#stan is questioning/bi

[luna-themoonie]

Chapter Eight

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Summary: It was only meant to be a stupid game of dares, 'The King's Game.' But, of course, nothing could go Stan's way. Cartman thought it would be hilarious to get under everyone's skin with his stupid dare and he did. Now, Stan had no way of getting back with Wendy because he was stuck with this dare.

Butters didn't care too much about the dare in its entirety. Stan was a cool guy and maybe they could get closer. He didn't see anything wrong with this dare from Eric. But, oh boy, if his parents knew, he'd sure be grounded. After this dare ends, he and Stan could still be friends, right?

What was the dare?:

Stan and Butters were forced to date for two months.

~~~

Stan was exhausted by the time Sunday came around. Kyle wasn't available yesterday like he had hoped so they decided today would work instead. Which… kinda sucked because his thoughts didn't leave him alone once it was a new day. He kept replaying the thoughts he had at the picnic and the feeling of constant nausea he would experience. He was still confused and he didn't like it.

He had tried calling Tweek again, hoping he had his phone this time, but to no avail. Craig had picked up for him again and Stan had hung up on him before he was able to work on any of his nerves.

He tried to ignore it, but that just made it worse and he just couldn't stand it. So, he ended up picking up an extra shift to deter his racing mind, but all that did was just make another part of him feel fatigued. Even sleeping wasn't enough to distract him because once he was aware that he was awake, nerves came flooding back and he couldn’t stop thinking about Butters again. He was all he could think about and no distraction was enough. He spent his entire Saturday thinking about the blonde. And he hated it.

He couldn't stop thinking about how he looked under the stars. Or how Stan had thought, for a moment, that the other boy was pretty. Or how when he hugged him, it was like he was given just a few moments of peace and the unfamiliar happiness mixed with a bundle of nerves piling in his stomach. What can he say? Butters' sunny demeanor was addictive once you got a small taste.

It shouldn't bother him, it doesn't bother him… but the more he thought of him, the more out of control his thoughts became. And that's when the nerves and nausea would get worse.

Everything that he recently learned about the blonde would spiral together and create unwanted images in his head. Now he kept on thinking about him making out with different people. It didn't matter if he knew them or not. And it made him feel so guilty.

Then he would start to think about Kenny and Butters kissing. How that would look. It would make his stomach churn. And then Kenny morphed into someone that looked eerily like himself. Now he was thinking about kissing Butters himself. How that would look. He even thought about how it would be like to kiss Kenny.

He felt his stomach give an intense flip and he let out a groan. It was all he could think about ever since the thought had first crossed his mind and he couldn’t help but feel guilty. They were his friends. He shouldn't be thinking about them like that.

Butters did offer to help him if he had any questions, but Stan just felt embarrassed just thinking about it. What was he going to do? He can't just go up to him and say, "Hey, dude! Ever since you told me you were bisexual I can't stop thinking about you making out with random people, including myself! I don’t know why, do you? And can I kiss you to see if it's just as enticing as you make it sound?"

He didn't want to take advantage of Butters' sexuality just because he was curious. But at the same time, he felt if he didn’t do anything, his thoughts would eat him alive. He tried telling himself that he just misses Wendy and that's why he's feeling confused. But the more he tried repeating that, the less his mind believed it. 

He was hoping maybe Kyle could talk some sense into him; connect the dots as he usually did. Help him understand why nothing was working to stop him from having these inappropriate thoughts about his friends. And maybe, finally, these stupid thoughts can go away and he can focus on something else. Like finding out how to get Wendy back! Though, he still wasn't sure what he had done wrong in the first place.

He and Kyle had decided to meet up in the park today since his best friend wanted to practice at the basketball court for an upcoming game. It wasn't too far and they planned on even getting some food afterward too. But… there was one problem - he couldn’t get up. 

He wanted to, he really did, but all he could manage was to turn to lay on his other side. He still had to see Kyle. He tried repeating in his head to try to convince himself to get up. All this did was fill him with an empty sense of dread that he would have to get up sooner or later.

He didn’t want to cancel on him again - he was more prone to doing that these days - but his entire body just felt like lead. He just couldn't move. 

He heard his dog yawn and let out a whine as he padded around his room. Stan sighed and grabbed his pillow to cover his head. And he had to let Sparky out.

His eyes kept on drifting closed, but sleep wouldn't overtake him no matter how long he stayed in his bed. Sometimes… He just wanted to sleep forever, hide himself from everything and everyone. And plus, nothing bad ever happens when you’re sleeping. 

Sparky let out another loud whine and Stan was quick to hush him. "Just hold it a little longer, boy," he mumbled before hiding under his covers. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried again to lull himself back to sleep.

A soft knock on his door had his eyes shooting open instead. "Stan?" 

He tried to respond to his mom, but the only thing that came out was a low hum. 

He heard his door open. "Stanley?"

He hummed again, this time louder. 

"Sparky has been whining this entire time. You should take him for a walk."

He didn't acknowledge this at first. He just shifted under his cocoon of blankets to try to stay within the warmth. He gave her a hum of acknowledgment but still made no effort to move.

His mom sighed from the doorway and he heard her walk into his room. "Fine, Stanley, I'll take him. I made some breakfast for you. Can you at least go down to eat that? Please? And maybe we can talk? "

He took a moment before he gave another hum and listened as she spoke to Sparky in a high voice. She did this for a bit before the door closed and Stan was now left alone. Stan sighed as he continued to lay there, struggling with an internal battle of whether he should go join her or stay in bed. She was always there for him and supported him in all of his endeavors. He at least owed having breakfast with her.

He sighed again and pushed himself up in his bed after making his final decision. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and paused again. Okay, we're getting there. He stretched and the immediate desire to lay back down overtook him. He forced himself to ignore this and got up to walk over to his dresser. This was where the key to surviving most of his days was. He crouched down and pulled open the last drawer, revealing the extra clothes he piled in there without bothering to fold them. He began to rummage through the bottom drawer and pulled out a familiar substance - his just-under-half-empty bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey. 

He licked his lips as he opened the bottle and gulped down the remaining amount, letting the warmth distract him just for a moment. He paused for a long moment before reaching back into the drawer and pulling out a new bottle. He opened it and took a few big gulps before deciding it was enough. He rehid the bottle back in his drawer, planning on disposing of it later when his mom wasn't around to see. He pushed himself up, rubbing the remaining sleep from his face before leaving his room.

As he made his way downstairs to join his mom for breakfast, he couldn't help but feel the effects of the whiskey taking hold of him. The world felt a little fuzzy around the edges, but he was used to this feeling by now. He had been sneaking sips of alcohol every now and then since he was thirteen; originally trying it when he was about ten. It was a way to cope with his problems, a way to forget about all the ways the world was turning to shit around him.

His mom was already seated at the table when he entered the kitchen, munching on a slice of toast. She gave him a small smile, noticeably happy that he had decided to join her. "Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?" 

He mumbled a response and took a seat across from her, trying to ignore the way his head was beginning to pound. 

She poured him a cup of coffee and pushed a plate of scrambled eggs, his own sausage, and toast towards him. "Eat up, honey. You'll need your energy for the day." 

He picked up his fork and started poking at the eggs, trying to force himself to eat despite his lack of appetite. He took a sip of coffee and glanced up at his mom, noticing how her eyes lingered on him. He cleared his throat awkwardly and set his drink down. “So… how has work been?” He asked, hoping to distract her enough for him not to feel like she was watching his every move.

“Oh, it’s been good. There was this client that came in the other day and she-” 

Honestly, Stan didn’t care enough to listen, but he hummed and nodded along like he was. He slowly ate his breakfast, staring down at his plate as she droned on about her work and the interesting tidbits she wanted to share.

When she grew quiet once more, Stan decided to look up at her. It was obvious she wanted to talk about something other than work, it was this look she always got. He looked away from her again, trying to avoid her watchful eye. She took a moment to sip at her coffee and hummed quietly. A long moment passed between them and she finally began to speak again. “Stan… I want to talk to you about something.” And there it was…

Stan shifted in his seat and gave a small sigh. “About what?”

She hummed quietly again, taking a moment as though she was trying to figure out how to word her question. “I was just wondering… is there… maybe, I don’t know, something you want to tell me?”

Stan looked up at his mom, confused. “What?”

She shrugged with a nonchalant look. “You know you can be honest with me. I won’t get mad at you, you know. I think it’s completely normal.”

Guilt began to bubble up in his chest and he looked down at his food again to avoid making eye contact with her. “I…" He stabbed at his eggs. "I have some Jameson in my room… I had some this morning.”

His mom was quiet for a long time and Stan was sure she was coming up with a way to punish him. She finally moved and walked over to him before brushing his hair back and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “That’s okay. Thank you for telling me. And I just want you to know that I’ll love you no matter what, Stanley.”

He was surprised, but he didn’t show it. “I… I know, Mom. I love you too.”

She patted his cheek with a warm smile and planted another kiss on the top of his head. She paused and played with his hair for a moment. “You… washed your hair?”

Stan ran his head through his hair at the mention of it. “Yeah.”

“For… the meteor shower… with your friend.”

He nodded, confused on why she was mentioning it again. “Yeah. I told you, it was all Bebe’s idea.”

His mom nodded, but something in her eyes told him that she wasn’t entirely convinced. “I see.” She moves to grab her empty plate and mug to bring to the sink. She hums quietly, obviously in thought. “Oh, yeah. Kyle called earlier. He told me to tell you that he’s at the basketball court in the park.”

Stan furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the clock in the kitchen. “Ah, shit!”

“Language!”

Stan fumbled out of his seat and out of the kitchen. He was late! He didn’t even check the time when he got up. He made his way up the stairs as fast as he could and into his room. He grabbed his phone and, sure enough, saw five missed calls from his best friend. He rushed to change out of his pajamas, throwing on whatever he could find that he thought were clean before practically running out of his room.

It wasn’t long before he returned, heading straight to the dresser and pulling the bottom drawer open once again. He took another few large swigs, just enough to feel buzzed enough to be able to withstand the disappointed look Kyle undoubtedly was going to give him. He shoved the bottle back into the drawer and fumbled out of his room once again and down the stairs.

When he reached the front door, he grabbed his keys, struggling to take off his car keys to leave them behind for his mom - a condition she gave him if he was going to drink. He called out a salutation to his mom before leaving the house. He rushed towards the park as fast as he could without slipping or falling and within a matter of minutes he saw the basketball court with a solitary red-head.

When Kyle saw him, his eyes slightly narrowed, but he continued to dribble the ball. “You’re late.” He called out to him as he got closer.

He raised his hand in apology. “Yeah, I’m sorry, dude.”

Kyle was quiet for a moment, but then passed the ball over to him, in which he admittedly fumbled with as it reached him. “It’s fine, just hope you’re up to try to beat me. I need a challenge.”

Kyle was most definitely not going to be challenged by Stan’s skills, but that didn’t stop him from trying. They played a few rounds, Stan stumbling around compared to Kyle’s calculated movements. Not sure how exactly to bring up his issue while they played, he decided to talk about something else until he could figure it out. “So… how’s everything going? With the dare, I mean.” He asked when Kyle scored another point.

Kyle scoffed as he caught the ball. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

Stan hummed and caught the ball as it was passed over to him. “Okay…” Unbothered, he dribbled the ball and tried to keep it away from Kyle, which was practically impossible.

Kyle scored another basket and sighed as he caught the ball again. “Everything he has us doing is bullshit!” And there it was. “I don’t even know why we’re doing it. His ‘punishments’ aren’t even that bad. It's not even like sending Ike to Canada is horrible, he’s been mentioning going after he graduates. But who knows where Cartman is going to have him? And my parents would kill me if I'm the reason he got sent off out of the blue.”

“And the college thing,” Stan added.

Kyle huffs and tosses the ball to him again. “Yeah, that too. But I can deal with four months.”

“But can your parents?”

His eyes narrowed at him and Stan decided to try to keep his mouth shut for the time being. They continued to play in silence, which was not what Stan wanted to go for, but he was nervous. It showed in how he played, not that he was much good in the first place, but at least he was manageable without his sweaty palms and jerky reactions.

When Stan was finally able to steal the ball from Kyle long enough, he took a shot. He wobbled a bit and missed the net by a considerable amount. "Ah, shit. Sorry, dude, I had a drink before coming." The excuse was immediate. He didn’t want Kyle to think anything else was wrong with him.

Kyle didn't respond to that, though. Instead, he picked up the ball and tossed it back toward him. So, Stan tried shooting again, but this time he hit the rim of the basket. Kyle was quick to catch the ball, but he didn't try sending the ball back to Stan’s outstretched hands. "I'm going to get a few drills in." Kyle didn't want to play with him anymore. He usually used his 'drills' as an excuse to stop watching Stan being bad at the sport. 

So, Stan gave him a silent nod and stepped back to give Kyle some room while he watched him.

Kyle was lean… tall… fiery in a spirited way. His curls were kept short, but still noticeable from under his hat and his skin was on the paler side. He had a sharp, masculine look about him, something Stan was always a little jealous of. 

When Stan realized his gaze was slowly moving down his body as he considered his thoughts, he snapped himself out of it and refocused on the ball instead, his cheeks growing warm.

That was it. Maybe he could pretend to ignore the problem if it had just stayed Butters or Kenny. But imagining Kyle! He had to get to the bottom of this fast. But how? What was he supposed to do? He’s never talked to Kyle about his sexuality, and vice-versa. It was just something… they’d never considered talking about. Not that it mattered.

"Hey… you alright, dude?" 

Stan refocused on Kyle and saw that he had moved to stand in front of him, holding the ball out and waiting for him. “Y-yeah…" He cleared his throat so his voice could stop shaking. "Just zoned out, my bad." Kyle indicated the ball once again and Stan shook his head. “Nah, man. I don’t think I’m a good match for you. But keep doing your thing.”

Kyle shrugged in response and dribbled the ball to a spot along the line, setting up a shot.

Well, it was now or never. He cleared his throat to try to get Kyle’s attention and hesitated before speaking. “Dude?”

Kyle, still focused on dribbling the ball in his spot to get a good shot, didn’t look at Stan when he responded, “Yeah?”

Stan’s words were caught in his throat and he felt like throwing up. His mouth floundered as he tried to force the words out. Anything, anything to get the ball rolling. “Have…” He swallowed. “Have you ever… I don’t know… wantedtokissaguybefore?” He rushed out.

When Stan had finished his question, Kyle had turned to look at him, eyes wide, just as the ball had left his hand. Everything happened so fast, Stan almost didn't understand how it happened - the ball had hit the corner of the backboard and had shot back to hit Kyle square in the face. 

Kyle keeled over, his hands covering his nose. 

"Holy shit, dude!" Stan ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders to try to get a better look at the damage. "Fuck, man, you're bleeding!"

"What do you mean?"

"Huh? Your nose, dude."

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed. "Why would I want to kiss another guy?"

Stan couldn't believe it. Kyle was seriously backtracking the conversation as if a fountain of blood wasn't spilling from his nose. "I don't know! Like how you kissed Craig."

Kyle blanched. "No! Why would you think that?!"

"I-" 

"That's gross! I would never do that!" The color in Kyle’s face began to return at a rapid pace, now surpassing its original color. "Especially with Craig!" And you technically already did.

"I-it doesn't have to be- I didn’t mean just Craig."

"What?” He scoffed. “You think I would kiss you?”

Stan felt a harsh pang in his chest at this. “N-no, not…” He let go of Kyle, not understanding why Kyle was being mean about this and why his chest was beginning to hurt. "I just wanted-"

"Wanted what? 

I just wanted to know if what I'm feeling is normal.

Instead, what came out was, “Kyle… You’re being a douchebag.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because the look he got from him was scalding. He gave a sound of surprise as Kyle pushed him off and stood. "This is all your fucking fault!”

Stan felt hurt and confused, looking up at his best friend as he seethed with anger. “What-?”

“‘Let’s go to the party, Kyle!’ ‘You need to relax, Kyle!’ ‘It’s just going to be a little party, nothing bad is gonna happen. Take the stick out of your ass Kyle!’ If you didn’t fucking force me to go to that party, I wouldn’t have Cartman up my ass anymore than he already is and dealing with Craig’s bullshit! But, no, you wanted to go to the party for Wendy!”

“That’s not-”

"Look at where that got us! You're so fucking pathetic and desperate for Wendy’s attention that we have to do some bullshit game to entertain Cartman. Why is it always the same damn thing with you?”

Stan swallowed, his eyes wide as he looked up at the redhead. "Are you seriously doing this right now?"

“Yeah, yeah, I am! Because you have been the same ever since I fucking met you. Always so self-centered and pessimistic. It’s no wonder Wendy keeps breaking up with you, you’re so fucking tiring. I wouldn’t want to deal with you either.”

That was a low blow. He pushed himself up and took a step closer, but was still wary of getting too into Kyle’s space. "I really am trying, Kyle."

"Trying what? Nothing has changed. It's always the same damn thing with you! You always make everything about yourself!"

"Like you're any better?" Was Stan’s response and he was suddenly shoved to the ground by Kyle, making him give a loud ‘oof.’

"You better shut the fuck up! I don't give a shit if you're supposed to be my friend, I will still fuck you up if you keep testing me."

“You’re being a shitty friend,” was Stan’s weak attempt at any sort of comeback.

Kyle let out a mocking laugh. "News Flash, Stan: You're just as shitty of a friend! You always think of yourself and fuck how everybody else feels, right?" Stan began to blink rapidly as he felt his eyes begin to sting. "Until you fix whatever the fuck is wrong with you, don't talk to me. I'm done with all of your bullshit." Kyle stomped over to the ball and picked it up as he wiped his nose, staining his sweater. He didn't spare another glance towards Stan as he trudged out of the park.

Stan continued to stare at where his best friend was just a few seconds ago… or could he really call him that anymore? Kyle was right after all. Stan was so desperate to keep the bond between the two of them that he refused to see that it was fraying the entire time during these past years.

He pushed himself up from the ground, stumbling for a moment. He wanted to go home. He should've just listened to himself and canceled again. Maybe, this wouldn't have happened… He could feel tears blurring in his eyes and he hurriedly wiped them away. He didn’t want to cry. Not now, especially not now when there was a chance for Kyle to still see him. He didn’t want him to know that he had completely crushed him. He didn’t bother cleaning himself off as he finally moved to exit the park.

Pathetic… Desperate… That’s what Kyle had called him. He wondered if other people saw him that way, he wondered if Wendy did. If Kyle was right… He must be… it was almost rare for him to be both passionate and wrong. Hey, but at least he can thank Kyle for one thing - He definitely wasn't thinking about Butters anymore.

Stan didn’t even realize when he got home, so lost in his thoughts. He took a breath and tried being quiet as he entered his house, but nothing really went past his mom. 

"Stan?" Her head poked out from the kitchen. "You're already back?"

He nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah."

She paused before taking a step out towards him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He was quick to say. "I'm just-" He choked back a sob and rushed towards the stairs. "I'm just tired. I'm gonna go lay down."

"Oh, Stanley-"

But he didn’t want to hear it. He took two steps at a time to reach his room as quickly as he could. He didn’t want her to worry and dote over him. He didn’t want her to hug him. And he definitely didn't want to cry in front of her.

When he reached his room he immediately holed himself inside, locking the door to make sure he was left alone, falling to his knees next to his dresser and pulling the drawer open. He didn’t bother being careful when digging through it, just wanting to be quick. He pulled out the bottle of Jameson again, this time finishing off the bottle. The burning warmth only distracted him for a moment, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

With a shuddery sigh, he pushed himself to stand and went over to his bed without bothering to change. He crawled under his covers once again, letting its warmth and darkness envelop him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and put his pillow over his head, trying to induce drowsiness once more. He wanted to get away so badly. Go to sleep and just forget about everything, even just for a moment. 

Because nothing bad ever happens when you're sleeping.

[caughtonwebcam]

style doodle from a 10 hour flight <3

[aperfecta-rt]

GAY GROUP SHOT OF MY GAY OCS! (And Poppy is just happy to be included! The One True Ally)

[olinblogin]

GRAVITY FALLS SEXUALITY HCS

(If you’re gonna be rude/homophobic/transphobic click off this now please :3)

Also slight spoilers for the Book of Bill

Stanford “Ford” Pines - Bisexual, DemiAroAce, if he gets to know someone enough he’ll try and hit it off with em (slightly biased bc I selfship with this dork)

Stanley “Stan” Pines - Bisexual (actually implied canon)

Mason “Dipper” Pines - trans (semi-canon) Bi-curios, questioning; Mabel tries to help him out discovering himself but we all know what her methods are like

Mabel Pines - bisexual (implied canon via bisexual flag stickers she has)

Jesus “Soos” Ramirez - straight ally 💕

Blubs & Durland - gay (canon)

Wendy Corduroy - bisexual (implied canon)

Robbie Valentino - biromantic, possibly demiromantic & asexual!

Pacifica Northwest - questioning, possibly aroace-spec!

Agent Powers & Agent Trigger - gay. Look at them. Just look at them.

Bill Cipher - considering this man got drunk after Ford “broke up with him” this is the gayest triangle ever— idk really have a sexuality I hc him as I think he just goes after whoever

Anyways I GOT THE BOOK OF BILL YALL RAGGHH

Alex Hirsch is making me go mad over here

[luffyvace]

Tanjiro x male reader<3

Tanjiro x male reader won second place in the poll!! :) enjoy tanjiro stans<3

Starting back at the final selection let’s say that’s when you met

just to clear things up

and you two started dating some time after that

of course eventually making it official

tanjiro was quite flustered when he realized his sexuality might be different from tradition

but he wasn’t afraid to be bi/gay/pan or anything

he just thought- ..! Actually he never really thought of that type of thing..

I mean he was kinda too young

but now that your together!

he has time to figure it all out :)

tanjiro is such a sweet lover!

and helpful!

and caring!

(Really he’s a ball of love)

if you feel tired he carries you

(Even if your both beat up after a mission)

if you need water he’ll spare you some of his or go fetch some

And he’s always down to spar at any type of day!

I will say he’s not thinking about you in that way when you take your shirt off

but when you do he definitely admires you!

you might have abs seeing as though the demon slayer corps has………...harsh (brutal) training 😅

if you do then he sees it as a result of your hard work!

same with scars!

especially with scars<3

he can 100% relate and you two share stories about each one

if you have any—you probably trauma bond

you guys just end up talking all night long about your past, everything that happened, your pain, whether you want revenge or not and so on!

It strengthens your trust and relationship with each other

btw if anyone asks why your together as two males or how you know you actually like men..

tanjiro will humbly and politely educate (lecture) them on how important you are to each other, how you met, why/when you started dating and even if they don’t like it, it’s simple to walk away instead of disrespecting your relationship!

I hope y’all don’t run into uzui..

(y’all do)

that man has THREE wives why wouldn’t he question when he sees you two?? 😬🧍‍♀️

tanjiro had to hit em with the quick fix cuz when I tell you he did not let that slide 😂

especially with how slick uzui mouth be gettin..😒

Tanjiro also has learned to adjust to scavenging for food (he grew crops with his mom)

as well as inosuke (he grew up in the wild) and zenitsu (he used to have crops with his sensei)

so if you can too, great!

if not the 3 of them work together to make the 4 of you meals

and after they learn how to stop burning them

theyre pretty tasty too!!

don’t expect inosuke to share.

do expect inosuke to take

-note to self, m/n.

zenitsu doesn’t see the attraction to males instead of females

he won’t judge but will ask you two if your sure your into males

and after tanjiro gives him that lecture about being respectful-

he doesn’t question it again

LOL

inosuke straight up don’t care

he doesn’t really view relationships in a romantic way

its more so between “they’re beneath me” , “they’re above me, I must beat them”

so no worries about him judging either 😋

if nezuko doesn’t like you

it’s not to say tanjiro won’t date you because of it

but I’ll honestly say it plays a factor

If sweet nezuko doesn’t like you it prob means something..🤨

she has good instincts so tanjiro might start to assume you have ill intent or smth 😬

he’ll try to get her to like you and if she warms up to you he assumes it might’ve been personal 😂🤷‍♀️

but if she doesn’t..

he finds you like 30% less attractive🧍‍♀️

if she does like you from jump, she starts to protect you as well

and loves to spend time with you when she’s outside her box

tanjiro adores this and you three cuddle or play in each other’s hair whenever you have the time

It also makes him happy if you accept nezuko as a demon quickly

after missions tanjiro finds you, nezuko, zenitsu and inosuke

then cries

like your all just a crying mess tbh

i mean unless your like emotionally unavailable..

BC I DON’T SEE HOW YOU COULD NOT CRY AS A MINOR WHO HAS TO KILL LITERAL HORRIFYING BEASTS FOR A LIVING?!?!?!?

Tanjiro will help you achieve your goals as you likely help him achieve his

even more so after that night you had where you opened up to each other about your past

(again, only if you have truama)

tanjiro is really grateful for you

before all he had was nezuko

and aside from zenitsu and inosuke

now he has you!! 💗

tanjiro’s love languages are acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation and (shy) physical touch

actually maybe some gift giving when he can too!!

so all?!

such a green flag 💖

for acts of service as I said he’ll genuinely do any sane thing you ask of him

he cares about you that much

he won’t bother to complain about being tired either

he automatically assumes your either doing worse or he’s fine

as for quality time he gets really relieved when he gets sent on missions with you

at least he can be there to see and protect you

(or maybe vice versa 😂)

he’d beat himself up about not being able to protect you more if you get serious injures

tends to your wounds everyday then trains vigorously

to get stronger and protect you as you fight along side him when he fights muzan

if your gonna fight along side him in that battle? He’s gonna need to be strong enough to protect you.

he doesn’t want to loose you.

especially not to that man.

he lost everything to him.

he won’t let it happen again.

💗💕💖🍡♥︎

for quality time outside of missions ✌︎('ω')✌︎

tanjiro likes to train, cuddle, go on walks, go shopping, chit chat :)

All that good stuff <3

with words of affirmation he really just praises you all the time

”you did your best today in training! I could tell! :D”

“You look great today m/n!! I’m glad your wearing the (favorite men’s jewelry piece) I got you!”

”I can definitely tell your getting stronger, m/n!!!”

c:

it can also be

“get a good nights sleep, m/n! I love you!”

”be careful on your mission okay? I love you, m/n!”

“thank goodness we surviveeeeed!!! I love you m/n!! I love you so much!!”

now lastly for (shy) physical touch

he is nervous to touch you

he doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, yes that’s the last thing he wants

he doesn’t know how to execute it so he ends up either asking or making it very obvious of what he’s trying to do

that way you can shut him down early on just in case

and you won’t feel pressured to let him if you dislike affection

which mind you he does asks if your okay with it first

so that’s likely not the case

if you did mention your distaste for physical affection, however, it’s duly noted in his mind and will keep it to a minimum

your gonna have to discuss boundaries or else he’s gonna act like you have the plague trying not to upset you 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Tanjiro doesn’t dislike pda or anything

he’s just a bit embarrassed about it

maybe if it’s more subtle like resting your head on his shoulder, then yeah that’s okay!

hugging too!!

but direct kissing or hand holding?

his face is a cherry and he’s apologizing to the passerbyers for disturbing them

even if they don’t mind

he’s self aware when it comes to not disturbing others

tanjiro can be a little flustered/shy about things but he’s certainly isn’t embarrassed about your relationship!

he’s quite proud, actually!

will happily tell/correct anyone that asks or misjudges♡♡♡

It’ll make me happy if you enjoyed this, so hopes to you did!

(apologies for the procrastination, and thank you for your patience lovelies!)

[fandomzwriterk]

Can you do a sfw (or NSFW if you want) if Smoke and reader having an argument and Smoke tries to make things right with the reader?

A/N: oh absolutely I will! Also mentions of JohnShi and RaiLao!! (We stan MK1 ships here)

Warnings: pretty much chill except a few harsh words

A Little Smokey

Tomas, you, Hanzo, Kuai Liang, and Harumi were spending the hot summer afternoon on the training floor of the building, as it was the only room with no walls and a roof over with shade. Kuai wasn’t having it, being that he was burning both on the outside and on the inside. Tomas was dying from the heat as well, both him and Hanzo on the other side of the room to stay away from Kuai’s heat. This was bad even for you, and having Bi Han around would make it easier but sadly no, he’d gone rouge and left you all behind to work with Shang Tsung. The heat was bad today, the five of you practically out of commission for today. Even Liu Kang wasn’t having fun either, he and Geras were burning up too.

“What I would give to find a giant pool of water right now.” You spoke out loud

“Yeah I’d feel so much better and not like I’m burning inside.” Kuai added

“Hold on I have an idea!” You hear Raiden say from a distance away

“What is it?” Tomas asked

“Let’s go ask Johnny if we can use his pool! He’s always saying we can use it since he’s almost always never around.”

“Fuck it I’m in.” You answered sitting up speed walking to Raiden and Kung Lao

“Me too.” Kaui added as he got up and sprinted over with Harumi behind him

“Alright fuck it we need an off day.” Tomas replied

And sooooo…

It took a little time to get to Johnny’s place, with the group also trying to see if Kenshi wanted to go as well. Unfortunately they couldn’t find him, so they resorted to going anyways.

“Ah yes finally free cooling!” You cheered as you, Kung Lao, Raiden, and Tomas went running through the door and into Johnny’s open door

“Oh hey guys I heard you-“

You four didn’t get far, crashing into someone a little ways into the house and falling to the floor. You fell on Tomas while Raiden and Kung Lao rolled to the side but right on top of each other. To your surprise, it was Kenshi, swearing a pair of white swim trunks patterned with pineapples, no shirt while having dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Kenshi” You shouted

You shot up from Tomas’ grip, going to hug Kenshi since it’s been awhile since you two interacted at all.

“Hello Y/n it’s good to see you too. I see you brought the whole team.”

He gently elbowed your side, noticing he was looking in the direction of who was at the door.

“So let me guess… it’s Raiden, Kung Lao, Y/n, Tomas, Kuai, Harumi, and Lord Liu Kang.”

“Good guess my friend you know us all too well.” Kuai responded back to Kenshi

It took a few minutes for everyone to get their clothes off, most of the boys just walking around shirtless with some sort of shorts on. You could see Harumi gawking at her husband Kuai, and you felt the same about another brother of the Shirai Ryu.

“Hey Y/n come on! You’re so slow!” Kung Lao shouted

“Cannonball!” Both you and Raiden shouted as you both ran to the edge of the pool before jumping in

“Incoming!” Johnny shouted as him, Kenshi, and Hanzo jumped right on top of you both

Almost everyone was in, except Harumi, Kuai, and Tomas. You couldn’t see what they were doing very well or hear what they were saying but it seemed like Tomas was nervous and asking a question. What you didn’t know at all was that Tomas was asking questions, about you.

“Just go to her and say ‘I like you’ to Y/n. That’s all you gotta do!”

“But-“

“Your brother is right Tomas you just have to say those three words to her and she’ll fall on her knees for you.”

“And what makes you so sure she will?”

“Just trust us.”

And so Tomas bid Kuai and his wife a quick farewell before slowly walking to the edge of the pool, quickly spotting you in the middle with Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi around you like they were fawning over you. It made him frustrated, after all he did like you but it was a pain to deal with four different guys at your feet as well.

“Y/n!” He shouted

You quickly looked behind you, spotting the handsome assassin looking right at you from outside the pool. You quickly swam over and pulled yourself out of the pool, standing in front of the grey haired man you admired.

“Can we talk over there?” He asked pointing to an open area behind him a few feet away

“Sure!”

You followed him to the spot, your eyes drifting to his ripped chest and bulky arms. He was attractive, and your eyes couldn’t stop staring at all of him. However, his attitude quickly turned when you didn’t expect it too.

“What are you doing with those four?” He grumbled

“They’re my friends Tomas I like talking to them and joking around with them.”

“Well I don’t.”

Where was this coming from? You’ve never known Tomas Vrbada to have clashing personalities with anyone else in the Shirai Ryu… well except Johnny. Yes he was Tomas’ favorite actor and Johnny’s even asked Tomas to star in things with him, but there are times where Johnny oversteps like he did before with Kitana and her sister Mileena some odd months ago.

“So?”

“So? I know for a fact Johnny and Kung Lao will try for any girl within ten feet of them, while Kenshi and Raiden will get to you slowly, hoping you slip one day.”

“And we’re just friends! What wrong with that?”

Now you were confused and annoyed, you’ve always been friendly with the champions of Earthrealm long before you realized you’d have feelings for Tomas. Were those feelings a lie now? This wasn’t normal of Tomas, to be angry and annoyed with someone.

“What’s wrong with it? Y/n the four of them like you why else would they always be around you?!”

“For your information Tomas they don’t. I know that for a fact, and there’s no reason to speculate it. Why are you mad about it? You know I don’t like them either! I like you!”

Before Tomas could even react, you started to turn and walk away.

“Wait Y/n!”

Tomas shot an arm out, holding onto your wrist as you both stared at each other.

“You like me?” Tomas asked

Oops. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Yeah?”

“I-I thought that-“

“Tomas how blind are you?”

“What?”

He let you go, and you smacked yourself in the face with your hand. Oh so Tomas wasn’t as observant to other relationships as well as he said he was.

“Tomas… oh my god.”

“What? What’d I do?!”

“You are so clueless.”

“To what? What’d I miss? Clearly they like being near you cause you’re a girl!”

How were you gonna say this since Tomas’ perception of a “relationship” was a boy and girl… but that was not the case with the four guys you were both talking about.

“Tomas… Kenshi is in a relationship with Johnny and Raiden is with Kung Lao.”

The weight of his own stupid assumptions hit Tomas in the face. Well, there went his bragging rights of saying he knows everyone and everything about everyone there.

“Okay… I see… my bad.” He answered covering his face with his hands

Poor Tomas had just been hit with the classic “the four guys are gay and the girl is actually not any of their crushes”.

“I am so dumb aren’t I?”

“Yes you are Tommy.”

“H-Hey! Don’t call me that in front of others!”

You just laughed, even though you felt a little hurt at Tomas’ blind views of how you felt about him and your friends.

“How can I ever repay you back?” Tomas asked moving his hands away from his face

“You don’t have to Tomas. Just know it’s always you.”

He smiled, feeling heat in his cheeks as you went and grabbed both of his hands in yours.

“I feel bad and I want to fix what I said.”

“You don’t have to. We both messed up in this situation, I should’ve told you a while ago when the boys came out of the closet.”

Tomas held back a laugh. You felt better knowing you made Tomas smile and laugh, forgetting about your small disagreement from earlier. You didn’t regret telling Tomas your feelings, not one bit.

“Ready to cool off?”

Tomas held your hand in his, taking a step past you to bring you both back to the others. You heard someone go “called it” and someone else add “Johnny” in the crowd of your friends. Kuai Liang and Harumi were smiling at you, Kuai holding in what seemed like a perfect joke.

“About time brother.”

“I hope it went well?”

“It went just perfectly.” You joked

And so Tomas and yourself walked over to the edge of the pool, right before Tomas grabbed your waist and jumped in with you. You could feel his grip on you even under the water, you knew he wasn’t ever going to let you go. You both came up for air, Tomas shaking his head to get the water out of his short grey hair, while you pulled back your hair. He treaded water next to you, smiling as his grip got a little lighter. His smile was wide, quickly looking to the four boys mentioned earlier and sighing.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

The end…

[stanfordsweater]

silly question but i need to ask as someone who is kind of new to wincest fandom, when someone says they're a deangirl/samgirl does that mean that either one is their favorite character or is it more of a kinning thing??? also... salmon dean.... i assume is not a beloved aquatic au tag that everyone but me knows about... ?? i just haven't been able to tell what people use it for 😩

hello bestie!! welcome to our storied fandom 💖

so "sam girl" and "dean girl" are kind of reclaimed terms that used to refer to fans who were VERY devoted to one brother at the expense of the other-- forums were ablaze, livejournals were raided, the whole shebang. this STILL HAPPENS, but these days we call the extreme stans "bitter sam girls" (BSG) and "extreme dean girls" (EDG). if you're on twitter you will likely see the BSGs calling themselves "sammies" and the EDGs calling themselves..... jensen ackles stans, honestly 🫡 not to be derisive but just in my personal experience the most extreme dean fans on twitter are there for jensen, whereas the opposite is not always true for jared. these terms for extreme stans have ALSO been reclaimed, with there being a "bitter sam girl club," and good for them!

meanwhile, on tumblr, ___ girl terms are still in use, now just referring to favouring one brother over the other. many people opt for a gender-neutral term instead eg. sam fan/stan, dean fan/stan. supernatural was huge in fandom long before kinning came on to the scene, but i do know a lot of newer fans might also describe themselves as a "sam kinnie" or a "dean kinnie." i know nothing about this subculture so you'd have to ask them about it 😌 TL;DR kinning is not the same as being a ___girl.

there are also "bibros," which used to mean you liked the brothers equally (get it? bi?) but now just means you like both brothers period, so someone could be a sam girl or a sam fan or a sammie and still be a bibro. there are also dean girls or dean fans or dean stans who are bibros. if you're a BSG/EDG, you are too busy throwing darts at a poster of the other guys face to feel the looooove.

then you have "bronly," a term which has fallen out of favour but is eternally relevant in this corner of the fandom. it began as an insult, but has since been reclaimed. a bronly is a "brothers only" fan, aka "only" cares about the brothers. while the show was airing this was a way to indicate that you weren't about to do PR for supporting actors, but now that the show is over it really just means you sometimes skip through cas' storylines in the later seasons. a bronly will never be seen calling this an ensemble cast show.

AS FOR SALMONDEAN, this is a fandom joke that emerged from saying "sam and dean" too fast, and j2 (jared and jensen) have made jokes about it on stage at cons. not sure if they joked about it first or if fandom did. salmondean = sam and dean when you're in a silly, goofy mood.

[dotthings]

Checking in on the latest wee woo PR happenings and I see Oliver Stark continues to inadvertently knock over even more bad, phobic arguments that come from certain SPN stans against bi Dean. And the phobic people from SPN fandom still haven't figured it out!!! Because they never will!!!!! It could never ever possibly apply to them and their badly reasoned and phobic arguments about why bi Dean can't be a thing!!! No, it's those horrible bi Dean fans who are insane to think any of this is relevant!!! Couldn't be at all applicable to biphobia inside SPN fandom, omg no, learn things?? Question their assumptions??? The horror!!!!!

So a reminder here's a list so far of Bad Fandom Arguments against bi Dean that Oliver Stark/Evan Buckley self-evidently debunk by existing

Dean can't be bi because he wasn't announced as bi at the start of SPN

Dean can't be bi because he's too old to turn out to be bi

Dean can't be bi because SPN is about [action oriented premise]

Dean can't be bi because SPN is about family

Dean can't be bi because he is into women

Dean can't be bi because he's an action hero

Dean can't be bi because it would ruin Dean and ruin the show

[hainethehero]

last one from me (hopefully!)

“I don´t get that anon. What is "BT shippers who claim to like Eddie, what kind of future do you envision for him if BT is endgame?" supposed to mean? First of, nobody has to "claim" anything. The implication here that people are only pretending to like Eddie is kind of odd.” – Well you see, I found it kind of shocking the way a heap of seemingly ride-or-die buddie shippers dropped buddie and eddie like a hot potato the second that a side character man with a questionable past kissed buck.

For one thing, there was relatively little fandom discussion about buck’s horrible behaviour toward eddie during 7x04 (which has been largely forgotten and glossed over). All anyone cared about from then on was BT and bi buck. Within days(?) of 7x04, people posted fics and spec about Eddie being homophobic when Buck comes out to him and tommy having to comfort buck, and about Eddie dying so that BT could raise Christopher together.

The rest of the season saw people generally posting about how Eddie’s a mentally unstable mess and a user and Buck should wash his hands of him and go be happy with Tommy etc. I remember BTs fanoning about Buck leaving Eddie in the kitchen in 7x09 to go to Tommy so Tommy can “f-ck him calm”. Etc.

You could say this is why I have trouble imagining BT shippers who also love Eddie, as most/all of what I’ve seen from BT shippers is general disparagement of and a lack of giving af about Eddie. Which is fine! You don’t have to care about him! But I was curious to know the perspective of BT shippers who apparently DO like Eddie and DO care about him. How do they picture Eddie will find happiness in the show? I was curious! I don’t get why it’s so shocking of me to ask questions in the hope of gaining a different perspective?

"Well you see, I found it shocking the way ride or die buddie shippers dropped buddie and Eddie like a hot potato the second that a side character with a questionable past kissed Buck" - signed, PURITY CULTURE

I'm sorry but AGAIN, PEOPLE ARE ALLOWED TO LIKE WHATEVER SHIP THEY WANT.

Why does it matter that people like a certain ship? THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. IF YOU ARE A RIDE OR DIE BUDDIE STAN, THEN THATS OKAY! IF OTHER PEOPLE LIKE BUDDIE AND BUCKTOMMY- THATS ALSO OKAY! WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND?????

I know it's hard to believe but y'all buddie stans DON'T have a monopoly on shipping 911 characters! And btw, most people who were buddie fans, actually do like Bucktommy. And haven't stopped loving Eddie as a character.

AND AGAIN-

Tommy's past no longer became questionable the moment he reconciled his relationship with Hen and Chim. Hen and Chim throwing him a farewell party with cake doesn't not excuse what he did, but it nullifies ANY notion that he was a "questionable" character. Chimney calling on Tommy to put out the burning house, ultimately saving Eddie's life, makes him a friend the 118 could rely on. Tommy coming in clutch when the 118 needed to rescue Bobby and Athena, makes him a trusted friend who Hen and Chimney put their faith in. Eddie immediately taking a liking to him, Bobby telling Buck that "Tommy's good people & they didnt have to talk about it" meant that Bobby trusts him. All of these HARDLY renders him a questionable character.

Also, "BT shippers not giving af about eddie"??? Really? Because from what I've seen, a MAJORITY of buddie stans actually dgaf about Eddie. They bulldoze over his character and make everything that happens to him, somehow related to Buck. If he makes a new friend, or has an interest in someone like Kim or, he's remembering Shannon and how he's still broken over her, buddie stans make it all about Buck and buddie.

Eddie has barely been given the luxury of growing as a character outside of Buck because all y'all are concerned with, is buddie.

And the problem with you asking about how and why BT shippers who do like Eddie envision a future for him, was that you asked it in bad faith. The number of toxic BT stans is OUTWEIGHED excessively by toxic buddie stans who make it their business to be INSUFFERABLE about buddie in EVERYTHING the 911 fandom does. Bottom line, yall hate seeing Buck with anyone but Eddie. It would be better to just admit this rather than trying to disparage Tommy's character who has totally been absolved and reconciled in the canon.

[gamerwoman3d]

How I think Smoke Stans will react when I write their favorite cinnamon roll as a freaky sneaky stalky dom that hunts down the reader:

How they actually react:

[The x readers in question linked below]

[Video source : nnamdithegreat]

[luna-themoonie]

Chapter Seven

A Raven and a Bat to See the Light in One Another

First - Previous - Next

Summary: It was only meant to be a stupid game of dares, 'The King's Game.' But, of course, nothing could go Stan's way. Cartman thought it would be hilarious to get under everyone's skin with his stupid dare and he did. Now, Stan had no way of getting back with Wendy because he was stuck with this dare.

Butters didn't care too much about the dare in its entirety. Stan was a cool guy and maybe they could get closer. He didn't see anything wrong with this dare from Eric. But, oh boy, if his parents knew, he'd sure be grounded. After this dare ends, he and Stan could still be friends, right?

What was the dare?:

Stan and Butters were forced to date for two months.

~~~

Butters woke up the next morning to a banging on his door. He was startled for a moment but he immediately knew who it was and why they were waking him so forcefully. He forced himself up from his bed as fast as he could and moved to open his bedroom door to reveal his ill-tempered father. “Good mornin’, dad.”

"You already know how this goes, Butters." He held out a piece of paper, which he took before his father could get mad again. "Your mother has already gone off to work and I have… some business to attend to. I expect everything to be done by the time we get back. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." He knew that his father's ‘business’ was just an excuse to go fulfill his homoerotic fantasies while his mother was distracted. He would be gone for hours, leaving Butters to do all the work, but that wasn't unusual for him.

"Good." He turned on his heel without saying anything else. Or anything to him at least because he was muttering under his breath about how unlucky he was to have a son like him. Butters was used to it at this point, but that didn't make the words sting any less. 

Butters sighed as he scanned through the list, knowing that it was going to be a long day ahead. His father had handed him a list of rooms, though he might as well just have told him to clean the entire house. Well, if he gets started now, he can just spend the rest of his day wallowing in his room. He was quick to change out of his pajamas and into some comfortable clothes, not that he had much.

He decided to start in the kitchen, washing the dishes and wiping down the counters. He didn’t mind doing these things, but when he reached the pantry, he remembered his hatred for it. Alphabetizing the pantry was so tedious, especially when he knew his father would purposely put things back in the wrong place and blame it on him in the end. 

This had taken most of his time, looking through each letter. When he had finished with the ‘N’s, he heard his cell phone begin to vibrate and ring. It was the scheduled phone call from one of his parents. On the hour, every hour, until one of them came home. His mom more likely, his father would always call the home phone.

He pulled out his phone, sighing before picking up. “Hi, mom!”

“Oh, hello, Butters.” She always sounded bored when doing these calls. Maybe she hated doing them as much as he did. “Do you have the list your father made?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, what are you doing?”

“I’m finishing up the kitchen right now.”

“Okay, well you make sure you finish up before me and your father get home.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.” As soon as he had replied, she hung up. He scoffed and placed his phone back into his pocket. Both of his parents always acted as if he wasn’t grounded every other day and he somehow forgot what he was supposed to do.

He finished up the pantry before finishing off the rest of the kitchen and moving on to the living room. He was quick to pick up the scattered magazines and books and arrange the sofa cushions. The vacuuming took a bit of time, but overall still wasn’t as time-consuming as the kitchen was.

It wasn't long until he finished the first floor, but he was already too exhausted to do anything else. He was just so tired of seemingly always spend every moment of his days cleaning. Before heading upstairs to finish off his list, he decided to eat a quick snack so he wouldn’t run hungry.

The bathroom, the hallway, and his room were left.

Deciding to go in that order, he trudged his way upstairs. He was almost done. Soon he wouldn’t have to worry and enjoy his day off until his parents came back. He sighed as he reached the bathroom; He hated doing the bathroom. It was always the worst part of his cleaning duties. He dreaded having to scrub the toilet bowl and clean the shower tiles. But he knew he had to get it done, so he took a deep breath and got to work.

He moved towards the counter to start cleaning it off but when he began to do that, he noticed something that made his heart begin to beat faster. 

His mother's makeup. 

She usually locked it away in her room after she finished using it but she must have been in a rush today. He felt his skin begin to crawl - that's usually how it started. He had to force the thoughts away for his own sanity for so long. Or at least for the last few months he hasn't allowed himself what he desired. But… his parents weren’t home… and it’s not like it was his fault his mom made this mistake. He shook his head to try to get rid of the thoughts. Oh, but he shouldn’t. He picked up the bag to move it, trying to avoid looking at it for too long. Oh… but who’s going to stop him? His parents were out, and his day was just beginning.

Giddy energy flowed through his veins as he placed the bag down and began to dig through the makeup bag. It wasn’t much for a full look. mostly stuff for eyes; mascara and eyeliners. His mother wasn’t one for eyeshadows. He pulled out what he needed and leaned closer to the mirror and got to work.

Primer was first, he coated his eyes with the substance, careful not to overdo it. He then began to outline his eyes, focusing on the outer corner. Then he did the lower lash line and connected the line before filling it in. Next, he pulled out the mascara and brushed his lashes, focusing on volumizing the corner. 

He stepped back and admired his work, checking his eyes to make sure they were even. It was his favorite look to do - the puppy eyeliner. But as he stood there, admiring his reflection, a wave of guilt washed over him. He wasn't supposed to be doing this. His parents would be furious if they found out. But he couldn't help it. He loved the way the makeup made him feel. The way it seemed to transform him into someone else entirely. 

He shook his head, trying to push the guilt aside. Instead, he took in a breath to replace it with confidence. His parents weren’t home, he had the free will to do anything. Well, to an extent at least. Though… how are they going to know if he still got his chores done?

Throwing all caution to the wind, he decided to do what he wanted. He can play any of his video games on his computer. He can play his 'devil's' music as loud as he wants. He can be who he wanted to be. He can even go out, though this was riskier. But… just as long as he was back and all his chores were done, his parents never knew. Butters thought for a moment to get himself mentally ready to break the rules. He’s done it many times before, but it never settled his anxiety any less. 

Feeling a new sense of resolution, he began to put away his mother’s makeup before leaving the bathroom. Opening the door to his parents’ room, he slipped inside, stepping lightly as if any noise would cause them to run back home and catch him. He reached the dresser where his mother would keep a box to store her makeup away from his reach. He tried to open it to put the bag in there, but it was locked. Instead, he carefully placed the makeup bag next to the box, hoping his mother would think that she had accidentally left it there in the first place.

As he moved to leave the room, he froze when he saw the door to their closet open. The devil on his and the angel on his shoulder began to whisper from his shoulders. 

He could fit into his mother’s clothes. The devil hissed.

He can feel more attuned to who he is. And the angel coaxed.

He began to rub his fists nervously as he stepped closer. Well, he did need a 'disguise' if he was going out. He tried convincing himself. He looked around the room, scared to see if his parents would suddenly appear. His heart was pounding hard by the time he reached their closet. With a shaky hand, he pulled open the door to reveal the rest of the clothing inside. Butters' eyes widened slightly as he saw the array of different clothes that were hung up inside. Dresses, blouses, skirts, and even a few pairs of heels were on display. He gulped nervously, hesitating for a moment before making his decision.

Butters slowly reached out to touch the different fabrics, feeling the softness between his fingers. He couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of guilt, but the thrill of doing something he wasn't supposed to was too much to resist. He pulled out one of his mom’s skirts, one of her signature purple ones. It was easier to hide when his mother did the laundry. He began to undress himself before slipping the skirt over his hips. It was a little tight on him, even when he tried to lift it to his waist, but he didn’t want to try to loosen it and tear it by accident.

He looked back in the closet to see what else he could use to add to his outfit. He began to chew on his bottom lip as he tried to look as fast as he could. His time would run out soon. He ducked and leaned back to widen his view and that’s when he saw a box on the top shelf. He squinted and leaned closer to see what it was. He saw that it was a shoe box, the little picture of what it held inside showing him that they were low-heeled boots. It might be the pair his mother had ordered in the wrong size. She must’ve forgotten to return it.

He reached up to grab the box to get a closer look at them, but some sort of bag tumbled off and landed in front of him. He leaned down to pick it up but froze for a moment when he realized what it was.

Looks like the universe was finally on his side today. He picked up the bag and opened it. It was a blonde wig. He remembered his mother complaining about how her hair was beginning to thin. She must’ve ordered the wig to hide that. Feeling another wave of giddiness run through his body, he pulled it out, feeling the softness of it. Oh, how he missed this feeling. After taking a moment, he placed it off to the side for now and decided to check out the shoes. He opened the box to reveal the black booties that were stored away. He sat on their bed and pulled them on to see how they fit. He twirled his ankle with a frown. They were a little too big, but they would have to do. He pulled on the other shoe before standing and walking back over to the closet. After looking through the closet once more, he figured he didn’t need a top from here, he could use one of his own. He quickly dug through the clothing and pulled out a black coat. Moving back over to the dresser, he opened his mother’s jewelry box and looked through his options before choosing a matching silver and black set. He made sure to grab the wig and his clothing before returning to his room to find a top.

He was buzzing with excitement. He placed everything on his bed before pulling out a white turtleneck from his drawer. He pulled it over his head, careful to avoid his eyes, and tucked it into the skirt before adding his accessories. Now it was time for the wig. He brushed his hair back and put it on, adjusting it as best as he could without looking at his reflection.

Nerves suddenly flooded through his veins. What if someone saw and recognized him? What if his parents came home early? All the thrill and excitement he felt before suddenly vanished, replaced by a sense of panic and anxiety. But he couldn't back out now, he had already gone too far. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened them, he was once again determined to go through with it. He grabbed his phone, headphones, wallet, and home key before slipping out of his room and into the hallway. Steeling himself, he made his way toward the bathroom. He took another breath and turned on the light, stepping in front of the mirror. 

And there she was. Marjorine - the name he took when he dressed this way or felt particularly more feminine.

It was like she was looking at a completely new person, though she knew that wasn’t the case. 

She began to fix her hair so it framed her face better, staring at herself. The wig wasn't exactly her taste, it was long and honey-colored, but she wasn't allowed to grow her hair out or buy her own at the moment. 

She couldn't help but stare at herself as she adjusted the wig. This was the first time she had dressed up like this in months. It felt like she was coming back to life after being stuck in a drab existence for so long. She felt the thrill of the forbidden course through her once again, energizing her like nothing else. She couldn't wait to feel the rush of adrenaline that came with going out in public like this again. 

She felt her eyes sting and she took a breath to stop herself from becoming emotional to prevent her makeup from being ruined. She was so happy to dress like this again even if it wasn't her usual style. She posed, blowing a kiss at her reflection before laughing at how ridiculous she was being.

She really loved this part of herself, though she had to hide it away ever since her mom had found the clothes she kept for these times. She remembered it like it was yesterday. She had received the lashing of a lifetime that day. Her mother was snooping around in her room and found the clothes she had hidden away, apparently not good enough. So, of course, she had put two and two together and told his father, which made him livid. Her father yelling at her was engraved into her brain.‘You’re not a girl! Boys don’t dress like girls!’ But she was a girl, just as much as she was a boy. Even if her parents tore up and threw away all her belongings, it didn’t change that fact. Now she was given sets of specific clothing, ones that her parents chose for her. All of them pointedly masculine, and only masculine. Nothing she owned was by her own choice. 

Though they may have taken away what little she had to express herself, she knew that one day she would finally be able to get out of this nightmare of a town and nobody will be able to stop her. She refused to let her parents' narrow-mindedness bring her down. 

She took a step back from the mirror, smoothing out the clothes and adjusting her poses to admire her outfit. She couldn’t help but feel proud of the person she saw in the reflection. She was brave enough to be who she truly was, even if she had to do it in secret. She knew it wasn't fair that she had to hide this part of herself, but for now, it was the only way she could be true to herself without facing the wrath of her parents.

As she was spinning around to let the skirt move to add to her confidence, the phone began to ring from downstairs. She felt her blood run cold as she froze. Her father was calling. Clutching her belongings to her chest, she left the bathroom and rushed to the phone downstairs.

She cleared her throat and picked up, trying her best to not sound nervous. "Stotch Residence."

"Butters! You're working on your list?'

"Yes, sir, I am. I’m workin’ on the bathroom right now."

"Good good. You better not be lying and goofing off. I will be checking everything, you remember that."

"Yes, sir, I know. I'm not goofin' off."

"Good, you go hurry and finish up now."

"Okay, bye, dad." Her father hung up without responding. 

Now, it was time. She only had approximately two hours and counting until she needed to be back home. Her time was limited and she needed to leave now. She rushed to grab her belongings and moved quickly. She made it to the front door and paused, checking her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. The wig looked good and the makeup was still intact. She gave herself an encouraging smile before opening the door and stepping outside. The cool air hit her face, and she took a deep breath to really take it all in before starting her way down the sidewalk, knowing exactly where she wanted to go. 

As she walked down the street, she felt a sense of freedom that she hadn't felt in a long time. The wind felt good against her skin, and the music in her ears drowned out all her worries. It was as if she was living in a different world, a world where she didn't have to worry about her parents and their constant rules. She couldn't help but feel a sense of rebellion wash over her. She had always tried to be the perfect child, doing everything her parents asked of her, but now she was finally doing something for herself. Something that made her feel alive.

She smiled shyly at the people she passed, walking with a purpose. She just needed to be in and out and her parents would never know. She kept reminding herself. She couldn’t let herself get too carried away. 

Finally, she arrived at her destination: Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door as she took out her headphones, the little bell announcing her arrival. The store was quiet, with only a few other customers seated at the cafe. She felt a sense of relief wash over her as she realized she wouldn't be drawing too much attention to herself as she waited in line. It wasn’t like she didn’t want people to know, it was just too reckless to have too many people knowing this about her.

Only a few close people knew this about her. Kenny, Nichole, Wendy, and-

“Marjorine?” 

She felt her stomach drop as she turned to see Heidi who let out a small gasp as she got closer. "Oh, it is you! How are you?" Heidi opened her arms for a hug and Marjorine returned it. “I thought you were going back to Texas,” She said as she took in her appearance. “I love this look, by the way.”

Marjorine looked down at what she was wearing, smiling. "Aw, thank you. I'm doing swell!" She tried thinking of something quick. "We decided to come back and stay a little longer. My classes are online anyways so I figured it wouldn’t hurt."

Heidi clasped her hands together. "Really? For how long? Maybe you can stay at my place."

"Oh, I-I'm not too sure. My mom likes to travel a lot, y'know. Maybe a week, maybe a month." She shrugged, hoping it was a good enough excuse to avoid suspicion. 

Somebody scoffed from behind them. “Can you two hurry up?”

Heidi’s face dropped, now void of any emotion, as she turned to the man that stood with his arms crossed, dressed in a black suit. “We aren’t done.”

“Oh, I haven’t decided what I want yet,” Marjorine added.

“And she hasn't decided what she wanted.” She rolled her eyes. “We aren’t even in line! What are you waiting for?” She turned back to her and smiled, acting as though nothing happened. “Why don’t we spend the day together?”

The man behind them muttered under his breath angrily but walked around them.

"I'm sorry, Heidi, I'm in a bit of a rush."

“Oh, come on. We can catch up with each other! I haven’t seen you in so long! I’ll even pay for your drink.”

She looked at the clock hung on the wall. She had about forty-five minutes until her mother would call. "Oh, just for a little bit then."

Heidi beamed with excitement and locked her arms with hers. “Oh, goodie! I can’t wait to catch up with you. There was so much going on the last time I saw you.”

“Right,” she let out a small laugh. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

“I know! I’ve never seen you that drunk before. You were wild!” Heidi gripped her arm with radiating excitement. “We should do it again!”

Marjorine waved the suggestion off. “Nah, I shouldn’t. I might’ve gone a little overboard. I-I should watch myself.”

“Oh, alright,” she said with a pout. “But if you ever want to do it again, you can always call me. I can set everything up with the girls.”

“Of course, you’ll be the first person I’ll call.”

The man in front of them moved and they stepped forward together, now face-to-face with a familiar twitching teen. Even more so than he usually was. He yelped when he made eye contact with the two of them. “Gah! W-welcome to Tweek Bros.… what can I get started for you?”

“Hi, Tweek. I’ll have a vanilla latte with oat milk, small,” Heidi started. 

Tweek nodded, hand shaking as he typed in her order. "And for you?" He asked, looking up at her.

"Oh, um, I'll get a small mocha cappuccino, please."

“Oh…kay.” Tweek’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted as he watched her, eyes wide. 

Feeling her stomach flutter with nerves, she turned away from him. “I’m gonna go find us a seat," she told Heidi, who nodded and let her arm go.

She took a quick glance around the shop before deciding on a small table in the corner of the shop. She pulled off her coat and set it on the back of her chair before sitting down. Immediately, she went to the comfort of rubbing her knuckles as she waited, anxious. She was supposed to stay for only a moment. She had to be extra careful with her time now. Oh, bad Marjorine!

After a few long minutes of self-chastising, Heidi came to the table with both of their drinks. "You have to tell me everything. What's been going on with you?" 

Marjorine fidgeted in her seat, feeling a sense of guilt for not being able to tell Heidi the truth. "Well, uh, not much, just tryin' to keep up with school and stuff at home," She told her before taking a sip of her drink, savoring the chocolatey taste.

Heidi leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "And what about boys? Have you met anyone special yet?"

Marjorine felt her face heat up at the question. "N-no, not really," she stammered out.

Heidi tilted her head with a knowing smirk, her eyebrows raised. "Are you sure? You seem a little pink."

This made her cheeks and ears grow warmer, which made Heidi giggle.

She couldn't bring herself to tell Heidi the truth, so she decided to… embellish it a bit. "Well," she cleared her throat. "There is this one boy…" 

Heidi gasped before she could continue. “Is he cute?”

Marjorine brought her hand up to try to cover her continuously darkening face. “V-very.”

Heidi leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Do tell."

Marjorine took another sip of her drink, gathering her thoughts. “He's in one of my classes and we've been talking a lot lately. He's really funny and kind and… cute." She felt herself blush even harder as she spoke.

Heidi’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Wow, that’s really nice! What’s his name?"

"Um, his name is...Steven," she said, coming up with a name on the spot, though almost giving it away.

Heidi squealed with delight, clapping her hands together. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! Have you gone on a date yet?"

“Um… Not yet,” she decided to avoid revealing anything close to the truth, “but we’ve been talking about it.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her own drink. "Well, you have to introduce me to him sometime if all goes well!"

Marjorine chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. "I will, I promise."

Heidi let out a small sigh. “I’m so happy for you, Marjorine. You deserve someone who will treat you right.”

There was a comfortable silence between them for a moment before Marjorine decided to speak. "So," she paused as she took another sip of her coffee. "Anythin' new with you? Any boys?" She asked in a teasing tone to get back at her.

"Oh… well… not with me, I guess."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Heidi sighed as she traced her finger on her cup. She stayed quiet for a moment longer before saying quietly, "One of my friends started dating the boy that I like."

Marjorine's heart sank as she listened to the confession. She could only imagine the hurt and disappointment her friend was feeling. "I'm so sorry, Heidi. That must be really hard for you."

Heidi gave her a sad smile. "It's okay. I mean, I don't own him or anything. It just sucks, you know?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But there are plenty of other guys out there. You'll find someone even better."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But right now, I just feel like I'll never find someone I like as much as him."

Marjorine reached over and placed a comforting hand over hers. "You will, I promise. And maybe you should drop your friend. What they did goes against girls' code."

"Oh, no, he didn't know."

He? 

"I'm… happy for him. I really am, but it still hurts. I mean, I thought we would hit it off if we tried. You remember Stan, right?" Marjorine felt her stomach turn into lead as she forced a smile and nodded. "We sit next to each other in Life Science. I'd like to think that we get along really well. And we even have some things in common! Did you know he's a vegetarian? I'm a vegan, which is different, but even then, if we were to get together, we could work on each other's food preferences. And he’s a dog person like me! Have you met his dog yet? He’s such a cutie!" Heidi rambled on, her eyes distant as she spoke of the boy she liked. “It’s not just that, though. He can be really sweet and kind and funny… and I feel like Wendy just took him for granted sometimes, you know?"

Marjorine took another sip of her coffee so she wouldn't have to respond. She knew exactly who she was talking about and it was going to be hard to play dumb.

"Maybe that's why they broke up. I never really pegged him for someone who's into guys." She shrugged. "I wouldn't care though. He's an absolute dream." She finished with a blissful sigh.

Marjorine stared down at her cup, trying to find something, anything to say in response to this. She went back to tracing her knuckles. It was like a bad case of deja vu. “Well…” She chose her words carefully. “I'm sure Stan’s not as perfect as you’re making him out to be.”

Heidi was quiet for a moment. “Well… yeah, I know that. But there’s nothing wrong with that.” Marjorine looked up and locked eyes with her. Her face was hardened. “Just as long as I think he is, I don’t think that matters.”

Marjorine felt a warmth run through her body and she gave her a small smile. “Right. I-I’m sorry.” She took another sip and tried biting back other comments she had. “There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Marjorine knew the feeling she currently felt very well. It was jealousy. She was jealous to know that she wasn’t the only one that had been pining over the ravenette. She was even more jealous to know that Heidi was right. She was sure that if Stan had to choose between herself and the girl sitting across from her, he would choose Heidi. She was really pretty after all. They did have a lot of things in common and a relationship between them would probably work out… And knowing this only hurt her.

She knew she had no right to be so… possessive over Stan. But it wasn’t fair that she still felt like had to compete with someone else, just to most likely lose in the end. And with the chance she had right now with this dare, she wanted to be as close to him as she could before it was all over.

Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket with the jingle she had set it to. She jumped in her seat and pulled it out, seeing her mother’s contact photo. “Oh! Um, I-I have to take this,” she quickly told Heidi before leaving the table and running to the bathroom. 

She locked herself into the single bathroom and picked up. “Hello?” Her voice was higher than usual due to nerves.

“Hello, Butters. How’s everything going with your chores?”

“Good,” she cleared her throat and began to pace the small room, “it’s going good, ma’am. I’m going through the list just like dad told me to.”

“Alright, then. I should be-”

A loud flush resounded and Marjorine froze. She had walked a little too close to the toilet and it automatically went off.

“What was that?”

“Oh, uh, th-that was- I’m trying to finish the bathroom.”

“Well, Butters, I’m talking to you right now. That’s a bit rude!”

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“Ma’am!”

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” she quickly corrected.

She huffed in annoyance but continued on. “I should be done early today. Remember, Butters, if you’re not finished with that list, you’ll be grounded up until next week.” She said before hanging up.

Marjorine’s breath quickened as nerves ran through her body. She needed to leave. Now! She fumbled with the door before pulling it open and leaving the bathroom. She tried not to draw attention to herself as she rushed over to the table she was previously seated at.

Heidi noticed her panic. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She pulled on her coat and began to button it up. “I’m sorry, Heidi. I-I have to go. My mom wants me back.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

She pulled out her wallet to pull out what little cash she had from her weekly allowances. Well, weekly as long as she behaved. “Here. For my drink.”

She waved it away. “It’s fine. Just make sure you text me more often, yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah. See you, Heidi.”

“See you.”

She gave her a small hug before rushing out of the coffee shop. As Marjorine stepped out into the chilly autumn air, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. She walked as fast as she could without slipping on the sidewalk. She wasn’t far. She could make it home and take everything off just in case.

She passed by the variety of buildings on the main street, trying to focus only on getting home. She tried to ignore the people around her, but as she passed by the hand-down retail store, she froze when she heard a wolf whistle. "Damn, little girly, you come around here often? How about we head back to my place and have some fun?”

She turned to the voice, ready to snap at them for being so vulgar, but stopped and rolled her eyes when it was a familiar blonde clad in his work uniform. "Ken, don't do that!"

Kenny laughed. "How're you doing, darlin'?"

“I’m fine,” She replied stiffly.

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound fine. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She turned and began to walk again. “I have to get home.”

She heard him begin to follow and she rolled her eyes. “I thought they took your clothes,” he said as he bumped her shoulder with his.

“They did take my clothes. These are my mom’s.”

“Oh.” She felt his hand wrap around her shoulder and she glanced at him for a moment before keeping her gaze steady forward. "Look, I wanted to talk to you."

Marjorine clenched her jaw. "I have to get back home,” She repeated.

“I don’t want us to fight anymore.”

“Well, that isn’t my fault. Now, is it?”

“You’re right. I just…” He went quiet. 

"What are you doing over here anyway?"

"I was walking Karen to work. Then I was gonna hang around until my shift starts."

“Well, you’ve done that. Now leave me alone.”

“How could I leave such a beautiful thing to just walk past me like that?" He joked, giving her an exaggerated wink.

Marjorine gave him a skeptical look. He always did this; hiding behind jokes. She kept on walking, not allowing herself to give in to respond to him.

"Oh, c’mon! Not even a little smile?”

“No.”

“Just… talk to me.” He grabbed her arm to stop her from walking any further. “Please.”

“Oh, so you only want me to talk because you’re ready to?”

“No! Marjorine, please."

She paused, her face scrunching up as she pulled her arm away. She hated the warmth she felt from him saying her name - something that she should be used to by now. "What?"

She watched as Kenny fumbled over nonexistent words. "I, um, I just-" He let out a frustrated sigh. He stopped and just looked up at her, staying silent. His ocean-blue eyes wavering as time passed slowly.

Refusing to read his apology through his eyes, she scoffed and turned to leave. "I don't have time for this, Ken! I have to get home before-" She slipped on a patch of ice, making her yelp as she fell backwards. 

Luckily, Kenny was able to catch her just in time before she hit the ground and ruined her clothes. "Careful, don't need you falling for me again," he said with a light chuckle as he carefully pulled her up.

But Marjorine didn't find it amusing. She felt her face grow warm as she tore herself away from him. "Will you stop it already!?" Kenny flinched. "You always do this, Ken! You make jokes and pretend that the problem disappears, but it doesn't!"

He sputtered as he put his hands up in defense. “I-I just worry.”

“And I  can handle myself.”

“I know! I know you can!”

“Then why do you treat me like you don’t?”

Kenny didn’t reply. He looked down at his feet instead. 

This made Marjorine feel bad. Kenny was one of her closest friends and she didn't want to fight anymore. But, dear God, was he stubborn with his emotions. 

“Kenny…” Marjorine sighed, trying to figure out the best way to say what she thought. “You don’t always have to be the hero, y’know.”

“I-I know, I just-”

“I don’t think you do.”

He was silent again. His eyes haven't left the ground. 

Her face softened and she reached forward to tug his jacket to have him follow her as she continued her way back home. She kept her grip on his arm as he kept his gaze downward.

"It's a good thing, y'know. But everyone who you care about doesn't need you to hover around. Not me, not Karen…" She noticed his shoulders begin to droop. She was probably making him feel worse. She moved her hand to his shoulder. "Ken… I think you might have a savior complex."

He finally looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed. "Savior complex? I don't have-"

"I'm not sayin' that it's a bad thing. It's great you want to help people. But sometimes that's all you do. I don't need you to be protectin' me all the time and you don't need to involve yourself in everythin'. It's gonna end up doin' you more harm than good." She noticed the corner of his mouth twitch. "Sometimes, other people aren't your priority. Okay, Ken?"

He nodded. 

"If… if somethin' happens, I'll tell you. And you can help me all you want. But you gotta promise me to stop puttin' yourself in the middle."

Kenny’s mouth quirked up into a small smile. "Okay."

"Thank you." She was relieved.

She noticed Kenny begin to lean forward to press a kiss onto her cheek like he usually did, but she took a step back. His eyebrows twitched upward, but he didn't say anything. 

"You can't do that anymore, Ken. What if Eric finds out?"

A frown etched onto his face. “It’s not like they’ll know.”

“Yeah, but you’re with Tweek.” The light in Kenny’s eyes dimmed when she said this. “And I’m supposed to be with Stan.”

“It’s not even real, Marji…”

Well, it's real to me.

It's what she wanted to say, but she knew it would've been bad. Both for her delusions and his feelings. 

"I'm sorry, Ken."

He only shrugged. "It's fine."

Her house came into view, and luckily no cars were pulled into the driveway to warn her of her demise. She quickened her steps and reached the door. Marjorine unlocked the door and pushed it open, extending an arm. "Go on, but don't go makin' a mess. I need to finish cleaning before my parents get home."

"Why'd they ground you this time anyways?" He asked as he walked past her.

"I came back home after my curfew," she answered as she closed the door. She quickly went up the stairs, Kenny following close behind, and grabbed the clothes she previously wore before she decided to go awol. "Me and Stan went to see the meteor shower together." She went into her parents’ room and began to remove everything that wasn’t hers.

Kenny leaned against the doorway as he watched her undress and hide away the clothes she took from her mother.

As she pulled off the turtleneck to replace it with her earlier t-shirt, Kenny cleared his throat. “Does he know?”

It took her a moment to figure out who he was talking about. "Of course he doesn't know."

He shifted in his place. "I think you should tell him." Marjorine furrowed her eyebrows and Kenny held up his arms in defense. "I just think he'd be there when you need him for times like these."

She gave a huff of annoyance as she carefully replaced everything back to where they originally were. "I'll be fine. It isn't something for you to decide anyways."

"I know… but I know how much it bothers you too."

She shook her head. "It would bother him."

“Stan isn’t like that, he won’t care."

"Right, the same way he doesn't care about 'dating' me?"

"If you won't let me indulge in my 'savior complex,' like you say I have." He used air quotes as he said this. "Then you should let Stan help you."

“Right, replace one with the other. You both are just as bad as the other."

Kenny laughed at this. "You don't have to do it. It's just a suggestion. But I do really think he would help, as dense as he is."

She fiddled with the earrings for a moment as she took them off. "But… he was real mad when I tried holding his hand and stuff."

He rolled his eyes. "He's an idiot, but he doesn't care. He only cares when it's himself."

"What if he doesn't understand?"

"You know how he is. Even if he doesn't understand, he'll still try to help. You're still his friend."

Right, just his friend. “Are you two gonna get along again?” Kenny pressed his lips together at this question. "You're really just mad at him on my behalf and you don't need to do all that."

"I’m not even really mad anymore. Just more… annoyed. He hasn't even apologized."

"Yes, he has." Kenny glanced at her. "He needed to be sorry to me, not you. Has he done anything to you to be sorry for?" He stayed quiet. 

She moved passed him and into the bathroom. "Can you help me, Ken?" She heard him follow close behind as they both entered the small room. "I need to make sure there's no more makeup." She told him as she turned on the light and turned to the mirror.

She looked at herself for a long moment, trying to soak in the image of herself before it went away.

“Are you ready?”

She sighed and forced herself to look away as she took off the wig. "Yeah…" She moved to sit down on the toilet seat and waited as Kenny pulled out a makeup wipe from under the sink.

"Okay, darlin', close your eyes for me."

She did as he said and let him remove the makeup. Kenny was gentle with the wipe, not pressing too hard on her eye, but he went over it again and again.

"Look at me." She opened her eyes and looked up at him as he inspected her eyes. He would carefully wipe away any excess that remained. "There we are. All done."

All done… back to being seen as only 'Butters,' the kid they can use and push around. Back to hiding away a piece of himself. She felt her eyes well up with tears and she covered her face to hide it.

“Oh, don’t cry.”

“I hate it here.”

“I know.” She felt Kenny wrap his arms around her, pressing his lips to her temple. 

"I want to leave."

He hushed soothingly and rubbed her back. "I know you do. You're so close. Only a few more months and we can leave. Wherever you want to, yeah?"

Marjorine only nodded, her sobs making her unable to speak anymore. 

She continued to cry as Kenny tried to soothe her. Whispering reassurances and rubbing her back as he held her. Kenny was always so kind and understanding. He knew every little thing about her, including how to calm her down.

She felt so bad for ending things with him, but she knew she would've felt worse if she had continued their relationship when she knew her feelings had changed. 

Marjorine couldn't help her thoughts from bursting out as she looked at him. "I'm sorry, Ken. I-I didn't want to… my feelings…" She wiped at her face. "You deserve-" She couldn't finish her sentence as another sob racked through her.

Kenny leaned forward with a smile and this time she didn't move so he could place a kiss on her cheek. "I understand. I'll still love you," her heart sank, "whether you're my friend or my partner." He told her as he handed her a tissue.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as she

"It's okay, Marji."

They stayed silent after that. Marjorine slowly starting to become calm and wiping the rest of her tears away.

Kenny gave her a final hug before taking a step back with a crooked smile. "You think you'll be alright?"

She nodded. "I can distract myself. I still have to finish cleaning."

"Do you want me to check on you after work?"

She shook her head.

"Okay… I'll talk to Stan… and I'll try not to butt in between you two if he does something stupid. Unless you tell me to, of course."

Marjorine pressed her lips together and nodded again. 

"I should go before your parents get back. I have to get to work."

"Yeah."

He winked and backed out of the bathroom. "See ya, sweet cheeks."

She rolled her eyes at this with a smile. "See ya, Ken." She listened as he went down the stairs and left, the front door opening and closing.

She sat by herself in the bathroom, trying to urge herself to get up and finish cleaning. But she was just so stressed and in need of a break. Just a little break. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning against the toilet, letting the silence ease her mind.

Though, the silence didn't last long. The house phone began to ring and she opened her eyes, flinching at the bright lights of the bathroom. Her father was calling again. Her break didn't last as long as she wanted it to, but maybe that was for the best. She took a deep breath. She had to keep it hidden again, only for a little longer, like Kenny had said. She moved to go downstairs towards the ringing. She made sure the door was locked and moved to the phone. She picked it up, just on time. “Stotch Residence.”

[hwaightme]

Your fan, Hongjoong (part 1)

(part 2) (your fan ml)

👘 pairing: hongjoong x fashion designer!reader 👘 genre: romance, fluff, mutual pining 👘 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if hongjoong was stanning you 👘 wordcount: 5.5k (help) 👘 warnings/tags: language, radio shows, reader is goth, goth subculture, a bit of mutual pining, seonghwa aries rage, san is sus, jealousy, DRAMA(rama), hongjoong is starstruck, reader has her own fashion house/brand, photoshoots, brand collabs, demon line boutta act up 👘 a/n: Hello fabulous people <3 Here we have, the one, the only, the legendary, Hongjoong next in the Your Fan, ___ series! Thank you so much for your love and support, reblogs, likes, asks and comments all welcome

"So alongside your brilliant songs, you are also well known for having breathtaking performances, with an edge that only ATEEZ can do. Could you elaborate on what exactly goes into creating your unique aesthetic?"

Hongjoong looked around the studio. Him and Yunho, being the resident radio DJs, had been invited onto a show to promote their newest comeback, and talk all things creative arts.

There had been a number of guests before them who he looked up to, from others in the music industry, to visual artists, writers, and designers. This was the way in which he had discovered new changemakers, and got to know those stars he had deemed 'unreachable'. Breathtaking, but there to be admired from a distance.

"I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of the amazing designers and stylists that we work with. Really, without them none of this would be possible and ATEEZ would not be the same."

"Definitely, with each stage and comeback, it seems that there is no end to just how much they, and you, can wow the world. Now, there is a particular fashion house that ATEEZ has been collaborating with recently, could you tell us more about that?"

Now that was an interesting direction to steer into. This was very new on the horizon for ATEEZ, and few media had covered this so far. Hongjoong perked up, forgetting the tranquility that he had to normally adopt for such shows, instead letting himself bask in the rays of his passions.

More specifically, your brand. He had known of its existence, thanks to a serendipitous selection by his stylist, before he had even figured out who the brain behind the art was. He discovered the connection entirely by accident - through this radio show.

You had come in for an interview, much like Hongjoong and Yunho, and sat in one of these seats, telling your story. This same man who was asking them questions, had conversed with you. This appearance was like Hongjoong's little moment to connect with his unreachable star.

You were notoriously elusive, so public appearances were few and far between, and this explained why he had initially not even associated you and the brand together. But as it turned out, that had been the point. The lore was strong in this one.

You had explained during the show that you felt no need for your personal image to be connected to the brand itself, as the garments and those who wore them were the real imagemakers. You had also shown a deep understanding of the subcultures from which you took inspiration and, yourself, followed, diving into legends who had pioneered their popularisation over the decades. In all honestly, that had him hooked, and left him wanting to learn more about how your mind worked.

"Ah yes, more than happy! ARNURI is a brand that we only recently started working with, and could not be more happy. The brand has a world view and prides itself on destroying boundaries in fashion. There is no gender, no size, no limit to what can be achieved. It actually takes inspiration from the variety that is within goth subculture and totally redefines what is meant by luxury. I mean, their slogan is 'lead by antithesis' after all."

He had paraphrased your introductory speech from one of your first exhibitions after you had your big break at one of the Fashion Weeks. It had been a solo show, organised outside of any specific season, every detail paying homeage to what had been advertised as 'embracing the darkness of nature'. For this show, you had scouted models among your friends, among the myriad of citizens of Seoul, and used those same city streets as your catwalk.

Maybe the reason why that particular event had spoken to Hongjoong was because it reminded him of the street busking he had done in his early days. The days of when one risked it all for a future that was not guaranteed, simply because they had hope.

Hongjoong could go on, but Yunho's shift to balancing his head on his hand as he rested his eyes on the captain, and batted his eyelids like a Disney princess made him stop abruptly.

Not that the host had noticed.

"Ah yes! And isn't the name, ARNURI, a play on "Our World?"

"Uh, yeah!" caught off-guard by the follow-up since he was trying to telepathically communicated to Yunho to cut whatever he was trying to do out, he stumbled over his words a little. But it was easy enough to settle back in once he thought of the moment KQ management had shared the official communications between the two companies with him.

"So it was quite funny when the brand approached us for this, they actually quoted our song 'New World'. Really if it were up to me I wouldn't even ask for a portfolio at that point."

"Of course you wouldn't..." Yunho whispered, leaning away from the mic so it barely caught, serving like background noise more than anything.

Hongjoong's head snapped in the other member's direction, but he was met with legendary nonchalance. Truly, the epitome of 'it's not awkward unless you make it awkward'. The guy even raised an eyebrow back at him as though Hongjoong was acting out of line.

"That is magnificent, it was meant to be! Maybe there are some ATINY in the company!"

"Oh we wish!" Yunho interjected, a chuckle escaping him as he glanced in Hongjoong's direction.

"Well, we are very much looking forward to seeing more of these fantastic designs, and the photoshoot that ATEEZ will be doing with ARNURI! Maybe you will be able to create some items together? Can ATINY hope for a new line in the future?"

"Hah, I do enjoy altering clothing and really letting creativity run free, but I am looking forward to the learning-".

"Oh yeah, Hongjoong has been a fan of the brand for quite some time, so finding out that we are now working together is a dream come true!"

Hongjoong lowered his eyes and let his fingers flitter across the table in front of him. There went his opportunity to be all slick and cool. Or was he over-reacting? Again, Yunho was unreadable.

The host then quickly rounded off that segment of the discussion, and cut to an ATEEZ song break, in honour of the guests.

Confirming that the mics were indeed off and he wasn't about to cuss out the entire nation, Hongjoong turned to his 6'1'' headache and hissed:

"Let's keep this about ATEEZ, shall we?"

"Why so serious, bro? Don't you like ARNURI?"

That, he did. The problem was that it was no longer just ARNURI he liked. To borrow some fandom-speak, he had abandoned the 'casual fan' territory, and had found himself quite a few clothing items and accessories-deep, and with a bias.

And since he would rather have Yeosang feeding him sour candy than revealing that he liked ARNURI more than he probably should, any joke in that direction was like an arrow that he felt the desperate need to dodge.

"Yeah, of course I do. I mean, we are working with them right?"

"Riiiight. And you are wearing their jacket. That you literally do not let anyone touch."

"What? I like clothes."

"And you keep said jacket in a plastic bag from the dry cleaner's because suddenly you are Seonghwa two point oh."

"Is that not... normal?"

"Rich to ask for a person who spray paints shoes in the living room at three in the morning."

"Hey I ventilate."

"BY TURNING ON THE EXHAUST VENT IN THE KITCHEN?"

"Shh, Yunho, we good. We can discuss this later-"

"Oh no I like your discomfort shawty talk to me."

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. This kid with his surprise attacks. Before he could think of a way to get himself out of the hole he dug, the host was suddenly showing that they had thirty seconds before going live. So he settled for:

"We'll continue this conversation later."

"And I chose Seonghwa over you."

"Choosing violence... I swear to-"

"And we are back! I hope you, dear listeners, enjoyed the wonderful-"

You paused the podcast. So, your personal assistant was not kidding when she ran into your office, waving her phone side to side as though she was at a concert, saying that Kim Hongjoong knew a lot more about ARNURI than you assumed.

Really sometimes you thought you hired her not for her abilities as a PA, but because she made you feel a tiny bit more sane. But at the same time, you were one in the same - who was listening to the recorded radio broadcast right after she left your office, reduced to a fit of giggles, sitting in total solitude? You.

Quite the contrast to how you normally were - zoned out due to exhaustion, brutal because that was how your business worked, or totally unreachable because 'the vibe was right and you were in a creative flow state'.

But this was how you got that bread. And had taken ARNURI to new heights. You continuously sacrificed yourself for the art.

There had never been another option for you - ever since you were a kid there was only one thing you were interested in, and that was fashion. You were that one kid who shamelessly stole (and wore) her parents' and siblings' clothing, modifying it so that it looked more like you.

You had 're-designed' your school uniform which had nearly led to your suspension. To this day you were confident you had done the right thing remaking the outfit to being pitch black - it was not your fault that the school had no sense of taste and had chosen such a horrid shade of grey.

And aside from becoming the 'adopted child' of some goth clubs in the city, you had crashed fashion show after fashion show to just see how the legends did it. You were taken by the stark contrast between what was classically accepted and popular on the runways versus the enchanting amalgamation of Victorian era dress, New Romantic, punk and new wave.

You had sworn to yourself that if there was one thing you were going to do, it was be one of the designers to fuse the worlds together. So you gave all you had to this dream. You had completed fashion school, worked in Finland to immerse yourself in the nation's vibrant, borderline mainstream goth scene, and had participated in many art exhibitions and avante garde fashion shows to make yourself known.

This was your calling. Your everything. So when you finally managed to get your brand up and running, bringing your vision to South Korea, you were shamelessly promoting it as best you could. Sending samples, contacting influencers, knocking on all the doors until SOMEONE answered.

And that someone turned out to be a stylist at KQ Entertainment, working with a group called ATEEZ. After a few exchanges on Instagram, they had agreed to use a couple of items, and let the media do the promotional magic.

You were desperate, having not had much success in the country due to difficulty in finding early adopters of the brand, so you agreed.

Turned out it was a much better investment than you had initially thought. A few members had sported ARNURI wear for a fansign, and pictures from the event FLEW around the internet. Eventually, the clothing was discovered, and your site started getting more and more hits.

You assumed it was just a fluke, but that fluke turned into one of the members, who you learned to be Kim Hongjoong, starting to make regular appearances in ARNURI, especially when it was evident that he had the final say in what to wear - airport looks, more casual events... black-clad, supporting you more than he could imagine.

Inadvertently, he had turned into a motivation for you. He had given you the hope that you could reach the stars if you so desired, and so you began to build up.

Season after season, you worked tirelessly, and eventually broke into Seoul Fashion Week. Your daring showcase of your 'ANTITHESIS' collection had gathered a large audience, and soon enough, you had to step into the spotlight, and reveal your identity.

You could remember it as clear as day, 'She Sells Sanctuary' by The Cult roaring in the background as you stepped out, every bit ARNURI, an overnight neo-goth sensation.

As your brand got bigger and bigger, and you were now leading a business of nearly 100 people strong, you had to become colder and more distant. It was a sort of self-preservation, since fashion was not an industry where one could escape criticism and blatant slander, especially when your primary goal was to be yourself.

But that one idol. The one who had agreed to wear your brand, and then continued to do so voluntarily, Kim Hongjoong, still remained special to you. He was your quiet encouragement.

So when you heard from your marketing and communications team that they had scouted out an opportunity to work with ATEEZ, you gave them the green light almost instantly, and much to their surprise, participated in crafting out the perfect proposal.

And when you received an agreement and contracts in response, you needed to excuse yourself and locked yourself in your studio, letting yourself squeal. Just a bit. And then walked back out - she is beauty she is grace.

The first stage of the collaboration was going to be a nice and simple photoshoot. You said simple but you were running around the building like a headless chicken making sure everything was ready.

It was going to be for a new line, 'PHANTASMOS', an ode to phantasmagoria, horror theatre and the portrayal of all things fantastic, strange and ghoulish. And who would be a better group of models than ATEEZ?

As the day approached, Hongjoong was becoming considerably more nervous, and that was only exacerbated by the announcement that you personally would be attending the shoot.

He did not want to come across as a fool of some sort, wanted to be a serious leader, really leave the impression that he meant business. To him, you were elegance itself, a tranquil beauty in black, and he wanted to match that to the best of his ability.

Which was exactly why he had turned his and Seonghwa's dorm into a fabric skip, with shirts, trousers, t-shirts... all of his prized possessions were strewn around the perimeter and occupied nearly every inch of the floor. Hell, even his customised Doc Martens were lying miserably on his bed.

Just as he was contemplating between a blazer with lines of safety pins as decal on the lapels or a classic leather jacket with more zippers than ways his children could annoy him, Seonghwa returned from his trip to the LEGO store.

Hongjoong had never seen every single stage of grief flash across a person's face in one second. But there it was. He gave the eldest member a sheepish grin, subconsciously cowering away closer to the windows - as far away from the evidently not too pleased Seonghwa.

"Kim. Hong. Joong. What kind of fuckery is this?"

"Oh. OH! Amy Winehouse! Yes, big fan, that's uh, that's Me & Mr. Jones right?"

"I will use you as a broom stick Joong."

"Look I just got carried-"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU? PLEASE LET ME KEEP AT LEAST SOME OF MY NERVE CELLS!"

"What's happening- oh Joongie is in trouble~" Mingi poked his head in through the door, making it look as though it was the Teletubbies sun floating above Seonghwa's shoulder.

Hongjoong really wished he could laugh. He really did. But he was afraid he was about to be forced to eat the starship that his roommate bought.

So much for trying to be 'chic' and impressing you. Now he had the goal of making it to the shoot in one piece.

"Mingi. Exit. Now." Seonghwa commanded, jaw clenched, which made the younger member quite literally bolt, slamming the door so hard that the items that were hanging on the stuck-on hooks slid off and fell behind Seonghwa.

There was a mass meeting audible right outside of the room, and a very distinct seagull laugh penetrated the walls. Hongjoong cursed his bad timing. Had he only started early, maybe he would have had time to shove at least some of the items under the bunk so it didn't look too bad.

"Right. You know what. I am zen. I am the calmest of the calm. You take care of others, I take care of you. Right? Now. Wait, you know what I need to just-"

Seonghwa picked up a large pillow off one of the beds, eyed it, looked at Hongjoong once more, and then PUNCHED it with blinding rage, sending it flying right back into the bed.

"Okay now I am fine. Care to explain when you were planning to sort this shit out?"

There was another wave of mumbles outside, to which Seonghwa responded by making the door fly open and shouting out "we are having a VERY IMPORTANT CONVERSATION."

Before closing the door entirely, a quiet comment from Yeosang could be overheard: "they're getting divorced in there," leading to some giggles, and pitter-patter of footsteps away from the door. They probably just chose a slightly different location to camp and snoop.

Hongjoong decided to sink into one of the clothes piles, motioning for Seonghwa to take a seat next to him. He was in a dilemma, unsure of what sort of explanation would be the most effective for Seonghwa. So he just settled for the truth.

"You know the shoot that we are going to do?" he began, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes, I do. What, is the aesthetic landfill-chic?" Seonghwa motioned at the explosion over the room.

"No, not at all! Don't even. You have seen the clothing, right?"

"Of course, I wore ARNURI before. Must say, very flattering. And fashionable. That one overcoat made me feel like a vampire prince."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment on that. Seonghwa was Seonghwa, he had his own agenda and his own interpretations.

"Right, so... well, you know I have a lot of ARNURI stuff? It's not just that... I have um... sort of become a... fan? Of the designer? L/N Y/N? She is just... her vision... her style is just... yeah she is great."

"Oh my gosh my boy Kim Hongjoong actually wants to meet someone outside of ATEEZ, this is legendary, I should post this on Universe."

"What in the- hey I meet people! And don't you dare"

"When, mister 'I don't really have many friends' and literally getting jealous over me talking to Minho from Stray Kids?"

"Hey, being a best friend is a responsibility, and you are my best friend!"

"Oh wait... I get it... I don't think you are aiming for friendship here... isn't that right?" a grin started spreading over Seonghwa's face as he looked like he discovered a new planet.

"I am just a fan of hers! Don't twist this!"

"Sure... okay now I get... this," he gave a judgmental side eye to the pile of sweaters that had made their home right by his display cabinet. "You are like a middle schooler before a first date, I swear. This is definitely because she's going to be there, right?"

"You know what? Yes, yes it is. And I might not have had my growth spurt yet but I am not a middle schooler." Hongjoong said, standing up as straight as possible, putting his hands on his hips.

"That's exactly what an angsty middle schooler would say." Seonghwa looked him up and down, stifling a laugh.

"You are on a power trip aren't you?"

"Hell yeah I am, and I will be for the entire shoot and beyond."

"Park Seonghwa why you do this to ME?"

"If you don't want the others to get the details I have an offer."

This made Hongjoong stop on his tracks and retract his 'leader card'. He did not want to lose face in front of the 'teezer crew entirely, so keeping this information in confidence was enticing.

"Yes?"

"First off, clean your shit. And second, I get that spot on the dresser for the Imperial All Terrain Armoured Transport model I've been hunting down."

"First, deal. Second, say that one more fucking time dude I dare you."

"IMPERIAL ALL TERRAIN ARMOURED TRANSPORT, ALSO KNOWN AS THE AT-AT WALKER, IS A FOUR-LEGGED TRANSPORT AND COMBAT VEHICLE USED BY THE IMPERIAL GROUND FO-"

"Did you legit memorise Wikipedia or something?"

"May the force be with you, bitch. Now you clean, I will go chill outside so I don't have an aneurysm because of how you do it. And by the way, I'd pick the leather jacket if I were you. Classic, timeless and looks good."

"Thank you man, you are the best."

"I know, now impress me with how you can make this room spotless."

And with that, Seonghwa left Hongjoong alone in the room. From what he could hear, there was a circus outside, with the other members having gathered around, interrogating about what had just unfolded. but Seonghwa was keeping his word, for now at least. He knew that he did not have to try too hard, since Hongjoong would probably expose himself as soon as he were to see you anyways.

And Seonghwa was more than right. The next day, when ATEEZ arrived to the studio, Hongjoong was very jittery. Alert to any and all people and sounds, he was looking around as if he was expecting someone - well he definitely was. As soon as they stepped into the ARNURI office, he was convinced that you could be around any corner.

The other members were beginning to catch on that this hyung was acting odd, to the point where Yeosang commented on Hongjoong looking like he was playing Alien Isolation in real life. The reference flew right over the leader's head, but he tried his best to tone his Pink Panther-style snooping down.

And instead focus on the many photos that decorated the walls of your house of fashion. Memories of particularly memorable parts of a show, awards, red carpet events... club nights, themed evenings, collaborations... this was your life. Right there, immortalised in tasteful monochrome.

The boys were in awe of the refined interior - strictly monochromatic, any accents in the otherwise white rooms and corridors were done using the colour black. Although it was not a rule by any means (in fact, you encouraged being as daring as one wanted), the majority of ARNURI employees were clad in the colour, fitting right into the brand and the aesthetics.

They were led up a couple of flights of stairs, and as they were making their way down one corridor, Hongjoong began to catch snippets of lively conversation, the occasional staff gliding a clothing rack past them or across the hallway, and... shouts of 'yes ma'am'?

Initially he was confused, but as they were getting closer to the photo studio, it clicked in his head: you were in there. Who else could be referred to as ma'am?

"Hey, Hongjoong, I think we are -actually- meant to... walk in the hall to do the shoot." Jongho walked up behind the leader, fake whispering, causing a round of chuckles from the other members. The only member who was not as smiley (except Hongjoong himself, that is) was Seonghwa, and it was because Hongjoong not so little infatuation was old news to him, and the room had been cleaned to a very satisfying level, much to his surprise.

"Woah no way, Jongho, that's insane. I was sure that this was a new technique or something..." Yunho piped in, glancing at Hongjoong, lips curling up.

He had a couple of sneaking suspicions about Hongjoong's behaviour whenever ARNURI, or more specifically the founder and lead designer, were mentioned or he was given the chance to gush about it.

The radio appearance was the closest to a confirmation that he could get - Hongjoong getting shy over being a big fan... what a sight to see. But seeing the post-discussion silent conversations between the two eldest members, and some signal exchanges while they were driving up to the venue really sealed the deal. There was something really fun going on with Hongjoong, and Yunho needed the deets.

For research purposes. And who was he to pass up on a ship in the making?

Finally, their manager, after finishing up a conversation with some of the relationship management staff from ARNURI, who had greeted them, decided to speed up the process and usher the kids in.

To soothe his nerves, Hongjoong picked at a bracelet he had selected for completing his 'first meeting and first impression' look. He had worn it many times over, and had even taken it with him on tour before, so it was a little ball of positive energy for him.

But nothing could prepare or prevent the Error that Hongjoong.exe experienced as he finally saw you in your element.

There was something spellbinding about the way you looked. Head to toe in your own creations, you were wearing an onyx-hued Victorian era inspired suit, matched with military boots that had immaculate metal detailing.

He could not stop staring, even if it could be perceived as rude, or too forward. There you were.

"Oh, guys, man down, man down, our captain's overboard~" Wooyoung taunted, shouldering San and Yeosang who were on either side of him.

It really was a sight to behold. Hongjoong, entirely captivated as you stood in the middle of the photo studio, guiding the entire room like a conductor would lead an orchestra.

He ignored the youngers' attempts to get his attention, much to their utter disbelief and resulting giddiness. If there was a definition of starstruck. This was it.

You appeared to have a pulse on EVERYTHING, down to the tiniest details, pointing out that there was a very specific prop missing, adjusting accessories, exchanging one scarf for another. It was the most organised chaos that Hongjoong had ever seen, and he was amazed at how you could keep it under control.

The star he had deemed unreachable was right there. Right in front of him.

"Joongie, I think you can leave your drooling until after the shoot. You don't want your makeup ruined."

"Oh Hwa is this how it is?" he looked at his friend in disbelief.

"I think you exposed yourself enough, no?"

"Ew, Hongjoong come on don't traumatise your wife." Wooyoung was not giving up on his mission to annoy Hongjoong into early retirement.

"GUYS please don't embarrass me-"

"Oh so you admit it?" San questioned, smirking like the devil.

"Admit what?"

"That you are doing some shady shit."

"Where did this even come from, San."

"So the studio then, no wonder you come back from there at like four in the morning."

"You guys are making me lose brain cells that I need to get instructions from the photographer." Yeosang deadpanned, nodding towards the set.

"I don't even want to begin imagining what sort of things you are thinking about, but I can assure you I will annihilate you if you start kindergarten season here." Hongjoong threatened but it fell short as Mingi grinned and joined in the ambush:

"Say 'aye' if you think this minion is invested into this shoot." the way he said it almost sounded like an innuendo, making Hongjoong scowl.

The most deafening collection of 'ayes' resounded around Hongjoong, and caused you to shift your focus to the newly arrived group. He noticed your expression soften, shoulders roll a little further back as you ambled towards them, the thuds of your boots setting his heart's pace.

"Ah good morning to you all! It is such a pleasure to be working with you. Did I make you wait for long?"

"Not at all, the pleasure is all ours." Hongjoong forced out, pushing the snickering members out of his sphere of attention.

"Great, well it is wonderful to finally meet you, I am L/N Y/N, the mad scientist behind ARNURI!"

"Very much the same here, Miss-"

"We'll be working closely enough to be informal, no?" you interjected before Hongjoong could call you by your last name.

Your allure was more powerful than he had hypothesised, to the point where some of the other members, more specifically San and Seonghwa, could not look away from you either - it seemed that you had the energy for attracting demons. The way you carried yourself, poised and courteous, demanded nothing less than respect.

At the same time, there was nothing demure about you. If anything, you resembled a cat that was ready to pounce any moment. As though there was a coil within you, permanently tense and even slightly dangerous. But that was thrilling.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, and corrected himself, "Yes, of course, sorry, Y/N. Shall we do the official greeting or-"

"Let's keep things personal for now, and once my lovely colleagues are done with the final checks, we can get started with eight makes one team." you winked, and suggested, quoting the greeting.

It was beyond entertaining for Wooyoung to see just how putty-like Hongjoong had become in your presence. He was just playing by your rules at this point, without questioning them. But it was understandable, who wouldn't get weak when their type was right in front of them and said 'let's keep things personal'?

"Well then let me be proper, I am San!" whilst you were exchanging words with Hongjoong, the member had time to slip from where he originally stood, and was now almost right in front of you, beaming.

Hongjoong chortled, but at the same time wanted to kick his fellow member in the shins because of the interception. What was his game here exactly?

Ever so politely, you greeted San back, not giving away that you were interested in continuing your chat with Hongjoong. It was second nature to you to blend one interaction into another without revealing any preferences - otherwise you would have a lot more enemies in the industry.

Then you simply proceeded to greet each ATEEZ member separately, your attention shifting entirely each time. You had a way of making people feel like, for even if just a moment, they were your universe.

It came from your tendency of seeing people both as perfect canvases, and as living works of art. You enjoyed the challenge that working off a person gave you, and this was mainly why you wanted to give each ATEEZ member a final once over - to see whether what you had planned was even right.

Each member gave you a unique impression, ranging from mischievous to shy to strictly professional. Seeing as you had never actively followed their activities, aside from their leader's, you were fascinated by the dynamic they were displaying, taking note for who you wanted to see in the camera together, and maybe even matching in some accessories.

Hongjoong was nearly holding his breath as he saw you reading ATEEZ like an open book. You were scanning everyone in the way he had seen renowned critics do while inspecting models on the runway. A Mona Lisa smile, and conclusions no one would know except yourself.

When it was finally his turn, he said his name as brightly as possible, faltering only towards the end as your eyes locked. He swore his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. It did not last long though, as you glanced down, and appeared to be incredibly happy because of something you spotted.

San was taking a particular interest in this silent mental tango, intently following your every move, while Wooyoung cupped his hand around his friend's ear and whispered.

"The bracelet."

"Ah, yes, it's uhm, should I say yours?"

"I guess so! It is from the limited edition MEDUSA collection. It suits you well. And the condition is impeccable though it's been what, a couple of years?"

"It's very precious to me, I try to take good care of it."

Seonghwa pursed his lips, the chaos of their dorm room clouding his vision. He imagined that you probably would go ballistic if you were to ever see clothing being treated in that way. Though Hongjoong did have separate storage for accessories and jewelry - that much was true.

"That means a lot. Thank you-" you turned as someone called out for you, alerting that everything was ready to go, "it's time, gentlemen, let's get this party started!"

As you clasped your hands together and moved away to join the lead photographer, allowing stylists to guide the group away and begin working their magic, San peered at Hongjoong once more.

When he made sure everyone else was out of earshot, he placed a hand on the captain's shoulder, and muttered:

"If you don't ask her out, I will. No hierarchy on this battle field."

[evilbihan]

Criticism does not equal hate.

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang are both equally full of shit for trying to kill each other.

They're brothers, for god's sake. They shouldn't be spilling each other's blood. Both are taking it too far. Both have done atrocious things to each other. Both are equally guilty. Neither of them is fully good or fully evil.

No one is putting Kuai Liang, Tomas or Takeda down to uplift Bi-Han.

In fact, the opposite is the case.

Kuai Liang's attempt at fratricide is being glorified for no other reason than him being the writer's and the fandom's favorite, while Bi-Han is being demonized for scarring his brother.

But both are in the wrong.

And Takeda?

Tell me he's not a former criminal who enjoyed his lifestyle and tried multiple times to go back to it even after being saved. Tell me pointing that out is wrong when it's literally what his own bio says. Tell me how quoting that and saying it makes him a character with questionable morals is hate.

Bi-Han has done awful things. Bi-Han will continue to do awful things.

No one ever said he was a saint. No one ever said he was better than his brothers, better than Takeda, better than any other character on the roster. That's what you chose to read into it.

All we "delusional" Bi-Han stans advocate against is the ridiculous demonization of his character.

If criticism is hate to you, maybe look up the definiton of each of those words. You might end up surprised that your own post classifies as hate since it's generalizing a group of people in a quite tasteless way.

I know I'm never beating the "biased" accusations and I'm not trying to anymore but I assure you I'm the last person on this godforsaken hellsite that would call Bi-Han a saint who has never done any wrong.

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 4

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, OMC Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes), alcohol as a coping mechanism, season 1 Lydia behavior (her comments on addiction are wrong and insensitive and she's knows it) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: Your life somehow becomes further entangled with Stiles and Scott's strange secret world, and Lydia is concerned in her own aggressive way. 

A/N: this is in fact a scott mccall stan account. i love that boy like he's my own. you can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

The drive home was ultimately uneventful. No need for tasers, silver bullets, or wolfsbane goop. You would need to get gas before you left for school in the morning, but you supposed that was a relatively minor inconvenience when the other end of the scale was being torn apart by a fanged monster. 

Your jaw cracked with an aggressive yawn as you slowly stumbled through the garage door, fumbling for the light switch on the wall. You flicked on the light and paused, shivering a little as the cold air from the vent above your head skimmed over your bare arms. After a moment of hesitation, when that little persistent wriggling in your ear wouldn’t go away, you ducked back down the concrete steps to poke around the garbage can. Underneath a few Styrofoam take-out boxes, there were four empty beer bottles. The glass bottles clinked against each other as you nudged them out of the way, unearthing the real object of your paranoia. A drained bottle of 100-proof rye whiskey was cradled between two sacks of trash from the night before. You just stared at the bottles, heart and lungs wound tight, and then you dropped the lid back on top of the can.  

When you reentered the house, you were careful to keep the noise to a minimum. It wasn’t that late, only a little past nine, but you didn’t want to disrupt your dad’s slumber. Usually, he was a night owl—which, of course, was really just a pretty way of saying chronic insomniac, another thing you’d inherited from him—but it’d been a hard liquor night. Your dad always went to bed early on hard liquor nights. You didn’t know if he actually slept or if he stared at the ceiling, watching memories play on spackle until dawn streamed through the cracks in the blinds. Probably the first. You hadn’t ever heard him cry through the thin walls, not even once. You, however, couldn’t ever stop crying, not on the nights you trembled for something potent enough to mask the scent of the coconut oil your mom used to remove her makeup. The echoes of your mother had seeped into the walls, saturated the insulation with the faint sounds of the 70s pop rock vinyls she put on when she was in a good mood. They faded sometimes, but they always came back. You desperately hoped, and you hopelessly feared, that they always would. 

You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hands aggressively and slipped under the covers, still in your plaid skirt and black t-shirt. Mascara smeared against your silk pillowcase, blurred your vision as it melted into your waterline. You stared at the wall until the silver swirls in the teal wallpaper started to sway. The teal was so dark it almost looked velvet with the lights off, and you had a heavy-eyed impulse to stroke it, but your hand was too leadened to lift. 

Your lids slipped shut, and in the haze between consciousness and slumber you felt the vague sensation of something solid against the back of your head. You murmured something incomprehensible and pulled your arms closer to your chest, taking in a breath of sharp whisky and a familiar woody cologne. You kept your eyes closed, and the warm weight cupped your skull for a moment. There was a brief kiss pressed against the top of your head and then the warmth was gone. Something large caught in your throat, and you squeezed your eyelids until your forehead wrinkled, forcing yourself to fall into a restless sleep filled with dreams of pancakes swimming in bourbon and howling beasts. 

Stiles was waiting for you by your locker when you arrived at school the next day. His friend—Scott, you reminded herself—was leaning against the locker next to him. Scott’s eyelids were heavy, and there was a coolness underneath them that stained his tan skin with a swathe of puce. Puce: From the French term ‘couleur puce,’ meaning ‘flea color.’  You dug your incisor into your tongue once you recognized that the intrusive internal narration was in Stiles’s voice. You didn’t even know if he spoke French, but it seemed like the kind of weird detail he’d know. You ran your tongue over your teeth and shoved your fists into your jacket pockets, thumb poking through the hole in the lining from previous twiddling—when the hell did you start thinking about the kinds of things Stiles would and wouldn’t know?  

You pivoted sharply, and your traitorous leather boots ruined your attempted exit when they squeaked against the freshly waxed floor. Stiles’s head popped up from his hushed conversation with Scott, and he waved vigorously when he made eye contact with you, “Hey! C’mere!”

You tipped your gaze towards the tiled ceiling and sighed. It was inevitable, really; you had to get your English binder before homeroom—homeroom, yet another reason to hate Wednesdays. It was one of your few classes with Lydia, and there wasn’t ever any actual teaching to distract you from the disgusting goo-goo eyes she gave her boyfriend. Studying was your only respite.

“Patience,” you nudged Stiles out of the way and spun your combination into the padlock, “work on it. It’s an essential skill.”

Stiles scoffed and leaned his shoulder against the locker next to yours, arms folded over his chest, “Essential. There’s nothing essential about wasting time. It’s actually unvirtuous if you think about it.” 

You swung her locker door open, blocking out Stiles’s frown, and rested your backpack on your knee so that you could unzip it. “Was there a point in there somewhere, or are you stalking me again?”

Stiles ducked around the locker door and placed his hands on Scott’s shoulders, shoving him a little closer to you, “Scott had a question for you.”

Scott’s eyes didn’t look so tired when he reared his head back to stare at Stiles. They had an intense conversation for a moment. There weren’t any words exchanged, but you got the gist: Scott was pissed, and Stiles was relentless. In the end, Scott lost the battle and swallowed thickly, “So, uh, you know a lot about supernatural stuff. That’s cool.” Stiles rolled his eyes and smacked the back of Scott’s head. Scott glared at him before mumbling, “Do you have any more of that wolfsbane…potion?” towards his muddy Converse. 

You directed your annoyance over Scott’s shoulder, more than confident that the real culprit of this request was the idiot avoiding your eye-line. “What? You already burned through your goo sample? Are the streets finally free from the demon beast of Beacon Hills?”

Stiles held up his hands and shook his head, “This is all Scott. See, me, I’m a fan of not being a greedy little bastard, but Scott—” This time Scott smacked Stiles with a resounding thwack. Stiles rubbed his shoulder, mouth agawk with indignation. 

“He…dropped it.” Scott glowered at the side of Stiles’s face, “‘Doing something stupid.” 

You smirked, “Sounds about right.” You shoved your binder into your backpack and brushed your hairs out of your eyes, “I’d give it all away for free, but it’s not up to me. Sorry.” Zipping your backpack shut, you slung one of the straps over your shoulder and shrugged, “You could always buy some more, but I’d strongly advise against such a dumb financial investment.”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck and gave you a smile. It was small but riddled with warmth—like he just couldn’t help it, like sunshine leaked through every one of his pores, and you were filled with the sudden urge to buy the stupid wolfsbane gunk for him. “That’s what I figured,” Scott looked at Stiles pointedly. His voice dropped a few octaves and a growl slipped into the end of his sentence, “But someone thought we should ask anyway.” 

The bell rang, and Scott flinched, smashing one of his ears into his shoulder. He turned around, a little dazed, and Stiles trailed after him after giving her a distracted wave. As you watched them leave, a parasitic impulse wrangled through your throat, prying the hinge of your jaw open as you shouted, “Hey!” The hallway was abuzz with various conversations and clomping feet, but your voice was still a bit too loud for the short distance between you and definitely too urgent for 7:45 in the morning. 

Stiles turned around first, almost tripping over his sneakers, and then he yanked on the scarlet hood of Scott’s jacket until he stopped too. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and licked your bottom lip, suddenly realizing how dry it was. “I, uh,” you sighed and took a few steps forward so that you didn’t have to raise your voice, “I could talk to Maggie. I bet she’d cut you a deal if I asked.” You let out a little laugh and raked your fingers through your hair, accidentally dislodging the satin bow tying your hair out of your face. “I know, actually. I know she’d give you some for free. She’s a terrible business woman.” 

Scott’s smile put the moon to shame, and Stiles looked like he’d been waiting for you to change your mind since the moment you told them no—when the hell did he start thinking about what you would and wouldn’t do? 

“That would be awesome,” Scott ducked down to grab your black ribbon and held it out to you with an open palm, “thank you. I’d owe you big time.”

Stiles looped his arm around Scott’s shoulders and smirked, “We’d. We’d owe you. I’ll stop by the store and bless you with my scintillating conversation sometime.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled softly at Scott, taking your ribbon from his hand. You attempted to tie your hair back in a neat bow, but it was difficult without a mirror. You assumed it was halfway decent because Stiles didn’t take the opportunity to tease you—you, on the other hand, had no such qualms about mocking him. You smiled at Stiles, far too sweetly to be considered congenial, and sneered, “Seriously. Don’t worry about it.” 

Stiles’s eyes narrowed, face curved around a smirk that screamed trouble, and Scott slapped his hand over Stiles’s mouth before he could say something to make you reconsider, “Thanks again. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to pay you back. Name it, and we’re there.” Stiles winked at you with a glint in his eye that was as vexing as it was bright, and Scott rolled his eyes as he hauled him away by the nylon material of his backpack, “C’mon, dude. My mom’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

You watched Stiles’s buzzed head bob amidst the congested crowd of students, all shoving each other in their rush to get to class on time, until you couldn’t hear his surly complaints anymore. You rubbed your hand over your chapped lips, swallowing hollowly, like you could erase every impulsive word that’d spilt from your stupid mouth.

You were still thinking about what you’d gotten yourself into when you walked into Mrs. Farias’s classroom—and that must be why you forgot your copy of Metamorphosis in your locker. You groaned internally and dropped your forehead against your desk, bumping it against the cool laminate finish a few times, before ducking out the door with a hall pass. 

The halls were empty—silent too. You could hear your own footsteps and the tick of the large clock above the main office as you walked around the corner, and then, just as you approached the hallway your locker was in, you heard something else. Voices. Angry voices. One familiar—your face scrunched as the recognition wriggled through your ears to your brain—and one not. You cautiously glanced around the corner and frowned. Jackson, Lydia’s arrogant prick of a boyfriend, was talking to a hulking, leather-clad stranger—or rather infuriating him based on the murderous look in the man’s dark eyes. 

The stranger looked a good five years too old to be in a high school hallway, but the grown-out stubble and over-defined muscles weren’t of immediate concern. You were more focused on the color of his face. His skin was pale, clammy, and quite honestly a little corpse-like thanks to the purply-blue tinge carving out the hollows of his face. You assumed that he was too strung-out to care if anyone noticed their altercation because you could hear him from halfway across the hall. 

“Where’s Scott McCall?” His voice was deep and gravelly, as expected, but there was a desperate undertone you hadn’t anticipated.

You could only see the back of Jackson’s head, but you knew exactly what his face was doing when he puffed out his chest and folded his arms—no one else could make a smirk look quite so punchable. It was a gift, truly. “And why should I tell you?” “Because I asked you politely,” the man leaned forward, bared his canines, and you couldn’t believe that Jackson didn’t even flinch, “and I only do that once.”

“Okay, tough guy,” Jackson sneered, meeting the man’s challenge with another step forward and a shrug that reeked of false-superiority, “how ‘bout I help you find him if you tell me what you’re selling him. What is it? Dianabol? HGH?”

“Steroids,” the man’s voice was dry, and if he didn’t look like he was about to double over and puke all over the floor, you’d say the menacing glimmer in his eyes was a little amused. 

“No, Girl Scout cookies. What the hell do you think I’m talking about?” Jackson tutted, maddeningly haughty, and shook his head, “By the way, whatever it is you’re selling, I’d stop sampling the merchandise.” He let out a low patronizing whistle, and you kind of hoped that the stranger would suckerpunch him in the throat for it. “You look wrecked.”

The man didn’t punch him. Instead, he pushed himself off of the locker he was slumped against and started staggering stiffly down the hall, “I’ll find him myself.”

Jackson grabbed onto his broad shoulder and yanked. The veins in his bicep bulged with the strength of grasp, “We’re not done here.”

Your limbs suddenly remembered how to function. You ducked back behind the brick wall and closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable sounds of bone colliding into flesh. Your right eye cracked open a sliver when the noise never came. Instead, there was a loud thud and the echo of clanging metal. You peeked around the corner again and froze, eyes wide and throat dry. Jackson was pinned against a locker by his neck. You’d already noticed that the stranger was tall, but you didn’t truly realize just how large he was until now. Jackson was a lot of things, but he wasn’t small. He was captain of the lacrosse team—everyone within a ten-mile radius knew that thanks to his constant reminders—and if anyone on campus was taking steroids, he would’ve been your first guess. But next to this sickly beast of a man, Jackson looked meek and mousey, and you didn’t even get to savor it. After a brief moment, no more than a second, Jackson’s assailant sniffed the air and slowly turned his head in your direction. It wasn’t an accident; he wasn’t surveying his surroundings. His eyes landed on yours, and he didn’t look the least bit surprised. 

The man’s irises were dark, nearly black, and they didn’t stray from your face. You forgot how to breathe, feeling distinctly like a rabbit trapped in a fox den as your heartbeat hammered against your ribs. He spared you after a few seconds of paralyzing eye-contact and turned his petrifying gaze back to Jackson’s neck. You recoiled, slipping back to your spot around the wall, and pressed your back against the bricks until the sound of your heartbeat wasn’t so loud in your ears. 

When you found the courage to look down the hall again, the man was gone, and Jackson was bleeding from the back of his neck. There were four distinct punctures along his cervical spine, trickling crimson droplets onto the stark white collar of his polo. The gouges were small, almost like…nail marks. Baffling. This town was fuckin’ baffling.

You poured over the incident all day, barely conscious enough to take down notes and roll your eyes at Stiles’s badgering and bad jokes. You’d never been more ready for the final bell to ring, not even during sex education with the extraordinarily sweaty Mr. Peterson. 

You twisted your pendant around its onyx chain as you walked out of your last period, winding and unwinding the charm over and over again as you mulled over your thoughts. Scott didn’t seem like he was on drugs. You didn’t exactly know him, but he was the least aggressive person you’d ever met, and he had to be eternally patient if Stiles was his best friend. You spun the medallion again and shouldered your way through the cramped halls to the parking lot, scolding yourself. What Scott McCall did or did not inject into his bloodstream wasn’t any of your business…even if his alleged dealer looked like he was on death’s door and had a habit of throwing teenage boys around when he got mad. 

You’d just convinced yourself that you didn’t care what happened to Stiles’s best friend when a discord of honking stopped you in your tracks. You flitted your gaze around the parking lot, searching for the cause of obnoxiously loud cacophony; your shoulders wilted along with your resolve when you spotted the guilty party. The man from the hallway was sprawled on the asphalt, and Scott and Stiles were scrambling to help him off of the ground. 

Your feet reluctantly trudged towards the peculiar trio, arms tightly folded over your cropped sweater. You would’ve laughed at how wide Stiles’s eye stretched when he finally noticed your presence, but you were a little preoccupied with the fact that he was currently trying to stuff a ghoulish grown man into his front seat. You watched him struggle to hold up approximately 200 pounds of solid muscle with his spindly arms, absentmindedly lamenting that you couldn’t truly appreciate the humor of the situation. “Hey,” you slanted your head and searched Stiles’s face for any sign of an SOS signal, “you good?”

“Ayup,” Stiles nodded emphatically, and Scott shot you a weak thumbs-up from his squat next to his tipped-over bike. 

You looked between the two of them, waiting for the truth to crack through the awkward pretense, and narrowed your eyes, “You sure?” 

“We’re good,” the man barked from inside the jeep, teeth bared. It was a little less intimidating now that he was slumped over and at the mercy of a sixteen-year-old with a dork complex, but you still flinched. You couldn’t help it. It was a small twitch, but Scott still managed to track the minute movement from his low perch. He glared at the man, shockingly firm for such a sweet-faced boy, until the stranger stopped scowling at you. Mr. Sour Face turned his head towards the window and stared intensely at the hazy tree line over the hill. Your fingers relaxed. You hadn’t even realized that you’d dug your nails in your palms until the stinging stopped. 

Scott jumped to his feet and pulled his bike up by the handles, rushing through his weak explanation, “Stiles is just…doing me a favor. Derek needs a ride, and all I’ve got is my bike.”

Letting out a flimsy snort, your brow pinched, “So…he walked here?”

“Uh,” Scott squinted, and Stiles nodded behind him, “yeah?” 

You pursed your lips, ignoring all the students who’d started shouting over the beeping horns, and watched Derek grit his teeth and clench his fists through the dashboard window. You looked back at Stiles and chewed on your lip. Stiles was taller than you, but he was on the scrawnier side of lean and wouldn’t stand a chance against a man of Derek’s size—even if he was barely clinging to the rapidly fraying threads of consciousness. “I could use a ride to work,” you pulled the backseat door open before you could talk yourself out of it. 

Stiles lurched towards you and slammed the door shut, narrowly avoiding your fingers, “Normally, I would seize any opportunity to have you further indebted to me, but—that’s Lydia Martin.” His eyes bulged out of his head, and he leaned against his jeep, slipping down the blue frame as his legs went boneless, “Walking towards me. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

The prospect of riding in the same car with Mr. Resting Bitchface was being more appealing by the second. Lydia didn’t even look in Stiles’s direction. Her cutting green eyes were fixed on you and you alone. “Are you an idiot?” Lydia snatched your wrist, mauve manicure digging into the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, and yanked you back to the sidewalk.

“What?” you went brainless for a moment, taking in all the glory of an enraged Lydia Martin. 

Lydia’s cheeks were flushed pink from anger and adrenaline, “Or just suicidal?”

The shock had worn off. Now, you were thoroughly pissed, “What?”

Lydia’s eyebrows, perfectly tapered and freshly threaded, knitted together until she was in danger of developing a unibrow, “Do you have any idea who you were about to get in a car with?”

Your eyes flicked to the side, and it took gargantuan strength not to roll them too. “Stiles?”

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Lydia’s riptide of fury gave way to confusion, but her soft features sharpened abruptly when she returned her attention to your scowl, “I meant Derek Hale. Obviously.”

Your hip cocked to the side as you crossed your arms, “And?”

“And he’s a murder suspect,” Lydia’s lips curled into a vehement sneer. It was so strange to finally see it first-hand. Lydia had such a sweet face, cherub cheeks and doe eyes—a clever smile. She hadn’t quite mastered disdain when you were friends; the ice queen routine wasn’t performance ready until you’d drifted apart. It was an awful face, you decided; it completely erased the last few pieces of the Lydia you knew.

“In an animal attack,” you muttered under your breath. 

Evidently, it had been a long time since someone dared to disagree with the Lydia Martin because she was struck speechless. It didn’t last for long, but it was still satisfying. “He’s dangerous,” Lydia hissed. “He went completely off the deep end after his family died. Seriously, his life is like a textbook precursor to violent behavior; he’s a profiler’s wet dream.”

“Because his family died,” you repeated. The numbness eroded some of the snark in your voice. 

Lydia either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the glaze creeping over your eyes. She continued, barbarous and unashamed, “Because he watched them turn into charcoal, and his sister was just ripped in half. At best, he’s unstable—but his little hobby of trolling for minors is a bit of a red flag, don’t you think?”

“Charcoal,” you spoke—more of an echo really with its resonating hollowness. Your eyes were on Lydia’s face, but your mind was somewhere far away. A lifetime ago, with the ashes of everything you once knew. 

Lydia’s eyes went wide, and her mouth gaped into a perfect little ‘o.’ Her dainty fingers twitched by her sides, and then she smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in her flouncy mini-skirt. “Most of his family died in a fire,” her voice was much softer this time, a bit of tenderness accidentally rooting through the cracks in her veneer. Lydia looked away and gripped the thin strap of her handbag, “Accidental house fire. It was all over the news like five years ago.”

You stared at Lydia, and for the first time in the last four years, you didn’t miss her. For the first time in such a mind-numbingly long time, your anger strangled your heartache with a wrought-iron grip that felt a whole lot like hate. It was always going to be like this, you realized. You would just have to walk around with all these what-ifs, if-onlys, and what-really-happeneds needling your heart with every thud—always. You had to learn to live with this: knowing that Lydia was never going to apologize and that there would be no closure. Ever. 

“Right.” You laughed, shark-like, with your canines on display. You hoped it would make all your constants sharper. “So he’s gotta be a lunatic now.”

“Y/N…” It was surreal to hear your name out of Lydia’s mouth after so long. You didn’t know if you liked it, and, currently, you didn’t even know if you cared. Lydia chewed off what was left of her nude lipstick and then squared her shoulders, “So we’re just going to pretend that he wasn’t completely strung-out and totally embracing the heroin-chic aesthetic?”

You slanted your head a bit and then let out another serrated laugh. There wasn’t any point in having it out, you decided, because Lydia didn’t care. She got to move on and erase your entire existence—live her perfect, popular girl life without all this suffocating quicksand binding her to the past. Must be nice, you thought venomously, souring your tongue, stinging your eyes. Showers were probably just showers for Lydia. She didn’t singe her skin until the water went cold, imagining what she’d do, what she’d say—how she’d hurt her back. Must be so fucking nice.

“Lydia, I really don’t think you really want to get into all the things we’re pretending,” your voice was tight, strangled at the ends. You would not cry. You could not cry. Lydia sensed weakness like blood in the water, and you refused to give her the satisfaction. 

“Fine,” Lydia’s curls spilled down her back like strawberry wine as she pivoted in her designer heels, “ride off into the sunset with a 'roid-raging creep. Don’t act surprised when you turn up dead in a crack den.” 

Truthfully, Lydia had a point, but at this moment being contrary seemed far more important than being right. “It’s kind of difficult to act like anything when you’re dead,” you called, eyes zeroed-in on the back of her head as she slid into Jackson’s Porsche with a sensual grace you would never possess. Lydia was too far away to hear your retort, but you felt a little less like punching something after you said it. 

You didn’t notice that Stiles and Scott were gone until the threat of bitter tears stopped burning your sinuses. The last thing you needed was to cry like this upset you, even if the only nearby witness left on the vacant sidewalk was yourself. You scoured the parking lot for even a flash of powder blue, but the jeep was nowhere to be seen. Probably long gone by now—your spat with Lydia must have taken longer than you thought. It was certainly louder than you meant it to be. Little clusters of ambling students were looking at you a little too long to be casual, and the indiscreet whispering once they turned back to their friends forced your legs forward. 

You didn’t know where you were going when you started your car, but far, far away sounded pretty damn good.

[radioactive-earthshine]

I'm just curious, these are all characters I meet in FLESH AND BLOOD on a fairly regular basis. Sorry this is so DC focused, that is where I live.

[asksixerpines]

Welcome to the blog!

So this is a... Tumblr blog. And people from any place can talk to me from behind this screen? Fascinating!

On this blog, I'll answer asks in character as Ford Pines. Occasionally, I may draw Ford as if he is answering your question; don't expect it often though!

This blog is set to be after the ending of season 2 with additions from the Book of Bill in mind.

These askers...can they ask me anything?

I write Ford as aroace and bi, but canon and self ships or romantic asks are allowed. I'm open to billford and fiddauthor! Please do not send me any nsfw asks. This blog is run by a minor, be mindful and respect boundaries.

You are more than welcome to submit art, edits, writing, etc. for Ford under the Make a Journal Entry tab.

This blog is meant to be more centered around Ford, but I am open to asks from other characters! I'm most comfortable at this time with just sticking to Stan, Dipper, and Mabel as extras.

You can ask characters their own things, or ask them about Ford if he doesn't give you an answer you want.

I will not be attaching my own name to this blog (I might someday, currently undecided) but you can also submit ooc asks. Specify with adding ooc or ask-goose to your ask please.

I ask that you please be mindful of the fact that this blog is run by only one person! I may close the askbox after a certain amount of asks as it will take me time to get to all of them especially if I'd like to draw them out.

If need be, I'll add more onto this post later.