#the type where my esophagus is just made wrong

[planningisnotmystrength]

I have chronic stomach problems and that’s led to me having a weird relationship with food and eating in general but not always in a negative way. 

I have this weirdly anarchist approach to food sometimes. like, breakfast food is just food you eat for breakfast. only thing that sounds good is a cheeseburger? fuck it, we ball. you don’t feel like eating a whole meal? eat only snacky bits and random components, who gives a fuck?

as long as you’re checking the nutrition boxes and not inducing scurvy or anemia or something what does it matter if you eat waffles for dinner or spaghetti for breakfast? everything’s made up so you might as well make up a world where you’re not actively causing yourself harm for no good reason. 

[devilslinks]

# 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 !

— 𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗕 𝗙𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 | 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔, 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.

wc; ( 3.2k )

synopsis; your best friend, raihan and you find yourselves eager to get intoxicated in one another's company. what better place than a night-club, dim lights, the overwhelmin' musk of the various alcoholic beverages; it's every guy pairs wet dream. that is until raihan gets shit-faced and excuses himself to the restroom while he pukes up his spiked guts. only to return to watch his sister take you balls deep, down her throat.

a/n: no brain, only nessa and her magical throat 🤝

warnings. MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, family!au, raihan and nessa are siblings, club sex, intoxication, dirty talk, the name princess, deep throating, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, throat fucking, cum eating, flirty!nessa, jealous!raihan, exhibitionism, voyeurism.

euphoria.

that was the only word that came mind when raihan and you got involved in recreational activities like you did. galar was a go big or go home type of region, and the two of you stayed true to that motto. the itchy, messily thrown together suits that matched all the way down to the type of socks you had on— the overexcessive amounts of booze, and the loud music which just barely drowned out the fits of laughter and discussion littered throughout the packed club. as soon as the doors opened, flooding your senses with nothing but the sickly sweet, aroma of sex and other intoxicating chemicals; that's how you knew the had night begun.

the two of you had been indulging, before you arrived on the scene— time seemed to blur together with head-spinning speeds or come to a full halt at the worst of moments. you don't even know how long you'd been locking eyes with the transparent shapes and manufactured blurbs dancing across the wall a good, twenty, maybe thirty feet adjacent to your seat at the drink counter. the weight of something too heavy for your alcohol infused mind to register until the bar hostess was practically brewing with irritation at your non-compliance with her attempts to have you regain control of your dazed state; sat lazily in-between your pointer finger and thumb, respectively.

hell you don't even remember waddling over to the bar with the company you had brought with you. but you didn't mind, the painfully challenging to recall memories mattered not when there was already another drink swirling around the rim of your shot-glass. raihan's shifty frame wiggling in and out of your peripherals as you tug the half-empty cup to the skin of your lips, craning your head back to knock down whatever liquid remained at the bottom. the delicious burn of toxins coated the lining of your throat, trails of steamy fluid leaving their mark as the mystery liquor made it way down your esophagus. whatever it was, it packed a punch and wasted no time forcing your lips to curve into a bitter sneer— eyebrows shadowing your face in a sour demeanor, as you used the hem of your suit sleeve to whisk away any spilt mixture that tarnished your cherry red lips.

you hardly have the chance to open your mouth for a second time to address the swaying body, huddled closer the counter than it is to your own. raihan is a total mess, loopsy, and feverishly hot skin to compliment— he's stained a harsh, sickly green against his natural melanin tone. doubling over in either pain or the sudden flow of too many drinks pooling in his system; whatever the emotion he was enduring was, he wasted not a second longer before hustling off into the large gathering of people. disappearing before his lips could slur the final word, missing from his dialect.

“hh..h fuck- my stomach is gonna explode, i'll catch you-” his gravely tone churning into the backdrop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation; the familiar hum of lyrics to a song you couldn't quite place your finger on replaced whatever words raihan had previously gargled out before dashing off towards the public restrooms.

your head feels like it weighs a metric ton this late into the night, threatening to tumble forward as if your neck had lost any and all of it's support. your eyelids pulling down roughly over your eyes like window shades before the sudden wave of loneliness hit you like a truck. fiddling with the collar of your dress-shirt was entertaining enough to fill the void that was the now empty stool, where your best friend once resided. but that quick fix subsided rather easily and the once overwhelming presence of boredom had returned to take a seat.

and then, so did she.

“shit, rai- back so soon? you alright?” your vision was foggy and adorned with blurry bits here and there— but it was still evident enough to make out that, whoever was indeed now in your friend's seat, was not the person you had chauffeured to the club with.

“damn, do i really look, that bad? it's me, y/n. the painfully better looking sibling. what did that idiot put in your drink?” the speech is followed by a laugh. it was a warm and inviting chuckle, one that seemed to relax every muscle in your liquor tense body the moment she parted her spit silken lips. you had been in her company earlier that evening, which made it a tad easier for your incoherent mindset to process it. but nevertheless it was hard not to distinguish who the women paying you a visit was at this point, even if you hadn't engaged with her previously; nessa was infamous for those enchanting looks. and in your dumbified state, those gorgeous navy locks tied together by aquamarine highlights were one of a kind and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the room of normal presenting citizens. though your brain didn't want to pick-up any of your surroundings, you found it quite easy to fawn over her in that ebony dress and the way it hugged her curves in all the right places.

“fuck.. nes' when'd you get so.. so.” you couldn't even find the energy or hell, the words to cough up the remainder of the sentence, you were so taken aback by how stunning she was, even behind your bleary, drunk eyes. but nessa wasn't oblivious— you were sure she had picked up the hint you had layed out so bluntly, and the warm palm slowly inching up your clothed thigh secured that suspension for you.

“not even so much as a greeting? you didn't even buy me a drink first; asshole.”

her words are firm, yet so light hearted at the same time; but just enough to set your arousal over the edge. your headspace so vulnerable to teasing that you're certain she knew what she was doing to your conflicted mind and body. her sly fingers are enough to coax you to shuffle your bar-stool closer to her's— not a single word wriggled around your throat in response, instead the tangy after-tase of alcohol still heavy on your tongue distracted you and you were sure the whole bar could acknowledge your intoxicated musk.

her features held so many different emotions at once, as she pryed you for a reply— trying to tell you each one obscured behind that pretty face, way too quickly for you to decipher. her brows furrowed quizzically, one tilted slightly higher than the other as her half lidded doe-eyes stared up at you like prey at a final stand off with their predator; just humbly surrending their body to the circle of life.

“hah, you're one to.. talk, nes' just because 'm out of it- doesn't mean my numb skin can't feel your heavy hand toying with my waistband.” the both of you swiftly changed direction, heads leering down at nessa's free hand. you were infact correct, you observed as the woman swirled shapes into the expensive leather of your belt. pulling bits between her fingers now and then as she silently struggled with the metalic buckle. your groin swelled tightly, gripping your boxers closer to the fat bulge behind your suit pants; it would take an idiot not to take notice of the wrinkled fabric secured around your aching dick. her skin felt like a furnace, contrasting your slightly cooler temperature— but with her body pressing so desperately to yours, you were sure the warmth from her melted over onto your feverish flesh. the damp, sheen of anxious sweat made the fabric of your suit, dewy. sticking slightly against your hellish skin.

“mm, i guess i was wrong about the greeting part— hello there, you look happy to see me.” not a hint of shame obscured her voice, you're miserably watching nessa shift her weight as she now palms at the mound between your legs. you've seen countless renditions of this night loop in your head, but now that the scenario is a reality; it's agonizing to try to contain your primal urges, face to face. it's a chore not to profess all the vile things you wanna carry out with her, but she's already one step ahead. that glare is dangerous, it makes you feel like she's trying convey that the two of you are already in on something devious.

“let me take care of you.. y/n.”

“let me treat you, nessa.”

the both of you drawl out in what would be perfect unison if your mind wasn't foggy and running slower than usual. you had both finally voiced the elephant in the room, the one which was just positively dripping with thick tension up until this moment in time. you're still squirming under nessa's grip, she can feel you whine and pant everytime she gives your cock a light squeeze between her fingers and it's not long before the two of you are absent from the bar and clawing at one another's linen around the corner. closest to any vacant area within eye-shot. well, as vacant as a small room seperated from the bustling club-life can get.

did you think the night would come to a close with your friend's sister skillfully sucking the soul out of your sloppy cock? not in a million years, but you'd be damned if you didn't want it to end on any other note. nessa fell to her knees before the two of you even made it out of view— planting herself in-between your thighs like she was a trained professional; no flaws in her technique as her tongue slid obediently from her mouth and latches onto the moist fabric masking her mouth's destination. nessa's fingers are long and slender, as they snake up your hips and meet at the belt tangled around your waist. you can feel your cock pumping against the seams of your pants, the uncomfortable sensation making it appear as though you'd rip through the cloth if your cock was imprisoned a second longer.

with the head-splitting atmosphere of the club playlist stretching and stuffing your ears to the brim with fast pitched edm that made your skull pound and jitter. as well as the added hum of the gym leader whispering inaudible nothings against your bulge as she at last pushed your pants down, and past your ankles; material getting caught on the fancy design of your shoes. you felt like you were on the brink of death, but the enticing appeal of hooking up with your best friend's relative kept your iron-will alive long enough to rough it out and pass the irritation that came with being black-out drunk.

your storm of worries fizzled just as quickly as they sprung up, maybe it was the alcohol but you swear this girl had the hands of the divine; you were washed away into infatuation once more. nessa's teeth hike up your boxers until they meet the waistline, pulling down on the hem with a familiar aggressiveness as she relishes in the way your big dick pops to life and looms over her lustful features; all chubby 'n decorated with veins fer' her viewing pleasure.

“shit.. i'm gonna have so much fun with your cock. you wanna make your stupid slut already? my mouth is just asking for it.” the first piece is low and almost voiced as if it was meant for her ears only— but the second half is most definitely directed at you; as she tilts her head to plant a few delicate lovebites along the base of your shaft. fingers looping gracefully around your hilt as she admires the girth you carry.

“fuck..” you hiss, cock twitching violently as you pleaded with sinful eyes. she had barely started her reign over your dick before guttural groans and mewls slid past your lips. the sensation of her tiny tastebuds as they trailed over the little glob of pre-cum that drooled from your cockhead was insatiable. the sudden action sent your hips forward almost automatically, like they instinctively acted on impulse; it felt so right. merely a few inches breached past her lips but there was enough speed and prowess in your thrust to drag a surprise gag from the mouth attached to your dick.

impatience was on the horizon, the buzz from copious amounts of alcohol had knocked down a few pegs. you were now fully aware of the figure positioned at your feet like she was praying for a god, and soon you'd make her chant like she was being fucked by one as well. broad fingers clamped down, squishing both sides of her jaw while simultaneously easing your length deeper, and deeper down her gullet like your dick was her last meal on earth. you throw your head back before letting it fall forward against the wall, watching those desperate dark iris' pool with puddles of lust that seem to be neverending.

“come'on princess, you know how badly you want this-- you gonna let me ruin this pretty throat?” you thumb over her warm cheeks, eyes glossy and threatening to ruin the simple makeup she applied before she arrived. the uncomfortable stretch of her esophagus molding as your cock fills the empty gaps in her throat with every inch you have; is one that isn't unfamiliar to her. dragging your pulsating veins along the dip in her mouth, her tongue greedily laps up any and all of the skin yet to be consumed by her.

“jesus.. fuck, oh fuck. take it, nes'. shit.” your cock fully slips into her, heavy and swollen as it spears her right down the middle; eyes rolling back into her skull as it's just too fucking big. bigger than anything she's previously had inside of her, anyway. your core bleeds with spots of warmth as you take the time to bask in the way every individual wall in her mouth feels as it constricts you almost painfully. sucking you in before she slides you back out of her throat once more; repeating the tedious cylce that has the two of you in a heated frenzy.

despite all the sudden and erratic pain, nessa bobs her head in sync, coaxing you to go as deep as humanly possible. rocking your hips as they snap against her face with every good fuck you give her— watching yourself grow rapidly from the outside of her neck, the moist skin now holding a curved bump near the middle. nessa takes the initiative. removing a hand from one of your thighs, she uses four fingers to lightly push and stroke the bulge; almost as if she was jerking you off while you ravaged her inards.

she knew exactly what she was doing, and it had you riled the fuck up.

you picked up the pace, delirious from the amount of stimulation your precious cock was receiving. with your erection fully encased by her face and your dick bouncing off the gummy walls of her gullet, you could tell her throat was already forming bruises with a throbbing soreness to compliment, time come the morning. your rough hands dig behind the back of her head, hands feeling lost amongst her ocean of hair— beautiful locks just perfect for pulling. you yank her face forward, lowering yours as well to not only established authority but to get your point across to the cockdrunk slut mindlessly slobbering all over your messy shaft.

“mfph-- please, cum.. i want- all!” you can just barely string together what sounds like whines for more— i guess she can sense just how close the knot in your stomach is to bursting because she grips the back of your thighs and tugs them forward with whatever coherent muscle strength she has remaining. just in time for the tension in your core to coil tighter and tighter, the lowerhalf of your body trembling with all the signs of an incoming orgasm.

“does my dumb little girl wanna be fucked, that, bad? hah, fuck nes' what would your brother think?” you mock so cruelly, totally disregarding the fact that there is a slim possibility, raihan is searching for the lost pair. and it just so happens that nessa's poor little brother had been observing for a little over half the engagement. fist wrapped around his pathetic cock, suit collar pulled between his fangs, ocean blue eyes fixated on you; your hip strength, the way you rolled and plunged balls deep into his sibling. his body felt so empty, only riding his high off the two of yours', praying he'd finish before you caught him lurking like a sleaze. it was so unfair, why did nessa get to taste your sultry cock before he did?

you can feel the bass reverberate in nessa's throat as her lips nip at your hilt, impatiently trying to babble out a response adequate enough to your liking. her mind is flying, no correct sense of direction as it attempts to form a reply, but all that breaks past the barrier is a few pitiful mewls. her nose is burried in your pubes and she's lost all feeling in her throat, only motivating her to show off the lump on her neck even more. you watch as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth for the hundredth time that night, hands pushing down the lacy strap of her dress in a last ditch effort to find something other than her hair to latch onto for support. her scalp is on fire and she can only accept the stinging sensation as the roughness of your thrusts increase in magnitude.

the club is filled to the brim with lewd moans and needy pants; those of which included raihan's. every inch of her esophagus is being used— you happily ram your cock down her throat a few more times, your balls were quivering wildly. contracting and spasming, boiling with a fat wad of potent seed all ready to venture inside of her. nessa squeals, feeling a thick bulge travel up the length of your cock, up to the head and straight on her tongue; some spurts flowing down her neck while the rest collected in her mouth. painting her insides a translucent white that would surely stain.

just for good measure, nessa deep throats your empty dick with a few simple strokes; a white, sticky ring forming around the base of your shaft after she detached from your dick. a lewd pop, followed by a line of stringy saliva connected her lips to your bottomed out cock before she ruined the trail by letting her tongue lull from behind her teeth. letting you get a nice overhead view of her empty mouth, watching as the last bits of your load traveled down her throat and out of sight for good.

“god.. such a g'girl. you sucked on my cock so nicely, princess. wasn't that a way to end the night?” a blissed out smile creeps over your face, marveling in the aftermath you caused. you gave the right side of her face a few taps from your cock— dried tears and sloppy makeup tainting her cheeks. cum dripping from the corners of her mouth, as a cocktail of her own spit and your semen coats the back of her throat. it was all one big look of;

euphoria.

[leossmoonn]

The Last Time

masterlist

pairing - sirius black x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note - this is really messy but i just need to air out some feelings haha. sorry to do this with sirius, but i have another fic coming soon that has a happy ending :)

summary - you and sirius have been going round and round for three years, and you’ve both decided it’s time to end it

warnings / includes - language, mentions of cheating, crying, fighting

————

*gif isn’t mine*

You didn’t know what you wanted. You knew you deserved better, but you loved him. You knew that he deserved better, but letting him go was the most painful task, you didn’t even want to try it again. You just knew how it would end. You two would be alone for a few weeks, the loneliness seeping into your hearts, convincing you two you could try again. Convincing you two that you both could spare another chance at this. But now, you were sure that if you ended it tonight, there wouldn’t be another chance. It would have to be the last time. 

So you sat on your bed, shaking with tears running down your face. Lily was with you, rubbing your back soothingly as you voiced your concerns and doubts, trying to figure out what you wanted to do. 

“I just… What if I really regret it? Like, after a few years of being broken up and I want to get back together, but he’s already got someone new?” You asked. 

“It’s okay if you regret it, Y/n,” Lily assured. “But you need to get out of this relationship now. It’s not healthy. He’s cheated on you, you were flirting with other men while still in a relationship with him. You two just need time apart to figure out what you want.” 

You looked at the floor, playing with the hem of your skirt. You sniffled, wiping your eye roughly with the back of your hand. “I wish I knew what I wanted. I wish this wasn’t so hard.” 

Lily sighed and smiled softly. “Breakups aren’t supposed to be easy. They’re supposed to be hard and hurtful because you’re letting go of the person you love the most. But this is going to be good for you two. If you decide you may want him back later in life, then go and contact him and work it out then. Otherwise, you can’t keep doing this to yourself now.”

You sighed and nodded, knowing that she was right. “I-I know. I just don’t want to hurt him. I’ve put him through so much. What if… What if he hates me?”

“Y/n, I don’t think he could ever hate you. Just like you could never hate him.” 

You looked up at her with a watery smile. “You think so?” 

“I do,” she nodded and patted your shoulder. “I really do.” 

“Alright,” you sighed. “Y-Yeah, you’re right. I’ll survive this, right? My world doesn’t revolve around Sirius. It never has and never will. I’ll move on… right?”

“Of course you will. And I will be here all the way to support you,” Lily smiled and hugged you. 

“Thanks, Lils,” you sighed. “Anytime,” she hummed. 

Behind the door of the girl’s dormitory, Sirius listened in on your conversation, not quite believing his ears. He thought you two were past this. Past all the doubts, past all the breaking up, past all of it. Apparently, he was wrong.

He balled his hands into fists, his whole body beginning to shake in anger and sadness. He stomped down the stairs, undoing the spell that allowed him to climb up to the girls’s dormitory. He made his way to the common room where his friends resided. They all were surprised to see Sirius back so soon. They thought he was going to hang out with you for a little bit, but the expression on his face said otherwise. 

“Hey, mate, you okay?” James asked. “No,” Sirius seethed, sitting down on the couch. 

“What’s wrong? Did you two get into a fight again?” Remus asked. 

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His throat was dry and he felt as though shards of glass were trying to weasel their way down his esophagus. He felt queasy, too, like he could throw up. His whole body was shaking, his fingers digging into his skin, surely to drawl blood. Tears were working their way up into his eyes. He tried to fight them, but your words replayed in his head. He just couldn’t shake them off. 

Remus and James looked at each other before sitting next to Sirius. 

“What happened, Padfoot?” James asked again. 

“Y-Y/n,” he stuttered out. “What about her?” Remus asked. 

“S-She…” he trailed off, tears falling down from his eyes. “She… She wants to break up again. For good.” 

James and Remus’s faces fell. They put a comfortingly hand on Sirius’s shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, mate. Did you say anything to her?” Remus asked. 

“That’s the thing,” he laughed sourly. “I didn’t get to say anything because I was on the other side of the fucking door. Listening to her talk to Lily about it.” 

“Oh,” James said. “I… Do you want me to go up there and try to see if Lily can convince —” 

“It’s no use, Prongs,” Sirius sniffled, wiping his nose off of his sleeve. “We’re done. It’s over. I-I can’t do this anymore.” 

Both boys nodded in agreement with him, knowing that this day would’ve come sooner or later. 

“S’alright, Padfoot. You’ll finally be free, y’know?” James tried to cheer him up. 

“I don’t want to be free. I love her. I love her so much and she… she has this hold over me, but I have to put my foot down. I can’t go around and around with her anymore. It’s not worth it.” 

“We’re sorry, Sirius,” Remus spoke. “When she comes down to talk to you, why don’t you two just have a polite chat about it, alright?”

“H-How can I do that?” Sirius laughed. “Look at me, I… I’m shaking. I can barely breathe. Her words keep running through my fucking head.”

“Take some deep breaths, mate,” James directed, massaging his shoulder. 

“I-I’m trying,” Sirius’s voice broke. 

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but he heard footsteps come down. He turned his head, seeing you walking down the stairs, a smile on your face. He turned back to Sirius. “She’s here.” 

Sirius wiped his eyes and nose, running his fingers through his hair. He turned to you, his heart sinking at the innocent look at your face. 

“Hey, Siri!” You exclaimed. “Hey,” he said flatly. 

“What’s wrong?” You frowned, walking over to the couch. 

Sirius looked down at his lap and you looked at his friends for help. They gave you a polite smile, getting up off the couch. 

“Call us if you need anything,” Remus said. “Yeah,” Sirius nodded. 

The two boys walked out of the room, leaving Sirius and you alone. You sat down next to Sirius, your heart pounding. You ran over what you were going to say in your head for the millionth time. You looked at the ground, licking your lips as you tried to work up the courage to confess to him. 

Sirius looked at you, brows furrowed. Not in a glare, but more in a confused, hurt way. Lily was right. He couldn’t hate you, but he sure didn’t appreciate what you were about to do. 

You took in a deep breath, looking up to him. “Sirius I —” As your eyes met his, your heart broke at the sight. Your eyes widened in surprise as you saw his glossy eyes and deep frown. Your hands started to shake and your ears became hot in the nervousness . You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

Sirius stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to stay the words, but you never did. Instead, you said something that only made his heart sink to his stomach more. 

“Sirius I,” you coughed. “I just wanted to tell you how much I love you.” 

You put your hand on his, giving him an sweet smile. Sirius couldn’t contain his anger anymore. He scoffed and stood up, your hand sliding off of his. 

“Are you fucking serious?” He asked. 

You looked up at him with big, fearful eyes. “I-I.. What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes, not believing or understanding why you were trying to lie to him. “Do you think it’s fun fucking with me? Do you enjoy it, hm? Do you do this for you own pleasure? Because I think it’s fucking sick.” 

Your heart only raced more at his words and you, too, felt like throwing up. “I-I —” You stuttered out, not sure what to say. “I’m not fucking with you?” 

Sirius scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me, Y/n.” 

You glared at him, standing up. “Lie about what? I’m not lying to you, I-I love you!” 

“Bullshit!” He exclaimed. “Why do you think that way?” You asked as innocently as you could. 

Sirius bared his teeth at you, his shoulders shaking as he spoke his next few words. “I heard you with Lily. Talking about how you want to break up with me? Talking about how you don’t know what you want anymore? An-And now you come down here, acting all happy and go-fucking-lucky, telling me when you love me, when that’s obviously isn’t the truth!” 

Your jaw dropped, tears welling up in your eyes immediately. You didn’t think he was even in the common room, much less listening in to your conversation. You honestly didn’t know what to say, so you panicked, glaring at him and turning the blame on him. 

“You were spying on me?” You exclaimed. He laughed dryly, totally stunned at your behaviour. “Oh, this is just like you, innit? Turning the blame on someone else who’s done nothing wrong because you can’t admit to your faults.” 

“Excuse me?” You scoffed. “Oh, I admit my faults, Sirius.” 

“Oh, really? Give me an example, please,” he taunted. 

“I admitted that what I did two years ago was horrible, and that I was sorry. I am still sorry. I owned up to my mistakes because I know it was childish and immature. Oh, and speaking of blaming other people — what about you, huh? Blaming your now ex-friends for the reason why you cheated on me?” You spat. 

“I didn’t cheat on you, for Godrick’s sake!” He exclaimed. 

You scoffed, “You’re a fucking liar.” “Says you!” He shot back. 

“Well, at least I wasn’t the one who went calling some random American girl while I was away in New York for five hours straight each night, lying to me about where you were and who you were talking with. At least I wasn’t the one who lied to their partner because they wanted to “fit in”.  At least I wasn’t the one who talked shit about their partner behind their back, when they were with them. At least I wasn’t the one who acted like a douchebag when I voiced my insecurities about a girl, and all you replied with was “well, yeah, i mean, look at her.” Who the hell does that? At least I wasn’t the one who threatened to date the girl I hated because I wouldn’t pay attention to you!” You screamed, your face burning hot and sweaty. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you listed all the reasons.  

Sirius stepped back away from you, his heart leaping up his throat as he knew he had done all those things. He thought you two were past that, though, as he was sincerely sorry. He didn’t mean to do all those things as he was a stupid fourteen year old boy. He knew how much he hurt you and it killed him every single day, knowing that you had to find it in yourself to forgive him and give him another chance. But you weren’t all the innocent, either. 

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not the one who flirted with other guys because I was jealous and revenge. Maybe you could’ve handled the situation better, huh, Y/n, you think?” He hissed. 

“You don’t think I know that!” You laughed incredulously, your eyes wild and wide. You stepped closer to him, standing up straight and getting up in his face. “You think I don’t know that?” You repeated. “Because, I do. I think about it all the time, and I truly am sorry. But I was hurt because of what you did. I know I should’ve came to you about my concerns and doubts, but I didn’t even trust you yet. And yet, I let you back into my life, only to get hurt again.” You chuckled sourly, turning on your heel and walking around the common room, putting your hand on your forehead.  

“You aren’t the only one getting hurt!” Sirius exclaimed. 

“I know that!” You exclaimed, turning to him with your arms flailing. “But don’t you think for a second that you got hurt more than I did. I had to convince myself to trust you, you know that? I had to forgive you just so I could move on with my life and be happy. That was for my benefit, not yours. And I know you had to give yourself time to trust me, but at least what I did, I actually had a fucking reason.” 

Sirius sighed, “Yeah, I know. But think how I feel now! We’re always on and off because you can’t make up your fucking mind!”  

“Well can you really blame me? You’re the one who started this!”

“If you hate and blame me so much, why don’t you just leave?” 

You looked up at him, his face red and fuming from frustration. Hot tears streamed down your face, your brows furrowing as you started to sob. “Because I love you.” 

“If you loved me, then you wouldn't be questioning whether or not you wanted to be with me,” he muttered. 

“But that’s the thing,” you sniffled. “I’m not questioning whether I want to be with you or not, I’m questioning whether I deserve this or not. Whether we deserve this.” 

“Well, I think we already know the answer,” Sirius muttered. 

You looked up at him helplessly. “Is this it, then?” 

“It has to be,” he nodded. 

You stood across the room from him for a few moments, looking at him before collapsing to the floor and sobbing. Sirius stared at you, trying to resist the urge to go and help you. 

“Why’re you crying? You wanted this,” he spat. 

“Because,” you cried. “It’s still hard letting someone you love go.” 

“And here I thought you were an expert at this,” he mumbled. 

You chuckled, “Oh, shut up.” Sirius looked at you, smiling softly at your laugh. He decided to go over to you, dropping to his knees. He took your hand in his, looking at you in the eyes. 

“This is the last time, Y/n. I can’t do this anymore.” 

You stared at him, your whole body shaking at the realisation. You knew it was real, but it felt like a dream. All this felt like a dream. A bad dream you hoped you would wake up from soon. 

“D-Don’t,” you shook your head. “What?” He furrowed his brows.

“Don’t go,” you sniffled. “Not just yet.” He sighed helplessly. “I have to, baby. I’m putting my foot down. This is it. No more convincing ourselves we can get back together, no more trying to come back into my life, and no more of me trying so hard to make it work. Because obviously, it won’t.”

You started to cry again at his words, shaking your head as you didn’t want to believe it. “N-No, please. I-I know this is the last time, I know that, but please. Stay. Let’s talk about this, I —” 

“We can’t,” he shook his head. “Because if we do, then I’ll just convince myself that this is okay. And it’s not. And I know you know that.” 

You sniffled and nodded. “I-I do. I just… fuck,” you whimpered. 

Sirius sighed, still not liking to see you cry after all this. He stood up off the floor, taking you up with him. He moved close to you, cupping your face with his hands. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, breathing heavily as you tried to calm yourself down. Tears welled up in his own eyes as he pressed his lips to yours in a gentle, loving goodbye kiss. 

Your hands went up to his, holding onto his fingers as they held your jaw gently. Tears rolled down your cheek as you kissed him back, both of your tears mixing as you faces touched. You let out a choked sob as he kissed you, knowing that this was the last time you two would ever be this close. 

Sirius pulled away, a few tears rolling down his face slowly as he let go of you. Your face became cold and you felt the loneliness begin to creep in as he made his way to the door. 

“Goodbye, Y/n. I’ll see you around.” 

Your eyes widened as he opened the door, you ran over to him, begging him to stay, but it was too late. He shut the door on you, your fits coming in contact with the wood. You pounded against the back of The Fat Lady, screaming and crying for him to come back, knowing that it was no use. 

Lily ran down the stairs, gasping as she saw you banging on the door, yelling for Sirius. She went up to your immediately, wrapping you up in a tight hug. You didn’t stop and freeze in surprise, you fell into her embrace. Wrapping your arms around her shoulders as you cried into her sweater. She held you as you sobbed uncontrollably, putting her hand on the back of your head, kissing your forehead comfortingly. 

“I-It’s over, Lils. T-This was the last time,” you hiccuped. 

“I know, shhh,” she whispered. “I know. It’s all going to be okay, Y/n. It’s going to be okay.” 

————

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[merryfortune]

You give me flowers of love

Written for 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #39 - Pink

Ship: Nodoka/Hinata

Fandom: Healin’ Good PreCure

Word Count: 3,757

Rating: M

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

AN: title comes from Bloodflowers by The Cure and is recommended listening for this fic.

Tags:  Alternate Universe - Hanahaki, Horror, Gore, Emetophobia/Emetophilia, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Past/Referenced Eriko/Hinata, Minor Blood

   Hinata was not the type of girl who could handle horror stories, urban legends, or anything spookier than a rom-com set against the background of a popular coffee shop. However, there was something about this creepypasta that caught her attention. Maybe she read it to prove that she wasn’t a scaredy-cat or maybe she read it because something about it was almost too real.

   It came across her Curestagram feed, screenshots reposted from another site with long form text functions rather than the optimized for photos aesthetic of Curestagram. It wasn’t late at night, quite the opposite, Hinata had just been scrolling as she was half nibbling on a banana muffin for morning tea. So she was kind of bored and not already unsettled by a vague anxiety sort of mindset so she stopped her scroll to read this totally true story from a friend of a friend that had happened upon her timeline.

   The story involved a sickness. A lovesickness, hooking Hinata immediately since she was a hopeless romantic and leaving her vulnerable to what was hiding down below a few paragraphs after and Hinata realised she was reading a surreal medical horror story.

   Supposedly, some girl from a high school in the next town over had been hospitalized due to damage to her stomach and esophagus but ultimately culminated in her passing away from brain damage due to suffocation. The suffocation that was the outcome of the damage she had taken to her stomach and esophagus had, supposedly, been caused by the growing of flowers inside of her. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They were baffled by the impossibility of it. Yet where they failed to posit theories at all, their patient had her own she desperately desired to reveal. 

   The nameless girl, as weak as she was in her final moments of speech and cognition, was certain with the most crystal clear clarity that she could muster said that reason for the flowers growing inside of her was due to a crush that she had been fostering for quite some time. A crush that was so powerful and deep that it had manifested as literal and impossible distress in the form of tiger lily flowers. Though her claims were dismissed as nonsense, despite the very given evidence that she had been vomiting exotic flowers, except by the narrator who was sharing her story online on her behalf.

   Hinata got to the bottom line of the final screenshot and she dropped her phone on the table. She shivered and flinched as her phone clattered. Nyatoran looked up, alarmed, from the milk that he had been sipping.

   “Heh? Are you okay Hinata?” he asked.

   “Y-Yeah, I just lost my grip.” Hinata replied. It wasn’t a lie.

   “Really? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nyatoran pointed out.

   Hinata made an expression that was both guilty and embarrassed, “Er, sort of… I read a ghost story online and I haven’t the stomach for them.”

   “Oh, well, no worries then. I’ll keep ya safe from all the ghoulies then.” Nyatoran boasted.

   Hinata laughed, “Thanks, Nyatoran.” she replied.

   And that was more or less enough to keep her mind off what she had read for the rest of the day as she did her Sunday homework and such. At least until well after lights out. 

   Hinata cursed herself. She knew endless walls of text in screenshots never bore good news but it was under her skin now. It wasn’t even that scary, she tried to convince herself. It just so happened to play off something she had been thinking about in ways that cut deep and yes, even scary. 

   Hinata had a crush of her own. One she didn’t think she ought to act on. Or didn’t know how to act on. 

   Hinata had a crush on Nodoka. She was sweet and gentle yet so motivated. Hinata felt like she learned something new about either herself or Nodoka after every time they hung out. Things never felt old between them despite how natural their companionship was between them.

   Catching feelings for Nodoka was inevitable, Hinata felt regarding their dynamic as close friends and their friendship was relatively intense due to their bond as comrades being Pretty Cures but that made Hinata sick to her stomach with fear. This wasn’t her first crush that she had on another girl. 

   In the not so recent past, Hinata had been wrong reading other girls’ opinions and feelings regarding her before. She and Eriko had been so close, childhood friends with a pact that seemed fit to stand the test of time when they had made it, and Hinata didn’t think it was a coincidence that already scarce contact between them after Eriko moved was when Hinata had confessed her feelings to Eriko. 

   The rejection had been crushing and Hinata had never told a soul about it. The wound was older now but it still hurt so, as lovely as Nodoka was, Hinata didn’t want to gamble their friendship due to that prior rejection. Yet her feelings crackled like electricity near a lightning rod whenever she was around Nodoka anyway. She could only hope that Nodoka was oblivious since she was so inexperienced socially due to her childhood spent mostly in the hospital.

    (And that Chiyu never brought up the blatantly obvious which she would hopefully never do since she knew there was a place and a time and it wasn’t her place).

   Thus, for all these different and entangling reasons, that horror story Hinata had read this morning really resonated. The thought of her unrequited feelings becoming literal, even in the form of pretty and seemingly harmless flowers, and suffocating. It was a very real fear to Hinata despite that fantastical execution that it was captured inside.

   All because she was a magical girl infused with the power of light and thunder. She fought villains who caused infections in nature and created monsters. To her, it didn’t seem too far outside of her sphere of tried and true reality that such a floral disease of the body could exist. Heck, maybe it did exist and was tied to the war that she and her friends were fighting in secret on behalf of the Healing Animals. It was entirely possible this flower vomit disease was another agent or power of the Byougens. 

   Hinata groaned and the more she scolded herself for thinking about these horrible possibilities, the more she thought about them. She tossed and turned all night, in the dark and under the covers of her doona. She knew Nyatoran would live up to his boasting over morning tea if she asked but he was totally conked out in his little room. Hinata couldn’t bring herself to wake him, to unnecessarily burden him, so she just hid from her fears as best as she could in her blankets.

   The following morning, Hinata was a wreck. She had bags under her eyes and was generally a drag. She hasn’t slept a wink last night but just like she was hiding from the horror story in her head, she decided to hide from the aftermath too. She touched up her eyes with concealer and finished off her make-up with a nice little kiss of lip balm, too. She chose a nice tropical flavour: pineapple with vanilla undertones and wore nude in practice. With that, she was ready for what was no doubt going to be a long, long day of school.

   A prediction that she was very right in having. Just making it to lunch felt like an eternity and a half on low energy. Worst still, despite the precautions that Hinata had taken, both Chiyu and Nodoka had noticed that she wasn’t exactly her bouncy self today. Even with her favourite lunch box in her lap with fried chicken and a fruit drink, too.

   “Are you okay, Hinata?” Nodoka asked and she batted her long eyelashes in concern.

   Hinata knew she couldn’t lie or deflect around Nodoka, at least for the most part, and deflated, “No…” she moaned. “I slept awfully last night.”

   “I expect that it wasn’t due to over studying?” Chiyu asked, sniping. 

   “No, I just. Couldn’t sleep.” Hinata shrugged.

   “Well, be sure to put yourself early to bed tonight then. There’s nothing worse than being tired.” Nodoka said.

   “Will do.” Hinata sighed.

   “Also?” Nodoka prompted her.

   “Yeah?” Hinata glanced at Nodoka was she tried a spoonful of rice from her side dishes.

   “Your lip balm has a very strong smell today, I can smell it from here.” Nodoka laughed.

   “Oh, joy…” Hinata hung her head in misery. She didn’t think it was so pungent in the tube.

   “I didn’t mean that in a mean way.” Nodoka panicked whilst Chiyu had a discrete giggle at Hinata’s misfortune. “I really like it. I think it smells nice. Like cherries. I love the smell of cherries best.”

   “Huh?” Hinata mumbled and she stared straight at Nodoka in confusion.

   Nodoka stared back. Also in confusion. “Is something the matter?”

   “Er, no,” Hinata awkwardly began and she forced herself to laugh and she flapped a hand about too to disguise her weirdness, “I must have been so tired this morning that I though I used one lip balm and instead used another.”

   “That is a little odd…” Chiyu murmured.

   But Nodoka seemed to buy it, she gasped, “Fwow, you must have been really tired this morning to make such a mistake. Promise me to get a good night’s rest tonight then.” Nodoka fussed for her.

   “I promise, I promise.” Hinata replied.

   Just as Hinata spoke, the end of lunch bell rang. She moaned with the utmost misery as she hadn’t finished her lunch even slightly and roused much sympathy from both Nodoka and Chiyu. So, Hinata crammed what she could into her mouth and swallowed before returning with her friends indoors to their classroom.

   She plopped down in her chair and desk, her stomach growling almost immediately. Were it not for the teacher at the front of the classroom, Hinata would have flopped down and keeled over right there and then. She would have killed for a nap. Not even a luxurious nanna nap at this point, she would take a horrid power nap. Anything would have been better than nothing. Instead, the best she could muster was some daydreaming whilst scribbling in her work book so she could at least pretend to be paying attention.

   Her mind strayed to Nodoka. She couldn’t help it. A silly little pining schoolgirl was exactly what she was after all. She doodled Nodoka’s name in her margins, surrounded with love-hearts, paw prints, and even flowers. It was a little bit childish but Hinata was a lot childish so she didn’t mind, she was more or less on cloud nine since Nodoka had shown her care for her over lunch, fussing for her like that.

   It was such a small act but it was more than enough to launch Hinata’s heart in a million miles an hour race. So much so, she began to taste something at the back of her throat. It was a sweet taste accompanied by a fizzy sensation. Hinata liked it and it seemed to get stronger the more she daydreamed about Nodoka. Even though it was the middle of class, Hinata was letting her mind completely run away from the contents of what the teacher was attempting to educate on them.

   Finally, after what felt like a day of self torment because of reading some stupid horror story about puking flowers, Hinata felt free of that gnawing anxiety. But just as she revelled in this, her stomach wretched. She dry gagged with the searing taste of bile at the back of her throat and her hand automatically clamped over her mouth, pen and all. The prior anxiety might have dissipated but a new one had spiked in its place.

   Hinata frowned. Was it because she hadn’t eaten all her lunch that she suddenly felt nauseous? Or was it something else? She begged that it wasn’t her period, she was still quite irregular so this felt off or early to her.

   Then she gagged again. She swallowed it back down. Hard. Whatever she swallowed was thick and sweet. It wasn’t vomit, Hinata had the startling realisation. She tried hard to keep it down but she failed. She vomited into her hand, or at least something similar. The motions were awful, worse than anything else she had ever had to eject from her body orally before.

   Hinata felt sick to the very bottom of her stomach. Her hands shook as she slowly removed the one over her mouth and… and she couldn’t believe her eyes. They widened in shock as she saw the head of a flower in the palm of her hand. It was a cherry blossom, she realised. The pale pink petals were frayed at the edges, burnt by stomach acid and wet with her saliva; the anthers of its centre drooped and dragged, splayed across the petals. Her skin crawled as she marveled at the insane gravity of the situation. She quickly paled.

   And the teacher noticed, “Hiramitsu, are you okay?” he asked from in front of the chalkboard, looking up concerned from the book he was reciting from.

   “I-I, um, I need to go. To the nurse.” Hinata eked out her words with strained difficulty.

   Her stomach flipped and she could feel another one coming up. It slithered up her throat and she hated the slow, dreadful sensation of it, the way it made her mouth taste of bile and cherries in horrible combination. Hinata bolted to her feet, afraid, alarming the whole class. She hid her mouth behind her hand again, holding tight that first flower that she had vomited.

   “I need to go.” Hinata mumbled and she fled.

   The feeling of her classmates' eyes on her felt like broken glass digging. She knew, deep down, they didn’t mean harm but their gazes only served to amplify the terror she felt as she fled. She was fast at first, escaping from the classroom but her stomach lurched and she vomited another flower and then again but two at once this time.

   Hinata stopped in the hallway, she had to rest her shoulder against the wall just to stand as she looked down into the palm of her hand. The flowers were accumulating against her skin, wet and heavy, and accelerating in pace of production. Already she felt another lurch and this one was dire, Hinata didn’t think she would be so lucky to only vomit one or two this next time.

   She had to get to the sick bay. She wasn’t sure what she would do there but anything had to be better than nothing, so she hobbled on in immense pain. By nothing less than a miracle, Hinata managed to get to the nurse’s suite without collapsing. Or with leaving too many flowers in her meagre wake.

   The school nurse panicked almost immediately when she saw Hinata in this state. Hinata sputtered out a thank you whilst she was put to bed. Hinata curled up under the sheets, her stomach lurching and mangled petals dripped out of her mouth. She had to hide her ailment from the nurse. She just had to. She didn’t know how to explain it or anything else pertaining to it but fortunately, the nurse bought her some time by going to use administration’s phone to let her father know that Hinata was in immediate medical distress.

   Hinata held her scrawny belly with one hand and her mouth the other. No matter how hard she tried, these flowers kept dredging up from inside of her and it was worsening. There was distention building inside of her, it was as if she could feel the bushels of cherry blossom flowers forming inside of her and something else too. It was raw and firm and poking up through her like a stick. Hinata moaned in utter agony as she tasted not just sweetness and bile in her mouth, but the cutting, metallic taste of blood too.

   She whimpered as she tried to swallow it down. Attempting so, just made the nicks and cuts to her throat worsen and the petals to clog. Her lungs ached sharply as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes squeezed tight and she begged every deity she could think of for a saviour.

   The door to the sick bay opened again. Hinata murmured to herself and the curtain was pulled aside, “Hinata?” a sweet voice greeted her.

   “Huh?” Hinata slurred.

   She rolled over, still holding herself but even a simple and slow motion like that was enough to rouse her illness violently. Her grimace was deep on her face as she tried to look at Nodoka, even feebly.

   “A-Are you okay, Hinata?” she asked. “I couldn’t sit by and worry when I saw you ill you were, what’s wrong?”

   Hinata opened her mouth. Mostly to reply, but that’s not what happened. She threw up in front of Nodoka and Nodoka couldn’t believe her eyes. Hinata was throwing up bushels upon bushels of flowers. Cherry blossoms. Nodoka blinked. She couldn’t believe the sights - or the smell. The smell was disconcerting with how almost pleasantly fragrant it was, heightening Nodoka’s realisation that this wasn’t Hinata pulling pranks.

   “H-How on Earth did this happen…?” Nodoka asked.

   She was horrified yet found herself unable to resist the impulse. She picked a blossom out of the pile that Hinata had vomited up. It was soft in her hand, even if it was grotesquely wet.

   “I - I don’t-” Hinata tried to speak but she cut herself off when she felt something jut out of her mouth. An entire branch of cherry blossoms began to spike out of her mouth.

   Her eyes began to roll back on themselves as Nodoka watched, in abject and frozen horror, as Hinata contended with this stick inside of her. It emerged slowly from the depths of her throat and made her chest convulse. Her fingers spasmed as she choked around it, flowers blooming along the thin and coarse branch.

   “H-Help me.” Hinata sputtered out.

   Nodoka nodded. She was scared, her heart was pounding, but she was first and foremost a helper of most empathetic ends. She had been on the receiving end of a strange and bizarre illness that had rendered most her childhood for naught. She couldn’t just let Hinata struggle. Suffocate.

   So, she got onto the bed with Hinata. She straddled her so she could best approach the foreign object inside of Hinata. She focused her eyes and was as ready as she could ever be for an amateur operation quite like this one. Nodoka reached out and pinched the end of the branch delicately. It was entirely unsafe, Nodoka knew that, but she began to pull. She peered into Hinata’s pink mouth was clogged with twigs and petals, and tried her best to dislodge what she could.

   Hinata gagged. Tears in her eyes and she plead, silently and afraid, that Nodoka could handle this. Nodoka’s hands shook but she did, in fact, manage. She tried her hardest and she did succeed even if it felt pyrrhic as Hinata screamed out as the last, and thickest, part of the cherry blossom branch was removed. 

   Nodoka flinched hearing the scream, dropping the cherry blossom branch between them. Hinata spat out blood and petals but the cherry blossom branch had been removed. She caressed her neck and it was raw with what it had been through. Her touches did little to soothe or quell her pain, she looked up at Nodoka with pathetic, red rimmed eyes.

   “What was that?” Nodoka asked, her heart quaking. “How could any of this be possibly real?”

   “I - I don’t know.” Hinata mumbled but that was a lie. She choked on her words all the same as she had choked on those cherry blossoms. Her hands squeezed tight. “No. I’m sorry. I do know.”

   “Pardon?” Nodoka quietly exclaimed.

   “There’s a very rare disease,” Hinata began, hasty, “that causes flowers to grow inside of someone suffering with a crush that they just can’t handle.”

   “That’s horrible…” Nodoka murmured.

   It was now or never, Hinata realised. Or she was going to end up exactly like the girl from the story that she had read yesterday. She knew it. She just knew it.

   “Nodoka, it’s you.” Hinata confessed, half a sob in her voice. “I’m crushing on you.”

   Nodoka was stunned by Hinata’s admission. 

   Hinata panted, her face was going bright red whilst her heart pounded like a hammer at her rib cage. She couldn’t believe it. She had done it. But it felt like a weight off, she had to admit, she didn’t realise her crush had been such a burden until right now. She felt herself lighten with the confession, from the very pit of her stomach, upwards and outwards.

   Nodoka averted her gaze and Hinata was reminded once more why a crush was called a crush. That borderline feel good feeling from before popped. Burst. Nodoka played with her hair, fidgeting, and then managed to speak in a very calm and very quiet voice.

   “I have a crush on you, too, Hinata.” Nodoka replied. “I admire so much how you sparkle and shine. It’s very refreshing to be around. I like you too. A lot.”

   Nodoka reached out to Hinata’s hand and held it. She was so warm and she was still trembling but Nodoka’s caress of it did soothe her. Hinata hazarded a smile, like she couldn’t believe her ears, through her scarlet expression. Nodoka leaned in and kissed Hinata.

   Hinata was unable to kiss back, afraid of her own breath but Nodoka didn’t mind. It was pungent with cherry blossoms and wet but she found the kiss sufficiently sweet, kissing Hinata’s soft, balmy lips. They were tinged with pineapple and vanilla beneath that overwhelming sensation of cherry blossoms.

   “Thank you, Nodoka…” Hinata murmured and somehow, she didn’t know or understand how but she wasn’t going to complain, she was cured, prettily, of her affliction. 

   The cherry blossom flowers on the bed or in her gut, disappeared. All with seemingly little aplomb. Even the branch that had to have been removed from her throat, all with a soft, fizzling noise that Hinata could hardly hear over the sound of her pounding heart. She still had the cuts and scrapes, but she was no longer growing flowers inside of her stomach. Hinata was cured and Nodoka was her blessed, angelic cure.

[abigailadams1788]

Humans are Space Orcs: DON’T EAT THAT!!

So I’ve been obsessed with the whole “Humans Are Space Orcs” thing for a while but I haven’t had an idea to add to it until tonight. I don’t know if this has been done before but here’s what happened: I was texting my brother and he mentioned watching this video of a guy who was eating his leftovers in the styrofoam to-go container. Like, eating it styrofoam and all.

You’re probably like “You idiot don’t eat that!” and my next thought was “What if an alien reacted to that?”

Cause here’s the thing: we’ve all seen the posts of humans eating anything. We consume caffeine by the gallon in the mornings just to stay awake. We eat chocolate by the pound cause it tastes good and lifts our mood (don’t act like you didn’t gorge on that chocolate pie/cake at Thanksgiving. We all know you snuck that third piece when no one was looking.) We consume fruits that have cyanide-filled seeds. Hell pineapple is toxic if it’s unripe but we put it on pizza and salads anyways. It’ll burn our tongue anyways but we still eat it.

So naturally, aliens are in this mode of “Humans can eat just about anything. They come from this major Deathworld; why wouldn’t they eat everything? They already said “Fuck you” to the natural order of predation. Might as well have an appetite to facilitate that.” So just imagine this:

Xa’var shuffled into the mess hall after a long what xis human counterparts would say day. Xa’var had been up since the first shift and was just now getting something to eat. It wasn’t easy, being the liaison for xis’ council and the humans, but it was a job Xa’var took pride in.

Laughter caught Xa’var’s attention. The humans that xe had come to consider friends were hunched over a holo-device, laughing at whatever they were watching. Curiosity arose in Xa’var’s mind. It was always a fortuitous occasion to learn more about xis’ counterparts. It could even be a new report to make to add to the “How To Deal With Humans 101″ handbook. Xa’var used xis main tentacles to walk over to the humans’ table.

“Hello, Human Rachel. Hello, Human Todd. Might I inquire as to what it is you are watching?”

“Oh, Xa’var! Didn’t see you come in.” Rachel bared- smiled- there were still many things to get used to about the behaviors of humans- at xim and moved over so Xa’var could lean down comfortably. “Todd was showing me this video of this idiot eating his leftovers with his to-go box.”

Xa’var leaned down and focused one of his eyes on the holo-device while the other watched the reactions of the humans. On the screen, one human male was eating a white contraption that appeared to have rations in it. Other humans were telling him to cease the action, but he seemed to not believe them. Todd and Rachel seemed to be very amused, though the humor was lost on Xa’var.

“I am confused.” Todd wiped his eyes- note to add to the handbook: humans cry when laughing.- and looked up at Xa’var. “What is the human doing wrong?”

“Dude.” Rachel snorted, seemingly trying to not laugh. “You don’t eat styrofoam. Everyone knows that.”

Xa’var was astounded. He had believed that humans could eat anything.

Xa’var remembered when someone had accidentally spilled another’s ration on xim. The result was an extended stay in the medical wing because the acids in the foods had almost burned through xis carapace. 

When Human Rachel came to check on xim and asked to see the rations, they were brought in for her inspection. To Xa’var’s horror, after smelling the rations, Rachel had taken a rather large helping and eaten it.

Instead of immediately convulsing and screaming in pain, as what had happened with Xa’var, Rachel simply moved her shoulders in a movement that Xa’var recognized as a shrug and said: “Could’ve used a little more spice.”  When Xa’var had inquired as to how she could handle the acidity of the food, she had laughed and commented that her mother- the human term for egg-layer, since apparently humans weren’t hatched- used to make something called a curry that burned when one ate it. Xa’var had made a note that night to his council to avoid the human food known as curry at all costs.

“You... you mean humans can’t eat everything?” Xa’var knew it was not the most tactful approach, but the fact that the man was being seen as an apparent imbecile for eating his food container seemed to Xa’var to be a type of prank. Surely they weren’t serious about it?

Both Human Rachel and Human Todd lifted the hair above their eyes- eyebrows, Xa’var mentally corrected- in surprise. “Who told you we could?” Todd asked.

“I...” Xa’var felt xis skin start to flush with embarrassment. “It has been believed for a long time that humans can eat anything.”

“Well...” Human Todd leaned back in his chair. “I mean, we technically can eat anything, but there are things we shouldn’t. Does that make sense?”

“I am afraid it does not. Could you please elaborate?” Hunger temporarily forgotten, Xa’var lowered into a neighboring chair, tucking his tentacles under xis carapace to facilitate a comfortable position; new information was always worth giving one’s full attention.

“So here’s the thing: our stomach contains something called hydrochloric acid, which is largely responsible for breaking down everything we eat and converting it into energy, basic nutrients, proteins, you get the idea.” Xa’var nodded along, a habit xe picked up from xis human counterparts as a body language that communicates understanding. “Now we humans measure the acidity level of acids on what we call a ph scale. It runs 1 to 14. 7 is neutral, with numbers above it being alkaline in nature and numbers below 7 running acidic. The lower the number it is, the more acidic it is. 6 is more acidic than 7, 5 more than 6, and so on.”

“I see, I see.” Xa’var nodded again, enraptured now. Xe had been educated on the different scales humans use to measure things, so xe knew what a ph scale. Though, for xis people, 7 was actually capable of causing severe burns. A 4 could sear through a warrior’s carapace with ease, while anything less than a 3 was guaranteed death. 

“So where does a human’s acid level fall?” In the back of Xa’var’s second brain, the knowledge that could come from this could be useful in avoiding injury should a human’s internal organs were exposed during a battle. Given a human’s resilience, xe wouldn’t be surprised if that happened at some point and the human continued to fight.

“It depends,” Rachel spoke now. “If someone hasn’t eaten in a while, the acid in their stomach might level out at about a 4, but while they’re eating it’ll go up to a 2 or even a 1.” Xa’var felt xis eyestalks retract slightly in horror. “Lemon juice is typically considered a 2, so if that helps put in perspective.”

“Y-yes. But I am still confused as to what you meant by “shouldn’t eat”.” Xa’var cleared xis throat, trying to not let the rising horror be exposed. Levels out at a 4?!? Rises to a 1 while they were eating!?! A 1 would melt the carapace and internal organs of his people with ease and continue destroying until it was neutralized, but this happened as a natural occurrence within a human’s stomach?? Multiple times a day!?!

“Ah, yeah. Well, I guess it’s kind of like what happened with you a couple weeks ago.” Rachel shrugged, crossing her arms. Xa’var recognized the body language as bored, not hostile. It was a fine nuance, but one xe was proud xe could spot the difference in. “Humans can eat virtually anything cause our stomach is so acidic it will kill virtually any virus or bacteria that enter with our food on contact, with very few exceptions. Even then we can fight through most illnesses and poisonings as long as we keep our immune system up.

“That said, there are some things we just shouldn’t eat because it provides no nutritional value to us. Styrofoam is one of those things. Glass, plastic, rubber, paper,” Rachel shrugged again. “We can eat all of those things, as evidenced by people who do, but we shouldn’t because they don’t provide the nutrition our body needs.”

“So, what you are saying is that, while humans are perfectly capable of consuming anything, but chose to not because of nutrition concerns?” Xa’var felt the inquiry sounded more absurd spoken than it did in xis head. To xis surprise, Human Todd and Human Rachel nodded.

“Pretty much. We can sometimes get what we call “acid reflux”, which is when the acid in our stomach rises into our esophagus. This is caused by allergies or a malfunction of the internal blocker we have to prevent that from happening, but it’s rare. Usually it’s caused when we eat something that doesn’t sit well with us and causes an imbalance in our stomach acid.” Human Todd confirmed.

“And this is not dangerous?”

“Oh no, it definitely can be.” Rachel commented far too nonchalantly for Xa’var’s comfort. “Usually it’s just uncomfortable, but it does burn like a bitch. It’s why we start crying whenever we throw up. Our esophagus doesn’t have the natural lining our stomach does to protect it from the acids, so the acids literally burn away our throat. Some people have burned a hole in their throat because of acid reflux. Most of the time though that can be fixed with a simple dietary change, though some people have to take medicine to help balance out their ph levels.”

Xa’var’s brains were reeling. Not only was the initial belief confirmed (humans can indeed eat anything), but they were capable of doing so because their internal organs contained an acid strong enough to melt his carapace! It could even burn the humans’ own throats but they treated it like it was nothing!

“Are you alright, Xa’var?” Xa’var blinked. Rachel was staring at xim with an expression xe recognized as concern. “You’re white.” Looking down, Xa’var realized xe was indeed white; xis people’s skin changed color based on emotions. Apparently, the horror xe felt was enough to cause xis body to involuntarily react and try to camouflage xim with the surrounding tables and chairs.

“Y-yes. I am fine, Human Rachel.”

“You sure? Have you eaten anything today?”

“I, have not. I will go do so now. Thank you for telling me this information.”

Rachel and Todd watched as Xa’var maneuvered out of the mess. Despite xis words, xe was going the opposite way of the food. “What’s his problem?” Rachel asked.

“I dunno. Maybe a long shift?”

“Maybe.”

Little did they know that Xa’var was heading to xis quarters to not only update the “How To Deal With Humans 101″ manual, xe was also going to send a very important message to his council about the truth of a human’s terrifying ability to eat anything.

Follow my writing Tumblr @the-red-dragon-queen for any and all new writing posts!!

[hieludoboi]

A List of Things I’d Like to do With You (Pt 2/9)

A/n- This is still going to be a lil sad, but not as bad. This first escapade isn’t that detailed, but lemme tell you, the next one, I plan on making people cry :3

Links to parts 1 and 3- Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/n- Ight I lied, the beginning of this is going to be pretty sad :(

This one was pretty long and for some reason took forever to write! But anyways, here’s your reminder to please send in requests, I love doing them and they always get my brain going!

Trigger Warnings- Vomit, blood, depictions of terminal illness, underage drinking, a little suggestive, cemetery, crying, just v sad, please proceed with caution :(

Pairing- Daichi/Fem!Reader

Summary- Though she was in pain, he had never known. Because her list had been made.

She felt numb. A routine appointment landed her in the hospital. Her stomach was coursing with this unimaginable pain, rippling from her abdomen up to her spine. Were stomach aches supposed to give you headaches? God this felt like the worst hangover of her life. As she groaned and curled up on the hospital bed, her body jolted forward. In an instant her mother was holding her hair back, her father holding a bag to her open mouth. She could feel the heaves rack her body, stripping her of oxygen, constricting her lungs and stomach.

She had stayed like that for what seemed like ages, her body hunched over a bag of sick while her mother rubbed her back. Her body trembled, face sickly and pale. When had it gotten this bad? When had it started? Why had she kept this to herself until now? What if it was terminal, what if it could have been treated if she came in when it had started.

Y/n managed to sob between heaves, her hands shaking as she wrapped her arms around her middle. Was it second year? Was that when the unimaginable stomach aches began? Or was that when her drastic weight loss began to eat away at her body? Y/n gagged as tightly squeezed her mother’s hand, the metallic taste of blood coating her mouth, the sounds of her mother’s cries ringing around her ears.

It all happened in a blur, the tests, the scans, the somber talks of treatments, and lifespan. It was stomach cancer, stage four, and terminal. While her parents sobbed, Y/n sat still. Terminal? Stomach cancer? How? Why? She was supposed to graduate this year, watch the boys go to finals, watch them win nationals. She still had to grow old with Daichi, get married, start a family where Suga was the godfather, and the second years the uncles. She still hadn’t gotten her first sip of alcohol, or done any drugs, she still hadn’t told Daichi that she loved him. 

It wasn’t until her parents calmed down that she finally broke. She was going to die in 5 months, maybe sooner. How had she not noticed? She was getting thinner, her stomach pain had caused her to faint, she was vomiting every other day and could barely eat. How had she not noticed? Why did she put it off?

She went home that afternoon with a bag of medicines in her hand. There was no way they could treat it until it was gone, but they could give her medicine to keep the pain and symptoms at bay. Her mother entered the house with a dull look in her eyes, her father headed straight for their bedroom. It made her feel angry in a fucked up way. She was the one who was going to die, so why were they acting like they were going to die?

With teary eyes trudged to her room, gently sitting on the edge of her bed. There was still so much she wanted to do. So many escapades, and only five months to do them. She forced herself to smile when she sat at her desk. She was going to be happy these last few months. She was going to go to every game, she was going to hang out with Daichi every day, she was going to make a list of things she’s like to do with Daichi and complete it before her time came to an end. With a completed list, she looked towards the words at the bottom.

“Number eight. Get drunk with Daichi.” Y/n nodded her head as she read the first things off the list. She’d be damned if she left before getting properly shitfaced. The thought of getting drunk scared her just a little bit, but if she was Daichi, she was bound to be okay. No matter what, she was going to make sure that he made only good memories with her before she left.

Daichi had stared at his phone in amusement for about two minutes now. Y/n had sent him a photo of her posing in front of her mother’s liquor cabinet. She wanted to get shitfaced is what she told Daichi. Not expecting to actually get drunk, Daichi had made his way to her home. Living in the same neighborhood had come with major perks when it came to situations like these.

Daichi knew the type of person she was. In some way she was like Noya, a fiery, energetic, do now think later type of person. Still, knowing who she was could not prepare Daichi for the ungodly amount of bottles on the kitchen table. She was serious?

“You were serious?” Daichi stared at the table in disbelief before locking eyes with Y/n who had a closed-eyed grin on her face. “Y/n, I came to hang out, not get hammered. You’re going to turn eighteen in what, half a year? We can wait til then.” Daichi tried reasoning, but it was then that he saw this look cross her face in a fraction of a second. 

Y/n could feel the breath get caught in her throat. If she were lucky, she could enjoy almost five whole months. The doctors were being generous, but it was more likely that she’d be gone in the next three months. Y/n bit her lip and looked at the table of liquor, hoping that he hadn’t caught the grim look that flashed across her face. She didn’t have enough time, but how could she explain that to him?

“Daichi, with the career I want, I won’t have time to get hammered! I want to be reckless and live my life while I can! I’m not going to wait until I’m thirty-seven with a stable job, a nice home, a big family, and a husband to act like I’m seventeen!” Daichi chuckled, shaking his head in amusement before joining her at the table stacked of liquor. 

“Alright. I guess you’ve got a point. So, how are we doing this?” Daichi asked as he grabbed one of the glass bottles, opening it and taking a sniff before recoiling at the strong smell. Y/n giggled before grabbing the bottle from him and setting it back on the table. 

“Easiest way is to play a drinking game! So let’s pick a show and set up some rules.” Daichi nodded, grinning at the ‘serious expression’ on her face. While she busied herself in finding a show and picking some rules, Daichi stayed in the kitchen, sifting through bottles and shot glasses. She was acting strange, something wasn’t right. She felt dim, a bit cold, and far too serious. Daichi bit his bottom lip, staring at the bottle of Bacardi that sat on the table before him. He was going to figure out what was wrong. He just had to figure out how.

“Daichi! You got the bottles picked out yet?” He jumped back a bit, her voice suddenly breaking him out of his thoughts. Quickly, he grabbed a random five bottles and two shot glasses that resembled cups more than shots. He set them on the coffee table, arranging them before sinking into the couch, his arm wrapping around Y/n’s waist, pulling her snug into his side. He watched with a smile as she cuddled into his side, a soft smile on her lips while she leaned into his touch. 

He stared at her lips as she animatedly talked about the drinking game and the show she had picked out. Daichi heard none of it though, he was trapped by the movement of her soft lips, pleasantly focused on the little shine of light that her recently applied lip balm seemed to reflect. He could kiss her right now, hold her face in his hands, melt against her lips, be enveloped by the warmth and light her body endlessly created. 

“Got it?” Daichi blinked, his eyes darting back up to see the silly smile spread across her face. Daichi could feel the blush begin to spread across his cheeks, but he ignored it, reciprocating a smile before filling up their shot glasses with some Jose Cuervo. “Ready?” Y/n had this glint in her eyes as she picked up her shot glass, her body buzzing with chaotic energy. Daichi nodded, picking up his glass and clinking it with her glass before downing the shot. Y/n giggled as Daichi winced, poking fun at the faces he was making before downing the shot in a less than graceful fashion. -------------------------------------------------- Her throat had become numb with each shot of tequila, her mind pulling blanks whenever Daichi would drunkenly ask her a question. At this point, she couldn't tell if she was nauseous because of all the alcohol in her system or because of sick that was prodding at her esophagus. Still, she carried on, downing shot after shot of burning liquor. 

When she looked to her left, Daichi was hiccuping, giggling at the sounds that tumbled from his lips. She was focused on the way the liquor coated his lips, making them shine in the dim living room light. They looked pretty, just a little pink, and the slightest bit puffy. Maybe it was liquor, maybe it was the illness, or maybe it was just because of how hard she was focused on his lips, but in seconds she was rushing to the bathroom. Even in her drunken state, she managed to close and lock the door. No matter what, she was going to make sure Daichi didn't know. 

It was the same as always, her hands would grip onto the edge of the toilet seat until her fingers became a sickly grey. Her body would tremble with heaves and gags while the sweat from her forehead would drip into her tired eyes.  As soon as she would finish she would stand and stare at herself in the mirror, admiring the way the blood tainted and stained her quivering lips. It was funny to her, the way she managed to find some crooked beauty in the illness that was stripping the life from her body with each second that passed. It was routine, no matter how grizzly it felt and looked. So with a sigh, she finished her grizzly routine and trudged back to the couch where Daichi had fallen into a slumber of liquor. ---------------------- How many shots had they had? Y/n couldn’t tell anymore. Daichi was seated next to her, drunkenly giggling at everything that happened on the tv before him. His speech was slurred, his smile crooked and his eyes drooping just a bit. In her drunken state, Daichi appeared like some greek sex god, perfectly chiseled with a beautiful sheen coating his lips. Maybe it was the alcohol but she went from horny to sad in two seconds. 

“Man, can you believe I’m going to die a virgin?” Y/n slurred, hiccuping between some words. At that moment, it was like the alcohol began to drain from his system. Daichi sat up from his previously slouched position, the haze in his eyes clearing as he turned to look at Y/n who was practically a starfish on the couch. Was this what she had been worrying about? Dying a virgin? Why would she die a virgin? She still had plenty of years waiting for her. 

“What do you mean? You’ve got plenty of years to look for that one person.” Daichi tilted his head, his eyes widening as she practically threw herself on top of him. Her head was resting in the crook of his neck, her arms wrapping around his body. Daichi gently wrapped his arms around her, almost flinching when the first few hot tears fell onto his bare neck. Was it the alcohol? Did something happen?

“Please... Please just tell me you’ll be here until the end, please just tell me it’s going to be okay...” He could feel the way her body trembled against his, her hands balling the material of his shirt into her fists. He could hear the shaky breaths and stutters that would escape from her lips. Had he missed something? Did the liquor screw her over that bad? Although that sudden confession had sobered him up a bit, the murky haze of tequila still fogged his mind.

"Of course I’m gonna be here until the end. We’re friends until the end, remember? No matter what happens we’ll be together, always.” His hand gently rested atop her head, his other hand rubbing her back to soothe the ache that radiated from her chest. “I’ll always be by your side, okay? As long as the sun rises and sets, I’ll be here.” Daichi whispered, his lips pressing against the top of her head, watching with a tender gaze as she fell asleep. --------------------------------------------------- When Y/n woke up she was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. Daichi was gone and the bottles and shot glasses were put away in their cabinet. When she looked at the coffee table she saw a yogurt drink and fruit sandwich, a snack that Daichi would often leave her when he had to leave early for whatever reason. She could feel a smile forming on her face as she tossed the blanket to the side, stretching her arms above her head before reaching to grab the drink. Before her fingers could even brush against the pink bottle, she felt a sudden burst of nausea ram her head and throat. She stood as quickly as she could, her legs doing their best to rush her to the restroom. 

She felt her knees hit the cold bathroom floor, her body practically folding in on itself. Her throat was burning, the bitter taste of vomit mixing with the metallic taste of blood as her mouth hung open. Tears dripped from her cheeks before hitting the curve of the toilet seat mixing in with stray droplets of blood and sick. Her body fell back, hitting the bathroom wall and jolting her from her nauseous trance. With trembling hands, she wiped the sick from her mouth. She was crying, the sting of her throat, and the terrible ache in her stomach becoming unbearable. She stayed on the floor like that for a good minute, trying her hardest to catch her breath, but it felt like fire rushing her throat with each breath she took. 

She sobbed as she grabbed onto the edge of the sink, forcing herself to stand no matter how badly her aching body protested. All she had to do was stand and open the medicine cabinet, that’s all she had to do and she could finally rest. Her hands gripped onto the edge of the sink with such force that her knuckles began to pale. Each breath she took rattled her bones, the wheezing becoming much more prominent the longer she held herself up. She couldn’t tell if it was her body recoiling from her illness or if it was her body rejecting the copious amount of alcohol she drank. The doctor did warn her to not take alcohol with her medication, but what did she have to lose right? It was times like these that Y/n was convinced that her parents feared her death more than her. 

She of course understood why they felt broken, they were going to lose their daughter, but it should have been all the more reason to make these last few months count. Y/n shook her head as she grabbed her bottles of pills from the cabinet. She was going to make sure she kept her pain under control. No one had to know what was going on with her, she didn’t want people to treat her differently just because she was on the cusp of death. 

She could see it now, people being especially nice to her, everyone being careful of what they say to her, Daichi, Suga, and Asahi tending to her every need. It wasn’t something she wanted to live with, after all, she was a prideful person and pity didn’t sit right with her. She was almost too weak to twist the top, her muscles aching as she strained to open the bottle. It's okay, Y/n thought to herself, a sad smile on her lips. 

She had trudged to her room almost immediately after taking her pills, her body collapsing against the firm mattress. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, the fact that she didn’t think about it. Maybe she should have paid attention to it, but who wanted to think about their impending death? And so with a depressive sigh, she let her body sink into the cradling arms of sleep, her mind nestling deep into her future escapades with Daichi. 

“Number 7, spend a night stargazing.” ------------------------------- Daichi had been anything but focused during practice. At this point, he had run more laps than Noya and Tanaka combined and had done the most dives out of everyone on the team. He was missing passes left and right, consistently coming in short on one thing or another. Though perhaps, what scared his teammates the most was the empty look in his eyes. Had something happened? “Noya.” They were putting away equipment when Daichi spoke. His voice and words hung heavy in the air, dragging enough to weigh down clouds. Noya turned abruptly, his eyes wide. “What’s that one joke about never losing you, Tanaka, and Y/n make all the time?” Daichi questioned, his eyes focused on the handle of the mop in his hands. 

“I’m gonna die a virgin, cause I ain’t ever lose, why?” Noya stared at Daichi, desperately awaiting a response from his out of character captain. Daichi could feel his eyebrows furrow as his mind began to race. Was he looking too deep into it?

Daichi pondered the same thing over and over again while laying on his bed. Y/n was a silly person, there wasn’t a day that went by where one stupid joke after another burst from her lips. Maybe he just missed the joke?

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

Daichi sighed as he turned onto his side, his eyes locking onto the evergrowing stack of polaroids that sat on his desk. It had become an unintentional tradition. Every year they would take a trip and on that trip, they would always take a photo. She was always beaming in those photos, her smile as radiant as ever. She was herself in those photos, and Daichi couldn't help but notice that she became less and less like herself this past year. He had to be imagining it though, right? ---------------------------------- Suga stared at Daichi with sad eyes. He looked happy, giving vague details over one of the last nights he had spent with her. Perhaps it was still too fresh, the wound of her death would not heal for a while. With time Daichi would probably be able to give more detailed descriptions, but not now. Not here. 

"I find it ironic. I spent most of my life taking care of her. I spent most of my life making sure she didn't get in trouble, and even when she did, I would get her out of it." Daichi's voice was shaking, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The tears began to pool into his eyes once more, his jaw clenching. "I spent so much time taking care of her, and in the end, she was the one looking out for me. She made sure I was happy. She made sure I was sheltered. She worked so hard to build stability for us those last few months, but nothing could have prepared us for the end." Suga took a step towards Daichi, flinching as Daichi abruptly stepped back, accidentally crushing the yellow chrysanthemums that sat atop her grave. 

Daichi's head snapped down, staring at the yellow flowers with anger. Yellow chrysanthemums. They meant farewell, they meant goodbye, they meant that she was gone. Why couldn't people understand that she wasn't gone? Daichi shook his head before turning to leave the cemetery. He didn't want to be there any longer.

As Daichi left, Suga stared after him, a frown tugging at his lips. Suga sighed, crouching to try and fix the flowers back onto her grave with care. It was obvious to him that Daichi still needed to heal. He just hoped it would be soon, he knew that it was probably killing her to see Daichi in such a state. 

"Y'know, you always were the only one that could calm him down. I just hope you can still cast your light on him, even if just for a moment, Y/n..." Suga whispered, smiling tenderly at the plot of land covered in white and yellow flowers before making his leave as well.

[jiminscalicokitten]

Graceful (One-Shot)

Pairing:  Reader / Jimin

Genre: nobody!reader, dance major!jimin college!au 

Summary: Getting your ass dragged by your best friend to a party that you really didn’t want to go to has it’s perks. Getting to know the graceful dancing king Jimin in ways you didn’t expect.

Rating: 18+ (If the warnings trigger you please don’t read.)

Warnings: swearing, oral (both receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, sobbing, penetrative sex,  dom!sub undertones, dom!jimin, sub!reader,  rough sex, aftercare.

Word Count: 2.1k

Notes: I tried writing a different style than mine! I hope you enjoy! Giving you a little something as you wait for part two of the Tae series. 

You regret accepting Tae’s invitation to this party. The music pounding straight to your brain. You look for Tae around the room. It’s extremely dim in here but you manage to spot swapping saliva with his boyfriend Kook. You sigh. Should you just leave? He was supposed to hang out with you, but there was a change of plans obliviously. 

You sit on the red couch in the middle of the living room, thoughts of waiting for Tae overwhelm you. Next to you, a couple sits arms rubbing each other aggressively as they start making out. What the hell is this party? Just a huge orgy. You sigh getting up off the couch, you walk to the kitchen in hopes to find something to quench your thirst. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you choke once you spot him. 

His dirty blonde hair looks so fluffy that you want to touch it so bad. He’s wearing a black loose fitted shirt, and a pair of black jeans. Seeing his collarbone you feel yourself getting wet. 

Jimin has been a part of your life for a long time. Oh no! You haven’t really spoken to him before, more like watched him from a distance. If he talks to you might just combust and fall apart. That effect doesn’t apply to only you, every girl in college feels that way. 

He’s perfect. As simple as a man can be he’s perfect. He’s the captain of the modern dance club. The first place you saw him was in his course performance, he was a sophomore and you were a junior. 

His moves were so graceful yet so sultry. At that moment you thought about how you’ve never seen someone so artistically pleasing. He has the talent to make any song his with his moves. The way his finger tips would caress his cheeks after he’d spin as flies across the stage got your cheeks in flames. 

Snapping back from the memory of his greatness, you realize that you’re still choking. On water. On water! You turn around not wanting him to see you dying in the corner, nothing would be more embarrassing for a nobody like yourself. 

Sipping on water hoping that it would lessen the torture, you’re wrong. You feel your esophagus constricts. Your coughs get louder. Dropping the glass, it shatters causing Jimin and whoever he was talking with to look at your bent figure choking.   

The embarrassment erupts through your body as you feel tears run down your cheeks. Jimin heads towards you, he taps against your back a few times and you gasp for air. 

Slowly slipping to the floor he catches you in his delicate arms. “You’ll hurt yourself with the glass.” His voice is as gentle as his grasp. You close your eyes attempting to level your breathing without coughing again. 

You’re still in his arms. You’re sure he feels your heart beating, your inhales and exhales as the scratchy feeling in your throat is leaving. “What did you drink?” He asks in a worried tone. “Water.” Your voice is almost non existent. You're not sure if it’s the coughing or the embarrassment at this point. 

His arms still holding your waist he leads you out of the kitchen into the hallway. Heading away from the living room into one of the rooms. You look at his face confused. Your cheeks go red once you notice how his lashes flutter against his cheek and how his lips pout in thought. 

“Where are we going?” You ask. He opens the door into a cute gray and gold themed bedroom. “My room.” He smiles as he helps you sit on his bed. The sheets are so soft to the touch that you just lay your back against the bed with a sigh. 

“You’re throwing this party?” You almost sound as if you're in disbelief. “No. My roommate is. Why? I don’t seem the type to throw parties?” He lifts his brow in amusement. 

“It’s not that… It’s just- Never mind.” You just don’t want him to know that you observe him like a creep when you see him. It’s not like you follow him but you still watch him when you can.

“What? Tell me? What do you assume about me Y/N?” He says his hand landing on your thigh. “How do you know my name?” Your eyes are about to fall out of your sockets. 

“You’re Jungkook’s boyfriend’s friend. I think? I’ve seen you hang out with them a couple of times.” He’s grin makes him look so innocent. Surprise takes over you when you realize. He’s noticed you, kinda? 

“You’re social, but you seem to like your alone time. You recharge like that. Maybe?” Your voice is timid. “You’re right. How did you know?” His hand moves up your thigh. 

“I’ve seen you sit by the tree near the college business building. Most of its students are too busy to sit outside, so it’s usually empty.” Eyes wondering to where his hand is laid.

“I am sorry for assu-” Your words get cut off by his lips. They feel soft against yours. You think he’d pull away, but his right knee places itself in between your thighs as he deepens the kiss. His hand cups your cheeks. 

“Sorry. I didn’t ask first-” You place your arm around the back of his neck pulling him back to kiss you. Your tongue fights for dominance to enter his mouth and he lets you with a soft moan, that causes the wetness between your legs to gush. 

“Would you strip for me babe?” He pulls himself off of your figure, at this point you’d do anything for the ethereal man that stands in front of you. You stand up pulling your gray T-shirt over your head. Your cheeks heat up realizing that you’re actually going to do this. 

Taking off your pants you stumble falling on your ass. You cover your face in embarrassment, waiting for him to laugh. “Damn you’re gorgeous.” He groans helping you up. “Take off the rest.” His voice becomes stern. 

You stood completely exposed, naked, vulnerable, and bare before his fully clothed figure. He gestures for you to come near him, he sits on the bed as his hand reaches for your right breast. 

“Goddamn.” He moans peppering kisses on your left breast as he squeezes the other. You feel a shiver rushing up your spine as he does so. His perfectly lush lips envelope your nipple, you release a moan. 

You can’t believe that it’s happening. The man that you admire from far is this close to you. Your hand lays on his fluffy hair for the first time. You close your fingers around locks of his hair and you tug against it causing him to moan against your tit. You stutter a groan feeling wetness travel down your thigh. 

His hand travels down your chest to your waist. He fingers squeeze your hip roughly as he suddenly gets up. He throws your body roughly against his bed. You feel a surprise to the change in his aura. 

He looks like a beast that’s about to eat you. hooking his arms under your legs to drag you forward. You moan at the feeling of him licking a stripe up your slit.

He laps at your juices, and your fingers grab onto his soft locks pulling them, gaining a groan from his lips, spreading your legs wider as he attaches his lips to your clit.  

He starts sucking tenderly, and you groan his name at the sensation of him slipping three digits inside of you, causing a squelch. You arch your back as he begins pumping them into you, curling them into your g-spot.

“Fuck, Jimin I am about to-,” you say. He groans against you, and you squeeze your thighs around his head of fluffy hair. All the pressure on his head makes him release a tune of sultry moans against your clit. You feel the vibrations go throughout you, and you throw your head back. 

Squirting against his face you expect him to stop. His fingers get rougher on your pussy and his sucking gets harder. Overstimulation takes over and you try to push him off of you. 

 He pulls away with a giggle, almost like he accomplished something no one ever has. Honestly, that’s not that far from the truth. No man you’ve slept with made you receive this feeling of ecstasy.  

He removes his top allowing you to feel his chest against your fingertips. You both stand up, he attempts to take off his pants, you start sucking hickies into his neck. “Wait. Stop. It tickles.” He giggles holding your waist with one hand as the other is unbuttoning his pants. 

The moment his pants are off, you pull his figure on top of yours as you lay against his sheets, lips still on his neck. His hands suddenly grab the back of your thigh pushing them up. You don’t think you're flexible enough for his second move. He places your knees on his shoulder, taking his girth in his hand to run along your folds. 

You shiver at the sensation as he teases you, and your clit’s throbbing and sensitive from when he ate you out earlier. “Do you want more? Little slut. Your juices are staining my bed.” He groans. You raised your hips trying to lure him. “I’m all yours to use.”

He cursed under his breath, grabbing your thighs to pull them apart, thrusting into you. You yelp, squeezing around his dick as both of you groan, hissing at the sensation. “You’re so tight,”  Jimin groans. “Oh, f-fuck.” 

“Use me, I’m all yours ” you urge, squeezing around his dick. “Fuck, You’re made for me.” 

You feel him growl against the curvature of your neck as he snaps and twists his hips against yours, making you cling to him as he begins fucking into you. “I fucking own you slut. I am going to destroy you.” he hisses, a grunt and thrust at each syllable. 

“Fuck.” you say, throwing your head back. True to his word, he was fucking into you so hard that the rocking bed was beginning to squeak at his movements. Tears start falling against your cheeks as you feel yourself reaching your high for the second time. 

“Jimin. Sto- stop, it hurts.” You try prying him off of you once you orgasm. “I thought you’re mine to use.” His thrusting slows yet deepens. “I can’t take it.” You sob. 

He pulls out, you expect him to lay next to you but he begins rubbing against your clit. You scream at the overstimulation. You squirt one final time with sobs erupting in the room.  

“Sorry. I am sorry, don't cry.” He wraps his arms around your lying figure. “No. It felt good.” You accept his embrace. “But what about you? You didn’t finish.” You hiccup. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He kisses your forehead then your lips. You unhurriedly get up feeling an ache in between your legs. You move down between his legs. “What are you doing?” He moves your hair out of your face. “I’m gonna try giving you a pinch of the feeling you gave me.” You wrap your hand around his length. 

After stroking him a few times you wrap your lips around his pretty cock. You haven’t really seen it this up close until now. And god how good it looks. Allowing your tongue to lick the underneath of his girth he releases a hiss. He suddenly moves you to sit on the floor as he begins bucking into your mouth. His arm covers his eyes as he hisses at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks.

You feel a rush of relief once he holds onto your face, swallowing around him you release a moan. He rolls his neck, giving you a raw, animalistic look as he fucks his hips up into your mouth, his hand curling into your hair tightly. His breath becomes ragged as you feel him growing in your mouth. 

Your nose burying into his pelvis, as he pushes one last time you squeeze your eyes shut, eyes glistening with tears, his load running down your throat as you swallow around him. He pulls out of your lips with a loud pop.

 He helps you into the bed next to him. Your nose lays on his neck as you inhale his scent. “What just happened?” You’re in disbelief that you just did that with the man of your dreams. “Why did you kiss me?” You look at his face. 

 “That’s what you want to ask?” He chuckles as he covers your bodies with the blanket. “You’re really cute and I wanted to tap that.” He spanks your ass. “Sorry if I went too hard.” He kissed your cheeks. 

“No. You’re graceful on stage and in bed.” You kiss his cheek. 

(© 2020 jiminscalicokitten, All Rights Reserved)

[eury--dice]

history, huh?

chapter 4: proxime

check the notes for links to other chapters and ao3!

(also would like to note a general cw for alcohol and child abuse in this chapter - see ao3/message me for more detail and please be safe and avoid if necessary)

Adam kind of wanted to go back and slap his former self before he could announce anything was “perfect.”

It was only once the turkeys were deposited in his room by blank-faced handlers that he began to regret his decision. The turkeys stared ominously at him, eerily silent for all of five seconds before they started to move and gobble.

And they didn’t stop.

SOS, he texted Ronan simply, receiving a lone question mark in reply. 

  iMessage chat to HRH shitty bird boy

Resumed 28 November, 2019, 12:36 am

  It’s the turkeys. I saved taxpayers needless expense and now they’re going to peck me to death. 

  told you to stop playing the hero, Parrish. 

  NOW IS NOT THE TIME

CORNBREAD IS EYEING ME

Some support would be appreciated here

  i’m going to assume that cornbread is one of the turkeys and not a sentient loaf of cornmeal?

  No, Your Highness, I’ve been performing a complicated experiment involving a snack to see if it can gain intelligence. The crocheted eyes appear to be working.

No shit, Sherlock, good assumption. 

And excuse you, in the South, we make cornbread with real corn. 

  if you’re going to jest don’t include hobbies that seem plausible

  The science experiment or the crocheting?

  both. 

  When would I do either of those?

  fuck if i know, that’s your business. 

  Oh shit oh shit oh shit

Meatloaf is gobbling again.

Is gobbling a precursor to attack? 

Would google it but I’m too afraid to take my eyes off of the dinos.

  gobbling is widely known as a war declaration amongst turkeys 

i’m surprised a smartarse like you wouldn’t know this.

  Oh, fuck it, Adam thought, and before he could talk himself out of it and resign himself to a night of gobbling, the dial icon had been tapped and the glass of his phone felt cool against his hearing ear. 

“Have you ever shared close quarters with a turkey?”

Adam could feel Ronan’s unimpressed silence through the phone. “No, I have not. Why the hell would I?”

“Privileged,” Adam muttered. “You don’t know how sadistic these turkeys are.” 

Cornbread chose that moment to gobble rather loudly and antagonistically. Adam’s eyes snapped to the bird, his muscles freezing in pure fear. “Sorry,” he whispered. 

“Christ,” Ronan said, and his tone had softened somewhat. “Did a turkey make that noise?”

“Yep,” Adam breathed. 

“That is not natural,” he insisted. “What the fuck?”

“I told you!”

A squawk sounded on Ronan’s end, and when Ronan spoke his voice was a great deal gentler than it had been. “Good baby, your noises aren’t demonic…”

“I’ll assume you’re not speaking to me.”

“Fuck no. Every word out of your mouth comes straight from hell.” There was a muffled rustling nose, something that was probably feathers against skin. 

“Your bird?”

“Raven. Keep up, please.”

“Ravens are birds,” Adam said, but it was probably futile. “What’s its name again?”

There was a brief pause on Ronan’s end. “Her name is Chainsaw.”

Adam’s voice fell flat in response. “Chainsaw.”

He heard a kerah. “Something wrong with that?” Ronan said, his accent drawing out the o in ‘wrong’ like it was already a guilty verdict .

“It just doesn’t seem very...royal. Or bird-like.”

“It’s a good cry better than cornbread and stuffing.”

“I didn’t name them,” Adam defended. “Blame the American people.”

“But I already blame them for so much.”

“Add it to the laundry list.” Adam flinched back as the other turkey squawked deafeningly. 

It was the first time he and Ronan had spoken on the phone, and until then, he hadn’t even realized it. All it took was Cornbread’s evil gaze to snap him into reality. 

Silence settled between them for a moment. Adam barely dared to breathe between the awkwardness of his conversation with Ronan and his clearly impending doom at the hands of something only distantly related to dinosaurs. 

“If you get mauled by those turkeys, may I give the eulogy at your funeral?”

Adam snorted, drawn back to the feeling of the phone clenched in his hand. “Ignoring the fact that I’m the son of the President and you’re the Prince of England, absolutely.” 

“Good. I’m already drafting turkey-related jokes.”

“Don’t you dare dishonor me by bringing up the cause of my demise.”

“It’s a good thing Cornbread will have clawed your esophagus out and you’ve no possible way to object.”

“Jesus.” Adam shivered. “Now I have a third part to my nightmare.”

“I would trade you Chainsaw, but she goes for the eyes and I have the feeling you’d rather keep those.”

“Your feeling is correct.”

“Also, I would fucking die for her.”

“...Strong feelings, apparently, for a bird that doesn’t seem royal-approved.”

“That’s half the reason I love her,” Ronan admitted. “Most definitely not approved.”

“Just like your tattoo?”

The line went quiet for a moment. “Yes,” Ronan finally said. “Just like my tattoo.”

That line was back, and Adam inched ever-closer to touching it with his toes.

“No trade, then. I’ll just slowly perish alone in my room. If this causes a fiasco in the press be sure to make fun of me properly.”

“Of course,” Ronan said, just as Stuffing let out a deafening gobble. “Can’t you get Sargent to intimidate them into silence? Or, wait, is it charming them into liking her? I can’t figure her out from your description.”

“Knowing Blue it could be either,” Adam admitted. “And she’s...busy.”

“Busy how?”

“Back in Virginia busy.” Adam stretched out his shoulder, keeping a wary eye on the turkeys. 

“Virginia? With family?”

“Most of her family is Maura, and she’s still here,” Adam hedged, weighing the little he knew about the Sargent family with what he could say to Ronan. “But yeah, of a sort. Thanksgiving’s a rough time of year. She’s trying to help out, even though it’s not technically where she’s from. Raising money, ensuring shelter, I think she’s even got a protest planned.”

“Different shade of Sargent, then.”

“Same shade,” Adam corrected. “Different circumstances.”

Ronan hummed on the other end of the line. Adam scrambled for words, trying to lighten up the air. Stuffing squawked as though to mock his tied tongue.

“She’s been busy for the last few weeks, anyway.”

“What type of busy would this busy be?”

"Just start a new sentence. You sound ridiculous." Ronan stayed silent to his jab, clearly electing to ignore him. “...Date busy.”

“Good for her,” Ronan said, but he must have heard something else in Adam’s silence because he continued. “Wait. No. No fucking way. Not with Gansey?”

“Yes with Gansey.”

“Wow, third wheeling’s gotta be even more fucking awkward, huh?”

“God, I hope not.”

“The way you described them I thought they’d never wake up to it.”

“Me too,” Adam said. “And I’m thrilled for them, but I’m also very offended that their feelings are getting in the way of saving me. Gansey went with her.”

“Oh, you drama queen. Just sleep in Gansey’s room if the gobbling is that bad.”

“They can escape, Ronan, I swear to you. They’re like the raptors-”

“They’re named after fatty foods. You’ll be alright. Go the fuck to sleep.”

“...Yeah, alright. But you need to sleep too.”

“Wouldn't dream of letting you sleep alone,” Roman replied, his tone dry. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

As Adam let his phone fall onto his pillow, Stuffing chose to bash her wings against the cage. After almost falling out of his bed in fright, Adam quickly decided that Ronan might have been onto something about sleeping in Gansey’s room. 

If he made it through the night, he owed Ronan a thank you.

  ***

Christmas rolled around with a mighty fervor.

It felt like one moment, Adam was sitting back down in class after Thanksgiving to crack down on some new essays, and the next he was watching evergreens and pine decorations get thrown up along White House walls in perfect synchrony. 

The normal White House Christmas was an ordeal, one that did its best to stress family but mostly stressed political strategy. Nothing changed that year to make it different, but they did have a smaller affair in addition to all the festivities. Christmas Eve was, in many ways, the eye of the storm. An extreme amount of chaos was behind them, and a deluge to follow come Christmas morning, but Christmas Eve dinner was dependable, private, and blessedly relaxed. Adam, somehow, found himself looking forward to it. 

He sat on one of the staircases - it really didn’t matter which one, as they all blent together, only distinguishable by where they could take him - with the decorations hanging around him and a book in his lap. For once, there wasn’t any work, and even the most work-centered version of himself was forced to concede and enjoy a few hours of pleasure reading. He had grabbed the first book he could find off of his shelf and set off. Apparently, his hand had gravitated towards Fahrenheit 451. Not exactly light enough to match the twinkling reds and golds he spotted in his periphery no matter how he turned, but a personal choice all the same. 

“If you keep sitting on staircases, someone is going to walk into you,” came Gansey’s voice from behind him. 

“It’s their fault for not watching their way,” said Adam. “I’m sitting with my back to them. How am I expected to know?”

“By not sitting on staircases,” Gansey repeated. The air rustled as Gansey lowered to sit on the step next to Adam. “Some nice, light reading?”

“Yes. Everything okay?”

“Grand. Mostly just avoiding Helen unpacking and my parents stressing over napkin rings.”

“Gansey Christmas sounds wonderful,” Adam said dryly. “I assume they’ll all be here tonight?”

“Of course. They’d never miss it.”

“Helen is well?”

“Fantastic, apparently. Primed to get engaged soon, she says, and the helicopter’s got a new paint job.”

Adam could almost forget how much the Ganseys looked like a new Kennedy-like dynasty, but their swarming every year always reminded him. Their Christmas photos, too - always at DC landmarks, bleached teeth and ghost-pale skin and all-American born and bred grins. And the occasional snap stories from Helen of her mid-piloting a flying vessel didn’t help. 

“Glad to hear it,” he said, not surprised to find the words genuine. 

He got to see the Gansey family anxiety for himself only a few hours later, donned in an ugly Christmas sweater Blue had insisted on. Mr. Gansey cast a discerning eye around the room while Mrs. Gansey smiled tightly at his side, dressed pristinely. Helen chatted idly with Blue, though Blue looked prepared to bolt at a moment's notice. 

“Ho-ho-horseshit?” Maura questioned, snapping him away from his reverie and gazing around like a caged animal. Her eyes traced over the pattern on his shirt. 

“Blue’s homemade gift,” he said by way of response, to which Maura only sighed heavily. Her sudden appearance reminded him he had a task to perform, the small handled bag digging into his palm suddenly given a purpose. He held the bag out to Maura with a small grimace, watching one of her eyebrows quirk. “I was told to give you this.”

Maura withdrew an identical sweater from the bag. “Sending you to do her dirty work, hm?”

“I suppose so.”

“Hm,” was all Maura replied, until she lifted her analytical gaze to him. “Thanks, Adam,” she said, and in one of the greatest surprises of the night, slid her arm over his shoulders and drew him into a quick hug. “Now sit down. We’ve gotta start wrangling dinner if we want this to end before midnight.”

Adam took his place next to Gansey at the smaller table, unfolding a napkin and laying it across his lap. The gals at the table slowly began to fill in as Gansey chatted about the recent tabloid conjectures. 

“The youngest is back in the tabloids, you know, trying to get him on drug use again.”

“Oh, really?” Adam muttered, eyes scanning idly over the periphery of the room. His eyes snagged on the Christmas decorations, simpler than the majority of the White House decor. A few string lights here and there, hanging baubles, the occasional pile of fake snow. His finger tapped at the stem of his empty wine glass. 

“Last time he disappeared for public for a while. Heaven knows if that’ll happen again.”

He felt an itch inside his deaf ear, one he knew he wouldn’t be able to reach. “Disappeared?” 

“Yeah, just...gone, no public appearances…”

It was a vague memory, or perhaps a memory of a memory.  Just a snatch of something that made the hairs in the back of his neck stand up. He tried to focus on Gansey’s words, but all at once they started sliding around, unclear and blending with the too-loud noises of dinner being served. A cacophony of clacks and laughs and voices. His head burned. 

Gansey’s voice lowered. “Are you alright, Adam?”

He scooted his chair backward quickly, muttering something like “back in a minute” to Gansey before rushing away. He felt eyes on the back of his head, but he didn’t pause or slow until the door to his bedroom shut firmly behind him and he leaned against it, completely alone. 

“Parrish?” Ronan’s voice said in his ear, low and urgent, and oh. Adam hadn’t even realized his phone was in his hand, much less that he’d managed to press Ronan’s contact or raise it to his ear. He did briefly remember the ringing, but then words were falling out of his mouth and he didn’t waste any more brainpower on how he reached that position.

“I don’t want to…to bother you,” Adam said, and only someone who had known him for a long time would know how much it took Adam to say those words despite the fact that it was a mantra in his head repeating infinitely. Blue, who had known him since the age of five, had heard him say it only a handful of times. Gansey had heard it perhaps a handful more, though that was mostly because Adam felt strangely indebted to Gansey no matter how much he tried to change it. Ronan should not have known, but Adam had a feeling he would anyway. “You hate phones and it’s Christmas Eve and-”

“Adam,” Ronan said abruptly, and the use of his first name stopped him short. “It’s two in the morning. I’m just with Matthew. Talk.”

“Hi, Adam,” came a cheerful voice, somehow sounding like an even better picture-perfect British monarchy member than Ronan or Declan. “Ronan’s told me everything about how he-”

Adam missed Ronan’s ensuing muttered comment, something that most likely resembled a threat, but soon the voice that Adam assumed to be Mathew let out a trailing laugh, the sound growing fainter as he likely moved away from the phone.

“And fuck you!” Ronan called, with his mouth moved away from the receiver, before his attention returned to Adam. “He’s gone now.”

“It’s okay,” Adam said. “I didn’t mind.”

“I know,” Ronan said simply. “But I thought it might be easier. Now go.”

“I-I just,” Adam fumbled with his words for a moment, his free hand curling into a fist on his thigh. He felt, strangely, like he was back in Aglionby PE class trying to participate in a football scrimmage. He’d always come just short of catching the ball. He’d known what he was supposed to do, where his hands were supposed to go, the sequence of events following the initial contact, even the proper footwork. But whenever the ball reached him, he felt the disconcerting motion of closing his arms around nothing, always a second too early or too late, leather slipping from his arms like butter in a hot pan. “Couldn’t be at that dinner any longer.”

“Why?” Ronan asked, and it was a good question, a good question that Adam had avoided so many times over he barely knew how to respond. He almost deflected like he always did, but Ronan asked the question differently than everyone else. There was no expectation in the question, no real drive to know the answer other than making Adam feel better, no guarantee of hearing the full truth or any version of the truth at all. Why. Why respond now?

“I was little,” he said, and fuck why did he go down this road at all? “And everything was overwhelming when I was little, and everything is overwhelming now, but it’s even more overwhelming at Christmas.” Ronan didn’t say it again, but still, it traveled across an ocean to hover over Adam uncertainly. Why?

“I don’t remember a lot about it. I don’t know if that’s because of...how it was, or just because I was so small. Younger than three, I think.”

“I barely remember anything from then,” Ronan said, the closest thing to reassurance Adam had received from him.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “Yeah. I guess. But I remember...I remember the double-wide. The great American double-wide in the great American trailer park with the great American alcohol and the great, raging American father.”

Ronan’s breath shifted ever so slightly.

Adan screwed his eyes shut. “I don’t...my mother wasn’t there. But she was the one who put the Christmas lights up. I couldn’t stop staring at them. I can still remember...they made the tan wall look almost golden. Just where the lights touched it, of course.” His voice trailed off, realizing how tangential it sounded. Softly, he added “I don’t know why I remember those lights.”

“Our minds remember random things,” Ronan said, perhaps to bring Adam back to the story.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, blinking quickly. “Yeah. He didn’t...he didn’t like that. Me looking at them, I mean. So he...he took them down.”

The silence pressed in at his ears, threatening to close in on him just like walls. 

“I see,” Ronan said. 

“And he…” Adam swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple scratch tightly against his neck. He pressed his free hand to his deaf ear. “I don’t remember a lot after that, either. But the bulbs were...hot. It was freezing inside, so they should have been, too, but they were lightbulbs, I guess, and so they were hot. At some point, I fell into a railing. It burst my left eardrum.” At that moment, he could feel that second in startling clarity - pinpricks and needles and blood vessels dancing on his skin, sharp, pointed, wild attacks, and the loudest noise he’s ever heard in his life, making him collapse to the ground and forget everything else. Pain, bright and white and flashing and throbbing in time with his heartbeat until he wanted to melt into the floor. Adam was the better part of two decades removed from it, and still, the thought of that moment made his stomach turn over and over.

Adam knew he didn’t imagine Ronan’s intake of breath then.

“And my mother got home, and when she saw we left and never came back.”

The walls pressed closer to him until Ronan said “Well, shit. Fuck. Jesus.”

Adam brought his hand to his mouth, pressing it until the pressure began to ease up in his gut. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, muffled against his fingers.

“No, shit, Parrish. Don’t you dare apologize.” There was a quick exhale, something that sounded like leather sliding down a headboard. “That’s what you remember of Christmas?’

“Yeah. I don’t - I don’t remember a whole lot.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

Not even Blue and Gansey knew that story. They knew the vague details, of course, how his smiles turned tight around the White House decorations and he preferred to slip into his room early on holidays. And that Robert was the reason for his being deaf in one ear. He could just never get the entire story out around them.

Telling Ronan about it was easy, though, in a way that it shouldn’t have been. He was supposed to hate Ronan, even if it became more clear with every passing day that he was far from hatred. 

“I guess I should. It’s not like I’ve done any of that in a long time.”

“You don’t have to.” A slight pause. “I can.”

Adam tried to keep the doubt out of his voice. “You can?”

For a brief moment, Adam thought Ronan might hang up on him. But then he said, “Can I tell you a secret, Parrish?”

After everything I just put on you, you could tell me a thousand secrets. You know I’ll keep every single one. I’m trusting you with a story that no one else knows, that no one else will ever know. I could do nothing less than keep your secret. 

All he said was “Of course.”

“You know my Irish father? My Irish storytelling father? My Irish-Catholic father?”

“Right.”

“He passed down more to me than just his Irish stories.”

It took Adam’s brain a moment to catch up. “I...see.”

“All three of us...well, behind closed doors, that’s what we practice. Believe. Whatever shit you want.”

“Right. So no… C of E.”

“On the record, of course. Off the record...no. None at all.”

Adam hummed in response. He couldn’t think of what else to say. 

“So...I will. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah. Of course.” A knock sounded on the door, sounding suspiciously like Gansey’s familiar tapping. He rose slowly, crossing to fall onto his bed. “I should probably let you go. Don’t want you to have too prolonged contact with any screens.”

“Disgusting,” Ronan said. A beat passed. “Are you a bit better?”

Adam shut his eyes, feeling the tension coiled in his chest ease up slightly. The line between the two of them materialized at his feet, on the backs of his lids, and he could nearly touch it with the toe of his shoes. “Yes,” he admitted. “Thank you.” And of all the words for Adam to say, they were the easiest and hardest to accomplish.

“Thank you,” Ronan said, and if Adam didn’t know any better he would think the words sounded harder to say for Ronan than Adam. But the line clicked and fell dead before Adam could say anything. He stared at the phone for a moment until the screen switched off from disuse, leaving him in the dark. Only then did he stand and cross the room to perch on the edge of his bed.

Gansey’s head poked through his doorway. He hesitated as though asking for permission, and Adam nodded. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

“It’s fine,” Adam hedged. “We were wrapping up.”

Gansey fell heavily into Adam’s desk chair just as he always did. “Everything alright?”

“Now it is, yeah.”

He seemed to be trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. “That wasn’t Noah, was it?”

“No, of course not.”

Gansey nodded once. “So it was Ronan.”

“What?” Adam sat up a little too quickly, blood rushing to his head. “Why would you say - how do you-?”

“You don’t exactly have a wide circle of friends. Guessing is easy.”

“I hate your knowledge of my loneliness.” He swallowed roughly. “And we’re not... friends.” 

Gansey cocked one eyebrow. His thumb raised to run over his lower lip. “Really?” He challenged.

And, well. No. Not really. Adam thought of their strings of messages, the trade of information between them so easy and simple. He couldn’t pretend that they were enemies anymore, or that their general feelings weren’t positive.

“Really,” He said, launching himself up off of his bed. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants, he glanced back over to his friend. Gansey was studying him with a distantly memorable expression, as though trying to discern a difficult Latin translation but determined not to ask for help. 

“Well,” Gansey said, blinking once, twice. He stood abruptly, noting Adam moving towards the door. “Let’s off, then.” “You’re not British, Gansey, don’t say that.”

“Mm, you’d know all about their phrases, wouldn’t you?”

“Do not.”

Before Adam reached the door, Gasney stopped him, saying his name so lowly Adam almost missed it. He turned and waited for Gansey to speak.

“Are you sure you can go back?” Adam mustered a smile. No, he thought, but Ronan’s voice echoed in his head. Don’t apologize. Maybe he could make it through after all, have a slightly better memory of Christmas. “Yeah, I am.” And he turned the doorknob to let them spill out into the hallway.

  ***

iMessage chat to HRH shitty bird boy

Resumed 29 December, 2019, 5:17 pm

  Look. I’m just saying.

Ignoring the fact that bearer bonds haven’t been legally in use since 1982

That henchman says that they’re valued at $100,000 USD

(£75,700 for your British ass)

and then Alan Rickman says they earn 20%

When the interest rate on corporate bonds was 9% when Die Hard came out??

And also there’s never been a US bond worth more than $10,000??

  stop letting sargent force you to watch die hard

for the love of god stop

it’s a MOVIE

  It’s not Blue, actually.

It’s your best friend.

  henry??? how??

  Netflix party

He got my number (thanks for that)

And wouldn’t stop texting insisting we watch it

Or he (as threatened) will “release the bees??”

I’m not sure what he meant but here I am. 

Accidentally desecrating Alan Rickman’s legacy.

Blue’s here too but it’s not her fault, at least.

  that asshole

how dare i not be included in everything he does

  “Why the hell is Ronan on the guest list?” Adam demanded, casting his eyes over their virtual list for what felt like the hundredth time. Planning for their New Year’s Eve fundraising event/PR dream/blowout party had been well underway since before Christmas, but crucial developments always occurred in the weeklong stretch between Christmas and New Year’s. Like the inclusion of the Prince of England on their exclusive invitation list of all the most famous and powerful twenty-somethings from around the planet.

Blue, seated sideways in an armchair and eating a container of strawberry yogurt at a glacial pace, said “I thought you added him?” 

Adam wouldn’t put it past her to add him and feign innocence - she had some hidden agenda with him and Ronan, anyway, one he wasn’t quite sure of - but her ignorance seemed genuine. At once, they both turned to Gansey. He kept his face blank.

“Good question, Adam,” he said, refusing to back down under their stares. “But the real question is why didn’t you invite him?”

Adam, too, did his best to look passive. “Why would I?”

“He’s your only friend that’s not currently in this room?”

“Plus he’s great for the press,” Blue chimed in.

Adam just looked between them, and Gansey sighed.

“Look, Adam, it’s - it’s great that you actually get along with him. Like him.”

“Do not,” Adam retorted automatically. His phone buzzed, and he felt his cheeks darken a little with the knowledge that it was probably Ronan. Gansey and Blue were probably staring at each other and having one of their silent conversations, but he didn’t trust himself to look at them without giving anything away. Not that there was anything to give away. “You invited Cheng too, right? Ronan won’t come if he doesn’t.” “Thought you didn’t care?” Blue asked, and he shrugged.

“They’ve both RSVP’d yes, Adam, so I’m sure your best friend will be there.”

“Lovely,” Adam muttered, ushering them along the rest of their planning.

Just before eight PM on the thirty-first of December, Adam curled into his desk chair with a textbook perched on his bent knees. Blue, already dressed and made up while laying spread-eagle on his bed, fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She’d managed to convince PR that a self-designed outfit would make a splash, and Adam had to agree with her - she really did have a knack for design and upcycling. 

Technically, they should have been heading down to play host to all types of young, influential people, buttering them up for cash and future favors. But much as the media loved their wild parties, none of the White House Trio were particularly fond of them. They preferred a quieter scene, but quiet didn’t raise money and make headlines. 

That didn’t mean they couldn’t hole up and enjoy the peace and quiet before then.

Gansey, who by far had the greatest social battery, was therefore left to field early attendants and the press on the lawn. He’d come and drag them out of Adam’s room soon enough, of course, but before that time came there was relative peace.

“I guess we’ll get one more of these,” Blue said. “At least.”

Adam lifted his eyes from the book and looked at her. “Yes,” he said softly. “I think I’ll miss them?”

She laughed, a deep laugh that eased a bit of the pre-party anxiety in his chest. “I won’t. I hate this party.”

“But don’t you like flirting with all the daughters of Oscar-winning actresses?”

Blue hummed. “That is fun. They’re never ready for it.”

“They never are.”

“I’ll be doing less of that this year, though.”

“And hopefully forever?” Adam teased. The sudden air of wistfulness descending around Blue gave him a hint of pause. She took a moment to respond.

”Maybe,” she muttered. “Shut up.”

Adam let it go for then, sensing genuine distress in Blue’s stiffened shoulders.

“They wouldn’t be so bad if everyone didn’t get so blacked out.”

“Well, we have liability waivers now. And I think you mean it would be worse.”

Adam sighed. “I guess no one would show up without the promise of alcohol.”

“Exactly.”

Contrary to how Blue and Gansey made him live, Adam really didn’t enjoy drinking that much. When he did, he preferred to do so quietly - sitting in the music room with the rest of the trio, celebrating a good grade with his family, breaking out something to make a night-in a little more exciting. Events like the Royal Wedding were a one-off, where he needed distraction and alcohol presented itself. 

He didn’t want to think about the need for distraction just then, with Ronan and Henry Cheng most likely en route to the White House.

A few quick, precise knocks came at the door. Gansey. He popped his head in.

“You two need to show up soon or it’s going to look suspicious,” he greeted. Blue made a tiny noise of discontent and made to turn her face into Adam’s pillow, but must have remembered her makeup and decided otherwise.

Adam heaved a sigh and stood, smoothing one hand over his hair. He’d straightened and smoothed it down for the event, knowing the cameras preferred him in all of his polished glory. He glanced between Blue and Gansey, but their gazes didn’t flicker from each other. Something about the hunger in their eyes made Adam ache, a tight knot settled in his chest. Gansey moved into the room and Adam out of it. He cast a glance through the doorway over his shoulder, trying to gauge if he should wait for them. By the low, urgent whispers carrying between them and Gansey’s hands rested on Blue’s elbows as they stood nearly flush, his presence was no longer necessary. 

Adam trailed down the hallowed halls until he reached the mingling mass of people in the East Room. He turned on his smile, trying his best to become invisible. It didn’t work. At every turn, another person grabbed his shoulder to catch up, another drink pressed into his hand, another question hurled his way. At some point, he started to feel a bit numb in the fingers, tiredness and giddiness from the schmoozing seeping into his bones.

Blue appeared at his side. Her smile had dampened somewhat, but he could tell she was enjoying herself from the set of her brows. Something, however, was off at just that moment. She inclined her head behind her, and that was all the explanation Adam needed. 

Ronan often had that upsetting effect on people. 

Adam took a moment to observe the scene. Ronan and Henry Cheng stood several feet away, engaged in conversation with Gansey, who walked backwards tidily through the crowd as though herding them towards Adam. Ronan’s face remained passive, clad in his black-leather best. Adam’s skin felt hot and itchy under his shirt, and he looked instead to Cheng. In his Madonna t-shirt, Cheng drew attention to himself in waves. Between his eccentric origin story and absently friendly expression, not to mention the excited manner in which he partook in whatever Gansey was saying, Cheng would surely be the hot commodity of the party. 

“Making friends?” Adam asked Blue, pulling a face at the same time she did. 

“He’s your best friend,” she replied just as Gansey reached them. Blue reached out a hand to stop him from colliding with them, stretching her arm so that it was almost straight, and he caught her hand easily with a squeeze.

From what Adam could tell, their conversation centered around some vague school memory from Eton, but it dissolved as soon as Blue and Adam broke their circle. The brief silence was broken quickly by Henry Cheng, who announced, “Well, if it isn’t the man with the worst opinions about Die Hard.” 

Against his will, Adam felt the corners of his lips twitch. “And the man who cried over Alan Rickman dying in Die Hard.”

Henry shrugged. “I wear my emotions proudly.”

“We fucking know,” Ronan said, breaking his silence. Adam hated how nicely the tight leather jacket accented his pale skin and high cheekbones, looking almost regal in his rebellion. “You monologued about the unbridled joy in your heart over the Madonna song playing when we first arrived.”

Henry grinned. “I will not apologize for being stable in my masculinity, Ronan, unlike all you repressed British types.”

“I need a drink,” Ronan declared loudly, plucking one from the closest tray and downing it in one graceful motion as one might serve a tennis ball. Henry did not appear phased by the sudden dramatics. 

“Now, let’s see if I get everyone.” He turned his head to Gansey, moving around the circle. “We’ve got King Ganseyman, of course. Adam Parrish, the least valid person I can think of for purely petty reasons. And of course our dear Periwinkle.”

Adam cocked a brow and subtly shifted his eyes to look at Blue. She looked fit to claw out someone’s eye even though her own eye scars were obscured in makeup; her hand had tightened significantly around Gansey’s, and he gave no indication of pain from the movement beyond the barest twitch of his mouth. 

“Clever,” she said at last, sparing him a tight, sarcastic smile. “I’ve also read the labels on nail polish to pick up a few new words. It’s nice to know you can read.”

“Yes, well, you have to start your journey to literacy somewhere,” Henry said grandly. “I appreciate your support, of course.”

Adam caught a flicker of amusement pass of Blue’s face. He had a sinking suspicion that maybe Blue wasn’t as averse to Cheng as she put on a show of. 

“Are you literate enough to read off a drink order?” she said. 

Henry grinned, white teeth lining in rows in his mouth. “I suppose I can string a few words together.”

Without letting go of Gansey, Blue surged forward, looping her other arm in Henry’s. The three of them trailed off towards the drinks, Blue and Henry moving determinedly and Gansey, bemused and grinning at their sudden acquaintanceship, lagging a step or so behind. Adam gazed after them for a moment, but Ronan took a step closer to be heard over the music and he turned his head to look at him. 

“She’s gonna have them wrapped up all night.”

Adam raised a brow. “You can read her that well?”

Ronan gave his head the tiniest, nearly imperceptible shake. “No. I know Cheng and Gansey.”

The heat of the room was starting to cling to Adam’s skin; he rolled one shoulder uncomfortably. “Of course. Eton gang’s reunited.”

“For better or worse,” Ronan agreed lowly. 

Adam meant to ask what he meant by that, but he never received the chance. A hand tapped Ronan firmly on the shoulder, and Adam watched as he turned automatically. His face broke into an uncharacteristic grin at the sight of the person behind him. Adam felt his forehead crease as the figure wrapped their arms around Ronan’s shoulders and he hugged them back almost as enthusiastically. For a moment, the only sight was the overlapping of pale and dark skin, the stranger’s feather-pink jacket contrasting with the black leather Ronan wore. 

Then the two separated, and between the black bralette, exuberant eyeshadow, and tight-coiled hair shining under the strobe lighting, Adam recognized Hennessy - up-and-coming London artist, an occasional nuisance. and precisely the type of person that thrived at these parties. 

“You bastard,” she said to Ronan. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“Henry was live-tweeting the whole flight.” 

She scoffed lightly, rubbing at an invisible spot of dirt on Ronan’s cheek. “I've had him muted since uni.”

“Don’t let him hear that you haven’t been keeping up on his page.”

“Aww, it’s sweet you worry for me, little fox, but I can take that pissant any day of the week.”

Ronan pulled back slightly. “Of course you could, but Henry goes more for psychological violence.”

“Yes, well, I can get him in that too.” Neither acknowledged Adam standing nearby. Hennessy shook her head, curls bouncing with the movement and picking up all kinds of strobe lighting. “Where is he, that shadow of yours?”

“Cheng could never be anyone’s shadow. He’s too out there.”

“And you’re the one he chooses not to abandon, hm? How sweet.” When she smiled, she looked very much like a painting, striking and set and venomous enough to burn at the slightest brush. Ronan appeared impervious.

“He’s making friends.”

“Hm. How boring.”

Ronan’s voice lowered, but Adam thought he could hear him say “Jordan’s not here?” 

Hennessy’s lips, the same vibrant shade as her lids, pulled a little tighter. “Nah,” she replied, casual enough. “Working on some deadlines, poor thing.” Her eyes flitted away from Ronan’s face for the first time, landing squarely on Adam instead. Her grin widened. “Well, there’s our treasured host. Late to your own party?”

“I have learned a few things from you over the years, Hennessy,” Adam replied, slipping a hand into his pocket in an attempt to appear more casual than he felt. 

“Fuck, I guess you have,” she admitted. Compared to Ronan’s accent, her voice sounded slipperier and rounder, sliding through the air until it reached his ears. She lifted a hand to land one last pat to Ronan’s cheek before gliding on to land a similar one to Adam. She paused briefly in front of him, lowering her hand. 

“You look happy,” she noted. Waggling her fingers in a wave, she turned back so both Adam and Ronan could see her. “I need a drink to get through all these boring political types. Ta, darlings,” she said, before disappearing back into the crowd as quickly as she had arrived. 

Adam exchanged a look with Ronan. “So you know Hennessy?”

“I’d hope so, yeah,” Ronan said, but he didn’t elaborate. “You?”

“We've met a few times.” 

“Pity,” Ronan said, standing like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. 

Adam rolled a few words around on his tongue - questions, mostly, infused with the sudden jealousy he felt simmering low in his gut - but instead all he said, so out of character, was “Do you want a drink?”

His shoulders seemed to soften slightly. “Can’t let Sargent have all the good ideas, I guess.”

“I’ll tell her you thought it was a good idea.”

“Fuck off.”

Ronan appeared a little more at ease with a drink in hand, and eventually, Adam lost him to the crowd. He stood stranded for the briefest of moments before Henry Cheng appeared, for the second time that night, at his side.

“Adam Parrish,” he said, handing off a drink that looked clear and deadly. It took his fingers a moment to remember to grab it rather than letting it splash to the ground. 

“Cheng,” Adam said, letting the déja vû wash over himself. “Thought we already had our introductions.”

“Of course,” Henry replied, tone too even and pleasant for the chaos around them. “Just wanted a chat with the movie critic, is all.”

Adam cast a skeptical eye around the room. “You’re sure this is the best place?”

“No time like the present, my friend.” Henry threw an arm around his shoulders, guiding Adam towards the dance floor and obscuring his own voice further. “How about you down that there drink and enjoy yourself? You look positively coiled and ready to strike.”

“I’d really rather not. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, if you’re so connected to sobriety, so be it,” Henry said, stealing the drink back. He nodded over Adam’s shoulder as he lowered his head back down from the drink, and when Adam glanced he saw a flash of Ronan’s leather among the crowd. “Our Ronan is looking fit, no? I’m proud of him for getting out of the house.”

“Some house,” Adam muttered, not expecting Henry to hear. All the same, his companion let out a startled laugh.

“Could say the same to you. But yes,” he said, leaning closer, “between you and me, the palace is always quite disarming.” Straightening and throwing a wave over his shoulder, Henry added, “Perhaps you have more reason to get used to it than I do, however.”

“More reason?”

Henry smiled, then, and somehow it appeared as menacing as Hennessy’s had earlier. Maybe he’d learned from her. “Friends of the royals make quite frequent trips, I’m afraid.”

“What, you’re not approved enough?”

“‘Fraid not. Heir to a fortune is not the same as First Son, Parrish, and I believe you’ve a wonderful slip of parchment ensuring just how approved you are.”

“I can’t find it in myself to be surprised you know.”

“Well, imagine being me if I didn’t!” Henry exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few popular influencers as he splashed a drink in their direction with his aggressive gesturing. “I was only on the receiving end of the HRH’s rants for three bloody years before you wrestled each other in frosting at the greatest wedding of the decade-”

“We didn’t wrestle-”

“And then you turn up a week later, acting all buddy-buddy for every camera you find - well, it would look suspicious had I not known!”

“Mhm,” Adam drawled, cutting his eyes back to Henry. “I bet Ronan can’t keep a secret from you.”

Henry grinned again, baring his teeth. “You’ve read him so well, McClane.” He sighed theatrically barely a moment later. “And debunked my argument succinctly.”

“That’s the price to pay for knowing all of Ronan’s thoughts, I suppose, Gruber.”

“Among many others. I’d expect his Niamh to know that well enough, though.”

Adam felt himself freeze as Henry’s hand came in contact with his shoulder, a friendly pat. His Niamh. As if that meant anything, as if those words fit together in any logical pattern. His Niamh, and his mother’s voice - almost golden. 

“Or you will soon enough, mate,” Henry said. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

And Henry Cheng disappeared into the crowd, popping up laughing with Blue a few feet away.

Adam surrendered gaining any grip on this night right then.

At some point, Hennessy found him, pressing a drink into his palm - what was with all his friends and acquaintances plying him with alcohol? - and said, “Well, I’d think you were avoiding me as you have at the last two of these parties.”

“Never avoiding,” Adam defended, mustering a smile as he lifted the drink to his lips without thinking. “Just generally indisposed at events.”

“You’re making some good choices, then.”

“What’s done must be done.”

She raised a single eyebrow. “Rather defeatist of you, Golden Boy. Don’t remember that from your time on the campaign trail.”

Adam grinned. “I’m a fully realized creation. I have the capacity to change.” “There he is, bringing out the philosophy at parties.” She nodded to something that might have been Ronan if Adam focused his eyes and squinted enough. “Don’t remember him, either.”

“Have I mentioned you look fantastic?”

“I know, darling, and I note your deflection.”

“My point stands.”

“And it’s valued.” She slid an arm over his shoulders, uncomfortably warm, to lean closer to his ear. “But we’re gonna have a conversation when you’re not overwhelmed at a party you don’t want to throw. I’m serious about the ignoring.”

“I know you are.”

“Mhm. And if I were you, I’d go check on your boy. But I’m not you, so I’m going to enjoy myself.”

As quickly as she’d appeared, she slid off into the crowd, joining the numbers of people Adam had completely lost to the mob. Everyone seemed able to navigate it but him.

As the clock neared midnight and another drink disappeared from Adam’s hand, leaving his blood buzzing pleasantly through his veins, he slipped out one of the ornate double doors. He breathed in fresh air like a man coming across water in the desert, the haze around his mind clearing with every breath. He ambled to a free bench, his legs still stiff and straight from overuse. The stone bit into his long fingers as he curled his hand around the bench seat, but he welcomed the feeling because it was so far from the thriving mass of bodies indoors.

At some point, he opened his eyes again. His eyes had briefly registered another figure outdoors by the statue when he first exited. Only once his eyes were open and scanning did he recognize the figure, a silhouette of black leather cut harshly from the ethereal white exterior of the Residence.

“Everything okay?” He called to Ronan.

“Yeah,” Ronan replied without turning to face him. “Just...getting some air.”

It was easier to associate this Ronan with the one he heard on the phone - so far from that royal persona projected everywhere, a voice in a face with no expectations on it. Ronan could have been anyone, his accent lax and his posture eerily straight in a contrast that made Adam feel a bit winded. 

“It’s loud in there,” he admitted.

Ronan didn’t respond, but Adam’s statement wasn’t one that required response. 

“I thought this would be more your scene,” Adam finally said, challenge creeping into his voice. He wasn’t sure if it was a genuine challenge or if he was just falling back on old habits instead of saying something he might regret.

“And I didn’t think it would be yours.”

“Fair enough, since it’s not.”

Ronan threw him a glance over one shoulder at that. “Makes perfect sense to throw this function, then.”

“Well, the media doesn’t exactly eat up overpriced textbooks and econ calculations, so I do what I can.”

“Mm,” Ronan hummed in something that sounded like agreement. “They do love the sex, drugs, and rock and roll, even in places it’s not happening.”

Adam stood, placing his hands on his knees like he had bad joints. “Unless if you actually went to 239 parties last year, I’d guess you know all about that exaggeration.”

“Do you stalk my tabloids, Parrish? The fuck?”

“No, Gansey does. With everybody. He just reads all his findings to me.”

“Terrifying,” Ronan muttered. “If I die of mysterious circumstances, you’ll both be on the shortlist of suspects.” “What?” Adam challenged. “You’ll keep it in the breast pocket of your blazer?”

“Sure,” Ronan replied. “I have to keep it folded up close to my heart, of course. Keep your lovers close but enemies closer.”

Ronan tilted his head in the direction of the statue, silently beckoning Adam to stand by him. It felt a bit like a confession, like his permission implied passing some silent test.

Briefly, in his buzzing brain, he wondered what side of that spectrum he fell on. 

“Did you get sick of watching Blue and Gansey?”

Adam shrugged, pulling to a stop just next to Ronan. He kicked absently at the ground with his toe. “A bit.”

“That has to have been a weird development to get used to.”

“A bit,” Adam repeated.

“Still, it hasn’t been too long.”

“I think they’ve been a thing for longer,” Adam admitted.

Ronan turned his head, and suddenly Adam felt the icy cool of his eyes trained on Adam’s face. “Why?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems obvious, looking back. They’ve clearly been together for a while. August, at least.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the December-January chill suddenly settling over him. “I think they were...protecting me.”

Ronan snorted, the gesture not a bit princely. “Protecting you?”

Adam fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt.

“I’m damaged goods, Highness,” he said at length. “I’m fragile.”

Even though Adam didn’t turn to him, he felt Ronan’s eyes probe deeper as though imploring Adam to look back to him. “That’s a fucking lie,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Adam snorted, but Ronan was not deterred.

“You’re not fragile,” he repeated. “If you’re fragile, the world is being held up by - by dental floss and craft glue. No, a weak person couldn’t do what you do. Bullshit for the cameras at least once a week, keep up your grades, work on policy with Czerny, keep up your ratings so that they never dip - that’s too much for someone who is fragile.”

“Oh, then you must be superhuman, with all the bullshitting you do.”

“Of course I am, Parrish,” Ronan said, turning his eyes up and away from Adam.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, elbows rested on the cold metal fence guarding the statue. The night sky hung above them, pale in all of the light pollution of the city, but if Adam strained he could see the faint points carving themselves into the sky and drawing themselves into pictures and promises. Ronan’s heat radiated next to him, leather almost snagging on cotton. The fact that this was their first time seeing each other in person since the hospital photo-op did not escape Adam’s notice, but neither did the easy way in which they managed to coexist despite the time and distance removing them from that point.

When the moment grew too heavy, he said, “Did you look at my Wikipedia page?”

“No.”

Adam arched an eyebrow.

“...Matthew may have done some light Googling.”

Adam laughed. It wasn’t his carefree camera laugh, the ones that kept up his ratings, but it was a laugh nonetheless, one that dispersed through the air as though worried it could be stolen away at any moment. Ronan’s face shuttered abruptly. His expression became inscrutable, and Adam didn’t realize he’d looked happy until he no longer did.

All at once, Adam remembered the line separating them, and he felt certain they were touching it with their feet almost overlapping, face to face and chest to chest.

“You didn’t have to come,” Adam said softly, his normal voice suddenly feeling far too loud for the little bubble forming around them, devoid of anyone else. “Not if you didn’t want to.”

Ronan didn’t speak for a moment, by choice or to gather his words, Adam didn’t know. “I did.”

Adam just shook his head, choosing to stand in comfortable silence. A star winked in the sky.

“Non est ad astra mollis e terris via,” Ronan whispered, his lips barely movin g. There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

“Itaque imus ad astra, per aspera,” Adam replied, barely thinking about it. So we go through hardships to the stars.

Ronan visibly started at his use of Latin. Adam smirked as if you say you’re not the only one with a posh education.

“Shooting for the stars, Highness?”

Rona turned his eyes back to the sole bright star. “I might as well be.”

“I’d doubt whatever it is that’s bothering you is as hopeless as that.”

Adam couldn’t take his eyes off of Ronan, noting the way his lips thinned. “Oh, but it is. In my position. In my life.”

“Non ergo qui in vobis sunt terminum tibi.”

Ronan turned his head toward Adam again, and Adam felt a spark of fear over what he might do if he turned his head to meet Ronan’s eyes, blue as a never-ending lake stretching on and on until he drowned against the sand.

He turned his head anyway. The stars suspended above them, the leaves ceasing to rustle and shuffle, the party inside fading away until everyone disappeared into nothingness. Ronan lifted one hand from the railing and slid it along Adam’s cheek, his skin heating and jolting at the touch like Ronan himself was made of electricity and stardust, like the galaxies that Adam had once been were meeting their long lost particles in Ronan’s hand. In Ronan’s eyes, he could have sworn he heard words turning over and over.

Adam heard him whisper, then, the words that must have been bouncing in his head. “Pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death,” he muttered, the tail-end of something Adam couldn’t quite place. He parted his lips to speak just before Ronan kissed him.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, he didn’t worry that he was kissing someone - kissing Ronan . For once in his life, he forgot about everything else. He didn’t worry about anyone inside or what anyone might think. That would come later.

Ronan’s lips pressed to his, and he tried to string a coherent thought together but was instead met with abstract, overjoyed ideas floating aimlessly in his brain instead. 

The press of Ronan against him was hard, sharp lines and corners poking into his chest and his hips and his legs, but his lips were soft and Adam tasted whiskey and powdered sugar on Ronan’s tongue and Ronan’s teeth flashed against his lip and he thought he might die, that the feeling may kill him if he did that again.

He didn’t have a chance to test that hypothesis, because Ronan pulled back and stepped away so quickly Adam almost fell forward onto his face. And then he hurried away, leaving Adam standing like an idiot outside of the White House ballroom at a party he was supposed to be hosting after just kissing a male member of the monarchy.

His only thought was, absently, if they’d kissed at midnight.

[maddestzoomer]

that photograph.

summary - 

a death, a photograph, and endless white walls.

warnings - 

mentions of death, also (not really sure if it counts considering he’s already dead lmao, but whatever) technically suicidal thoughts. 

authors note - 

i haven’t written for a while, but this is a story i recently found scribbled in my notebook from a few years back. i figured i’d edit some and post it here. feel free to give me any feedback you may have :) 

The last picture, dark and blurry, sat crammed in between two pages of his favorite book. It was a photo from the cross-country trip Billy had taken with his family last year.

The negatives were long gone, but one grainy picture remained. It had been there for almost a hundred years, long forgotten, but well protected within the lines of verse.

Billy had died on July fourth.

When it happened, it much more of a bigger deal than he thought it would be. He was nineteen, impaled multiple times by a fucking monster only to die in his sobbing sister's arms.  

But in the newspapers, it was nothing more than a freak accident. No-one knew how or why what happened happened, and just about everyone agreed it was strange, but there weren't any real answers supplied.

It was one of those awful things that no one expected and shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have. He had done a lot of wrong in his short life, but maybe he didn't deserve to die.

People cried for him, sang for him, wished for things to have been different.

Billy was still dead. His ribs were broken, lungs were punctured, and his esophagus was filled with blood until he could no longer breathe. It wasn't short and it wasn't painless. But it didn't matter how he died.

It wasn’t a loss of life, persay- it was more of a transition. On to the next world, the new beyond.

The next world had started with a line. Hundreds of people waited in front of a single window. Surrounded by endless white walls and equally white floors, Billy had slowly made his way to the back.

Some people hugged their knees and sobbed. Some muttered and stared off into space. Some looked genuinely bored. One woman, a pretty brunette girl, had run up and down the line, frantically asking questions.

“Where am I?” She’d shrieked, hazel eyes wild with fear. “What happened?”

She had been met with shrugs and vacant stares. She was not the first, nor the last.

The line took ages. There was no way of telling time- it could’ve been a year or an hour. But when Billy had finally reached the window, he’d asked the question many screaming and terrified before him people had asked.

“Where am I?” He said to the woman behind the window, who had been busy typing something into an archaic computer system.

“You’re dead, honey.” She murmured, not looking up. “Billy Hargrove?” He’d nodded, not sure what else to do.

“Hand,” she’d instructed, holding out her own. Once he’d placed it in hers, she turned it over, palm facing down, and stamped the back.

It was a triangle, tiny and solid black. Billy’d looked back up to ask where he was, or where to go, or what was next, but the window was gone. So was the line when he turned around.

Instead, he was in a small room. White walls and a white bed stared back at him. A bookshelf sat in the corner. Next to it was a small, black desk with a lamp.

“Hello?” He’d asked to the walls. No one answered.

He’d found out later- hours later- that the door was unlocked. Outside, there was a single potted plant next to his door. He touched the leaves, breathing in the stale air. They were plastic.

Fluorescents reflected off of white walls as he walked down the hallway, searching for another soul.

There was a common room about fifty doors and three turns down from him. When he went out of the hallway on the other side, there was an identical hundred doors and common room. He sat down in a puffy chair, mind overwhelmed.

Emotion had left his body. He wanted to feel anything- scared, excited, nervous, lost, angry- but all he felt was empty. As empty as the rooms around him.

As time passed, he saw other faces. None he’d recognized. Initially, he’d hoped he would reunite with lost family members and friends, but it was quickly apparent that that would never happen. He would never find them.

He could talk, but no one was interested. Once you talked about your life and death, there was nothing really left to speak about but the uncertainty that plagued every soul in the place.

Where were they? What was next? Was this hell?

It wasn’t really hell as much as it was boredom. The bookshelf had every book you could ever want, and endless paper appeared on the desk. He tried to keep himself entertained, but the endless walls and fluorescents shot daggers into any creativity he could have mustered.

It turned out the bed wasn’t for sleeping- it was so he could lay down and stare at the perfectly white ceiling.

He did a lot of that. There was no food to eat, no shit to shit. He probably could have had sex, but finding other people was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to be alone. To think about the life he could have lived. He just sat and stared, not knowing how or when or if time passed.

After re-reading a random book for the third time, Billy decided to try to kill himself. He wasn’t sure if it was possible, because he was already dead, but he could definitely try.

He’d begun to try to fashion a length of paper into a noose when fresh air caught his nose. It was bright, sweet, warm, and it danced into his brain, lighting up parts that hadn’t been touched since he’d died.

It was coming from under the door. Slowly, trying not to scare the hope away, he crept towards the door. The air was intoxicating- better than any vodka he could have bought when alive.

Emotions sprung to his chest for the first time since he’d gotten in line. Dry pine smoke and bird cries flew in on the air, bringing promises of a forest.

Was he hallucinating? Was it a dream? Had he finally killed himself? He touched the handle, fingers shaking. It was electrifying, the feelings that filled him. He felt alive again.

He opened the door to a forest, lit by softly flickering candles. Sobs echoed through the needles, carrying to his ears.

He saw his friends hugging one another. Saw Max silently sobbing into her hands, his Father staring drunkenly at the ground, and his Step-Mother, Susan, gently rubbing Max's back. Sitting on a table was a picture of him, smiling brightly with a surfboard at his side and an endless blue ocean behind him.

Billy had just walked into the anniversary of his death.

Being back in the real world filled him to the brim with long lost emotions.

Life danced within his eyes, as transparent as he was. He found out quickly that he couldn’t communicate or interact with anything- he could only watch.

And when he stared at his hands, he could see the fire-lit carpet of pine needles beneath him. He ached to speak to his mother (even though she wasn't to be found at the funeral...), to Max, to his friends, but even complete silence was better than the room.

Anything was better than the room, the four walls and the plastic plant guarding his door. Anything.

The worst thing in the world, even worse than the room, was having to return to it.

He felt the ground leave his feet as he was thrust back into the four walls, the life leaving his chest as quickly as it had come.

It felt like being socked in the stomach with the force of an entire lifetime. But worse, because he couldn’t cry about it. He couldn’t cry about anything.

Everything- the joy, sadness, nostalgia, content- left his body in a snap. He was left in the room again, with the hallway beyond the door.

He couldn’t even feel upset. He could just sit on the bed and wait.

He waited for another year, only living for the time that the forest would sneak in under his door.

Sometimes, he feared it would never come back, but there was nothing he could do. So he just waited. Re-reading books, walking the endless halls. There was something to look forwards to. He didn’t want to kill himself. He wanted to go back.

He continued going back for a decade, and then another. Slowly, the mourning of his death became smaller and less widespread as his parents died. His picture still existed in old family photos and friends’ diaries, but the memory of him slowly dropped existence.

Eventually, everyone he'd once known was death. Every year he went back it seemed another friend was gone.

Pictures kept getting lost or destroyed- thrown away by accident, or torn in broken picture frames.

Slowly, his descendants died, only to give way Max's great-great-grandson, Arthur, who had the last remaining picture of him.

It had been almost a hundred years since Billy had tried speaking with anyone connected to him. He’d never been able to find any of them within the long halls of the Place- but he seldom left his room, anyways.

The only time he stepped outside the door anymore was when he went back to earth, when he felt the grass beneath his feet and the sun in his hair.

Billy knew, from seeing his hallmates disappear, that when no pictures of him existed he’d never be allowed to go back to the real world. He’d also leave the Place, but no one knew what was in the Beyond.

Billy, when he could feel emotions, was terrified. The last picture of him sat in an ancient book of poetry, on a bookshelf in the attic of Arthur's house.

Max had kept the picture of Billy when he died, cried with it even when Billy had been gone fifty years. She had kept the book with her treasures, a ratty red book cover covered in dust. Almost no one had touched it since she'd died.

Arthur looked like Max. Skin full of freckles, head wild with red hair. The two even shared a similar smile.

Billy found himself following Arthur around when he could almost as much as he followed his own descendants, just to see how he lived his life.

Arthur was, unlike Max, incredibly forgetful. He’d leave his wallet on the counter or forget the dog was outside.

Watching Arthur was almost like watching his step-sister. Even though they were incredibly different, the two shared the same laugh and the same wit.

Then, one day, Arthur forgot to put out a candle when he went to bed.

He’d set them up for a date, but the boy he'd invited had stood him up.

Billy had wanted to comfort him, but he just sat on the couch and watched. After crying and eating almost an entire tub of ice cream, he’d blown out most of them and headed up to bed.

All except one.

One, hanging by the curtain, greedy flame licking at the fabric.

Billy stared at it. Watched as it grew, climbed up to the wall. There. It had to end there.

But it didn’t.

It grabbed the ceiling, expanding up and around the window. Billy glanced at the fire detector. Surely, it would go off?

It was silent. Another unlikely event. Billy was beginning to get nervous.

He tried to touch the fire, to stop it, but of course, his hands went straight through. He tried fanning the smoke to the detector. He grabbed for the phone, tried to shake Arthur awake.

Nothing was working.

Flames greedily ate up the living room and expanded to the upstairs, finally waking up Arthur.

Red hot pain suddenly lanced through his back, ripping a scream out of his mouth. He bucked as the pain forced its way into his mouth. It was similar to the pain he felt when that creature had impaled him.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, lines tracing and crossing over his skin. Billy arched his back, where the pain was concentrated, heat searing his skin. He screeched as if it would never end, because it felt like it never would.

It only got worse. His forehead erupted with slicing agony. Collapsing to the ground, he grabbed onto his blond curls as he screamed, wishing for death. But he was already dead? Dead twice? He was gone. Wishing it was over. Wishing he didn’t exist. Simply wishing.

As quickly as it had come, the pain left. He laid on the ground, softly gasping as his muscles unconstricted. Flinching at every sound, he waited for the agony to come back.

Minutes dripped by. It didn’t come back. He was sore, his body didn’t feel like his own. But he wasn’t being hurt.

Slowly, he stood. When he looked down at his hands, the black triangle had multiplied, spreading over his skin. His veins were black and pronounced over thick, corded muscle.

His tongue prodded his canine teeth, only to find they were long and sharp. Fangs. Billy had fangs. His fingers shook, fear pounding around his mind. He needed answers.

He tried to run his hands through his hair, but something stopped him. Big, bony horns curled out of his forehead. They were solid and sharp at the end, and he cut his finger as he ran it over.

A shard of glass on the floor caught his eye. He glanced at it slowly, scared at what he would see.

Dipping around the side of his back were wings, heavy and black. He reached back to feel them, wincing at the pain that started through his body. They felt leathery, cold.

Blood dripped to the floor from his cut finger.

By the door rested an iron pitchfork, tips covered in dried blood. He shuddered as he felt the very tips of his wings, now hyperaware, brush against the ground.

“Mr. Hargrove?” A voice called as the door creaked open.

Another demon, freakish and unworldly, stepped through the door. He was tall, powerful, with long black horns and a mane of thick, flowing hair.

A pencil rested behind his pointed ear, and he held a staff in his left hand.

Leaning against the stone wall, he looked Billy up and down.

“Where the fuck am I?” Billy asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

“Well, Mr. Hargrove,” the demon laughed, tapping a pencil against his equally pointy teeth.

“You’ve got a triangle on your hand. If you have a circle, you get to go up there,” he pointed to the ceiling, “and live in eternal peace.” He laughed, lip curling into a mocking snarl.

“Here, though, we are not brown nosers. We do not believe in total harmony. We wage war where we see fit, defend ourselves and those we love. We are honest about what we want. We have dignity, courage, and pride. “ The demon smiled, tossing his pitchfork to Billy. It glinted in the low light.

“Welcome to Hell.”

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

h

She chose not to dwell on it.

h

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

 We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in. 

[...] 

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are. 

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

with my son

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

I

AM

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke. 

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.” 

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

[emoboijk]

jhs | carnations

“But carnations? Oh, what a beautiful flower. They come in every color. True, some are painted, but that doesn’t mean they are less beautiful, and they never wilt.” (Ruth McLeod-Kerns) or you fall in love with your fuck buddy—hanahaki disease au, friends with benefits au, flora & fauna series

2,510 words

p.cred

The waiting room is beige with a dark brown carpet, the kind that has either always been that color or is that color as a result of years of use. There are paintings (ironically) of flowers on the walls, and potted plants stationed randomly between the chairs. A receptionist sits behind a counter, typing on a computer and answering the phone when it rings. Aside from her, there are seven people scattered about the room.

You're wedged into a chair that's been pushed against the window, the sun hitting your back and making you feel warm for the first time in ages. The doctor said that might be a side effect of the blood loss; your circulation is less than stellar now that there's nothing to circulate. Your fingers and toes are practically made of ice now.

HOEbi: when r we meeting up? ;)

You frown down at the message. He sent it at 3 AM so you know he was drunk, out with some of the guys from his frat or his dance team. But it's the latest in a string of messages from him that ask the same question.

You're not sure how long you had expected to keep up this charade, but you had definitely hoped longer. There's no disguising it now. You can't be in the middle of hooking up, start coughing bloody carnations and expect to keep the momentum going. Bloody flowers sort of ruin the mood.

You run a hand through your hair, swallowing against bloody, petal-infused bile, as you try to come up with a response. Some subtle way of evading him yet again. But you're in the middle of thinking when the incoming-text animation appears.

HOEbi: sorry about that! :)

HOEbi: but really when am i going to see u?

HOEbi: i miss u :(

You roll your eyes, a smile coming to your lips despite yourself. You suppose that was really what you fell for; he's a good fuck, obviously, but that sort of sweetness and humility. He radiates warmth and friendliness.

I have an appt today

HOEbi: oh u sick?

HOEbi: i have a (meat) thermometer that might help ;)

Fucking hell. Is he still drunk?

Disgusting

HOEbi: if i promise to never say that again can i see u tonite

Maybe…

You're smiling at your phone like a dope.

A fourth person gets called in by the nurse when your screen changes. Incoming Call. Chaeyoung.

"Hey, what's up?" you wedge your phone between your ear and your shoulder, "I'm at the doctor's."

Your body goes stiff when you hear her crying. It's not a soft, gentle crying, it's violent sobbing and dry heaving.

"What happened?"

"I," she's stuttering, "I, I, I…I got into a car accident." She hiccups and cries harder. You run from the waiting room without so much as a look to the receptionist or the other patients.

You can see the accident from three blocks away; there are two police cars with their lights flashing and a tow truck backing into place. You don't spot your sister until you're closer; she's sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlight with her face in her hands. You pull into the grocery store parking lot nearby and race across the street.

"Oh my god," you breathe and Chaeyoung looks up. Your whole body relaxes when you see she's not injured, but Chae crumbles when she spots you. Her hug is nearly a tackle and her arms like a vice. You choke slightly as her grip forces flowers up your esophagus.

"What happened?" you whisper hoarsely.

Chaeyoung pulls away and you wipe her cheeks of tears. "I just," she hiccups, "I just looked at my phone for a second."

Your curse instantly. She knows how you feel about that. But one look at her expression and you know that totaling her car is punishment enough. You stroke her hair and say, "At least you're alright."

"But my car," she sobs.

You look over to where she's pointing, realizing that you hadn't actually seen the damage yet. "Fuck," you exhale. Her lime-green Dodge Neon is nearly half the size it used to be, the front end smashed into a streetlight, which toppled over and crushed the top of her car.

You rub circles into her back softly, "At least you didn't hit another car…"

Chaeyoung curls into your side and starts crying again. You squeeze her shoulder and pull out your phone, muttering about calling the insurance company, but you nearly jump when you see Hoseok's sent you another message.

HOEbi: srsly i need to tell you something important

It makes you cough; flower petals dance through the air to the pavement and blood runs down your chin.

The Emergency Room is bustling. And you want to leave because, honestly, it gives you anxiety.

"I'm fine," you tell your sister for the millionth time.

"People who are fine don't cough up blood for no reason," she replies for the millionth time.

You roll your eyes and go back to staring at Hobi's last message. You still haven't replied (what with your sister dragging you to the ER for no reason). (Well maybe a little reason).

A doctor appears beside the bed, almost as if from thin air, with his nose in a chart. He says your name as a question.

"That's me," you confirm, "But I really don't need to be here."

"Is that so?" the doctor says, putting on a pair of gloves.

"She coughed up blood," your sister interjects and you hiss profanities at her before you can help yourself.

The doctor chuckles and grabs a tongue compressor from a cart. "Say ‘ah'."

You don't.

"I won't let you leave until you do."

You open your mouth but you do not say ‘ah'. The doctor looks inside and frowns and you know what he sees.

"Yeah," he says, "I'm going to have to admit you."

Your sister is clutching your hand like she's the one who will have to stay in the hospital. "What's wrong!" It's a question but it comes out a desperate whine.

The doctor looks at you skeptically for a moment, trying to gauge how much you know. You roll your eyes and tell your sister, "It's called Hanahaki disease."

"What?" It's almost a shriek.

"And an advanced case at that," the doctor says, removing his gloves and scribbling on your chart, "I could see an entire carnation at the back of your throat. How are you not in pain?"

"I never said I wasn't in pain." You avoid looking at your sister because you don't feel like explaining yourself.

The doctor humphs in your direction and scribbles something else on your chart. He turns and barks at a nurse to admit you and to call Dr. Lee.

You lean against the exam bed you're perched on, giving in to your exhaustion. You close your eyes but can still feel your sister's gaze on you, full of questions. You don't have the energy; you pretend to fall asleep.

"How much pain?" the same doctor asks.

You still don't feel like opening your eyes; you hold up seven fingers. Chaeyoung's grip on your wrist tightens and you know she wants to yell at you but she's scared. Normally, you would woman-up and comfort her, but you're weak. You don't feel like taking care of her right now. You just want the burning in your throat and the stabbing in your chest and the iron on your teeth to go away.

"I'll give you something and a nurse will come to take you to a room."

You nod and wince as he gives you the medication. It works immediately, a comforting nothingness rushing through your body. This time you really do fall asleep.

You blink awake to a smart-looking female doctor shaking your shoulder; there's a crowd of younger doctors with clipboards standing behind her. She smiles when you meet her eyes.

"Hey there, sorry to wake you, but I need to do an initial check," she stands up straight, "I'm Dr. Lee."

You nod and push yourself up in the hospital bed. You're in a new room. There's a consistent beeping coming from one of the machines. Chaeyoung is passed out on an uncomfortable-looking loveseat that's built into the wall.

Dr. Lee asks you all the routine questions (how long and how much and who is it?). You answer them with a purposefully bored tone. Then, when your phone goes off halfway through the questions, your tone is not so much bored as anxious.

"Something you need to check on?" the doctor asks when you turn away from her for the third time. The phone goes off a second time and you realize it's in Chae's bag.

"No."

"It's okay," the doctor says, "We're done. We'll take you up for x-rays so we can see the extent of the damage and then talk about options."

"Fine," you nod.

It's almost thirty-six hours before you see Dr. Lee again (you've been counting). In that time you've slept, went through a battery of tests and scans, and ate four meals. Chaeyoung wouldn't leave for the first twelve hours until you insisted she go home and get your toothbrush at least (after promising she wouldn't text while driving your car). (Ugh, her car, you still need to deal with that).

You checked your phone when she left after her first visit.

HOEbi: c'mon u know i don't like to be serious

HOEbi: i gotta real talk

It caused another fit of coughing and the nurse told Chaeyoung to keep you from your phone. You were kind of relieved. His messages make you worried and uneasy, worst-case scenarios flying through your mind like locusts through a field of wheat.

And then, the strangest thing happens: the pressure in your chest dissipates.

When Dr. Lee does finally come in she's beaming. She smiles at you like she has a secret before turning and pinning two x-rays onto a lightbox.

"This," she points to the first, "is your initial scan, from when you were first admitted." It looks like an abstract painting. Black and white shadowy shapes, floral outlines imprinted on lung impressions.

"And this is your scan from this morning." This x-ray is significantly less cluttered. There's still a floral design in the way of the lungs but it's diminished.

"Am I getting better?" Your eyes scan the array of doctors she has behind her, "I was told that wasn't possible."

Dr. Lee leans against the railing at the foot of your bed. "Hanahaki is a tricky disease," she taps her fingernails, "Studies show that the majority of the cause is in the mind, with real, dangerous, physical manifestations," she shrugs, "Logic says that if you get over the mental part of it, the person on the other end of your unreciprocated love, you'll get better."

That strikes you. Get over him? You hadn't felt such a significant shift. You still thought about him, you still missed him...maybe not in the pining, desperate way of a few days ago... But you wouldn't say you'd gotten over him.

"Time away must be all you need," the doctor says, "We'll keep you here another day or two to make sure that's what's helping, and then you should be good to go." She pats your ankle comfortingly and turns to the others, leaving just as swiftly as she had arrived.

Your chest feels lighter but your mind feels muddier than ever.

Twenty-four hours later, you're actually smiling when Hoseok shows up while you're chatting with Chaeyoung. He knocks on the door before sliding it open and sticking his head inside.

It sort of takes your breath away. It's been almost a week since you've last seen him and whoo, he looks good. All tan and glowing, dark hair spilling over a headband and eyes like gemstones. His lips are pulled into a nervous heart shape and it makes your chest feel heavy (although it doesn't prickle with pain like it used to).

"Hobi?"

"Hey," he says and it's brimming with relief. Glass half full. He steps fully inside and his eyes scan down the length of your body. He chews on his bottom lip, "Alright?"

"I need a soda," your sister announces. Too abruptly. She stands and hurries out of the room, turning to wink at you before closing the door. It makes you roll your eyes.

"How did you find out I was here?" You tilt your head to the side.

"I, uh, kept texting you? Your sister responded."

You raise your eyebrows. You glance around the room and spot your bag; waving your hand at it you say, "Could you…?"

"Oh, yeah." Hoseok passes it to you. While you dig through it, he glances around before deciding to sit in the chair by your bed. He hesitates for a long moment before deciding to lean against the railing; he's missed being close to you.

There are over twenty missed text messages. A couple from your parents and your friends, but most are from Hobi.

From right before you were admitted:

HOEbi: did i scare u lol

HOEbi: it's not that big of a deal

HOEbi: honestly i don't even need to tell u

HOEbi: really it's ok let's just meet up

And then another the next day:

HOEbi: i missssss uuuuuuuuu

You smile at that one, scrolling to the next day's messages:

HOEbi: are u not texting me back cuz of what i said

HOEbi: cuz it's fine we don't have to talk

HOEbi: unless it's dirty ;) ;)

HOEbi: pls don't hate me

That actually makes you laugh. You can almost picture him texting and getting anxious. And then yesterday:

HOEbi: k i'm really worried

That's when your sister started replying.

She doesn't hate you. My sister loves you.

I'm Chaeyoung.

HOEbi: uh hey

HOEbi: wait! loves? really?

Duh

Anyway she's in the hospital

You're blushing. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he shrugs and when you look over he's giving you that smile. The one he gives everyone but that makes you feel extra special, the one that lights you from the inside. You wonder if everyone feels that way when he smiles. Maybe not. Maybe that's what makes it special. "You're in the hospital." He frowns, "Why didn't you tell me?"

You tuck a piece of your hair (stringy and unwashed) behind your ear, "We're not...anything. You didn't have to come. I...I didn't want you to see me like this."

He raises his eyebrows. His face is so open and vulnerable, soft and sweet. "I want to see you in every way." He runs his hand through his hair before lacing his fingers through yours. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to be more." He squeezes your hand.

On every single one of your anniversaries after that, Hobi gives you a bouquet of carnations. The note always says: We beat 'em.

author’s note—don’t ask me about hobi’s texting style because i have no answers

for more of my works check out my m.list

[matchstickwords]

To all the boys I’ve loved before au-ish. kinda continuation from this

Max skates back home in her new board. The one that’s cool and she knows was hidden in Billy’s trunk for weeks.

Neil is screaming at Billy again and the house shakes from the force he uses to push Billy around, the light flickers. She leaves the paper bags with the stuff her mom made her go buy last minute after dinner by the door and goes to practice her flip tricks.

Max loses track of the time and stays until her legs are tired and her mom is sitting there looking at her. Like they didn’t just escape what goes in the house. Like they didn’t pretend to go senseless. “Hi mom!” she says “I bought the stuff.”

“I know, sweetie. You’re better at your ollies!” Max flares her nostrils playing at being mad.

“It’s a flip! A flip- not everything is an ollie mom.” her mom chuckles and continues to wring her hands over her apron. Max grabs the bags “are you coming in?” her mom hums.

“I think I should stay a bit more. It’s nice outside.”

Max squints at her. It’s getting nicer but Indiana isn’t California. She shrugs and makes her way inside. She leaves the bags in the counter and puts away what needs to be in the freezer. Her mom’s bedroom is closed no doubt with Neil inside.

Billy’s door is open, he’s laying on his bed sleeping but his lamp is on and Max already sees it in her mind's eye what’ll happen if Neil finds it like that. She carefully steps into the room to switch it. There’s a sheet of paper folded on the floor so she picks it up and places it on the bedside table. She’s gonna flip the switch when she notices the paper says, Steve.

She shouldn’t look. Max looks back at Billy but he’s lightly snoring. Her fingers itch. Why would Steve write to Billy?

Billy moves and she panics. By the time she’s in her room Billy’s light is off, the letter is in her hand her heart is beating too fast.

She lays on her bed after brushing her teeth and debating what to do with the letter.

She can’t sleep.

Steve wouldn’t mind if she read his letter. What would he even write to Billy about? Sometimes he says hi to Billy when they cross paths at the Wheeler’s but writing to him? That’s weird.

Max throws her covers and searches for the letter. She finds her flashlight and with the letter in hand, she gets under the covers again.

-

The next morning on their way to school “Why are your eyes so red?” Billy asks not looking at her. “Your boyfriend, dump you?”

Max looks at his profile. “No, I just know someone really, really stupid.” she sniffs and tries not to cry again.

“Wow okay someone is a lady already?”

Max turns red “oh my god!! Don’t talk to me ever again!!”

-

In the end, she has the letter crammed in the bottom of her backpack for less than a week when the chance presents itself. She doesn’t see Steve that often outside of the weekend and she doesn’t trust Dustin. But she can give him the letter in AV club and he has no time to read it before giving it to Steve.

“Listen, you can’t read the letter.” Dustin stops arguing for a second.

“Why would you say that! I wasn’t gonna and now I risk everything.” he raises his arms like a crazy person. “Is this a Lucas thing? I promise he likes you. You don’t have to involve Steve. Besides you’re not his type.” Max pushes him.

“No! It’s not like that! At all!” god, helping Billy is the worst. “I just need you to give him this. Or put it on his car it’s not from me. So YOU BETTER NOT TELL ANYONE and don’t read it! or your death will be painful. That’s not a warning that’s a fact, stalker boy.”

-

Mom knocks on her door. “Sweetie! Will is on the phone. Come quick!”

Max makes a face, brow in a frown. It’s Saturday morning and Will has never called her.

“Hi?” she says.

“Hi! Max, uh Hi!” Max looks at the receiver then puts it on her ear again. “What’s wrong?” she covers her mouth and whispers “is it the- you know what?”

Will stays silent “no?!”

“Okay?” she draws out.

“We might have… read the letter… A bit”

It takes a second for the information to sink in “YOU DID WHAT??!” she wants to grab her hair and pull until the world makes sense. YOU CAN’T EVER TRUST BOYS! “I TOLD DUSTIN TO NOT-” she lowers her voice “r-e-a-d it!”

“I think your brother knows how to spell.” Will cuts in.

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT! Who read the thing?”

More silence. Then she hears background whispering and she knows everyone is there.

“We all did” it’s Lucas now on the phone.

The line makes a sound like it’s being passed around. “We can help.” says El.

“Yeah! That was the point!! Put Henderson on the line.” El says that back and Dustin cries out are you kidding? She’s gonna kill me! And then Mike’s voice dripping in sarcasm wow yeah she’s totally gonna reach in through the phone and strangle you. Max really wishes she could. “Just give him the phone.”

Dustin breathes “OKAY! We can still fix this!”

Max puts her best Billy voice and says “you give the letter to Steve or I’m gonna shove my board so far up your butt your esophagus is gonna learn how to heelflip. You got it?”

Dustin gulps “that’s kinda graphic-”

“Do you understand Henderson?”

“Yes, ma'am!”

“Okay go.”

“What? Now? I didn’t have breakfast!”

“You’re at Will’s? Fantastic that’s closer. Don’t hide when I get th-”

Dustin curses “shit, shit, shit. Okay, I’m going do not come here. I repeat don’t come over.” then the line cuts off.

-

She doesn’t get an update ‘til late at night when Steve calls. She almost swallows her tongue. It’s crazy! Her heart goes fast and she’s excited. This is like a movie! And she helped so now Billy can stop being a headcase. It’s perfect. Then she recalls that Billy is at a party and she curses him.

“Hello? Is this Billy Hargrove’s house?” Steve says politely.

Max has a stroke “Stev- Hi oh. Ah, I’m Max. Steve!”

Steve laughs softly “Hi, Max. Is Billy there?”

She wants to kill Billy. This was his chance! “No. did you-” she scratches the back of her neck. Should she say something about the letter? Does he know she knows?

She stays quiet too long. “Read the letter that Billy didn’t want me to read and that half the world read? Yeah.”

“And?” she’s gonna die.

“I just really want to talk to him. Did you know where he’s-”

Max doesn’t let him finish “He’s at Rebecca’s party!”

“Ok, sure I can go there. I think.” he sounds unsure. Which is weird since Max saw him come at like a gazillion demodogs AND her crazy brother like it was nothing.

“You can do it, Steve! Go now! And call me after.”

“I am not calling- OH MY GOD” it’s what he says before hanging the phone.

-

Steve doesn’t call and she falls asleep waiting for Billy.

Her eyes open and a second later she’s jumping from her bed. She runs to Billy’s room and barges in. He’s on the bed hands covering his face. He drops them as soon as she makes her entrance by almost tripping over his heavy black boots.

"Did you see Steve?" Max ask hurried.

“He kissed me.” Billy says and he turns so red she turns red and she fucking loses it.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god! He kissed him!”

Billy covers his face again and he also says oh my god he kissed me! Then he gets real quiet. “Wait, how did you know?”

Max uses the advantage of her stepbrother laying in bed to escape. He’s not gonna like that everyone read the letter.

She runs.

[a-cai-jpg]

if you’ll stay with me, we can rewrite the rules of the universe

"does she have to go away? can't they just live together happily?" - director son, melo is my nature

there's an idiom in chinese that i think about a lot.

天下没有不散的酒席

the first time i heard it, it was season 2 of a drama i loved as a kid--three years old, sitting too close to an old, heavy color television, my cousin warm by my elbow, and my grandmother's voice drifting in from the kitchen.

(it's a technicolor memory, filtered a little yellow with age.)

season 3 of this drama is something i try to never watch.

first of all, they changed the cast, and even though leo ku is a beautiful man, he couldn't replace the legend, alec su.

(we don't talk about the new female lead.)

second of all, shit hits the fan and the character i loved the most becomes the character i hated the most.

third of all,

the idiom becomes true.

(there is no such thing as a banquet that never ends.)

see, the drama is about two girls who meet each other in historical beijing and become sworn sisters despite being polar opposites of each other. where one is gentle and demure, the other is reckless and brash. one of them (guess which?) happens to be the long-lost daughter of the sitting emperor. the other girl promises to help her reach her father. after a series of unfortunate events, the emperor crowns the wrong girl as princess. season 1 is about the fake princess sneaking the real princess into the palace, their struggles with palace life and figuring out a way for the emperor to recognize his real daughter without executing his fake one, and them falling in love--one with the 5th prince and the other with a son of a palace official.

eventually, the misunderstandings are addressed, and the emperor realizes he loves both girls too much to have harm come to either of them, so he recognizes both as his daughters. more things happen, but eventually, the two girls get married, and it's happily ever after.

BUT.

but they decided to make a season 3.

(in hindsight, it makes sense, because the non-blood related princess could have never lived a happy life caged in the palace, but it's nice to dream ok)

season 3 ends with the non-blood related princess and the prince she marries (my childhood crush) leaving the palace for good, and thereby giving up the throne, to live in yunnan. many, many years later, a carriage arrives at their tea field, and it's the emperor visiting them during the last years of his very long reign.

even writing this really poorly-articulated synopsis can bring me to tears. it's not an ending i can watch without crying.

(i can still see the ending in my mind's eye. the scarf around her hair, the basket of tea leaves by her side, the sound of children laughing and the carriage rolling to a stop. they see erkang first. yongqi and xiao yanzi greet him and their laughter is wild from happiness. but then erkang lifts the curtain to the carriage, and the emperor steps down from the coach.)

(the moment yongqi drops to his knees and says 皇阿玛 is usually when i start bawling.)

(the end end is them riding the carriage together, singing, and the words 全剧终  appear on screen, and you can almost fool yourself into believing that the carriage just continues on until they are back in the palace, ten years into the past.)

i like endings where everyone stays in one place.

senior year of high school, i watched a drama where the ending was a group of friends, who had bound together to conquer evil, literally all going their own ways and the main character dying, and i was so traumatized, i cried for three hours, shakily typing up my english essay through a curtain of tears until 6am in the morning.

when i finally went to bed the following night, i rewrote the ending in my head.

maybe because i was so tired, or maybe because the pain was too raw and not something i wanted to face, i managed to convince my sleep-addled brain that the drama actually ended with the female lead gathering the remnants of the male lead's soul, finding an elder in the snow-capped mountains (which is the setting where the drama leaves us), bringing him back to life, and the two of them returning home, where their friends have gathered to welcome him back.

this remains my most successful daydream yet (nightdream?), because i can still see the fabricated scenes play out in my head, the imagined emotions on the actor's faces, the ghost of a soundtrack playing in the background.

there's still a very, very large part of me that likes for everyone to stay in one place. 

but maybe it's getting used to reality, or maybe it's me viscerally feeling how difficult it is to stay in a place for too long, i've slowly started to accept people dispersing.

i used to not understand those scenes in dramas where old friends who have moved away come to visit the main character for just one afternoon, because in my head, i would always think wow, i would've had them stay. my friends would've stayed the week.

but see, time doesn't move in a way that lets us stroll in the past for a very long time. now, i'm grateful for the hours taken out of a night to meet with familiar faces and make plans for a future we know might not happen. i swallow the faint wrenching feeling when we bid goodbye, and continue my own solitary journey home, and through life.

but in the end, we move through the world alone and with nothing.

there's still a very, very large part of me that likes for everyone to stay in one place, but i'm guilty of leaving.

you'd think after four years, i'd be used to not knowing what home is, but i'm still a little scared of going away.

i don't know what i'll do with my room when i do. i don't know what to do with the posters on the walls (magazines cut-outs from high school still posted above the living room desk that has long not been mine), or my mountain of books that spill into every room in the house, or my keyboard sitting heavily above my bureau, or my guitar stashed by my closet, or my upright.

i don't know when i'll play my upright again, and that thought in itself really hurts.

i used to do this thing where i count the number of hours i'll be able to spend time with another person. i used to do it with my grandparents and it's honestly the most painful exercise of all time.

i try not to do it now, and as i write this, i'm actively pushing the process out of my mind, because i know i'll be able to calculate the number of hours left i can live in this house.

in my final story for my creative writing project, someone says this to the main character, "You were banking on us to preserve this idealistic vision of the past--to stay the same--so that when you got tired of being an adult, you could return home to us. But, we were growing too. Maybe we were growing in tandem with each other, but out of sync with you."

this is a line buried in the text among many other sentences that i think are a lot more beautiful. but, this is the line that took me over two weeks to write. for the first time, i tried to put the anxiety and regret i felt for four years into words. 

(that sort of reckoning is akin to pulling out your chordae tendineae through your esophagus and wrestling them into something worth presenting to the world.)

see, i want to experience the world, get to know foreign lands over the period of a couple of years, call the hidden corners of large cities home, visit mountain tops and build a life there, but i don't want the world to change.

part of it is because if it does, i'll never get to know the world. the japan i'll see in the future will never be the japan i saw last year and the japan i missed this year.

part of it is because life is a long, tiresome process of getting used to the new. as i grow up and out of this two-story condo, i am constantly having to digest this larger, more nuanced picture of the world. but, sometimes i get tired and i want to fall back on something familiar.

sometimes, that something familiar changes, and you're left utterly, completely alone.

i'm more used to this process now. i'm no longer so bothered by it that i balk at the idea of my parents moving.

i still feel unsettled when i think about the coming four years and the years after that and the notion that really, this bed i'm sleeping in is not going to be my bed anymore.

and this time, it seems like it will be permanent.

i was watching this variety show with a singer i like very much yesterday night, laughing and crying, and wrote this next bit in chinese.

i'll translate it here.

hua chenyu is a very peculiar existence in my heart.

i don't particularly love his voice, but i view his music as a sort of standard for all pop music. he has changed a lot since 2013, when he first debuted, but he still has this aura of aloofness, maybe because of his single-minded obsession with music.

but, when i saw him lift his head to look at his college bandmates on a large screen, over a webcam, the love and happiness in his slightly reddened eyes were indisputable. in that moment, the look of nostalgia and wistfulness in his gaze suddenly made me think that he's grown up a little, aged a little.

(this following part i wrote in english)

they performed a song they used to play a lot in college over some sort of webcamming interface.

but, see, there is a difference.

i used to think that it didn't matter how far away my friends were from me, because technology has taken distance and shrunken it to a few lines of text or a phone call. but, there's something irreplaceable about the voice of a person you love without the tinny grain of the mic, about the warmth of another someone next to you that you can lean against. 

sometimes, we are lucky and for a few years of our lives, we have someone who can understand the messy scrawl over a few pages of our stories. sometimes, we are lucky, and that someone takes up chapters and arcs.

(isn't that a very nice thought.)

(华晨宇在我心中是一个很神奇的存在。我并不是特别喜欢他的声音，可是我就是会以他的音乐为目标，为典范。他从2013年 刚开始参加快男到现在 变了很多。但他一直有一种拒人于千里之外的感觉， 也许是因为他对音乐的执着。可是当我看见他抬头看着在屏幕上的大学乐队成员。。。他泛红眼里的爱和快乐是不可忽视的。在那一瞬间 他眼中的留恋突然让我觉得他好像长大了一点，老了一点。)

(i'm like weirdly proud because i couldn't have written this two years ago. see, reading in a different language really helps you learn that language. too bad my students never LiStEnEd.)

(i realize i talk about this creative writing story a lot. it's because it is my story. the story of me and my largest 心结. something like that.)

(maybe i'll post it one day.)

(or maybe not.)

song rec: kevin oh - mortifying love

glossary: the first drama mentioned is 还珠格格 (princess returning pearl erkang = son of the palace official, married to the blood related princess yongqi = 5th prince, one of the most tragic existences in chinese history xiao yanzi = the princess returning pearl, the non-blood related princess, married to yongqi 皇阿玛 = in the qing dynasty, princes and princesses who were sons and daughters of the emperor had to call their father by this greeting 全剧终 = the end the second drama mentioned is 古剑奇谭·(legend of the ancient sword) 心结 = literally, heart knot. i don’t know how to translate it, but i liken it to the freudian concept of a fixation...? 

[snarky-badger]

Could I have maybe a love Triangle between Eddies best friend (who has super strength) Anne and Venom? Maybe S/O sees the way Venom is so careful with Anne? And is a little jealous? Cause she wants Venom to look at her like that? Maybe Eddie/Venom read her text messages to her friend about how much she actually likes him?

[text messages]

You’d met Eddie at work. He was a new up and coming journalist, just transitioning from being in front of the camera to the printed word. On his first day, he’d looked so lost and on edge, shoulders hunched a little as he’d stared at his new desk and cubicle, that you’d quickly gone up and introduced yourself, if only to reassure him that no, the people there didn’t bite.

He’d been a little wary at first, but relaxed quickly, especially as you’d given him the short tour that had included a quick demo on how to kick the photocopier in just the right way to get it working.

A friendship between the two of you had grown, rather quickly. You traded information, sometimes collaborating on pieces, or helping each other out on tough assignments.

One of those assignments had almost gotten you shot when you’d accidentally stumbled into a bar run by the mob and asked the bartender a wrong question. Wasn’t your fault, you’d just been asking for information. How the hell could you have known the Mob Enforcer was sitting at the end of the bar?

It was then that you’d been introduced to Eddie’s ‘other half’. He’d shoved you behind him with enough force that you’d fallen, landing on your ass on the floor. Had mutely stared as blackness rose from his skin, enveloping him, his form doubling in size. Long tongue lolled out from between wicked rows of fangs, pale eyes narrowing at the one that was pumping ineffective bullets into him.

Venom. Holy shit.

You’d seen photos of course. Read the articles. Seen the news. Venom. The supposed ‘Demon of San Francisco’.

You’d always taken that title with a grain of salt. You’d never read about him harming random people, only murderers, muggers, drug pushers.

But then again, you knew how society equated ‘different’ as ‘bad’.

So when a the bartender ducked under the bar and came back up with a shotgun, you hopped to your feet and darted a hand out to grasp the barrel of it, smirking as you applied force, the metal twisting and folding in your grasp as if you were crumpling a ball of paper.

Eddie hadn’t been the only one hiding a secret.

The bartender had done a double take, and you’d calmly shoved him in the chest, the push sending him flying. He hit the wall of bottles with a crash, cheap booze and bits of glass raining down on him as he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

The lack of gunfire had you turning, suddenly nervous again when you saw that Venom had ripped the shooter apart and was now staring at you in what you thought was shock.

“You’re not the only one with secrets,” you’d muttered with a shrug, pausing to gulp down an abandoned shot of bourbon before turning and heading out the door.

It had been Eddie that had caught up to you afterwards as you’d been walking back to work, looking frazzled and shocked.

“What was that?!”

You’d arched an eyebrow at him cooly. “Which part? The part where I accidentally got us shot at or the part where I didn’t tell you I’m a mutant and I’m capable of throwing an SUV across a football field?”

He’d stared at you for a long moment before chuckling and falling into step next to you, shaking his head as he’d bunted his shoulder to yours.

The two of you had become close friends after that. You’d even gotten a proper introduction to Venom, discovering that the symbiote had a mind of it’s own and regularly got Eddie into trouble. It also explained why all the chocolate candy you kept hidden in your desk at work kept vanishing. Sneaky goo alien kept stealing them when you weren’t looking, the bastard.

Three months later found the two of you standing outside a stately house, Eddie grinning as he knocked on the door. You shuffled nervously. He’d insisted on you meeting ‘Anne’ his ex turned friend, who, as a lawyer, might have insight into a new article he was working on.

You’d tagged along, hesitantly. Eddie, you’d discovered, was oblivious as fuck. You’d developed feelings for him after weeks of sharing meals while pouring over research for various articles and editorials, but he either was clueless or just not interested.

So you’d shoved those feelings deep down into the pit of your stomach, telling yourself that even if he wasn’t romantically interested in you, at least you had him, and Venom, as friends. It was better than nothing, you told yourself. Better than not having them in your life at all.

But when the door opened, and Eddie had beamed at the pretty blond in the doorway, you’d felt like someone had kicked you in the stomach. It took everything you had to smile and reach out to shake Anne’s hand when Eddie introduced you, so very careful not to squeeze too hard.

Anne had ushered the two of you inside, and you’d gotten a second punch to the guts when Venom had materialized himself a little, his head appearing on a stalk stemming from Eddie’s back, the symbiote purring a greeting to the woman, who smiled back in return. The alien never really showed himself when you were around.

Jealously, hot and rancid, rose in you, and you clenched your hands into fists for a moment as you beat the feeling back, taking  a deep breath to try to calm yourself. Years of controlling your strength had taught you how to find your center and push back anger and grief - both were dangerous. Both unbalanced you and made it harder to keep a lid on your abilities.

So you pasted a smile onto your face, accepted coffee, made small talk, and let Eddie gush and beam and joke with this woman that you wished was you. Ignored the symbiote when it sent a curious look your way, pale eyes narrowed, and you offered Venom a weak smile and a shrug as you sipped at your drink.

Afterwards, when Anne bid you and Eddie farewell, you lied to him and said you needed to run some errands, needing to get away, to get some distance so you could breathe without having the urge to scream. He’d smiled, giving you a too short hug, and you’d watched him walk away, feeling like something had ripped your heart out.

Chest feeling tight, you pulled out your phone as you stumbled home, quickly texting a friend that you trusted. You trusted her with everything, even the fact that you were a mutant. You’d long ago started to complain to her that Eddie was dense and not picking up on your signals, so you knew that your text of [Fuck my life] would be properly understood.

A moment passed before your phone chimed. [Still? Girl, just invite him over and get naked in front of him.]

A snort left you. [I’m not that brave.]

[You could snap him like a toothpick if he says anything except ‘wow’.]

You quirked a brow. Didn’t know if you were strong enough to fight Venom. And you didn’t want to find out. Not with his penchant for biting people’s head’s off. [Blood’s a bitch to get out of the carpet.]

[Seriously. Just tell him. If he’s too dense to pick up smoke signals, try a bonfire.]

[He likes someone else,] you texted, morosely, remembering the happy look on Eddie’s face when he’d seen Anne. Exes or not, you’d never seen him look that pleased to see anyone before. [She’s blond and smart and pretty and I’m just some freak and I feel like gum under a boot.]

[Sweetie, no! Look, talk to him. The worst that happens is that he says he’s not interested. At least you’ll know! Right?]

[No. The worst that’ll happen is that I’ll lose my best friend. It’ll be like my sister finding out I’m a mutant all over again. He’ll smile, nod, and then never interact with me ever again. I’ll see him at work and it’ll be awkward and horrible and….]

[And it’ll feel like having your heart ripped out.]

[Yeah.]

[Fuck.]

[Yeah.]

[Well, shit. Get drunk?]

You paused and turned your head, looking at the liquor store across the street. [Good idea.]

You shoved your apartment door open minutes later, using too much force and nearly ripping it off it’s hinges. Sighing, you shoved it closed, jamming it into the frame, then paused long enough to lock and slide the chain into place before going to set the bag you were carrying onto the kitchen counter. Pulled a glass out of the cupboard, and a bottle of Kracken Rum out of the bag. Then, kicking your boots off along the way, went to throw yourself down onto the couch.

“Move to a new city,” you muttered as you tossed your phone onto the coffee table before pouring yourself a shot, throwing it back with a cough. “Get a good job. Make new friends. Fuck you school counselor, fucking rat bastard.” Another shot of rum vanished, burning it’s way down your esophagus to settle, warm, in your stomach. “Didn’t say anything about emotional torture, did you? Nooo. Just paint a pretty picture and get the mutant freak out of the small town!”

Your right hand clenched too tight on the glass, and it shattered in your grip, the alcohol in it spilling to the floor amidst shards of glass.

Sighing, you guzzled rum straight from the bottle, then got to your feet and stomped over to the kitchen, retrieving a towel. Muttering, you went and cleaned up the mess you’d made, pausing when your phone chimed again.

You huffed a growl as you picked it up in your good hand, groaning, loudly, when you saw who was texting you.

“Fuck me,” you sighed, because, really, how much worse did your day have to get? Typed a response, even as you muttered more curses under your breath. [What’s up, Eddie?]

[Hey. Thought of something for the article. Mind if I come over and brainstorm with you?]

You looked at the state of your front door, the glass, the small puddles of rum on the floor, and grit your teeth to stop a scream. [Kinda not a good time.]

[You okay?]

“Fucking perfect,” you growled. [Fine. Just… a little drunk. Not really in a ‘brainstorming’ mode anymore.]

[Oh. Okay. See you at work?]

[Yup.] “Smilie,” you muttered darkly. “Add a smilie so he thinks you’re okay.” Dutifully added a ‘good night’ along with a little ‘:)’, then threw your phone onto the coffee table and grabbed your bottle of rum again, guzzling. “Fuck my life.”

Your turmoiled emotions managed to keep you conscious up until you got three quarters through the bottle. Then your body gave up the fight, and you passed out on the couch.

Morning greeted you with a headache, the feeling that you might have been chewing on the couch in your sleep. Groaning, you rolled onto your back, rubbing at your face, then screamed, trying to throw yourself off the couch and only succeeding in thudding to the floor when you saw Venom leaning over the back of the furniture, eyeing you worriedly.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you howled from the floor, clutching at your head afterwards when your voice rebounded inside your skull. “Don’t you use doors?!”

Venom had reared back a bit at the ferocity of your scream, but now, he actually looked amused. “WE KNOCKED, BUT YOU DIDN’T ANSWER.”

“Nnnugghh.” Groaning, you peeled yourself off the floor, staggering to your feet and heading for the kitchen. You needed coffee. A lot of it. Now.

Nearly put your arm through the counter when you stumbled, and you grumbled as you jabbed at the coffee maker’s controls, filling it with water before turning it on, the sound of burbling filling the small room.

Venom was looming in the small kitchen entryway, eyeing you worriedly. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“I’m hungover, so that would be a definite ‘no’,” you grumbled as you sidestepped around him and headed for the bathroom. “Just… just gimme a minute. Raid the fridge, siddown, whatever, just….  fuck off for half a second.”

You made it to the bathroom, and got the door closed. Stared at yourself in the mirror and blinked at the fucking mess that stared back at you. Your hair looked like a tumbleweed and you had lines from the pattern on the couch squished into your cheek.

Attractive.

Trying not to puke, you pee’d, washed your face, brushed your hair so it didn’t look like ‘Hair of Death’, then brushed your teeth to eliminate what was surely one hell of a bad case of morning breath.

That accomplished, you staggered across the hallway into your bedroom, and changed out of your outfit and into some clean underthings, fresh jeans and a clean tee.

Well, you didn’t feel human yet, but you at least looked the part.

Deciding that you couldn’t hide all day - no matter how much you wanted to just curl up in a whole and die - you shuffled out of your bedroom and headed back to the kitchen. The smell of coffee settled your stomach, and you sighed, tired, aching, as you retrieved a mug and poured yourself some liquid caffeine, then sipped at the too-hot drink.

Eddie had made an appearance, and you found him sitting on the couch, frowning down at something in his hands.

Your stomach bottomed out when you saw he was looking at your phone.

For the second time in less than a day, your hand clenched tight and shattered the thing you were holding. Scalding hot coffee washed over your skin and dripped onto the floor, Eddie sending a shocked look your way when you merely stood there and let it happen, trembling slightly.

He had the sense to look embarrassed. “I–”

“Get out.”

Eddie blinked at the angry rasp that left you. “But–”

“Get. The fuck. Out!” The last word came out in a shriek of rage, and you felt pieces of the broken mug crunch under your foot as you stormed forward, grabbing him by his hoodie and hauling him off the couch.

You were halfway across the apartment, fully intending to bodily throw him out the front door, when blackness moved under your hand. Eddie vanished under the symbiote as Venom took over. His form grew another foot, shoulders widening, muscles growing, and you grunted at the new weight, shifting your footing, shoulders tensing as you hefted a little more and shoved.

Venom flew backwards and slammed into the wall hard enough that he left a dent in the plaster, those pale eyes widening as you clenched your fists and got ready for a fight. Because you needed a fight. Something, anything, to get the feeling of betrayal out of your system.

Amazingly, a low, rumbling, chuckle left him. “THAT WAS HOT.”

The urge to fight fizzled out with a wash of disbelief. “What?”

Those fangs bared themselves in a wide grin. “YOU HEARD US.”

Okay. Now you wanted to scream. Gritting your teeth, you sunk your hands into your hair and turned to stomp into the living-room a bit before spinning back to glare at Venom, who blinked. “Just… What the fuck?! You can’t just come in here and read someone’s goddamn texts, that’s like, fucking invasion of privacy!”

“MORSEL…”

“Hush!” You pointed a finger at him. “Shush! Shut. Up.”

“NO.” He stalked forward, and you held your ground, glaring up at him as he moved into your personal space. “EDDIE WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU. ANNIE CALLED HIM, TOLD HIM HE WAS AN IDIOT. SAID YOU LIKED HIM AND THAT HE WAS BLIND.”

God. How transparent had you been that a complete stranger could tell that you were fucking pining like some old timey damsel. Fuck.

When you didn’t say anything, Venom leaned down, face inches from yours. “HE WORRIES. THINKS HE HAS TO PUSH PEOPLE AWAY BECAUSE OF US. IS AFRAID THAT WE’D HURT YOU.” He tiled his head, pale eyes narrowing a little as he smirked. “BUT YOU’RE NICE AND STRONG, AREN’T YOU?”

You grit your teeth hard enough that your jaw twinged. Had to force yourself to calm down before you cracked a tooth. “What’s your point?”

“OUR POINT, MORSEL, IS THIS.”

You gasped as he yanked you forward, one taloned hand gripping your shoulder as he crashed his mouth onto yours. His tongue slipped between your lips, invading and exploring your mouth, the low rumble that left him vibrating into you and making you shudder in reaction.

He literally kissed the breath out of you, and you were panting, dazed, when Venom finally pulled away. You sucked in a shuddering breath, and when you opened your eyes, it was Eddie’s face that you focused on, his steel blue eyes instantly locking onto yours.

“We’re sorry,” he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms, palms warming your skin as he curled his fingers around yours. “I’m sorry for… Fuck. Everything? Yeah. Everything. We… I thought– I don’t know what I thought. That you’d be afraid? Or… or something.”

You let your breath out in a sigh, all the remaining anger draining from you and leaving your hangover to take it’s place. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Sorry. Your phone chimed and… Yeah. Shouldn’t have done that. Your friend though, wants to know if you, ahem, ‘grew a pair and boned him yet’.”

The wicked glint in his eyes, and the feeling of the blush warming your face, made you want to vanish into the floor. “Goddamn it.”

Eddie chuckled. “We were wondering if we had competition.”

You stared at him for a moment, then groaned and closed your eyes. “I need coffee. Do you want coffee?”

He had the good graces not to outright laugh at how flustered you were. “Sure.”

“Okay. Good. Coffee.” Eddie followed you to the kitchen, and you did your best to squash the urge to drink the rest of the rum. Instead, you took out two mugs and filled each with coffee. “You want sugar or milk? I make this strong, so…”

“We’ll risk it,” he smiled, and you shrugged as you handed him his cup, leaning back against the counter as you drank from yours. Had to stifle a laugh when he took a sip and made a face, eyes watering.

A snicker left you. “I did warn you.”

“Jesus, this could melt tank armor!” Eddie moved to the fridge and pulled out the milk, adding a copious amount to his mug. “How can you drink this?”

“I like strong coffee. Wakes you up in the morning.”

“This would revive the dead! Where’s the sugar?”

You watched, amused, as he moved to the small bowl of sugar on the counter and started to spoon some into his drink. At the fifth spoonful, you rolled your eyes and snatched up a dish cloth, leaving him as you went to clean up the remains of your first cup of coffee.

The liquid had made a stain on the hardwood, and you carefully gathered up the bits of broken mug before wiping up the cold coffee off the floor. Set it on the coffee table when you were done, sighing as you sank down onto the couch and waited for Eddie.

He shuffled out of the kitchen moments later, sipping at his coffee again, and you wondered how much sugar he’d put into it. It looked a little syrupy.

Eddie sighed as he dropped down onto the couch next to you. “So… Did we crash and burn or…?”

You gave that some thought. “You crashed. Spectacularly. But, were revived on scene.”

A chuckle left him. “Does that mean you’ll let us take you out for breakfast and real coffee?”

“This is real coffee.”

“It really isn’t.”

”Hmpft.”

Eddie snipped at his drink a bit before grinning. “It was kinda hot, you picking us up like that,” he commented offhandedly, helpfully reaching out to slap you on the back when you choked, coffee filling your sinuses.

“You’re weird,” you rasped once you could breathe again.

“I’m bonded to an alien symbiote.‘Weird’ isn’t even on the map anymore,” Eddie smirked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him. He took another sip of coffee, made a face, then gave up and set his mug on the coffee table. “Offer of breakfast still stands. We can, uh, figure some stuff out over pancakes or something. If… if you’re interested? I mean, we’re… Venom’s been pushing me to talk to you for weeks, but I was afraid…” He cut himself off with a huff and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Annie called me a moron and told me to just jump in. That you were waiting for me to make the first move. So… we’re here. Moving.”

You eyed him, and the black tendril that extended from his shoulder to caress your cheek. You reached up to touch it, smiling a little when it curled around your fingers and squeezed, cool and sinuous. “Breakfast, huh?”

He nodded, smiling warmly. “Our treat.”

“…you look at my phone again without permission and I’ll feed it to you.”

Venom’s face materialized on a stalk and grinned at you. “KINKY.”

[btsbabes7]

“The Deep Blue.”

Chapter 2

Summary: Dion and Cora were surfer sisters taking a break from a surfing competition to relax. After ignoring the warnings of the dangerous, no-surf zone in the deep blue, they almost lose their life. They wake up facing Gods before them. Is this under water city just a dream? Or is it the answer to their life- long prophecy they knew nothing about?

 Word count: 5,321

Genre: Hybrid!AU Gods!AU Fantasy. Angst. Science-fiction. Slight Mythology.

Cora’s POV

My throat burns. Why does my body ache so much? Something feels off, but I can not quite put my finger on it. Why can’t I move? The throbbing pain in my head makes my eyes flutter open. My vision is blurry, but I see a bright light surrounding two figures. I want to rub my eyes, but I can barley lift my hand. “Take it easy Miss.” My ears barely pick up on the deep voice. He snaps his fingers near my ear, and it isn’t as loud as I would expect. He keeps snapping until I wince, displaying that my hearing is gradually getting better. “Okay. Jimin, write this down. Hearing response is normal.” A bright white light flashes back and forth in my line of sight and I blink rapidly. “Pupils are still  slow at dilating. Miss, can you see me?” I focus on his smooth and deep voice as my hearing is back to normal. The blurriness disappears slowly as I watch him pocket a small flashlight in his coat pocket. “Miss? Nod if you can see me clearly.” He leans in and I get a better glance of his face as my eyes gain better focus. 

He has beautiful skin. It glows and shows off his sharp, but soft features. Long ashy, blonde hair drape over his honey colored eyes. His plump lips show a soft smile that makes his presence feel inviting. I feel my chest tighten and my cheeks warm up, nodding slightly to his question. “Hmm.. Your cheeks are showing more color. That is a good sign. Write that down.” He says to the shorter male beside him. “I have to run a few tests on you, but for now, you are okay. Please put your trust in us.” He places his hand reassuringly to my arm. The warmth of his hand leaves as quickly as it was placed on my skin, due to a weird shocking feeling. It was more like.. a zap? He frowns, but shakes his head and walks away. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My throat burns. What happened to me? Where is Dion? Is she okay? All these thoughts race through my mind, making my head feel dizzy with exhaustion. My eyes shuffle around the room looking for the man, but my eyelids fail me. Soon enough, my eyes are closed and I lose consciousness. 

Seokjin’s POV

My clock chimes in my office, pulling my mind from the enormous amounts of books and paper work on my desk. “Damn. It is already past 9 pm.” I lean back in my office chair, stretching my limbs and releasing a yawn. Maybe I should take some of this research to Taehyung. I take off my reading glasses and place them on my desk before I pinch the bridge of my nose to relieve some tension. After gathering all of the documents I deemed necessary, I exit my office and head towards Taehyung’s lab to see if he had made progress.

I notice the hallways are vacant as I walk up to the lab doors. I tap on the door lightly with my free hand, making sure not to cause too much of a noise to alarm others. The lock clicks and Taehyung’s face appears after he creaks open the door slightly. “Jin. Come in,” he whispered. He opened the door slowly and allowed me to enter, placing a finger to his lips to shush me from being too loud. I look around the room and notice a sleeping Jimin curled up in his chair on the opposite side of the room. Taehyung notices my hands full with books and papers, taking some of the load out of my hold. “He crashed huh?” I asked, showing a smile at the smaller male as he clings to the lab coat covering his tiny frame. “Ha. Yeah. The visions must have exhausted him. He has been out for an hour now,” Taehyung exclaimed as he placed the books on the counter. “One of them is alive.” I accidentally drop the books on the counter, receiving a “Shuuush” as a loud whisper from the other. “Are you serious?” I peer my head around Taehyung and notice the dark haired girl hooked up to multiple machines and a IV, her chest heaving slightly as she breathes sleepily. “Woah.”

After an hour of checking vitals and Taehyung’s charting, I leave the girl’s side. “Well I am glad to see it was a success for one, but I am curious about the other.” I look over to the red haired girl. We placed her in a modified aerodynamic capsule. It should keep her body chilled until tomorrow. My talisman that hangs from my pendant begins glowing, pulling me from my thoughts. Taehyung reaches out and grasps it in his hands. “Seems like Namjoon is trying to get in touch with you. Go ahead. I’ll be fine here,” he says. “You sure?” He nods and starts charting more paperwork. “Okay then, but Tae don’t stay up too late. Be sure to look through those scrolls and books I brought too. I went through so much trouble going through the hidden archives in the library just to look up that research on humans. I’ll wake Jimin and take him to his chambers.” Taehyung nods a thank you as I wake Jimin and help his half-asleep form head for the door. “Jin?” he calls out. I turn to face him before opening up the door. “Can you not tell the others about her waking up yet? I want to do it tomorrow morning, you know, just to make sure she lasts through the night.” I smile and nod. “Sure, Tae.” And with that, I left the lab with Jimin to help him to bed, soon heading straight for Namjoon.

Cora’s POV

All of my senses crash into me at once. My head throbs, waking me from my slumber. My eyes flutter open and notices a small ray of light shining from the window and the bedside lamp. My nose picks up on aromas of rubbing alcohol and kelp, maybe? I smack my lips together, realizing how dry my mouth and throat is. It burns. My body still aches slightly, but it is bearable. I wiggle my toes and fingers, feeling my muscles and tendons relax to the weak stretches. When I move my leg, it bumps softly into something. I raise my head to some degree and glance at the guy from earlier. The beautiful man I saw from before was resting his head on my bed side. His arm firmly tucks under his cheek, and his reading glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose. I examine his long lashes and the way he hugs his clip board close to his chest. Small, soft snores escape his drooling lips. I catch myself smiling.

The metallic taste in my mouth rips me from my curious thoughts of the man before me. I’m thirsty. I notice the IV in my hand and I regard the various machines beside me, hooking up to my chest and head. Where the fuck am I? It doesn’t really look like a normal hospital room. What happened? Better yet, who is this guy? I look around the room and notice another guy across the room, asleep in a chair. Who is he? I look further for more clues from my surroundings. My eyes finally lap upon my sister laying still in some sort of body capsule. Dion!? My brain pulsated and causes me to wince as my memories flood back to me. Water. So much water. Waves crash down on me as Dion floats further away. That’s right. We were in trouble. The waves were dragging us apart and under water. So why are we here? What is wrong with my sister? Panic starts to set in and I start lazily kicking my legs, causing the stranger beside me to wake up. My throat makes strained groans and noises as I try to speak. “Easy. Take it easy Miss. You are in good hands. Everything is okay,” the man exclaims with worry. My lips move, but no words form. He realizes and grabs some type of needle-less syringe from the table near him, filling it with some sort of liquid and squirting it in my mouth. My esophagus reacts on instinct and swallows the flux. I start feeling more hydrated as the liquid rushes down. “Go ahead. Try to speak. That should help.” He sits back down in his chair close to the bed. My lips begin working again, failing few times at expressing words. “W..Whe..” He nods and leans in closer. “That’s it. Keep trying.” My brows furrow and I let out a soundless sigh. “W-Where.. A-am I?”

Taehyung’s POV

I smile as she slowly begins to talk in very small sentences. “I am Taehyung. You are in a special place, and there is a lot to explain to you, but right now lets focus on your health.” I say as I begin to softly rub her hand and she seems to slowly calm down. “The girl you were with is recovering, but it is a bit slower for her because she had a massive head injury. I hope that she awakens soon and will be okay. We are not real doctors because we have never had the chance to have outsiders here.” I say, being careful not to alarm her by telling her that the girl she is with is actually not alive. I hear a soft knock on the door and I sense her panic again. “Shhh, it is fine. It is probably my brother.” I stand up and walk to the door and open it enough to see Jimin standing there. “Come inside.” 

Jimin’s POV

I walk inside the room and see the bright blue eyed girl staring at me. “Hello there. I am Jimin.” I say in a calm tone as I walk up near her with a little bowl in my hand. “I made some seaweed soup for you if you are ready to eat, and I will get you some water,” I say as she seems to nod at me. I sit the soup down on the table beside her as I reach in my little bag that is wrapped around my body and pull out a round clear bubble of water. “This is our water. You just put your lips on it and suck.” I hold the water bulb near her lips to help her because I know she must be weak. Her eyes get wide when she begins drinking it which makes me giggle. “Good, right?” I ask her and she nods her head. “Yes v-very good.” She says in a very small voice. “Ah look at you already speaking! The medicine we have given you and your friend works really fast on the healing process.” I give her a soft smile when she looks at the soup. “Come, lets eat.” I say as I start to cool the soup down. 

Taehyung’s POV 

I watch her react with Jimin for a little bit and continue to write down the reactions and reflexes she has. “Jimin, Do not overwhelm her. She may need time to process things, and we probably should get Namjoon in here so he can explain things to her.” I say to Jimin. I walk up to her side. “The leader of us all here would like to explain things better to you once you two meet. Is it okay if we bring him in here in a bit?” I watch you slowly move your lips. “You’ll stay with me right?” She asks me which confuses me. “What is your name?” I ask as I sit up on the edge of the table. “Cora. My name is Cora. I would like to meet him.” She says in a almost normal voice so I reach and touch my pendent. I stare at her as Jimin begins to take a spoon and feed her the soup. I turn and walk to the wall that is see through. “I am changing the skin of this room so no one can see in here because we need this to be top secret now.” 

Namjoon’s POV 

I sit in my bedroom and stare off into the ocean, thinking about how badly this whole situation could be. “Did I make the right call? I am risking my position as king for two humans. There is reasoning for the rules of no humans.” I frown then feel my pendent slightly give a little vibration. Upon touching it, I see that it is Taehyung that needs me. My thoughts go to the girls. What if they are awake now?! I stand up and begin my way to the medical room. After arrival, I knock on the door and wait for someone to open. It opens, and I see Jimin smiling. 

Walking into the room, I see Taehyung’s back blocking the young girl. “What is it?” I ask as he moves to the side, and I see her looking back at me. Honestly, I do not feel relieved that she made it because now all of this is real, but I shake off the feeling and walk to Taehyung. “How is she? Does she know what has happened, and can she speak to us now?” I ask nervously as I hear her voice. I can’t help but to grin at her. “I do remember some of it.” She says softly. 

“My name is Namjoon. I am the future ruler of this city.” I say and you extend a hand out to me, causing me confusion. “You are among the original descendants of God of the Sea. We are gods among your kind, and you are in a underwater city called Lyonesse.” I get cut off by Taehyung touching my arm. “Don’t give to much information for her to process yet, okay?” He says with a worried expression and turns to her. “Cora, are you okay? I don’t want to push you.” He says while reach out to touch her arm which makes me worried. Why is Taehyung clinging to his subject like this? Usually he is nonchalant and cold towards his projects. My thoughts come to a halt as Cora clears her throat, turning everyone’s attention to her.

Cora’s POV 

“Um.. Mr. Namjoon, sir? I have questions.” He raises his eye brow as the smaller male with pink hair giggles. “Namjoon is fine. Ask your quesions,” says the silver haired male with a stern voice and unreadable face. “Well.. you mentioned that I am in some underwater city? You keep naming off all these names I have never heard of. And I am pretty sure I just drank from a formed bubble of water? Am I dead? What is going on here? And what is wrong with my sister? I need answers.” Taehyung shifts in his seat and chimes in before Namjoon can. “Cora. What Namjoon says is true. You are not dead. You are very much alive. You both nearly drowned.” I watch as Namjoon shoots the handsome male a conflicted gaze from his choice of words. Jimin pulls my attention from them when he wraps his hands around mine. “Sweetie, we will explain things in detail much later. We are just happy you are alive and well.” He radiates with a beautiful, wide smile, making his eyes turn to crescents. I immediately feel at ease with his presence, until he lets out a gasp and his eyes turn completely white.

Jimin’s POV

Flashes of white blotch over my eyes as a vision comes forth. My hands clench around her hand as I tense my muscles, losing complete control of my surroundings.

*vision (spoken in Jimin’s explanation)*

I see a long haired man by the sea shore, looking off to the ocean. A human woman comes up beside him and he faces her. It is our God Poseidon. I have never really seen prophecies of him before. He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her. The scene before me goes blurry. There is a time skip.

Now another scene envelops in front of me. The two are bickering in a house? A cottage maybe? Poseidon stomps out. The human woman follows him to the beach. Dark clouds form and the waves clash harshly against the beach. She is yelling at him, tears dripping from her eyes. I can not hear their words, just a static noise along with the sounds of a forming storm and heavy waves. He stands there staring at her with his feet firmly planted in the sand. He frowns and begins walking in the water, slowly disappearing from sight. She starts to chase after him, but trips. Her knees stay potted in the sand as she cries out. The scene blurs once again. No! What happened? I don’t understand. Then, there was another time skip.

I am in a house. The same woman is there, facing away from me and looking out of the window. From the scenery, it looks as if she is in another country, not like the small cottage she once lived in by the beach. She sighs and turns around, leaving the window. My eyes broaden at the sight before me. She holds her impregnated stomach fondly. Then, blur. Everything goes white.

*end of vision*

My jaw opens, letting out a strangled gasp. My eyes return to their natural state of chocolate brown iris’. I look down and drop your hands immediately. My mind tries to boggle the images I just saw. Why did I see Poseidon? Who was that woman? It wasn’t her, or her friend for that mater. Not to mention, what did she have to do with this? Taehyung shakes my shoulder, bringing me back from my thoughts. “Jimin! What did you see? What is happening?” I look at him and Namjoon, then back to a very confused Cora. “I... I..I’m sorry. I gotta go.” I turn around and grab my bag before sprinting towards the door and out of the lab. My feet move faster than my brain, taking me to the outer wall force field separating this building and the ocean. I step through and shift to my hybrid form, swimming away before the others can follow me. I needed to clear my head and try making some sense of this.

Taehyung’s POV

I sense her panic as she sees Jimin running off. She tries to stand up, and I push her back to lay down on the bed. “Your body is too weak for walking yet. I promise he is okay. We each have powers that I will explain to you later, and his happens to be seeing visions. That is how we found you girls actually. He saw you drowning, and we came out to find you both.” I say softly as she clings to my arm. “You need some more medicine. Let me get another dosage.” I gentle remove her hand from me and walk to the table on the other side of the room. I sneakily pour it into a cup and walking back to her. “Drink it all. Okay?” I put my finger over my lips to tell you to not say anything about the drink. “Namjoon, We need to let the guys know she is awake. Also, I do not want her staying in here with her sister right there so we need to move her into a bedroom.” I say to Namjoon. 

Namjoon’s POV

I agree with what Taehyung is saying, but how am I suppose to get her into a bedroom without anyone seeing us? “Okay. Well I will need to plan this out with the guys, and that means they need to meet her.” I say knowing he would understand that I was worried mainly about Yoongi and Jungkook. “I will call them up now, so you may wanna explain to her not to say much because they are not happy with their presence.” I say before nodding at her and backing out of the room. My hands grab for my necklace, griping the pendent , and concentrating on calling them all up here. I stand waiting for a few minutes. As I turn around from hearing footsteps, I see them walking up and I can already since trouble. 

“One of them is now awake, and we need to make a plan to get her into a bedroom.” I say before spotting a maid walking down the steps. “Quickly. In the medical room!” I say opening the door and stepping inside behind the boys, quickly locking it behind me. The room falls dead silent. “Sorry Taehyung. We had no time to let you explain anything.” I say as I step near the table with her. “We need to plan things fast. Some of the maids are starting their cleaning shifts, and we do not want others learning about our new guests.”

Hoseok’s POV

I was the first one that attempted to say something. “Hello strange one.” With a smile on my face, I step forward to take a closer look. “I am Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi. I am the middle man in this drama.” I let out a small, amusing chuckle to relieve the tension in the room. “I am neither for nor against you being here, but in any case it is nice to meet you.” I say to you as you slowly extend your hand to me, I take it. “My name is Cora,” she exclaims loud enough for us all to hear her. She looks over my shoulder, meeting the gaze of Jungkook and Yoongi I am sure. “They are the ones you need to be careful of here for a while. They are worried you are going to hurt us or make Namjoon loose his path to the crown.” 

Seokjin’s POV 

I walk up to Taehyung and pull him to the side. “How are her vitals? Have you checked her heart at all? We need to do a full check when we make it to the bedroom because we have to monitor her for a while.” I say before turning to her and nodding my head in greeting. “Hello Cora, pleasure to see you awake now. These two hotheads are Yoongi and Jungkook.” I say as I point from one to the other. They equally scoff and cross their arms over their chest defensively. “Okay so what is this plan exactly?” I ask Namjoon and begin checking her medical chart. “Taehyung, You did a great job. I like that you made sure to give great notes.” I say as I pat him on the back. “I know this must have been hard on you a bit, since you are only a scientist. But I must say that these notes go into great detail of her progress.” My cheeks stretch to a proud smile before Namjoon approaches us.

Namjoon’s POV

I step closer towards them, ready to advise my plan. “Okay. So we need to create a meeting or something with the city which means I will have to create some sort of announcement. I will even make our staff come out for the meeting. So I will leave now and go to the temple to call for everyone. Now, Jimin has had a vision, and he left. So it is up to us to make this happen. Taehyung, You will carry her to a bedroom. Hoseok, I want you to make sure everyone is out of our house. Tell them all that they will miss an important announcement if they are not present. Jin, You need to be checking her vitals because with that move I am sure her body will be very fragile.”

I turn my body to Yoongi and Jungkook with a stern and serious look. “Jungkook, I need you to be with them. Temporarily blind anyone who is in the house when moving her, okay?” He nods at me, acting as if he is ready for some action to happen just so he can use his power. Before I can make Yoongi’s position out, Taehyung walks up behind me and whispers. “He will need to stay here and watch over the one that isn’t awake. If she wakes up in that tank, she will drown in it.” He backs away, moving towards Cora to comfort her again. “Yoongi, you will stay here to protect and monitor the one in the tube.” He stares at me intensely, obvious annoyance plastered on his face. I challenge him by stepping closer to him,showing who was still superior. “Is that going to be a issue?” After a few seconds of eye contact, he breaks and huffs out a sigh, shaking his head slowly as a response. “Good. Another thing. If we come back and she is hurt in anyway I will do the same to you.” He bows slowly to me, backing up as he takes in my threatening words. “Alright then. I will be going now. I will call you all when to start, okay?” They all face me and announce their understanding. I give a quick nod and leave, beginning my swim to the Temple located center of the city. 

Yoongi’s POV  

I look up at the girl in the tube and think of all the ways I could very easily kill her. but I was pulled back in by Taehyung walking up beside me. “If she wakes up press this button here, and make sure you are gentle with her. She will need to be laid on the table here and given this cup of medicine. She must drink it all, okay Yoongi?” He points to the big button on the panel while looking at me with a hurried expression. His eager and cocky attitude annoyed the fuck out of me. I did not want to be brought in the middle of this, but I am loyal to them, especially Namjoon. “Go on and prepare your stuff because as soon as you all get done, I want out of here, I spat out coldly. I hear Taehyung mumble “I hope Jimin comes back to help watch her because I don’t trust him with her.” I scoff and roll my eyes as his little comment, even though it is pretty accurate. Honestly, I did not trust myself with her ether. 

Cora’s POV

I watch Taehyung walk over to me and begin preparing a few things. “You seem worried Taehyung. Will my sister be okay with him? Is he that bad of a person?” I ask, trying to not draw his attention to myself, but failing. I gulp as he walks over to me and smiles, but not in a friendly way. I notice his vicious looking black eyes, hiding half my face behind Taehyung’s body. He laughs and walks away slowly. “Stupid, weak humans,” his husky voice sounds as he takes a seat. My attention turns back to Taehyung as he picks me up bridal style and walks me over to Dion’s tank. I lean my head against the glass. “Wake up please! Do not leave me alone in this weird place. We made each other a promise to never leave the other alone, and you better keep your end of this promise.” I smile, wiping away a few escaped tears and nod at Taehyung. Suddenly the pendent around his thick neck starts glowing. I unknowingly point at it and he darts towards the door.  “Let’s make this quick.” He says as we leave the room. 

We begin making our way to the bedroom as we hear a distant voice coming up the hallway. Jungkook comes at us and shoves us into an empty ballroom quickly. “Stay here for a minute,” he says in a hushed voice before closing the door behind him. We hear him talking to someone seconds after in the hallway. Taehyung’s body tenses as he leans his back against the door, peaking out of the doors small window. My eyes can not help but check out his gorgeous features. His chest slightly heaves, mouth parted as he takes deep breathes. His jaw line is clenches, small drops of sweat forming near his brow. He is beautiful, but I can not focus on this. I close my eyes tightly, trying to rid myself of these thoughts. There is no time to fantasize about the handsome stranger. Not when I am in a strange new world and my sister is fighting for her life. I need to collect myself and pull it together. I will save Dion and find away to escape this bizarre place.

Namjoon’s POV

I gather everyone into the temple, and you can easily see the whole town is confused as to why I am calling them here. “Hello my brothers and sisters! I am bringing you here today because we have a celebration to plan It is for our great God’s Day, the day this place was created and we were made in his image.” I site my hand towards the Poseidon stature in the middle of the Temple’s circle. “I will need everyone to make a pledge to be there and help out with the festivities. I have a scroll I would like signed first. Then, I will proceed with this meeting.” The crowd cheers with excitement for the upcoming holiday. I took over at Hoseok and he gives me a okay signal, letting me know I am doing well with time. A smile stretches on my face as I wave to the people. I just hope the others are doing their part.

Yoongi’s POV

As soon as the door closes, I look up at the tank, slowly getting up and walking towards it. I have never really seen a human up close and this one was very interesting looking. Her hair was long and deep red, draping down to her hips. Her skin was pale, but had these strange little dots all over the flesh. “What a strange, pretty creature you are.” I say as I tap the glass of her pod. I look over her very curvy figure as her lifeless body floats in front of me. “I still wonder what and why Jimin had a vision about you both. It is odd and frankly confuses me.” I catch myself talking to someone that can’t even hear me. I turn around to sit down beside the tank, leaning against it I begin to go into deep thought about what could happen if we change our rules of human interaction. I come back into reality hearing a loud beeping . Suddenly, I hear faint thumps on the glass, causing me to whip my head around. I stand up, shocked to see her eyes wide open and panicking. I quickly hit the open button, causing the water to quickly drain and the glass to quickly slide back into the wall. Her body stumbles forward, flying out at me. My eyes bugle as my reflexes catch her body. She coughs for a minute before looking up at me sluggishly. She has the greenest eyes I have ever seen in my life, making me gulp whatever harsh words I might have blurted out.  “Hello.” I mutter softly to her.

[stronghours]

Dropped my therapist a couple months ago.

Therapist, who went on during the first appointment that it was a safe space for anything, to cry or scream or yell or cuss or run around or just generally lose it. What she actually meant was it was safe to scream or cry or cuss or lose it when the five or so differing scripts in her head allowed it or were devised to push me that far. The one time I got angry without her trying to coax it, and raised my voice (slightly) she jumped up in her seat, as far away from me as she could get, and asked if I needed to leave. Any fight I had was just suctioned from body. It was like all my bones had been rubberized. And I knew could tell her things about her methods that bothered me, things she did that crossed boundaries, suggestions for how I wanted things to go and at what speed, and she’d nod and follow along for an appointment or so before floating back to the five or so scripts and timelines I think she had stored in her brain.

In the last appointment she said she had guessed I was about to fire her, that she’d asked her boss for advice on how to “connect” with me and hadn’t received anything helpful, and that I had a flat affect and was difficult to understand. I don’t know. She asked too few questions and the questions she did ask I couldn’t grasp or talk about at the length she required. Every once in a while it looked like she’d reach some point in her head where the script said it was time for me to get mad and start emoting, and she’d lean forward, close towards me (something I had told her not to do) and start saying things like “What’s the QUESTION you’re avoiding?? You KNOW the question you’re avoiding! You tell ME the question you’re avoiding! You tell ME why you’re frustrated! Why are you MAD?” and I wouldn’t be mad at all. 

It was a corny situation overall and due to the nature of what it is to be like me, I couldn’t even work up any selfish glee or smugness that I was frustrating her so much. I could only feel kind of bad for wasting her time, being a bad client, or potentially misunderstanding my experiences worse than I had imagined, or overstating my issues and that I didn’t need therapy at all.

Like, the first session she asked me if I minded her writing things down and taking notes and I said no, I actually find it reassuring to see her taking notes - So she never took notes again. I brought up writing a lot and it was common knowledge it’s a big part of my life and how I want to live my life – So she never asked me any specific question about writing ever. She tried to plumb depths that weren’t there, cut off discussions that I thought could continue, and in the end made a couple wild Freudish interpretations that sort of alarmed me (A medical problem that had occurred that summer was a ‘psychosomatic issue’ stemming from my subconscious belief that I couldn’t get comfort from my mom without the legitimacy of being sick – actually, I probably just had acid reflux irritating my esophagus, exacerbated by pool chlorine). She’d never been the type to throw out wild nonsense and I figure she was finally just giving up and throwing out lines, while I had several lines already tossed out, lying at her feet, for her to grab! Lines I’d physically picked up and placed in her hands after she dropped them multiple times!

The depression receded a bit and I was working (writing) again so I did not feel the loss much, or at all. She was I guess a perfectly nice soft butch, just not particularly helpful. The most important thing I learned is, a corny, sometimes alarmingly bad therapist won’t necessarily wreck your life, just kind of embarrass it for a while. But I’m still frustrated and sad that consistently, when I make the effort to be transparent and communicate, the message I get back is, “whoops, not transparent enough! Whoops, you’re transparent in the wrong way! Whoops, you were transparent at the wrong time, in the wrong context! Whoops, actually, this is inconvenient and I can’t understand you at all, you flat-affected sarcophagus-woman, but I will be very performative and shocked if you scowl a little bit!”