the unhealthy dynamic

the grad student (new chapter)

I got off the scale. Only fifteen pounds to lose. I can do this. I just have to control myself. It will be fine. Besides I can just go eat her out instead of binging. No more being. Huge piggy eating himself into a stupor. 

“Hey man you want some breakfast?”

I looked at the huge spread they had. Greasy, cheesy, sugary, fatty, rich delicious food. Hash browns, pancakes, syrup, eggs, bacon, sausage, donuts. I couldn’t eat any of it without going overboard. 

“No im good. I need to start watching my weight.”

“Your loss. You are really missing out.”

One of my roommates was on a bulk. The other was just starting to fill out.

“You sure we can’t tempt you?”

Danny’s pants were looking a bit snug lately. I mean that wasn’t saying much. He was pretty skinny. I looked again at the food. I could feel myself starting to drool. No no I can’t possibly be this weak.

“No I gotta stick to my diet.”

“Mmm more for us then.”

I bit my lip in envy as I watched Danny plow his way through his food. That should be me. I went back to my room to work on a paper. I could still smell the food. I pictured myself beached on the couch with at least a third of all that food in my gut. Laying there In anguish lamenting over my poor judgement my belly hanging out. I’d be groaning in pain but I’d be the one to finish the donuts. I’d lay there with the box on my stomach pushing them down even when I could no longer taste them. I’d be in hog heaven. Just a total fatty eating his way out of his clothes.

Fuck I’m so horny. I gripped my leftover pudge. Ugh I want this plump and full and my jeans tight. I remembered the bloating. So I got my water and went to work. It wasn’t enough. No matter how much I drank it wasn’t enough to satisfy that itch. 

“Hey guys is there any….?”

“Urrrrrrrrrrrp ooooooof.”

Danny was leaned back in his chair with his belt unbuckled and his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. He was clutching his belly and groaning.

“Did you eat all that?”

“Urrrrrp no of course not.”

He was definitely looking a bit softer lately. 

“Where is Charlie?”

“I don’t know probably taking a nap. He said he would head to the gym again at noon.”

There wasn’t a scrap of food left. 

“Damn.”

“Urrrrrp you are the one who said no.”

“Very true.”

I cursed myself for trying to follow my diet. 

………….

“Hmmm you still got some left to lose.”

I estimated it being about ten pounds left. Just enough to sink my hands into. He still didn’t really have much definition. 

“Ugh I know. Also I thought I would be getting some muscle by now.”

“You have to actually be working out to get muscle.”

I poked his tummy.

“I am.”

“At the gym?”

“I mean I walk.”

“Nah you gotta lift.”

“Ugh but that’s so boring.”

“Too bad. I’m a chest and arms girl.”

“Yeah and a belly girl.”

“Sometimes. But you were losing stamina.”

It was a bit hot when he was all out of shape but not fun with sex.

“True. But you liked seeing me all helpless and greedy.”

He dragged me toward him.

“What’s got into you?”

“I’m so hungry and horny. My roommates had this crazy breakfast this morning and I had to just watch them devour it and stick to my diet.”

“Awww poor piggy.”

“God believe me all I wanted to do was eat myself into a groaning aching mess and lament over my poor judgement. My stuffed belly spilling out my jeans never to be buttoned again.”

“Fuck!”

“What you like that?”

“You know I do. Ugh why do you have to mess with me?”

He started to kiss down my body. 

“I was jealous seeing my roommates starter belly bulging with so much delicious greasy food.”

“Oh fuck why were you jealous?”

He was teasing me like crazy.

“Because I wanted to plump this pudge up.”

He brought my hand to his belly. I squeezed it.

“Yeah you wanted to fatten yourself up?”

He was hovering over my panties now.

“I wanted to feel heavy and greedy and pathetically full. Out of control.”

“Fuck that’s hot.”

“I came here because I needed to eat your pussy in order to stick to my diet.”

He nuzzled my crotch.

“Fuck!”

He was relentless. 

“You taste like honey.”

“Fuck!”

“And you know I have a horrible sweet tooth.”

I couldn’t even formulate a response I just gripped his pudge tightly as he ate me out.

23 - Intricate

The chest was heavy, and [Rowan] could feel rich carving beneath his fingers as he dragged it into the open. He supposed it contained more blankets, or perhaps bukshah skin rugs. Lann lowered her lantern. Soft light glowed on the chest's lid, illuminating a carved pattern of birds, beasts and flowers. 'Why, it is beautiful!' Rowan exclaimed. [...] 'It is fitting that you admire it, for it was made for me by Morgan, your father's father, as a wedding gift,' [Lann] said. ROWAN OF RIN Rowan of the Bukshah Ch 9 The Carved Chest

sad violin hours for joel and morgan ;-; </3

thinking about morgan and joel spending many nights on this chest to give lann and joel making such a beautiful design inspired by the wonder of the world around him and he probably was so kind and probably loved lann because his big brother did even though she was so indifferent to him. and he was giving this gift his all and bonding with his brother and hoping to bond with lann maybe. and morgan probably spent a long time carving the design with love and care

and truly mind-boggling that it seems like lann did no self-reflection after joel died and their engagement broke off, especially with rowan. but also im sure it's complicated like maybe she did but she really really struggled perhaps. but she was never like the unexpected kind village elder, she was always pretty stern and crotchety. actually sidenote but that wouldve been pretty interesting to see rowan getting defended by lann sometimes and he has no idea why; but pretty sure rowan of rin series is less planned than the others because it was first but i dont know for sure. like it circles back in the end but i doubt she had it in mind when she wrote the first book imo. anyway just saying i can be forgiving on rowan and lann's early relationship.

anyway what a lot of anguish oh my god and like morgan loved them both so much and lann was jealous of his loyalty to his little brother, instead of like. admiring and appreciating morgan's kindness and loyalty. lann, he was loving and loyal to you too, he tried so hard. and when joel died, not only was morgan suffering intense grief for his brother's early end, but he cant not know that it was motivated by the village's (and lann's specifically) distaste and hatred for difference and perceived weakness and his whole world was upside down like how do you go on knowing the person you love doesnt love an integral part of your life, that the people you've known since childhood and their own children could be so cruel, that you have to go home to an empty home. and it seems like maybe he was willing to persist with his relationship with lann since it was she who opted to break the engagement out of pity/kindness damn. like it must have taken him a looooooooooooooooooooong time to recover, if he did at all. i want to believe he got to be happy again til his dying day ;-;

Sometimes I need to remind myself that not everyone watched Supernatural with an ongoing gen fic happening in their head, all about the family life of the angels before Chuck’s disappearance and the rise of humanity. And as such, not everyone was constantly compiling stray details thrown out about the angel characters, clustering them together into this rubber band ball of ideas that was just so fun to play with.

I mean, for instance, not everyone took in the way the other angel characters seemed to look down their noses at the cupid characters (who, it’s worth noting, are never once referred to by their individual names, but instead by the human pet name for their category of cherub [which in Lucifer’s case, was certainly framed as an unflattering term], despite Castiel once boasting that he knew everyone in Heaven), and reason to themselves that it was surely because the other angels were jealous. Because obviously, the cupids are given classified information from God himself about what bloodlines he wants to see continued and merged for the sake of his Plan, putting these silly, non-combatant angels on par with the archangels in terms of secret knowledge about what was to come. For the first couple billions of years of existence, while the other classes of angels were sitting around with nothing to do, they all had to watch the cupids happily zipping around the earth, cooing over blue-green algae and gradually coaxing different species into existence with their magic love arrows. And every time a significant milestone was reached, they also had to watch as the insipid little harbingers of love scooped the newborn creature up and raced over to the nearest archangel to excitedly show them their progress, like a little kid with their first art project. And the archangel in question, regardless of which one, would nod encouragingly and smile as the cupid in question babbled about the tiny, tiny lungs this fish had, or the beginnings of feet at the ends of its fins. Even Lucifer, who would also add the additional suggestion to try and give the next one more teeth.

Additionally, not everyone looked at the way that Lucifer was able to just insert himself into Sam’s head from inside the cage, and considered how Azazel needed to visit a specific geographic location to communicate with Lucifer, and even then was only just barely able to do so, and thus came to the conclusion that clearly Michael and Lucifer must have come to an agreement to pool their powers to project Luci’s image into Sam’s head. Which explains why Sam’s special link disappears right after leaving the cage, and also why Michael didn’t interfere when Lucifer was freed, even though season 15 makes it clear that Luci did not sneak quietly out the backdoor. Michael was fully aware who was responsible for the jailbreak, thus leading us to consider that perhaps Lucifer was supposed to turn around and free Michael and Adam in turn, but did not. Thus leading us to imagine Michael spending roughly a year (Earth time) tapping his foot in the cage, until . . .

“He’s not coming back for us, is he?”

And Adam, cracking open a molecule-flavored soda (manifested courtesy of Michael), snickers. “Nope. Told you not to trust him.”

“Right. . .” Michael exhales, looks around for a moment, settles on side-eyeing Adam. Then, with an air of ‘fuck it’ says, “Want to make out?”

And Adam promptly chokes on his soda.

And not everyone heard Metatron specifically say that he personally tattooed the names of every prophet of the Lord ever on the inner eyelids of every angel, and immediately had the thought, “Poor Michael” spring to mind. Because of course Michael was the first one on the proverbial chopping block, trying his best not to flinch as his little brother gradually figured out how to handle the needle. (To this day, Michael is still not sure if the prophet after Chuck Shurley is named Kevin Tran or Rovim Frun). And all the while, Michael was probably also trying his best not to worry about how things were going on Earth while he was busy getting his eyes stabbed.

After all, Lucifer was God’s second eldest son, barely younger than Michael in the grand scheme of things. He could handle watching over their younger siblings for a little while. And Raphael and Gabriel were there to help. Everything would be fine.

However, Michael isn’t aware that about five minutes after being left in charge, Lucifer yelled, “HEY EVERYONE, CHECK THIS OUT!” And then promptly threw his grace into the body of a nearby pterodactyl. Possession being a new ability that Chuck had recently invented, the surrounding angels were mystified as Lucifer piloted the prehistoric reptile through a series of dizzying loop-de-loops that saw the poor creature—not suited to containing angel grace—explode midway through, leaving Lucifer gleefully giggling in the sky.

About half of the angels looking on gaped in horror.

Gabriel whispered to Raphael, “We’re still beta testing that, right?”

The other half of the gathered angels, however, like the impressionable young followers that they are, start grinning, because Lucifer is grinning, and he’s their cool older brother, and as Lucifer—relishing the attention—makes a beeline toward the earth’s one continent, Pangea, and an unsuspecting herd of ornithopods, these younger angels eagerly follow.

Soon, Earth is full of the anguished cries of cupids, watching their hard work blown to bits again and again. Swept up in the crowd, are Castiel and Balthazar. They watch Uriel and Zachariah excitedly throw their armored dinosaur bodies against one another in the moments before both vessels combust, after which Uriel and Zachariah excitedly dart off to take on new ones.

“Are we sure this is. . .okay?”

“Well, Lucifer is in charge. We’re supposed to follow his lead. . .aren’t we?”

Meanwhile, Raphael is frantically trying to stem the carnage. Several dinosaurs are levitating in mid-air, as Raphael tries to simultaneously keep them from exploding while also ordering the angels possessing them to vacate the vessels immediately. But none of them have ever taken a vessel before, and do not know how to get out of them without tearing them apart. Raphael keeps expanding their powers to more and more creatures as their young siblings continue to follow Lucifer’s example.

“GABRIEL, DO SOMETHING!”

“RIGHT!” Gabriel looks around, locates Lucifer running amuck in an apatosaurus that he’s forcing to walk on its hind legs, and fires off a lightning bolt to startle him out.

The lightning bolt misses its target in spectacular fashion, and several trees catch on fire.

Gabriel throws another lightning bolt.

“GABRIEL, THAT IS NOT HELPING!”

“RIGHT!”

Gabriel then grabs a giant meteor from outer space and begins trying to smother the flames by whacking it against the continent, to Raphael’s horror. More cupids begin to cry. Thick clouds of dust fly up, choking out natural light on the planet’s surface—now only illuminated by flames, as well as the magma that rises up out of the cracks that form in Pangea, as Gabe unintentionally creates the first tectonic plates from the sheer force of his assault on the planet.

Trees fall over. Fire continues to spread.

Lucifer is still in the apatosaurus, but he’s fallen onto his side, laughing hysterically.

“WATER, GABRIEL! USE WATER!”

“OH! RIGHT!”

Gabriel throws the meteor into a nearby sea, creating a tsunami.

It is at this point that Raphael abandons the dinosaurs to their sad fate, forgetting their solemn oath to not reveal any secrets regarding evolution and God’s plan, to broadly yell out to any and all of their angelic siblings who are listening, “QUICKLY, SAVE THE MAMMALS!”

And it is at this point, that Michael returns. Samandriel, clutching a dozen or so rodents in his wings, is the first one to spot him. All of Michael’s eyes are red and puffy from abuse. The cupids are sobbing, the Earth is battered, flooded, and scorched. Angels are getting into fist fights with reapers as they dart back and forth, trying to ferry as many warm-blooded creatures as they can find from the site of the catastrophe to the relative safety on the other side of the mountain range Gabriel accidently made when he bashed a crater into the planet—relative, as it turns out some of those new mountains are in fact volcanoes, and it took some trial and error to figure out how far away from an active volcano could be considered “safe.”

Nearby, Castiel and Balthazar are somehow both stuck inside the same mosasaur, beached from the tsunami, and loudly panicking as they struggle to de-possess it before it explodes. There’s a snapping sound, and then suddenly all of the angels still trapped (or willfully frolicking) inside vessels are ejected, at the same time that the fire goes out and the volcanoes cease erupting.

Consequently, everyone goes very still as Michael scans the damage and his bedraggled siblings. With humans not yet existing, the art of facepalming is not yet a thing. But looking at Michael, one might just expect him to invent the practice right then and there.

When Michael gets to Lucifer, he’s greeted with, “What? Pop’s 86-ing the lizard kingdom anyway!”

Michael promptly drags Lucifer off to Heaven.               

The next day, it was made an official rule, written into the very fabric of angelkind: vessels could only be taken after obtaining explicit consent.

Additionally, everyone agreed to never, ever mention the existence of the dinosaurs or how they ended ever again. And, rather than fixing the damage to the Earth’s surface, the tectonic plate situation was just sort of left to do as it would.

Many, many years later, Adam was shocked by Michael’s reaction when the cage door suddenly swung open in Hell. Adam had immediately surged to his feet in excitement, ready to leave and never come back.

Michael, however, remained stationary on the floor, squinting at the doorway, wondering what dystopian nightmare must be waiting on Earth after leaving his siblings unsupervised for a solid decade.

“Michael? You okay?”

“Adam, before we go back to Earth, I think I need to tell you a story. . .”

Bloody Mess

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

AN: ok 1st of all this got Nasty and also I wanted to try a different format

Warning(s): +17 | Hemophilia, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), mentions of abuse, dead body (he deserved it), little rough, sub!Ralph Lamont, cum eating, hair pulling. Masterlist

Alright so I was dragging my feet to watch the episode of Blue Bloods with Alex Brightman in it and I'm glad I did because I got some cool ideas. I don't watch cop centric shows anymore but I thought Ralph would be a cool Italian mob type: turns out he's some dickhead twitch gamer who murdered a girl for stupid reasons I can't remember. 

So fuck cannon, he's a 90's mobman now. 

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**

Imagine Ralph Lamont is a one man clean up crew. He's the go-to guy for any jobs gone wrong, gone messy. Body needs disappearing without a trace? Ralphie's your guy. 

Kinda like The Wolf from Pulp Fiction (Tarentino, 1994) 

Hydrochloric acid, latex, bleach, bone saw: all he needs is a few hours and it's like there was never a brutal murder here. (Sometimes this is accomplished with a distraction, a staged robbery or shoot out a few counties over if there were too many witnesses)

So Mr. Clean I mean Mr. Lamont gets a job at your home. 

It's a cute little 3rd floor apartment with a Mr. and Mrs. Andersen living in it. 

Mr. Andersen is– pardon, was– a bookkeeper for Dr. Coolidge (friend of Ralphie's; they both like sterile environments), so it's a favor. Dr. Coolidge mentioned over the phone he expected something "like this" to happen sooner or later. He asked Ralphie to be delicate with you– the late Mrs. Andersen. 

You buzz him in without a word. 

He finds you leaning against the kitchen island, putting out the cherry of your cigarette. You put it out right on Mr. Andersen's ugly yellow tie (or he thinks it used to be yellow)

It's a fucking blood bath in here. Mr. Andersen was a bleeder. Red splashes and streaks cover the counters, the toaster, the oven door, the fridge. There are bloody footprints on the floor and an honest-to-go pool of it dripping off the counter right next to Andersen's final resting place. You left the steak knife in his throat and he must have sat down in that island chair never to get back up again. His eyes are listless and grey. 

Ralphie walks around you, careful to keep you in his peripheral just in case you weren't done "expressing yourself." The linen of your frock is stained, your feet are bare, and your eye is black and swollen. Some of your bruises are old. 

In his sweep, he finds three bloodied knives in the sink: a bread knife, a fillet knife, and a cleaver. 

"Mrs. Andersen," he says as he turns back to you, "if you wouldn't mind moving to the bedroom for me? You've made quite a mess and I'd hate for you to have to see anymore violence." 

"You gonna fight him for my honor? He's already dead." 

Ralphie chuckles. "No ma'am. I'm gonna cut him up into pieces so the gallons of acid I brought with me dissolve his corpse efficiently. I'll need to borrow your bathtub for that, and you don't want to try getting cleaned up after the fact. It's no good for the skin." 

He's circled around the white marble kitchen island to stand before you. He's calm. The smile on his face is easy and it soothes you. You drop your eyes and catch an unexpected sight. 

"Are you…" you wipe at your mouth a accidentally leave a crusted red streak. "Do you get off on this?" 

Mr. Lamont shifts his stance; no doubt you've seen the light tent in his pants. "What can I say except I admire your handiwork, Mrs. Andersen. I imagine you may have wanted him to die slowly and painfully. Was it all that you hoped for?" 

You turn sheepish (incredible, really, surrounded by such admirable evidence of your own rage) and nod. "It was…" 

"Glad to hear," he says softly. "Now, if you wouldn't mind..." 

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder but you step away from the island and change his distant, guiding gesture into an intimate embrace. He looks at you in surprise when he feels you wrap your hands around his back beneath his blazer. 

"I seem to suffer a similar affliction," you tell him and press yourself into his erection. "You wouldn't mind giving a girl a hand, would you?" 

Well it certainly wasn't part of the job, but he was eager to please. 

“As you like it,” he whispered, pulling you into a soft kiss. 

Your blood sings in your veins. You’ve just killed your no good louse of a husband and now you’ve got your tongue down a stranger’s throat. And a handsome one too, so polite (you were still wary of him but if Dr. Coolidge sent him perhaps he couldn’t be all bad)

You tug at his tie as if it would make him any closer to being inside of you. The smell of copper is a never ending assault on your senses, but you also smell wood smoke beneath it on his collar. 

Mr. Lamont’s cheeky hands find your hips and a second later he’s helping you sit up on the kitchen counter. You can see your husband from the corner of your eye, his mouth hanging open in eternal anguish. It just serves to intensify your lust for life. 

You give Mr. Lamont's belt a meaningful tug and slip back down to the floor to turn around

You mean to ask him to help you with your zipper, but instead you feel his lips at your neck just before his hand grips the back of your head and pushes you down, face first into the counter inches away from the pool of blood. 

Your hand slides through the sticky essence and you feel Lamont draw your skirts up and your underthings down. 

You gasp with a shriek as you feel something hot slide up your slit and over your other hole. Did he just lick you??? 

The living man growls in what sounds like pleasure, pulling at his sleek tie just enough to loosen the constriction at his throat and then he’s shucking his pants down. 

You’re not sure if you want him to work you up slowly or take what he wants but you hold your breath and let him lead. You’re far from disappointed when he massages the meat of your rear and leans over your back. 

“You can still change your mind, doll,” he whispers, “not too late to go shower and forget today.” 

You consider it but you don’t want to forget. You want the feeling of Georgie’s life slipping through your fingers to soothe you to sleep every night. You want to carry the pleasure of giving your former husband a reason for his rampant jealous streak and know that for once there was nothing he could do about it. You want this living man to make this strange and terrifying day to end in bliss and solidify everything like lightning striking sand.  

You lift your head and run your dripping red hand through his pristine locks. He locks eyes with you and a shiver runs through him as a droplet lands on his nose. “I don’t want to stop, Mr. Lamont. Now be a good guest and fuck me.” 

“Call me Ralphie please,” he breathes, and he’s all too happy to comply. You feel his cock slip between your folds and as he enters you as he promised, you lick your lips and taste cherry and rust. 

“Ralphie… Ralphie…” He loves the sound of his name on your lips, the squishing sound of your lovely womanhood taking everything he gives it. He puts a single hand on your hip leans back to take it all in: the bloody kitchen, the stiff, the lecherous moans, the sweat making his shirt stick to his back, the misleading cleanliness of the back of your dress…

Mr. Lamont runs his hand through the slime in his hair but that blood is already drying. He splashes it into the pool next to you and leaves a bloody print on your back, holding you down to the counter by your shoulder and driving his hips into you harder. 

He can hear you’re close by the crescendo of your voice. He’s close too, and ever the gentleman, he slips out of you and flips you onto your back, pulling up a dainty leg in your daze so he can re enter your heat like he belonged there. He’s resumed fucking you in mere seconds and he likes this position because now he can see your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Where do you want it,” he grunts out. He’s trying not to come but he doesn’t have the willpower to slow down. He needs your answer, and fast...

For a moment your eyes go hard. Mr. Lamont gulps and worries for a second you’re going to pull the steak knife out of your husband’s throat to slit his, but instead you take a hold of his hair and pull his head back into an awkward but commanding angle. 

He feels your breath ghost over his neck. “My house, my rules. Make me see stars and I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

You sink your teeth into his neck and reach down to circle your pearl. Mr. Lamont does as he’s told, hissing and grunting but he holds off his release to give you exactly what you want. 

He has to stop thrusting when you start those delicious rhythmic tremors. He has to hold you up as you throw your head back and lose your balance, dependent on him to keep you upright. He takes over rubbing your pearl with a similar pressure as the one he watched you give yourself, and eased you back down from heaven into the bloody abyss on earth. 

For a second Ralph fears you’ve got too much control. What will he do if you tell him not to come at all? He’ll do as you command, of course, but how cruel were you going to treat him now that you’ve gotten what you wanted? He’s seen your handiwork all around, remember that. 

But your eyes turn soft and he’s worried you’re about to cry, that is until he watches you slip down to your bruised knees and ease your dress down your shoulders. Now you look positively debauched, breast bared and eyes turned up with a pleading look. 

“Finish on me, Ralphie.” You bit your lip and hope to god he’s still listening. “Right over my heart.” 

Ralph Lamont has never whimpered before. He’s doing it right now. How the fuck did he end up like this? 

He strokes his cooling cock, taking everything in from his position above you and feeling his drumming heartbeat in the throbbing of his member. The only word going through his head is yes

Ralphie gives one of you tits a squeeze, then gets an idea

It's a little awkward trying to get you to understand, but you catch on and there's this eager glow in your eyes

You help him slot his cock between your breasts and continue to jerk him off, using your hands as necessary to assist

He's not far now seeing you-- feeling you like that

Ralphie comes with a groan, a white rope painting your chin and splattering cockeyed down over your neck and onto the tops of your breasts. He has to catch himself on the counter as the next rope dribbles lower, half slipping into your cleavage and the rest staining the neckline of your ruined dress. His hips jerk once, twice. You let him slip from your embrace and twist your hand over the head just to milk whatever he has left into your mouth, and then he collapses into a heap beside you. 

You let him catch his breath for a minute, then grasp his jaw and turn his head towards you. You’re looking down your nose at him again and his vulnerable eyes beg for more. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” you gesture to the milky essence covering your skin in mock annoyance. “Clean it up like a good boy.” 

Eyes half lidded, Ralphie leans towards you in a trance, tongue swiping over every pearlescent trail and stray droplet until you’re ‘clean’ again

Completely spent, the man rests his head against your shoulder. Your hands come up to cradle him, stroking his matted hair as if you've not a care in the world

When he's ready he helps you stand up and straightens his clothes

Instead of helping you back into yours he strips you of them

"These will have to be burned, I'm afraid," he tells you. "Go on now, take a nice long bath and I'll call Kevin to see if he can take you somewhere for the night

You have to clear the tub and run it again to get truly clean. All of that grime builds up thick on your skin while you were having your acts of catharsis. 

You slip into a satin frock in your favorite color and let Kevin whisk you away to a movie for the night

As you fix your earring in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of Ralph Lamont on your balcony. He waves down at you leaning against the ledge and unbothered by the state of his clothes. From this far down, it doesn't look like blood

But you know better, don't you?

@hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape

Anonymous:

Hey there, could you do Obito comforting his s/o when they're jealous bc they think Obito hasn't got over rin yet? Thank you^^

The night is cold, really cold. A typical winter one, with a big snowfall hitting the windows of your darkroom. The watch says four o'clock in the morning when you wake up to the sound of a soft, trembling, anguished voice.

Hugging Obito’s chest you feel safe, enjoying his body heat, the firmness of his muscles. The closeness of your naked body is all you need to be relaxed until you realize that the noise is coming from him. He keeps one arm around your figure, getting you closer to him constantly, and your faces are confronted. Your nose is resting on his pectorals, and when you feel him babbling, you place small kisses on his skin to calm him down.

“Ka..shi … no…”

“Obi… shhh it’ s okay shhh”

“No… nt… ashi… ple…”

“It’s just a nightmare, I’m here with you.”

“Rin… Ri… ve you…”

Even if it was a product of his subconscious, the fact that Obito dreams about his old love, the one which almost dragged him into madness, is something you can’t get used to. The insecurities that this generates in you are huge, and although you usually keep things under control, on occasions like this, it is not the case.

“Obito wake up.”

“…ve you… ve you…”

“ Obito!”

“RIN DON’T LEAVE ME!”

The Uchiha awoke in shock, with a layer of cold sweat covering his body, and his shaking form. In his grip, you found yourself tense, with your teeth tightly clenched and your eyelids pressed against each other. Suddenly, one half of you just wanted to get away from him and his arms. The other half wanted to hold on strongly to him, dig your nails into his skin and scream in his face to forget about that damn woman because she is dead.

While your mind is trying to say in which direction to take the situation, it is Obito who takes the reins, and gets out of bed, undoing the embrace he had with you. Without looking at you, he goes to the edge of the mattress, puts on his underwear, and leaves the room.

Lying down, you listen to the bathroom door open and the tap on the sink turns on. The water eventually stops running, a sign that Obito has turned it off, but several minutes go by and he doesn’t come back to you.

Stressed by his behavior and with increasing anguish in your stomach, you get up, put on his T-shirt, and go in search of him. You don’t find him in the bathroom, but on your balcony, exposed to the freezing cold of the early morning, barely dressed. His body doesn’t even shiver in the face of the weather, and you can’t help but wonder what horrible things this man has lived through in his life to be immune to a deadly frost.

“Obito please go back to bed. It’s freezing and you have no clothes.”

Looking over his shoulder, he spoke.

“Why do you act as if it doesn’t affect you?”

Knowing exactly what he meant, there was no point in trying to deny it.

“I don’t act… but it’s not my place to recriminate you about these things… I don’t know what you’ve been through.”

“But you can be in doubt, you can be in fear. I feel the tension every time I wake up after a nightmare.”

He turned on his heels, went back inside, and closed the balcony door behind him.

“You always say her name… that you love her, not to leave you. It’s just… I’m here, I’m with you, but it’s like you keep running after her despite my presence…”

“[Y/N]… I can’t deny that Rin was my first love, she was… really changed my life, a painful turning point. Her death… her death was a heartbreaking event, and I only avoided falling into a spiral of madness and darkness because of you. We have been together for many years, and I have never explained to you one bit of the hell that came before our relationship…”

“I just… need… to know that you really are choosing me. That you love me, Obito, that your mind is not still in the past, even if your words say otherwise.”

“You were my lifeline [Y/N], you are my lifeline. If you hadn’t come, by now I would probably be trying to destroy the world, humanity, or causing a world war, who knows. What I am trying to say is, even though my fears are filled with my first love because I could not protect her… you are the love of my life.  The ultimate, the only, and the one that really matters. I love you so much that sometimes I act like an idiot and immature child as if I were someone else. That’s the effect you have on me, that no one else but you would ever have. You’re the only person I want by my side, and if you weren’t here… I can’t imagine myself in that situation.”

“How do you make me love you so much?”

“I have some talents… now please can we go back to bed because you look very pretty with my shirt on and I really need to hug you to sleep… I’m exhausted.”

“Of course you are.”

Truth Hurts

Viperion crouched behind one of the Eiffel Tower’s pillars. His laid back demeaner started to slip away as he watched the scene play out in front of him. Normally he wouldn’t let anything get to him, but everyone has their breaking point and he’d just witnessed his.

At first, he’d followed Ladybug to make sure she was okay but then he’d spotted Chat. He didn’t hate Adrien or his alter ego but he didn’t understand why the blonde hadn’t fought harder to stay when Luka would rip out his heart for her.

Viperion knew he didn’t stand a chance against his blonde rivel. He’d watched over and over how Marinette tore herself apart in anguish at everything she’d lost, including Adrien. It broke his heart that he wasn’t enough, but it didn’t stop him from loving the raven-haired beauty. Even if it wasn’t his name she called out in her sleep.

Viperion watched in silence as ladybug grabbed Chat’s face and kissed him. In that very moment he felt the weight of what he was about to lose, and it hurt. It hurt more that any physical pain he’d ever felt.

Having seen enough, he moved back into the shadows. Part of him wanted to yell and scream but what good would that do. Instead, he wiped his face with trembling hands and left as quickly as he could.

                                              ……………………….

Luka hadn’t slept and found himself walking along Paris’s empty streets with Sass. When he’d turned up at the Liberty the night before Juleka and Rose knew something was wrong straight away.

“Lu, you okay? I heard Adrien’s back.” Juleka asked, concern written all over her face. He wasn’t in the mood to talk and only shook his head before curling up on his old bed.

For the last two years he’d officially moved into the spare room at Sabine’s apartment above the bakery. He helped Sabine in the bakery when his studies let him and kept a constant eye on Marinette. His relationship with Marinette was complicated to say the least. They did everything a couple would do together but when it came to labels Marinette refused to commit. Sometimes he slept in her room and sometimes she’d crawl into his bed late at night when she couldn’t sleep.

Luka didn’t mean to walk back to the bakery but as if on auto pilot he’d ended up at the one place he wanted to avoid. Before he could retreat back to the Liberty, Sabine waved to him through the window. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Sabine was behind the counter filling the shelves for the morning rush.

“Oh, Luka honey thank god you’re here. I was worried about you. Marinette was awake most of the night. I think it was the nightmares again. Do you think you could check on her for me? She wouldn’t talk to me. I haven’t seen her this bad in ages.” She sighed before she rushed out the back to grab more trays.

Luka didn’t know if he was ready to see Marinette, but he hated how drained Sabine looked. The last three years had taken a toll on her. It had been a struggle to keep the bakery running without Tom.

In the early days after the akuma attack, Tom’s father had come out of retirement to help keep the business running until they could hire another baker. Alya, Luka and Nino as well as Marinette’s grandmother had helped behind the counter while Sabine had taken some time off to mourn with Marinette.

“I umm, sure.” Luka smiled weakly. He could never say no to Sabine and knowing Marinette could be spiralling again scared him.

Luka took the stairs two at a time. He’d already forgotten his own feelings. Now his only concern was Marinette. Moments later he pushed open the hatch into her room only to find it a disaster zone.

Marinette’s sketches were everywhere and her roles of fabric had been thrown across the room. In the centre of the floor a pile of old pictures Luka hadn’t seen before had been tipped out of a box. A lamp lay broken on the floor as well as broken glass from picture fames she’d clearly thrown.

The kwami’s were huddled together over the dolls house looking solemn. They looked at Luka with sad eyes and Barkk shook his little head. “The guardian is hurting, we don’t know how to help Luka.”

“I know Barkk it will be okay though. Can you please start cleaning up this mess and I’ll find her?” Luka asked before leaving the room to find Marinette.

The first place Luka looked was his room and sure enough he found her curled up on his bed with a fluffy blanket wrapped around her.

Tikki Marinette’s kwami floated in front of his face, holding up her little paw. “Shhh, she just fell asleep.”

Sass flew out of Luka’s hoddie. “My boy hasn’t slept at all either Tikki because of your selfish charge.”

“Sass, that’s not fair. Luka I’m sorry.” Tikki said looking deflated. “Nothing is easy when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“It’s okay Tikki.” Luka rubbed the little red kwami’s cheek then walked over to his bed.

Kicking his shoes off he lay down and snuggled in next to Marinette. She shifted unconsciously to mould herself to his side, her arm slid across his stomach and he felt her body relax. Brushing the hair off her face he kissed her forehead.

Luka felt himself drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep when he felt her start to toss and whimper in her sleep. He was used to her nightmares by now and he tightened his arms around her hoping it would pass quickly. Her whimpers turned into words and Luka felt his chest tighten.

“Please… stop… no Adrien… don’t go…”

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, but it didn’t make it any easier or hurt any less. Now Adrien was back Luka needed to talk to her. It was time for Marinette to choose. She had to let one of them go even if that meant breaking his heart.

                                                  ………………….

A month passed, and Luka still hadn’t talked to Marinette about choosing once and for all. It’s not that he hadn’t tried. They’d talked about the kiss and Marinette had explained it as more of a goodbye than the start of anything. But it was still Adrien’s name she called out in her sleep.

There’d been awkward moments when Marinette turned up at events Adrien was also attending. Luka would watch Adrien try and catch her before she ran off. Luka took it upon himself to stop Adrien chasing after her. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it to protect her or to keep Adrien as far away from her as he could.

It confused Luka to no end, he wasn’t a jealous person and he wanted Marinette to heal even if that meant losing her. So why did he keep stopping Adrien. It led to more than one awkward and sometimes confrontational conversation with him.

Last night had been no different when Adrien ran into them at the bar Luka sometimes played at with his band. Luka was drinking with Marinette, Juleka and Rose after a long week of exams. Marinette’s nightmares had been getting worse, but she refused to talk about it. At the same time, she also refused to sleep alone which meant Luka hadn’t been sleeping.

Chloe and Adrien appeared out of nowhere and before Luka could stop him Adrien had sat down next to Marinette and begged her to talk to him. Seeing the panic on Marinette’s face Luka grabbed Adrien’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Get the hint Agreste. She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Luka hissed at him.

“It’s not up to you Couffanie. You’re not her boyfriend.”

Luka didn’t remember much after that. He hadn’t snapped like that since he was fourteen and been expelled from school. The next thing he knew Spencer and Marvin the bouncers were trying to break the fight up. Little did they know both Adrien and Luka were stronger than the average twenty-year-old and it was proving harder than it should’ve been.

It took Marinette putting herself in-between the two to break the fight up.

Marinette dragged his ass back home and cleaned his bloody nose all the while giving him a lecture on how she could look after herself and didn’t need him. It was their first real fight. Luka said things he didn’t mean and when Marinette broke down, he crumbled. The two ended up naked and tangled in his bed sheets. After the wild makeup sex, he had the first full nights sleep he’d had in a long time.

Now watching her sleeping next to him, he knew something had to give. His love for her was starting to turn toxic and he didn’t like the person he was becoming. He carefully slid out from under her naked body and found his pants. He knew what he had to do. He should have done it ages ago but he’d always told himself that she wasn’t ready when in reality maybe it was him who wasn’t ready.

Luka opened his wardrobe and reached up to the top shelve. His hand closed around the box hidden at the back.

“Lu, come back to bed. It’s only 7:30. You own me more snuggles.”

Marinette’s sleepy voice almost had him putting it back, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need to give you this, my love. I hope you can forgive me someday but please know I did it to protect you.”

“Luka, what are you talking about?” Marinette asked, her eyebrows knitted together in concern as she sat up holding the blanket to her bare chest.

“After Chloe’s first trip to visit Adrien, she brought these home with her and every time after that. She gave them to me to pass on to you and I… well I didn’t. At first it was because you’d told me you never wanted to hear from him again. And then you were so angry at him I didn’t know if it was the right time and then… and then I guess there was never a right time.” Luka couldn’t look her in the eyes. He put the box infront of her and stepped back again stuffing his hands in his pocket.

Marinette lifted the lid and gasped. “Luka why? How could you make that decision for me?” Her voice sounded pained.

Finally, Luka looked at her. “I have no excuse. I hate seeing you tear yourself apart for him. If he really loved you Marinette like I do, he should’ve been the one here holding you late at night when you woke up screaming. I have to go, I have rehearsals.” And with that he grabbed his shirt and guitar and left the love of his life still naked and clearly in shock in his bed.

Part 1

A Green Night on the Town.

Is this a modern au? No. Ruby and Christina end up meeting the neighbors as William and Hillary. But Ruby wants to go to the bar and live a little, 👀.

Ruby Baptiste X Christina Braithwhite

Inspired by comments and posts by @dreaduquesne and @taylor144. I did do some research for this, the one song is from the 1960s but we are gonna pretend it's not. If you are going to be negative just for negativity sake please don’t. Wanted to post this before tonight’s episode where this ship may go down in flames. One more ep left after tonight *insert sad emojis*

Songs in order of appearance in story: Put on my Shoes by Mary Anne Fisher, I don't know by Ruth Brown, One Man's Poison by Liz Lands, It's Your Voodoo Working by Charles Sheffield.

MATURE RATING

LINK TO STORY ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN 

Ruby sat in the Bentley checking her image in the side mirror. The red lipstick she reapplied was new and came in a gold bullet with roses carved into it. It was the shade Ruby and she got it on one of her shopping adventures. As Hillary of course. The matte color clashed with Hillary's choice of clothing but perfectly matched her pink dress with red and blue flowers stitched onto it. She wasn't only checking her face but looking out for unfriendly neighbors.

In the weeks she's been with Christina in the house, the looks she's gotten are usually not friendly. Kids and parents alike staring her up and down like she is trash. In her most unholy form of self they smiled "Fake ass white folks ," she thinks. They were lucky most white people did not want trouble knowing William lived with her openly. As openly as they could be, the city of Chicago has always cared less about couples like them but the people sure do care enough. Ruby glances at the door that sits far behind iron gates. 

After her day out, William introduced her to some of the neighbors on another street who had kids. Kids who looked innocent playing in the streets. A group of men talking on the street flagged the Pontiac down making Ruby tense but William's hand rested atop hers in the middle of the seat.  They spoke across her wondering where they could get themselves a car and a woman that. William chuckled and made small talk which Ruby side eyed her partner for. 

That led to them both getting out of the car introducing themselves to these men and their wives as Hillary and William Davenport. An invitation for dinner came from one wife who kept commenting on the bump in Hillary's hair too nicely. Ruby heard a little bit of Christina's snark in Williams no and tampened that response with, "Sorry we have plans tonight." Which thankfully was accepted and before then they had no plans but now Ruby wanted to spend the night dancing to music, maybe singing just a little. As herself, after an exhausting day of keeping up with the Joneses or Smiths or whatever white slave master name they probably shared with a poorer distant cousin on the Southside. Damn she kinda missed the Southside. Christina had been before but not like this.

She sees a teenage boy dragging a trash can down the driveway next door but listens to the sound of feet making their way down the walkway. Slowly she puts the lipstick in her purse that will get left in the back seat because tonight she wants nothing to hold her back. Ruby watches Christina open and lock the gate with her back turned. Hair perfectly swooped to the side even in moonlight.

The tall blonde was in a green dress fitted at the waist that was far too fancy for whatever jazz joint they were bound to end up in. It looked new but Ruby swore Christina had too big of a closet, almost big enough for two people. William had a vest in a similar color, he wore a few days ago...well she wore Ruby guesses. Christina looks nice as she saunters towards the silver drivers side and Ruby bit the inside of her lip. There was something about the way the woman was so sure and confident in her walk, how she sat, or how she inserted the silver key into the ignition. Even when she was out dressing her for a simple night on the town. Those long hands just so handling the key before slipping...

Ruby swallows her jealous admiration and rolls her eyes, "Seriously?"

"What, is this too much ?" Christina asks, smoothing her fingertips over the leather of the steering wheel. She leans over Ruby likely too close and slips a vial of William's blood in the glove box. Giving Ruby an amused stare that makes Ruby roll her eyes even harder. Christina thinks of this as a game, one they both play. There are days she has already taken her potion and is dressed in slacks eating breakfast. Ruby will saunter into the kitchen dressed in a number that makes Christina wonder if keeping Ruby hostage would be so bad. Probably, if Leticia found out there would be a makeshift army outside her front door.

"Ha," Ruby laughs out loud and Christina smiles, "You fucking think, it's a jazz joint not the Ritz. Who in the Sam Hill are you trying to impress tonight?"

Christina lowers her eyes to Ruby's lips. She thinks of just exactly who she was continually trying to impress as covertly as possible. Ruby looks away and back realizing Christina is still staring at her like....that. She does it in William's skin too, those eyes sizing her up. Two piercing blue eyes always staring at her so deeply Ruby thinks she could burst into flames. No matter the face she does find it hard to look away. 

"Don't look at me like that. I warned you about that, now drive." Ruby says crossing her arms in her lap listening to the engine come alive. Christina grins to herself but keeps her words to herself as she shifts the car into drive.

The night leads them to Vesey's where Ruby is plenty filled with free drinks. She already sang at the last spot with a band but her presence rouses the crowd that is already not slow at all tonight. The bar is more packed than normal and Ruby forgets to ask why. She did hear Sammy whisper across the bar to a man next to her something about a discreet open door to friends of Dorothy for once. As soon as her and her unlikely plus one arrived, Christina said she'd be fine on her own. 

Ruby took that for truth but tried to read her half truth anyway. Christina held her own well but not like this...this would be a first. That was something Christina would say often "a first" with practically anything it made Ruby wonder if her secret-sometimes lover had any childhood or life at all before her sister came barreling into that mansion.

The whiskey is neat on her tongue as she tosses it back quickly before blearily grinning at Sammy. Tonight felt good and light and fun. No white eyes staring at her making her feel undone in front of them. Ruby in her skin surrounded by her kin and music that was sewn into her spirit. No matter how sad the lyrics could get the beat was full of life.

"And we have our resident songstress in the crowd tonight," someone on the small stage called out. Whistles came from the bar and the crowd mid dance at the stage. Andre, the young barkeep, winking at her taking her lipstick stained glass back behind the bar.

"I guess that's my cue Dre," Ruby raised her brows at him. He nods back, touching her hand sitting on the bar lightly. He sure was cute, she thought before slowly getting up from the stool. She makes her way past the packed house and in front of the band playing. Shouts and hollers come from the crowd as she holds out her hands. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Ruby Baptiste." The man pushes the mic in her hand and whispers good luck to her. She isn't a stranger to singing while drunk or singing well while drunk. Not even with a big audience but there is a feeling of nerves in her fingers as she grips the mic and slips it back in the stand.

"Hello Southside," Ruby says into the mic. Whistles get louder and someone bangs on the bar. This crowd definitely had some new faces in it but they were smiling or leaning against someone else like lustful animals. "Alrighty i guess y'all are entitled to a few songs."

Someone yells from a booth, "Yea, where you been Ruby left us on the south side for the north side."

Ruby laughs into the mic, " Y'all think I would leave this behind never!" She looks at the guitarist, "maybe you." Folks gossiping was always a trend her name sour on so many people's mouths.

Everyone laughs in response and she laughs quietly to herself. She whispers to the band "Put on my shoes".

Ruby sways with the band as they start before leaning into the mic.

"Should I feel a little hot, you almost drive me insane, All your good intentions. Seem to wash right down the drain, put yourself in my place. You'll see what I mean and you'll know how I feel. And you'll feel, you'll feel a pain in your heart."

Ruby scans the crowd with her eyes, landing on random spots of the crowd that look more enthused then others. Her voice still gravels out...

"Baby I've been let down more times than I can remember how you cheated on poor lil me from January to December. Put yourself in my place. You'll see what I mean and you'll know how I feel."

Her hand cradles the mic as she throws her words into it. She knows that pain even if it is not her current romance. Her heart had been split open once or twice before. Maybe that's why she held her heart back in  this thing with William, Christina, or as Montrose called them Chrilliam.

"And you'll feel you'll feel a pain in your heart. I've always been faithful and I've always been true but there's gotta be the death gotta be a change in you."

Fuck him, she thought throwing her anguish in het voice before leaning back up to scan the crowd.

"Put on my shoes for a day.

Put on my shoes for a week.

Put on my shoes for a month or two, know what I've been through."

If only she could make a spell or potion, so that Christina could understand. Understand why she gets so angry and frustrated with the woman in and outside of her own blackness. She finally finds the blonde blending in surprisingly well. Christina has a drink in hand leaning against the wall, watching her. Blue eyes sweeping across the stage as Ruby moves about the space. Instead of looking away Ruby croons out....

"Go on and have fun after all is said and done."

Someone bemoans out yes sing Ruby sing. Ruby watches Christina stare at her not breaking the tension between the two of them. If this was an empty house it would be much more obvious that Ruby had been stuck. Stuck on the way Christina clutched the glass in her hand to her lips. The way her eyes didn't waver or move from Ruby eyeing her up and down.

"Put on my shoes you'll get the blues the blues the blues if you put on my shoes."

The song starts to end and Ruby finally looks away. Her heart is beating so loudly it could probably take over for Gordy the drummer if they need be. If only Christina could know authentically how it felt to be in skin like hers. Not some misplaced gesture that could have gotten her dumb ass killed...if only. 

Christina half listens to the short woman sharing the table with her. She did not care at all what the woman was saying but she fully understood she had no power in this establishment. Magically yes, but physically she was the outsider here. If someone wanted to sit at the same table in this bar they could. This bar was thick with smoke, heat, and loud. Christina observed it all, everyone seemed at home in this small establishment. A home full of strangers that couldn't cross into Lincoln Park with that same joy and comfort. She didn't understand that feeling but she also never really had a "home" to connect to. A comfort as distant as her ability to empathize with these people.

A taller full figured woman stands next to the shorter darker one before sitting down eyeing Christina up and down. Which Christina doesn't change her one note expression for. The shorter woman is still yapping on about something and Christina flits her eyes between the two. At some point the taller one leans in and introduces herself as Celia. Christina leans in a bit to hear her and nods. Celia has a cool confidence she immediately picks up on instead of the jittery energy in between them.

"Isn't this wild Cil I've never seen a white woman walk in this place alone," the short one finally says in between winds of her story.

Celia smiles at Christina and says lowly, "Alone is right." Christina sees something in the taller woman's eye and grits her teeth a bit. She isn't alone, not really, with Ruby in the same building. But neither of them is kept and Ruby doesn't often kiss her without the pieces of William stuck to her skin. 

"What's he coming over here all fancy like for, she's just white. Not royalty." a man in the booth next to the table huffs out loud enough for Christina to hear. One purpose most likely she knows.

Christina turns and sees the owner of the bar walking over to the table with a tray holding a wine glass filled with red. A few bystanders jump out of his way or side eye him. This didn't seem like the place where people went to for a glass of wine. Sammy was his name, she remembers that from her own bits of research on her extended family. She has also heard whispers that he was or is linked to her cousin's father, in that way. He stops in front of her and places the glass on the table. 

"On the house Braithwhite." Sammy purses his lips a little at her and she crosses her eyes at him. "A request from..." the stage he mouths. She softens her look when he walks away and pulls the glass to her. Sipping it she almost laughs, it's an awful merlot that tastes like pennies. The copper taste sits on her tongue and her eyes go wide. Slipping her hand into the pockets on her dress she feels for the glass vial that should be there. After a moment of panic she feels the cold glass pulling it out a bit to ensure it's still full. It is. She sighs relief into the glass and sips it again.

The music from the band is still blaring as the crowd in front of the seating area sways and moves back and forth. No singing comes through the air and Christina leans her neck slightly to find Ruby on the stage or in the crowd. It takes a bit before a wheezy laugh proceeds and sees a man on stage with Ruby. He is swaying behind her as she holds the mic singing into the mic, 

"Could a heart so right be led so wrong if his love is weak would it last this long. I don't know but I hope and pray that he comes my way oh oh." 

Christina grips at her own thigh with the hand still sitting in her pocket.

The horn player toots out loudly and Ruby turns around lightly pushing away the tall built man behind her. It was all in good fun as the band kept playing and he sidled back up to her slipping his hands back to her waist teasingly. She hears the band transition into another song while she dances on stage. Left, right, left, right. She feels her hips sway away from the fingers resting above her dress. She recognizes this song and shakes her shoulders along to the music that's all around her. Looking back at the crowd she can see the stares that she is receiving from the men in the crowd. It is all temptation and fire from many directions but Ruby shrugs to herself. She did not come for a man, she had one of those already, which was obvious others heard about. Her core tightens thinking of that man, so adept with the way he took care of her. Where is he? She wonders looking back to the table she sent that bottom shelf wine to earlier. She sees Christina but Christina is holding a conversation with a glass half full. A conversation that Ruby blinks at, a woman, a very pretty light skinned girl is undressing Christina with her eyes. Ruby knows she can't hide the look on her face and bites her tongue. It earns her an, “Ooo gurl what's on your mind,” from the guitarist who she sees her face flare with jealousy. He’s following her gaze to the table and whistles loudly. He never thought Ruby went that way, but he didn’t know a lot about Ruby outside of rumors.

Braithwhite never looked out of place even in a place like this. She just fit in well without trying like a chameleon making herself comfortable in someone else's home. If Ruby did not know some of Christina’s truths this would concern her, but not so much now. At least even at her most sordid she was honest. The green of the dress did stand out but it felt see through to Ruby. She was pretty sure the woman on the other end could only wish for the type of knowledge she had. The alcohol and revitalized confidence in her gives her half the mind to throw her shoe from the stage. Maybe knocking Christina's eyes, that were probably not bulging as much as Ruby's liquored brain saw, back into her head. Ruby thinks better than that and sits the mic back in the stand and clears her throat into the mic.

Eyes including those blue ones find their way back to the stage. Ruby glares a bit in Christina's direction then directs her words back to the crowd. "Aight y'all this is my last song for tonight, it's something me and the boys have been cooking up."

Ruby hears the band whistle and mumble about someone having her in a mood tonight. The four count from the symbol goes off and Ruby clenches the mic letting her voice seep out,

"One man's poison is another man's meat, what's good for Johnny will kill poor Pete."

People in the cloud clap at the new sound. Folks lean up off the wall to move towards the dance area or to move with the crooning in their spot. Ruby smiles with her words as they continue. 

"I'm good at loving so make no mistake I was his gravy but I'm your steak. Kiss me baby hold me tight everything's gonna be alright."

Ruby sways her hips back and forth a bit. Christina feels her eyes getting heavy dragging up and down Ruby's frame. She catches Ruby glancing her way and licks her lips quickly before the woman turns away from her. 

"One man's evil is another man's pure, kiss me baby I want your sweet loving tonight." 

Ruby extends her leg on stage twisting it with the music as she dances with the fill of the band. Moving back to the mic she slides her hands around the tall skinny pole.

Christina empties the contents of her glass not moving her vision from Ruby. She's leaning out of her chair slightly, but tries to pull herself together. If the times allowed her to, she'd have Ruby right there on the stage and she guesses if the crowd wasn’t soaking in the way Ruby reeled them in. Ruby was full of magic and had an effect on people that Christina was sensitive to. Even the first time she heard her sing.

Ruby grins as the band keeps playing and nods to them. Which they respond with air kisses. The crowd jeers as Ruby makes her way off the stage. A man's arm outstretched guides her off the stage even though she didn't need any help. Ruby can feel fire on her skin likely from Christina at the attention from a few gentlemen as Ruby passes them on her way to the bar for a glass of water. When she makes her way towards the seating area she teasingly saunters past the table she knows the blonde is sitting at. Ruby feels the eyes outlining her from behind and hears someone excuse themselves from a table behind her. She keeps walking to the bathroom she knew was at the end of the hall. 

The sound of heels matching her stride as she opens and lets herself in the single person toilet.

Ruby swallows her moans while slowly tugging the long blonde hairs in between her fingers. Light tugs feeling soft rouged cheeks against her inner thighs. Lips kissing up against her thigh garters and stockings. Ruby exhales pulling Christina's head back up to hers.

"Is that what you wanted, sitting there pissed off because someone had your new toy."

Christina exhales feeling Ruby's nails scratch her scalp ever so. Her face is flushed, she can feel it, but she shakes out no lightly. "You aren't a toy," Christina pushes Ruby's hand away from her and leans over her. Less than inches away, "I guess I'm just a little jealous and it seems you are too." 

Ruby scoffs but doesn't deny it, instead she drinks in the way Christina looks at her. With a vigor and a hunger that makes her thighs clench against the hand there. Fingers that sting in her memories from the car stroke up and down and Ruby does something she rarely does. She leans in and pulls Christina's lips to hers.

Christina revels in the slow tongue inching along hers. Ruby's hand on the back of her head, pulls her closer, and she slaps a hand against the tile wall surrounding the mirror. She likes this Ruby whoever this Ruby is. Unattached. Christina whimpers, feeling her head shoulders pushed downward. This Ruby who kisses her even without her being William. She also feels good in Ruby who is bound and only kisses William.

"You said you'd kiss whatever I wanted Braithwhite," Ruby gathers the blonde’s hair in her hands. Sinking her red fingernails into the blonde scalp, she opens her legs wider putting more weight on the metal sink. Ruby feels her breath hitch watching Christina sink to her knees while biting her lip at Ruby's words. Christina is undoing the snap of her garter while pushing Ruby's dress further up her thighs. It's almost around her waist, but this was not the place to just strip of it completely. Ruby leans her head back in relief feeling Christina inch the lacey cotton fabric around her hips down until they are off completely. She hopes Christina tucks them in her pocket at least.

Christina sighs pushing the lacey fabric into the same pocket holding William. She lightly bites into Ruby's thigh before moving to taste her fully. There is a low shudder and the grip on her hair tightens as she dips her head forward closing her eyes to fully immerse herself in Ruby. Ruby feels the hot coils in her stomach snapping and crackling. Her free hand moves from clenching her mouth to gripping the sink. She doesn't want to ruin Christina's dress but the heel of her shoe is pressing into the blondes back. A gasp like moan escapes her mouth as a shiver runs across her collar bone.

"Oh shit," the door next to them squeaks open and shut quickly, making both Ruby and  Christina open their eyes. Christina turns her head upward to stare at Ruby. She can't say she feels any shame in her current position, but Ruby might. Ruby can only see the blue eyes peeking at her with concern and heat from the bottom of her dress. But, she feels like wetness on Christina's chin on her warm thighs. Ruby leans over to the lock on the door and twists it shut before leaning her head back on the wall. She regrips Christina's hair, "Kiss what I want."

Ruby moans out loud while music and a jazzy tune slips under the door.

“Your love is voodoo and I just can’t last. It's your voodoo working, voodoo working, voodoo working and I can't get a lick…..”

A Death Note From Hell on Earth

Your Power, What Do You Say?

I write to you not because I want anything, but because you need something. Brilliant and postulate facts unto which the scene, so savory has bestowed upon myself to make contact with you. The presumptuous forethought of one's lifestyle contains a much deeper and hidden message into their unconscious. The unsolved and recurring feeling of doubt has me puzzled to which I am not even determined at this point to uncover the worst of the worst, deepest of the deep, fear.

I hold on to what I cannot let go, but to what degree have I lost what has already been gone for sometime now? What I don’t see is the sadness, the anger, the pity, the repetition of how can you be this way? Is this how it is going to be forever? Why am I here? Why are you here? I ask this from the depths of my hellish heart, what is it that you are expecting from me? Why are you holding me back? Why am I asking these questions in thought rather than in the flesh? To cut a gangrenous limb, one must imagine the consequence before it is too late. Like a smokers dream to quit, or a soldier's thought of something better than this pain inside my gut, this keeps us moving. Love on the other hand is the promise that makes the tallest man shrink to his knees. As does the song writer who temporarily displays the piece for all to see in the most vulnerable way possible, the depths of his soul are on the floor for all to step on and toss about. Emotionally traumatizing and enticing for the poet to which he angrily plays his piano for the crowd that snickers yet claps when he pauses after his final note.

“Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails;”. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

To make love a personal insecurity is to make love a particularly violent act. To that which we conflate the idea that when one receives something that is desired, it truly isn’t enough. As time lingers on, that new thing becomes just a thing, nothing desirable anymore. The desire for desire itself is strong, strong enough to drive a man insane through lustfulness, greed or jealousy. To what can we make of this if we are all bound by the desire for desire it’s self? Shall we always rotate the crops when something becomes stale, boring, uninteresting, uninspiring ? Is it not humble to be thankful for what we have? Is it love that we crave? Is it that we truly haven’t found love, is love the completeness? As for Aristophanes, the completeness of man was the two halves, rolling around joined as one until Zeus became greedy and split us apart, forcing us to search for our other half. Is this desire for true love what we seek in place of fortune, status, aesthetics? To make love a personal insecurity leads to ressentiment toward the object of frustration. Through your lack of personality and few words, the face of anxiety that once sought to try to be a stronger, more courage’s person has fallen off the horse and into the mud to which weakness and jealousy has overcome the very beast you swore to slay. Ressentiment feeds off envy and inferiority. The crippling feeling that takes hold of you when you cross the threshold. That sickness that you wish would go away, that pain inside your chest that tightens every time you remember that you have a tightness in your chest because you are an emotional cripple. You face it every waking moment, it becomes a part of your routine, breathe, breathe. The corner of your vision becomes blurred, breathe, breathe. The sound becomes much louder, breathe, breathe. You fall down into the darkest abyss to which it is so deep all he can do is stand above and watch you, call your name and render it is okay, while you slowly drag him down with you.

Breathe softly and not so violently for the scene has ended and act II has already begun. Between the blinds you peak through, what have you got to do or say to give yourself peace of mind? To focus not on Achilles arrow when it was released from his bow, or even to where it hit its target, but what happened in between is the world of becoming, the restlessness that pumps through your veins. Instead you reside in the world of being. Stagnation at its finest. Breathe, breathe. You seek matrimony, instead you need therapy. You briefly display a life of joy to those you haven’t even met, yet you cannot even speak to those around you for your tongue doesn’t move. The younger and more vigorous side of you has yet to emerge and become. Until then, breathe, breathe.

Be that I’m not so naive, to feel that anguish, pain, suffering, loneliness, anxiety should be washed away with the thoughts of anti-nihilistic messages of becoming, we will all feel and have the worst days throughout the courses of our lives. The question becomes, to what degree?

We are all psychotic when we have inner dialogue with ourselves, making jokes or laughing inside our heads. But the psychosis, is to what degree? Depression, we all have felt sad or depressed at points to where we can’t even get out of bed due to heart ache and isolation tends to soothe the pain temporarily. The question is to to what degree are we depressed? For this observation being so very true to the human condition, we are all prone to expect a life of anguish and strife. Not only with the ones around you, but ultimately with yourself. You must pull up your anchor and sail into uncharted seas, live dangerously and stray away from looking at life through the lens of the photographer, become the photographer. Be not the brush that meets the painter's canvas, be the painter. Break from your dull pale shell, become what you hope to be. If you may fall short know that it was all in good cause. The broken homes, the hyper-religious parents, the strung out friends all add the the lengthy list that becomes either your demise or your prosperity. To feel anguish is too be what we call human. But to understand the structure and meaning behind the anguish is the spark that makes you different. To feed off that is too be a God in your own right. To be is to become, and to not become is to be content.

Burn your self help books, torch them and brush away the ashes as does the adventurer when he puts out his fire in the morning and makes way for the peak. Be the one who does for themselves, not for others. Don’t give your self “10 ways to live your life” overcome your limitations. If you parish, parish on the side of the mountain with the banner in hand that reads “Excelsior!” You are all you need, the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be to die.

~Hyperion~

im still behind schedule but give it up for day 4!!!

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 4 - I’D GIVE ANYTHING

“So you’re leaving today?”

Rapunzel sits on the edge of Cassandra’s bed as early morning sunshine streams through the windows, flooding the room in a warm light that seeps like honey. It’s a little emptier now; Owl is waiting in the stables with Fidella, her travelling bags are packed up and set aside neatly by the door, half of Cass’s tiny personal armoury is gone. Most of the damage from the black rocks has been mended, and the new mismatched flooring is hidden beneath a deep red rug. Even the bed is bare, the sheets folded up neatly at the foot; it’s a blank canvas, save for the torn lady-in-waiting headdress folded neatly on her bare pillow.

“Yeah, this afternoon. My dad is taking me to some old fishing cabin. We’re going to spend a few days there, talk through stuff, spend some time together… and then after that, I’m on my own.”

Cass emerges from behind the divider set up in the corner of the room. She looks like a new woman. These last few weeks have been spent taking care of her health, working her back up to a healthy weight. Once the moonstone was gone, it became evident just how malnourished her body was after almost a year of neglecting any physical needs, running on magic alone. Now, however, the colour is back in her cheeks, and she looks… happy. So, so happy.

The outfit she’s wearing is one Rapunzel helped her pick out last week, once she broke the news that she was planning to go on a journey to clear her head and try to reevaluate her destiny. Rapunzel isn’t about to pretend it doesn’t hurt, seeing her in that green tunic and dark, dramatic cape; for as stunning as she is right now, Rapunzel knows in a matter of hours she’ll be gone.

“Do you have all your maps? Your cartography gear?”

“Sure do. The essentials are all packed. I promise you, I won’t get lost in the woods.”

“You’d better not, after I gifted you that new compass,” Rapunzel jokes, but her laughter catches a little in her throat, burns in her chest. Cass smiles, tugging a mismatched pair of gloves on. The one covering her weaker hand is lined with… some kind of metal? It looks closer to a gauntlet of sorts, than the simple leather glove on her other hand.

Cass catches her staring and explains, “It’s sturdier this way. It’ll give my wrist some extra support.” She wanders over to the mirror and stops, taking in her reflection with a sharp inhale.

“Damn,” she whispers to herself. “I’m ready to take on the world.”

“You are. You’re going to be so great out there.” Rapunzel wants to be happy for Cass, she really does. And there certainly is a part of her cheering that Cassandra is going to move forward with her life, seize the day, live her life to the fullest.

But they need to set the record straight before she can move on to feeling that way.

“Hey, um… I want to talk about something, before you leave.”

“Talk about what?” she asks distantly, still admiring her reflection, face flushed with pride.

“…Cass, are we in a relationship?”

Cass pauses. Slowly she turns to face Rapunzel, leaning back against it, uncaring of how her fabric smudges the glass. Her face is pinched.

“Wh… where is this coming from?” She folds her arms uneasily, pursing her lips before continuing, “Our friends know how things are between us. I mean, Eugene is fine with it, and I never expected him to be so on board.”

“He is, and I’m grateful for that, but… I just think that we should talk about this properly. There are some big changes coming our way, you know?”

“Look,” Cassandra sighs, reaching up to drag a hand through her hair, “I know that we may have – I don’t know, gone into things a little too fast given what happened, but… I thought we were on the same page.”

“We are , believe me! But it’s just one page of a huge book! There’s… a lot of things we need to figure out. We’ve been through a lot and then there’s still so much more to come.”

She reaches for the headdress, folding and unfolding it in her lap as she talks. It’s easier to talk to a simple piece of cloth than the woman in front of her; the woman she loves, so badly it hurts. The woman whose eyes don’t tell how she’s feeling.

Cassandra takes a step closer, and mutters, “I thought we’d already gotten through the hard parts.”

“The hardest part is yet to come, Cass. You’re leaving.” Rapunzel hugs herself. “You’re going somewhere I know that I can’t follow you, and you’ve only just come back into my life… I’ll really miss you. I miss you already.”

“I’ll miss you too, Raps. You know I will.” Cass watches her with a guarded expression. “But you know I have to do this.”

“I do. Of course I do, I – I just wonder where I’ll fit into your life, once you leave.”

“What do you mean?” Cass’s face scrunches in confusion. “Rapunzel, I’ll still think of you. I’ll still write. I’ll come back to visit in due time, I’m sure, so… I don’t understand what the problem is here.”

“Cass, you're going to go so far,” Rapunzel says, trying to tactfully voice these fears, in a way that doesn’t create more harm than good. “You'll see so many new places, meet so many interesting people! You'll meet girls. So I just... I've been thinking about how much you matter to me – how much I matter to you – and... well, are we? In a relationship?”

She can't bring herself to look at Cass when no reply comes. But she hears a sigh, and Cassandra moves to sit on the bed beside her. She reaches over and cups the back of Rapunzel's head, gently tilting it to face her. There's no frustration or anguish in her expression like Rapunzel had feared: only an exasperated fondness.

“You're jealous of all the pretty girls I'm going to leave swooning in my wake once I'm on the open road?” she asks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Yeah! Shouldn't I be? You're beautiful!” She shakes her head away as Cass's lips pull into a grin, and scowls. “Besides, you aren't like me when it comes to love. If you met someone who you really liked, you would – you would want to be with her instead.”

“Raps,” Cassandra interrupts, and Rapunzel can hear the eye-roll as she talks, “while I appreciate your valiant effort to love and let me go, I'm a little hurt that you think some pretty girl I might meet out on the road would undo all of my feelings for you.”

“Cass – no, I'm not saying that. At least, I don't think I am?” Rapunzel huffs in frustration. “I just want to know where we stand before you leave, so if you do meet someone and you want to be with her... I can find a way to let you go.”

“Again, Raps, I'm grateful for the sacrifice you're making,” Cass continues mildly, “but did you ever stop to think that maybe, no matter how many beautiful strangers might cross my path, it won't matter a whit because I have you and you’re more than enough for someone like me?”

Rapunzel's lips quiver, trying to formulate a response, while Cass waits patiently for her next move.

“...So we are in a relationship now?”

“I mean... I thought we already were.” Now it's Cassandra's turn to look away shyly. “But then you asked, and I didn't want to seem too sure if you weren't sure.”

“I am sure,” Rapunzel says quickly, reaching for her hands. “More sure than anything that I want to be with you, Cass. But I know that it’s a lot, asking you to share me with Eugene, so…”

“He can give you things I can’t, I know that. And that goes both ways,” Cass points out, squeezing her hands. “Besides, he’s just about the only person I trust to look out for you while I’m off chasing fate, so… If you’re okay with it, so am I.”

Rapunzel laughs, but it feels wet, almost choking her. She moves a hand up, cupping Cassandra’s cheek and leaning forward to meet for a kiss in the middle. They haven’t really… kissed before. There’s maybe been one or two quick pecks, fuelled by joy at having her back. Perhaps the occasional forehead or hand kiss, in the heat of the moment. But this is something different, and wow, it sets all her senses alight.

Cass shivers a little as they kiss, seemingly also overwhelmed by the notion of finally getting to kiss her girl. Her hands move hesitantly down to hold Rapunzel’s waist. It goes on for a little while, until they inevitably have to pull away to catch their breath; and when Rapunzel opens her eyes, she realises she can barely see through her tears.

“Woah, Raps.” Cass scrambles for a handkerchief to wipe Rapunzel’s tears.

“I’m sorry,” Rapunzel sniffles, “I just – I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Aw, Raps, don’t,” Cass says pleadingly, with a lopsided grin as she continues to clean Rapunzel’s face. “I’m happy too, but I still have to go.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Rapunzel says, and darn, her voice trembles as she says it. She shuts her eyes tight. “I keep thinking about how I almost lost you, and I’m just… so glad you’re here and you’re alive and you're not g-giving up on yourself-”

More tears spill over, but Cassandra’s hand is still.

Rapunzel isn’t dense. She knows that Cass still thinks about it all too: the devastation in her words and her tears as she fell into Rapunzel’s arms that fateful day, so weak from the loss of the moonstone and the realisation that she’d lost the war with herself. She’d been so small in that moment, so powerless, so close to giving up completely.

Rapunzel knows that Cass still grapples with that notion sometimes, even on a day like today when her spirits are soaring: that perhaps she should have stayed dead, after all was said and done, because of the destruction and despair that lay in her wake. It’s a feeling that they haven’t talked about properly, because how do they come back from that? Where does a conversation like that go? This is the only way she can express an ounce of the pain she feels, that Cass was ever small and alone and gone … and perhaps it is selfish of her, to drag this up the very day Cassandra will leave and she will stay. But if she doesn’t tell her here and now just how grateful she is for everything, she’s afraid the right moment will never come back.

“I’d give anything for you,” Rapunzel reiterates tearfully, reaching up to hold the hand cradling her cheek. “I’d go to any lengths, happily, if it means you’ll live each day like your last.”

“Rapunzel…” Cass’s voice wavers with grief. “It’s because of you that I’m here today at all. I… I never thanked you properly, for never giving up on me. But I’d give anything for you too. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Rapunzel whispers. She leans forward and Cass pulls her in, cradling her in her arms as she weeps for a while. She needed to get it out of her system, she knows now; there will be plenty of other times she’ll cry over Cassandra’s absence, but to cry in celebration of her life, relief that she’s still here to greet each day, is something she has to do right here and now, just to share that emotion with the woman she loves.

Cass rocks her without another word, and when Rapunzel is finally all cried out, she’s there to clean her face. Her eyes are a little damp too, but doesn’t seem to pay mind to it. Rapunzel glances down at the headdress in her lap and reaches for it, unfurling it and holding it to her chest for a moment.

“Is that…?”

“When I found it – you had torn through it with a black rock, and I couldn’t bear to leave it. I’m glad you didn’t throw it out.”

“Well, it was folded up so nicely when I returned to my room that night,” Cass points out. “Clearly whoever did that cares for it more than I ever have, so I figured maybe it could stay. It could be your memento for when I’m gone.”

“Cass, I already see you everywhere in this castle, I don’t need a physical reminder of where we started.” Rapunzel holds it up to Cassandra’s left arm and begins to wind it round. “You, on the other hand, need a piece of me with you, wherever you go.”

Cassandra shivers again, and Rapunzel risks a glance up at her as she secures it with a knot. Her face is a little flushed. “A lady’s favour, huh?”

“Is it, now? Well, I guess that’s just as well,” Rapunzel says, grinning up at her. “Gotta send a message out to all those girls who will be falling at your feet.”

“You really do overestimate my charisma,” Cass retorts, shaking her head. She holds out her arm, admiring the new addition to her outfit. “You know, I never thought I’d say this about my goddamn headdress, but… I don’t hate it.”

Rapunzel beams and rises to her feet, leaning down slightly to press a soft kiss to Cassandra’s brow. Cass leans into the touch, exhaling.

“I’m going to go find Eugene. Give you a chance to check over your stuff one last time.” She pulls away and heads towards the door, before turning back. Cass is still sitting there, eyes glassy, watching Rapunzel’s every step. “Come find me before you leave, all right? So we can have a proper goodbye.”

“I – yeah, I will, Raps,” Cass promises. Her hand grazes the lady’s favour, as if still processing what it all means. Her face is still rosy, and Rapunzel can’t help but giggle at the spectacle of it. “You can count on it.”

Stepsister, by Jennifer Donnelly: an emotional, messy review.

Recommended For: fantasy, ya, feminist, fairy tale, coming of age stories, girl protagonist, adventure lovers

         This will be as close to a spoiler-free review as I can make it.

"It's the hunger in our hearts that kills us."

Have you ever read a book that so thoroughly encompassed everything you ever wanted to put on paper? That ripped into the deepest part of you and dragged you along by your emotions until you're raw and hopeful and shattered and fired up all at once? Because I just have.

The Summary:

“Isabelle should be blissfully happy - she's about to win the handsome prince. Except Isabelle isn't the beautiful girl who lost the slipper and captured the prince's heart. She's the ugly stepsister who cut off her toes to fit into Cinderella's shoe... which is now filling with blood.

When the prince discovers Isabelle's deception, she's turned away in shame. It's no more than she deserves. She cut away pieces of herself in order to become pretty. Sweet. More like Cinderella. But that only made her mean, jealous, and hollow. Now she has a chance to alter her destiny and prove what ugly stepsisters have always known:

It takes more than heartache to break a girl."

My Thoughts:

Isabelle is not pretty. She's jealous and she struggles and while she fiercely loves her sister she often feels lost and afraid, or angry and hateful to the world that left her behind. She cut off her toes because her absolutely mad mother demanded it, heating a knife over the fire while she berates her into obeying, and as a result Isabelle's bitterness and jealousy might even kill her. But as the story unfolds she's also breathtakingly passionate and brave and confident and fiery, and she grows a lot over the course of the story, learning to set aside what everyone else has labeled her (and indeed sometimes what she's labeled herself because of their cruelty), to become her own woman. She's strong and real and well written, and I love her. I want to be her. Goddamn I want every girl to be her. To be their own Elizabeth, Yennenga, Abhaya Rani. Strong, brave, dangerous. Beautiful in their own right, and not always on the surface like the world wants.

"Each queen was once a girl like you. Told who to be and what to do. Not pretty, not pleasing, far too rough. Til wounded subjects, anguished dead, mattered more than things the others said. Then, like a flag, her will unfurled. Go now, girl. Remake the world."

UUUGHhhh. Can we just talk about this book PLEASE? Can this get more of a following so I can scream and rave and flail and ugly cry with more people who loved this book? Oh my god. There are so many things about this book I like, from the way she fought for and protected her sister, to the way she grew to see past the jealousy her mother instilled in her against Ella, to the way it doesn't pit the girls against each other for their vastly different strengths. Well, except for one, but I'll get to that.

The book opens up on what has to be one of the most heart-wrenching, cringe-worthy scenes I've ever read in a young adult novel, and it's that scene with the cutting of the feet and the bloody shoes (yes, from the original myth, this ain't no Disney remake, y'all, it gets gory and doesn't hide from it) is what made me actually come back and buy the book. Isabelle had me by the heartstrings the whole goddamn read. For a girl who never grew up as conventionally attractive, who was always too loud or too brash or never had the right interests (witchcraft, necromancy, and vampires, anyone? No? Don't hide your cringe years from me, I know you had them too), seeing a book properly take these oddities and this 'ugliness', and teach a young woman to learn to accept and even love these things about herself, even though it doesn't get her what she's been told she has to want, but instead pushes her to find her own path? Ugh. Yes. Give me a thousand more of these stories, I could do this all day.

Also, boyfriend cries and has open, deep emotions. What?? A young man in touch with his feelings, that doesn't have to be physically strong to be a good man, that is allowed to be physically weak and emotionally open, and have his own strengths and weaknesses that don't boil down to a six pack and a brooding personality? In a YA FANTASY BOOK?! Hold me.

I rooted for Isabelle the whole way though. I cringed with her, I held my breath, I cheered, I finished the book emotionally exhausted and ready to fucking fight. I haven't felt this pumped up after consuming a story or a piece of media since I went to see Captain Marvel for the first time in theaters, and hot damn, y'all, woman-centric stories that don't revolve around the approval of a man or the need to be petty and spiteful to other women are my jam . I will absolutely be shoving this book in the face of every woman, teenage girl, and preteen female I know, all but begging them to give this book a shot. I read the whole thing in one sitting, the same day I bought it just as a way to pass the time and... mmmm.

I'm gonna try and keep this as spoiler-free as possible, just because I don't want to give anything away, but yeah. On to the genuine criticisms.

Honestly? I didn't have that many. There were a couple of places where I was kind of annoyed, like the catty girl in the village that I wanted rid of, but the way it was handled in relation to Isabelle's story makes me more forgiving, if only for the way she learns to control her temper and not goad more fights out of people that don't really need an excuse. It bothers me that she has to just sit there and take it for her sister's sake, but... maybe that's just because it hits too close to home for some of us. It's a relatively small part of the book and I'm really not too fussed in the long run.

One thing that did throw me at first was the inclusion of the other points of view, like the skip from Isabelle's first chapter in the beginning to the introduction of "Chance," whose band of miscreants and misfits is a little distracting at first, but ultimately entertaining once you figure out how they're involved, and who serves as a sort of 'greater story' framing device for the real world conflicts taking place in the background. "Chance" and "Fate's" cat and mouse game ended up being one of my favorite parts of the underlying tensions in the story, and really helped drive home how make or break Isabelle's ultimate path was, even after she ended up going in a direction no one, not even herself, expected in the end. But it really added to the whole "we make our own path and only we can tell our story" message that ended up getting told as the underlying themes for the whole book. And I can thank it for that.

Right. Now. The big block quote I used up above. Chance decides he needs to tip the scales somewhat, and his whole part of the narrative so far as Isabelle can tell is as a rich eccentric trying to get his misfits and servants to help him put on a play. The play ends up... less a play, and more an inspirational third act speech meant to give Isabelle the push she needs to go and 'do the thing!', and as such it's... kind of cheesy, in hindsight. But at the same time while wrapped up in the story I didn't really notice it save to get super emotional and flaily about how many names were on that list that weren't centered around white western history, and I'm totally here for it. I am absolutely down with the cheese if it brings about the good feels, and the bolster to Isabelle's courage it gave delivered.

I also really like that one of the men driving the story kept pushing that love was what she needed, and automatically brought in a boy to do the job, but it ended up being Isabelle's love for her horse, herself, and her family, and the forgiveness of her step-sister, that really did the trick. Thank you so much Jennifer Donnelly, for not making this be about a man.

I really wish this review could do it more justice, but I'm pushing the limits of my word count as it is, and I don't want to risk repeating the ugly, happy blubbering I was doing at the end of the story. Suffice it to say I ABSOLUTELY recommend this book to anyone who likes fairy tales, feminist stories, girl-centered stories, coming of age stories, fantasies, everyone, really. I can't sum it up any better than Jennifer Donnelly herself in the forward of this book: "To everyone who's ever felt like they're not enough."

SNIIIIFFF. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat a pint of ice cream and watch Xena: Warrior Princess reruns with my puppy. Peace!

Red + Blue = Purple

submitted by autumn

Day 1

it’s my first fanfic/story, and it’s not as long as I would like but hope you enjoy!

--mod ana commenting real quick: i think i caught all the author notes for correction but if i’m wrong, please notify me thank you

Keith’s POV Yet again, we are fighting another Galra fleet. I can’t count how many we have defeated by now, and we have not had ONE break or relaxation time. It’s just been constant, eat, sleep, then fight. It’s like a never ending battle, which it basically is by this point. 

(More after the break!)

What gets me however- “Ring Ring! Schmoopsy poo! I’ve missed you!” - is Lance’s “girl friend.” “LANCE!” the team shouts for the umpteenth time. “Yeesh, sorry, I’m just talking to my girlfriend, no need to shout!” The first time it was fine, the second time inconvenient, the third annoying, and the twentieth time, in the middle of battle, is an major issue. 

“Lance, you need to tell your..girlfriend…to stop calling when we are fighting the Galra!” So please wait until we are back at the castle.“ Shiro replies clearly fed up with the whole situation.

Wait, did he say Schmoopsy poo? What the heck! I decide to voice my thoughts, “Schmoopsy poo, seriously Lance?”

“At least I have a girlfriend!” “Team! Focus! And Lance, hang up already!” They decide to form Voltron however they don’t even get a chance to fight because the Galra immediately flee when they see the giant robot. “Seriously!” Pidge exclaims,“We fight them for hours and they don’t even have the gal to finish the fight!?” “At least we can finally relax.” Hunk sighs. The lions head back to the castle. In the hanger everyone makes their way to the control room where Allura is waiting. They all head their, albeit very slowly, but eventually get there, whilst dragging their feet. They all have dark bags, frazzled hair, and look very worn out. Even the immaculate Lance looks tired. “Paladins, I’ve decided that we all need a break, so we won’t fight any more Galra unless it’s an emergency.” Allura states, looking quite worn herself. On cue, Lance’s girlfriend, cecilia, calls again. I head to my room intending to get some rest, when Lance bumps into my shoulder, too busy talking to Cecilia. I growl in annoyance and enter my room flopping on my bed. It feels like i’m sleeping in the clouds, maybe i’ll even get more than four hours of sleep. My eyelids start to get heavier and heavier, then bed swallowing me in it’s warm embrace, and blanket weighing me down further..“.lance…ove..ou….schmoo…”…ugh…I slowly start to wake up. The first thing I notice is that Lance is on the phone talking to someone. At 2 in the morning! Unfortunately, my room is right next to Lance’s, and he is talking so loud that I can hear him through the walls! I walk to his room and, politely, knock on the door,“Shut up Lance! Some people are trying to sleep!” Lance pokes his head out the door, whispering so he doesn’t bother the others, (yet he has no problem bothering me). “Shhh! I’m talking to Cecilia!” “And I’m trying to sleep!” “Then you should have thought of that before waking up, it’s not my problem, now shoo!” He waves his hand in a shooing motion. Something snaps… “Did you just…shoo me? Seriously! Are you fucking serious! I am so fed up with your shit! Why the hell are you even with her! You can’t possibly think it’ll last, she literally live on another fucking planet! Just break up already!” Keith yells. In hindsight he could have said it more nicely. “What do you know!” Lance shouts, “You have no right to tell me who I can or can’t date! I love her! Can’t you understand that?!” “This is not love, it’s just a little crush that is a burden to everyone.” Keith states calmly expecting Lance to understand. “What the fuck do you know! You’ve never loved anybody! You’re cold hearted and selfish! Hell, nobody loves or has ever loved you! That’s why  you’re an orphan!” Lance yells, then his eyes widen in horror as he realizes what he just said. He sees Keiths wide teary eyes, mouth slightly open in shock, looking at Lance in anguish. Keith lowers his head in acceptance, shadows covering his eyes as a tear slides down his pale cheek. Lance reaches out his hand feeling his insides twist in guilt, “Keith, I-” “You’re right, no one’s ever loved me, not even my parents.” Keith whispers, voice hoarse, then desperately runs off down the hall, tears trailing in his wake. “Wait, I’M…i’m…sorry…so sorry…i’m so so sorry.” Lance sinks to his knees leaning on the door frame. Eyes misty, he curls up and harshly tugs his hair in self-hatred. This is how Shiro finds Lance as he walks around the corner, probably hearing Lance and Keith earlier. Shiro kneels next to Lance features softening into understanding,. “If you need to talk about it, i’m here for you."After a small pause he asks, "Did you have a fight with Cecilia?” “No..I-I yelled at Keith and said..something…horrible. I don’t even know why!” “What did you fight about?” Shiro inquires softly. Lance quietly explains,“I think I woke Keith up and…a-and I yelled at him saying that he…h-he…he’s never been in a…relationship..so how could he understand!” Lance laughs hollowly, “What’s funny is that i’m not in a relationship, never was, I just….was jealous and I wanted him to feel jealous or something for once besides hate.” “Look, Lance, Keith doesn’t hate you, even now. He’s more sensitive than you know and doesn’t know how to interact well with others. He’s afraid of being rejected or hurt or hurting someone else, so he never even gives them a chance. But with Voltron, us, he’s finally opening up, and he has greater feelings for you than you know.” “Well, I just smashed those feelings into smithereens. I don’t know what to do Shiro, how can I possibly make up for what i’ve done? I told him nobody loves him, but I..I lied…I…what should I do?” “Well for starters we need to find him and you need to apologize and tell him how you feel.” Shiro starts standing up, taking Lance’s hand to help him up as well. “Okay,” Sniff,“I’ll do that, but where did he go?” Hunk and Pidge walk around the corner and see Lance and Shiro. “Hey guys, why are you up so late?” “Hunk, Pidge, can you help us find Keith, he’s very upset right now and i’m worried.” says Shiro “I saw him run down the hall a while ago.” Hunk yawns. “I’ll hack the cameras and see where he went.” Pidge states, pushing up their glasses. They watch on Pidges computer as Keith heads in a seemingly random direction, then enters a vent. The rest of the paladins decide to split up in order to cover more ground. Lance wanders aimlessly, thinking about his actions and where Keith could possibly have gone. Suddenly, he remembers one time Keith took him to the top of one of the towers saying how he sometimes goes there when he feels overwhelmed. The blue paladin sprints down halls ways trying to remember how to get to the tower. Finally, he finds a purple door painted with flowers. As he scales the long winding stair, Lance can’t help but think he feels like a knight rescuing a princess. He cracks a sardonic smile at that thought, he sure doesn’t act like a knight, and that is going to stop. He is going to admit his feeling, consequences be damned. Reaching the last step, he hesitates, then squares his shoulders and opens the door. He stands in awe of the beauty of the place. Purple flowers swaying without wind, petals floating on calm music with a tone of sadness.There, in the middle of the field, Keith is hunched over, head buried in his arms. The flowers almost glow around Keith giving him an ethereal beauty. However, Lance notices the shaking of Keith’s shoulders, and a chocked sob that wrenches at his soul. He has never seen Keith cry, and in his heart he resolves to make sure the red paladin never cries from sadness again. Lance slowly approaches, carefully avoiding crushing the flowers. He kneels behind Keith and reaches his arms around the black haired pilot, gently embracing him. Keith gasps as he snaps his head up towards Lance. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, and I don’t expect you to forgive me but, I wanted to tell you that people do love you. The whole team loves you Keith.” “How do I know you’re not lying. No one’s ever loved me before, as you said. How do I know you’re telling the truth?"Keith tries curling up tighter to distance himself from Lance. "Because Keith, I…I love you…more than a friend or brother…I love love you, I have for a while now, and i’m sorry I deceived everyone, but I was never in a relationship."Lance explains, wrapping his arms tighter around the other paladin. He can hear the others fast heart beat and erratic breathing. Lance sees how Keith’s eyes are red and puffy, but a glimmer of hope is there and Lance grasps the chance like a life line. He tilts Keith’s chin up, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Keith freezes in shock, then tears fall again and he kisses back with fervor. Lance brushes his tongue against Keith’s lips, and the later gasps allowing a deeper kiss. They stay there a while embracing the other surrounded in a field of purple flowers. They lay down and look up at the sky, stars reflect in Lance’s eyes as he softly grasps Keith’s hand. Feeling for the first time truly loved, Keith lets one more tear roll down his face, landing on the petal of a blue flower intertwined with a red. ~The End (sorry if it seems rushed or if somethings wrong, I wrote this in under 4 hours, although I have been planning this for a while. I also didnt edit it. I might go back and add much more some other time. Hope you enjoyed it though! I know I enjoyed some of the others!)

wizards of mickey magicstone

Well the “aaaaays” have it. Before I begin, a little bit about Wizards of Mickey for those who are wondering what the hell that is and that is essential to understanding what I thought up.

Short version is, a short-lived Disney series about a fantasy AU where everyone's a wizard. Everyone's a wizard, EVERYONE, pluto's got magic, fuck even the dragons were wizards. Anyway, Magica and two original characters for the comic were recurring villains – Neraja, the hot tall one, who's boyfriend got turned into a beast, and Garma, the old short one, who just wanted power. Magica, no great shock, wanted money. These three teamed up to join a tournament but good lord they hated each other, pretty much constantly back-stabbing each other and making you wonder why they thought this was a goddamn good idea at all.

Anyway, as for Gladstone, he didn't really have a role, so far as I remember. Just a panel appearance where he tried to woo Daisy in a flashback, and that was about it. Thus, it lets me headcanon like hell.

Get it? Got it? Good, onto the ideas, under the cut because knowing me this is gunna get long.

Long after the tournament, the three witches are still looking for ways to obtain their goals, reluctantly sticking together. Traveling in the desert, Magica spots a body in one of the dunes, and heads on over, thinking maybe there's a wallet she can grab, with the other two witches following suit. But when she kneels down to check him over, he momentarily wakes, dizzily says “You're... beautiful” then passes back out.

(A few studio ghibli fans just squinted and look it's a cute as hell intro SUE ME)

Magica and Neraja are more than willing to just keep going, but Garma gives him a once-over with her magic and gasps in shock – this man is magically gifted with magicells! (“... with what” “OH MY GOD DON'T YOU TWO EVER LISTEN WHEN I TEACH YOU THINGS”) In other words, he can become a familiar! (“... a what” “GODDAMMIT COME ON”) Garma explains that the man has a rare magical anomaly called “magicells” where every single cell of his body is amplified with powerful magic, making him stronger than the average user. This kind of phenomenon is a one in a million chance, but as a result it can be hard to control and takes a physical toll on him. If a witch/warlock could make him their familiar, the witch/warlock's own magical power would increase ONE HUNDRED FOLD! HOT DAMN LET'S DO THIS -

Except, Garma points out, there are two conditions. First, a familiar can only be assigned to one person. Second, the to-be-familiar has to sign a physical contract willingly with their own blood, the name of the witch/warlock they will belong to. They decide to figure out how later and drag him to their makeshift home, each one planning to make the guy their own familiar. Magica tries to scheme – Neraja's a real beauty, so she can't beat her there (and assumes that when the guy was saying “you're beautiful” he meant Neraja), and Garma's the powerhouse, so she can't work there either. So, take away seduction and fear... pity and guilt, that's the ticket! Magica reads the man's mind, and poofs herself into his ideal woman (the matilda look!)

The man eventually regains consciousness, calling himself Gladstone Gander. He'd been heading to his uncle's kingdom when the magicells took their toll on him and he passed out sooner than expected. He's... very suspicious of these women who keep fighting over his company, though they don't tell him why. He's got a twisted ankle they refuse to heal, so he has to wait out. Neraja's seduction tactics don't work on him (helps that her beast boyfriend keeps getting jealous and dragging him away) and Garma doesn't scare him, since his good luck keeps saving his hide. In comes Magica, making up a sob story about how she's forced to work for those two in a Cinderella situation, which Gladstone only partially buys.

“I'll take such good care of you, poor dear~! How about a cup of tea~?”

“Hm, yeah, that'd be nice.” “Okay, I'll-”

“With a pinch of sugar, a dallop of milk, and you've got honey, don't you?” “... Uh, yeah, I can-”

“And don't forget the lemon squeeze, and then you can fluff my pillows, and how about getting some music in here?”

“... /URGE TO MURDER RISES/”

So, yeah, no surprise, Gladstone is a goddamn terrible houseguest, driving them all up the wall. But that allows him to see the 'real' Magica when she loses her temper, and bit by bit he actually does begin to feel sorry for her. When his leg is healed, he asks Magica why she doesn't just... up and leave these two. Magica pauses – why DOESN'T she leave these nutjobs? They keep trying to kill each other, and they constantly get in the way. So she slips Neraja and Garma sleeping spells in their drinks, and escapes with him. She's still determined to get him as a familiar, so she's not leaving his side anytime soon.

As they journey to Scrooge's kingdom, it's backstory time! Gladstone reveals he's been used time and time again for his “good luck”, a.k.a his magicells, so he's pretty much given up on having any meaningful relationships. (And having a job, but that's just because he's fucking lazy) Magica admits that she grew up poor, and her parents tried to marry her off to a rich man so they could move up in society. Young Magica said “screw this” and took off, deciding that if she was going to be rich, it'd be by her own terms and her own happiness. Gladstone is wondering why Magica is still sticking around him if he's not trying to use her, and she keeps lying, saying she wants to be his friend. Of course, day by day, it becomes a little less of a lie...

Kingdom get! While Magica is trying to think of a way to make Gladstone sign the contract, she spots Neraja and Garma in the corner of her eye! Crap, they must have chased after them to get Gladstone!! But if Gladstone knows they were followed, he'd suspect something was up!!! She has to distract him and make sure the women pass on by, WHAT DO?! In a moment of desperation, she does the classic trick, the Fake Out Make Out – yanking in Gladdy for a big ol' smooch while the women walk on by, oblivious to the couple. Magica will apologize later, once it's over... and... uh... why is it... not over yet...???

Little hard to do the Fake Out part when the other partner isn't faking – Gladstone is returning the hell out of that kiss, much to Magica's shock (and enjoyment let's be real here) and when they finally remember to breathe, he asks to see the REAL her – yeah, he put two and two together that the black-haired beauty and the blonde in front of him are one and the same. Magica flusters WAIT A SECOND I THOUGHT BLONDES WERE YOUR TYPE??? “a guy can have more than one type :3” well isn't this awkward. Gladstone still hasn't figured out the familiar deal and Magica's finding it harder to talk about it.

They stay in Gladstone's place, and Magica has to leave just to get her thoughts together and understand what's going in her head. But Neraja sees Magica leaving, and sees a chance to get Gladstone for herself! She magically disguises herself as Magica (except in super sexy clothes) and strolls back in to seduce Gladstone, who is VERY STARTLED BY AMGICA IN SEXY CLOTHES BUT NOT REALLY COMPLAINING BECAUSE HE'S THE WORST. Thankfully Poe, Magica's raven, notices something's amiss, especially with that familiar beast outside – he nicks a piece of fur from its back and flies for his mistress, who instantly understands and runs back! Gladstone, meanwhile, is starting to get an idea that something's not right (NOOO REALLY) but Neraja's got her magic set in him now, good and hypnotized, ready to sign the contract... when Magica bursts in GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM and magic battle! Which... blows off a wall, sorry Gladstone you didn't need that, right??? But all this destruction catches Garma's attention, and she summons up painful vines to trap Magica, Neraja and Gladstone.

Pained consent is still consent, right? Details shmetails. Garma uses the vines to give Gladstone pain while telling him that Magica was using him all alone for the contract deal, much to Magica's anguish, since she can't really deny it. Gladstone hands his head... bitterly laughs... of course... why should this have been different? … Hey, Garma, whatever your name is... if I sign this thing of yours... can you erase my memories...?

Yeah sure, why not. Garma holds up the magic contract, pricking Gladstone's finger, watching him sign. Magica screams, having never been so angry in her life... why couldn't you two HAVE LEFT WELL ENOUGH ALONE?! In fact, she gets so pissed off she breaks free from the vines and begins DELIVERING THE PAIN TO GARMA. Neraja manages to catch a glimpse at the contract, and what a surprise – Gladstone spelled Magica's name instead! So his power is being shared with hers! Awww. Also oh fuck because she's nexy, with Magica finally kicking both of them out of the kingdom and threatening to RIP THE FLESH FROM THEIR BONES IF SHE EVER SEES THEM AGAIN!

… and once she calms down, uh, wait, why did you sign my name, aren't you mad as hell at me??? For using you??? Yes, yes he is, but he figured if hes going to be used by someone, it may as well be with the “cute one”. GOD GLADSTONE YOU ARE ANNOYING AS HELL she's not blushing shut the hell up. … oh and scrooge wants to know WHY HIS KINGDOM HAS A FUCKING HUGE HOLE IN IT so here come adventures where Magica and Gladstone have to travel around and pay him back oops.

… sometime later when reading Gladstone learns that the “familiar spell” wasn't originally called that, and thousands of years ago it was a ritual so that a witch/warlock could share their power with their significant other as a way to help those they loved most – in other words, it was a wedding ritual. Uh... let's not tell Magica that for a while...

(the end hope you enjoyed it, now off I go to think of a witch/incubus magicstone nonsense and mickeyminnie pinocchio au I don't know how to think normally)

Really loving your ST fanfics! As a prompt, could you please write an au where Mike actually sees Eleven at the school and catches up to her in time? Keep the amazing content coming! :D

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, it was like a magnet or something pulling on my board. I know that sounds crazy—"

The confusion on her face is unmistakable and, from what Mike’s seen, kind of warranted. Since she’s already shown she’s really good on it. He also saw how she kicked. Her board is halfway towards the door. He looks up and isn’t surprised that it’s empty. But the door is pushed inwards, just enough like someone shoved themselves away from it. In a hurry. Someone who could pull a skateboard like a magnet.

Or flip a truck.

He’s running before he even thinks about it, bolting through the door and pelting down the familiar corridor. He knows exactly where to go too, he rounds the corner just as he sees the sole of a sneaker vanish. All the desperation and the longing he’s felt over the past year aren’t anything compared to the sneaking suspicion he’s had that she’s not there by choice. For one of those dumb reasons like to protect him. The anger gives him an extra burst of speed as he chases after the figure, not fooled by the brown curls or the sweater he’s definitely seen before. He’s never been so grateful that he’s grown two inches in the past year in his entire life than when he lunges forward and his fingers close around her wrist.

“Stop—Stop!” he yells, yanking her towards him.

Her shoulder collides with his chest, her other hand smacking against his sternum and then he’s sailing backwards. In an instant it’s a year ago, there’s monsters and chaos everywhere and he’s back against the wall, crying because he knows what’s about to happen. But then he’s back and the corridor is silent except for their harsh breathing. He’s had a year of being powerless, a year of it is more than he can stomach. Now he’s just furious. When he tries to get up, it’s like an invisible hand holds him down.

“Let me go!” he shouts and she takes a step back. He hears Max’s footsteps coming towards them and he stares at El, who doesn’t seem to know what to do, “go away Max!”

“But—“

“Go away!”

“Don’t yell at me asshole!” she orders and El takes another step back. He’s going to lose her, he knows it. But if she comes there, El’s got to let him go to run. His entire body tenses as they all seem to reach their conclusions at the same time, “who do you think you—“ she begins.

He dives as soon as her grip falters.

Whatever El is expecting it’s not that. He grabs her and pulls her into the nearest classroom, pinning her against the wall and hiding her with his body. She stares up at him, wide eyed and terrified and he knows he’s never going to forget that look for as long as he lives. Max tries the door but it’s mysteriously locked. She gives it a half hearted kick and rolls her eyes, walking away. Her footsteps are gone before El puts both her hands on his chest and pushes him back, stepping into the darkness of the classroom like that can hide her.

Mike’s head is having a hard time processing what he’s seeing. The joy in his heart at her being there is coming up against the realization that all the time’s he’s thought he felt her there, she very well may have been. She probably was. All the questions clog in his throat as he looks at her. He’s spent the past year acting out, sending any signal he can that she’s need and wanted here. And apparently the only thing he had to do was be alone with another girl. His stomach turns at that when he remembers. Remembers what she saw. He’d heard Nancy talking about it, rolling his eyes at how Steve talking to a girl could possibly translate into her being dumped.

Maybe this isn’t real.

He’s entirely willing to entertain the possibility. Half in the shadows she looks so different. She’s layered up in hand me downs, he’s pretty sure Nancy donated the shirt to the last yard sale. Her hair is curly and lighter than the cropped fuzz she had last year. His mother drags him into the kitchen and trims his hair whenever she feels it’s getting too long, he has no idea how long it takes hair to grow like that. She’s in the shadows and her eyes are darting around the room except when they land on him. Like she’s afraid to look at him but doesn’t want to look anywhere else. When he steps forward, she jumps.

“Mike.”

That’s the thing that breaks it. He can’t make up the way she says his name. They both stare at each other before she shakes her head, pulling back even further. He steps forward, suddenly desperate to touch her but she shakes her head, rooting him to the spot.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” she says, “it’s not safe.”

The first time he saw her comes flying back.

It’s not safe.

It’s not safe for you or your family.

“Screw not safe,” he says and her eyes widen like she knows what that means, “I don’t care if it’s not safe.”

“I do,” she says, jutting her chin up.

“Well I don’t,” he shoots back, “not if it means you’re gone.”

“Soon,” she says and it sounds like a plea.

“No, everyone keeps telling me soon. I’m tired of soon! When—“

Her hand claps over his mouth before he can continue. They’ve apparently switched roles in the past year and he’s the one whose going to get them caught. Mike feels ashamed and annoyed at the thought. Her other finger presses to her lips and he wants to know where she learned all of this. If anyone’s got a right to be jealous about this, it’s him. Because someone got to spend a year with her. And he’s been dying every day waiting to know where she is, if she’s ever coming back.

“I keep asking,” she whispers, “what is soon?” she screws up her face, “I don’t know,” she looks at him earnestly, “be quiet.”

She drops her hand and he sucks in air like he’s been holding his breath. Mike’s not usually speechless like this. He’s the dungeon master for a reason. But as he looks at her he can’t think of anything. Every emotion he’s been stomping down on seems to well up and crash over him. The sound that escapes him is something between anguish and joy and he can’t do anything but pull her close.

“Mike!” they turn at the sound of his name. The world comes crashing back and he looks at her. She looks terrified even though she has to remember the rest of them would do anything for her too. “Mike what the hell man!”

“Come on,” he runs over to the window and it flies up. He helps her up onto the ledge and looks at her. He wants to keep her there but he knows she has to get out of there before they’re found out, “soon,” he says firmly, trying to project all the faith he has into the word.

“Soon,” she agrees, biting her lower lip before she looks at him, “keep talking to me?”

His heart drops when he realizes that she’s heard him. All the days, all the times, all the messages. He hoped that she heard him, maybe somewhere deep down he even knew that she did. But seeing the look on her face, knowing that she had for sure. Knowing that it helped like he was hoping it would, that means everything. She smiles at the look on his face.

“You heard?” he asks.

“I was listening,” she says. The door knob rattles and he looks at her desperately, “soon,” she says, “promise.”

He nods and she hops down, running away.

They get the door open because of course Max can pick locks. They find him looking out the window, watching her disappear into the tree line. It definitely doesn’t take much to get tears in his eyes as he turns around. Lucas makes a noise and Dustin sighs before coming up to him, clapping him on the back.

“Come on, man,” he says, “we talked about running after her.”

“Her name’s El,” he corrects, “she was here.”

“Yeah, sure she was,” Dustin says steering him back, “look we all wipe out on the board sometimes—“

“I did not wipe out!”

Mike looks back at the window, but El’s already gone. Dustin slows his pace enough to let him check, just to be sure. He tries to remember how long he usually looks for. He settles for counting to eleven in his head, just long enough for Dustin to nudge him back into reality. He offers a shaky smile and Dustin sighs, steering him back, waving over his shoulder because he might hide it better than Mike but he misses her too.

Mike hopes she saw.

He reminds himself to tell her later.

I Thought We Already Weren’t (Peter Parker x Reader)

Request: anonymous asked: Ooh I love angst!! Can you do something where the reader has a huge crush on peter but he likes Liz and he asks her out on date and he asks the reader for help with everything so she basically plans the whole thing for him and he keeps saying things like “wow ur such a good friend” and out of jealousy she asks Flash on a date and they start to go out and Peter says he’s not good enough for her and they get into a huge argument and deicde it’s better if they stop being friends…

Word Count: 2,413 (sorry, got carried away again)

Warnings: Angst

A/N: heyyy more angst! sorry this is quite late, but I finally figured out how I wanted this imagine to go. I did try to shorten it a bit since it is quite long, but I guess this is as short as it’s gonna get 😂 hope you like it, anon! ❤️❤️

Part 2   Part 3

“(Y/N)!” your name carried through the halls above the chatter of the student body. Eyebrows furrowed, you jerked your head out from your locker to see who was beckoning. You spotted Peter’s dark curls bobbing amongst the crowd towards you.

“(Y/N),” Peter gasped. He leant against the locker next to yours, breathing heavily.

You raised your brows in amusement. “Yes?” you asked, curious as to what would motivate Peter to run.

Peter swallowed, “I need your help.”

“With what?” you turned back to your locker to shove your math textbook inside and grab your jacket.

“Ummm… well… it’s about…” he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper and leaned closer. “It’s about Liz.”

You tilted your head away from him slightly to hide the anguish that quickly flashed on your face. “What about Liz?” you tried to keep your voice steady and calm. A difficult feat, as you felt a pit drag your stomach and your breath catch high in your throat.

“I—I uh—well—I have a date with her,” he stammered

“What?!” you exclaimed, shocked. “Wow, Peter!” You tried to shove out any tone of sadness in your voice. You knew how much courage it must’ve taken this nervous but excited and eager romantic buzzing next to you.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Did you just ask her?” you guessed.

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” his ecstatic state quickly turned into a more panicked one. “But I need your help. I have no idea what to do!”

“For the date?”

“Yeah!” Shutting your locker, you swung your jacket over your shoulder and headed for the school doors. Peter bounded after you. “Please, (Y/N)!” he pleaded.

You shoved the doors open, “Why aren’t you asking Liz, though? Isn’t the date with her?” You worried that that might’ve been a bit forward in revealing your subtle bitterness.

“Well, yeah but I—I wanted to surprise her. And I can’t ask Ned ‘cause I don’t wanna mess this up, I mean no offense to him, but you know—(Y/N), you’re my only other friend who can help me!” Your stomach twisted at that word. Friend.

“When is it?”

“Friday.”

You sighed, conflicted yet sympathetic. Here he was, the best friend you had slowly but undoubtedly fallen for, asking for your help with someone else. Of course you were jealous. Of course you were dejected and feeling a bit betrayed. But of course you were going to help him. Because, dammit, you were proud and happy for him, too.

After two years of daydreaming, confiding, and awkwardly trying, he had finally gotten courage and motivation to do something about it. You saw how he lit up when she merely looked his way, how he melted whenever she said something nice to him, how jittery and nervous he got whenever he was within a ten food radius of her. You weren’t about to take that away from him just because of your unrequited feelings; because before he was ever your crush, he was your best friend.

“Okay,” you replied. Hope and relief immediately washed out all desperation on Peter’s face. You couldn’t help but smile a bittersweet smile.  

“Really?!” he grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” you cheerfully affirmed. “Just, uh, come over later tonight so we can think of some ideas.”

“Thank you! Really, (Y/N), thank you so much!” Peter squeezed you in a tight hug that you half heartedly returned. He suddenly pulled away and reached for his phone. You already knew what it most likely meant, so you started past him.

“I’ll see you around seven?” you called back. Peter was already running the opposite direction.

“Uh yeah! Seven’s good!”

Groaning, you got up from your chair and stretched your arms above your head. How could simple chemistry equations somehow make your entire body ache?

You were about to plop back into your chair when a tapping came from your window. Glancing at the clock that read ten minutes past eight, you trudged over, unlocked it, and slid it up.

“Sorry I’m late; some nut job decided tonight was a good night to rob a jewelry shop.”

“Hm,” you nodded as you headed to your desk. Peter stumbled through the window, leaving it open for a quick getaway.

“Your folks home?”

“Nah,” you shrugged. “Both have meetings.”

Peter slipped his backpack off and slumped onto your bed. “So,” he rested his elbows on his knees, “Any ideas?”

You swiveled your chair around. “Not really,” you confessed. “Nothing’s really come to mind.”

Peter hung his head down, groaning, “What am I gonna do?”

“So… okay then. What do you want to do?” you inquired.

“I dunno! I was thinking maybe just dinner and a movie? Chill, not to much fancy expensive stuff…”

“No, no don’t do that. That’s typical, not surprising at all.”

“Ugh,” he muttered. “Has she ever said anything about like what her ideal date would be?”

“Don’t think so…” you racked your brain. You didn’t know Liz too well. Sure you’d shared some classes with her these past two years and had gotten to know her well enough. But you weren’t the best friend she’d confide to about relationships and dating. You also weren’t going to give up your ideal date for Peter to create for someone else.

You both sat in silence, thinking. There was a slight tension in the room that you both could sense, but it was hardly enough to make the setting awkward. You’d also never let it get to that point either.

“I know she likes picnics…” you offered. “Maybe you could get takeout from her favorite place and take her on a picnic somewhere?”

“Oh yeah…” Peter sat up. “That sounds cool!”

“And it’s not super expensive.”

“But do it kind of late-ish,” you added. “And maybe on the roof of a high building. So it’ll be darker and better for star gazing. Liz loves stars.”

“Yeah… yeah, yeah! That’s great; that’s awesome! Oh, okay okay! I got it,” Peter leapt up from your bed and raced over to embrace you once again. “Thank you, so much, (Y/N)! Thanks for being such a great friend and—and helping me and WOOH!” he whooped as he skipped to grab his bag. “I’m gonna go scope out some places…”

As he squeezed through the window you chuckled, “Okay…” That nagging feeling began to creep up on you, and you put your head in your hands. You knew the petty thoughts would begin to fill your mind soon.

You knew you shouldn’t feel jealous. You knew there was nothing you could do to change his mind. But you couldn't stop it. You were mad at yourself for believing you could ever compete with a girl like Liz Allen. You hated having these feelings of envy and betrayal, because you knew they were futile. It was pointless; this was only going to make you feel even worse.

Okay, you told yourself. Calm down, stop thinking like that. Just be happy that he finally got his chance with Liz. Repeating this over and over didn’t help. Okay… Maybe the date will go bad— NO! No, God, why even think like that?! Okay, maybe the date will be okay but Peter will figure out he doesn’t really like her? Ugh why am I LIKE this?! You felt completely horrible when you realized you actually found solace in that last thought. Deciding you needed to just distract yourself before you could torment yourself any further, you turned back to your notebook with a sigh.

Four weeks and five dates later, wherever you saw Peter, there was Liz. Your one solace, your one hope had fallen through. Peter had begun to hang with you and Ned less and less as the weeks went by. His spontaneous midnight visits had stopped altogether, and sometimes wouldn’t even answer your texts for a good few days.

Distractions were helping less and less as well. No matter how many songs you blasted in your ear, or how many fanfics you poured over each night, or late night calls with Ned about any movie you two could find; the envy kept gnawing away at you. But poor sweet Ned. You finally broke and confided to him; keeping it in was just too much. And try as he might to help you try to get over it and keep you distracted and happy, you both knew nothing was enough.

It also didn’t help that Liz would often come to Peter when he was at his locker. Right next to yours. Even though they tried to keep their voices down to small murmurs, you could hear every sickening and sappy word pouring from their mouths.

“God, I think I love you.”

You froze, gripping the textbook as if it were your composure. That phrase had managed to slip through all the ambient noise and ruckus echoing through the hallway and reach your ears. How many times had you wished to hear those words from him, only for them to be meant for someone else?

Well you certainly didn’t hear much after that. You didn’t hear Liz’s reply, or Ned’s greeting, or your locker slam. The only thing that your ears registered was your booming heartbeat. You felt your whole body heat up, searing with anger and jealousy. You wandered away from your locker, away from them. Meandering through the crowd of students, you couldn’t think of where to go or what to do.

An obnoxious voice broke through the pulsing in your ear.

“Hurry up, move it, (Y/N)!” Flash complained as he breezed past you. “What’re you waiting for? Your imaginary boyfriend to become real?” he jeered.

A sudden drive and confidence took over you, fueled by the anger and jealousy coursing through your veins. You knew what you wanted. You wanted to make Peter hurt. Hurt like you were. And you knew just how to do it.

“Well that’s up to you, Flash!” you called. Flash whipped around, confused. It morphed into amused as you jogged over to him.

“What do you mean?” he crossed his arms.

“Pick me up, my place, Friday at seven,” you challenged. Flash’s face dropped into bewilderment. “Wear something nice,” you added, brushing past. “I expect to be wowed.” As you pushed open the school doors, smirking, you could perfectly hear the shock that rippled through the silence of the hallway. This was certainly one way to get over it.

*tap tap tap*

You startled up from your chair, not sure if you had really heard it. You went over to your window and opened the blinds revealing the red and blue figure. Sliding it open, you leaned out on your elbows, blocking him from coming in but opening yourself to conversation.

“Hey,” Peter breathed.

“Hey.”

He shuffled anxiously, tugging at the mask in his hands, “Can I talk to you?”

You shrugged, “I’m listening.”

“Why—” Peter took a deep breath. “Why’d you ask out Flash?” he timidly asked.

You stiffened. “Because.” Guilt started to take the place of resentment in your gut, but you shoved it away. You could tell he was concerned about you doing something so out of character and ridiculous on all accounts. However you refused to sway from your choice. You weren’t going to to back to sitting around moping about how he was with Liz.

“Because why?” he demanded.

“Because I can and I did.”

“But when were you interested in Flash?”

“When was it your business?”

“Since you’re my friend!”

You scoffed, hurt. “Am I?”

Peter squinted at you, “Y-Yeah. Wh—Why do you have to ask?”

“‘Cause it doesn’t feel like I’ve been!” you cried. The rest of your anger was spilling out, but with a different tone this time. This wasn’t a revenge thing or a spur of the moment vent-all-your-feelings session. This was everything that was buried deep, everything that wasn’t revealed to Ned, everything that really hurt.

“You’ve constantly ditched on stuff ‘cause you’d rather go to something else with Liz! You’ve left me and Ned hanging countless times. If it was because of Spiderman stuff, then I’d be more understanding, but it isn’t. You’ve just replaced your true friends with the girl you’ve been oogling for years!” your voice rose several octaves. “You never reply when we text, and you never answer when I need you or even when Ned does! So no, Peter, it doesn’t feel like I’m your friend anymore.”

Neither of you moved, too stunned by the words floating in the thick tension between you.

“So this is a jealousy thing.”

“What?!” you screeched. “That literally has nothing to do with what I just said—”

“No! No no no, it does!” Peter retorted. “You’re jealous because I’m spending more time with her, I get it—”

“No. You don’t.”

“No, I do! Look, I’m sorry if I’m not spending every waking moment with you guys like I used to, but it doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore.”

“NO!” you cried. “No, Peter! It’s not because we’re not hanging out as much, it’s because we’re not hanging out at all. You’re always so distant with us now and you ignore us and—”

“I don’t ignore you guys!”

“Uh, yeah you do—”

“If I did, then I wouldn’t know that you asked Flash out, and I wouldn’t be here asking why the hell you’d ever do that!”

“Again, what the hell does it matter to you?!”

“He’s a douche!” Peter flailed his arms. “He’s an arrogant, spoiled asshole who’s so insecure that he goes around teasing people. He even teases you, (Y/N)! And you asked him out?!” He howled. Peter took a step towards your window, and you withdrew a little. “He doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N), and you don’t deserve to put up with that piece of shit—”

“You know what?” you glared at Peter, seething, blood boiling for the second time that day. “Yeah, you’re right: he’s a piece of shit who only cares about himself. But I bet he’s still gonna be a better shitty friend than you’ve been this entire month.”

Peter took a step back, appalled at what he was hearing. He pursed his lips and dropped his eyes to the ground. “Maybe we just shouldn’t be friends anymore,” he whispered.

You reached up for your window and numbly slid it shut. Knowing he could still hear you, you muttered as you closed your blinds, “I thought we already weren’t.”

Watching Me Watch You [m]

Smut + Blindfolded Sehun + Submissive Sehun // Look it's not every day you get to blindfold your boyfriend, so why not make the best out of it?

“So here are the rules of our little game. First of all, the blindfold stays for long as need be, secondly, you don’t get to touch me-”

At the graze of your hand against his arm, he jumps ever so slightly. This is beautiful, and God he’s so beautiful. Just watching him sitting there withering, with a piece of cloth over his eyes. He’s never suspecting of what may happen, he doesn’t know when or where the next touch will be. And that's the best thing about this whole situation.

Grinning wide, you drag your finger across his face and trace his striking cheekbones.

“Huh, I really can’t touch you?”

You quickly place a finger to his lips, you weren’t even finished with your rules. “Last but not least, no cumming I say so.”  

As you drone on about potential punishments, you caress your finger across his lips.You savour in their soft pillow like softness a while (You were alway jealous of how shapely and soft they were) before slipping your finger through them. His mouth is a warm wet cavern, and you find your heart beating faster as his tongue swirls around your digit. Although the act of placing a finger in one's mouth is a meagre one, it’s deliciously explicit. And now he’s sucking your finger and you’re just staring at those luscious lips.

Finally, you pull your finger out and along with it comes a soft pop. “You know what, I don’t know why I find that so sexy...what is it about putting my finger in your mouth?” You question as you stare at your glistening finger.

Sehun’s opens his mouth, but he quickly shuts it the moment he remembers your ‘rules’. You obviously notice this simple act and your face lights up with joy. Who knew he could be submissive?

You rustle his hair and then crane your head down to his ears, you make sure to let your lips graze the skin of his ear . “Good boy,” in an instant the hairs on his body stand to attention.

You place a delicate trail of kisses around the length of neck, each one eliciting a small but sharp intake of air from him. “Hmm, so what do ya think I should next?” You run a finger down his chest, “Where do you think I should explore next?”

“Uh maybe-”

Sighing, you slap your hand over his mouth, “Honey...I don’t think you understand what we’re doing. You don't get a say in this, okay.” you seal your words with a pat on his cheek and a smile.

He hums in agreement and so you peel your fingers away. “Hmm there's my good boy!” You pat his cheek.  “So back to my monologue- where should I go next…?”

In the midst of circling around the chair and dragging a hand through his hair, you remember something. Well not really remember, it was apart of plan all along. “You know what, I think I know what should happened next. Im sure you remember that little gift, the one that goes buzz a whole lot?”  

He shakes his head, “N-no i won’t be able to keep my hands off, that’s torture.”

To say you haven’t been dreaming and daydreaming about doing this is an extreme understatement. Sometimes you’ll find yourself staring hazily into nowhere and playing little scenes of a submissive Sehun writhing and moaning under the agony of a vibrator and edging. Most people get turned on by their partner being dominant but not you. The reversal powerplay to you is like an expensive chardonnay to a rich wine mum.

Ignoring the faint pleas from Sehun, you move to your desk. Under the pile of lacy and not so lacy underwear lies a black box containing the main event of the night. Grinning like a cheshire cat, you unravel the magic wand from its velvet covering. “Honey, you’re gonna love this - I wish I could’ve used it first, but this is so much better.”

You hum a chirpy small tune as you tug his boxers off, “Look that, your cock’s standing to attention. Ok so before the main event, let’s get him a little slick and happy.” You wet the palm of your hand with a droplet of lube and place a tight grip at the base of cock. Wasting no time, you run your hand up down and over the flustered head, the almost negligible movement causes him to bite back a gasp. Your mouth opens to sneak in a sly comment, but you shut your mouth and chose to savour in the trembles and flushing of his skin with each movement.  

Although you’re hopelessly fixated on the way his mouth opens and closes, you can’t help but notice the red splotches forming on his thighs from his own grip on them. “B-babe I can’t…” He grunts.

Being the bitch you are, you just have to tighten your grip, “Can’t what honey hmm...go on, be good boy and tell me.” What’s more ludicrous is the sweet tone of your voice as you do such unspeakable things to him.

You watch in delight as the muscles on his neck strain, “I want to touch you, please p-please just let me,” His begging fires something dark in you and you can’t help but giggle, knowing the hilarious extent of your boyfriend’s stubbornness you’d expected him to beg later on. But then again, the situation was exceedingly peculiar to the other ones. Usually one is able to see incoming touches and be prepared but with Sehun, every touch is a surprise and that’s just intoxicating.

“As much that would be nice, you know for the both of us i’m gonna have to say no,” Satisfied with his weathered state, you release his cock, which in turn causes him to groan. You aren’t planning on letting him cum anytime soon, and god knows how long you‘re gonna drag this out.

With the magic wand locked between your hand, you couldn’t be any happier. “You wanna know something Hun? Well, I’m holding this magic wand,the latest model from their x5 series and it’s silent machine with a strong vibration. And guess what? The vibration strength can waver at the press of a button. Now imagine that.”

With one click, a soft buzz fills the room. And in tandem with that sound, Sehun gulps.

“Here we go,” In order to up the ante, you place the head of the wand on his thigh. You trace the smooth lines of muscles before drawing near and nearer to the desired spot. His heart races whenever he suspects the wand will to his aching cock but then it doesn’t and he can’t help but grit his teeth.

“Honey please,” Sehun murmurs so quiet that you almost didn’t catch it.

Savouring in the wave of pleasure that runs straight to your core, you move the wand closer “When you beg like that it really turns me on, be a good boy and do it again.,”

“Ah...P-please, please just-” You’re certain he’s about to draw blood from the strength of his hands digging into his flesh.

You’re tempted to slide to your hand down into your underwear and just roll  your clit between your two fingers, like you do on the nights Sehun wasn't home. But you’d rather let your pleasure build up until his face is buried within thighs.

The first time you ran the vibrator over the skin of cock he yelps. You make sure to gather the pearly drop of pre-cum and languidly slather it the pink head. The lazy motions were driving to a place he’d never been before. He was seeing colored spots in his vision and he just couldn’t stop whimpering. “Ahh...f-fuck, it feels so,” he pants and you can  definitely tell he was getting close.

Never forgetting the edging aspect of your plan, you pull the vibrator away from cock. “No no, please...I.”

You let him whine and groan for a few seconds before bring the vibrator back to his cock. The moment the vibrator makes contact all he can see is stars. He’s biting back a moan as droplets of sweat slide down his chest. And once again, he gets close.

And surely, you pull the wand back. It’s as if he runs towards a cliff edge and prepares his body to jump, but then a tight rope just reels him back in the moment his leg lifts off. And it’s driving him crazy. But he can’t deny the way the waves of pleasure strengthen each time you pull away then come back.

“Oh god,please let me cum,” He repeats in quick successions all the while being ghastly out of breath.

You’re enjoy this too much to let him cum now, you want - no need to see how far he can go. There’s been time where you’ve edged for over ten minutes and with every minute the pleasure became unbearable and wild.

This time you put the wavering vibration mode on, and concentrate the tremors all round his head. The poor thing was becoming an almost alarming shade of red, “You’re doing so well baby,” You purr, “But I’m still not gonna let you cum.”

“No babe, please. I can’t  hold it,” He chokes out in between soft gulps of air.  

Here’s the gag, you’re not going to let Sehun cum, no matter how much he begs and keens - well, not until he’s actually inside you. You want him at the perfect amount of dejection and frustration, so much that when he does get you in hands he’ll be unrelenting.

Much to Sehun’s dismay but your pleasure, you switch the vibrator off. “W-why did- what are you doing?” In the midst of his anguish, his arms begin reaching towards you just trying to grasp at whatever he can. Smiling like a true villain, you dodge each of his attempts, “Please babe, I was so close.”

“Oh I know you were close honey,” You say climbing on top of his lap, you place your thighs at either side of his, “But I just couldn’t let you cum,” You reach for his hands and guide them along the plush skin of your thighs.

“Wait you’re letting me touch, I thought-”

“Yes you thought, but since you must know, I made the rules and I can break the rules at my will,” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, whatever cologne he’s wearing is heavenly. “So please touch me, pretty please,” the words are sealed with a few pecks that soon find themselves on his lips.

As your mouth open and your tongues entangle with each other, his hands knead the soft skin of your buttocks. “Fuck, you feel so good,” He says, pulling away.

A/n

The local Tumblr pervert returns with a submissive scenario, shock horror! This is yet another rewrite of a jongdae fic I'd written.

Just wondering, does anyone reading this share a love of Avatar: The Last-you- know-what? If so, I would just like to say, that Zuko will be played by Sehun and that's final. Fight me at 8pm, outside SM offices if you don't agree

Tell me what you think!!!!! Was it hot?? was it ugh?