#thread: drunk and conceited

[monroeknoxwrites]

im replying to your Twitter three sentences prompt here!

I was wondering if you could do SJ X Tlj In an au where they meet when sj had just gotten in the sect?

Shen Jiu arrived in his usual room to find the ladies waiting for him with another guest. The first time he'd witness such a sight he stormed out, spitting venomous words at the man who followed him out. He retreated to cang qiong mountain and resigned himself to a sleepless night.

The man was persistent. He learned his lesson at least, waiting for Shen Jiu outside the brothel next time. He attempted to engage him in wine and exchanging lewd stories.

As most people did, Shen Jiu knew the man must assume he desired the company of the jiejies here for their bodies alone. He brushed past him and hurried to the safety of his private room.

Months of refusal didn't seem to discourage the man. He was at the brothel every time Shen Jiu left the mountain. Frustrated, and finding his threats useless, he asked around about him. He's taken aback to learn the man is like him – he never does more than drink and trade stories with the girls, most of which are romantic in nature.

On their advice, he relented, accepted an invitation to share a drink with him.

"Just this once," Shen Jiu said, his thorny exterior unchanged.

"Then I'll treasure it." The man gestured at his face. "And you won't find it too unpleasant with a face like this to look at."

Despite himself, Shen Jiu huffed a laugh. Conceited fool.

But he wasn't altogether wrong...

A few drinks turned into a few more and before Shen Jiu realized it, he'd become drunk. He was so tired, so ready for a night sleep without waking every so often at a noise. Imagining it was him. The comforting thought that he was dead, by Shen Jiu's own hand, didn't reach him in his dreams.

He'd been too busy to visit the brothel the past few days.

In the morning he woke in a pile of warm bodies. Most of them were soft, sweet smelling, the usual jiejies who spent the night with him. But he found his head pillowed a broader chest, one not entirely without softness but in a different way. The scent in his nose was spiced and floral intermingled with something strange, like smelling something sharp at a distance.

He glanced up to see that pretty face soft with sleep.

Shen Jiu slunk out of the brothel that morning and didn't return for weeks. He checked himself over countless times but found nothing amiss. No part of him marked or defiled.

His dreams were – different. He'd be in that place, sword in hand, covered in blood and tears, knowing killing that monster hadn't cleaned the taint off him no matter how many times he killed him. The blood-soaked manor around him would sway and he'd feel some dark abyss waiting to swallow him up.

Then a hand took his hand. The grip was firm yet didn't restrain him. The world settled and he stared into deep eyes set in a pretty face.

"Let me tell you a story," the man said, his voice drowning out the screams – others and Shen Jiu's own.

"What do you want from me?" Shen Jiu demanded. He held the sword in his free hand, scared to let it go but unsure if he should use it. These strange dreams had to stop.

The man smiled. It was as alluring as the rest of him. "Didn't I tell you that night?"

Words and images came back to Shen Jiu of an older version of himself sitting in a nice room, surrounded by pretty women and one equally pretty man. He recalled the man smiling as he did now to the same question, rising his wine cup to say:

"I only wish to know you."

Shen Jiu woke from a full night's sleep. He went about his day feeling refreshed in body but his mind was tangled in knots.

Following the tangled threads led him to the brothel, to the room he often used. To the sight of his jiejies and that man waiting for him.

To a welcoming smile.

"A tenacious pest," Shen Jiu spat as he took his place among them.

The man laughed, handing him a cup of tea. "No wine tonight." It was quite an apology but a consideration.

"Drink if you wish," Shen Jiu said, taking the cup.

"A-Jiu you must listen to the scandalous story he was telling us," one of the jiejies said, arms about his waist, drawing him close. Any outsider would find it a lascivious gesture, typical fawning of a brothel girl with her patron. Shen Jiu let her embrace him, feeling safe, comforted, as one would in the arms of their real jiejie.

At his other side, the man sat close but left a gap between them. Shen Jiu knew there was something dangerous about this man lurking beneath he surface but it wasn't the kind that kept Shen Jiu awake at night. It wasn't meant for him.

He said nothing about it. He listened and scoffed and even let himself laugh once or twice.

When he felt himself drifting off the sleep without the aid of alcohol, the man to one side of him and the jiejies another, he wasn't afraid at all.

[cielsosinfel]

(copying over a ridic long twitter thread where I rambled nonsensically about Rolan post-Lorroakan fight, don't mind me. I have even more thoughts since I read through the Dialogue Parser and saw how his behavior changes if either Cal or Lia, OR BOTH, die that has me even more gdkghkhkh ok i guess i rambled about that in the tags, anyway, i'll copy those bluesky posts over later)

didn't make it to HoH but I did beat Lorroakan finally (I just had to change Lae'zel to battlemaster and give her goading strike and she carried me the whole way lmao) and ROLAN... ROLAN.... ROLAAAAAAAAAAN... i am 100% satisfied with how his story concludes

I'm still kinda surprised how much a fairly minor side character, whose death in the game has negligible impact on anything, stil got to me so bad... the way you can tell from the first scene that he's deeply insecure + deeply stressed over responsibility for his siblings' safety

(instead of trusting his siblings to be able to watch out for themselves as much as him). And he covers it all up with really embarrassing self-aggrandizement, just so conceited, gets mad at TavDurge for showing him up in a way that makes him look weak and incapable.

THE WAY HES AN ANGRY ABUSIVE DRUNK IN ACT 2 AND EVEN when you rescue Cal and Lia he's still so angry and yelling, and Lia is too. i get the impression Lia was the one who always looked out for Cal and Rolan as kids so she has her own issues with needing to be the Strong one

and Rolan is chafing over being the weak adopted brother and has developed even WORSE issues over being the Strong one, and neither can concede ground on who has is the most responsible sibling, and the dynamic is all fucked up and Cal is the only one trying to find some balance

neither of them ever learned they can express they were terrified for the other's sake, and terrified of being too weak to look out for the other, without wrapping it up in protective anger and finger-pointing. it's just ;________;

it really hit hard when he actually apologizes for the way he acted while horrifically drunk in act 2 lol... but then if you stand around him and Lia are still arguing. they really just need to hug it out. cal sitting off to the side desperately wishing they'd hug it out

anyway the fact Rolan is so conceited and assured of his own power and greatness and ability to handle Everything On His Own, that he desperately convinces himself his new master beating him for no good reason constantly has a meaning, he just has to survive to prove himself...

and survive to provide for his siblings (who can't even live with him because lorroakan is that much of a dick???), and is just, a shadow of how he was in act 2, angry and aggressive and ready to take on an army himself for cal and lia's sake, just gets to me sooooooo bad. god.

I just think about what kind of mental gymnastics he must be doing since he got to the Tower, feeling so angry but needing to square everything happening with the image he built up of this guy he HERO WORSHIPPED FOR YEARS, trying to just focus on the needs of his siblings... ugh

And then how it hits all of his insecurities with weakness, of being the one who rescues and protects others instead of needing the rescuing and protecting. Surviving near-certain-death twice only to end up stuck in an abusive apprenticeship. god how stupid must he have felt

(and when i say that i mean that with all the empathy and sympathy in the world, mind). anyway i'm rambling. i really love rolan. i really love how happy he is in the convo after defeating lorroakan, how he SMILES and seems so excited to finally have cal and lia LIVE WITH HIM

[talenlee]

Pitch: Development Issues

Pitch: Development Issues

You know for all that this blog is a space to put down my own creative work, it’s kind of shocking how ill-equipped it is to talk about things I can’t do. I do board games and card games and talk about RPGs and anime and media and a lot of being angry about fundamentalist christianity, but there are rare times when there’s other stuff that interests me as well. Remember that one time I presented some recipes? What about the occasional outbursts of flag threads?

Here’s something I don’t think I’d ever have the means to make, then: I’ve been thinking about web shows.

I mean specifically web shows in the mould of a short-form TV-imitative docudrama in the vein of The Office, and Arrested Development, maybe Parks and Recreation. I don’t know those shows very well, but I am familiar with the sort of short clip-form devolutions of it, the way that these series with perspectives and ideas and identities are degenerated down into small-form web videos. The fictional framing of these ideas is that it’s a documentary discussing some greater purpose, and what we see in those shows is like all the b-roll of every possible thing happening in the office.

I think that when you do cutaways to show events in the show, the things that people are reacting to you kind of diminish the value of these events, you break the bubble of the documentary conceit. Plus, it increases costs and scales up. What I’m thinking about is something that can be done in basically one room, which you shift around for different interviews, suggesting that you’re talking to a small crew of people, in single and group settings, in a few different meeting rooms. Everything you discuss needs to be discussed through these characters as narrators, and therefore, their perspectives, their delivery, their inflections.

And I have three basic ideas for different shows in this space, all following this basic structure.

The first one is inspired by this old edit I did of an Arrested Development joke inspired by Star Citizen.

It’s a frustrating joke because I realised well after it happened that the joke I wanted to tell is non-obvious. Because of course, the 2016 election happened in 2016, but then I had to contend with the way that, in America, the 2016 election started in 2014, and therefore, while what he’s saying is dumb, it’s not without some grounding. The point I was aiming for was an excuse that only kicks in when the project is already late.

Set the story in a game development studio where a small group of Q&A and documentation workers deal with the sorting algorithm of the workplace where they wind up discussing all the different ways in which the game industry is really weird. The whole thing told in a very steadycam, documentary style, but because there’s constant reallocation of people, the characters can rotate around in what their job titles are or what they’re doing and even the ways the project can keep going (or fail). In fact, if it’s a big business it can be as small as two people who are documenting the experience of working on two wildly different projects for one big company, and relating stories about how the characters they deal with are making that hard, all just quietly presenting extra-ridiculous versions of real stories from the industry.

I say this, but really I just want to make fun of Ken Levine and Peter Molyneaux, I think.

The other idea, the other much grimmer and darker idea, though, is the idea of doing this same kind of office documentary in the back rooms of a show like Infowars. That you have the people who don’t quite believe in the goals of this ridiculous idealogue, trying to grapple with explaining to themselves and one another just what they’re doing. Do they talk about their boss with incredulity? Is he serious? Is it all just performance? What about that time he got drunk and flirted with an alpaca on camera? How do we deal with the hatchets?

The idea for this though would be never actually showing the talent, and having the whole story told entirely through the reactions to the person. Dig into that same space of the ramshackle, confusing and entirely incestuous angle of storytelling, the way that these professional looking media frontends are entirely clueless, constantly making patches and kludges, and eventually, over time, driving everyone involved into the unfortunate combination of radical ideology and cynical emptiness.

Have it run twelve episodes. Episode twelve is what happens when the call screener (that they’re proud to claim they don’t use) calls in sick, and suddenly, with nobody to screen calls, they just get to hear their actual audience, calling up and saying the things they want to say… as the episode slowly collapses and shows horrified reaction shots from the characters we’ve been following. Then, the horror is multiplied as they listen to the talent they’ve been all along justifying reacts to the awful things they say as if it’s perfectly reasonable to just bop along with them.

and then they realise they have to get out, they have to quit.

I don’t think these are good ideas. I think these are interesting ideas, ideas that would need to be handled deftly to be both funny and horrifying, but also, to work without being just a magnification, an exacerbation and permission, for the things they’re meant to lampoon. I think they’re interesting, I think they’re fun to imagine, though, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of fodder could be made out of the interesting question of reasonable, sensible Q&A people talking to one another, candidly, about just how ridiculous their working conditions are.

For the Infowars style thing, yeah, it’d be an examination of how much conspiracies matter to being a conspiracy theorist. I kind of like the idea of it being entirely about looking at these systems and the emergent collaboration in response to incentives. Ie, how the world can work the way it does without conspiracy.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Making #Media

[theexistentiallyqueer]

It’s been a while, what with me being being more active on Twitter these days, but I had some thoughts churning around in my brain and this felt like a better place to post them rather than threading them over there.

This is a post about Persona 5 and restorative justice. Before I go any further, though, a note: this is meta about restorative justice and prison abolition as ethical philosophies only, how it can be expressed/structured in works of fiction, i.e., Persona 5 and Persona 5 Royal, and what the importance of doing so is.

I should also note that I am not a philosopher, a legal scholar, or an activist, I just like to read, and I strongly encourage you to look into the topics I’m discussing in this essay. If you want specific recommendations you can DM me; again, this being meta about a video game, I think linking those titles here would diminish their importance regarding what they’re actually about.

Ready? Okay. Let’s get started.

what is restorative justice?

‘Restorative justice’ is a concept in ethical and legal philosophy that holds itself in contrast to two other kinds of justice: punitive and carceral. Punitive justice is justice as punishment, i.e., an eye for an eye, while carceral justice involves justice as the confinement of criminal offenders. While both have heavy overlaps with one another, they’re distinct in the generality vs the specificity of their outcome: punitive justice can involve the death penalty, property seizure, permanent loss of rights, etc., carceral justice refers strictly just to the incarceration of criminal offenders in institutional facilities (jails, prisons, etc.).

Restorative justice, in contrast, roots itself in the understanding of closing a circle: the best and most holistic way to heal harm one person inflicts on another is to have the person who inflicted the harm make reparations to the person they hurt in a tangible and meaningful way. This can take many forms, and if you’re passingly familiar with restorative justice already, you may have heard about it involving the offender and the victim meeting face-to-face. This does happen sometimes. Personal acknowledgement of the harm you’ve inflicted on someone is important, and direct apologies are important, but these need to also be coupled with actions. The person behind a drunk hit-and-run of a parent could help put their orphaned child through school, or a domestic abuser could be made to take counseling and go on to help deter domestic violence in other households, and so on. 

The vast majority of states across the world use punitive/carceral models, though small-scale community trials of restorative justice have been attempted, to varying degrees of success. No one is going to argue that it would be easy to implement, but it is important. Restorative justice is about recognizing that crime, specifically crimes against other people, are fundamentally still about two people: the perpetrator and the victim. And we have to look beyond the words perpetrator and victim to recognize that they are both human beings and challenge ourselves to build a society where our concept of justice means healing hurts instead of retaliation.

It’s not easy, but it is possible. It requires changing your own perceptions of justice and humanity and society and the big wide entire world to have the kind of mindset that allows it to be possible. But it is possible, and I know that from personal experience, because it’s my own mindset and I’ve been through trauma too.

prison abolition and the god of control

Persona 5 has an authority problem. By which I mean, Persona 5 has a problem challenging authority in any way that functionally matters.

The game is drenched in heavy-handed prison imagery, from jail cells to wardens to striped jumpsuits to cuffs and chains to an electric chair. Throughout the long build-up of the main storyline we’re treated to a confectionery delight of punitive justice, stick-it-to-the-man justice: the Thieves find a bad guy who coincidentally has personally hurt or is actively hurting one of their members, and they take it upon themselves to make the bad guy miserable and then send him off to jail. By the end of the arc you’re meant to feel like you accomplished something heroic, that by locking someone up you’re balancing the scales of justice. In the Kamoshida arc Ann even frames this in restorative justice terms, telling him he doesn’t deserve the easy way out of ending his own life and needs to live with his mistakes and repent, but he’s still sent off to jail regardless and Ann and Shiho are left to struggle through the trauma he put them through without anyone to really support them. This repeats itself, over and over: Madarame, Kaneshiro, Okumura, Shido--expose the bad guy, bring him low, publicly shame him, and then send him away (or, in Okumura’s case, watch him die on live TV to riotous cheers from the public).

And what does this all accomplish, in the end? You get to the Depths of Mementos on Christmas Eve to find the souls of humanity locked away in apathy, surrendered willingly to the control of the state, and your targets right there with them, thanking you for helping them return to a place where they don’t have to think of other people as people any more than they did before. In prison, they can forget that they are human beings and that all of the rest of the people in the world are too. The Phantom Thieves march upstairs and defeat the Gnostic manifestation of social control, that being that masquerades itself with lies as the true Biblical god. And then you go back home and the adults tell you that everything is okay now, the system itself isn’t rotten, and you just have to sit back, stop actively participating in the world, and let them take the reins.

It’s one of Persona 5′s most ironic conceits. “Prison abolition....good?” the player asks, and Atlus swats you on the hand and says, “Silly kids, prison abolition completely unnecessary because you can trust the state to not fuck up anyone’s lives anymore ever.” All while using prison imagery to present prisons as institutions inherently divorced from what might constitute actual justice.

Prisons exist because hierarchies exist, and so long as hierarchies exist, inequality will exist and people will commit harm who otherwise likely would not. But you can’t have your cake and eat it too, Atlus. You can’t frame prisons as an inherently unjust institution used to control people because you didn’t do anything to get rid of the hierarchy. You just gave the hydra a few new heads.

restorative justice and rehabilitation

Rehabilitation is Persona 5′s favorite buzz word, and for all that it’s used the game never really clearly defines what it’s supposed to mean. Yaldabaoth uses it as a euphemism to describe the process by which he creates his ideal puppet, but Yaldabaoth bad, and by the end of the game, Yaldabaoth dead. We get barely any time with Igor after that for Igor to define rehabilitation properly on his terms, which is notable in that Igor is the one who’s supposed to be the spiritual mentor of the wild card within the Persona universe. 

We can only infer from that that it’s the player who’s meant to define what rehabilitation is by the end of the game, but because the game fails to take any concrete stance on its themes that could in any way undermine the idea that society isn’t functionally broken, it’s hard to figure out what conclusion we’re supposed to draw. As I stated above, the game immediately walks back any insinuations that it’s the institutions themselves that are rotten by having Sae and Sojiro step in and assume responsibility for making the world just by continuing to operate within the rules society itself has created. If you can’t beat them....join them?

If anything the closest we can get to coming up with a definitive understanding of what the game wants us to understand rehabilitation as is when the protagonist is in juvie. During those months we’re treated to an extended cutscene of all of your maxed out confidants taking action to get you out of jail, but because you can trigger this scene even if you haven’t maxed out all of your confidants, and because the outcome (getting out of juvie) is the same even if you haven’t maxed out any besides Sae, then we’re right back where we started.

But that cutscene still has a sliver of meaning to it despite it being largely window-dressing, because the game does push, over and over, the argument that it’s through your bonds with others, through building a community, that you’ll rehabilitate yourself and find true justice.

And that’s what restorative justice is about: community.

the truth: uncovering it vs deciding it

I can’t find enough words to convey how infuriating it is that Atlus comes so close to telling a restorative justice narrative and then completely drops the ball on displaying it at all in Goro’s character arc.

Goro’s concept of justice is fundamentally punitive, the textbook “you hurt me so I’m going to hurt you back.” In doing so he goes on to hurt a whole bunch of other people: orphaning Futaba, orphaning Haru, triggering a mental shutdown in Ohya’s partner Kayo, and also killing countless millions other instances of mental shutdowns, psychotic breakdowns, bribery, and scandal that caused people material harm and, in a handful of cases, killed them.

Yes, Shido gave him the gun, but Goro pulled the trigger. And in a restorative justice framework, you don’t bypass that fact: you actively interrogate it.

There’s been a lot of really great meta about what the circumstances of Goro’s life were like, including the Japanese foster care system, the social stigma of bastardy in Japan and the impact it has on an illegitimate child’s outcomes, and the ways in which Shido groomed and manipulated Goro into being the tool of violence he made him into. These things aren’t excuses for what Goro does, however: they’re explanations for it. They are the complex social issues that create a situation where a child feels his best choice, indeed maybe his only choice, is to take the gun being offered to him and use it on other people. If you want to prevent more kids from slipping through cracks into those kinds of situations, you need to understand the social ills that made those cracks appear in the first place and you need to fix them. Otherwise there will always be another kid, and another recruiter, and another bad choice, and another gun. Systemic problems require systemic solutions.

Even so, none of that bypasses the fact that it was Goro’s hand on that gun, that it was Goro who performed the physical action of killing Wakaba’s and Okumura’s shadows, and that, as a result of Goro’s direct actions, Wakaba and Okumura died. You can say Okumura deserved it all you like, but Haru doesn’t deserve to be an orphan. Haru deserved to repair her relationship with her father. Okumura deserved the chance to learn and make direct, material amends to the employees he hurt and the families of those who died on his watch, and they deserved to have him give them a better way to heal.

But this isn’t about the loss of Okumura making amends to his family or his victims: this is about Goro Akechi, and the fact that even in Royal his fraught relationship with Haru and Futaba is never explored, barely even addressed. There’s not even any personal, direct acknowledgement from him of the pain he put them through.

You can say he doesn’t care, and that’s fine that he doesn’t care. And it is. He’s a fictional character, this is a video game, they are anime characters.

But Persona 5 flirts with the idea of restorative justice and never fully explores it, and it’s a weaker game for that.

the thin place, the veil between worlds, the line in the sand

This is the last part, I promise, and I’ll be short and brief here, because the truth is that none of this matters, at least not in the way that you think. Persona 5 is a story. It’s a lie that we buy. It’s all zeroes and ones and electrical signals and optical images on a blank black screen.

But art can be powerful. Art is like magic, the deepest magic, the oldest kind. We human beings are creatures of art and poetry, of images and patterns, of music and words. Good art, really good art, can allow us to explore new ideas and critique our internal assumptions about how the world works.

No, fiction doesn’t affect reality, not the way that you think it does.

But if you’ve gotten this far, I just got you to read an essay on restorative justice and prison abolition in regards to a Japanese role-playing game, and that is something to think about.

How do you define rehabilitation? What kind of justice do you believe in? Is the way you conceive those things really the best way?

And how much more interesting could a story that challenges those concepts be?

[fanofknives]

Denied of respite and obviously pissed about it, finding a bit of comfort in this realm was, thankfully, easier than the last. Despite the ordeal of ending up right back where she started, at least it was all vaguely familiar. Bare feet found their purpose again slowly, recovering from years without truly existing, as far as one could tell, the idea of walking again seemed herculean, a struggle cut short by lacking decency in the middle of the woods. 

Tripping led to stumbling, led to rushing from tree to fence to lamp post, led to ungainly strutting right through the ruined promenade of Silvermoon’s western expanse at half a jog once she remembered how unruly and burdensome a prison of flesh could be. Right up until the arms of a stranger supported her own in a forward tumble. The birds, condemnable harbingers, scattered away from the catastrophe, startled by the sound and the curses that flew in the same breath. 

“Fuck, back off, I’ll fuckin--”  Frightening as the words were, hoarse, rasped and hissed, they posed no threat from a skeletal frame lost of its attire and Sin’dorei mannerisms. Conceited was not the first sensation felt under the return of basking sun rays. Nor did Lethel sense pride within. 

Met with a sound of concern, loyal blue eyes leveled upon limpid golden ones, revealing sympathy for a blood-smeared and dirt-scraped body. “Are you drunk, miss?” He barely managed to inquire before she was trying again to find balance upon two feet, at a distance from outstretched arms.

“Ah,” she croaked, “I might seem it, ɟʌɔʞ ʞndxʇ xǝ ɐ11 are--” Ah, she realized. The speech of the dead. 

“Pardon?” He turned to her, curious. It took time for Lethel to process the elf, surveying the risk of uttering words with a hard stare of assessment, taking in the white robes, their lynx-fur shoulders and sleeves intricately adorned with gold filigree, crimson rivers threading the details into place in winding twists. Clean, untouched by war, by peril, as pristine as Silvermoon’s pillars, preserved through it all, it was a strange first sight, out of the Shadowlands. His stature did not quite align; looming, yet tepid in some way, a struck animal with a regal upbringing knowing his sharp teeth but fearing whom he bared them to. Trustworthy enough, she decided in a matter of moments, for what she deduced to be a war priest. “May I offer you a drink of water, and some, ahem, attire? You are sullying the scenery.” He moved on with ease and veiled concern.

The suggestion, as offered down the length of his nose as it was, restored an aspect of sensibility to the once-incorporeal; it breathed into bones and skin a reminder of what it was to be alive and to endure others, just as living as she, as self-preserving, as judgmental. Disjointed nods followed the suggestion, succumbing to the image of a drunkard briefly. “Yes, yes, I would appreciate that. The clothes.” Spoken with a careful articulation, she watched her words, regained her feel for existence among the living, and accepted, only seconds later, the offered cloak of the tall, Light-bearing elf. 

“Are you unwell, or in need of something else?” As serene as his existence, his words no longer carried an air of insult, once she was beneath the protective cover of cloth and fur, now truly exposing his Good Samaritan concern for her and an ounce of regained security.

A harried expression met the cobblestone walkway, searching over cracks in consideration as she spoke. “Recovering. I have what I need, I just need to… To find it. An escort to my home, please, dove?” Familiar ticks fell into place the more existence weighed upon cloth-concealed shoulders. 

It was all still there. Just muddled, lost in the fog of the afterlife and surfacing piece by piece. Resolve was the first to take hold within her, then anger, though it had no source, yet. It festered and required suppression, if only to keep civil the conversation at hand, for now. Guided by his arm, his agreement to assist was silent but sure, and she took it eagerly, if only to have two additional legs to walk on while she re-learned the act. This would be fine, at least for a while.

“Say, what day is today?” Lethel inquired softly, without eye contact.

[clumsybookworm18]

Night Triumphant and the Stars Eternal | pt. 1

Read on ao3

Summary: As a High Lord’s daughter, Sam was always expected to have an arranged marriage. All her life she's been a dreamer locked in a golden cage, the important choices of her life snatched from her. Everything changes when the High Lord of the Night Court makes her an offer she can’t refuse.

AKA the self indulgent ACOTAR AU nobody asked for.

A/N: I'm a bit stuck on my ghost story atm and this little plot bunny has been bouncing in my head for a while so I couldn't resist writing it. So this is what happened when I decided to mix the UD kids with SJMass awesome universe! Honestly, I just wanted to see Sam as a fae princess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you haven't read the books it's fine, basically Prythian is a Fae Continent divided by 7 Courts: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day and Night. Each court is ruled by a High Lord.

This is an utter nightmare.

The princess of the Dawn Court’s cheeks twitched from the carefully placed smile she’d been holding all night. It had only been a few hours since this thing started but it felt like an eternity of standing and mingling. Beside her, her cousin Mike was talking to one of the attendants, killer smile on his face and a goblet of wine in hand, undoubtedly halfway drunk. Meanwhile, Sam had already drained hers, looking to alleviate the dullness of the party- calm the anxious feeling of what this night meant for her future. 

Mother above, she had met so many males tonight. High Lords, kings and princes from all over Prythian’s courts came bearing gifts and wealth. Sam couldn’t take it anymore. The way they were looking at her. Talking about her. She might as well have been a jewel inside a display glass, to be ogled and auctioned off. 

Well, that’s what her father is doing anyways. Selling her off like a broodmare. All for some stupid negotiations for his court.

A male with eager eyes and a conceited smile approached them, and asked her to dance. She was about to decline when Mike passed her hand over, distracted with the pretty female in front of him, no doubt his appointed conquest for the night. So much for helping her out tonight. 

Sam’s smile faltered as she was guided to the ballroom floor. As expected, her presence on the dance floor served to attract only more suitors, which was the exact thing she had been trying to avoid. She mentally cursed Mike as she was whisked away to another male’s arms. Then another, and another, until she finally had had enough and deliberately misstepped, causing her current partner to step on her toes. Politely dismissing his horrified apologies, Sam excused herself from the dance floor, pretending to limp a little as she walked away.

When she was sure no one was watching her, Sam managed to slip off from the ballroom unnoticed, willing herself not to break into a sprint. 

Arranged marriage.

She was still reeling from it all. The party, the introductions- it was all just a formality. Sam was sure the High Lord of the Dawn Court had already chosen the male she was to marry. Without even consulting it with her of course. She didn’t get a say in anything, not free to make her own choices. People always telling her what to do, where to go, how to dress. The most important decisions of her life were already decided for her.  It came with her position. She was just a princess. Something to be seen, not heard. 

Sam picked up her pace, the billowing skirt of her rose gold gown flowing behind her. Her footsteps echoed through the sunstone hallway as her feet guided her. She didn’t think about where she was going, allowing her instincts take over, steering her as if they were following a thread, a tug. Before she knew it, she was stepping into the upper east garden.

It was her favorite place in the palace. With a beautiful view that swept over the city down below to the beautiful countryside and luscious green forests surrounding it, giving her a taste of what went beyond the palace borders that she was rarely allowed to leave. The terrace was so high that sometimes she felt that if she stuck her hand out she could touch the enormous clouds that drifted in the sky.  It was the only place open enough to give her a sense of freedom. No walls, no windows, no doors- just herself and nature.

Sam sat by the fountain in the center of the garden, letting out a sigh as she dipped a hand into the sparkling water. She knew this day would come. An arranged marriage was an unavoidable fate for a princess. 

Her mother, coming from a similar position herself, had been preparing her for this since she was a child. Even though her parents were mates, they were still strangers when they wed. One day, while her father visited the Day Court, he saw her mother and the mating bond snapped into place. Her father had only taken one look at her, and instantly knew what she was. He’d asked the High Lord of Day for his daughter’s hand, and took her back to the Dawn Court and made her his bride. 

Honestly, Sam didn’t understand how her parent's souls were bound, they were so… different. How the Cauldron blessed the union between her cold, cunning father and her kind mother often made her wonder what it had in store for her.

“Who knows,” her mother had teased earlier while they stood in her dressing room. “Maybe you’ll be as lucky as me and meet your mate tonight.” Sam had scoffed. 

As if a mating bond would solve anything.

The princess looked up to the bright stars dotting the night sky. She has dreams. She wants to travel, explore, live. She wished to meet new people, make friends, fall in love, marry on her own terms. 

She didn’t want to be bound by duty. Didn’t want to marry some stranger and just be a trophy wife whose only purpose was to look pretty and punch out heirs. Pursing her lips, Sam slapped her hand into the fountain, sending splashes of water flying off. 

“Ridiculous,” she muttered. “All of it.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” said a deep voice behind her.

She stood abruptly, eyes widening at the sight before her.

Hugged by the shadows stood a male figure, casually leaning against one of the pillars. His dark hair gleamed under the moonlight, bringing out his golden skin and grey eyes. She had never met him before- had only caught a few brief glimpses of him when he had previously visited her court. But she knew exactly who he was. 

Joshua Washington. High Lord of the Night Court. Ruler of the Court of Nightmares.

He crept closer, stepping into the soft glow of the terrace lights, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement as he regarded her. She didn’t miss the tendrils of darkness rippling from him, enveloping him. It was as if he was molded by the night itself. Death incarnate. 

She’d heard so many things about his court. About his powers. About him. Whispers and tales of the horrible things they did to others. How he could get into peoples heads, invade their thoughts and shatter their minds without even lifting a finger. 

Sam didn’t move from where she stood as he approached her, didn’t want to give him the idea that he intimidated her. She met his gaze as he came to stand in front of her, hands sliding into the pockets of his black tunic, the night seeming to press closer around him. She waited for the fear to hit her, for her instincts to yell at her to run. But she didn’t feel any of that. 

“What’s the princess doing away from her party?” he purred, his velvety voice sending shivers down her body.

“Am I not allowed to have a moment to breathe?” she retorted, sounding slightly brittle. Her parents already controlled everything she did, she didn’t need a stranger doing the same. Not even if he was a High Lord.

He merely lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug- a beautiful, easy gesture. He didn’t step back.

Sam tried not to let it bother her. “Are you enjoying the party, my lord?” 

“Not as much as everyone else I’m sure.” he said, laughing under his breath. “This type of events aren’t something I usually indulge in.”

“Why are you here, then?” she blurted out. Her mother would scold her if she knew how informal her daughter was being, specially with a High Lord of all people. 

The Lord of Night didn’t seem to mind. Instead he smirked, his eyes traveling across her face and body, not unlike a predator sizing up his prey. “I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said stepping closer, the thread of gold embroidered in the edges of his tunic glittering in a way that made her think of twinkling stars. He gave no warning as he lifted his hand, gently taking her chin in it. “I see the rumors weren’t exaggerating. You’re exquisite.” 

The princess’s face yielded nothing but knew the flush that crept to her cheeks betrayed her. She moved her face away and retreated a step, bothered by the gesture- the intimacy of it. At the way it stirred up something inside her, awoke her. His touch calling out a primal side of her she didn’t even know that was there to begin with. 

A beautiful smile curved his lips and- Cauldron boil her, she had never seen anyone so handsome. Never had so many warning bells going off in her head because of it. 

She pushed the thought away, reminding herself who and what stood in front of her and straightened her back. Her mouth curved into a bitter smile. “A real prize too, you know, being the daughter of a High Lord. A fine bride for any lord to marry.” 

He gave her a sly smile in return. “That’s not what I meant."

“Then why did you follow me out here?” A wild guess, but Sam was fairly certain that nobody had been in the terrace the moment she stepped foot in it.

“So many questions for a princess,” he teased, not denying her statement. Sam frowned but kept staring at him, waiting for his answer. Joshua smirked, his eyes gleaming in a manner that suggested she wasn’t going to like his answer. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

She couldn’t help the bitterness that coiled in her stomach. Of course. For what other purpose would he be here? He hadn’t given her any indication to think he was different from every other male that had come to this wretched ball. They were all just the same, self absorbed, pompous tools-

“Spare me the accusatory glare, I am not here for your father’s pissing contest,” he drawled, adjusting the cuffs of his black tunic. Then laughed under his breath. “As much as he’d appreciate that I’m sure.”

The princess crossed her arms over the bodice of her gown, growing tired of his games. “Then why come at all?”

“I’m here to offer you a deal.” 

“You want to bargain?” 

He slid his hands into his pockets and started circling her. The tendrils of smoky night that rippled from him following in his wake. “I can get you out of here. Help you escape an arranged marriage we both know you don’t want.” 

Wariness instantly flooded through her. She may not get out much but she wasn’t a fool to think these types of offers didn’t come with a price. Growing around the ruthless faeries that lived in her court had taught her that much. “And what would your help cost me?”

He stopped his circling, those lethal eyes pinning her where she stood. “Your freedom in exchange for you. I want you to come live with me at the Night Court.”

Sam’s blood chilled, her thoughts racing to all the terrible things she’d heard about that place. The atrocities she’d read about it in history books. 

He wanted to take her to the Night Court. To his Court of Nightmares. A place full of depravity and torture and death. 

“Why?” she asked, trying to keep her tone cool and collected. A futile effort, as she knew he could hear the wild pounding of her heart. “What could you possibly want from me?” 

Joshua clicked his tongue. “If I told you those things, there’d be no fun in it, now would it?” he crooned, mischief twinkling in his grey eyes. 

Sam wasn’t sure she wanted to know what constituted as fun for him. 

“You would risk going to war with my father?” As far as she knew, the Dawn Court had always been on neutral terms with the Night Court. Their alliance may not be as strong as it was with their neighbors of the Day Court but seeing as it was one the Solar Courts, it was friendly enough. Any bargain she made with him would ensure that neutrality to be lost. 

His face was a mask of boredom as he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Leave the Lord of Dawn to me,” he said in a nonchalant manner that didn’t answered any of her questions nor calm her nerves. “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re being such a worrywart. He clearly doesn’t care enough about you if he selling you off like a broodmare.” 

Sam stiffened- the bluntness of his words might as well have been a slap in the face. It was one thing if she acknowledged it herself but hearing it from someone else… Even if it was true, it still stung. 

She gave him a hard look. “No.”

“No?” he echoed, the air around him darkening. “Really?”

The princess only lifted her chin, her stubborn nature not allowing her to break his stare. 

“You would refuse my offer- probably your only shot at freedom, and for what? To stay here? Because you don’t want to live at the nefarious Night Court?” A cold smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Samantha, but after tonight you’re still going to be sent off to another court. So the way I see it you have two options.” He raised a dark brow, staring hard at her. “The first and the smartest would be to accept my offer. The second would be for you to refuse and keep living bound to the choices of others.” When she didn’t answer, he went on, “It’s your choice.”

She bit her lip. He was right, her options were limited. Still, that didn’t take out the possibility that he could be trying to trick her, make her fall into a trap. She wouldn’t deny his offer sounded reasonable… tempting even. But he hadn’t given any motives for her to trust him. Not yet. “Why are you helping me?”

Joshua shrugged, his mouth curving into a wicked grin. “Who says I’m not helping myself?”

Sam studied his profile. Her gaze traveling to his straight nose, his scheming smile, the sharp angles of his jaw. Trying to understand what game he was playing. Decipher what lurked beneath that mischievous gaze.

He stalked closer, his face close enough now for her to notice the flecks of green in his eyes. She took a sharp breath as he brushed a blonde curl that had freed itself from her coiffed hair- at the feel of his fingers trailing down her cheek, her neck. A whisper of claws caressing her throat. She should probably comment on the boldness of his touch, for laying his hands on a princess like this but words failed her. 

The High Lord stared at her for a moment, his face unreadable, before yielding a step. “I leave first thing tomorrow morning,” he said as his golden skin started to turn into living shadow. “You have until then to make your decision.”

And then he vanished.

��***

The rest of the party went by in a flash. The ballroom a blur full of waltzing aristocrats, of wine and toasts made in her honor. Sam mingled, trying to blend in just so she could ignore the grey eyes that she knew were watching her every movement, burning through her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t avoid the swaggering bachelors from approaching her, saccharine smiles on their faces as they invited her over to the dance floor. But she managed to ward off some of them by keeping a dull, flat expression on her face.

Joshua, however, didn’t approach her once. 

Right before midnight, her father had announced that she was to marry the High Lord of the Spring Court. Sam felt her breath get knocked out of her as the world slipped from under her feet. Her stomach tightening into painful knots at the crowd’s clapping. 

No, no, no-

There were so many eyes, too many eyes watching as her father grabbed her hand, coaxing her towards her newly appointed fiancé. He handed her over like she the prize was, as if he was giving a toy to an excited child. Sam arranged her face into a mask of cold but inwardly she felt a wave of hot fury settle over her at her father's disregard, as if he didn’t just crushed her dreams. 

Everything was happening so fast. Too fast. 

The Lord of the Spring offered her his arm, his lips tightening when she retreated a step. The crowd murmured. 

If she turned away now they’d start talking. 

Sam willed herself to extend her arm, and he linked their elbows as he turned them to the guests, her bland expression contrasting with the eagerness in his face. It took everything in her power to not rip her arm from him and run away. 

This was to be her life. Trapped in a marriage she never wanted. Shackled to a male she did not love, that wasn’t even her mate. Forever.

 Tears brimmed in her eyes as reality shattered through her. Her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, her inner hysteria intensifying at the feeling of being cornered by the myriad of eyes pressing on her. The crowd’s faces blurred as more tears welled. She was going to fall apart right then and there. In front of everyone.

Don’t let them see you cry.

Sam blinked. Through the blood pounding in her ears, she heard his voice that made her stop short. The words echoed in her mind. 

Concentrate on your breathing. Stay focused.

She took in a deep breathe through her nose, and slowly exhaled. In, out, in, out-

Good girl, Joshua said in her head. Now look forward. Keep your chin high. No tears. Wait until you're back in your room. 

She slowly relaxed as she listened to him, the sound of his voice grounding her, his words holding her together as the High Lord of the Spring Court- her fiancé-  escorted her around the room.  

The bride of spring surveyed the crowd, searching for a pair of lethal eyes hidden in shadows. Eyes she had felt upon her all night. She found Joshua watching her, standing in the back of the room with his hands into his pockets. His face was a cool mask of indifference, night still rippling off him. 

Sam pulled her eyes away and didn’t look at him for the rest of the night.

 ***

After the ball, while she sat in front of her vanity, Sam watched Ashley pull off the pins that held her hair in the elegant twist that had been styled in. Their eyes met through the mirror, and Sam gave her handmaiden and closest friend a watery smile. 

Ashley frowned. “I know you’re upset. You don’t have to hide it, not around me.” 

“I’m fine.” she said. 

Her friend plucked one last pin, letting the blonde tresses fall down her back.  Ashley rubbed her shoulders in a comforting way and lowered her face, pressing it to the side of Sam’s head- the red of her hair striking against the princess’s fair one. “No, you’re not.”

Sam bit her lip. “There has to be something I can do.”

“A handsome High Lord wants to marry you,” Ashley crooned. “Oh the horror.”

“It’s not just that I don’t want to marry. It’s that I hate being forced into this.” Sam stood and walked over to the window. It was still dark out, the stars sparkling. A pair of mischievous grey eyes flashed through her mind. She sighed and looked away. “My parents just handed me over to a stranger like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.” 

Ashley’s eyes softened. “Your parents just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Only half of that was true. 

“And I want more out of life than to be just a High Lord’s wife.”

“You could do a lot worse than the High Lord of the Spring Court. Mother above, have you seen those luscious golden curls of his,” Ashley said, awe in her eyes. “He looks like a cherub.”

Sam snorted but didn’t say anything else, deciding to let the subject drop. Ashley’s intentions were good but she didn’t understand. She turned to the window again, her thoughts drifting to another certain High Lord. 

As if she could sense her distress, Ashley said, “I’ll go draw a bath.” 

“You know me too well.” she said, giving her handmaiden a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

Later, while she sat in the bath, Sam couldn’t help but think about her strange encounter with Joshua. Couldn’t stop thinking about his offer.

He was right. He was right and she hated it. Whether she wants it or not, she was still leaving tomorrow, let it be with him or her newly appointed fiancé. She had to choose. Had to decide between Night or Spring. Both so different, yet each the root of her distress. 

It’s your choice, Joshua had told her earlier.

Isn’t that what she wanted? For her to have the freedom to choose? To decide over her future? Sure, she may not like the idea of living at the Night Court but at least it would be her choice. 

Sam stayed on the tub long enough that the bath had gone cold. She knew what she had to do.

 ***

Dawn was upon the horizon, the sky turning into a canvas of spilled oranges, pinks and purples. The golden rays of the sun slowly peeked out from behind the mountains, driving away the shadows covering the lands of her court. Sam took in a deep breath, her nostrils filling with the fresh morning air. 

A wave of nostalgia spread through her. She wasn’t even gone and she was already missing this place. She remembered when Mike, Ashley and her used to sneak out as younglings and watch the sunrise, when their childish ignorance was bigger than obligations, ranks and mindless court games. 

A pang went through her heart at the thought of her friends. She was leaving them without saying goodbye, without giving them an explanation. She could imagine the hurt in their eyes when they realized what she’d done. It was for the best if they didn’t know. 

From what Mike had told her, his relationship with the High Lord wasn’t exactly friendly. Sam knew Mike cared about her, that he was a good friend but he would’ve tried to make her to stay, wouldn’t understand why she needed to leave. Ash, on the other hand… her dear friend would have supported her decision, even if she didn’t completely  understand Sam’s choice. Which is why she couldn’t tell her. If her parents caught even a whiff that Ashley knew what their daughter was planning on doing… Sam shuddered.

Leaving without saying anything was the best. 

By the time anyone in the palace noticed her absence, she would be far, far away from here. Her parents would be scandalized but she didn’t care. No one was going to be her master.

The High Lord was already waiting for her. He was leaning against the railing, his back to her as he watched the rising sun. Tendrils of darkness leaking from him like ink in water.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to her. The gold thread of his black tunic shining under faint rays of the sun.

Sam simply nodded. 

His face turned deadly serious, the intensity of his eyes making her want to look away, but she held his stare. “If you come with me, there’s no going back. You can’t speak to anyone who doesn’t belong to my court about what you see. Not to your family, not to your friends. Because if you do the consequences will be grave. If you come, you’ll have to lie about it forever. If you ever decide to return here, you cannot tell a soul about what you see, who you meet, what you will witness. So if you’d rather not live with that, then stay here and live out the life your parents have chosen for you.” 

Sam pondered his words. To stay here, stay locked up in her golden cage… she couldn’t bear it, couldn’t endure to live shackled to a life she didn’t want- to see her soul turn into a hollow shell of sorrow and remorse. “Take me with you,” she breathed. “I won’t tell anyone about what I see. I swear.” 

Joshua studied her for a moment longer before extending his arm towards her. With a wicked grin, he said, “Then it’s a bargain.”

The princess stepped forward, hesitantly placing her hand in his. She gasped the sudden tingling sensation that hit her. Swirls of blank ink appeared on her forearm and hand, filling her skin with intricate patterns of whirls and stars. Letting go of his hand, she inspected her arm, turning it over. Staring back at her was a large slitted eye tattooed right in the center of her palm and she could've sworn it blinked back at her.

“As you might already know, it’s a custom in my court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh,” he said as she rubbed her arm.

Right. She’d forgotten about that.

Darkness cleaved the space in front of them, it’s black winds roaring. The Lord of Night let out a chuckle as Sam clung to him, the wind tearing at her, the shadows caressing her, trying to pull her in. He slipped a hand around her waist, pressing her to him. She felt his warm breath as the deep voice whispered in her ear, “Hold on.” 

The princess of the Dawn Court didn’t look back as the High Lord guided her into the shadows, darkness swallowing them whole.

[aperfectsummerrae]

Drunk and Conceited

INVOLVED: Summer Sanders and Ellie Rose (with an appearance by Wynter Sanders) TIME FRAME: Saturday, May 16 into May 17, 2020 LOCATION: Sanders-Rose Home; Los angeles, California SUMMARY: Summer comes into the house, stumbling and drunk off her ass, with the help of Jasmine. The two accidentally wake Ellie and pissing Ellie off for various reasons. The events of the previous night roll over into the next day, causing a bit of tension between Summer and Ellie.

Summer giggled like mad as she stumbled up the walkway, gripping into Jasmine tightly. “Shh,” she said as she stepped heavily in her thigh high heeled boots. “Don’t wake ‘em up,” she said loudly, though she thought she was whispering.

Jasmine pursed her lips as she moved with Summer up her walkway, dragging her along. She rolled her eyes at her friend as she moved towards the door. “Hush,” she said as she opened Summer’s clutch and pulled out the woman’s keys. “You’re drunk,” she said as she balanced holding Summer and getting the door open.

Summer closed her eyes as they reached the door and she leaned, laying her head against Jasmine’s shoulder. “I am not,” she hiccupped, opening her eyes, but they were very low and heavy.

“Girl, shut up,” Jasmine said as she opened the door and moved Summer into the house, trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake anyone up. She walked with Summer over to the couch, laying the drunk woman down on it. “There you’re home safely,” she said, more or less to herself.

Ellie laid in bed fast asleep; she shifted beneath the covers rolling over as she stretched out across the large bed. She snuggled up against her pillows, hearing the front door chime, and she slowly opened her eyes. She shifted turning on her stomach as she looked at the time on the clock before she rolled her eyes a bit. Pushing herself up on her hands, she pushed loose locs out of her face as she raised up slowly rubbing her eyes in the dark. She slid from the bed, padding through the room she grabbed her robe and slid into her slippers, tying the robe close. She walked out the room, down their stairs, and towards the noise. Seeing Jasmine and an intoxicated Summer, she folded her arms, “good night?” she asked Jasmine no less.

Summer laid out on the couch, her short dress rising as she stretched her long body out, her shoes on the couch as well. “Shhh,” she hushed Jasmine again, “she has bionic ears,” she slurred in a loud whisper as she scrubbed her hand down her face drunkenly before she heard Ellie’s voice in the dark and she said, “told you…” as she rolled over, nuzzling her body into the couch cushions.

Jasmine placed Summer’s clutch on the coffee table, along with the woman’s house and car keys. Hearing Ellie behind her, she pursed her lips, glaring at Summer before she turned. Looking at Ellie, Jasmine nodded with a forced smile. “Yeah…” she said, “Summer just had a few too many shots of Tequila,” she told Ellie easily before she began to back away, “I was just making sure she got home okay; her cars in the driveway,” she said as she began to back away, pointing towards the door, “got to go, Taylor is waiting on me…” she said quickly.

Ellie looked at Jasmine taking her in and she nodded her head before she looked at Summer. “Thanks,” she told the woman whom she didn’t quite have a feel for as of yet. She followed behind her to make sure she locked the door and activated the alarm when she let her out. “Next time, if need be, you can call me,” Ellie said holding the door for Jasmine to walk out of.

Jasmine moved for the door, tugging her tight dress down her thighs a bit as she did. “It’s no problem. I’ve been lugging her home since high school,” she said with a slight shrug. Stepping out the door, Jasmine eyed Ellie and she nodded, “got it,” she said easily, knowing that she probably never would call Ellie. Summer got so drunk tonight because of Ellie, there was no way she was calling her. Who knows what Summer might say at peak drunkenness. “You have a good night,” she said as she made her way to Taylor’s car, who was waiting at the curb to take her home since Summer had picked her up.

Summer let out a drunken snore as she laid face first on the couch, her makeup smudging and smearing against the material.

Ellie looked at Jasmine, nodding her head and she said again, “thank you,” to her as she left out of the home. She watched her as she moved down the walkway and she closed the door behind her, rolling her eyes gently at the thought of the brown skin girl. She locked the door and set the alarm in the home before she turned. She moved towards Summer and saw her laid out on their couch, she huffed. “Summer,” she said chastising the woman without thought. “Really?” she asked her as she unzipped her boots and tugged them off, checking the couch for any possible stains from her shoes. She dropped them to the ground before she moved closer to the woman, seeing her smearing her makeup covered face on the couch and she growled lowly. She wanted to smack the fuck out of her as she sat down on the coffee table before her taking her in. “You don’t have an off button,” she spoke quietly more so to herself than anyone else. “This is what I have to deal with,” she said as she tilted her head, she cracked her neck with her hand inhaling deeply.

Summer grunted softly as Ellie said her name and she shifted on the couch, bending one leg at the knee as she adjusted her body. Feeling Ellie pull off her boots, she let out a sigh of relief in her sleep state. Her feet had been killing her from dancing all night long. As per usual, the Gala started off very classy and collected as people mingled, spoke about their talents, donated money, and everything else. However, by about 10PM, all of the class went out the window as the bartenders began getting heavy handed with the drinks. “Hmm?” she mumbled softly, turning her body to face Ellie as she reached her hand out, placing it on Ellie’s knee, trying to pull the woman close to her.

Ellie took Summer in as she moved her hand to her knee. “My big ass won’t fit on there with you, either come to bed, girl, or you down here on your own tonight,” she breathed out to the woman in a tone that wouldn’t cause her any discomfort. “You ruined my couch,” she breathed as she moved to stand up from the table, resting her hand on her hips with a shake of her head.

Summer groaned out at Ellie’s words and she opened her eyes slowly, they were low in the darkness as she whined slightly. “Ellie,” she murmured dramatically as she moved to stand up. Summer continued to reach for her, grabbing at the air now as she huffed. Pushing against the couch now, she pulled herself up slowly, her long hair in her face slightly, despite her high ponytail. Standing up slowly, she stumbled slightly.

“Come on,” Ellie said as she watched her get up on her own, she was a grown woman and she had caused this upon herself after all. She watched her stand and she sighed, part of her would always want to help her in any way she could so she grabbed her hand and began to lead her towards their bedroom.

Summer leaned against Ellie as the woman took her hand and she wrapped her arm around Ellie’s frame. Her feet moved slowly and she tripped over them a few times as Ellie led the way. Shrinking her body some, Summer rested her head against Ellie’s shoulder as they climbed the steps, one by one.

Ellie looked at Summer and she dropped her hand wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist as they moved through the large house. She flicked a light on for Summer’s sake as they moved up the steps to their bedroom. One by one they moved until they reached the top and she turned the light off moving for their room. Once inside she closed the door and moved to sit Summer down on the bed gently. “Here let me take this off of you,” she told the woman as she reached around to unzip the dress on the woman’s body, so that she could take it off and change into something else for the night.

Summer squinted, her eyes burning as Ellie turned on the light, and she groaned. Allowing Ellie to lead her into the bedroom, Summer sat down on the bed, her head spinning. Looking at Ellie, Summer lifted her arms up, so that Ellie could take the dress off of her body. Blinking slowly, Summer giggled and said, “and don’t try s-s-seduce me either,” her words slurred.

Ellie looked at Summer, hearing her words, she rolled her eyes so hard at the woman and shook her head. “I should be telling you that,” she said, eyes flashing at her. She tugged the dress up over the woman’s head and placed it at the end of the bed before she moved to grab Summer a t-shirt. She walked back over and pulled it down over her head, pushing her hair back before she held it open for Summer to put her arms through.

Summer snorted softly, laughing a bit as Ellie tugged the dress over her head. With it off, she let out a sigh of relief as she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, feeling much better and free. As Ellie returned to her with a t-shirt, she smiled crookedly as she pushed her arms through the holes. “You’re so good to me,” she murmured once the shirt was on and she wrapped her arms around Ellie’s waist, laying her head on Ellie’s stomach.

Ellie looked at Summer as she wrapped her up and she said, “you are good to me too baby,” as she patted her back a bit. “I need to get you some aspirin,” she told her softly. She separated them both as she moved to grab her some tablets from the bathroom, when she left there, she moved towards the door moving back downstairs after she glanced at Summer. She moved to the kitchen trying to navigate the new home in the dark, so that she would get her a bottle of water.

Summer smiled softly, nodding her head at Ellie a bit until the woman pulled away from her. “Mhmmm,” she hummed as she sat there. Slowly she began to lay back and she curled her long body up against the bed as Ellie moved downstairs. With a hum, Summer sat up slowly and began to pull her high ponytail down, relieving the stress against her scalp. She tossed the hair tie aside and moaned as she massaged her head with her fingers as she stood up. She walked over to their fireplace and began to fiddle with it, turning it on before she stumbled back over to the bed, laying down face first.

Ellie opened the fridge and grabbed a Fiji water bottle before she moved back through the house in the dark and moved for the steps. She used her hands to navigate herself before she moved for the bedroom and she noticed the fireplace on causing her to sigh again. It wasn’t that cold in the home, however, she moved to Summer as the woman laid face down. “Summer,” she said as she placed the water bottle off to the side, turning to look at her. “For the love of God,” she said harshly as she moved to their bathroom for a makeup remover wipe. “I am going to fucking kill her,” she said to herself as she grabbed one and moved back into the room.

Summer laid against the covers, her face buried in them as she let out a deep, rumbling, drunken snore. Her legs hung off the bed slightly as she laid there, looking almost like a chalk outline. As Ellie spoke out, Summer rubbed her face against the covers slightly, shifting her body.

Ellie looked at Summer and she sat the tablets on the nightstand along with the pack of wipes. “Summer, please get up. You are getting makeup everywhere, Jesus Christ,” she said desperately tired now, it was three in the morning and right now she truly didn’t have the time.

Summer heard Ellie and she groaned as she pulled herself up slowly, blinking hard as she stared at Ellie. “I’m sorry,” she said, whining slightly, as she poked her bottom lip out at Ellie. “You’re always mad at me,” she mumbled sadly as she dropped her eyes, looking down.

Ellie looked at Summer and she sighed at her, that wasn’t the case in her mind. She grabbed a wipe and moved for Summer, crawling up in the bed dropping her shoes off her feet as she did. She began to clean her face gently, she used the wipe to clear the debris as best as she could, the woman needed to wash her face, but she knew better. “I’m not,” she said as she cleaned what was left on her face with the woman's wipe and she licked her lips as she did. She moved to toss the wipe in the trash before she washed her hands clean in the bathroom, she dried them off. She grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water, getting a little unscented bar of soap and lathering it up before she moved to Summer. She cleaned her face a little more with the cloth with a heavy sigh.

Pouting, Summer grunted softly as Ellie began to clean her face and she closed her eyes, her arms wrapping around the woman once more as she sat there. As Ellie pulled away from her, she dropped her arms like dead weights about to lay back down when Ellie returned, wiping her face with a cloth towel. “Mmm,” she groaned.

Ellie got what was left on the surface of the woman’s face off and she sat the cloth aside as she offered her the pills and the bottle of water. “Here, take this and I’ll be back,” she said untwisting the cap and offering it to Summer, “be careful,” she added to her. After doing so she grabbed the cloth and the wipes moving back to the bathroom, she hung the cloth up and placed the wipes up where they went. She then turned the bathroom light off and took her robe off, draping it over a chair. She moved back over to the bed and Summer.

Summer grunted and groaned as Ellie wiped her face with the warm towel and when she was finally done, she let out a hiccup. Taking the tablets, she tossed them into her mouth before she sipped some of the water, swallowing them down. She leaned over, sitting the bottle on the nightstand before she crawled under the covers tiredly.

Ellie watched the girl get under the covers and she did the same in the silk teddy she had on. She sighed as she rolled onto her side, facing the bedroom door and she closed her eyes gently one more. Hopefully she’d be able to go back to sleep and get some decent rest considering.

As Ellie got under the covers with her, Summer turned and snuggled up to Ellie’s thick body, wrapping her arm around the woman tightly and pulling her close. She let out a small snore as she got comfortable.

<hr>

Summer groaned softly as she rolled over in the bed, pressing her hands into her eyes as she did. She had a mild headache and she was burning up. Huffing softly, she rolled in the bed once more, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. However, when she didn’t feel it, she peeled her eyes open slowly, squinting at the empty space. “Where’s my phone,” she grumbled to herself.

Ellie scrubbed her skin clean under the warm water in their shower, she had planned on going to the shop today but she decided against it. She had an eternal alarm clock, so she was up right now but much rather been in bed. She ran the loofah over her skin humming to herself as she washed away all of the sweaty and sticky feeling she felt thanks to Summer and the damn fireplace throughout the night.

Summer sighed out and pulled herself from the bed, picking up the discarded t-shirt from the floor. She slid it on and groaned softly, placing her hand on her forehead. Blinking hard, she took a deep breath, murmuring to herself, “fucking tequila.” Dragging her feet, she rubbed her hand through her messy hair, massaging her scalp a bit as she moved out of the room and down the steps. She walked into the living room, picking up her clutch and pulling her phone out. She stood there in a t-shirt and her thong as she scrolled her phone, messy hair hiding her face a bit.

Ellie continued to bathe herself gently in the shower and when she was done, she turned it off and climbed out, towel wrapped around her body. She moved to pat herself dry a little bit and before she re-tied the towel and moved to the sink to finish her morning routine. She began brushing her teeth in the mirror, tucking a loose dread back up into the bun on her head as she allowed the electric toothbrush to work in her mouth.

Summer responded to a text message from Jasmine and another from Taylor, then a few of their donors asking questions about the studio before she tossed her phone on the couch and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank it down quickly, guzzling the cool liquid. She pulled the empty bottle from her lips and belched softly before she cleared her throat and tossed the bottle away. “Ugh,” she groaned at herself. She needed aspirin.

Ellie finished cleaning her teeth and then she started to clean her face thoroughly, she did her whole routine and when she was done, she untied her hair. She took the hair out of her bun and let it fall down her back before she moved to oil her body up with coconut oil gently sitting the towel aside as she did.

Summer drug herself back up the steps and she moved into the bedroom, then into the bathroom. Looking at Ellie, she walked past her for the cabinet. Opening it, Summer grabbed the bottle out and shook two aspirins into her hand before she popped them into her mouth. She placed the bottle back, then moved for the sink, turning it on. She cupped her hands under the water, letting it gather, before she drank from her hands swallowing the pills down. “Good morning,” she finally managed to get out.

Ellie massaged some more oil into her thighs and legs bending over slightly before she heard someone come into the bathroom, Summer scaring her as she did. She watched the girl for a moment before she said, “morning,” to her sweetly as she finished off the oil and closed the container before she slid her thong and bra on. She sprayed some aloe on her face before she sat it aside and put a little deodorant on in the mirror as well.

Summer blinked hard, rubbing her eyes a bit more as she tried to adjust to the lightning in the bathroom. “Sorry about last night,” she murmured, using her hand to flip her hair back and out of her face. “One too many shots of tequila,” she told Ellie, “and now I’m paying for it,” she groaned slightly, leaning against the counter.

Ellie looked at Summer and she nodded her head at her. “Yeah,” she said to her simply before she moved to rub some lip balm on her dry lips. “You’ll be okay,” she told her easily as she rubbed her lips together and she grabbed her robe pulling it on and tying it off. She styled the dreads, pulling them back with a hair tie before she moved to clean, putting the products back into the places she got them from in the bathroom.

Nodding slightly, Summer brushed her hair back once more. “What did you mean last night?” she questioned Ellie now. She was drunk as hell, but she remembered what happened.

Ellie looked at Summer and raised a brow, “about what?” she asked her confused she moved to hang her towel back up where she had gotten it from. She moved back to the sink and she spritzed a little body splash against her skin, it was her favorite scent right now.

Summer shifted on her bare feet, looking down at her toes as she wiggled them against the flooring. “You said something along the lines of, you don’t have an off button,” she said, lifting her gaze to look at Ellie. “What do you mean by that?”

Ellie looked at Summer and she rested her hands on her hips sighing. “Summer don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal,” she told her easily, brushing it off honestly. It just meant she didn’t stop and didn’t know when to stop and that could mean anything.

Summer listened to Ellie’s response and she nodded slowly as she let out a deep sigh before she said, “okay…” easily. She pulled her shirt over her head, dropping it to the floor, as she walked to the shower, she stepped out of her thong as well, kicking the material to the side. Stepping into the shower, she closed the glass behind her and turned on her side of the shower, letting the water run.

Ellie watched Summer and she licked her lips slowly with a sigh, she looked away from her before she walked out the bathroom and into their bedroom. Ellie moved for something to lounge in for the day, she’d have to take Wynter out later but for now she didn’t have much planned. She grabbed a pair of Nike Pro leggings and a Nike crop top before she sat down on their bed to lotion her feet. After she did, she slid her Gucci slides onto her feet before she got up and hung her robe where it belonged.

Summer moved under the water falling from the ceiling, letting it pour over her body. Tilting her head back, she let the water run through her hair as well. Letting out a deep sigh, she wiped her hand down her face and opened her eyes. Turning slightly, she grabbed her loofah and body wash and began to clean herself from head to toe, washing her hair and all. When she was finished, she rinsed her body and her hair clean of all soap and suds. Moving from under the water, she wrung her hair out and turned the water off. She twisted more water from her hair, before she released, letting the damp hair fall down her back. Sighing out, Summer called for her girlfriend, “Ellie…”

Ellie checked herself out in the mirror, boy did she have a fat ass on her, she thought to herself with a head shake. Hearing Summer, she looked back and said, “yeah” calling back out to her as she impulsively rubbed lotion into her hands, rubbing them together as she looked at her face in the mirror above their dresser.

“Can you bring me a towel,” Summer asked Ellie, groaning at her own loud voice a bit, though the shower did help ease some of her discomfort. She knew stepping out of the shower and dripping water all over the floor would only irritate Ellie and she didn’t want that, not right now.

Ellie heard the woman and she nodded her head at her though the woman couldn’t see her one bit. She moved into the bathroom and towards the closet in there as she pulled out a towel for the woman, walking over to her and handing it to her. “Here,” she said simply to the woman.

Summer looked at Ellie as she entered the bathroom once more and she nodded, sliding the glass a bit, taking the towel from Ellie. “Thank you,” she said softly as she wrapped the towel around her frame, patting down before she finally stepped out of the shower, hair dripping. She quickly walked over to the sink and grabbed a brush, smoothing her long curly hair back into a bun. With that, she turned on the sink and grabbed her toothbrush as she began to clean her teeth. “Sorry about last night,” she added now, apologizing once again. “That was… a lot,” she said knowingly.

Ellie nodded her head at Summer and as she went along to say she was sorry again and she looked at her for a while before she said, “why do you keep apologizing for getting drunk?” she asked her. “It’s no big deal,” she told her with a headshake, “you partied, whatever,” she added as she turned around, crossing her arms over her chest as she moved to walk away from the woman again.

Looking over at Ellie, Summer said around her toothbrush, “because you’re mad at me for it…” easily, watching as Ellie folded her arms and walked away from her. Looking back at herself in the mirror, Summer scrubbed her teeth with the brush before she finished and she turned the water back on, rinsing her toothbrush off and tapping it against the side of the sink before she placed it back where it belonged. She spat and rinsed her mouth out now before she reached for her cleaner and spin brush for her face.

Summer was damn right; she was pissed off; Ellie was glad she knew that too. She was learning and fast which was very good for her and she shook her head at her easily. “Yeah, because it was just so amazing to me that you had another Gala and I wasn’t invited. One of which you get pissy drunk at and stay out until 3AM to,” Ellie said to her rolling her eyes as she moved to make the bed up for the day.

Summer sucked in a breath at Ellie’s words and she looked over at the woman as she walked out the bathroom. She had thought about inviting Ellie, but the woman never really expressed interest in wanting to go or really even in her studio much at all. Sighing out, she looked at herself in the mirror as she began washing her face. When she was done, she placed everything away before she rubbed on a simple SPF moisturizer. With that, she walked out of the bathroom, holding the towel to her chest as she did. “I… I didn’t think you would want to go,” she admitted. “The thought of inviting you crossed my mind, of course it did, but I just thought you maybe might not want to be bothered with it,” she said, “you’ve never really expressed much interest in what I do,” she said as she walked over to the drawer and pulled out a sports bra and boxer briefs.

Ellie listened to Summer’s response to her and she pursed her lips at her a bit. Oh sure, how convenient was that for her. “Okay,” she said easily, they never really talked about work with each other much, so it was interesting that she used that as an excuse. She fixed all the pillows on the bed neatly like they were supposed to be before she moved to collect her discarded clothing from the night before tossing them into the hamper. “Right,” she said, “you wanted a night of freedom that is what last night was,” she told her. “All those same little fucking girls were probably all over your oily light skinned ass last night. Buying bitches drinks and shit, while I’m at our home in bed alone… Fucking women and men,” she said shaking her head at Summer.

She was tired of both right now; men and women were all the same and they made her sick.

Summer placed the bra and boxers onto her body before she turned, looking back at Ellie. Blinking slowly, she let Ellie get her words out before she asked, “is it just in your nature to force a problem where there is none?” she asked Ellie seriously. “Like you sit there and literally create issues out of thin air,” she said looking at her girlfriend. “It was a work event Ellie,” Summer said harshly. “We hold one once or twice a month. It's how we collect a majority of our money for the studio, those events are what keep us afloat,” she said, shaking her head as she grabbed a tank top and pulled it on. “And just to be clear, it’s an open bar, no buying drinks,” she said licking her lips, “the more people drink, the more they donate,” she told Ellie, bitterly before she opened another drawer grabbing out a pair of sweatpants before she slammed it shut, hurting her own ears. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is or has been but figure it the fuck out Ellie because you… are on some other shit,” she said licking her lips as she stepped into the sweats. “First, it’s random fucking Instagram comments that don’t mean a damn thing, now it’s me coming home drunk from a work event?” she questioned, shaking her head. “Work out whatever issue you’re having because that’s on you, not on me, I haven’t done shit,” she told Ellie before she moved past the woman and out of the room, going into the bathroom to get more aspirin.

Ellie stood there as Summer turned around to respond to her, pulling clothes onto her body the whole while. She squinted at her slightly as she called herself picking her apart, interesting. She folded her arms back over her chest as she stood there leaning against the dresser licking her lips slowly as she willed herself not to beat the fuck out of the woman right now. She had a slick fucking mouth and she’d learn very quickly not to carry on certain antics with her. As she walked past her towards the bathroom, she nodded her head very slowly at her, her eyes darkening on their own as she moved to walk out of their bedroom without a remark. Which was very unlike her to do.

Summer moved into the bathroom and she opened the cabinet once more, grabbing the pill bottle and shaking two more tablets into her hand. She tossed them back, swallowing them dry, before she placed the bottle back and she pinched the bridge of her nose with a deep sigh.

Ellie moved down the hall, down the stairs towards the kitchen in the house. She thought of a meal to cook for lunch to herself as she rummaged through the large fridge. She usually went by what was around and readily available when she cooked, but they were fully stocked right now so she had many options.

Wynter trotted down the steps, humming happily. She was so giddy and excited that she couldn’t contain it. She still could not believe that Oliver asked her out. Smiling to herself, she walked into the kitchen and said, “hey Ellie,” brightly as she dipped under Ellie’s arm to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

Summer gathered herself before she walked out of the bathroom, looking around the empty bedroom for a moment. She walked over to the dresser, looking for her phone once more, before she remembered that she had tossed it on the couch downstairs. Moving out the bedroom, she walked down the steps to the living room. Picking her phone up off the couch, she unlocked it and read the messages from Jasmine and Taylor before she replied to them both. Looking over at Wynter and Ellie, Summer moved outside to the backyard as she called Jasmine.

Ellie looked down at Wynter and she said, “hey girl,” to her easily allowing her to grab some water before she closed the doors behind them. She looked at her and said, “what time again?” curiously, she couldn’t decide on what to cook. So, perhaps she may get something to eat with Wynter beforehand, that would be easy.

Wynter cracked the bottle open, taking a sit of it before she said, “3:30,” quietly, looking back at Summer as she walked outside. Knowing the woman was out of earshot she went on to say, “can you help me pick out an outfit?” with a bright smile. This would be her first date and she was nervous as all get out. She just wanted to be cool and chill though, she didn’t want to scare Oliver off, especially considering that it took several years for him to even acknowledge her in this way.

Summer sat down outside near the outhouse and grill as Jasmine answered the phone and they began talking about last night's events. “So, how much did we raise last night?” she asked Jasmine and when the woman told her, she let out a low whistle, “damn, that’s amazing,” she said with a small smile, “with that we can add onto the studio and put together our showcase for this year,” she said thoughtfully. “Plus, maybe hire two more teachers since you know who is on maternity leave and we might be losing Jackie as well,” she said.

Ellie looked at her and nodded looking at the time on the oven “3:30, we could grab lunch before I drop you off,” she said cheerfully to her. As the girl went on to explain she needed help with an outfit she nodded her head at her. “No problem,” she said nodding her head as she folded her arms leaning against the fridge.

Wynter smiled with a nod. “Oh… well, Oliver said that we were going to eat during the movie,” she said biting her lip, “it’s a dine-in theater,” she told Ellie easily, sliding her hand into her pocket as she nursed her water with the other.

“Right,” Ellie said to the girl, “makes sense,” she nodded her head. “I’ll just eat while I wait for you,” she told her trying not to sound defeated. “So, when are you going to get ready?” she asked her curiously.

Wynter bit her lip hard at Ellie and she said, “I can ask him if we can just get popcorn and snacks,” seeing how quickly Ellie’s demeanor changed. Licking her lips, she looked at the time on the stove and said, “In about an hour,” she giggled before she pulled herself together. “Ugh, I just don’t want to embarrass myself,” she said as she pushed some of her hair back.

“No, it’s fine,” Ellie waved off to her before she looked at the time. “Okay,” she nodded at the girl. “Well, I’ll be in the room when you are ready to pick something out,” she told her easily as she moved to walk off from the young girl, patting her on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she told her.

Frowning a bit, Wynter nodded at Ellie and she said, “okay…” a bit sadly. She had no idea what was wrong with Ellie, or Summer for that matter, since she hadn’t spoken a word to her when she walked past. Sighing out, she drank more of her water before she tossed the bottle away and moved to sit down on the couch to watch some TV before she began getting ready later.

[rosyerim]

fwb↠ lovers!yukhei

warnings; obvi sexual stuff, some cursing, 16++!!!

listen i am a HOE for lucas

but lbr so are u 

who isn’t like have you SEEN that man GOD

anywho letzgetit

lucas aka wong yukhei was one of your friends ever since u two got paired up for a presentation in college

super cocky when u approached him first 

u were like

“hi so will we go to yours ?”

he was like

“( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) oh we’re goin to mine huh? that fast u must want me bad( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)“

u just rolled ur eyes and was like

“listen here u damn TREE i meant so we could work on the presentation!!”

he’s like “yea sure whatever u say babe”

so u just rolled ur eyes again and was abt to leave before he grabbed ur hand and was like im jk!! gimme ur number so we can sort out a day

so u do bc i mean who wouldnt give lucas their number

when u get home u already have a message from him

“hey it’s lucas :)”

“lemme know what day suits u, im p much free all week!”

he actually wasn’t free all week but would have cancelled any plans for u in a heartbEAT 

little do u know, homeboy been lowkey crushin’ on you ever since he saw u strut into the same lecture room as him

then u tripped but thats BESIDes tHe poInT

u text back and are like

“i’m free tommorow if that suits u?”

you didn’t expect a text back so quick

you put your phone down for 00.02 seconds before

WHA-PING

its ya boi lucas double texting u

“yeah i’m free haha said i was free all week :)”

“that came off as kinda passive aggressive im sorry thats not what i meant??”

hehehe u just smile to ur self what a cutie

you set up to meet at the campus cafe the next day at like 2pm bc god knows ur ass won’t be up before 1pm

again once u put ur phone down thinking the convo was over

WHA-PING-DING

its lucas again 

“so..what are u doin rn? i’m just workin out haha :)”

wong yukhei rlly out here bein all fuckboyish and shit but u bein ur good, sin free self ignore the DEVILS calling and go do ur own things around the house

ignoring the WHA-PINGS

next day rolls around 

you’re at the cafe like 10 mins early because u didn’t want to b late 

and woahh whose already sitting inside at the corner table w two chairs??

and two steaming cups of coffee??

yeah u guessed it lucASS

looking fine as heLL in literally just a white hoodie??

you know THIS look

that whole ass look

okay stop staring at his beautiful self and go i n s i d e

bby boy does a lil jump of surprise when u walk up he was so immersed in his phone

he was not looking up “how to get someone to like u” fucjakjks

he’s all smiley and is like

“ (✿◠‿◠) i didn’t know what drink u liked so i just got u a coffee, hope its okay(✿◠‿◠)“

ssjdhsjd ofc its okay baby!!

u just nod and say you’ll pay next time

he gets a lil blushy bc your both gone meet up again aw

so you both start working, he has ideas so do you, so you both compromise and wow u two make a great team

at some point the convo turns from school to sharing drunk stories of ur friends

a few coffees & lots of laughing later u suddenly realize its gotten rlly late bc of how dark it is outside!!

cue lucas using this as an opportunity to be all suave & gentlemanly 

“wow it’s gotten late, i’ll walk you home!!” 

so ur both on course to ur apartment 

he tries to be that boy and put his jumper on u because he saw u shiver for 00.001 second

but ur like lol no thanks im not cold

the tips of ears go red & poor bby is embarrassed  so he goes all pouty :((

then u feel bad bc homeboy was jus tryna be nice :((

so u end up wrappin yourself up in it and now hes all :))

now ur all :))) too

when u get to ur apt he kinda awkwardly shuffles outside so u invite him inside so he can “warm up” before he leaves

and whooo did u two “warm up”

he takes a seat on ur sofa & is kinda mindlessly babbling as u put on some music and bring him over a warm drink 

so ur both just sittin there bbq sauce on ya titties

and then its like some sort of sudden tension arises??

he stops babbling and just stares at u 

u stare back, slowly putting down ur drink

then ur leaning in oh so s l o w l y

he places his big ass hand on the side of ur face, eyes hovering from ur lips to ur eyes, asking for permission 

you give him a lil nod and he s w o o p s the fuck in

his plump lips are soft, a lil chapped and the first kiss is tender, he pulls away after a few seconds

he looks at you thru half lidded eyes and oop you pulled him back to ya lips hehe

from there it escalates 

he leans back onto the sofa and pulls you ontop of him, in a straddling position

one of his hands moves from your face down to your waist holding u tightly against while the other is rubbing circles on the exposed skin below your shirt

his tongue pushes past your lips, to meet yours and you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the ends

this elicits a deep ass groan outta him and he pulls back suddenly, tilting his head up towards you

you’re slightly panting as you take note of his swollen lips and slight blush dusting his cheeks

he notices the same things about you and smirks before your face back towards him

to ur slight disappointment it’s not as heated as before, just a lil soft kiss and hes pulling away again

ur like 

“<(｀^´)> why’d u stopp <(｀^´)>“

he just chuckles w his deeper than the ocean voice pinches ur cheek lightly

“because as much as i’d like to keep goin, it’s a bit too fast paced don’t you think?”

you flush again as u didn’t even think about what he was feeling and nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck

but the hypocrisy of this bOY

the next time u two meet up to “work on the project” u end up goin to his place and oop hes got u beneath him on his bed, both of ur shirts on the floor 

his mouth is set on marking your neck, collarbones while his hips are lightly grinding down on you, you feeling his bulge from beneath his tracksuit pants

you wrap you legs around him, pulling him even closer before flipping him over somehow

he’s a lil surprised as you take ur turn to pepper his neck and collarbones w love bites but he’s not complaining as u can tell from his quiet moans beneath you

you make your way lower on his body, stopping just before the waistband of his pants, looking up at him

“can i?”

u ask him first because consent is important kids

he nods so fast ur afraid his head is gona pop off 

you pull his pants & underwear down and wha-ping there he is

you grasp him at the base and lucas throws his head back, almost banging it off his headboard but does he care? nope.

so after ya know, suck the soul out of him

homeboy needs a phat minute to get his breath back

but ur pulling ur top back on, ready to go bc u felt like he woulda kicked u out but nOPE

the second he catches u ready to leave, he grabs u and pulls u back down onto the bed w him

ur like??? but in a good way

he ends up peppering ur face w lots of kisses and u gigglin bc aw

but then the kisses end up getting more heated as he makes his way down ur body, ur shirt leaving u once again, as well as ur pants and oops ur underwear too??

he ends up giving back what he received :)))

after that night, you both agree to keep it casual

basically friends w benefits

lucas loves the idea 

at first

like the thought of him bein’ able to text you whenever he was horny and not block him? great. gettin’ the occasional nude from you during his classes and ending up hard for an hour? not the best, but he’ll take it.

bUT the sight of you coming down off your high that he gave you while still panting his name softly??? 100000% HERE for it

wearing his shirt as you tumble around his bedroom, your neck covered in lovebites from him leaves him 97% soft and 3% sorta kinda horny

but he wants to be able to text you abt how your day was or what you’re doing for the day him or just listen to you rant!! not just when he pops a boner or you’re in the mood

he also wants to experience holding you in his arms, filled with love and not lust, kisses that are just innocent instead of heated 

to wake up to your sleeping face, no matter how funny looking, in the morning instead of an cold, empty space in his bed

but lucas knows you won’t return his feelings so he does his best to hide them (read: fails miserably at hiding his feelings for you)

then you begin to notice subtle changes in his behavior 

he goes from choking you out w a dark look in his eyes to caressing your cheeks w heart eyes in 000.02 seconds

he gives you his shirt to keep even after you leave his apartment and insists on driving you home

he texts you pictures of cute puppies he saw on his way to college instead of his usual boxer pics 

safe to say, u knew wtf was up

but u didn’t want to sound conceited abt knowing lucas liked you, so you didn’t say anything

and you both kept up the facade of hiding your feelings for the other behind by taking your frustration out on each other, sexually

and it stays that way for a while, but lucas was becoming more agitated each night you left and vice versa

until he broke the unspoken rule

neither of you had stayed overnight at the others for fear of having to deal with the truth of your emotions in the morning

but that night as you lay beside him, breathing heavily, the thin covers barely covering your naked bodies, he slipped his hand into yours and pulled you close

and you both lay there for a while, content in each other embraces, listening to each others heartbeats

then, you shifted to move away, to leave another night of unspoken feelings for another day

but he pulled you back and whispered, “stay”

you knew what that meant, you thought it over in your head

if you stayed, you would wake up and finally face the music, finally talk about how much you’ve fallen for him

how much you want to give him kisses all over his face to make him laugh

how you want to go on cute little cafe dates and study dates and dinner dates and basically every kind of date with him

how you want to introduce him to your family as not just your friend, but your boyfriend, your lover

a few moments passed

lucas’ forehead creased slightly in worry

he placed a tender kiss on your knuckles

mumbled a soft “please”

you took a deep breath 

and relaxed against him, letting your eyelids flutter shut as you let sleep overcome you

missing how lucas’ eyes literally shone as he looked down on you

“finally” he whispered against the crown of your head as he placed a kiss there, his grin almost splitting his face in half

he sent a bunch of keyboard smashes into the nct gc later bc he was so happy sjdksjd

and thats how you and wong yukhei fell in love

he also still gets butterflies every time he sees you and screams internally every time u kiss him fucjskjd <33

le fin♡ 

this is my first bullet scenario, hope it was okay (〃▽〃)

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: The Room

Author: Walter++)eyedev: A Memoir

Rating: 0/5 stars

You could make a case for reading this book as a fun, if rather silly, exercise in "how much you used to like me, back before I was pretentious and pretentious made me want to destroy the word 'post' and I had the gall to give myself a number in parentheses after my name." If you are up for something a little more serious, the book fails to make much sense and never goes anywhere. (Although it is fun to read while drunk, or even while sober! A fun, if rather silly, exercise in "where you used to be right now.")

(I have no doubt that if I were in the same mood, I would have read the book as a parody and appreciated it much more. Since I wasn't, at least in the end, I think it's not much fun; not even for me.)

(I'm posting this under my real name because I don't want this post to lose its thread of reference to whatever book it was made to joke about. Also, I'm posting it here because there are people I know on Facebook who "don't want to have a discussion with Walter++eyedev," and have been talking about their impressions of the book -- which, alas, do not seem very positive.

If you are so inclined, of course, you could read the book by yourself. I don't recommend it. That said, if you have that impulse and are up for a fun, if rather silly, exercise in getting to know Walter++eyedev a little better, I heartily recommend that you buy a copy of this book right here, right now, because it's going on Amazon's Black List and it's impossible to get ahold of in any quantity. (It's available in a Kindle edition for $3.99.) That is, after all, my favorite Walter++eyedev book and I have the best job in the world.

Note: I am probably being kind of cranky about this post. In particular, I am being kind of cranky because the basic narrative conceit of the book is "I have an impish sense for what resonates with people and what doesn't," and I found that aspect of the book just about entirely unappealing -- something that I had felt before but had somehow not quite grokked. In particular, the sense that it was my duty to write a blog post about my impressions of the book had been with me for at least a year. I have now composed a post that I think sums it up rather better than I'd wanted to in the post itself. I hope you don't mind if I link to it here, since I'm curious what my friends think.

This is a hard question to answer because I have some conflicted feelings about the book. It's very enjoyable in many respects, but I'm sure the sense of fun that I'm describing here would also be enough to put an actually-pretentious person off this book, and the author is, in a lot of ways, a real, if unsympathetic, asshole.

But the worst part of the book isn't fun or self-deprecation or a sense of the author as being something other than "the smartest person in the room" -- although those qualities are present. The worst part is that there is this sense that you're supposed to like the author, not because of the "crackpotty" that the author is, but rather because they've written this book about Life, and as a result of having spent years on it, you can now discern the hidden laws of Life in the way you understand the patterns of the stars or the shape of the galaxies or the color of the stripes on an especially pretty panda, and it's an extremely enjoyable experience. And when you're done, you can feel superior about the whole thing. Life is beautiful. Life is so beautiful that a mere book can reflect it, because after all, just the fact that something exists is enough to imply it's beautiful, and if a person sits down to write out a fictionalized account of their lives, the result will undoubtedly be an account of the phenomena that make life beautiful, be they mundane (a delicious breakup) or esoteric (a mystical hidden reality which is the fundamental nature of humanity). I've read all sorts of books and none of them have quite duplicated the sense of superiority that I got from this book. There is just this very strange expectation that you, the reader of the book, should feel about its subject matter that you couldn't possibly feel if the author were an ordinary person. It's sort of like my response when I read the early portions of Salby's magnum opus -- everything that is not obviously about sex feels like it has to be obviously sex, and anything else feels forced and only comes from trying too hard to be unobjectionable and not admitting your own bias.

My sense, reading the whole book, was that the author was doing this in part because the writing process itself was fun. The whole book has this distinct tone: "I think it would be fun to start writing this book because I'm going to say lots of stuff that's just silly nonsense. I can just imagine the tone of this book itself." And I got the sense that the idea, originally conceived as just a joke, was not only entertained; it was enjoyed because it was a joke and was part of fun. There is the sense that someone was doing this in the spirit of fun. That is not a very nice feeling.

[neocassity]

Uncalled|1

Reader x Fuckboy!Jaehyun Word count: 882 Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst.

1 2 3 4 5

You laughed as Jaehyun winked at you from the counter, looking back at the girl sat beside him as his hand smoothed down her back.

 “I will never understand how does he always manage to get a fuck… like how, every fucking time?” Yuta whined as he set his booze down on the table before you, certainly tipsy and bitter about the horrid experience with the same woman a while back.

 “I feel like it’s because he doesn’t even try,” you licked your lips to eliminate the bitterness of alcohol of your tongue, “It’s mostly circumstantial. It’s not like he comes with the intent to fuck, but when he gets one just like that he doesn’t let it past.”

 “Yuta, I don’t get why you even talk about Jaehyun with y/n,” Taeyong laughed, “she’s always defensive.”

 “I am not defensive, I’m practical.” you corrected your friend who was already slouching in his seat, his head buried in his hands. “Taeyong, go home. You don’t look good.”

 “I wish,” he sighed, “I’m the douchebag’s ride since Elena broke his car.” he sat up and drank some water Johnny had gotten him earlier, which yet didn’t cease his brows to furrow.

 “It’s okay,” you reassuringly patted his thighs, “I’ll drop him. I have been to your place a couple of times, so it’s okay.”

 “You sure?” he smiled at you as you nodded, grabbing his jacket as he slowly made his way out. You made sure Doyoung went with him, just in case.

“Why is Jaehyun not getting a new car already? His dad’s filthy rich anyway, like got his son a new apartment when he got into Uni-”

 “Yuta, you sound so terribly bitter and jealous. Trust me, I could never empathise with your situation even if I tried. You got a good fuck last week, right?”

 “Well,” he started, “Yes! But that doesn’t mean I don’t need one right now.”

 “What about me?” you playfully asked.

 “You’re not my type, and you’re not even drunk. So, no.” he shrugged your proposal, “I’ll go take a piss before I leave too, I have to wake up early.” Johnny nodded in agreement as Yuta slowly walked away.

“It wasn’t even a date,” muttering more to yourself. you sighed as you sat back, turning your head toward Johnny.

 “I guess we’re too friendly to try something like that.” he smiled before emptying his glass of scotch, “But it’d have been amazing if we could get onto something more.”

 “I wish,” you laughed and closed your eyes, “I’ll snooze for a while, like five minutes…”

 You could tell that Yuta and Johnny had already left, and the club was starting to empty. You could feel the air lighten as the smell of sweat gradually alleviated, only a few murmurs made to your ears. It was so peacefully quiet and peaceful, something about the smell reminded you of a home you didn’t even miss…

 You felt a hand, soft yet strong, delicately shaking your shoulders, “Y/n, hey y/n,” he sounded just as exhausted, a loud yawn following his rather quiet voice, “Where’s Taeyong?”

 You yawned back and stretched your arms as you looked up at Jaehyun. You almost laughed when you saw him holding his shirt together to cover his torso. “Damn, she literally tore your shirt off.” a single button was dangling off the thread that would just give out from the weakest blow of air.

 “Yeah, one good fuck… she let me go raw.” he smirked as he said, his conceit shining through his droopy eyes.

 “Anyway, I sent the angel home. He was feeling sick. I’ll drop you.” you said as you wore your jacket.

 He helped you stand (like the gentleman his family had taught him to be) and you both made your way to your car. As you pushed the clutch all the way, turning your key, he muttered a quiet ‘thank you’.

 “At what time is your first class?”

 “Eight.”

 “Jesus Christ!” he shot up straight, “It’s almost three in the morning… y/n, you really didn’t have to.”

 “I didn’t do it for you stupid,” you cocked your head to the side, “I did it for Taeyong, he needs rest.”

 He smiled at you softly as if he wasn’t buying the reason.

 “Okay fine,” you gave up, “It was for you, too.”

 “Thanks…” his smile turned into a smirk and you regretted instantly.

 It’d be a lie to say that you didn’t have a very little crush on the man to your right, but you knew that that’s exactly how far it’d go. It wasn’t a crush that you had to pursue or had you pining, he just had the ability to make you touch yourself awake the entire night just by sending you a snap of him in which his hair was unkempt and he pouted with furrowed brows. You screenshotted it and told him that it was ‘just a meme’, nothing that had your soles heating up and your toes curling.

   Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. Going around your brain, tapering and squeezing till there’s no space in between, the man beside you snored softly as thoughts of them being grunts instead and against the crook of your neck violated your sanity. When you reached home... wait, you reached your home!

[intertwincd]

i just need someone to break this wall of bricks i’ve built (coliver angst)

part 1/3 of the handle with care trilogy

hello, chelsea here. this is a lil something i wrote in attempts to give myself closure and to help myself reminisce of the times everyone in htgawm wasn’t pulling bullshit stunts (aka season 1) and i hope you enjoy it! huge, enormous thank you to @colormayfade for editing and beta-ing too 

oh also i forgot to mention that the title of this part is borrowed from Yuna’s Places to Go

▪ ▪ ▪

i just need someone to break this wall of bricks i’ve built

It wasn’t as if he was scared, right?

Wrong. Of course he was scared, petrified even. Connor never knew what it was like to be brought back into a memory again and again every night; but that was before he and the other 4 of the k-5 killed Annalise Keating’s husband with their very own hands. He woke up drenched in cold sweat some nights; knuckles always bleach white and clutching at his sheets, trying to find some comfort, some security. This, ladies and gentlemen, was one of those nights.

He took lengthy breaths, in and out, trying to wash out the discomfort, fear and most of all—guilt.

In his head, Connor had long stopped trying to forgive himself for what he had done, because it was wrong in every sick disgusting way. Can you imagine killing your lecturer’s husband, cutting him up into sizable chunks and then pouring gasoline over it before proceeding to burn it? They might as well had tied a pink ribbon around the body and left a thank-you card with it at her doorstep.

As Connor raked his fingers through his wet hair, he laughed bitterly at what a mess he was. Even he couldn’t give himself the consolation he needed.

What he did the other night seemed to have created a black hole in him, a vacuum that sucked at whatever dignity or feelings he once had.

“Connor, I know this is hard on you, but you have to try— ” W es had tried to make him feel better, offering empty words of comfort that echoed around the house of Annalise Keating.

“And then what? Forget? We killed a man, Wes. ” Connor had stormed out of the house, unable to sustain another minute being suffocated by the air in the Keating house. God knew how many times he had to put himself through those memories until they’d stop resurfacing.

He sat in his car, letting his head rest against the steering wheel while the steady hum of the engine calmed him. The night in retrospect started its loop again, a broken VCR, a reminder that he had a debt to pay.

He wanted to be punished for what he had done wrong, he wanted to face the consequences of his crimes; but he just couldn’t find the bravery in him to own up.

Although Connor feels the things he does and claims to already accept that he himself had actually done something so unthinkable, he knows there is some part of him that is still in disbelief, too scared to come out of his forged armor and be true to himself for once.

The drive home was painful. Being alone was always an open invitation to the voices and the flashbacks, the silence a game of fill-in-the-blanks for the screaming and wailing.

He turned his music all the way up, and yet all he could hear was a mixture of his own screaming and the voices in his head going on and on and on. Thank God his subconscious self could still drive him home safely.  

A whole week after, and Connor still hadn’t  made any progress , unless the increasing number of beers he could finish within an hour passed as‘progress’.

He always liked living in the city. He found comfort in the fact that it was never completely asleep, and that he could fall into sweet slumber to the whirring of the city coming alive. Like it was a life form on its own, made up of a million others. Despite how people always call him vain and conceited, it was ironic how afraid he was of the idea of solitude.

Every night he turned on the TV, and weirdly enough,  the static buzzing and monotone voices between the constant flickering of channels provided c onnor all the company he needed.

And,  of course, there would be alcohol. Beer, usually, but occasionally, a fancy bottle of Jack as a congratulatory award for putting up with himself for yet another day.  But surely we all know that wasn’t the only reason Connor had such a knack for drinking.

He was pathetic, lonely, and empty–just like the barren apartment he owned.

Connor would fall asleep with the windows open, television still on,  surrounded by a pity party of beer cans scattered everywhere: the coffee table, the floor and even one still half full in his hand.

The other hand would hold a cell phone more often than not, and if you were lucky, his thumb would still hover over that number even his drunk self couldn’t bring to call. On other nights he would lie in the dead center of his bed, arms hugging his knees together, boxing himself in feeble attempts of covering  up that gaping hole in his chest called Oliver.

Who would’ve known Connor Walsh had feelings after all?

When the dreams came, every single detail—especially the ones he tried hardest to blur out or dilute with the uncanny amounts of beers he consumed—would remain untouched; sometimes even clearer and sharper. It was as if the alcohol he doused himself in was never enough to erase the memories, like the blood on his hands that would always make him feel dirty, inside and out no matter how many times he washed them.

The reason Connor took so much alcohol was to knock himself out to the extent that the hangover he’d wake up to could distract him for everything he feared: the truth.

He hated it when he was sober and awake, because even though he’d be one step further from the voices in his head, he would see his life laid out in front of him (like a PowerPoint presentation of his life—“Look, this is how much of a failure you are!”) and, as the people in the streets partied their lives away, he would feel every second passing, every tick of the clock a reminder that this was his life.

Staring at the ceiling, he learns this really is it. The hope and courage and kindness he had accumulated his whole life seemed to lessen every time he replayed that night in his head. He had his one shot in making his life one to be proud of, loving someone and letting them love him back and he blew it. He fucking blew it.

And then as the sky would turn another shade brighter outside the window of Connor Walsh’s apartment, he’d wonder about Oliver.

He’d piece everything together, every fray memory, every single second shared between them—trying so hard to find that one stray thread; the one thing he did or didn’t do—the single moment where he went wrong, the first symptoms of a splintering relationship.

He would go on for hours, just looking at the peeling cream-colored plaster until his vision doubled over. Sometimes, he’d even take out the old shirt Ollie left at his place ages ago and will himself not to call him, even if it meant just being sent to voicemail—at least he could hear his voice.

That’s when he would realize he no longer had the luxury of calling Ollie. He hurt him, and that was reason enough to cut all ties between them.

Do you ever do it? Sift through all the times you’ve had with someone you once held so closely, replaying them in your head again and again, looking for that one happy memory you can hold onto without all the pain that came with it, and then realize there aren’t any and everything is just one meaningless mess? You are down to your hands and knees, trying to clean up the stain of your mistakes that would just never quite disappear. The more you try to mend yourself, the bigger of a mess you make.

And yet, Connor did it repeatedly despite knowing there was nothing left to savor from that fractured relationship between him and Oliver. It hurt him to reminisce, but there was little he wouldn’t do to just hang on to some reminder of the latter.

In summation, it was beyond-words-woeful. But there was something about that one night that was different, because Connor figured it out.

He had found the missing puzzle piece, the answer to his one aching question; he knew where he went wrong. It was all his fault, all him.

He was scared of hurting others, so he never committed and instead gave away parts of himself to people who called him names and moan that ”God, they loved him,” and yet… it was only sex, nothing more.

The thought of commitment and exclusivity scared him enough to never settle down with anyone, enough for him to disappear before they could get his last name, enough for him to only leave empty white sheets in their wake.

He pushed people away when they got emotionally involved—he pushed Ollie away.

For years he had lived in the mindset that he was trying to protect others from getting hurt by him, but all this damned time the only person he was protecting was himself. The more distance he put between himself and all the people who cared for him (or who cared, in general), the safer he felt.

He was a liar. He lied to his parents when he said he was doing fine, he lied to Ollie when he said his charm wasn’t a weapon he used oh so often, but most of all he had been lying to himself: convincing himself that he was only lessening the casualties by doing what he did. He lied and he lied, telling himself he was over it, telling himself he was an independent, capable young man as he would pull out another beer. One sip for taste, two for company and three to forget everything completely.

So much for capability.

▪

There is only one thing worse than waking up smelling like a bar itself on a Tuesday morning with your apartment looking like an aftermath of World War II—having a witness.

In this case, it was Oliver Hampton; IT wizard, hacker, and the newly discovered love of Connor’s life. While you go on to wonder why on earth he was here, Connor’s attention was snatched by that feeling in his stomach whenever he…

“Fuck, I called you, didn’t I?”

Oliver looked up from his tablet, feet propped onto the coffee table that still had empty cans of beer that reeked of misery, despondency and the night before. He looked nothing short of as tired as Connor, and he definitely had been up till late.

For starters, Ollie was always a light sleeper; but his phone had been ringing off the hook; the caller ID flashing like a warning as he pondered on whether he should pick up or block the number. Naturally and eventually, Oliver picked up (he could never delete c onnor’s number anyway, he memorized it by heart); with his sweaty hands while he paced the floor in his slippers.

“Ollie? I know you really don’t want to talk to me right now, and it’s four in the morning…but I just, I figured it all out. I’m so broken and messed up and so fucking stupid, but I figured it all out. I hurt you a lot, and I lied even when the truth was out in the open.”

Oliver stared at the carpet some more, hearing his heart beat in his ear. “And I just need you to know that I’m sorry, and I miss you, I miss you so much. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ollie, I really didn’t.”

The line went dead and the man on the receiving end heard his heart shake and shatter just a little.

That is how he ended up in the depressing apartment of Connor Walsh. With a soft heart like his, Oliver couldn’t have kept away for long even if his life depended on it; he just wasn’t the type to walk away and stay away. He’d known both of them would cross paths sooner or later, but he didn’t expect it to be this soon.

When Oliver had let himself into the apartment (Connor never changed his lock, and he had a spare key—“For emergencies,” Connor had said) the whole place emitted the foul smell of alcohol, and his eyes carried out a panoramic sweep of the area, landing on the subject—a man presumably wearing clothes from the day before, a shirt with its sleeves folded and its collar unbuttoned and a cell phone lying next to his ear.

He did what he had to; changed Connor into one of his old tees and carried him to his bed. He found a trash bag and started to clean up, but stopped halfway. He had to stop picking up after Connor and let him learn his own lessons, or nothing was ever going to work for both of them.

Now, Connor lay in his bed, sitting against the headboard in the fresh set of clothes courtesy of Ollie. “I…What did I say to you?” He looked down, studying the creases on the sheets.

Oliver had so much he’d wanted tell him, so much anger and frustration he hadn’t been able to voice all this time. There were days where he felt he could punch Connor square in the face, but then and there he couldn’t seem to summon that anger because his heart ached in longing for this man that was staring at him, bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair.

“Something along the lines of I really miss you…or some really needy drunk talk?” Connor tried to probe some memory of him calling Ollie, but nothing would come. He chuckled nervously, still struggling to hold a steady gaze.

The bespectacled boy sighed. “You really don’t remember? Not even a little?” A crease formed between his eyebrows, suggesting that the phone call meant so much more than just some “really needy drunk talk” as Connor had put it.

Connor bit his lip, equally frustrated.  “I…really don’t remember.”

The other man reached for his briefcase, putting his tablet inside and getting ready to leave. “Well, then I guess it’s about time I get going.”

 He didn’t sound like Oliver at all. There was something cold in his voice that made Connor feel even more helpless than before.

“Wait, no. Don’t go. Stay.”

Oliver took one look at Connor who held onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to find some part of himself that didn’t feel forlorn.

“Fuck, why do you keep doing this to me?”  

“You always do this. You bat your eyes, and everything goes your way; you tell me to stay and I always do.” Oliver wasn’t thinking anymore. Every word he had vested in himself for so long… they were all pouring out.

“You made me watch you tear my heart to shreds, you cheat on me; and when you turn up again I just fall helpless to your charm, always crawling back to you.” Months and months of words gushed out—a broken dam.

“It’s not fair that I have to go through all of this. Sometimes, I just feel so damn vulnerable, you know? When you use that charm of yours and you get anything you want, I can’t help but feel like I’m just one of those ‘things’ to you. I feel so worthless. You do it repeatedly and you keep hurting me. And when I finally find the courage in me to actually leave you, this is what I get?” Sleepless nights, a thousand and one texts begging to be answered, and tears leaked from his shattered heart.

Connor sat cross-legged on his duvet, startled. Oliver was still …Oliver. The first and last person he had ever truly loved, and everything he said made sense: Connor pushed people away when the only thing he had wanted was to get closer.

“Look around you. You have a drinking problem, and you can’t take care of yourself. I told myself I had to stop cleaning up after your mistakes, because you will never learn if all everyone ever did was cover up your dirty work.”  

Oliver held up an empty can. “Can after can, you are drinking your whole life away, and you don’t seem to care about how you are hurting yourself, but can’t you have a little compassion and see how much this hurts the people around you? How much this hurts me?” Raised voice, pounding head.

“You broke me, Con. You broke me and now that I’ve left you, can’t you at least give me some comfort in knowing we are both better off apart? Not to have you call me four in the morning and see you destroying everything you are? Don’t you think I deserve at least that much?”

Connor kept silent, lost in his own turbulence.

“I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have come looking for some kind of…explanation.” Oliver wiped at his face which was now tear stained. “Look at you.” he laughed bitterly. “You’re not even trying. And those words you said to me, I really thought you figured it out.”

The law student stared at his palms, trying to grasp at any memory of the night before—anything at all.

“You’re right,” Connor started. “I’m a tragedy and I hate it just as much as you do…but I can fix this, I can fix us.”

Oliver scoffed. “God! Get over yourself, Connor. You fucked up, big time and you aren’t going to be able to fix us if you don’t start working on yourself.”

Even in crucial moments like this, Oliver’s heart still ached for what they once shared, but he knew it in his conscience that this was the right thing to do. He handed Connor some freshly laundered clothing and the black garbage bag he found earlier, not making eye contact the entire time.

“Here,” his voice softened, “Clean up this mess. Wash yourself of this self-pity and try to get yourself together.”

At this point, Connor had long surrendered, so he took the towel and went into the shower.

In the small cubicle the water rained down Connor’s lean physique, washing off the feeling of exhaustion, clearing his mind of the haze it had been caught in layer by layer as he lathered his body with soap and rinsed himself clean.

His skin grew red at the heat of the water, and he remembered. He remembered everything—from the beer to calling Ollie—he remembered it all.

Most importantly, he remembered that he did, in fact, figure it out.

He put two and two together and realized that the only reason Oliver would’ve turned up with that light in his eyes only barely lit was because Ollie had chosen to believe him when he said he had an explanation.

With his heart finally revving up again after what seemed like weeks of stagnancy, Connor hastily wrapped his towel around his waist. There was still time. He could still explain himself and convince Ollie he could find a way to mend himself and their relationship—light up that fire in Oliver’s eyes again.

“Ollie?” Connor called out as he stood before his apartment, only to be greeted by the quiet Ollie-less air of the living hall.

What lay before him was a whole new arrangement, a few novels stacked neatly on the coffee table replacing the beer cans that had been there for weeks on end, a laundry bag of clean clothing and the shades opened to let the light in.

Connor looked around for any sign that Ollie might return afterwards only to find a spare key—laid next to a bag of Chinese takeout.

The steam from the food was wafting out in slow spirals—warm, just like the spot on Connor’s temple that tingled; remnants of the kiss Oliver had left when Connor was tucked in bed, his calloused fingers clutching Oliver’s hand.

Connor probably didn’t realize, but that was the first time his nightmares kept quiet through the night.

[emortionallydefective]

About Moody!

All the stuff you ought to know about your favorite unstable little goofball.

Name: Mortimer “Moody” Smith

Home Dimension: E-321

Age: 14 - (depends on the thread)

Birthday: March 21st

Astrological Sign: Cusp Aries

Gender: Male

Sex: Male

Orientation: Pansexual

Background: Before his escape and the start of the Pocket Mortys craze, Moody was a standard issue Morty with a somewhat typical Rick and a somewhat typical family from Earth Dimension E-321. Moody was mostly on his own during the day – being a loner in school, or hanging around in his room not doing his homework with Snuffles. At night, he went on adventures with his grandpa Rick. He felt he was somebody with an identity beyond what the world had assigned him and for that he idolized his crazy grandfather; he put him up on a pedestal for giving him the chance seemingly no one else would.

Rick, of course, knew this. The old man warped this knowledge to his advantage. He knew he could make Moody do almost anything for him with little opposition. So, one night, he proposed a wild experiment. It involved manipulating Moody’s natural brainwaves to mimic the behaviors of his own and implementing new hardware and new connections that would give him abilities beyond his wildest imagination. Abilities Rick would have use for in an aide. Moody would be smarter, stronger, and still the perfect mask to hide behind. It was during the procedure that something went wrong. Perhaps Rick had one too many swigs of vodka whilst performing the operation and fudged up a connection. Moody should have been able to control his new abilities just by thinking about them – but that wasn’t the case. Upon closer observation Rick discovered that thoughts weren’t the trigger his powers were using, but instead were emotive behaviors.

So Rick had hit a snag in the road. Nothing he couldn’t work around. He developed an unnamed prototype that would tap into and translate Moody’s emotions. It was effectively a staggeringly accurate mood ring. After a second surgery, the device was embedded into his right inner wrist. Using this device to crack the code of what feelings did what, Rick figured he could train Moody to control his powers on a whim. What Rick failed to realize was that his grandson was only fourteen. The boy was a rollercoaster of hormones that could not be controlled, thus making him incredibly dangerous. Too dangerous to work with, in fact. The experiment was a failure, and one the Citadel would hunt him down for. So one night, Rick silently disappeared from their lives.

If you're looking to just hop into Role-playing feel free to skip this section for now.

Moody’s remaining familial relationships were rocky at best. Summer probably paid the most attention to Moody with the exception of Rick. She was generally annoyed by him, as most big sisters are by their younger siblings but highly tolerant and caring when the situation called for it. The two of them were on a level where they could rant about school or their insane family to one another but their similarities didn’t really span far beyond that. Summer is a bit of a party animal though, so she wasn’t always around. Therefore despite them being on good terms they just weren’t that close to one another.

Beth was very complicated and difficult for Moody to decipher. While there was no doubt in his mind that his mother loved him dearly, some of her decisions just didn’t seem to add up. For one, Moody was aware that Beth was aware of exactly what her father was doing to him. Yet, oddly she never once spoke to either of them about the incidents the two were often raveled up in. She knew about Rick’s experimentation on her son, and did absolutely nothing in response. The same woman who would bake him cookies when he was down or shoot down hordes of alien creatures to defend her children, could not stand up to her own father for the sake of her son. Second of all, Beth was a heavy drinker and drunk Beth was vastly different from sober Beth. She was cold, despondent, neglectful, and downright emotionally abusive towards those in her family. These behaviors worsened with the disappearance of her father. So she was either at work, at home ignoring him, or incoherently screaming at her son.

Then Jerry was just…Jerry. He was conceited and convinced the world revolved around him despite his admittance to mediocrity. Unless it concerned him directly, he just didn’t give a fuck. It was a defense mechanism. He didn’t care about his failing marriage or what Beth did, or Summer, or even Rick to an extent. So naturally he really didn’t grant Moody the time of day either unless he wanted something from him. Moody didn’t really care either by extension. Jerry was just…there – and of little significance.

If you skipped ahead, resume reading here.

Without Rick, Moody saw no point in living at home. He stole a Portal Gun, grabbed his dog, and followed in his grandfather’s footsteps – desperate for answers. Unfortunately he was captured by The Citadel of Rick’s and examined. When they discovered his instability, they branded the back of his neck with this marker, “E-321 Defective,” and sentenced to death. Luckily his ensuing fear managed to activate his powers and help him and Snuffles escape and go into hiding. They now take refuge in an abandoned A.A. meeting house that no Rick would ever be caught dead in.

From there, Moody started marketing his powers. Knowing the nature of Ricks to take things the easy (and preferably illegal) way, he started taking jobs as a freelancer of sorts in exchange for secrecy and favors.

[supersoulfulnature23]

Life.

written By Yours truly when I was in middle school.

Do you really know what it means to be a super hero

Unlike marvel,  or superman, society pegs as a zero

To have the power and strength to overcome poverty

To be able to face the figure in the mirror

For not trying to fit into the club of popularity

To stand tiredly,working two jobs to pay for school

Knowing your going places with no intention of becoming a fool

To hold your own, the single mothers with the strength of The Hulk

With wisdom, love, humbleness, with no mind to sulk

To all the African Americans, making a name for themselves

Working hard, behind the scenes, slaving like Santa’s elves

To all the rape victims who have broken the silence

With the strength of SuperWoman and endured violence

To the scholars,teachers,and coaches with no hidden agenda

With kind hearts, working towards something to remember

To the new romances that have ignored the doubters

Year after year as the doubters dwindled into awestruck pouters

To the musicians, because without music there’s no escape

To the planners with deadly intentions who regret and think, “wait”

Those that say no to drugs because sometimes we all fall victim to “just get away”

To being no longer a follower; fed up with people living their lives for them

To the geeks that later become millionaires, with a signing of a check let us all know who wins

Thanks to all the lawyers,cops and detectives

Who put away killers,troublemakers and thieves; they achieved it

But damn the dirty cops, conceited politicians and the corrupted system

Who are just in it to reach a quota

Character so flat like a warm soda

Putting the innocent behind bars, taking credit that they don’t deserve

We need a society with individuals worthy to preserve

They are so quick to hear themselves talk but so slow to listen

To all the people with no knowledge, why don’t you pay attention

Educate yourselves, be aware

Every body knows life isn’t fair

But life is good, it all depends on you

Don’t go day by day not having a clue

To the Robins, who take from the rich and give to the poor

But shame on the greedy who only want more

To the ones who have been homeless

The ones still struggling; jobless

To the teen parents, still holding on by a thread

Struggling to make ends meet;just fighting for bread

Oneday well reach that goal of a united society

But until our society passes sobriety

Well be stuck, because were all drunk, still staggering

Hungover on the past, cant remember yesterdays mistakes

But sure know todays triumphs or do we pretend

Like an email lets send;Us back to our zen