut. He let out a confused laugh as he looked up to me. “What?” He gawped. “We have a new person.” I whispered. “What?” “A new person. A boy. And he’s just taken the piss out of my name.” He uneasily lifted himself so he was upright in his bed, taking in what I was telling him. I hurriedly moved and put my water on his desk, before sitting at the end of his bed, still looking at him with the most intense look on my face. He ran his hands over his eyes and through his hair. “Grace literally moved out less than twenty-four hours ago.” He groaned. “I know, and they’ve replaced her with a twat. A really attractive twat.” “What did he say?” “Something about a character, something... I dunno, but I didn’t like it!” “Give it a week and you’ll be his best mate.” Zayn huffed. But he was far from right. Because over the next few days, I was going to discover that my new flatmate and I were not going to be friends, not at all.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hey! First off I love your blog! Second, I say you have a problem or don’t understand why people don’t like Mary and I saw this post pop up on my dash http://justjensenanddean.tumblr.com/post/163320319227/thejabberwock-in-the-beginning-403-i-think. And I think this might explain why. There is such a disconnect between the Mary we got to meet in earlier seasons and the Mary now that goes beyond the “she feels disconnected from being dead for 30 years”.  It’s just a different person altogether.

Third. I don’t think this is the place to say this, but tumblr wouldn’t let me submit a link in the askbox so.

Heya, thanks, @snowslittlesnowflakes :)

I don’t know if it’s just an interpretation/how you were reading it all along thing so I think I’m never going to be able to explain this adequately in words without doing a comprehensive study of people who DIDN’T like Mary to see where they went a different way than me, but I found Mary to have great continuity with herself all season. As I’ve been doing my rewatch I’ve been finding even more reasons to yell about how great a character she is and how well her story works and ties together for me.

One of the things I was wondering, and I don’t follow enough Sam girls to be entirely clear on this to know what their vocal demographic is like, but I have a suspicion based on the wank I’ve seen that some Dean girls dislike her louder. I find Mary’s season 12 arc to be intrinsically linked to Sam, and I was expecting/waiting for that ALREADY before the season kicked off, as like, the no.1 bullet point on my list of urgent Mary things they NEEDED to address. To my eyes the show immediately began to set up and prepare to do exactly what it was going to do to deal with this. It was a gut feeling at the start of season 12 but on rewatching I found exactly what had made me think it:

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/161941971596/1x09-she-cant-say-it-here-whether-its-a-ghost

I think it was because immediately in 12x01 they clarified that Mary remembered everything she was supposed to (aka not the time travel nonsense) EXCEPT this. I’m actually not 100% sure people remember being ghosts, since I don’t think Bobby has ever commented on it - or at least if he has it would be a very broad allusion to it, since I know he’s never had a sit down chat about it with anyone :P Anyway, removing it un-did her apology to Sam and that was GOOD because Sam could take that apology back in season 1 on HIS side, but it was no proper and fitting away for an ALIVE Mary who now had to deal with everything to feel like “oh i said i was sorry once when i was a ghost obviously it’s all good now” so SAM was the major cause of Mary leaving and being unable to cope with being around her sons, and this was loudly broadcast in the subtext of 12x01-3 to my eyes and so I was expecting her to leave and I was expecting it to NOT be about Dean, except as a secondary emotional arc from HIS direction towards her.

On top of that, Mary and Dean actually don’t have a point of tension except for the entire underlying trauma and her leaving after 12x03, all of which came from her deal, which was about Sam (ergo, the 12x22 conversation dealing a lot with how Sam was harmed, not Dean, and again, another strike against Mary from people who care about Dean that this conversation seemed not to be about Dean despite how it was to the core because all that Sam stuff directly impacted his life too and he said so and of course he’s rarely if ever felt unconnected from Sam to the point that Sam being hurt isn’t like hurting him too). 

So to me it felt like this was a secondary concern to the Sam n Mary stuff, which I was loudly stating at original airing times that I was ready to gobble up and give 100% of my attention to, did so, and therefore took away a completely different reason to be invested in Mary, allowing my Dean girl self to just happily soak up that Dean was having some problems with Mary and that he was going to have an arc of his own with her to make things up with her but the whole POINT was he was being left out and the narrative KNEW it, it wasn’t like the show did any of this forgetfully or maliciously against Dean to deprive him of his mother for no reason - the reason was Sam and that was not between him and Sam and not something I think he fully grasped consciously either, so it was something for ME as the audience to sit on and watch and wait to see how it resolved, and thankfully he and Sam never got into their own fight about it. So I was waiting for it to be resolved but I could see Mary’s discomfort was what she originally stated in 12x02 and not what she told them in 12x03 when leaving. The whole point was she didn’t voice what was ACTUALLY wrong, at least, the core of it, and left instead of dealing with it, having given them a reason they were all utterly helpless to, instead of a reason that Sam could chase after her to deal with with their words and just give her that vindication of her apology she thought she’d never get and - because she doesn’t remember it - never knows she made, putting Sam and an ENORMOUS emotional advantage over her since he already forgave her somewhere between 1x09 and 5x22, when his personal slate was wiped clean. In 12x22 she voices it out loud and it turns out to be fine but you know, if she just SAID it originally...? None of the drama of season 12 would have got past 12x02 :P

(Mary’s revulsion and horror at what she’d done to Sam is also a major emotional subplot of this fic I wrote circa 12x14 and it’s about as subtextual as the way it was being expressed in the show which is why it mostly manifests as Sam wearing flip flops for her and her loathing herself for it) (I include this note because it occurs to me that Sam’s characterisation in that fic probably seems utterly bizarre and extremely unfair on Sam unless you already read it once AND know how I felt about Sam and Mary in season 12, aka that by 12x06 I was sitting on the rooftop yelling about them every time they so much as exchanged a worried glance, and in 12x12 actually screeched out loud in glee about Sam and Mary and the yellow eyes thing and consequently spent the episode reaction time miffed that everyone was more interested in a little matter of the Destiel “I love you” than what I wanted to talk about and so that fic is a reaction to 12x12 and 12x14 at once :P)

ANYWAY I think Mary in season 12 is a substantially different person to any version of her we knew before because the entire point is that we were going to MEET Mary Winchester for the first time outside of dreams and time travel and on the other side of her death. 

She remained unbroken up to the opening of 1x01 because as fiesty and sweet as she was as a hunter when she was younger or as housewife-y and settled into a rocky marriage but loving her kids as they eventually managed to convey without rocking the boat too much in 5x16, none of this, even the sad Mary from 5x16, the latest canon version of her we saw before season 1 or 11, is who she would be post-dying and discovering her actions had global consequences and she’d utterly fucked up her sons, SAM IN PARTICULAR, and again I can not stress hard enough how important SAM is in all this, that her horror is about SAM not Dean, and that she’s running away from SAM and that she needs to make it right with SAM. 

Dean has a whole other bucket of issues of which the show took a different route to explore and unpack, by prioritising, sensibly, that Mary got maybe 20 seconds to have the “I hecked up” thought on stumbling onto Azazel in the nursery and her death, and I feel like I should repeat this over and over and put in my blog header maybe, the only time we ever see Mary after that is the “I’m sorry” line of dialogue in 1x09. That is her entire chance the show ever gives her to have a voice or to address what she did post-death. And it makes Mary’s post-death character ABOUT this until season 12 (when it... continues to be about this because that’s who she is because that’s the most important thing she feels post-death and 1x09 already confirmed it)... I don’t think what she said in 1x09 EVEN IF SHE REMEMBERED IT, WHICH SHE DOESN’T, is good enough to have Mary back and pretend her deal is forgiven, for Sam’s sake, said out of love for Sam. So the mytharc is about Mary through and through, from the BMoL to the choice to have a nephilim (who is a Sam parallel & hence ending the season with Jack and Sam staring at each other) as the more cosmic mytharc, and yellow eyed demons back, and an AU structured around her deal having never been made that she ends up being punted into with Lucifer, the reason she made it in the first place when looking for ultimate blame (again, something we’ve known since 4x22 and there were hints through the season that she needed a final reckoning with Lucifer). 

What we are seeing in season 12 is how that sweet and genuinely inexperienced, dreamy Mary we meet at her YOUNGEST age shown on screen, is like when you scrape together everything - the comments about her unhappy marriage with John, her legacy as a hunter, her fucked up father, her deal, EVERYTHING we know about her, and trying to turn it into a coherent character who has her own agency and inner thoughts and feelings that matter to the narrative, when the narrative previously only EVER produced her as a token to move around for other people’s thoughts and feelings. Even in the time travel episodes, she’s written as emotional manipulation for Dean, not as a character with a fighting chance, because 5x13 in the end wipes her memories clean and makes the very firm point to Mary that she’s gonna shut up, have her babies, and blissfully tell them that “angels are watching over” them when the awful, horrific truth of the Grand Plan has been wiped clean from her brain. I mean, Kelly in the cold open of 12x19 does what Mary was not allowed to do in 5x13 for the sake of the world, and yet is still dragged back to life because the baby is more important than her feelings - and since that’s that Glynn & Bobo episode, I’m assuming that’s a direct criticism on the past narrative, not the show fucking up this thing for once but directly telling us that in these narratives, the mother is meaningless (insert bitterness about Kelly having to survive like 5 Buckleming episodes before anyone wrote her with anything else to say than using her as the vessel for the baby so heavy handed and yet utterly unaware that that was all they were doing with her anyway >.>). The *only* thing that didn’t come up in the narrative except by omission, was the cupids, and they didn’t come up by omission before the title card of 12x01, so I figure they’ve been a part of the entire story all along even if no one said anything, especially with separate references to the angel fall spell to remind us cupids are a thing without pointing at Mary directly. 

But all that from her past that we DID know aside, Mary was NEVER a real character before 12x01, in the sense of being allowed motives, forward momentum, or a sense of purpose (and surprise surprise, she barely has one because she’s been so fucked around by the cosmic narrative all she can do is look at it in horror and wonder if there’s a way to make it right so Sam can pick up where he left off and go back to school and Dean doesn’t have to hunt, as John said in 1x20 - She  has regressive impression THEIR motivations looking back on her boys, just as we seem to look back on her with regressive ideas about her motivation even though she took her wedding ring off and that too was a powerful motif all season in its appearances and the silence about John and the John mirror in Ketch that she eventually purged herself of). So we can’t say we really knew who she was before (we meet her post-cupid but Toni extracted SHOCKINGLY dark murdery-ness from her and cited it as her Campbell side, and season 6 fills in an emotional blank there, that soulless!Sam happily fit in with them for a year and Samuel only got worried when Sam didn’t understand the concept that baby stew was bad). What she was made to say in the past, narratively, was to make us feel sorry for Dean and Sam because of her and her unknowing tragic request for them not to be raised as hunters. Dean gets so sad he forgets the 2x20 motivation to put saving people over family, and tries to undo history, and ultimately when he can’t, that trauma was part of the lesson Heaven wanted him to take away about his role, same as any other time they manipulated him like in 4x17 or 5x04 or Gabriel tried in 5x08. I used to think 4x03 and 5x13 gave us a chance to meet her but they’re still utterly clamped down in the wider narrative to be a fleeting apology for killing her off and making her stay dead. 

Anyway in 4x03 Mary is 19, motivated to get out in a way to parallel her with having Sam’s once innocence about thinking he can escape hunting, and when Dean talks to her, utterly untraumatised except for what you might expect being raised by Samuel. Asking her to be the same person post-death, with her guilt about her deal on her shoulders and 2 adult sons too traumatised about the exact same thing from THEIR end to just open up a fun little dialogue about it, is similarly demanding to keep her trapped in the exact same box, and demanding her to be someone who she realistically would no longer be, and would be demanding her to be a person who would be a poor portrayal of Mary and not taking into consideration every facet of her character, and not allow her to be traumatised or broken or overwhelmed with guilt without also making the demand she shoulder it completely and stoically and continue to try and be a sweet and motherly character because that is the role we may have come to expect of her even though we know Sam and Dean start out bright eyed and bushy tailed and post their death and guilt trauma, are angrier, harder men... And despite the fact the opening run of episodes of season 12 made it very clear it was completely unrealistic to expect Mary to cut the crusts off the sandwiches of her boys and drop back into their lives only to immediately fill an emotional void THEY had instead of wondering how SHE would feel. 

Allowing Mary to be selfish and leave and to show her brokenness on screen was utterly fantastic and whatever else you could complain about season 12, I’m 110% here for Mary and the arc they chose to give her because it was POWERFUL and EMPOWERING and they let her messy cry and kill things and do like 8 of Sam and Dean (and Cas)’s own personal selfish, misguided or murdery arcs for herself and at the end she was forgiven, got a group hug, and rewarded with being allowed to ask if she could punch Lucifer in the face and having that wish immediately granted, since she had some catharsis left to get which her boys couldn’t give her, namely going back to the root of her problems and knocking some teeth out :P

I mean, feeling like Mary wasn’t sweet enough is a mysterious complaint to me because I have been rooting for her every step of the way DEMANDING she be ugly and horrible and cold if she needs to be because I WANTED to see the image of Mother Mary utterly torn down and for it to be stomped out, and for her to do the stomping, on Sam and Dean’s faces if necessary, because for ALL of them it would be better in the end not to think she was supposed to be sweet and caring and motherly if she comes back as a REAL character and NOT as an idol.

Like, I get that you could think in 4x03 that was supposed to be telling us that was a character trait of hers and when you’re scraping for crumbs of a character who we get nothing about except these scant little episodes, you might try and stake the entire reading of her on these details, but in the same episode she also was snarky, Dean-like, a more than competent fighter, and tbh before you know about the cupids, just in 4x03′s context, I wondered if she was only latching onto John because he’d get her out of hunting, and it was a manipulative move in a way where of course she liked him and picked a guy she had some feelings for but at the end of the day it was about her rebellion against Samuel and her desire to be free - Azazel offers her peace in the suburbs when he brings John back and his words are not so much about their love but how Mary’s quality of life increases. And once you know about the cupids it just means she’s irrationally in love and staking her idea of that future all on one guy like no one else can do it for her, but she still has ulterior motives, that she wasn’t going to marry John and teach him to be a hunter and JUST want to propagate her bloodline like a good little meaningless walking womb in the grander scheme of things and it didn’t matter in what circumstances she did that.

And since 1x09 and that “I’m sorry” they’ve been trying to TELL us that Mary is messed up and complicated and did bad things and WON’T be so sweet as they think. Again in 2x22. And in 4x03 they reveal that it was this deal, but they still chose to make her a hunter and give her that legacy, and not be led into the deal blind, like some people we see who have no idea what a demon deal meant for them. And that DOES make her deal more fucked up and people who are critical of Mary and have been for a long time, much longer than season 12, have been critical because of the fact she should have known better or should have taken better precautions (thanks again to 12x12 for confirming said precautions were useless and allowing us to headcanon she absolutely did but Azazel strolled right over them anyway, since until that point all we knew was that holy water didn’t work on him).

So... anyway, idk. I wanted to meet the fucked up Mary the show had been promising us since the start, and they introduced the fucked up Mary I wanted to see. And I was delighted. And that’s the backstory behind that dotpost >.>

Re: what I actually said before, though... 

Idk if you just saw the post of mine that went outside this blog and lost all the context because of my actual complaint being dotposted (the previous day as well) to avoid drama and because I was mostly grumbling to myself in the tags - idk if you saw that or just some snarky replies where I gave 1 line answers before diving back into the tags for cover, because that got reblogged without any of the context of what I was saying. :P 

There’s some perfectly valid complaints about Mary and why people didn’t like her with some self reflection that I’m never going to disagree with even if I personally enjoyed Mary’s arc and had already mentally boxed away a large allowance for the show to suck at telling its own story in a narrative structure way, within its rigid formula, probably because I’ve had to forgive that complaint to enjoy Cas’s part in the story all this time as well and I am a season 10 bitter fan in that respect for Cas, so nothing can suck as hard as “I brought snacks” as his grand total contribution to an episode :P 

I was mostly grumbling about the people who specifically disliked season 12 as the MAJOR part of their complaint and that it made no sense, or that everyone was OOC, but then also as an aside, noting that they hadn’t made any attempt to sympathise with Mary and had immediately dismissed her as poorly written. In that case I understand perfectly why they dislike season 12, because sympathy towards Mary and pretty much swapping loyalties from your normal character stanning to Mary as your fave this year (as the show itself did by prioritising her and Cas’s arcs (and even Crowley’s or even Rowena’s to an extent for the sake of killing them off with a bit of fanfare, although, see also grumbling about 12x13 as the worst send off episode ever))... I think it’s important to go for that change in perspective and not judge how it looks on the surface but ask what feelings they’re trying to express by showing these things, in both the similarities AND differences, and ASSUMING the show is competent and did its research when the evidence is clearly there they did and are referencing every event in her life as much as possible, and therefore changes are made with intent to tell us more about her and to reveal new things rather than fuck up old canon. This would go a long way to explaining her arc, and therefore towards making a chunk more of season 12 make sense. And it was a semi-personal comment, aimed at a rather small, loud group of bloggers hence keeping it in the dotposts to myself with no major tags >.> 

So, apologies, I’m only making this so lengthy and clear because of the inevitable way misunderstandings happen on Tumblr and I’ve been bothered for days about that post being reblogged without my tags or at least, I reblogged it w/o tags to be sarcastic but since it was all out of context, once it got reblogged, no one would know my tags were there any more vs seeing it all on my blog in the correct place.

Also, like I said, I have no clue if the hating Mary contingent is more weighed towards Dean girls and the fact I related to her pain through Sam while watching Dean take the brunt of her ~rejection~ was something I was chill to weather because I figured it would work out because no way would they under-value Dean’s literal most important relationship on the show, more important than Cas and Sam TOGETHER, and lo and behold 12x22 delivered in spades the mother & son bonding episode I knew I’d get if I held my horses and let them utterly destroy that bond to build it back up. I don’t know if Sam girls have similar issues with Mary but from their own perception of how she hurt Sam, or if they interpret her leaving because Dean was too clingy (surface text of 12x02 & 3) or what. Or if they’re as content as I was to see how the “I hurt you i fucked up i fucked up” arc from Mary to Sam would take them so far as I was happy to go to let the Dean and Mary thing unfold because again, it’s the most important thing in the entire show’s backstory, and 12x23′s AU showed that again, by going to ridiculous lengths to validate what Mary’s deal brought about in the main world, but only AFTER she could look Sam in the eye.

I mean I don’t wanna say I have some magical understanding of season 12 that others lack in general, I just think there are a (few) loud angry bloggers who spent a lot of time yelling at Mary for not being what they wanted, and consequently took everything she did as a personal offence towards their interpretation and had an enormous chip on their shoulder towards the season, whereas @awed-frog‘s self-exploration on the point comes to a completely different conclusion of why Mary’s arc didn’t work for them and it’s a structural fault with the show that made it so frustrating and hard to get to grips with when the emotional telling should have been more upfront to work for them. (I also don’t wanna say their reason is the only good reason to have not got along with Mary in season 12 because there’s surely others, but it makes a lot of sense to me as a reason with little to do with relative amounts of offered sympathy and therefore nothing to do with what I was complaining about so a good example untainted by my specific wank :P) 

(and this is why this was all snarky short dotposting >.>)

Anyway standard disclaimer that I’m obviously a Dean girl and I love him dearly, but in this particular case I got in hot water with anons etc all season because I didn’t feel like Mary needed to be punished for hurting Dean (I went past a past like that while looking for some of the things I linked), nor that Dean’s hurt was more important than her pain, and consequentially watched the non-Destiel Dean girls I followed wander down a path I couldn’t go with them because their very own selfsame enthusiasm about Dean and Mary in PREVIOUS seasons had made me so utterly hyped to see her again, given me the appropriate emotional groundwork to prepare for what was about to happen, and... I mean the only thing I’m baffled about is why I had to unfollow so many people with tears streaming down my face because I admired them so much once, but their protectiveness of Dean won the coin toss and they loathed Mary and season 12 so much it just became a well of bitterness. I’m still sad that it was this issue that made me unfollow some bloggers I’ve followed since I got to tumblr, because they just hated Mary and season 12 so MUCH. And I remember reading posts valuing Mary so highly from them, back when she was an idol of Dean’s and nothing more. (Again: general impression, naming no names.)

And like... the ENTIRE SHOW since 1x01, we’ve seen that Dean did not have a healthy emotional distance about Mary, when Sam says she’s not coming back, and ironic as it is that it’s this context, Dean slams Sam against the bridge and is like DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT MOM LIKE THAT and it’s not that that’s ruined that she came back - that line is betraying that Dean can’t even think about her being DEAD and the LOSS he took because she’s so utterly tragically romanticised in his head that *pointing out that she’s dead* is an *insult to her memory* and yeah he’s traumatised and Sam doesn’t remember or whatever, but bringing her back is literally proving Dean wrong not that there was a reason to hope she’d come back because I think at that point he could have NO reasonable expectation to argue with Sam like, WELL SHE MIGHT SOME DAY because that’s not the point. The point was he couldn’t think clearly about who she was or what she meant because it HURT and even before he found out about her deal in 4x03 and swallowed THAT down like a champ, he couldn’t allow himself a SINGLE mixed feeling about her. She HAD to be perfect and venerated. 

Well that all went out of control for him, but “I hate you” is the single most important thing Dean has ever said on the show, followed by realising he can hate AND love Mary because she is a complex, fucked up human being who hurt him and THAT was laid down in the first 15 minutes of the show as something he couldn’t overcome. Because Mary wasn’t ever coming back. And then she did. And now he’s overcome it. And I cry about 12x22 just about every day. But anyway. I see Mary hurting Dean as the most essential thing that’s happened to him and as a Dean girl it utterly delighted me to watch his heart shatter in real time on screen over and over.

And yet others saw it as long over due rejection from Dean to Mary in 12x22 like within a season they’d grown to hate her so much they just wanted Dean to say “I hate you” and leave and go take a self-care weekend in the woods and maybe grow a beard and never come home and leave his entire family to fuck themselves about how they treated him, but that was all taken away from them so then they got on with loathing that he made it all about Sam and then forgave her and wanted to reconcile with these assholes instead. :P

And meanwhile the more I rewatch the older seasons the more I move 12x22 from “one of the best episodes of the show” to “actually the best thing to ever happen to this show” and “wtf everyone got character development for the first time since the apocalypse” and I’m over the moon.

And also love Mary a lot. >.> 

[ellanainthetardis]

prompt : effie and haymitch at home and effie hurts herself and starts crying and doesnt stop crying and haymitch tries to do something to make her stop crying because he cant take it when she cries

Here you are! [x]

A Crisis & Redecoration Plans

Haymitch lazily scratched his stubble coveredcheek and stared at the coffeemaker brewing his daily dose of caffeine as if itheld all the answers to the universe.

He often did that in the morning: watch the oldrusty machine work and wonder how his life had taken such a drastic turn thathe was now full time responsible for two kids and a woman, all that littleworld not quite sane. The kids he mostly knew how to deal with. Effie… It wasanother story.

He was trying, learning, but ever since she had showed up on his doorstep with herproverbial tail between her legs… It had been… difficult.

Effie wasn’t dealing and he was surprised shehad lasted so long on her own in the city to begin with. He wasn’t sure how tohelp and he wasn’t even sure she wantedhelp. She had been forced to come to him because she had nowhere else to stayand because she was so much in debts she needed money – and admitting thathadn’t exactly been smooth sailing on her part. He didn’t care about the money.That had been the easy problems tosolve.

She had triggers as long as the arm and everytime he opened his mouth he was afraid he would put his foot in it.

She never left the house. Some days, she neverleft the guestroom. Every time the kids were around she was all smiles and pretences,a quick reassurance here and an obvious lie there – because if she was still inpajamas at four in the afternoon it wasn’t because she hadn’t found the will toget dressed but because Haymitch had fucked up the laundry, of course. She had panic attacks. Shesuffered from flashbacks. She was full of contradictions he wasn’t sure how tonavigate – and he didn’t think she knew how to navigate them either – like thefact that she wanted the front and back doors locked but hated feelingconfined…

He didn’t have the best sleeping schedule. Heusually spent half the night up and only went to bed when the sun was about torise only to get up at noon. Effie’s sleeping schedule was erratic. On the daysshe actually managed to get out of bed, she stuck to a strict routine that wasbordering of obsessive and that involved a lot of cleaning. Seriously. His house had never been that clean, not even when Hazelle hadstill worked for him. They could have eaten on the floor. She went to bed ateleven on the dot every night and slept with the lights on. She had nightmares.Very bad ones. Sometimes she let him comfort her, hold her until she fell backasleep… Other times she couldn’t bear to be touched and instead she grabbedwhatever cleaning product was the closest.

He had gotten used to her cleaning at night andhe had kissed his own habits goodbye. He was too scared of leaving her byherself, he was too scared of what she would do although he had never reallyvoiced that worry out loud. He had snooped through her things to make sure shedidn’t have sleeping pills and he had made sure there was nothing stronger thanaspirin in the house. The liquor… He kept his stock in the shed for now. Hesimply didn’t like the self-destructive spark in her eyes.

So he forced himself to go to bed around thesame time she did. If his own nightmares didn’t wake him up, hers did. Or herroaming the house.

Nevertheless that was how he had gotten in thehabit of getting up at ungodly hours – early enough to see Katniss sneak out ofher house and to the woods – staring at his coffeemaker and hoping it wouldsomehow magically give him the answers to his very complicated life.

It would be much easier if she actually talked to him. She had come to Twelve,to him, and he wanted to believe it meant something.However he was also acutely aware that he had been her last resort and that sheresented her hand being forced. They hadn’t parted on the best terms. There hadbeen a lot of things unsaid and unacknowledged about his role in her captureand imprisonment. Things she had thought and hadn’t voiced. Things he shouldhave clarified but had been too scared to face. It wasn’t all forgiven yet. Shestill blamed him to some extent. They would get through it in time. Probably. Maybe. They had always hurt each otherand they had always moved on. Granted, being captured and tortured by theCapitol took the cake but… Effie alwaysforgave.

He should apologize, he thought and thecoffeemaker made that clicking noise that Katniss insisted meant it wouldexplode soon.

“Does that mean yeah or no?” he muttered butthe machine, traitor that it was, suddenly fell silent. He sighed and pouredhimself a mug, filling it to the brim. He was about to add a dash of moonshinewhen the crash echoed throughout the house.

He was out of the kitchen and in theliving-room before he even knew he had moved, worried that Effie had had aflashback or something.

She had been asleep on the couch when he hadwalked downstairs, having probably sunk there after one of her nightly cleaningsprees.

Now she was crouching in front of the smalltable next to the couch, fumbling with the broken pieces of the lamp that hadbeen in the house as long as he could remember. The good one, too. The one thathe used to read late into the night because it was the brightest.

She looked up at him, a mix of dismay and… fear on her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sosorry. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to… I thought it might look better overthere and… I shouldn’t have touched it. I’m sorry, Haymitch. I…”

“Breathe.” he ordered, warily crouching infront of her. He didn’t dare touch her. Her pupils were blown, her moves werejerky and her breathing was loud. It wouldn’t take much to send her over theedge and into a full panic attack.

“I’m sorry.” she repeated. “I’m so…”

“It’s okay.” he cut her off again. “It’s just afucking lamp, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to move it.” She shookher head, still picking up pieces as if she could fix it by simply holdingthem, as if it would somehow glue them back together. “I… This isn’t my house.I shouldn’t move things and…”

“You’re welcomed to move things.” he shrugged.“It’s your house too now, okay? You can move stuff. Hell, you’re welcome tochange the curtains even.”

The brown drapes on the living-room windowswere eaten by moths and every year they looked worse and worse. He wouldn’thave minded taking them down.

And, to be honest, the fact that she wanted tomake it a little more to her tastes made him feel relieved. That was more likethe Effie Trinket he knew.

“Really?” she asked uncertainly, almost shy.

It might have ended right there, he might havemanaged to coax her into the kitchen to eat some breakfast, if she hadn’t cutherself on a broken piece of faience.

“Shit.”he spat immediately, cradling her injured hand between his own, forgetting allabout not trying to touch her so he wouldn’t spook her. It was a deep gash buthopefully not deep enough that it would need stitches. He could already guesshow it would go if he tried to drag her to the hospital anyway so he decidedthey would wait and see. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Come upstairs with me,yeah? I’ve got a first aid kit in my room.”

And he kept it stocked in case Peetaaccidentally hurt one of them or himself during an episode.

Effie didn’t give any hint that she intended tostand up though. She was staring at her palm and at the blood pooling there,her face blank…

Trigger, he deduced, not quite surprised.

“Effie.” he called gently. “Tell me where youare.”

She was silent for almost a whole minute.“Twelve. With you. Safe.”

“Good.” he praised. “Let’s get this cleaned upand bandaged, yeah? Out of sight, out of mind.” She looked up at him and he wasstartled to see her eyes full to the brim with tears. He could only watch, struck,as they rolled down her cheek. “What’s wrong?” he worried, dropping from hiscrouching position to his knees so he could get closer to her. “Does it hurtthat bad?”

She shook her head and started sobbing.

Full earnest sobs that sounded painful.

If there was one thing he truly hated, it was seeing her cry. He had always hated it. Even inthe beginning, when he had still hated her… A crying Effie was a rare thing andall the better for him. It made him mad with helplessness.

“What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong… I’ll fixit. I promise, I’ll fix it.” he pleaded, feeling powerless and hating thefeeling. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t failed her… If he had…

“I’m so sorry I broke your lamp…” she gaspedbetween two sobs.  

He blinked at that. Of all the things…

“I don’t care about the fucking lamp.” he grumbled, annoyed that she wasn’t getting it.“It’s just a thing. This house’s full of things I don’t care about.” She criedharder at that and he realized how it sounded so he placed his hand on hershoulder and, when she didn’t protest, let it travel to her nape… He squeezedgently like he used to do, like she used to like. Affection, comfort,possessiveness… That small gesture had conveyed so much over the years… “You’rethe only thing in here I fucking careabout. I promise you. I’ll prove it. Look.”

He stood up and grabbed the closest thing thatfell under his hand. It turned out to be the ugly miniature of a cat –something that had come with the house too and that he had never bothered tossingaway. He felt a sense of satisfaction when it shattered on the floor. He shouldhave done that years earlier. A lot of things had fallen prey to his drunkenrage since he had won his Games but there were still so much shit that the Capitol had consideredtasteful decoration back in the day…

She gasped when the miniature exploded, herlips pursing into a sad pout. “I liked it.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course she did.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” he declared,carefully helping her to her feet. She held her hand up but blood trickled tothe floor and she blanched. She was still crying but less. “I’ll buy you a newlamp too. You can pick, even.”

“Can I pick new curtains too?” she sniffed, herinterest clearly piqued.

“Sure.” he caved, steering her upstairs.“Curtains, lamps, furniture… Whatever. Nothing pink and we’re good.”

She considered that when he prompted her to saton his unmade bed and ran to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. She hadlost interest by the time he was wrapping the bandage around her hand. Shedropped her head against his shoulder when he was done and he remained still,not wanting to spoil the moment. She sought him for comfort sometimes but itwas rare. She was too confused, he thought, she didn’t know how to accept orrequest his help.

“I’m too tired now but maybe later.” sheoffered.

“Sure.” he repeated, tentatively brushing astrand of hair behind her ear. “I mean it though. It’s your house too now.”

A small fragile thing of a smile floated on herlips.

It wasn’t much but it was enough to make hisday brighter.

[wolfbunsart]

Im gonna ramble on for a bit, so gonna put this under a Read More.

TL/DR: I find it real hard to find any time to draw recently, and Id like to apologize to all the people who support me, either through social media, Patreon or commissions, for not putting out enough content. Ill try to change that, and put out more furry stuff on your timelines and dashes.

I have not been putting out as enough content as I would like to. That wouldnt usually matter to most people, “oh ill just draw when i get the chance”, “well at least its just a hobby so it doesnt matter if i dont do it” and all that.

However, now I feel a certain sense of responsibility. Earlier this year I launched my Patreon so that if people wanted to support me with any ammount they wanted each month, they could, while I could repay their kindness with temporarily exclusive art. I also made it so that it would keep me motivated to keep drawing more, specially by making polls for patreon supporters for getting feedback on who or what should I draw next. 

Thats why I didnt put any specific reward tier for it other than “$1 a month for all exclusive content”, so that if anyone wanted to pitch in they could. I considered making more tiers further down the line once I got used to working on it or enough people seemed interested. However things started going downwards from there.

I launched my Patreon on January, a few weeks before the end of winter break. I fooled myself thinking Id have enough time to put out rewards on a decent schedule because the very first picture I did, I did in one night. I was probably just motivated cause I had been drawing a lot around that time, but I did it quickly, and in my opinion it was very good, so its not like I was sacrificing quality over doing it quickly. So I thought “hell yeah I can do this” and launched the Patreon.

However I eventually had to go back to school. Im a college student, and Im getting close to finishing my way through college (currently on my 8th out of 9 semesters), which means I keep getting busier and busier doing school work, attending classes, working on projects, and everything in between. Add all that to the housework I gotta do in the room I rent, plus all the traveling I have to do when visiting my parents, and that leaves me with almost no time for art.

Now you may think “ok but you gotta have SOME free time. Yes, but after all the stress and all the stuff I have to deal with its really hard to just come home and be like “now I feel like I could draw for several hours!”. Most of the time I just nap because Im so physically or emotionally exhausted, or just take some time to play videogames to de-stress. Heck, even during spring break I was like “hell yeah Im gonna have a full week to get caught up on my art” and my computer started having issues that i spent more than half of the week fixing.

So I feel like Im letting my Patreons down. Having long periods without time to draw was always a possibility I considered, but since its pretty much “donate what you want” I didnt worry too much about it, cause its not like Im asking for $10 out of everyone and not delivering on anything. However since the Patreon had enough success I was really happy with all the support, Id just check Patreon all the time and be amazed and happy at how much people wanted to support me for drawing dumb hunky animals.

That all changed though. Because Im not putting out art, people have been removing their pledges. Which is like, SUPER undestandable. Youre not gonna pay me for not doing anything. But like, its been so many, it really kicks off my anxiety. Now I cant check Patreon unless I have to, because doing so makes me legitimately super anxious.

The thing is its not only Patreon. Ive been taking sketchmmissions, which means Ive had some long overdue things to draw for people, and I feel a bit of a “need” to put out Shark Dude and other free content as well. Heck, most of the time I just look at other peoples art and I feel really disappointed that I havent had time to draw and it makes me pretty sad. 

Even when I do have free time for art, its a bit of a struggle: I have to choose what to prioritize, do I draw something for the Patreon cause I had no rewards this month? Or do I draw something for the commissioner who is paying more for just the one picture? Or do I draw something quick and free, that most people will enjoy, but also Im not working on the things that people actually give me money for?

So, this is an official apology to everyone.

To my Patreons, Im so sorry if Ive made you feel like youre wasting your money. I gotta find some way to fix up a schedule, or change the way of how I deal with the rewards. Maybe post more sketches instead of just finished pictures? Do the Image Pack thing? I dunno, Ill figure something out.

To my Commissioners, Ill get to your commissions as soon as I can, and Ill try to deliver something worth your wait. For anyone who wants to commission me in the future though, I might cut down on opening commissions until I can have more free time. Like, only open them until summer break and that kind of stuff. I originally wanted to do at LEAST 5 sketchmmissions a month this year, but boy that aint happening huh.

To everyone else, who may support me with retweets, reblogs, sharing, likes, comments, replies, and everything in between, Ill try to get more content done in general. Commissions is a thing you guys can enjoy when Im done with that, but patreon exclusives are different. I wanted to share Patreon stuff as soon as like 2 months after but since Im not making enough rewards I wanna keep them exclusive for a bit longer to justify the lack of exclusives. Ill try to make more Shark Dude stuff as well too.

But above all of that, to every one of you: Thank you, for putting up with me, and enjoying my art.

[fluffi]

i think it was because god's menu was released around the same bp and svt made their comebacks. same thoughts tho on gm > bd and i was also glad that bd got the wins gm didn't. and same with the streaming mvs while studying : ] ahh, the easily distracted people we are. (reading cut and litol font bc poor ppl who see this on the dash TT)

i've heard chinese ballads (usually osts of films and from a chinese friend) and their songs really tend to tug on my heartstrings. i hope sm gives shotaro more stuff to do soon :[ with some of the units being active and sungchan being an mc on a weekly show, it makes me wonder what he's doing. do you think nct will form a new subunit?

no, i'm not lactose intolerant so it really took me by surprise. it was a one-time thing. hopefully it doesn't happen again. i can't really say i'm a big fan of ice cream but it's good occasionally yk as a treat to yourself. and ahhh, i miss drinking smoothies. my favorite stall has been closed for nearly two years now, idk if they ever re-opened since our city mall burned down :[

i think it's an nct thing? it's why i never get tired of them bc they're always active in a way. you should've seen how things went down last year! march 127 album, april dream mini-album, may 127 repackage, june wayv album and the whole nct 2020 thing. it was a wild year. about the track, i listened to it once and forgot about it. might give it a few more listens but it might not grow on me at all. yes! wasn't a big fan of hot sauce at first too bc i thought the intro was weird (not jaemin's part, like the first thing that plays). and yes, that hook loops in my head 24/7. i even made it my instagram bio.

stray kids world domination indeed! and i agree that their performances were really impressive (specially the deadpool one, best one yet) but sometimes i would fancy ateez' more. i didn't watch kingdom too bc it stressed me out as a multi. always caught between being happy for one group and being sad for the others. and atz and tbz! you're still getting into nct and you're thinking of adding 19 more boys! judging from what i know your taste in music is, i think you'll like tbz's music better since there are a lot more soft songs there than in atz. but do give both discographies a listen in the future!

oh izone! i've only heard of them at music shows and dance choreo compilations bc of them being in sync. they're really satisfying to watch! i thought their title tracks were catchy as well! quite unfortunate that i never got into them really. but again, i dont think i can handle stanning temporary groups.

i'm starting to see a pattern in your biases :D i wouldn't be too surprised if you'll be drawn to jeno at some point in your dream venture. dream is soooo easy to love so if you really end up ulting them, i would understand why. and also, YES PLEASE WRITE FOR DREAM AND TAG ME IF YOU WILL. THANK YOU ><

thank you! :c don't get your hopes up tho, the masterlist must've been interesting to browse but are the fics truly worth it? XD i think not. since you already know koe, i'm reccing users @/rouiyan, @/nsheetee and @/loonacitys. i don't have that much fluff in my ficrecs blog. i think, i've heard of lvdsc before (maybe even read a fic or two) but i can't find their blog now. be careful in privating your works, you might end up losing them forever if you don't keep track of their links...(?) that's what happened to the works that i privated :/ take me with you if you move blogs ;n;

seungmin frequently left updates abt what he was doing, left good nights and good mornings, the occasional i miss you. he called fans 'baby' once. not sure if it was a mistranslation, or really just a one-time endearment. other than that, nothing beyond the usual. seung vlives always make me cry ;n; he always look so adorable and precious. also the gif, the fic was more on fake head-butting really but yes you could say it was also a fake nose boop bc it sounds cuter. i'll make sure to tag you on future seung content on the dash. (time to officially claim him as your ult, yes. dont make him secret anymore :3)

sorry it took me a while. tumblr went batshit. the ' werkl;' stopped working midway and i got busy with school yesterday. also haechan birth today and i'm so emo abt it. it's literally just a boy turning 21.

little font and cut saga lets go!!

(just kidding, i cant do little font typing for long periods of time, makes my eyes go beserk haha.)

true true, im afraid for txt on music shows now because theyre going against some big names (literally bts like whatj jsdf what was hybe thinking). yeah, streaming mvs while studying aka watching mvs on loop lmao. i still want to stream skzs final kingdom performance on instinct but i remember that theyve already won!! hehe

ah chinese ballads always make me emo, i like to scream out lyrics to the songs at the top of my lungs and sit there on the verge of tears. its a cultural thing maybe *sobs*. ooh, what show is sungchan mc-ing in? ill check it out. i thought sm would make nct japan for sungtaro (i heard sungchan speaks japanese) so it was a shocker when they made...nct hollywood lmao. given the current circumstances we're probably not going to get a new subunit anytime soon :( hopefully taro will have stuff to showcase during that period of time.

burned down?? oh my, what happened to your mall? that sounds terrifying. i remember when the front of my school caught on fire and we were all ushered out but we thought it was a drill and didnt find out till years later lmao.

oh true, since theyre such a big pack too. constant comebacks and promotions haha, nctzens never catch a break with 23 members. i listened to the new track again (ive forgotten the name already) but i cant- i cant do it. its just not my style hhh. i rewatched the mv for the godly visuals though. i dont know if youre talking about that 'bibididibibidiododo' part by that female morphed voice at the beginning of the song, because i wasnt a fan of that too. it grew on me though.

same, actually! im not an atiny and dont stan any other group in the show besides skz but i watched each groups performance and ranked them haha. at times ateez would rank over skz, it was wild. also yeah, my other multi friend was freaking out about kingdom and ended up abandoning the show because she was so scared of the fanwars and having to deal with her 'conflicting feelings'. about the stanning thing, in my defense, i have a list of groups i want to stan and ive recently added tbz and atz. the list is long, i have a long way to go! also yeah, i dont prefer ateez's songs and i have a bunch of tbz title tracks in my playlist but if i approach their discography like i did with nct then i think i would like at least five songs.

izone are my queens. theres a reason why theyre the only girl group who made it to my ult list haha! super talented and filled with variety and visuals, a perfectly concocted group (literally, sobs in pd48 scandal). ah, temporary groups. yeah i cried about their disbandment for like 3 days straight, it was bad.

a pATTERN?? INTERESTING. DO ELABORATE. jeno, oh my gosh hes like bang chan. an intimidating-looking bear whos actually filled with love and softness on the inside. im currently having a jaemin run though, his make a wish fancam is doing some wacky things. also yeah, dream is really easy to love. i fell for them so hard, theyre all talented and cute and adorable and the team ambiance is so nice. really rising up my stan list now. i mightt write for dream! ill have to see, hehe.

personally i think the fics are going to be worth it. i can feel it in my boOOnes. ooh, recommendations! fun :D ill check them (and yours) out after i finish this 30k jisung fic. ive been trying to finish it since yesterday but i keep getting sidetracked. also, i made a mistake. its luvdsc with a 'u', maybe thats why you couldnt find it? ahh. thank you for the privating tip though! will keep in mind. and of course ill take you with me if/when i move blogs. we're friends now! <3

SEUNGMIN CALLED STAYS 'BABY'???!!@)(@#*()! I SHOULDVE BEEN THERE ASKDFJDF. im exciting for the fake nose boop drabble!! i love soft couple moments hehe. also yeah maybe its time to make him my ult...hes going to have to compete against jake my beloved ope.

dont worry about being 'late' or anything! we all have our own stuff to do. also yeah tumblr is weird asf sometimes. if you havent realized i typically answer longer asks around the same time everyday, when i get to sit in front of my computer and pull out my clickity-clackity keyboard. super relaxing.

AND YES HYUCKIE DAY!!! HES SO ADORABLE HONESTLY. im in love with all seven members of dream, my fic rec blog is currently filled with fics for them haha.

[readbookywooks]

And so Mort came at last to the river Ankh, greatest of rivers. Even before it entered the city it was slow and heavy with the silt of the plains, and by the time it got to The Shades even an agnostic could have walked across it. It was hard to drown in the Ankh, but easy to suffocate. Mort looked at the surface doubtfully. It seemed to be moving. There were bubbles in it. It had to be water. He sighed, and turned away. Three men had appeared behind him, as though extruded from the stonework. They had the heavy, stolid look of those thugs whose appearance in any narrative means that it's time for the hero to be menaced a bit, although not too much, because it's also obvious that they're going to be horribly surprised. They were leering. They were good at it. One of them had drawn a knife, which he waved in little circles in the air. He advanced slowly towards Mort, while the other two hung back to provide immoral support. 'Give us the money,' he rasped. Mort's hand went to the bag on his belt. 'Hang on a minute,' he said. 'What happens then?' 'What?' 'I mean, is it my money or my life?' said Mort. 'That's the sort of thing robbers are supposed to demand. Your money or your life. I read that in a book once,' he added. 'Possibly, possibly,' conceded the robber. He felt he was losing the initiative, but rallied magnificently. 'On the other hand, it could be your money and your life. Pulling off the double, you might say.' The man looked sideways at his colleagues, who sniggered on cue. 'In that case —' said Mort, and hefted the bag in one hand preparatory to chucking it as far out into the Ankh as he could, even though there was a reasonable chance it would bounce. 'Hey, what are you doing,'said the robber. He started to run forward, but halted when Mort gave the bag a threatening jerk. 'Well,' said Mort, 'I look at it like this. If you're going to kill me anyway, I might as well get rid of the money. It's entirely up to you.' To illustrate his point he took one coin out of the bag and flicked it out across the water, which accepted it with an unfortunate sucking noise. The thieves shuddered. The leading thief looked at the bag. He looked at his knife. He looked at Mort's face. He looked at his colleagues. 'Excuse me,' he said, and they went into a huddle. Mort measured the distance to the end of the alley. He wouldn't make it. Anyway, these three looked as though chasing people was another thing they were good at. It was only logic that left them feeling a little stretched. Their leader turned back to Mort. He gave a final glance at the other two. They both nodded decisively. 'I think we kill you and take a chance on the money,' he said. 'We don't want this sort of thing to spread.' The other two drew their knives. Mort swallowed. 'This could be unwise,' he said. 'Why?' 'Well, I won't like it, for one.' 'You're not supposed to like it, you're supposed to – die,' said the thief, advancing. 'I don't think I'm due to die,' said Mort, backing away. 'I'm sure I would have been told.' 'Yeah,' said the thief, who was getting fed up with this. 'Yeah, well, you have been, haven't you? Great steaming elephant turds!' Mort had just stepped backwards again. Through a wall. The leading thief glared at the solid stone that had swallowed Mort, and then threw down his knife. 'Well, – – – – me,' he said. 'A – – – – ing wizard. I hate – – – – ing wizards!' 'You shouldn't – – – – them, then,' muttered one of his henchmen, effortlessly pronouncing a row of dashes. The third member of the trio, who was a little slow of thinking, said, 'Here, he walked through the wall!' 'And we bin following him for ages, too,' muttered the second one. 'Fine one you are, Pilgarlic. I said I thought he was a wizard, only wizards'd walk round here by themselves. Dint I say he looked like a wizard? I said —' 'You're saying a good deal too much,' growled the leader. 'I saw him, he walked right through the wall there —' 'Oh, yeah?' 'Yeah!' 'Right through it, dint you see?' 'Think you're sharp, do you?' 'Sharp enough, come to that!' The leader scooped his knife out of the dirt in one snaky movement. 'Sharp as this?' The third thief lurched over to the wall and kicked it hard a few times, while behind him there were the sounds of scuffle and some damp bubbling noises. 'Yep, it's a wall okay,' he said. That's a wall if ever I saw one. How d'you think they do it, lads?' 'Lads?' He tripped over the prone bodies. 'Oh,' he said. Slow as his mind was, it was quick enough to realise something very important. He was in a back alley in The Shades, and he was alone. He ran for it, and got quite a long way. Death walked slowly across tiles in the lifetimer room, inspecting the serried rows of busy hourglasses. Albert followed dutifully behind with the great ledger open in his arms. The sound roared around them, a vast grey waterfall of noise. It came from the shelves where, stretching away into the infinite distance, row upon row of hourglasses poured away the sands of mortal time. It was a heavy sound, a dull sound, a sound that poured like sullen custard over the bright roly-poly pudding of the soul. VERY WELL, said Death at last. I MAKE IT THREE. A QUIET NIGHT. 'That'd be Goodie Hamstring, the Abbott Lobsang again, and this Princess Keli,' said Albert. Death looked at the three hourglasses in his hand. I WAS THINKING OF SENDING THE LAD OUT, he said. Albert consulted his ledger. 'Well, Goodie wouldn't be any trouble and the Abbott is what you might call experienced,' he said. 'Shame about the princess. Only fifteen. Could be tricky.' YES. IT is A PITY. 'Master?' Death stood with the third glass in his hand, staring thoughtfully at the play of light across its surface. He sighed. ONE so YOUNG. . . . 'Are you feeling all right, master?' said Albert, his voice full of concern. TIME LIKE AN EVER-ROLLING STREAM BEARS ALL ITS. . . . 'Master!' WHAT? said Death, snapping out of it. 'You've been overdoing it, master, that's what it is—' WHAT ARE YOU BLATHERING ABOUT, MAN? 'You had a bit of a funny turn there, master.' NONSENSE. I HAVE NEVER FELT BETTER. NOW, WHAT WERE WE TALKING ABOUT? Albert shrugged, and peered down at the entries in the book. 'Goodie's a witch,' he said. 'She might get a bit annoyed if you send Mort.' All practitioners of magic earned the right, once their own personal sands had run out, of being claimed by Death himself rather than his minor functionaries. Death didn't appear to hear Albert. He was staring at Princess Keli's hourglass again. WHAT is THAT SENSE INSIDE YOUR HEAD OF WISTFUL REGRET THAT THINGS ARE THE WAY THEY APPARENTLY ARE? 'Sadness, master. I think. Now —' I AM SADNESS. Albert stood with his mouth open. Finally he got a grip on himself long enough to blurt out, 'Master, we were talking about Mort!' MORT WHO? 'Your apprentice, master,' said Albert patiently. Tall young lad.' OF COURSE. WELL, WE'LL SEND HIM. 'Is he ready to go solo, master?' said Albert doubtfully. Death thought about it. HE CAN DO IT, he said at ast. HE'S KEEN, HE'S QUICK TO LEARN AND, REALLY, e added, PEOPLE CANT EXPECT TO HAVE ME RUNNING AROUND AFTER THEM ALL THE TIME. Mort stared blankly at the velvet wall hangings a few inches from his eyes. I've walked through a wall, he thought. And that's impossible. He gingerly moved the hangings aside to see if a door was lurking somewhere, but there was nothing but crumbling plaster which had cracked away in places to reveal some dampish but emphatically solid brickwork. He prodded it experimentally. It was quite clear that he wasn't going back out that way. 'Well,' he said to the wall. 'What now?' A voice behind him said, 'Um. Excuse please?' He turned around slowly. Grouped around a table in the middle of the room was a Klatchian family of father, mother and half a dozen children of dwindling size. Eight pairs of round eyes were fixed on Mort. A ninth pair belonging to an aged grandparent of indeterminate sex weren't, because their owner had taken advantage of the interruption to get some elbow room at the communal rice bowl, taking the view that a boiled fish in the hand was worth any amount of unexplained manifestations, and the silence was punctuated by the sound of determined mastication. In one corner of the crowded room was a little shrine to Offler, the six-armed Crocodile God of Klatch. It was grinning just like Death, except of course Death didn't have a flock of holy birds that brought him news of his worshippers and also kept his teeth clean. Klatchians prize hospitality above all other virtues. As Mort stared the woman took another plate off the shelf behind her and silently began to fill it from the big bowl, snatching a choice cut of catfish from the ancient's hands after a brief struggle. Her kohl-rimmed eyes remained steadily on Mort, however. It was the father who had spoken. Mort bowed nervously. 'Sorry,' he said. 'Er, I seem to have walked through this wall.' It was rather lame, he had to admit. 'Please?' said the man. The woman, her bangles jangling, carefully arranged a few slices of pepper across the plate and sprinkled it with a dark green sauce that Mort was afraid he recognised. He'd tried it a few weeks before, and although it was a complicated recipe one taste had been enough to know that it was made out of fish entrails marinated for several years in a vat of shark bile. Death had said that it was an acquired taste. Mort had decided not to make the effort. He tried to sidle around the edge of the room towards the bead-hung doorway, all the heads turning to watch him. He tried a grin. The woman said: 'Why does the demon show his teeth, husband of my life?' The man said: 'It could be hunger, moon of my desire. Pile on more fish!' And the ancestor grumbled: 'I was eating that, wretched child. Woe unto the world when there is no respect for age!' Now the fact is that while the words entered Mort's ear in their spoken Klatchian, with all the curlicues and subtle diphthongs of a language so ancient and sophisticated that it had fifteen words meaning 'assassination' before the rest of the world had caught on to the idea of bashing one another over the head with rocks, they arrived in his brain as clear and understandable as his mother tongue. 'I'm no demon! I'm a human!' he said, and stopped in shock as his words emerged in perfect Klatch. 'You're a thief?' said the father. 'A murderer? To creep in thus, are you a tax-gatherer?' His hand slipped under the table and came up holding a meat cleaver honed to paper thinness. His wife screamed and dropped the plate and clutched the youngest children to her. Mort watched the blade weave through the air, and gave in. 'I bring you greetings from the uttermost circles of hell,' he hazarded. The change was remarkable. The cleaver was lowered and the family broke into broad smiles. 'There is much luck to us if a demon visits,' beamed the father. 'What is your wish, O foul spawn of Offler's loins?' 'Sorry?' said Mort. 'A demon brings blessing and good fortune on the man that helps it,' said the man. 'How may we be of assistance, O evil dogsbreath of the nether pit?' 'Well, I'm not very hungry,' said Mort, 'but if you know where I can get a fast horse, I could be in Sto Lat before sunset.' The man beamed and bowed. 'I know the very place, noxious extrusion of the bowels, if you would be so good as to follow me.'