#but he literally said “i know my beliefs are kinda in the way but i love you”

[xclowniex]

I hope hasan reacts to your shit. He could destroy your whole world view kike

Imagine riding Hasan's dick so hard, couldn't be me.

I kinda hope he does see my blog. I can already picture his response.

He would probably yell, throw a tantrum, claim i am genocidal because i support a two state solutions and criticize both Hamas and the Israeli government, say some antisemitic shit about how I, an arab jew, am supporting white colonialism as according to him, all jews are white. He then would probably insult me instead of coming up with any actual points before spreading propaganda to his fans.

Real talk though, do you even know the type of person you are supporting? He has said before that rape is a rich white person problem as only rich white boys rape rich white girls. He insulted and threw a tanty when a trans person asked him not to speak over trans voices in trans debates. He has spread so much misinformation that is easily verifiable as false. He claims to be an expert on topics he has zero experience in apart from seeing shit on the news from the comfort of his home. He is a multi-millionare who claims to be a socialist yet does not pay his mods.

This ask also spurred me to see what shit he has been saying recently as I usually just ignore him, and he literally said that the protocols of zion is the reason for modern day antisemitism. Which is so cooked as its not the cause for modern day antisemitism, it is an almagamation of antisemitic beliefs which have existed for centuries beforehand, all wrapped up into one book. Most antisemitic tropes existed far before that was written and were already popular world wide before the book was written. The protocols are bad and did cause more antisemitism, but to act like they are the reason for antisemitism today is just cooked. Antisemitism is forever morphing and fits whatever it needs to for jews to be treated as a scapegoat. Modern day antisemitism didn't start with Nazi Germany, it started way beforehand.

Hasan should not be acting like some expert on antisemitism. He has no relevent degrees or experience and is not jewish himself. I think everyone should call out antisemitism when they see it, however he is not an expert and needs to stop acting like one and stop talking over jews. But of course he would probably just insult me for saying that.

Anyway I do hope he sees this and reacts to it publically, it would be really funny to see. I also hope he sees it as he also now can see how he has cultivated a space where antisemites like yourself who use an antisemitic slur, feel comfortable existing.

#antisemitism #jumblr #ask clownie #but bad

[the-biornicles]

bleh

#lior says words #vent #i said i would get over this today so first and last vent about this #but basically my friend/crush told me last night that he likes me #and for like 30 minutes it was like holy shit me too damn that's crazy we should totally kiss nonplatonically #but he's christian #at first i was like oh it's fine i know queer christians #but he literally said “i know my beliefs are kinda in the way but i love you” #so i should've been able to tell that a few minutes after i went to bed he would retract his statement #and basically say that right now he didn't want to “betray his religion” bc of a crush #i'm not even mad at him #just kinda disappointed bc i was literally so close #literally. if i wasn't trans. or he wasn't christian. or rather christianity wasn't so ambivalent about gay people #we would probably be together rn #and i want to tell him “it's fine you can be christian and date a guy” but like #his family is also super christian and idk how they feel about gay people #they think i'm a cishet guy #so in the end maybe it's better this way? #honestly. i'm still naively hanging on to hope #like maybe he'll be able to reconcile his own feelings and his religious beliefs. maybe his family ends up being alr with it #maybe this still has a happy ending idk #that's the worse part #that i'm still hoping #it's stupid and naive but what the hell i just wish it would happen #i hope and wish that in the future it all works out just fine #one way or another

[cheolhub]

WORTH THE WAIT — KIM MINGYU ࿐

summary. mingyu forgets about the date you’ve had planned and he wants to show you he’s sorry in a rather unconventional way.

wc. 1.8k

warning. unprotected sex, couch sex, dumbification, lots of apologizing, big d!ck!gyu (ofc), kinda angsty but it’s all resolved, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+

note. this idea was sent by my beloved 🌵 anon… like…. literal months ago lol— it was a drabble at first, then it got a bit too long, so enjoy it xx [not proofread, kinda shitty]

contrary to belief, kim mingyu does have a few faults. he can be a bit clumsy and he’ll accidentally eat your leftovers every time he’s over, but the biggest fault of them all is… he can be a bit forgetful.

so when mingyu accidentally double books hanging out with wonwoo on the same night as your date, you find yourself dolled up and waiting around your apartment for him, unaware of his whereabouts. you hadn’t seen him much due to your conflicting schedules and you’d been looking forward to the date all week long.

you wait and wait— 15 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour. you text him a few times, but you don’t get a response and you figure he’s at work, asleep, or doing something else. whatever the case may be, he definitely forgot.

mingyu doesn’t realize this until he’s checking his phone for the first time of the hectic game night and he sees a string of text messages from you.

from you 6:33 

i can’t wait to see u!! :,)

from you 7:07

hi babyyy, text me when you’re here and i’ll come down

from you 7:39

gyu are you still coming?

if you wanna reschedule, we can… just text me back and let me know?

from you 8:02

i checked ur location to make sure u weren’t dead and i saw you were at woo’s

i’m just gonna assume ur with him, which is fine :) pls just let me know next time.

shit.

shit shit shit.

regardless of what you say, it’s not fine— he can practically hear your dejected voice through the text and the smiley face doesn’t do shit to mask it. 

he’s quick to tell wonwoo and make his way to your place, insides churning at the thought of you feeling stood up. he would never, in a million years, ever want to hurt you in any way.

he doesn’t text he’s here, he doesn’t knock, he just takes the spare key hidden under your placemat and lets himself in. 

you’re curled up on the couch in your date outfit watching some random show before you jolt at the sound of your door being unlocked. when mingyu walks in, panic on his face, you deflate a bit, internally thanking the universe that it was just him and not some intruder.

“baby…” 

you try to put a smile on as if he isn’t the last person you wanted to see at the moment, but mingyu sees through it. 

“hi, gyu.” you say curtly. “hope you had fun at wonwoo’s tonight.”

the subtle shade proves you’re upset, even if you had said it unconsciously. his lips turn down in a frown and he walks around the couch so he’s posted right in front of you.

“Y/N, you have to believe me— i’m so sorry. i got the days—“

you cut him off with a sigh, “gyu, seriously. it’s fine. it’s not that big of a deal. we can just do something the next time you’re free.” 

he doesn’t even know when next time will be given his rather strenuous schedule and you know that, yet those words come out of your mouth anyway. he huffs softly and takes a seat next to you, intertwining your hands into his.

“baby, please,” he whispers. “you know i would never stand you up on purpose. i lost my mind and got the days mixed up– please let me make it up to you.”

you shrug, avoiding eye contact. you want to stay mad, but the way he’s looking at you… the way he’s holding your hands… it’s making it impossible not to melt into a helpless puddle. “how?” you ask meekly.

he doesn’t say anything, letting go of your hands in favor of cupping your cheek and pulling you in. his soft lips meet yours and you practically forget why you’re angry to begin with. his tongue quickly finds its way into your mouth and your soft moan eases his nerves a bit. 

he pulls back, leaving you warm and fuzzy and a bit needy for more of him. he finally takes you in when his eyes open. you’re still in a pretty little outfit– presumably, one you’d picked out for your date– and it makes him groan a little bit. 

“you look so pretty, baby. you wore this all for me?”

you nod your head slowly. “i was really excited to show you…”

he frowns, “i know, i’m sorry… i’m so, so sorry,” he mumbles and you don’t say anymore, simply nodding your head at his apology. his lips are on yours again, rougher this time. it’s like he’s trying to prove just how sorry he is with every passing second. 

and when he breaks the kiss again, you whine. “gyu…”

“wanna take this off. can i?” he asks, referring to your dress and you just nod again. 

his hands find the hem, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in your even prettier set. the black lace adorns your body and mingyu feels his pants tighten at the mere sight. 

he’s breathless when the pet name falls from his lips, “baby…”

he’s so glad you didn’t change, but he feels like such an idiot for fucking up this bad. he wishes he checked his phone earlier, he wishes he remembered your date was tonight, he wishes he could’ve taken you out in your gorgeous dress and brought you back home to see the even more gorgeous set underneath. 

but he’ll make up for it. he’ll spend all the time in the world doing so if he needs to.

he stands to his feet pulling his shorts off and revealing his aching cock. you bite your lip and slide down so your back and head are comfortably on the cushion of your couch, eyes trained on his huge length.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, rolling them down your legs and leaving your now-wet cunt bare. 

“so beautiful… so fuckin’ beautiful angel, can… can i keep going?”

you whimper and wordlessly nod again, brain unable to give him a verbal response. he grunts, joining you back on the couch by getting in between your legs. 

“tell me when…” he whispers, aligning himself with your hole before pressing his fat cock into you. “fuck, so tight…”

the burning stretch of your walls opening to take him makes your head spin a bit. no matter how many times he fucks you, it always hurts.

at first, at least, because now he’s balls deep in your pulsing cunt and all you can feel is blinding pleasure. the burn and stretch have subsided and your brain has turned to complete and utter mush. 

you clench around him tightly and he has to ask, “are you good, baby?”

you dumbly nod– it’s all you can do– but mingyu can’t help but feel more anxiety fill his body. you’ve barely said any words to him and it makes him worry that you won’t forgive him. 

you moan when his cock leaves just for it to suddenly fill you back up with a single, sharp thrust. this is how it starts before he’s moving faster and faster. 

words still fail to leave your mouth, just cute gasps and clipped moans, but mingyu can’t seem to stop breathy apologies from leaving his own. “‘m sorry… you know that right, angel? ‘m so sorry.”

and your eyes just roll back, ignoring his apologies as you’re all consumed by his massive cock fucking in and out of you. mindless babbles escape your lips and it’s not till then does mingyu realize how brainless you’ve become. 

it makes his heart clench. you’ve never gotten like this for him before and he knows it’s a result of being left to your own devices for far too long. he knows he hasn’t been there for you, knows you haven’t been able to cum properly in god knows how long and it hurts him. it hurts him so fucking bad.

and, to be transparent, he’s missed you more than you know.

his hand finds your abdomen, pressing down so he can feel himself thrusting into you. in doing so, his thumb reaches your clit and this seems to bring some life to you. “gyu!” you cry. “feels s’good!”

he lets out an elated chuckle at the sound of your voice, “yeah? it feels good, angel?”

and it’s almost like you read his mind with your next words. “s-so good, m-missed you.” 

a guttural groan erupts in his throat and he starts to fuck you harder– to fuck you deeper– and the thumb on your clit moves quicker, effectively stimulating the swollen bud. “me too– fuck, missed you so much. missed fucking this pretty pussy so much, baby, you don’t even know.”

your face pinches together in pleasure and you clamp his dick harder at the affirmation. “i-i’m–” you let out a gaspy whine and mingyu knows exactly what it means.

“gonna cum?” he finishes your broken sentence. 

you nod eagerly, eyebrows knit together as you feel the formed knot in your tummy get tighter and tighter. “gyu–”

he shushes, thrusts growing erratic. his voice is hot and breathy and you can tell, just by the sound of it, he’s just as close as you are. “just cum for me, baby– need you to let go ‘n cum all over my cock. you can do it.” 

you cry, body going taut as you cream all over him, pussy trapping him between your pulsing, velvet walls. mindlessly, you babble out some words that he can barely make out, but the second he hears those three words– i love you, said in your cute, pitchy voice– his worries wash away. 

he’s overcome by love and the feeling of you gripping him for dear life and the only thing he can do is press his hips flush against yours and fill you up the way he knows you need. his cum paints your walls, fulfilling the craving you didn’t even know you had. 

“god,” he moans, panting out, cock still twitching between your spasming walls. “please forgive me, angel. i promise i’ll be better ‘n make more time for you”

part of your mind finds its way back to you after a few seconds and you can’t help but giggle at his words. “i forgave you after you kissed me, babe.”

he smiles, large hands caressing your body, “really?”

you hum, hazy eyes taking him in, “mmh, you’re really hard to be mad at, you know that, right?”

“good ‘cus i don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

“well, then don’t do stupid things.”

he whines, “baby, you know that’s impossible for me, stupidity is practically in my dna.”

you giggle at the joke. “i know… but… i won’t be so nice to you next time you decided to hang out with wonwoo instead of taking me out.”

“you can be as mean to me as you want, baby, but i swear, i’ll never stand you up ever again.”

“good.” you smile back at him. “now… maybe you can prove how sorry you are again? in my bed this time?”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

#mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut

[accio-victuuri]

i was trying to understand what some cpfs were talking about, all the more because it was locked posts and it was about knocking drama cp then i realized— they don’t like how some cp fans are liking the pair of wei ruolai and shen tunan. 😂😂😂😂

dude. seriously. are we really doing this? i’ve noticed it early on, how the relationship of the three looks like the shen siblings fighting over lai lai’s favor. whether that’s romantic or not, the story is about the two siblings’ completely different beliefs in life and which one would wei ruolai choose. and as someone who is a cpf, meaning we are more sensitive to non-het pairings, how can you not notice them? you literally have Wei Ruolai acting like a love sick puppy over Shen Tunan. he literally said i’ll give my life to you last episode. master-apprentice type of dynamic being somewhat romantic isn’t new. and it doesn’t help that we are already close to mid point and the two lovers Wei Ruolai and Shen Jinzhen aren’t showing any strong romantic feelings. In today’s episode, SJZ was kinda seeing Xiao Wei in a different light when he attended their new year dinner, but nothing that really screams lovers. maybe in the next episodes we will see more of that but this is why i get where some cpfs are coming from.

i know the whole OTP thing and how we shouldn’t dare see xz or wyb as a pair to anyone else other than each other. but that’s the point, i believe in xiao zhan and wang yibo and that they are together romantically. wei ruolai tho is not wang yibo. wei ruolai is a fictional character. it’s perfectly fine to ship their characters in dramas they are in if that makes the experience more enjoyable for you then go ahead. as much as i love yizhan AU pairings, it’s not the only way. it makes total sense for a viewer to see these potential pairings based on the story. you are not being a traitor or unfaithful to the fandom. just enjoy their dramas/movies. xz and wyb are not their fictional counterparts. okay? people should really chill. 😅😅😅

#bjyx #personal #war of faith spoilers

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 7; "Stay here, honey."

a/n: tehe hi friends! we havent spoken much so...the tortured poets department was literally written for daisy and oliver, that's all i gotta say. i listened to i can fix him (no really i can) and guilty as sin this entire writing sesh. i missed yall tho! i feel like i havent written in 5ever. anyways enjoy friends :)

“Jesus, just pick it up.”

Oliver squinted his tired eyes at his phone screen. His body was twisted around, his neck arching to try to read the contact name that was flashing across his screen. This was the fourth time they had tried calling him. I was snug against his side, occupying the rest of his strength. I went to move away a bit, just to allow him some room to answer the phone without being contorted like a pretzel.

He felt me tug back from his hold and immediately set the phone back onto his bedside table. The screen was faced up. It was probably just me, me and my stupid naivety- but I was touched that he set it that way. My stupid belief that I meant just as much to him as he did to me made it so. Trust, love. Two feelings I had when I was with him that were now more familiar than the anger and fear I used to be consumed by.

Oliver latched his other hand, now free, around my back. His fingers splayed out around my hip, nose nuzzling into the bare crevice of my neck. I sunk into his body, an anchor sinking into cold, salty sea water.

“Eh, fuck ‘em. They’re just taking time away from me and my flower.”

I snorted at the pet name, though I secretly (not so-secretly) loved. “You’re so cringey sometimes.”

“Cringey?” He reeled his chin back, glaring down at me with those icy hazel eyes. “Girl…”

“Girl!” My mouth widened as the word so easily fell through his lips. I fought against giggles that were winning. “Who are you? Where’s Oliver?”

His laughter was deep, steady, chest rocking beneath my head, “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I’m his twin brother, Isaac. Oliver is on a top secret mission. He said you’ll always be in his heart, but he must go, fulfill his duty as a spy.”

“What the fuck,” I stated, nuzzling my head in bare chest in hopes the escape his jokes. I let out a small sigh as I fed into his humor, “You don’t have to lie to me, Isaac. I know he’s off with his secret girlfriend. Just, if you can speak to him, let him know that I won’t cry over him. I won’t miss him. Besides, his twin brother’s kinda…hot.”

“Secret girlfriend? What are you even talking about?”

Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t trained to read body language. Maybe it would’ve gone over my head if I didn’t know him, the very shell of him, so well. I could have looked past it, could’ve turned it over in my head, blurred the lines, pretended like I didn’t know the way his eyes flickered, disruption taking over his hazel pupils, as he glanced, so minutely, to his cell phone.

And, maybe it was me. Maybe I was really that insecure. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I’d never really learn to trust him, based on the entirety of our situation.

I think Oliver noticed the flicker that tilted at the corners of my lips because his face fell, just a bit. And he rushed to cover it up, “There is no secret girlfriend, darling. I promise you that.”

And he did what he was so subconsciously genius at- he manipulated the situation, moved on from it, by wrapping me up, pressing the tip of his nose to mine, and saying, “You are my one and only, Daisy. The only one I want. Need.”

I was stupid, like I always was, and kissed him.

We continued on that morning, laying around like we always did, in the early hours of the dawn, long before anyone would wake up. They had a show later, but Oliver didn’t care about getting rest. He wanted- needed, he claimed- to be with me. I guess his idea of resting involved fucking me and kissing me and feeding me with his ownership.

He always asked the strangest questions, always reminiscent of that first night on the roof. He asked like he was trying to memorize the nocks on my bones, prophesied my future in a romantically dramatic way. It was usually when we were laying around like this, silence comfortable in our breaths.

Today’s was formed as more of a statement, curious intonation, “Tell me more about your mom.”

It took me by surprise, like he almost always did. It forced me to slow my own thoughts for a moment, articulate my memories, and find delicate words. Mostly, I wondered, “Why do you wanna know that?’’

Oliver was forced to think now, but he didn’t have much of a response, “I don’t know. I was just…wondering, I guess. I mean, you’ve told me your dad’s an ass, but you had to have gotten your beauty somewhere.”

I knew he used that compliment in a much more meaningful way than the surface level allowed it to be understood. So, I blushed, tilted my head, “Well, I could talk for hours about her. Don’t want your ears to bleed.”

“Nonsense, my love. Your voice is music to my ears.”

I nuzzled my nose to his cheek. Then, I mustered up the courage to fight my sadness and began with, “She was…literally everything to me and Sam. She…dad left when I was 5. Sam, 12. Mom was, like…30? I think? So young. She opened up her own flower shop not long before he left. But, it wasn’t nearly enough money for us to live off of. So, we, like, moved into the tiny ass apartment that was above the shop. It smelled like Chinese food because of the restaurant. And, sometimes, that mixed with the flowers. And my allergies are terrible! And, not to mention, mom smoked. So…it was rough. Sam and I shared a room, so we were together more than we should have been. We were…we were so mean to mom. We, like…took out dad’s absence on her, the fact that we had to live in this shitty apartment. Meanwhile, she was just…this ball of light. She’d stay up till 3am, in the shop, blasting Taylor Swift, arranging flowers, writing this silly little poem book she hid beneath her mattress and thought I never found and read. She picked up shifts at the Chinese restaurant literally every day. She never took a day off, not even on holidays. God, she must have been fucking miserable. But…no matter what…she was, just, like…kind. I think…no, nevermind.”

I sniffled and cut my own words off, teary eyes shutting. I didn’t want to be all sappy and emotional in front of Oliver, especially not at this time of day. As I tried to steady my breathing, Oliver’s arms tightened around me.

“Hey,” he swept a hand to my cheek, drawing my eyes to his, “Daisy…keep going. Please.”

“I think Sam really misses her. He…he’d help her out, with chores, making dinner, getting the trash cleaned up when she’d be overwhelmed and forget about it all. And at the time he resented her. But, he was a teenager. He didn’t know any better. But he beats himself up over it. I just…wish he’d be kinder to himself.”

“And what about you?” Oliver whispered once I had let a pregnant pause of silence go.

I looked up at him, struck by the question, like always, “What…about me.” My eyes drifted as my mind wandered, “I…I’d sneak downstairs, far too often, watch her from the doorway while she danced, sang, drank cheap wine, tossed flower petals all around. She’d always catch me. I was a noisy kid. But, she’d never punish me. She’d grab my little hand, drag me into the room with her, play all our favorite Taylor songs.”

Oliver cracked a joke which burst a ray of sunshine through the sadness layering itself overtop the room, “God, now I feel terrible for making fun of you.”

I punched him in the stomach, closed fist splaying out into a gentle palm on his belly. “You should. She meant a lot to me and my mom. I…she’s why Sam got into music. She had this- this beautiful voice. She’d write songs, along with her poems, and record them on this tape player.”

“Where is it now? Back at your apartment?”

“No,” I shook my head, “at hers. We never really cleaned it out. Sam still pays the lease.”

“And the flower shop?”

“A stupid fucking smoothie bar. I was really hoping one of us would take it over, run it, keep her alive. But…it’s just not feasible. Too expensive.” I’d always felt guilty for that- not investing in mom’s memory. I felt like I’d buried her back in my hometown and sealed shut whatever conscious thoughts I had of her in her grave with her rotting body.

It was just too much. She gave us everything and the world failed her, killed her. Every ounce of light that had been in her eyes was completely spoiled by the time the cancer had taken over.

The thought made me shutter. Oliver noticed and brushed a soothing hand through my hairline. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

“No, no,” I tapped his stomach, “we should. I never really…never really mention her to anyone. This is nice.”

Oliver kissed my temple sweetly, “I agree. So, tell me about these late night dance parties you’d have.”

And, so, we spent the next few hours talking about my mom. Her smile, the inky flowers she had wrapped around her elbow, the way she’d let me stand on her toes while we waltzed across the shop.

We talked and talked. I cried and Oliver wiped my tears. He told me he’d give Taylor Swift another try.

And I found myself falling further.

Then, it was suddenly nearing 8am, when I knew for sure my brother’s alarm would be going off. So, we finished quickly with whatever we’d been doing. Then, Oliver helped me get dressed, which took much longer than it should’ve with two people pulling one person’s shirt over her head. It was because he stuck my head through, then dipped his head to my stomach, tracing my abdomen with wet kisses.

I giggled and shrunk away from the ticklish feeling. He laughed and chased me with his strong hands, encasing my hips with his splayed fingers. I tried pushing his touch away, writhing like a worm, but he was able to plant more kisses onto my skin.

Then his phone started ringing again.

Our movements paused. I slowly pulled the shirt the rest of the way down, meeting his eyes as my vision was cleared from that blockage. His hands moved, passively, to his sides. His body language, that distant, distracted look in my eyes burned.

“Oliver,” I accidentally whispered, then, “just answer it.”

He knew. He knew it was a challenge, a probe at the situation. He knew I was testing him. And, if he failed, if he refused to pick up the phone and answer the call, I’d run out.

I think that- losing me, watching me walk away- was just something he could not deal with right now. So, he made up some excuse while slinking over to the phone, “Probably just someone from the label. Or a stupid spam caller. No big deal.”

I was still facing away from him, still small, shrunken in on myself, when I said, to no one but the air, “Please.”

He didn’t hear me. “Hello?”

I turned around to face him, watching the muscles on his face carefully, paying attention to how he reacted to whoever was on the line. After a moment, he pressed the speaker button, and held the screen towards my vision.

“Spam,” Oliver scrunched his nose as he hung up.

Intuition, maybe jealousy, nibbled at my skin like some flesh-eating piranha. I gave one shake of my head, easily falling back into the casual, comfortable air that was routine between us. I smiled, a joke on my lips to push us past the awkwardness, “So, what kind of top secret mission is Oliver on? Drugs? Or…war?”

“Oh, all of the above!” He dramatically replied.

“Well, you tell Oliver that I need to be getting back to my own bed,” I tapped his chest, awaiting him to let his arms loose.

But, he squeezed tighter, even wrapping his occupied hand around me, “No! Please! Stay!”

“Won’t you ever get tired of me taking up space in your bed?” I giggled at his hair, tickling my neck.

He hummed a rejection, “Never. This is, like, our own secret sanctuary. Here, in this room, we can be whoever we want.”

I focused on his eyes, touching my nose to his. Then, he kissed me before mindlessly reaching behind himself to set his phone back up.

Face down.

I felt like throwing up.

The feeling was worse when I was alone, leaving his apartment like I had just signed an NDA. I tried my hardest not to overthink things, but considering our precarious relationship, this was a very difficult thing to do.

Somewhat luckily, Oliver had been normal the rest of our time together, easy-going, non-suspicious. That’s how someone who didn’t have a secret girlfriend should act. So, why couldn’t I be satisfied with that?

(Why did he place his phone face down? Why had the look in his eyes told me something different, something worse-?)

It would have made so much sense to find out that he did, in fact, have a girlfriend. After all, he’d been telling me all summer how unavailable he was. This would make so much more sense than the mindless, kind of shitty excuses he had for not being able to commit to me. Was it, then, my fault for getting involved with him? For fucking a taken man? Perhaps I’d pushed myself onto him, forcing the situation. No, no, it couldn’t have been. After all, he’d sought me out numerous times.

And, if this were the case, I was supposed to then end things? As soon as possible? Find her social media, send a fucking hey girly text message, throw myself off of a bridge in the process?

The way he kissed me when I left, the way he whispered, “I’ll miss you. You should come to the show tonight. My shining star. You’d make it all worth it. Until then, beautiful,” against my cheek, his eyelashes fluttering against my skin- there was no way I was the side piece. He was too invested in me.

Maybe she wasn’t real. Maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend. No, really- he just couldn’t have a girlfriend. It felt impossible. He was too…too caring, too gentle with me. He treated me so delicately it…just-

“Shit! Sorry!”

I had not been watching where I was going once I left Oliver’s room, which was extremely irresponsible of me. Anyone of our friends, my brother for Christ’s sake, could be walking these halls, on their way to visit the very person’s I’d just vacated. It was worse this week because Oliver’s room was on a different floor than everyone else’s. I had no way of excusing myself if I was caught up here. All I could do was be careful and hide when I heard someone familiar.

Yet, again- I was fucking stupid. I was careless. Mindless.

And I had run right into Adam.

“Daisy!” He looked up from his phone, still safe in his clutches because I’d only knocked into his left shoulder. “Shit, sorry. I’m a clutz.”

I forced out a chuckle, trying to seem chill, like I hadn’t just been having sex- 3 times- by his best friend, boss, lead singer of his band, my brother’s best friend.

“Oh, hey, Adam! No worries! I have plenty of bruises to prove I’m even more of a mess. What’re you up to?”

If I could gain control over the situation, be the one to ask the questions first, maybe then I could worm my way out of it without being exposed.

Then, a distant, deadly memory blared through my skull like a freight train. Last week, backstage. Adam, telling me where Oliver was, encouraging me to go to him. A knowing smile.

Fuck. This hole was deeper than I could ever crawl out of. Maybe he- maybe…maybe. Maybe he forgot-

“Daz…” he knew. He knew. Adam knew. He tilted his head, flicked his brows, gave a smile that suggested I just give up the facade already.

Before he could go on, I interrupted him, “Listen- just…please, just…no lectures, okay? I can handle myself. I know you guys all think Oliver’s this, like, bad person. But, he’s not. And, like- even if he is, I can handle it. I got it. I don’t need to be told what to do or warned or treated like a child. I- Oliver’s…it’s, just…you guys don’t know, okay? We have…I know it seems, like shitty, to you, probably. But…it’s really good. We have fun and, and we like each other…and that’s all that matters. Your opinions don't matter.”

As I went on, Adam’s face contorted into one of confusion, shock. Like he wasn’t computing the information I was messily throwing his way. “Daz, I…are you guys not just hooking up? I thought- I thought you were just fucking?” He let out a breathy chuckle, one of slight uncomfortability.

“It’s…yeah, like…I can see why you might think that, but…we have feelings for each other. And we’re not together or anything, but…we’re…we’re working on it.” For insisting that I didn’t want to be lectured like a child, I sure was speaking like one, shrinking in on myself, fiddling with my fingers all shy.

“So, please,” I held my hands up all defensive, like he’d lurch forward and attack me or something.

But, Adam simply sighed. He pocketed his phone, crossed his arms, eyeing me like some art exhibit. I didn’t know what he was going to say and, based on the silence he gave me, I didn’t really want to. He was calculating his response. He was probably going to fucking lecture me.

“Daisy, I…” aaand, here we go. It was me and Max in the elevator, all over again. It was Sasha, across from me at the breakfast table.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. That’s just not my place, no matter how much you mean to all of us, how much I think of you like, fuck, like a little sister. You are an adult. You can make your own decisions, dude.”

I breathed out the air I was holding. It was a relief, a sentiment I needed to hear. I didn’t care if I was being stupid- I just wished people would listen to me for once and let me do what I wanted.

“But.”

I shut my eyes, a bit tighter, longer than a blink took, in an attempt to ground the anger that was growing in my fingertips. “But, what?” My words were short, scornful.

“But,” Adam sighed again, “I just want you to be happy. I’ve watched you, all summer, try to prove yourself. To Sasha, to Max, to me. To your brother, especially. And, worst of all, Oliver.”

“It makes me so disappointed to see somebody like you have such little self worth. To see you dilute yourself for others. You are…so kind. So beautiful. So pointed and smart and sure of yourself. But, you hate it. You hate that you’re like that. You want to turn yourself into some version of you that just doesn’t fit. Some girl who’s edgy, some girl who’s laid back and doesn’t care what happens. That’s just not you, Daisy. You are intense. And that’s good! You’re passionate, you know what you want. You just…you need to believe you’re worth those wants. Stop doubting your abilities to make it happen. Stop doubting that you deserve it. Just grab it.”

I hadn’t expected to be so humbled. His words were…truer than any cheesy line any therapist had sold to me for $200. It knocked the wind out of me, forcing me to take a step back, literally. I guarded myself from the rush of the tornado, an arm wrapped over my stomach, one nervously rubbing my neck.

What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?

“I’m…sorry,” I whispered in response. It was all I could think to say.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” Adam touched my shoulder, “say it to yourself. You deserve the entire world. And I hope you accept that soon. This shit with Oliver will suck the life out of you.”

All I could think to do next was toss my arms around his shoulders, clutching him to my body like a warm blanket. He hugged me back, just as tight.

After only a few moments, we pulled apart. Neither of us said anything else. Adam simply touched my head, lovingly offering me this brotherly smile, before continuing his way down the hall.

I finally made my way to the elevator, one singular thought on my mind: my own self worth.

Adam had been so shockingly correct. I…

I knew it, too. I’d known it this whole time, only making myself and thought smaller in order to make room for Oliver. I couldn’t keep doing that. I needed to prioritize my own worth while loving him.

Loving him.

I needed to…

We couldn’t keep going like this.

I loved him.

And, from the way he held me, kissed me…the lyrical remedies he spoke to me…he loved me.

He loves me.

I’d confront him about this intuitive feeling.

Tonight.

–

“And this one I got when we were in Australia last year. I had this idea of getting ink everytime we hit a new city. But it got kind of expensive. Plus, we’re always so busy now that it’s, like, do I wanna eat or get a tattoo?”

“Get a tattoo, obviously,” Sam scoffed from the couch, a hint of tease within his tone. He scrolled mindlessly on his phone, barely a part of the conversation, just a nuisance, really.

Ronnie met my eyes and rolled her gaze, “Anyways-“

I giggled at the interaction before returning my line of sight to her arm. She pointed upon another piece of art inked onto her skin, diving into the backstory for that specific moment in time. Though it looked, to any passerby, that she was simply splattered with random images, doodles, animals, symbols- there was meaning to each and every piece on her body.

Tonight’s show had been postponed until tomorrow due to the monstrous thunderstorm that knocked out the power on that side of the city. With half the town closed down and plenty of free time now on our hands, Ronnie, Sam, and I found ourselves in our hotel room. We had been laying around for the majority of the afternoon, random topics on our minds.

I was killing time until I could chase Oliver down in his room, make my big stupid love confession.

Having admired Ronnie’s tattoos for a while, I was glad to finally have some extra time to ask her about all of them. It was always nice to get to talk to her, especially this in-depth, about most anything. She was intelligent and, frankly, hilarious.

She finished telling me the story about the horseshoe around her elbow. Then, before she continued down her left arm, she paused, another thought having intruded her concentration, “Daz.”

I tilted my head in recognition of my name, encouraging her to go on. She gave a little grin, like she had some sort of coy idea floating around in her head, “You don’t have any tattoos? Right?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I definitely want some. Honestly, I get a little nervous,” I sheepishly admitted to what was holding me back.

Ronnie’s expression positively grew. I understood, based on the context clues and the way she peered over at me, what she was getting at now.

“Half the city is out of power,” I raised my brows at her. I wasn’t opposed to the idea- I, myself, even had a little smile itching at my lips. I was just…a little scared, to be honest. I hated needles, like any average person did. Plus, the idea of something so permanent on my skin terrified me. What would I even get?

“I know a guy. He’d come to us.”

“I don’t know what I’d get! I can’t do last minute things like this. I’ll regret it forever,” I giggled, though what I was saying was true.

Ronnie sat up, grasping my hands in hers. She clutched on, begging from her knees on the bed beside me, “That’s the best way to get a tattoo. Get something stupid, something you don’t even know if you like, so you can regret it and hate it until you finally decide to love it! Plus, what a memory we’ll make, Daz! We’ve barely gotten to do anything together this summer, yet you’ve become like a sister to me. We have to do it!”

Sam came out of the bathroom, face half-covered in shaving cream, razor dangling between his fingertips. He met my gaze as I turned my head towards him, a relaxed, pleased look on his brows. “Daz…”

“Sam..” I returned his tone, awaiting his criticism, his claims of me being too good-two-shoes to follow through.

His brows rose more, “Daz! Come on! You have to!”

“Sam, really? I thought you of all people would hate this idea! You really think I should do it?” I was shocked, to say the least. Where was his chidness? His disapproval? The daunting argument always between us?

Nowhere to be found. It was like character development, magically morphing itself before my eyes.

“You have to! You said yourself, this summer is supposed to be about letting go, having fun, being dumb. So far, I haven’t seen you let go and be dumb at all. So, you have to check those off your list! What better way to do that than by getting an impulsive tattoo?” He pointed.

If only he knew just how dumb I’d been this entire time.

I think he’d have killed me if he found out even just a shred of the truth.

He was right, anyway. What I thought was letting go, not caring- it wasn’t. And I knew that now. It was exactly what Adam had been telling me.

Oh, well. Sam would soon know the truth, once Oliver and I talked through the relationship. I’d deal with that hill after the mountain.

Everything between me and Oliver was out of my control- yet, I was clutching to the situation with white knuckles.

The idea of a tattoo was a distraction, a shred of proof, to myself, that I could control something. That I could genuinely let go of fate for a moment or two.

Besides, I’d always hear that tattoo therapy was the best kind of way to get through shit.

“Fuck it.”

So, there I sat, still in my pajamas, fuzzy socks on my feet, on the edge of my hotel bed, arm propped up on Ronnie’s friend Frank’s stand he’d brought with him.

I didn’t know what I was getting. Ronnie convinced me to let her pick something out, but I only let her do so if Sam had approved it first. The giddy expression on his face and the squeeze around my shoulders that he gave me signaled that it was a good pick.

My knee was bouncing. Anxiety that I more than expected filtered through my system like a poison. I steadied my breathing, focused on the fidget ring I wore on my left hand. Frank was setting everything up on this collapsible tablet he’d unpacked from this wagon he stepped into the room with. Ronnie and Sam talked his ear off, laughing over old memories they all shared. I didn’t even know my brother knew this guy, but I guess he had this entire life I didn’t know about in the first place.

I kept to myself, fit with the quiet introduction I offered and the stress that bled off of my skin in droplets of sweat.

more pre tattoo shit

“You love it?” Ronnie stood behind me in the mirror,

cutest poolside

“What the fuck!” Max bounded through the door. He had a Sleep Token bucket hat on his hair and I nearly snorted at how goofy it looked on his head.

But, any tease I wanted to prod him with was curbed as he brought his complaints further into the hotel room. He spotted me after looking over the rest of the habitants. His offended expression didn’t lessen, though, like I thought it would once he fell into his usual routine of laughter and flirts. Instead, when he approached me, towering over my lounged sprawl across my bed, he noticed the black ink pooling beneath the dermal-wrap on my forearm. His brows shot up underneath the rim of the bucket hat that I was beginning to grow just a little jealous of.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gotten into the boys’ music ever since the show. But I’d never admit that to any of them. Especially not my brother, who would’ve acted like the snarkiest prick because of his incessant need to be right, even though he was usually quite wrong.

“No fucking way!” Max climbed onto the bed beside me, crawling across the messy sheets by his knees. He stopped beside me and grasped my wrist in his hands.

The pull gently lurched me forward, forcing me to sit up. I dropped my phone to the bed beside me as Max dipped his head low, examining my new tattoo. I giggled at his wonderment.

“You got a tattoo! Without me! What the fuck! Daz, I’m hurt!” Max pouted, meeting my eyes with the puppy dog expression sinking in his brown ones.

Adam, Cyrus, and Oliver had shuffled into the room. The former two latched onto the tattooist’s conversation with my brother and Ronnie. They started bouncing ideas off of him as quick as one could blink. I wondered where they thought they could fit more ink on their already crowded skin.

Meanwhile, Oliver wasn’t being shy with how obvious he was, peering towards Max and I like we were a museum attraction. But, I was probably the only one to notice how his gaze first latched onto Max’s fingers, gripping my arm. Then, he moved his attention to my tattoo, trying to make out its shape from the distant angle at which he stood.

I felt it now, more than ever, since I’d confirmed the feelings in my gut and let them rise to the surface. Just looking at him, I knew it…I loved him so fucking much.

Though Oliver had averted his expression, his point of view, I knew what that first glance had been. I knew that burn in his gaze, the sickening claim in his pupils. Jealousy. So sickly sweet and insecure.

Suddenly self aware, if only because of that strange understanding I had of him, I slipped my hand from Max’s. I pulled my knees in front of my chest which expanded the distance between us. Though the movement was light, Max noticed it like noticed his own breaths.

His words stuttered for a moment, fading away as the proof settled in the room, “How’d you deci- decide….on…” He filtered his look from my face then over his shoulder, at Oliver. I had peered at the latter for a moment too long, a gaze which was easily noticed by my friend.

“On it,” Max’s tone fell off. Oliver didn’t meet his eye, his gaze latched onto my tattoo still. What had been an observational moment for Oliver turned into an avoidance of Max’s confrontation.

I was seeing through the smog now, the rose colored glasses just a bit dimmer than they had been before. And Oliver looked…he looked ashamed. Ashamed that Max was finding out, or ashamed that he had been with me? I would soon find out.

Max glanced back at me. I followed the curves on the sheets with a distanced glaze behind my lids, barren all the same. Then, Max looked to his friend again.

He waited for someone to say something. But neither of us would wave a white flag, nor would we confess to the guilty sin. My plan had been to tell Oliver how I felt, then tell everyone if I needed to.

And I didn’t really want to. Especially not Max. I felt like I’d betrayed his trust.

Max sighed, sitting up a bit straighter. He dropped a gaped, “Oh,” before pulling himself off of the bed, becoming a part of everyone else’s momentum.

My body paused, Oliver and I tangled in the poison ivy on the cream colored wallpaper behind me. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t breath, he didn’t do anything. He just stood there, anxiety bleeding off his healed scars like me.

I hadn’t expected him to jump onto the bed, proclaim his love for me, and tell the judgemental town folk that they just didn’t understand Romeo and Juliet. But, something other than his quiet treason would have been everything to my jittery frame.

I would have appreciated it if he had, at least, told Max to forget about it. If he would have shoveled some excuse off the tip of his tongue, defended me, us, the stupid love affair we thought was getting us somewhere.

But he didn’t.

He just fucking stood there, like he always did.

It made the confidence Id just built up waver a bit.

I was too anxious to really do anything, either. I couldn’t find the nerve to stand on my own two feet, let alone pull Max aside and try to excuse our indiscretions. The room was suffocating as the stress further settled in.

Max knew. Max knew.

He knew.

The cat would tear itself out of the bag any day now if I couldn’t get it under control today.

It was only a matter of a ticking time bomb. When would the seconds run out? When would the explosion shatter my skull?

I thought about running out of the room, tossing myself off the balcony.

But before I could find the strength to get my footing on the carpet of the hotel room floor, someone was saying my name. Someone was dragging me into a conversation, turning the room’s energy onto me and Oliver’s sad, pathetic, bubble of shame, anxiety, and ruthless obsession.

I snapped out of my fragile little frame like the chill girl that I was and answered the question Sam had asked;

“Do you remember mom’s joke? About the flowers?”

I rubbed my dried lips together until they morphed easily into a sweet smile. The anxiety was pushed back down, like it always was, as I played my old, now forgotten role, “Which one? She had that book behind the counter. She harassed customers with it. Said she’d been a comedian in an alternate timeline, but I don’t think so.”

Sam rolled his eyes gleefully. The room shared a laugh at the thought of some eclectic woman, chasing customers out of her flower shop with a thrifted joke book before her eyes. I remember one time she tripped over a pot and nearly fell onto the concrete floor, already sprinkled with petals and cut-off flower stems. She caught herself, but fell to her knees with laughter. Sam rolled his eyes from behind the counter, where he’d been doing homework.

But, I could see myself, 10, braided plaits in my hair, scurrying over from my seat at the window. I abandoned my book, something I never did, to bask in my mom’s joyous laughter, something I missed more than air these days.

I wonder what Oliver thought of this story, now knowing what he knew. I wanted to look for him, for a smile. But I kept staring straight, at my brother.

“I know, but it was, like- it was the one about the photos and the camera. Something, like…” he racked his brain, concentration on his blond brows. “Helping..plants?”

“Helping the plant photosynthesize!” I straightened up as the punchline lurched from the depths of my memories.

Sam and I laughed, louder than the others possibly could, as we shared a sacred vision, as blurry as my eyes, as fleeting as the smell of our mom’s perfume. She loved that joke.

I could do with a little bit of her humor, now more than ever.

The things she’d say, if she could see me now…

Regardless, I think she’d have liked Oliver.

“Well, don’t bother telling the joke,” Ronnie snickered, patting Sam’s shoulder.

I noticed the intensity of his bone, from just the longer of her fingers on his clothed-skin. But he easily hid that before it became obvious. I recognized that flinch…But my brain was too busy to really memorize the interaction, let alone evaluate it.

“You spoiled it!” Ronnie drew another laugh from the crowd.

The joking continued, though the topic moved away from our mom. My thoughts lingered on her, as Adam moved to the tattoo station, the artist having found a spare spot on his shoulder to put some symbol I couldn’t make out.

My attention turned to my arm, to the burning ink settling its way into the layers of my derma. Two thin flowers, stems rooted in nothing but my pink skin, no soil in sight, just the garden of my body. The petals shaped out the delicate curve of the pair of daisies, my mom’s initials written out to the left of the small bouquet.

I looked up when I felt someone’s gaze on my face. It was Sam, watching me admiring my tattoo with this awestruck way that only a brother who loved his sister could appear.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt the urge to break the distance between us. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tightly against me. He didn’t hesitate to embrace me, even tighter. When he pulled apart, he pressed a kiss to my hairline.

“I love you, Sam ham.”

He punched my shoulder.

I was so scared to tell him about Oliver, though I was now realizing it would have to happen eventually. Adam’s advice- unsolicited, sure- had given me so much clarity. I was running, so much, so far, on broken ankles. Running from the truth, from myself.

I couldn’t anymore.

I went to say something else, but a phone started ringing in the room somewhere. It wouldn’t have been too halting if, when I passively looked over my shoulder, it hadn’t been Oliver’s cell.

He tugged it from his pocket, curiously reading the contact across the screen. As always, he denied the call and stuck it back in his pocket. He’d told me before that he thought it rude to answer it in front of others. Yet, as soon as he put it away, it began ringing again.

He went to deny it, again, when Cy called out a tease from his seat on the couch. “Dude, just go outside and answer it. Could be someone important.”

“It’s not,” Oliver muttered, denying it.

It was ringing. Again.

“Your mom?” Sam inquired, brows furrowed.

I knew Oliver’s mom didn’t call often, a small detail he’d told me once in a fleeting conversation about his family, a set of people he didn’t really identify himself with if only because of the distance between them all.

So, when she did call, he’d always take it. Couldn’t be her, but I couldn’t vocalize this knowledge.

Oliver shook his head, confirming my suspicion. Everyone else that I knew he spoke to was in this room.

Spam, probably.

Oliver denied the call. It was ringing before he could hide it away, shut it off, hell- throw it out the window.

Oliver huffed, loudly. Sam snickered, then, a knowing chuckle that told me he knew something I didn’t.

“Ooo,” Sam took a few steps towards his friend, who was still seated on the couch. He peered over Oliver’s shoulder, who quickly hid the phone. “That tells me all I need to know.”

“Shut up, dude,” Oliver’s eyes rolled over mine, shortly, quickly, ashamedly.

This was, really, where things did start to fall apart, if I had to pick a singular moment in time and stamp it.

This was it. The end of it all. My demise.

Our fate finally crawling from our throats.

Where I thought I had control, where I thought I knew exactly how to handle the situation, cure our disease…

There were cells multiplying beneath our pale skin.

Max, sat on the couch now, stood to his feet with a sense of urgency. He met my eyes as I glanced at him, right before things clicked in my head, right before Sam opened his mouth. It was like he could see the future, his intuition screeching like a siren. Once the bomb dropped, I noticed the panic in Max’s eyes and looked back to my brother, towards Oliver, who gazed at me again, as fleeting as that final look was.

“Ah, it’s your little girlfriend. Knew you two would get back together. How is Fiona these days? Still annoying as ever?” Sam seemed amused by the moment.

He was so unaware of the drama layered just underneath the careless air he easily existed in, so unaware of the panic in my body as I fled from the room. I made no attempt to make myself seem casual or fucking chill.

Max didn’t hesitate to follow me. He was on my heels, hot as the summer air just outside of the windows.

But, I ignored him as he called out my name.

The air in my lungs was burning, like I was going up in flames from the inside out. Maybe it was that pain, or maybe it was the choking tears flooding down my cheeks, but- my vision was blurring. I was dizzy. Short-lived muscle memory is the only thing that got me to the elevator doors. But, I couldn’t find the button. I slammed my fingers against the wall, only feeling the dry scratch of the decorative paper beneath my prints.

My lips wobbled like a child’s, blubbers that were supposed to be sobs flustering out from my tongue. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?” I whispered to myself, pointer finger numb from how harshly I was jabbing the wall.

My harbors had gone up in flames. I was floating in deep, deathly waters with nowhere to anchor. Until- Max’s voice finally caught up with me. One gentle hand on the dip of my back, one carefully wrapping its fingers around my wrist.

I couldn’t resist, not that I really wanted to, as his towering, homely frame took me in, cradled me like the child I needed to be in this moment.

The elevator finally beeped, the doors opening like another set of warm, homely arms. Max guided us inside and peeled one of his hands away from me to press the button for the second floor.

I half-expected Oliver to chase us down, to lodge his body between the doors, grab me from Max’s arms. I wanted him to chase me out into the rain, flag down a taxi, meet me at the airport like some cheesy rom-com scene.

But, he didn’t.

In fact, he didn’t say anything to me for three whole fucking days.

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token smut #sleep token x you #vessel x you #vessel sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token fanfic #sleep token iii

[scaredycatqlt]

Alastor x lithromantic reader??? I thought it would be silly, or if you're not okay with that how about queerplatonic headcanons with Alastor?

Alastor X Lithromantic! Reader [PLATONIC/QPR]

Phew, thank GOD. (Or Satan ig.)

If you have romantic feelings towards him but don’t want them reciprocated? That’s the reaction he has. as long as you’re not trying anything, you’re good and he doesn’t care.

If the feelings are for someone else? He honestly could care less.

Since he’s from the 1940’s, he definitely doesn’t understand all the labels and stuff, but he wouldn’t judge.

I mean, he’s literally AroAce. How could he?

Doesn’t understand why you feel romantic things but don’t want them reciprocated. Just…confuses him. Doesn’t really care though, it’s none of his business after all.

Honestly I don’t think it would have that much of an impact on your guys friendship/QPR.

Oh, also, he wouldn’t call it a ‘QPR.’ He doesn’t even know what that means. But, in a way, that’s kinda what it is.

Contrary to popular belief, I do think he’s not completely touch-repulsed, considering how much he touches other people. (Coming from a touch repulsed person over here.)

He just doesn’t like being touched. For one, he doesn’t like not having control over things. ESPECIALLY what touches him.

but with you, he doesn’t really care. Now you can’t go playing with his hair or anything of the sort, it’s kinda like Rosie-how he lets her touch him and is chill with it.

MUSICAL NUMBERS TOGETHER!!! You guys definitely had atleast ONE. If you’re his platonic partner you have GOTTA love theatrics of SOME kind.

Introduces you to Rosie. Afterall, you two are some of the few demons closest to him. You and Rosie get along great!! ^^

Speaking of which, you three occasionally have like-a tea party together where you basically just gossip and shit talk other demons.

You guys might get mistaken for a couple with how often he hangs around you at the hotel. Anytime someone mentions it he just laughs it off.

Oh, Also, being his close platonic partner means extra protection. NO demon is going to touch you without facing HIM. (Besides Charlie and the others, of course.)

He’s more quick to ‘forgive’ (ignore) things you do that he’d typically slaughter other sinners for. Like accidentally bumping into him or something.

“Oh don’t worry about it, dear! Accidents happen.”

At a certain point, he trusts you with his staff. Ofc you don’t just go waltzing about all day with it, but he doesn’t mind if you hold it.

If you have a phone or piece of modern technology, don’t use it around him unless you want extremely petty comments and glares at said device. He doesn’t want Vox anywhere NEAR you. He also just doesn’t like them. At ALL.

I REALLY enjoyed doing these!!! <3 Alastor is my favorite character, and he rarely gets the nice, accurate AroAce representation he deserves!!! >:/

#headcanons #asks open #headcannons #my headcanons #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #asexual alastor #alastor x reader #aromantic asexual #asexual #aromantic #lithromantic #aroace

[inmyheadimobsessed]

More Than I Should {pt. 3}

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: in riri's mind of monsters, you were an angel. an angel whose attention she begrudgingly vied for. god, she didn't even know the extent in which she needed it — needed you, until you made yourself inaccessible.

word count: 12.9k (just eat the food)

chapter contents: riri being a grumpster as usual, but also kinda soft?, mentions of riri having nightmares, riri and keem are besties y'all, they love each other (YIKES!!), hakeem is actually a funny lil dude, riri is kinda emotionally closed off and getting clocked by her conscience?, riri being in denial, very hot and cold, very down bad (her feelings beating her ass), zariri being cute (sorry to their haters), smoking, riri spiraling a lil bit, reader avoiding riri

tags: @verachii @cjariot @blackgcomica @n7cje @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @shinsousliya @bratydoll @shuriri4life @axailslink @chidinma @percsane @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @quintessencewrites @adeola-the-explorer @dejaonline @bubshri @zayswriting @vixentheplanet @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @shurismainbxtch @cafehyunji @bigbigbigfan @andibecamethestars @saintwrld @mysticalmarss @sweetalittleselfish-honey @marsolgy @randomhoex @chatitajens @cuddl3s4shur1 @abenomeiiii @6-noir @melanated-queens @yamsthoughts @lppriceisright @shuriislut @playgurlxoxo @kya-rose @shuriszn @lluvstrksl4t

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: okay! and we back! i know it's been a minute, but i had to take my time. can't believe i'm finally posting pt. 3 ooh! i really like this chapter and it lays the groundwork for specific things i have planned for future parts. writing from inside riri's head kinda beat my ass though cause she DID NOT want me to tell y'all her tea, but we came to a compromise. reader isn't really in this chapter physically until the very end, but riri be thinking bout her when she brushing her teeth! sorry to the hakeem haters, that's my pookie! zariri hive up! (literally just me) i hope youse enjoy this, she's lengthy (big shocker) but it's justifiable this time cause i've been starving y'all. anyway, mwah mwahh!!

dedicated to my baby, whom i love dearly, @zayswriting more than i should #1 fan™️

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Sleeping; it's the body's way of recharging, the body's way of healing. For most people, sleep was tranquil, with dreaming coming as a necessary escape. Far removed from reality, there was to be solace in slumber — for most.

Riri Williams was not most.

Normally, this made her prideful, contrasting the majority, but what was to be said when your dreams mirrored the reality you wished valiantly to escape?

When it came to sleep, when it came to rest, she envied the mundane. Riri coveted being at peace whenever her eyelids fell. And she yearned for her moments loitering in REM to be more than brief ones.

The scenes behind her lids were recurring — prophesied long before Riri’s skin met her mattress. But despite this premonition, she permitted their slipping from her mind when existing within that slim pocket between consciousness and unconsciousness, and it was then that the monster seized his opportunity, creeping from the closet, on the prowl for his next meal. On the prowl for Riri, and her gorgeous mind, feeding on the memories dwelling inside the grooves of her brain, and forcing her to relive each one as he sucked them out.

This was the part she thought herself able to exploit — the extraction. If the monster removed the recollections for good, she wouldn't have to suffer this constant loop.

It’d been a naïve thought though, because this belief called for compassion. And if the monster — her monster — existed as one comprised of compassion, there would be no nightmares at all. Riri would be able to rest in her own bed, and the caress of another would not be desired when attempting to drift. Though Zariyah’s warmth did nothing to keep her still now as she lay entwined in her arms; he followed her here, to her girl’s place, so on spun the cycle.

Riri’s small body twisted in her girl’s sheets, writhing in distress through the frightening ordeal she’d been compelled to endure over the past few nights. She thrashed, chest tearing itself open to sanction her heart’s escape. Her monster siphoned her brain — grinding its contents with daggered canines — just before vomiting it all back into the young engineer's head so she’d be impelled to recall everything about that day.

Riri became one with the icy sweat clutching her frigid skin, knees jerking with her body's brash kicking, and she whimpered meekly, plunging into the depths of the horrors projected behind shifting eyes.

“Ri…” Riy blew it groggily, her own eyes still locked as she absorbed Riri’s movements. She drew Riri in closer, wanting to be her serenity, but Zariyah was unaware of the violence Riri recounted in her dreams while she spasmed beside her.

Riri launched herself upright, snapping the buckle of her girl’s embrace, gasping for a breath of oxygen as those freezing sweat beads traveling her flesh rolled down with leisure, not caring about the paranoia rocketing through the sinking chest they scaled.

Her monster retreated with a sneer, thwarted off by her abrupt emergence from silk pillows. When Riri’s eyes were open, cowardice swallowed him whole, because he was aware his tactics couldn't work on her barricaded brain now. She knew how to protect herself when she awakened — how to cage her thoughts — and he couldn't manipulate her here, in the real world.

Of all the objects in her familiar setting, it was the essential oil diffuser that steadied Riri's rugged exhales, and she allowed her breathing to emulate the timed puffs expelled by the cream-colored device perched on Zariyah's dresser.

“Ri baby, are you okay?” Zariyah whispered, soft and tired.

Riri glanced back at the naked silhouette of her girl draped in velvet, catching a glimpse of those pouty lips in love with her skin, and she chuckled timidly, watching a half-awake Riy feel around the mattress for her body. “Ri… lay back down, let me hold you.”

“I gotta go, baby.” Her knees indented her bare chest as she spoke, loose smile tightening the second Zariyah tossed that scolding glare her way; it seared, but Riri welcomed its burn, because her shivering frame had yet to fully defrost the chill in her veins.

“Another nightmare, Ri? What's this, the third one this week?”

Third one this week, fifth one this month. But Riri wasn't counting.

“I’m fine, Riy,” It slipped off her lying tongue readily, free-falling from her mouth before dissolving into the gust of Sandalwood oil mugging the air. “Go back to sleep baby, Ima just let myself out.”

Zariyah was unconvinced, and her frustrated sigh consumed a stumbling Riri as she tripped out of bed, fumbling around in the darkness to put her clothes back on. “I know you're not fine. And I need you to get your lil ass back in this bed, Riri.”

Riri wanted that, fuck, she needed it. That incessant voice in the back of her head throbbed so sweetly, pressuring her to climb back in bed, mold into Zariyah, granting her addictive kisses the power to sedate her.

But for unbeknownst reasons, the forces of the universe thought her undeserving of simple pleasures, and Riri lacked the desire to fight back, not with the splitting headache from the fucking lobotomy she just barely survived ringing in her temples. So she made leaving Zariyah's arms her only option. “Z, I can't stay. Not tonight.”

“Riri.”

The smaller girl stilled, Riy’s frigid tone frosting her melting arteries once again, and she rolled her eyes, gaping down at her ever-trembling hands. “Everybody has bad dreams Z, why you making it a national emergency cause I’m getting them?”

“Because I give a damn, Riri. And you been shaking and shit in your sleep for three nights, it's concerning.”

Riri pulled on her hoodie, then turned, capturing the troubled look in her girl's stunning eyes, trouble she put there. Riy sat up, crimson curls peeking out the top of her head scarf as she eyed a fully clothed Riri, allowing the covers to fall from her nakedness.

And her nipple jewelry danced in the dark, hypnotizing Riri from where she stood. The sight alone should be enough to keep her here, her eyes fanning their expanse as she got lost in the work of art that was Zariyah’s illustrated body. Tattoos her fingers traced a few hours ago, piercings that created sinful friction against her build; the memories made her moan aloud, and she chewed her bottom lip when she felt her smirk’s approaching climb.

Riy tossed a pillow her way, full in her force, but she ducked, barely dodging the thing, “Girl, stop staring at my titties and talk to me. I can't stand yo ass, I swear.”

Riri’s laugh was low, and it was mostly genuine on her short walk back to the bedside she previously indented. Mostly. “I said I'm good Z.” Maybe repetition could be enough to persuade, both Zariyah and herself, Riri thought.

She leaned over, puckering her lips in Riy's stern face pleadingly, but Riri was not met with the contact she grew desperate for. Zariyah craned her head to the side, denying Riri’s wet mouth as she crossed her arms, removing the view of her gorgeous breasts as well. “What? I can't get a kiss now?”

“No.”

Riri raised her eyebrow daringly, “No?”

“That's what the fuck I said.” Riy huffed in annoyance, making Riri grin slightly.

“Would it make you feel better if I said it wasn't the same dream every time?” She knew Zariyah wouldn't let her leave without an explanation of sorts, and this wasn't a lie, not entirely. Her nightmares were serial, sure, but there were many angles of that day, and a plethora of memories that could be used to torment Riri’s psyche. And used they were; her monster held no belief in leftovers, so he denied Riri the luxury of leaving any semblance of her trauma untouched.

Riy groaned, “Why the fuck would that make me feel better Riri?”

“They're just dreams, Riy.”

They were just dreams. It's what she told herself anyway, and one day, she would arise from the never-ending nightmare that was life without her dad, and life without her best friend.

Zariyah crawled toward Riri, hooking her chin over her shoulder before pressing a kiss into her sweaty throat. “You promise?”

And Riri’s head sprang immediately, because her nod was practiced. “Yeah.”

Her tremoring word was devoid of credibility, but Zariyah let it suffice, and fuck if Riri wasn't grateful for that; she already felt her lie cracking, her weak facade crumbling, and she wasn't sure either would remain intact if her girl continued the grilling.

Smiling into the hot pecks adorning her neck came with ease and satisfaction as she looped her favorite fingers around her middle. “Z…”

“What is it Ri baby?” She smirked, tongue lapping that sweet little spot she knew drove Riri insane, and when she produced that sigh she sought after, Zariyah pushed off her entirely, settling back into the comfort of her linens.

“You gon gimme my kiss now? Before I go?”

Riy giggled, “Hungry ass always want my mouth all over you.”

“You know I do, Z baby.” Riri stood, turning to face her as she slowly caressed her inked throat, capturing the heat of Zariyah’s mouth on hers. She ingested the flurries of Riy’s moans, anxiously awaiting the assertive way the golden sphere punched into her girl's tongue dominated her own.

It was impossible to stop her fingers’ wandering; Zariyah kneeled undressed for her, whining for her, making Riri feel like everything would be alright if she slipped back into those taunting threads.

“Stay…” Riy practically whimpered it, digits finding their way beneath Riri’s hoodie with a mission, and if she didn't break away soon, said mission would be accomplished.

When they parted, Riri drank in those dazed irises that cared for her, smiling faintly before pressing another peck to Riy’s plump lips. She stroked her cheek, wanting to bask in the gentleness of her girl’s skin, needing the reminder — gentleness was hers to claim if she so chose. It was here, Zariyah was here, quite literally at her fingertips. But she supposed it was more in her nature to fall victim to the universe’s spell, easier to accept haunting dreams and sleepless nights to be her fate.

So she gathered her scattered things in the shadows of the room, inhaling sweet Sandalwood before heading to the door sporting a stupid little grin subject to melting away the minute she left her girl’s presence.

“Bye, baby.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder, gripping the bedroom door as she allowed herself one last look at a worried Zariyah gazing over at her, those bright eyes of hers dimmer now, pleading almost.

“Be s–”

Riri laughed halfheartedly, “Be safe. Yes, I know, ma. I always am.”

•••

Arriving to her classes on time had never been a task Riri prioritized; showing up was enough in her book, and the activity was never to become practiced behavior. But, the terror reposing behind shut eyes served as quite the motivator today, encouraging her to attend each of her classes wide-eyed and hopped up on caffeine.

Riri hadn't even made it back to her dorm after leaving Zariyah’s; she solicited refuge from the freezing walls of her garage instead, and in the challenge of her latest creation.

She'd found herself doing that, building devices she likely had no use for, more so than usual. Riri’s instinct to constantly construct, coupled with her desire to keep her eyes open often resulted in impressive, yet unnecessary productions. Because what could her need for an arm cannon that doubled as a 3-D printer possibly be?

Regardless, it was something to do, so she stayed there, well into the early morning ignoring sleep’s call, and when the Sun climbed the sky, Riri was relieved to have survived yet another night.

Alongside her monster, someone else rummaged through memories she wished to bury — you. As much as the young engineer wrestled the acceptance of it, Riri was aware she’d hurt you that night, she'd caught the slightest glimpse of the expression coloring your features just before the door slammed shut. Regret rushed her immediately after, berating her as she came to a sole conclusion: hurt did not belong on your face. But it was there, because she put it there, and she was not deluded enough to believe she hadn't gone too far.

The physical image of you remained scarce after that night, throughout the week, and this bugged her for reasons she refused to acknowledge. Not being able to deconstruct you as you twitched beneath her watch, not being able to gauge where she stood with you after what she'd done unsettled Riri.

And this too, fueled her timely arrivals. Riri had been skipping all of her classes for the past few days, neglecting the homework she had piling up, disregarding her phone's consistent dinging. Today was Friday though, and Riri liked Fridays.

She got to see you today.

When she strutted into the room, Riri’s feet halted unexpectedly, her white Air Maxes screeching on the floor as her eyes scanned the large, mostly empty space. She was one of three students who'd arrived early, too early, the sound her sneakers made shifting all gazes to her.

“The fuck…” She muttered it under her breath, side-eyeing her professor who seemed astonished to see her. She made the quick journey to her row in the back, the one you two shared, eyes rolling instinctively and Riri sat, lying wait.

Riri knew herself to be impatient, but the extent was forever lost on her before now, before she was made to anticipate your entrance. She exhaled anxiously, leg bouncing as she feasted on the flesh of her raw bottom lip, thus making it the only content she'd ingested all day. Sickening, Riri thought, but her stomach accepted whatever she had to offer; constricting; grumbling as its acids dissolved the dead skin.

Feral eyes darted to the door following the slightest sound of footsteps strolling into the classroom, but she grew irritated every time the person entering wasn't you. Was this normal? Were you late? You couldn't be late, you were never late, she was just uncharacteristically early.

“Someone's sitting there.” She spat at some random blonde girl gunning for your seat.

The girl's smile shook under the obvious agitation Riri laced her words with, but it didn't melt away when she asked, “Who? It's empty right now, I just–”

“Does it matter?” She shoved her backpack into the chair, leering at the girl who’d now gone beet red. “It ain't gonna be you. Move.”

“But I–”

Riri possessed the ability to intimidate, in spite of her height, she also knew her words held force when she said them just right, “Go.” And she watched the girl scurry off with the blow of just the one. She was harmless, only looking for someplace to sit, but why would Riri care? There were plenty of others for her to choose from.

The dreams weren't a force she could control, not for lack of trying, but usually, what she could control was her chosen proximity to you. Riri would refute it if confronted, but being near you remedied, your aura was powerful like that; too powerful, she’d realized, and she despised its dominion over her.

But she couldn't deny she needed it now. So where the fuck were you?

Typical, she thought. Leave it to you to sour her mood, even now, when you were the singular reason she bothered coming in the first place. You aggravated her with ease, without even being present. Her fluctuation between hot and cold when it came to you perplexed her more than any equation taught within these four walls, or any algorithm she dared herself to develop on her many sleepless nights.

Every time she found herself wanting to extend a sliver of kindness your way, you found a way to fuck it up. Why were you like that? Why was she? She waited still however, the coffee she downed adding speed to her already twitching leg.

“Where the fuck–” Riri choked on her words, swallowing them back down as she permitted her eyes boldening when they spotted you prancing into the classroom. They softened, oh so briefly before she denounced the gesture, opting for another eye roll instead. Her gaping brown orbs — designated home to judgment and disgust — betrayed her often, when they focused on you that was. And Riri fucking hated that.

Your hair was done, gorgeous curls now protected underneath long soft locs flowing past your hips, past your ass like cascading fiery falls. They brightened the room and her bleak world alike, leaving her almost breathless.

Ropes of red suited you, she thought, suited your eyes, your face, your dark skin; Red was your color. Never had she thought a shade so vibrant and willful would be made for you, but you existed as a conundrum to Riri. She was staring, waiting, examining you from where she sat; you were speaking to Dr. Lucas, so she nabbed the opportunity.

Riri liked your makeup, she always did. She admired the subtlety of your soft beat, and how it opposed the defiant blaze your hair emitted. Your signature knife-edged eyeliner threatened to stab her as she prolonged her onlooking, making the short scientist curve her lips ever so slightly.

Your sweater though, it wasn't yours. She recognized its washed-out green shade. She knew the zipper no longer worked, and Riri located the small hole just below the left pocket with ease, because she was responsible for it; a very late night, and a joint. You were wearing Hakeem’s sweater, and her insides dropped at the revelation, making her gag just as you looked up at her.

Fuck she was pathetic.

Riri scoffed at her own involuntary sound, exhaling an intake of air as she prepared for you to join her on your shared row. You watched her intently from where you stood in the front, brow arching in that perfect way she liked, signifying you were already annoyed by her glaring. Riri smirked at you, feeling that familiar burst of thrill that slithered through her system whenever the pair of you locked eyes, because she knew she had you, hooked on her line like a fish — you made it too easy.

Except, she didn't have you, and Riri realized this a little too late for comfort. You broke the stare, seemingly unbothered when you plunged into an empty seat on the front row, your body lithe in its descent, and Riri’s right eye mirrored her leg’s tic.

This was not your routine, and deviating wasn't your normal, Riri studied this, learned this, knew this. You were supposed to sit on the last row with her, two seats over from her, and she expected to see your face. It's why she chose this spot at the very beginning of the semester.

Your eyebrows always knitted when your professor spoke, you listened attentively for as long as you could, chewing on your pencil's eraser when deep in thought; she was supposed to witness this. God, your infinite eyes. Riri was meant to view them fluttering shut when you inevitably began dozing off. Your neck was supposed to jerk, you'd spring up, catch her eyes, she'd laugh, and you were supposed to be annoyed that she laughed.

This was your routine. So why the fuck were you sitting in the front row? Why the fuck did you have your back to her? Why the fuck was she being made to stare at your head? And good lord, why in the blue fuck did the distance between the pair of you anger her this much?

Riri didn't like this.

Dr. Lucas’ rambling about visualizing solutions using direction fields and approximating them using Euler’s method made no home in her jumbled brain; his monotone voice worked only to amplify her confusion. Were you ignoring her?

You, ignoring her? The notion didn't even seem plausible the longer she sat with it. Was it because of what she'd done last week?

Riri's eyes were locked on the back of your head for the duration of class, brain mulling over the events of last Saturday night, forcing herself to recount her actions, her words — becoming her own monster as she snarled. Surely you couldn't still be stuck on that. Right? She’d noticed the way you never stayed upset with her for too long, perhaps she could even admit she took advantage of it, because she had not anticipated… this, whatever it was.

It was a slap in the fucking face, she decided. You were trying to piss her off, and it was fucking working.

Her knee continued jumping as she was made to count the brick parts in your hair. It wasn't hard for her to calculate the exact number of locs in your head, she fixated on doing it, guessing, before concluding that it’d be an even number: fifty-two. They were perfect; intricate; precise, just the way you liked things.

You're not a dummy.

She’d hoped the sharp daggers she tossed down at you would at the very least, make you turn with a threatening glower, but you remained forward, fiddling with the broken zipper on that stupid fucking sweater, and Riri remained frustrated. Because she knew you felt them, her pointed daggers; you made no move to dodge them, and you tensed after each throw.

You’re not a dummy. Turn around.

This right here was why she didn't like you, why she couldn't like you, because you played with her, you tested her. She couldn't stand it, blood boiling over the longer she watched your pencil move and wrist flick from behind.

You're not a dummy. But you're behaving like one. Turn the fuck around.

She contemplated moving down to sit beside you, but class ended ahead of her internal battle, and she reprimanded herself for even entertaining the thought immediately.

You were on your feet, quicker than she'd ever seen, trying to escape her; Riri could recognize this because it's what she did, and she'd be lying if she said your exit speed had not been formidable.

But she refused to focus on your ability to impress, because this role reversal quickly became another thing eating at her delicious brain. She stalked you out of class, teeny feet doing what they could to keep up with your long strides; Riri was quick, but it seemed today, you were quicker.

Why the fuck was she resisting the unyielding urge to scream your name as she chased you? Who the hell gave you the right to stride away from her, gracefully at that, like she didn't matter? Who the fuck did you think you were?

Riri didn't like this. She really really hated this. She gasped when her lips parted, your name teasing the tip of her tongue. She bit it back though, enraged. You forced her to stare at your dancing scarlet locs, and perfect swishing hips cloaked by that ugly green fabric as you strutted away from her.

Riri would not allow you to get away with this little attitude you’d adopted. You wore it well though, confidence. Fuck. But she would have to get to the bottom of your shift in behavior. She was not invisible, and you would pay attention to her.

As she backed away, embarrassed, her back collided with the front of another student, sending his things tumbling to the ground, “The fuck is wrong with you? You walking with your eyes closed or something? Don't fucking bump into me are you crazy?!”

“I'm sorry I didn't–”

“Oh! Oh! You didn't?” She mocked, fuming. “Fuck outta my way.” She huffed, stomping off and out the same door you’d just exited, tiny fists balling at her sides.

•••

The weariness Riri fled all day had finally caught up to her, compelling her to permit the shutting of those heavy eyelids. Her torso bent, slumping forward, head plunging down onto her work table where several tools dug into her cheek. Riri didn't care though, in fact, she remained blissfully unaware, drooling all the while as she succumbed to a dreamless nap.

Her garage existed as her refuge, the one place her scavenging monster had yet to infiltrate. She was safe from him here; she could sleep here, without duress. And she slipped immediately, because she was tired, really fucking tired.

The fatigued girl hadn't even relished in the luxury of dozing off for fifteen minutes before a thunderous pounding frightened her awake. Continuous, jarring, and disturbingly rhythmic — Riri allowed the noise to usher her off of her stool, and onto the ground with a grumble. She jetted over to the side door, ready to reprimand the only person she knew to be so obnoxious.

Upon opening it, that sickeningly cheery smile she'd begrudgingly grown to love greeted her, and she grimaced on command. Hakeem marveled down at her whilst patting the crown of her head, teeth, and diamond earrings stinging her slit irises.

“Nigga, the fuck are you doing here?” Riri jerked from under her best friend's touch, holding tightly to her slipping scowl.

He moved her miniature body with zero effort, stepping around her and into the garage, his smile never wavering. “Uh, you texted me goofy.”

“I did?” Keem nodded absentmindedly, wandering deeper into Riri’s sanctuary, becoming enraptured with her latest sketches. “Oh shit… I did.” It was only then that Riri remembered, so caught up in the promise of rest, her actions had completely escaped her. She'd texted Hakeem to come by after his last class, her elusive intention buried beneath the message itself; Riri was hoping — praying — you'd tag along like the puppy you were.

You were back on good terms with him now, well, good enough according to him, and you never seemed to understand when you weren't wanted somewhere, so she figured you'd pout your way into accompanying him. Riri was desperate for a chance to question you about your behavior towards her earlier; she couldn't move past it, despite her efforts. And your blatant disregarding of her existence joined the long line of entities overrunning her busy brain, what was left of it anyway.

Why would you just ignore her like that? You weren't supposed to ignore her like that. You’d never done it before, why now? Why today? The single day where she needed you. So fucking selfish.

Riri craned her neck out the door, almost tripping the longer she extended it, searching for you, waiting for your face to appear in her doorway.

“Don't worry, I ain't bring her this time.”

“What?” She whipped around.

Hakeem chuckled, picking through Riri’s things on her table nosily, “Ooh, what's this?”

“Keep ya nasty lil fingers off my shit,” She strutted over to him. “And what you mean you ain't bring her this time?”

“She ain't wanna come.” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the desperation guiding Riri’s words, and the disappointment coloring her tired lips when they fell. His eyes and lanky fingers were too busy tracing the images on Riri’s board and the scattered parts surrounding it.

You didn't wanna come? Since fucking when?

She cleared her throat awkwardly, dousing the flames crackling in the void of her tummy, “Well, uh, good. Cause I was getting tired of you always dragging her ass around me unannounced.”

“What kinda top secret–” Hakeem's eyes widened, glazing over with a hint of awe, “Riri, is yo ass building an Ironman suit?! Please please please tell me you building an Ironman suit!”

She nearly let her lips curl after noting his legitimate excitement, but she deadpanned instead, face slackening, voice taking on its signature bored infliction, “Yes Hakeem, I'm definitely building a damn Ironman suit.”

Sarcastic and sardonic — the only way Riri knew how to be. Sometimes her cynicism concerned her, like now, as she chose to remain cryptic, when the option of being open with her best friend about her work existed as an easier choice.

“Your sneaky ass would be doing some shit like that.” Hakeem cut his eyes, and Riri rolled hers.

“Anyway! Move away from my things, thank you!” Both palms indented his stomach as she guided him over to her computer screens.

He harrumphed, still suspicious, but ultimately choosing to drop it, making Riri sigh. “What your itty bitty butt call me over here for anyway?”

She prepared for this question; this entire interaction was drummed up immediately after your departure earlier. What she hadn't prepared for, was your absence; it threw her ever so slightly, more so than she would ever admit. “I can't just wanna hang out with my best friend?”

Hakeem laughed, and its vigor shoved Riri into a fit also, settling her anxiety some. “I uh, I need your help finishing up this reprogramming.”

“Ain't no way you called me over here cause you need my help.” Hakeem snorted in disbelief.

He wasn't wrong, she didn't need his help, she didn't need anyone's help, she'd finished this exact project two days prior for another student. But she wouldn't have minded yours. Why didn't you just fucking come like she expected you to? God, you were so damn irritating.

“I um, I do, actually. I was supposed to have it done for one of them rich white kids but, I-I haven't been able to focus on it, or anything school related if we being for real.” She grumbled that last part shyly, but of course Hakeem's fucking elephant ears picked up on it.

He eyed her cautiously, before speaking, “And why you can't focus on anything school-related, Riri?”

“You gon help me or what?” Meeting his eye line didn't present itself as an option, so Riri fiddled with her computer mouse instead, opening the software that had finally downloaded.

“Answer the damn question.”

Riri sighed, shooting the tall boy a brief look. “Don't make a big fucking deal about it, but, the dreams are back.”

“See, I knew it. That's why you was sleeping here and shit? Riri you can't be sleeping in this garage, it's not safe, you–”

“Bruh didn't I just tell yo ass not to make a big deal about it?”

His scrutiny made the scientist flinch; Hakeem could be unnerving when he chose to be, and Riri found his easy way of shifting to be daunting, like the immense pressure felt from his spiky stare, and the abyssal drop in his lively tone could be enough to scare every answer she concealed straight from her drying throat. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

She watched his brows knit, eyes sullen as he regarded her with concern. “A little bit.”

“Mmm, why I don't believe that?”

She huffed, “I was actually tryna sleep a few minutes ago, but your ass pulled up, knocking on my shit like you had a warrant.”

“Riri, you can't sleep here.”

He was right, she knew this, but who would she be if she didn't challenge him? “Nigga you ain't my daddy.”

Bitter words Riri regretted instantly, as she gaped at her silent, staring best friend.

She loathed those eyes of his, the way they perceived her, thawing her frozen facade. She'd labored endlessly to forge her high walls, only for her work to be rendered useless; Hakeem bulldozed straight through their very foundations.

“Ri.”

She shook her head, “Can you just help me?”

“You lucky coding is kinda my shit.” His grin reemerged slowly, like it never left.

Though she still craved sleep, the buzzing inside her was beginning to still, being near Hakeem did that. The pair of friends worked silently next to each other, swift fingers smoothing over keys. Riri was grateful for the company, grateful for her best friend, his willingness to lend his time and mind.

“What are they about? The dreams, I mean.” He caught her eyes when she glanced timidly up at him, and immediately, she snatched them back.

Never had Riri disclosed the contents of her dreams to anyone, not even Hakeem. He knew about her Dad, about Natalie, but she'd kept him in the dark about the details.

“Don't wanna talk about that,” She chewed her lip, mind defying her, running to you when she glanced up at his screen. “And that whole line is wrong.”

He chuckled a little when he realized she was correct, bringing back the annoyance she thought to be previously settled. “Thought coding was your shit.”

“I ain't said I was perfect, bruh damn, ” He picked up on her indignation, good. “How much you getting paid for this anyway? I can get a cut?”

“You be too deep in my damn business, bummy.”

Her patience was bred to be thin, but today, it's like you made it completely nonexistent with your antics. What pissed her off, even more, was that she knew you wouldn't make such a simple mistake like your boyfriend did. You were thorough, rarely did you take your eye off the ball. Riri liked that, and it was probably the only thing she admittedly respected about you.

You should be here right now, assisting her as you did last week, diligently avoiding your boyfriend’s screw up. Instead, you decided to be childish.

But Riri couldn't shake the feeling that you were justified in your avoidance, if that's what you were truly doing. Perhaps you’d drawn a line somewhere and hadn't told her, maybe she crossed it with her actions, her words.

The moments prior to her outburst were enjoyable, she let her guard slip with you, not all the way, but just enough for the conversation to be pleasant. She laughed with you. Your mind intrigued her; called to her, and she felt inclined to answer.

Your hand in hers, your fingers between her own; it was shameful, but your apprehensive responsive full body twitches made it feel not so.

After a while, her stomach churned, scolding her reminiscent thoughts, and her remorseful eyes fanned up to a concentrated Hakeem caught up in correcting his mistake.

“You being real quiet Ri,” He sang, smiling knowingly, moving for the robot sitting on Riri’s messy work table. “Must mean you avoiding telling me something.”

He wasn't even looking at her, his focus set on downloading the firmware to the robot sitting beside the computer, yet somehow, he still decoded her. Riri spoke of walls and their supposed impenetrable builds, but were they ever up around her best friend?

She chuckled dryly remembering the spark of their friendship. A group project last semester forced them to work together, and Riri had every intention to remain guarded when around him. She wanted nothing to do with the popular black boy who spent most of his time partying with white frat guys. He had a reputation, on campus and in her mind.

Riri tried upholding her signature “don't talk to me” persona, but Hakeem bought none of it, and getting her to crack became more important to him than their assignment. Eventually, she did, because he housed a charm like she'd never known, and one could only deny that mischievous smirk for so long. He was quite proud of himself, latching onto her after that, leaving Riri with no choice but to become okay with his presence.

He was loud, rambunctious, extremely audacious, and always searching for the next party. A stark contrast from Riri who just wanted to smoke and build shit in her garage.

“I'm down for that, too,” He’d said. “You’d be surprised what these sexy ass hands can do, I'm tryna tell you.”

“Please don't ever say no shit like that around me again.” She’d retorted, expression wry, allowing him to follow after her.

She soon realized that his company had never been intentional, until her, making the pair an inseparable one.

“Not avoiding anything.” She fibbed, biting back a grin of her own.

Keem pushed the completed robot toward her, eyes narrowed. “Mhmm.”

“Riri, people care about you, you know?” She scoffed, not wanting to hear the spiel he chose to recite every time this happened. “I care–”

“Sappy ass nigga.”

But this time, he hadn't produced that signature laugh she grew accustomed to. Hakeem's dark browns swirled softly with compassion, leaking reassurance, making Riri stiffen as he stepped closer. “I mean it, Riri. You can talk to me, you don't gotta be so closed off all the time and shit.”

“Nigga you tryna kiss me? Back up.” Deflecting was her defense mechanism. She wished to let him in, shit, she probably needed to, but Riri knew she couldn't — wouldn't. Because letting Hakeem in meant opening the door for those feelings she struggled terribly to keep locked out. She could not chance them entering her barriers.

“I gotta go, Ri.” He sighed, defeated. Christ, he should know, he should know that Riri knew. Why did she have to say it out loud? She didn't understand why people required words to know how she felt, about them, about herself; they should just be able to fucking know.

“You need anything else? A hug?” Keem’s smile stretched, and she gagged immediately.

I need to know why your girlfriend is avoiding me.

But you do know why, don't you Riri? Isn't this what you wanted?

“No.”

Hakeem tugged her to him anyway, receiving not a word of protest from his tiny best friend, because she needed this too, this was nice. The space between his shoulders welcomed Riri’s exhausted physique, muscular arms flexing to swaddle her just right. Hakeem's cologne was so strong, so fogging, Riri found herself almost nodding off with her face pressed to his abdomen.

But another scent kept her awake, the faintest whiff of something embarrassingly familiar: You.

That light mist of smoky vanilla and saffron; one she didn't even know she could recognize until now. But there you were, spritzed all over him like you were his. And here Riri was, inhaling you deep, allowing you to enter her lungs as an oxygen dupe whilst her stomach ate itself.

She didn't want to pull away, because pulling away meant you'd be gone again, just like you'd left her earlier. So, she buried her face deeper into his shirt, diving further into your smell until Hakeem's no longer existed in her nostrils, until the aroma of you alone began to drown her, and she sighed.

Hakeem's reverberating chuckle assisted her resurfacing, and Riri grew hot all over when he pecked her atop her braids, burning in her furnace of guilt.

She let him go, rougher than she intended to, but he didn't seem to notice. “I knew yo weird ass wanted to kiss me.”

“I love you, Ri. You know that.”

“Yuck!”

He smiled, using those fucking dimples to unveil her own petulant grin, “I know you love me too. Ima see you, Ri. Try to get some sleep, aight? Preferably in a bed?”

She did love him; Hakeem was the person Riri was closest to, her lifeline, and this sentiment only worked to further her stomach's self-consumption as she watched him drive away.

•••

There was something to be said about an angry Riri Williams on a mission. Those speedy little legs of hers were thrusted forward by rage, her golden R pendant bouncing atop her chest with the same ferocity, clinking in tandem with the other chain adorning her slick neck.

She was hot, and tired, as the Sun blared its rays directly into her cocoa irises, but still, she refrained from turning her fitted hat forward to help shield her eyes. Her steps were so brisk, warm air wooshed in her ears, and the ends of her braids tucked beneath her cap slapped violently against her back.

When her phone buzzed in her fist, she hoisted the screen to her face, eyeballs turning in her head just before she swiped the message away so she could focus on the tiny red dot she was tracking.

She lowered the device, storming toward her target with a stern face.

“I see that phone still work.” She approached the brown-haired boy sitting with his friends, his face falling the second he took in her wild expression.

“Uh, hey Riri, what–” She snatched it from his stubby fingers, eyes fixated on the way they trembled when they lost their grip on the thing.

It was unlocked, great, less work for her. “You sitting up here real comfortable, snacking and shit, like youn owe me a band, and change.” Her vision was trained on the iPhone she seized, scrolling through various apps until the one she sought jumped out at her: Venmo.

“Sorry, I uh, I forgot. But I thought we agreed on seven hundred.” The boy peered over at his alarmed friends.

He attempted to reach for his phone, but he'd underestimated Riri’s guile. She anticipated his move long before he made it, stepping back, holding the device to her person. “Yeah, two days ago maybe, but prices go up the longer you take to run my shit.”

He was fidgeting, and Riri let her smirk curl, entertained by him. “Look, I did most of the work, I think it's fair that–”

“I’m the reason you got that grade you got.” She stated plainly, bored of the back and forth. She awarded herself the desired amount, allowing the defeated boy to take hold of his property once she no longer had use for it, and she plastered her face with a faux smile as she bobbed away.

“Fucking white people.” She mumbled with a head shake, turning her phone off completely as a measure to dodge the emails from her therapist she refused to respond to.

Riri plucked her nose from her phone, the Sun still working to abuse her eyes, and it was then that she saw you.

Steady flows of molten lava scorching her retinas, the rays emitted by the sky's ball of fire made an afterthought now. Riri’s legs stilled, her pupils dilating under the beams of your hair. She knew how she must've looked, gaping at you the way she did, out in the open, and her unwillingness to care mixed her mind. But she couldn't, care that was, not at the moment.

You wore that hideous green thing still; Riri was unaware of her disdain for the sweater until today. How many times had she seen Hakeem in it without batting an eye? It wasn't even cold out, like at all. Why did you have it on? You were so fucking odd.

Warm air blew your locs to and fro as you inched closer to her, making her hold her breath with each step you took.

You weren't looking at her yet, but surely you felt her eyes on you, on the way you clasped your backpack, on your nails. She hadn't noticed them in class, because your stubborn ass hadn't given her a chance to, but your nails matched your hair now. When she saw them last, was the night she held them, they were purple then.

They were still as long, still as dangerous, except now, they were painted red, much like the blood heating her ears.

Riri braced herself for impact; you were inches away, eyes boring directly into hers, so she fixed her lips into a hard line, something menacing, something deterring. She wouldn't speak first, no. In Riri’s mind, you were even, she was mean to you, you retaliated by ignoring her, so you were even.

You were so close, your perfume kissed her skin, and she smirked when your eyebrow jumped. Jackpot, this intense eye contact was to be her in.

But again, you’d managed to con her into believing she would be getting your attention. You didn't stop, your feet brought you to her, bypassing her, and you bumped her shoulder in the process without so much as a word. Riri was stunned, at a loss, as she whipped around to see you marching away from her for a second time today.

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a child. Riri was short, not fucking invisible. Where the hell did you get off? Why were you getting to her this much? You shouldn't be able to.

She blamed it on her lack of sleep, because was there another conclusion to be drawn? She couldn't, wouldn't, draw one.

With one last look over her shoulder, Riri headed in the other direction, dragging her heavy limbs back to her dorm with the hope of sleeping your likeness away.

•••

Riri lay unmoving on her bed, heart stunned into a sprint after yet another gruesome attack. She was awake, but locked lids provided aid in keeping her eyeballs off of the closet door in the distance.

That's where he resided, her monster, snickering in amusement at the state in which he left her.

Her dorm steeped in moonlight when she unstuck her face from her pillow, bathing her damp skin in streams that cooled. Riri’s vision barely existed as her eyes darted around the room, but despite this, her wells found the recently stripped photograph taped to her wall. She hadn't the heart to reframe it; keeping the film near loosened her constricting chest on nights like these. A slanted gaze trailed to the digital clock on her desk: 12:04 a.m. At least she’d slept some.

Riri sighed, hands moving before her brain could stop her, and she reached for her phone, scrolling through her recent calls before her thumb hovered hesitantly.

One ring, two rings, three.

She was going to hang up, having regretted the act already. No way h–

“Hey, wassup?” Hakeem's voice sounded groggy, oh good, she'd woken him. Surprising, Riri thought, a Friday night spent indoors was not his normal. “Nah, it's just Ri, baby girl.” So you were with him, and she'd woken the both of you with her desperate little phone call. Amazing.

Were you at his place? In his bed? Or, was he in yours? That image, the one of the two of you sharing the same sheets, was not one she needed on her conscience, so she did away with the thought, just as she pretended not to feel her tension band tighten in her abdomen.

“Yo, Ri, you good?” She remained silent on her end, thinking, spinning, spiraling inside her warped mind.

This call was a mistake. “Sorry, I uh, I didn't–”

“I'm on the way.” And then she was made to listen to that beep, beep, beep; Hakeem hadn't given her a chance to decline, not that she'd wanted him to. It’s why she called him, because Riri knew he'd know, without her having to say it.

She was shoving her head through the neck of her hoodie when her phone pinged, and she rushed to it.

Bestie Westie: I'm outside.

Riri rolled her eyes at the contact name every single time Hakeem texted her, she had no hand in it, but she wouldn't dare change it. She slipped her feet into her crocs after grabbing her phone and keys, making her way to her awaiting best friend.

Upon opening Hakeem's car door, a wave of heady Vanilla crashed onto her, its current forceful, and deliberate as hell, making Riri scoff. What the fuck did you do? Douse the seats in your fucking perfume just to taunt her? Three times now she'd been assaulted by your smell, three times she recognized it on command. Riri valued consistency, somewhat, she liked a pattern, but this one, this pattern of you — she was not fond of it.

She’d zoned out, Riri realized, involuntarily floating on the aroma surrounding her, and it was Hakeem’s voice that brought her back. “You getting in, Ri?”

“Yeah.” She collected herself, exhaling as she stepped into the car with a shy smile that Keem reciprocated, allowing her best friend to drive her off into the void of the inky night.

•••

“Wish Freeda’s was twenty-four-seven, could really use some fries right now.” Riri’s lips separated, preparing themselves to once again come in contact with the burning blunt her fingers clasped. Her drag was long, smoke gliding down her throat, collecting in her lungs as she held it, awaiting that familiar burn she craved. And then she exhaled, billows of white clouds blowing from her mouth.

“You and them damn salty ass fries.” Hakeem teased with a laugh that should be deemed too enthusiastic, even for him, but his high guided it, and Riri was stoned enough to match it.

She sipped her Slurpee, passing the blunt over, watching him accept it leisurely through hooded eyes. When the straw left her tongue, she slurred, “Look, that seasoned salt ain't nun to play with. Ion know what to tell you.”

“Seasoned salt my ass, swear Ion see your itty bitty butt eat nothing else. What that cholesterol looking like?”

The girl damn near cackled under the slow drum of the question, and Riri shook her head with a loose smile. “Cholesterol? Nigga, the fuck, I look fifty-five to you? I ain't worried bout no damn cholesterol.”

“What are you worried bout then? Cause I know it's something,” Hakeem took a hit, eyeing Riri tentatively where she sat with her back against the door. “That's when the dreams come back, right?”

His seat was halfway reclined, and he puffed a breath of smoke up toward the car's ceiling, adding to the haze existing around them already. He waited, foreseeing her hesitation before even she did, humming along with the song wafting out his speakers, patient as ever.

Riri didn't like this, she knew the question was underway, but she really fucking hated it; vulnerability was not a carried skill. She wanted to enjoy her high, to forget, momentarily, that her feelings were her enemy, and her brain was their friend. “I told you Ion wanna talk about that shit.”

“No, you said youn wanna talk about what goes down in your dreams. That's cool. But, I ain't asking bout that, I'm asking bout what's causing them, small fry.” He shot her a wink, or what she perceived to be one, smiling lazily.

Riri grimaced, vermilion-stained eyes regarding him with the utmost contempt, “Call me that again, see what happens.”

“Riri, you not getting off that easy. Now talk to me.”

A beat of silence befell them, per Riri’s doing, and she sucked her straw in again, forcing the taste of mango-lemonade to wash her mouth, needing it to pacify her speech. “Guess I'm just stressed,” She spoke after a while, and Hakeem bobbed his head.

“Okay. What's stressing you out, small fry?” He exhaled, a gust of gas following his words.

“Nigga.”

“Ri.”

The wrap touched her digits once again, and the drug entered her system, along with that fucking smell, your fucking smell, that for whatever reason, chose to follow her. “Ion know. I’ve just been feeling real weird over the past three months. And no the dreams ain't been back for that long. I just feel off.”

“Your classes?”

“No, well kinda this week, but not usually. Ion know what it is.” Except she did know, and she wished desperately to unknow; Riri wanted her lie to ring true, but, she had your perfume in her lungs right now, it was acquainted with her nose, her bloodstream. God, she could fucking taste it — taste you — there was no way for her to unknow that.

Hakeem tutted, and Riri’s eyes rolled. “Wrong answer.”

“What?”

“Ri, you know I know you. And I know when you fixing them lips to lie to me.” His arm extended, pinching her chin, and she recoiled in disgust.

“Eww. Weird ass nigga, don't touch me.”

He snatched the dwindling blunt from her, taking the last hit before placing all attention on his tightly wound best friend. “Soooo, you gon tell me?”

Riri huffed, swigging her Slurpee, her body unconsciously rocking to the current song. “I just told you Ion know what the fuck I got going on.”

“Sticking with your lie. Okay,” He threw his hands up. “You and Riy good?”

Riri giggled automatically, be it because of the weed, or just the fondness she held for the tattooed girl, she didn't know, nor did she mind. “Yeah. We good.”

He shook his head, “See, Ion understand you man.”

“Nobody gets me Keem, that's how I like it.”

“Ha.” He laughed dryly, “I mean ion understand how you have a baddie like Zariyah, and still playing games, you know shawty want you.”

“And she has me.”

He tossed her a challenging glare. “Y’all official?”

Hakeem was right, rarely was he ever wrong when shrinking her brain. Riri could admit that internally, but never aloud, because then she'd have to own her shit, and she didn't see herself able to. Not yet. “Man, whatever.”

“If I was you… Damn, what would I do with all that if I was you? Damn. Like shit Riri, the fuck is wrong with you for real?”

“Nigga, don't you got a girl?”

“You gon tell her?”

Riri deadpanned, wincing at the thought of you avoiding her entirely. “Like I would willingly talk to her.”

“Guessing y’all lil study session ain't go well last week? She been dodging yo ass like the plague.” He chuckled.

She couldn't pretend this blatant confirmation didn't pack a punch, even if it’d been clear as day. You were avoiding her. Hakeem pushed it into the open, and he found hilarity in your behavior. Riri on the other hand, could not pinpoint which of the sensations incited by your behavior bloomed the strongest in her depths. Anger? Irritation? Bewilderment?

Or could it be the one that lay dormant in her body until today, the sole sensation she detested, and refused to give attention to? “You shouldn't have sent her irritating ass to come check up on me.”

“Aye, watch it,” She heeded his warning, but not without an eye roll, of course. “You ungrateful as hell, you know that?”

Riri pouted. Its appearance on her face would never be permitted outside of this setting, outside of Hakeem's presence; she was too high to wipe it away. “I ain't need no babysitter.”

“Evidently you do, small fry. Yo ass need supervision, since you can't seem to sleep in your bed.” Hakeem spat his words playfully, but Riri knew him well enough to place his trepidation, about her, about her stressors.

“Stop calling me that shit.”

“Stop deflecting.”

“Whatever nigga.”

He was trying, and failing, to readjust his seat when he blew the chilling question her way, and maybe the fog in the car’s air created a mirage before her, because Riri was certain Hakeem's words frosted the melted dregs of her syrupy drink once again. “Why youn like her anyway?”

This sight of him, struggling with his worn-out car, should be comical. She should laugh. But, she couldn't, because this question, and its intrusiveness, stunned her into stillness in the passenger seat. “W-What?”

“Why youn like my girl? She ain't never did shit to you for real, but you always on her. Why?”

Riri Williams was a super-genius, and prior to this instance, there was no equation she thought herself unable to solve, no question she believed existed without a complementing answer. With effort, and a little elbow grease, she was usually able to make the seemingly impossible, possible. But that ceased to be the case now — she did not possess the response her best friend was in search of.

Because you were unsolvable. Her answers did not compliment you.

“Ion gotta like everybody, Hakeem. I barely like yo ass.”

And though she never presented herself as a friend, Riri had to thank the universe still, along with the high dazing Hakeem's expression as he started the car without another word, leaving Riri alone with the question he'd tossed out, blissfully ignorant to the damage he'd just done.

She fiddled with the pendant dangling around her neck, the pad of her thumb grazing the letter as she pondered: Why didn't she like you?

You were in her veins right now — she was gone off your smell. She liked that. So why didn't she like you?

Riri rolled the window down, basking in the cool air nipping her heightened skin as she poked her face out like a thrilled dog, resisting the tempting urge to actually stick her tongue out playfully. If Hakeem could dismiss his words so readily, why couldn't she? So, it's what she chose to do, in her final attempt to reclaim the lastings of her sanity.

The drive back to her dorm carried a consoling quietness, save for the silky whispers Hakeem's speakers breezed out, his pressing question long lapsed in her head. She hummed, eyes low as she made way for a goofy little grin to cross her once-contorted features.

“You good, Ri?” And for once she could answer this question truthfully, because Riri was indeed good, better than good — perfect.

She nodded, glimpsing at his matching smile before he stepped out of the car. “Aight, come on.”

Once back in her room, Riri fused to her mattress again, this time lacking fear. Because Hakeem was here, his warmth capable of keeping her monster at bay. He found the taste of Riri’s security to be rancid, refusing to feed when protection blanketed her.

“Wait, before I get in,” Hakeem kicked his shoes off at the door, his voice interrupting Riri’s thoughts of a peaceful undertaking. “Was you fucking in this bed recently, Riri?”

She leered up at him blankly with an unamused expression. He was smirking, brow cocked, expectancy apparent on his smug face. What an insufferable man, befriending him had to honestly be her biggest mistake.

“Nigga, if I was, I definitely changed the sheets. Now, be a damn gentleman and hold me, I’m fragile.”

Hakeem gagged dramatically. Riri wanted to smack him, but unfortunately, luck remained planted at his dreadful side, because her approaching drowsiness advised against the attack.

After placing his phone on Riri’s side table, Hakeem scooted in behind her, still smirking, still giggling as his lanky arms engulfed her far smaller build, and Riri begrudgingly relaxed into him, eyes barely shut before a new set of words attacked her ears, “Fragile cause you be getting that ass tore up? Zariyah be doing the bending, don't she? See I knew it, I–”

“I'm so damn close to strangling you. Shut up and go the fuck to sleep, goddamn. Don't never know when to stop talking.”

He laughed, pulling her closer with a loud sigh. Riri was seconds away from the sleep she sought when Keem's phone buzzed beside her, so naturally, she took a gander, coming face to face with a photo of you as his lockscreen, the notification ceasing to matter now.

Chasmal brown eyes spilling mirth as you cheesed at your photographer, who she presumed to be the boy knocked out in her bed. She studied every corner of your face, completely enamored by your skin’s deepness, before the screen went black again. It was so fucking swift, the way you'd wormed your way back into her head, a task you'd perfected it seemed, even in absence.

She lay there for a while, stewing. Shame should devour her entirely for what she did next, lord, it was low, and if the mocking rattle drumming inside her closet was to be indication, her monster agreed.

She was still high enough to cast blame on the indica she'd ingested, and a snoring Hakeem bore no threat. So, Riri tapped the phone again, your shining smile eliciting a gentle, dopey one of her own. The light faded, taking her consciousness with it. Tangled in your boyfriend's arms — Riri allowed you to paint your portrait behind her lids — becoming her solace as she slumbered.

•••

Sunlight seeped through Riri’s array of windows, blazing streaks greeting her first for once, instead of the other way around when she pushed her eyes open. They panned around her brightened room cautiously, still grappling with the belief of staying shut throughout the night.

Hakeem was nowhere to be found, but this was hardly surprising, the only thing remaining in his wake being the sticky note pressed to her forehead, his signature way of announcing his departure. Usually, the impact between paper meeting skin stirred her awake, but this time, he’d slipped out with stealth.

She peeled the small square off her face, scoffing at the blurry vision of his atrocious handwriting. The only legible words were ‘text me’ scribbled below a drawing of some kind, and she blew a laugh, sitting up to reach for her phone perched on her side table.

The action birthed remembrance, as she sat, glaring blankly at her phone screen. She wasn't high anymore, meaning acceptance shadowed her unwanted remembering — Riri dreamt of you. Your smile, your eyes, your fucking hair, God, you were everywhere in her mind as she slept. And she was awake now, compelled to reflect on this truth.

It was getting out of hand, her seemingly inescapable fixation with you, and quite frankly she was fucking over your witchy ways. This was her line drawing, you didn't get to infiltrate her life and her REM cycle, even if your kind eyes offered her the best sleep she'd had in weeks. She had to put a stop to this — she had to see you.

Riri: Lemme take you out.

Her phone buzzed in her palm two seconds later, making her eyes roll expectedly as she grinned, hitting answer. “You know, when people text you it's prolly cause they don't wanna be on the phone with you.”

“And when you get asked out, it ain't usually through a half-assed text message.” Zariyah chimed, her smooth voice washing over Riri like honey.

She laughed, timid and jeering as she bit her lip, imagining the smile that must also be on her girl's face. “What you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. That ain't how you ask nobody out. You wanna try again, lil mamas?”

“Man, you wanna go out or not? Cause ain't no–”

Zariyah’s reprimanding pitch held all of its ferocity through the phone, and it’d be a lie to say Riri didn't seek her girl’s signature bite, “Uh-uh, I don't play with you like that Riri, watch that mouth. I ain't one a them.”

“Oh you not?” She quipped, twirling the end of her braids poking out from under her scarf.

“Nah. Now ask me out properly before I hang up this damn phone.”

She waited a few beats, deliberately trying to piss off the gorgeous girl on the other line. “Ain't you the one who called me though? You the one who wanted to be on my line, right?” Her smirk played in her words, forming fully when she tuned in to that inevitable sigh of frustration she perked her ears up for.

“Riri. Don't piss–”

Riri’s fingers massaged the necklace clasped around her neck, kicking her dangling feet as she spoke, “I would like to take you out Zariyah. You gon let me?”

“That really ain't no better. But, I guess I can squeeze you into my oh-so-busy schedule. When's this date? This is a date right?” Riri detected the twinge of uncertainty lacing Zariyah’s questions, which only broadened her sly little grin.

“It can be a date,” She started, shaking her head at the butterflies waking in her depths. “Tonight?”

Zariyah giggled, “Tonight works. Where you taking me?”

“Just be ready by seven, which for you is really eight, cause you know how you be.” Riri teased.

She could feel the eye roll hurled her way, and Zariyah’s tone of voice gave away her faux annoyance. “Oh don't do me. Ima be ready when I’m ready, how bout that!”

“Okay Z,” She conceded. “Ima see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, Ri baby.”

She clobbered out of bed after ending the call with the dumbest little smile, socked feet dragging her to the bathroom. It only lasted so long though.

Riri glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror, hoisting her damp toothbrush to her mouth just as flashes of your lips flooded her senses, and she resisted the urge to smash her head into the mirror before her. Maybe a self-induced concussion could scrub you from her memory.

•••

“Riri, when you said you was taking me out, this ain't what I had in mind.” Zariyah’s complaints were predictable, making Riri shake her head at the red-haired girl straggling behind her.

She tossed her question back, already aware of the response she'd get from this as well. “What, you too bougie for Freeda’s now?”

“Yes.”

She stuffed her fist into her pocket, striding languidly to the door with that silly grin curling her mouth. Freeda's wouldn't typically be a designated date spot for Riri either, but she had to admit her intentions for the night surpassed the innocence of simply taking Zariyah out.

She wanted to see you.

You didn't get to act like she wasn't worthy of acknowledgment. And showing up to your job was sort of her last resort, because you couldn't avoid her here. Showing up alone, however, that could send the wrong message, hence, the Zariyah of it all. “Girl, shut up and come on.”

She opened the door, holding it wide for her unimpressed girl, but she smiled still, because Riri had that effect on her.

“Welcome in, Ima be with y’all in a minute. Just sit wherever.” You hadn't turned as you spoke, but your drawl made Riri shudder all the same. A rehearsed line, she'd heard it countless times on her many visits to the diner, but when you said it now, her hot blood ran cold.

She smirked to herself as she realized; Riri had missed the sound of your voice.

“Alright,” When you approached their booth, bewilderment charged your deep eyes, your forever-taut shoulders tensing in understanding. “H-Hey y’all…”

Oh, fucking finally, she’d cornered you, regaining her status, once again, as cat to your mouse. You couldn't run, the panicked lightning in your irises vindicating this fact, and Riri smirked, content with where she had you now.

Your eyes competed with hers, vehement, determined, wanting desperately not to falter. You were struggling under her scrutiny though, she could tell. And for whatever reason, it pleased her, knowing that even after your decision to steer clear of her, the cards belonged to her still.

“Aww Ri baby, Keem’s girl works here! Hi cutie. I love your hair!”

“Yeah,” Her eyes stalked your uniform, sly as ever, noticing the abrupt inhale you failed to bury. Your rising chest would pass anyone by, but not Riri, because she reveled in your body's mechanical reaction to her staring. You couldn't help it, poor thing.

God, she missed eyeing you until you shook under her unwavering gleam. She missed your face. Fuck. “She do.”

You cleared your throat, evidently uncomfortable with all of this, red nails strangling the pen in your vice grip. It was an intense sight to behold, a tad amusing, and it replenished Riri's weakened ego. “Uh, th-thanks. Can I start y’all off with s-some drinks?”

Riri couldn't speak, far too bewitched by your hair hissing her name, drawing her in close, close, closer until she caught herself sliding to the edge of the booth, causing you to back up some with a broken exhale. Her skin heated, attention fleeting your face as she scratched her neck awkwardly.

She understood it now, her sudden draw to you. It was your hair’s doing. Fucking Medusa. But with the ability to liquefy rather than harden.

Your hand pranced across the pad as you wrote what she could only assume to be Zariyah's order, she wasn't paying attention, her focus now collared by the jarring thing she thought to be impending: an eruption of blue ink. She pitied that pen, unaware that it’d just become a weapon of mass destruction. You were similar to the writing utensil in that regard; you too remained heedless to your power.

If only Riri was to be so lucky, because she knew the might you held, she fucking felt it. It's the same sensation she vied for yesterday in class, the same force she allowed to plunder her dreams. It was here now, bombarding her senses as you stood so close, colluding with your conniving fragrance.

That crackle of saffron she could recognize with the faintest intake of air.

“And uh, for you, Riri? You know what you want too or you need a minute?”

When you said her name she internalized how your soft eyes hardened, at the same moment hers melted completely. “Fries and a coke.”

“That's all you getting, baby? You sure?”

She nodded, head dancing to the beat of your hair's song.

“Okay. Ima get these in for y’all.” You smiled at an ever-clueless Zariyah, and Riri would trip into that too, if it weren't feigned.

Riy reached across the table, tattooed hands cupping Riri’s, “Ri, oh my god, guess what happened at work today!”

You walked away, tossing loose red tendrils over your shoulder as you dismissed Riri like an afterthought, and she couldn't help the flare of irritation sparking in her chest. “What happened at work today, baby?”

Riri had zoned out when Riy began her ramblings about the number of holes she poked in the faces of strangers at work, becoming distracted when a completely different server brought their drinks out. Was this another attempt to stay away from her?

She stalked your steps as you moved to clear a recently departed table, and she figured no time like the present.

“Z, I gotta go um, ask shawty bout an assignment for class,” She pointed to you. “Ima be right back.”

Zariyah nodded, smiling shyly, “Don't go too far. I'm gon miss you.”

“You're cute.” Riri huffed a laugh before standing, stepping out of the booth to make her way over to where you worked.

She followed the wave of your perfume, stopping short when she almost bumped into you. “Shit, my fault.”

“The fuck do you want Riri?”

“Oh we cussing now? That's crazy.” Her words worked only to piss you off, making Riri smirk some when they woke that breathing vein in your temple. “Talking to me like I’m Keem or something.”

“Riri, your food gon be out in a minute. Just go back to your girlfriend and let me do my fucking job.” You faced away from her, swiping the rag in your fist over the same spot for the seventh time since she approached you.

Riri chuckled, intrigued to see how far she could get with this unfamiliar version of you. “Bussing tables ain't really that hard though, is it?”

Your grip on the soaked cloth tightened, suffering the same fate as that mangled little blue pen from moments ago. “What the fuck–”

“That the only cuss word you know?” Her hip pressed into the table, vision trained on the soapy water gushing from the rag you were choking.

“Maybe. You know us dummies don't really got much going on up here.” You gestured to your head, knocking your finger directly against the vein blinking there.

She kissed her teeth, “You still on that?”

“If you not here to apologize, then Ima need you to get the fuck out my face, Riri.”

Riri barked a laugh, you were fucking hilarious. “Apologize? Ain't yo ass the one who broke my shit? I think them fumes you inhaling right now might actually be affecting your lil smarts, cause if anybody deserves an apology, it's me.”

You dropped the rag, regarding her fully now, your emotionless expression making her feel smaller than she actually was. Riri found herself wanting to breathe in your frustration as you blew it down to her, but she refrained. She shouldn't. She wouldn't. She could not. “Ion have time for this.”

“Okay, okay. My bad, damn.”

“Your bad?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes, your expression brittle as its dust landed on the small engineer stood in front of you, dry words bristling her entire body, you hadn't seemed to notice though. Because you didn't care, Riri realized. “And what is my bad supposed to mean?”

“Girl, the fuck is with your lil attitude? You said you wanted an apology, and your ungrateful ass–”

Your laughter carried, and it was loud enough to garner unwanted glances, including one from a rather bored-looking Zariyah at the far end of the diner. “Maybe Keem wasn't lying when he said your lil ass was funny, cause if this is your definition of an apology, we gotta get you on a stage and shove a microphone in them baby fists. It's giving comedian for real.”

This was the first time Riri Williams found herself lacking a comeback.

An empty stare colored her face as she watched your attempt to vacate her presence, leaving her brain with only one viable option.

She didn't stop her arm’s extension when it reached for you, and you hadn't protested when her skin touched yours. She held you in place, dismissing the intrusive thought encouraging her to tug you in closer. She couldn't do that.

You kept your flared eyes on her fingers wrapped around you, sighing unsteadily, the contact overwhelming you. Riri could tell, though she was unsure if this was her goal. She spared a glance at Zariyah who still peered at the two of you curiously, trying, and failing to care about the visual your current positions must be emitting.

“I ain't mean all that shit from the other night.”

“All what shit?” Shaky, damn near breathless — your tone from earlier had betrayed you, stealing your confidence, and placing it directly in Riri’s palm for her to do with it what she wished.

Her voice was softer when she spoke to you this time, housing patience as she refused to let you go. “I shouldn't have slammed the door in your face. I know that, I can own that. I know you ain't mean to break my shit.”

The slow creep of your smirk alerted her that she was wrong; your assurance had not waned; it blossomed, and her hand indeed remained empty. Blackness guzzled your eyes, and Riri was forced to watch as their mirth disappeared.

“Aww, you want a cookie? You ain't order one, but we got some in the back,” You pointed over your shoulder. “Ain't nothing you just said worth a damn to me. You don't get to show up at my job with some bootleg apology cause your guilty conscience keeping you up at night, nah, shit don't work like that.” You snarled, yanking your wrist free wickedly, pointing to the server bringing out her food. “Your food’s out.”

Again, Riri was left dumbfounded by your astute observations about her as you sauntered off to the back, your ruby serpents admonishing her with their sway. Their once euphonic hiss turned into lethal venom spat directly into her face, aiding her reluctant hand in concurrence — you’d turned her into the mouse she once chased.

Maybe she’d misconstrued just how powerful you really were.

“Ri baby, the food’s here.” Zariyah called, rescuing Riri just as she was about to sink into her mind’s rapids, and she smiled on her trot back to the table, abandoning her seat across from the taller girl, opting to sit directly beside her instead.

Riy gaped at Riri for a second, but she didn't question their new seating arrangement. “Everything good with your assignment?”

“Huh? Oh, um, yeah.” She upheld her lie, pecking Zariyah on the cheek. “I tell you how fine you look tonight?”

“Girl, eat them fries.” Riy rolled her eyes.

Riri laughed, but did as she was told, sliding a greasy fry onto her starving tongue.

Tastebuds tangoed with the flavor skipping across them, and she blushed, like actually blushed, the hot flush of sudden embarrassment baking her skin. Riri hadn't asked for seasoned salt on her fries, in all honesty, she'd forgotten to, too caught up in you and your embers. But there it was, sprinkled across her food just the way she liked it, and a small smile scratched its way free, etching its shape deep into her face when she noticed your emergence from the kitchen.

Exhausted eyes averted her vicinity, but Riri stared anyway, because once her gaze met your face, it was usually hard for her to rip it away. You could've requested the cook spit in her food, and it probably would've been justified, but you didn't. Instead, you did what you always did, you perplexed her just by being.

Even though you were angry at her, you thought of her still. You were like her in that regard.

The blush crawling her body stayed put the longer her pupils gawked at you. You were putting your hair in a ponytail, all fifty-two faux locs, well, except for one in the back. You missed that one. Riri didn't; it's where she fixed her brown orbs, on that lone loc dangling and tickling your pretty neck.

You were facing her now, the sear of her stare steering your turn. Irritation rested on your cheeks still, but it held no relevance, as she smirked at you, because your eyes had regained their mirth-filled deepness, and it took only the gentlest flick of your lips for her to plummet into their abyss completely unguarded.

As her smirk slackened, Riri felt her Earth shake, her highest walls deteriorating and coming undone all around her. The feelings she wrestled to keep outside would soon be awarded entry, and Hakeem's haunting question was on the verge of gaining an answer.

She kept watch of you, gulping down the remnants of potato in her mouth before surrendering.

Riri liked you.

And the acceptance of this truth scared her shitless, exposing her helpless little body to a creature far more petrifying than a measly little monster in the closet.

#riri x reader #riri williams x reader #riri williams x black!fem!reader #riri x black!reader #riri x y/n #riri williams x black!reader #riri williams x y/n #riri williams #myworks #lyricswriting #ironheart x reader #ironheart x black!reader #iron heart #riri williams x fem!reader #riri williams fanfic #dominique thorne #dominique thorne fanfic #bpwf #riri black panther #black panther wakanda forever

[cienie-isengardu]

I'm kinda weirded out that Bi-Han scars his brother and people act like him being a little mean to Tomas is his worst deed and he deserves to die for it or something. Bi-Han doesn't owe Tomas any love or respect. You don't have to like someone just because daddy said so.

I totally agree that hating Bi-Han for not liking or loving Tomas as a brother is pretty wild take on his character, because he did not ask for such a bond, the same as Tomas did not ask to be orphaned and adopted into Grandmaster’s family. Both were forced into a situation created by adults that apparently couldn’t act appropriately to the situation (e.g. killing Tomas’ mother and sister when the family accidentally trespassed on Lin Kuei territory and Grandmaster adopting Tomas out of shame / to save his honor rather than out of love/care for the boy). 

What is even weirder to me, Kitana and Mileena had in previous timeline(s) bitter relationship yet I don’t see fandom to hate original/alternative MK9!Kitana for rejecting Mileena ("You are not my family... you are a monstrosity!") and looking down on her because of Tarkatan blood (“[Shang Tsung] has created horrid replicas of me crossbred with Tarkatan blood!”). People apparently can acknowledge that Kitana was thrown into “sisterhood” she did not ask and the creation of “twin sister” happened out of her control and knowledge while also understanding it was no Mileena’s fault for acting and looking the way she was because it was how she was specifically created. If fandom can accept and support Kitana’s choice of rejecting “sister” on the spot without any empathy to look at the situation from her perspective AND AT THE SAME TIME can feel sorry for Mileena, then the similar treatment should be given to Bi-Han and Tomas, as they were presumably children who adapted to the unfamiliar situation in their own ways. However the main difference between those two scenarios is that Mileena is the “psycho” (so Kitana is excused for not wanting her as a sister) while MK1!Smoke is the personality-wise castrated version of MK9!Tomas who for whatever reason is now the fandom’s Cinnamon Roll that never did anything wrong and anyone who doesn’t melt at the sight of this cutie IS BIG MEANIE, boo!

A character not loving fans’ favorite does not commit a crime however fandom wants to present it as unquestionable proof of said character’s evilness. Fictional or real life, people are allowed to not like each other as the definition of family will vary from culture to culture, and from one person to another - it does not however allow anyone to abuse other people, but that should go without saying.

Bi-Han said mean things to Tomas, and Kuai Liang for that matter. He in general treated others in a similar, cold fashion. But objectively speaking he did much more questionable things over the course of the story, yet people are fixated on Smoke’s feelings alone - and to be honest, I'm not even surprised anymore by that.

But you know what frustrates me the most about fandom’s perception of Bi-Han and Tomas relationship? The amount of fanwork presenting Bi-Han as always mean, always abusive to the poor poor little Tomas which is not just the best proof the fandom is set to demonize kid Bi-Han for his adult self’s choices. It is the whole implication that Grandmaster and the Mother and like everyone involved in raising the brothers, all the masters and teachers did not act to prevent it from happening nor cared to correct Bi-Han’s action. And the most sick thing about that? Children imitate the behavior of adults. Do people really think that kid Bi-Han started saying "Lin Kuei blood only" bullshit out of his mind just to spit in the pitiful orphan's face? Like, really?

Stupid beliefs like that come from somewhere and children are taught by their parents and adult people around what “values” and traditions they should respect and follow. We literally know just three Lin Kuei characters and the fact that only Kuai Liang and Tomas rejected Sub-Zero’s leadership while the clan followed their Grandmaster implies Bi-Han’s beliefs are accepted and shared by the clan. So maybe instead of being so set on demonizing kid!Bi-Han - who so far was only said to be “always cold” to Tomas what is not equal to being abusive and cruel on purpose - maybe it is time for fandom to examine previous Grandmaster and the whole clan’s beliefs that A) were passed to Bi-Han to mold him into man he is today and B) apparently fucked up Tomas’ childhood so much.

#mortal kombat #tomas vrbada #sub zero #bi han #my replies #do i sound bitter? good because i'm so tired of this weird new trend to present kid bi han as some sort of bastard #always tormenting poor tomas while everyone apparently don't give a shit maybe beside kuai liang #like do you really think that grandmaster's son in a clan set to turn children into warriors to serve earthrealms #would be spoiled instead of taught the warrior discipline from childhood like everyone else? #and it may be just me but when i hear someone is cold it means he does not want to bond with you not being an asshole with sadistic impulse #but sure let's blame a kid bi-han and not the way he was raised by adults WHO SHOULD make sure kid Tomas was safe in unfamiliar environment #sorry rant over

[survivalove]

Kinda random, but what made me really start shipping Kataang was how determined Aang was to get Katara's necklace back from Zuko, especially when we know how important said necklace is for her both as part of her family and part of her culture. And the thing is, Aang is always doing nice things for Katara without expecting any reward, like offering to fly her to the North Pole and refusing to train under sexist Pakku. Things that made me go from "this is a cute ship with good development" to "this is my OTP."💙🧡

So true, anon that’s a great scene!! Hmm I don’t know what made me ship it cuz I was 5 when I watched it for the first time so I really didn’t care about ships. But as I got older I started watching the show for Katara and she kept touching him and asking him how she looked dhdjfj it was beyond obvious TO ME (bass amplified).

That and every time she cried over him. It just felt really intense I’d be like why are you crying queen 😫😫😫 she’s so extra I can’t.

But I think a singular scene that really made me ship them was in The Serpent’s Pass when he said she made him believe in hope and she cried. When I think about it, Aang’s opinion seems to mean a lot to Katara and I think he notices that and makes sure to praise her so she won’t doubt herself. I liked seeing the fmc be praised and loved by the boy she liked without having to grovel and look pathetic, you know?

That reminds me of a meta I read the other day about how Sokka (yes I have to mention sokka or katara when I talk about the other 🤪) doesn’t really take compliments and I think Katara is also like that in a less extreme way.

Like when she tried to discredit herself when she revived him with the spirit water and Aang was like hello you literally saved my life??? dhdjdj I don’t care what delusional fanon shippers have to say, Aang compliments and appreciates Katara more than anyone, and that’s my fave part of their dynamic.

Anyways yes I agree with you. Aang always does what Katara wants simply because he wants to and she wants to. They don’t really force the other to agree with them either, even tho they both clearly care a lot for each other’s opinions. I think the show does a great job of setting the foundation for their romantic relationship this way through all these platonic moments.

Back to my fave scene in the Serpent’s Pass, I especially like how that scene shows Aang letting go of one of his beliefs for Katara which is linked to bigger moment of him refusing to let go of her to master the avatar state in the Guru, and eventually finding a whole new way to end the war while still staying true to himself. I don’t wanna say Aang and Katara getting together is integral to his arc or her arc, but I do think they link it in this way on purpose, and it’s why a lot of people that claim “Aang never changed” often don’t ship Kataang and the same for people that hate Katara and call her annoying then say they didn’t understand the ship. Like clearly my guy.

Anyway, to sum up this ramble 🤭 this is why I love the Serpent’s Pass scene and think it’s very underrated among kataang fans. I’m curious to know what kataang scene made oomfs ship too? I loved this ask and thank you for sharing that with me anon xx

#atla #katara #aang #kataang #anti zutara #antizutara #kataangtag #my asks #pro kataang

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Was I the asshole for kinda cheating on my partner?

This happened 4 years ago

So I (then 17-18, nbl) was dating this guy B (then 18, m), he was my first actual relationship but, to put it lightly, he wasn't that great. He mocked/disrespected my very real religious beliefs to my face, belittled my taste in music, tried to pressure me into sleeping with him even though I told him at the time that I was ace and sex repulsed, he was sexist and would sometimes put his hand over my mouth when I tried to talk about something that was "for the boys" so to speak, even if I was right there.

I started going to school (we were both homeschooled and met through activities) and at this new school I made some friends who introduced me to D (then 21, m) and as I got dragged into this group, D and I started getting closer; we'd see each other daily while B refused to go out and only ever hung out with me if it was at one of our homes so I'd only see him once every 2 weeks or so. When I turned 18, B took me out in our first actual date in 2 years of being together! He took me to see a movie then the mall. On our way back to the bus I asked him if he thought I looked pretty (I was very insecure at this point bc of all the belittling) and he said that I could "lose a few pounds" (I wore medium clothes) and the ensuing "argument" thing led to him basically telling me he could replace me with a hooker...and I said that I was the best he could ever do since he's quite big himself and never does anything with his life. now at this point he knew I liked D, as I was a very honest person, and he seemed fine with it. What he didn't know was that throughout the months D had been just kinda...being affectionate, nothing outright, just a pat on the shoulder, an arm around my shoulder, etc., and I'd lean into it. There were many times I'd end up just...laying my head on his lap at the Tim Hortons next to school, in my mind all of this was completely innocent, as I was very inexperienced with intimacy outside of the intimacy a girl can have with other girl friends, and my guy friends were all very distant and no-touchy, having someone who made me feel grounded, and safe, while I was experiencing all sorts of new things and learning to unlearn a lot of harmful things I believed, was comforting. But now, looking back, I wonder if what I did qualified as cheating, and it didn't help that EVERYONE at my school shipped D and I and were just waiting to see us get together, I felt rather close to him but it never felt romantic (turned out I'm also aro). I eventually ended things w B and 3 days later started dating D BY ACCIDENT (he cornered me in the cafeteria and forced a confession out of me, then after school we had a conversation at Tim Hortons) and I eventually cut ties w B bc HE LITERALLY JUST STOPPED REACHING OUT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS HIM WHO HAD A CRUSH ON ME I WAS DOING ALL THE WORK OF THE RELATIONSHIP anyway, I'm...still coping w my past at times, but was I the asshole? Should I maybe not have been cuddling this guy for months? Also I didn't realize at the start that he was 3 years older than me, I learned later on that we started having feelings for eachother when I was still a minor.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[juvederm]

raving about trans josh . suck my nuts

i honestly don't see a lot for trans josh in art or writing. and i kinda feel like nobody sees a more feminine look or energy for him which is kind of lame. there's nothing that suggests he wouldn't like feminine things, and maybe it's his brazen dialogue that leads people to believe he's like any other dude who strictly presents masculine. which i mean, yes in the game he's never wearing anything that isn't, much like the rest of the guys.

i bring up femininity and masculinity because of how they are depicted in his concept masks. i have a feeling that people might think i "feminize" josh for no reason but the truth is that i got this idea from his concept mask artwork.

sad girl, sheila. sad girl especially is my favorite. and whatever this could just be me running on high levels of copium, but after already headcanoning josh as trans and then seeing these, i cherished this headcanon even more.

i can honestly see josh as transfem or transmasc, he's trans either way to me. i often think about him hiding his true forms of expression in favor of appealing to others, doing it for your own safety, etc, something i think trans people like myself can relate to.

some masks have themes related to motherhood as well.

and listen. i know sometimes horror plays into the themes of femininity within serial killers in horror media (like some being into crossdressing for example), but like i said. when thinking about josh being TRANS and seeing this, it fuels my belief for it more than ever. especially since it's in a Horror game as well.

like obviously this wasn't intended to be in the game as trans coding, it was inevitable for me personally to not let my favorite character get away with being cisgender LMFAO i had to stomp that out, it's just something i do, i think other trans people in fandom can relate to projecting that onto their faves.

and i know the until dawn fandom is fond of trans chris as it's literally the only trans headcanon i ever see no shade. and i like that one! truthfully, i do. sometimes i'm at odds with the way it's characterized in fics and whatnot, but it's a wholesome and harmless headcanon. i just wish i saw more for trans josh :-(

a lot of this headcanon requires brainstorming i think, you're not gonna use a lot of like. in game proof (besides the concept art) to try and justify it bc you literally don't need to for any lgbt headcanon honestly. esp in a heteronormative game like until dawn. like i know there's no way in Hell that SMG intended for josh to be trans, but it's my favorite headcanon ever and the only headcanon i've ever made a whole TIMELINE for because it speaks to me so much.

i also wanna bring up body horror and transformation. this also has to do with trans hannah. this, iirc, was kind of around back in the days of the fandom, but it's truly one of the best. i don't know if anyone at the time considered it. but i took hannah's transformation (and by proxy, josh's too) as trans coding as well, ofc it wasn't intended that way, i just think it makes things more interesting.

the idea of your body changing and you can't stop it sounds a lot like puberty to me and how it felt when i was going through it. sometimes horror movies even indulge in this idea, leading a lot of people to believe it as a metaphor for growing up trans (i've watched a lot of video essays mentioning this concept) and i wasn't gonna let josh or hannah off that easy. you are both TRANSGENDER.

of course this is all just projecting, but i just want these hcs to get some more love. also feminine josh, come on guys, can you really not see it for him? bc i can. maybe not as something he does Outwardly with confidence, but still, i don't see josh as him being strictly masculine, although i still love that look for him. not saying i don't.

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

+ some more masks. i love the doll related ones because i associate josh and hannah with dolls. like a lot.

#until dawn #josh washington #hannah washington #i honestly see josh in a lot of dark feminine outfits #not even like. over the top feminine but just subtly #i always give him an air of it in my art or writing #because personally as a trans person #i connect a lot to femininity in my own way #it still means a lot to me and isn't something i wanna flush away #bc i think it's beautiful as the same with masculinity #i don't know.... i have a complicated relationship with gender but #i hope this made sense #don't jump me please h my hod #josh #hannah

[vickyvicarious]

"if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable." good for the Bilders!

the polite, casually musing, "did I tell you to go to hell?" is so funny

Bilder hating Dracula on sight <3

ahhh it's good to hear Dracula's voice again. I mean I hate him, but, you know.

"I have made pets of several." Dracula making his little jokes again...

"he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty" hahaha, the delivery of this line was so funny

the Bilders laughing and literally going like "hohohohooo" is so funny. they're just 'gotcha!!!!!!' it's great

they are so playful. good for them

I love the long talk about how this wolf isn't clever or dangerous or anything... ending with "well, and I guess he could eat a baby" haha

Correspondent not liking that door being opened

it IS a shame that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles, I agree. I love how soft his voice gets on "come along, Berserker."

"the only exclusive information" hahaha yes, kudos to you, Correspondent

I like the doorbell noise quite a lot.

And the saw noise!

I never noticed them going round to the back of the house, but um. Probably a good choice before breaking in!

Ooh, the way Jack's voice falters on "but there was no sound... that we could hear"

I LOVE the music as they open the door and see Mrs. Westenra and Lucy

my immediate reaction was DO NOT BRING BRANDY

I do love that Jack tested it to make sure it wasn't poisoned though

"there was a gentleman who had come with a message from Mr. Holmwood." HERE HE ISSSS

god, that van Helsing doesn't have any hope for Lucy to survive this anymore. his only goal is to save her from vampirism

THE TWANG COMING IN WITH QUINCEY AHAHA

also the way Jack says "Quincey Morris" he is in love

oh god Art's voiiiiice

"Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see and hear." oh god

I love Jack's uncertainty upon reading Lucy's memorandum. The vulnerability in his voice as he asks van Helsing what it means, and if Lucy is mad.

Quincey's voice is so soft and sweet when he asks to have a talk with Jack.

Man, Jack really is running around all over the place isn't he.

"I don't want to shove myself in anywhere where I've no right to be;" this is why Quincey has been gone from the book for so long.

the music while Quincey describes the vampire bat

love the "royal lot of [manhood]" line, but also the whole bit before it, with Jack being so soft and full of sympathy for Quincey, more so than himself

"What took it out?" Quincey asking the real questions

Lucy's sobbing aches to listen to

"Some may not think it so sad for us," oof, she sounds kinda bitter. perhaps insinuations have already been made? not necessarily that they killed him but that this is mighty lucky for them isn't it/that they deliberately got close to him when he was dying in order to inherit

"my belief in him helps him to have a belief in himself." YES. YES.

Mina reaching out to Lucy for comfort and support... unaware that Lucy too is plunged into a nightmare

oh she sounds so agonized when she says the letter was unopened. oh ouch.

#dracula daily #re: dracula #thomas bilder #correspondent #jack seward #van helsing #quincey morris #lucy westenra #mina murray

[sarahnotjmaas]

Okay I did it Here are my notes for the tandem read:

Tandem Read

Empire of Storms:

Manon’s crown helmet sounds really cool

These mother fuckers don’t wanna recognize her as queen!?!? She literally can and will protect you from EVERYTHING. I hate men lol

No they cannot kill Asterin. It’s too early in the book I can’t take that

The way she burned that soldier from the inside out with just one little blow of breath was so cool

Omg Manon attacking her grandma!!!

I cannot belief Rowan told Gavriel about Aedion like that!!!! There were much more sensitive ways he coulda said that shit

So Aedion meeting his dad went well😂 “I didn’t expect to say any of that” lol Aedion and Aelin are really the same person huh

Okay Manon and Dorian is way hotter than Aelin and Rowan I don’t even care. Fight me.

Also I feel like if Aedion and Lysandra got more attention they could’ve been *chefs kiss but we get Elide and Lorcan instead. Don’t get me wrong there okay but I think would’ve preferred more focus on Aedion and Lysandra….

Okay I lied about that^

The liken?? Crazy! Aelins power goes stupid hard! I love how SJM describes her power and how she burrows down into it!!

Ansel is back and remind me why we trust her. She’s a known traitor…..

Excuse me??? Dorian or Aelin have to give their life!?!? No. NO!!!! IF SJM KILLS DORIAN!!!!!!!!!

THAT FUCKING BITCH MAEVE!! THEYRE MATES!! I knew it! I didn’t know how but I knew it! This also only gives me more hope for Azriel and Elaine in ACOTAR.

They’re married 😭😭

Tower of Dawn:

So Chaol is acting a little ableist and I low key hopes he learns to be a warrior from a wheelchair. I don’t see that happening but…..

So he’s gonna walk but what are the dynamics here I’m confused

The healer from the womb being found dead in the library is low key scary. I’m glad I didn’t read that at night hahaha

I stand by my statement from the last book that I don’t like Chaol and Nesryn together. They don’t spark anything in me but Nesry and Sartaq, Chaol and Yrene?? Now that intrigues me.

The acolytes gushing over Chaol, CUUUUUTEEE!!!

Him telling Yrene, ‘I didn’t want you to show them’ made me tear up

Ooooooo laying in that bed with her made his toes curl, me too Chaol

Damn Nesryns note was kinda cold. Her and Sartaq are kinda cute though. And like it do be an adventure lol

Chaol and Yrene one a date 🥹🫠

I don’t care about Nesryn lol. Hope she gets the bird people to fight in the war but 🥱

CHAOL IS WALKING my heart is soaring!! I loved everything about that. Yrene tugging him into a corner to make out! Yes!!!! She better get some dick on her birthday! That better be Chaols gift

Okay so the locket was precious but the birthday sex was better hahaha

When is Yrene gone meet Aelin!?!?

Omg SARTAQ!!! I fucking hate spiders wtf

MAEVE IS QUEEN OF THE VALG!?!? WHATTTTT???

Does Rowan know?? How could he not?

Yrene said “I thought the sex was good before but now that he’s fully healed !!!!” Good for you sis

It’s wife right. Her place is his wife. I stg

So while all his friends are facing war and death, Chaols falling in love and getting sloppy toppy lol good for him

Duva is the valg??? Didn’t see that coming

NOOOO CHAOLS BACK! My man got to walk fully healed for like a day! He only ran once

Aww him and Yrene are bonded like Rhys and Feyre!

Sartaq!!!! Omg Nesryn and Sartaq! That was so hot “never from you” 🫠

Chaol and Yrene are married 😭LADY WESTFALL 10/10

Unpopular opinion: tower of Dawn might be my favorite book in the series lol

#sarah j maas #celaena sardothien #throne of glass #sjm #heir of fire #aelin galythinius #chaol westfall #dorian havilliard #rowan whitethorn #sjm books #acotar #yrene westfall #yrene towers #nesryn x sartaq #Lysandra x Aedion #elide x lorcan #manon blackbeak #manorian #empire of storms #tower of dawn #throne of glass tandem read #tandem read

[redditreceipts]

i hope that whatever you write on here makes your life easier in some way. i don't know how, i just hope it does some good to someone somewhere. a lot of people are struggling right now, a lot of people are angry, and i know you're trying your best to make the world a better, safer place

it's strange how much kinship i feel with GCs on here. you're all screaming for safety, support for the next generation, an end to the oppression, an end to the patriarchy

we might be fighting on opposite sides- we've probably both seen some very different, very hard things. we've both a lot to the ways we have to live. i wish we could get along. i wish it didn't have to be this way

i won't argue that i'm a man despite my biology- not here anyway, there's no point, it won't achieve anything- but i hope you can find more friends like me and understand us better. we're not liars. we don't want to cause danger. i would beg you to listen to us but i understand that you can't.

i understand that you only hate trans women because a lot of men are total pieces of shit and don't care about anyone else. there's no point telling you that most trans women aren't bad. they're not good either. people just do what they do, both good and bad. nobody's perfect, and there are bad people in every area of society. Not all women are good. Goodness and womanhood are two different things.

i hope that your life gets better, and that your world gets bigger, and friendlier, and easier to be in.

-a trans brother

Hey :) thanks for the kind words, but don't you see how you sound kinda like one of these performatively compassionate preachers talking to atheists? something like "hey. I know that you've had it hard. Now it's difficult for you to let Jesus into your heart. You've turned your back to God because people have hurt you. I understand that. But some day, I hope, you will return to Him, because He has nothing but love for you."

And I also don't know where you get the notion that I don't have any trans friends or that I don't know trans people. I interact with trans people about four times a week. Half of the women I've dated have identified as something other than women. I also use preferred pronouns, as long as the person in question is not a total piece of shit.

It would actually kinda funny if we knew each other in real life, and you think that I'm some kind of super progressive person lmao.

And also, why do you think that saying that manhood or womanhood isn't determined by some nebulous non-falsifiable spiritual bullshit means that I hate trans women? Or that I think that all trans women are bad? Or that all biological females are good? I've literally never said that I think that all trans women are bad people. I just say that they are not women.

I also don't know where you get the notion that I think that trans people are lying. I actually think that the majority of trans-identified people actually believe that they are literally the opposite sex, just as the majority of catholics believe that they are literally recieving the body and the blood of Christ in their sermons. The only problem arises when people start to push their beliefs onto others. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, but nobody is entitled to affirmation from the world around them.

#radical feminism #radblr #radical feminists please touch #radical feminists do interact #gender critical #feminism #terfblr #transbian #gender critical feminism #gender critical feminist #gc feminism #gc feminist #material reality #trans gender #trans man #transmasc #terfs please touch #terfs please interact

[shelbgrey]

Hi! Do you write for the squinterns from bones if yes could you write one for any of them where y/n is hodgins' daughter/sister and is goth and into conspiracies if you don't feel comfortable or just don't want to feel free to ignore this

Being Hodgins' sister and being a goth Squintern

Paring: Goth!Reader x Squinterns

Summary: headcanons about two Squinterns being in love and one loves conspiracies.

A/n: sorry that it's short or I got a few things wrong.

MasterList

So, the Squinterns are like one big disfunctional family that can't live without each other.

It's established from the start your goth, but I think that your personality would conderdict that. Meaning your very bubbly and and smiley.

Everyone is always fascinated by your look, your fishnets, leather, dark makeup, and many piercings always draw people towrds you rather you want it or not.

“did it hurt?” Vincent asked, referring to your nose piercing. “only for a sec, what you talking about getting one?”

Your looks might also have outsiders questioning or logic or capabilities. If someone talks down towrds you the Squinterns and your brother will always have your back.

Even Dr. Brennan has told off a few people.

Your bright and loving personality would confuse Colin Fisher for a moment and he'd ask a bunch of questions beacuse on the outside you look like someone he'd hang out with, but once he got to know you, you guys became quite close.

“what kinda Goths have you hung around? All the ones I've met are literally the best people ever” you respond to his confusion.

Fisher appreciated that you saw him more than just a weird and gloomy guy, you would talk about movies and make him laugh with your harmless conspiracy theories.

You guys soon became best friends through mutual interests and understanding of each others worth and true colors.

Which leads him into falling for you, he doesn't know how to handle theses feeling nor dose he want to destroy the most important relationship he has.

Your Favorite person to work with his Wendell, nothing like a good ol golden retriever and black cat relationship. Your not really a 'black cat', but people might give you that label when they see your outsides.

Wendell loves you, in a brotherly way of course. You, him, and your brother Jack become this amazing trio. If Wendell isn't with Jack he's with you.

There has been many times Wendell has helped pick out hair Dye and other ecesories with you.

“was thinking black and blue for my hair, what do you think?”

“like a dip and faid thing or whole head?” he asked.

You were there to comfort and support him throughout the time he was fight cancer. “I'll shave my head with you”

“no, you love your hair” he quickly said. “okay... I'll just die it the cancer awareness colors and shave just the side” you smile.

You would grow a small crush on Arastoo Vaziri, but with his belief system you were scared to tell him how you feel.

He of course didn't care, he fell in love with your compassion and personality. The way you looked didn't bother him, he thought you were beautiful and he didn't care what his family thought either.

You guys would date for a little while to the dismay of Fisher. He would put his feelings aside though, and continued to be your best friend no matter how much it hurt.

You would think Finn Abernathy is literally the cutest person alive, you love hearing his southern drawl and his little sayings.

He thinks your dark and mysterious at first, but when you heard you and Wendell having a debate on which Disney princess was the best he knew there was more too you.

Which made him want to talk to you more and get to know you.

He loves hearing your conspiracy theories no matter how much some of them might freak him out.

You and Daisy don't get along, plane and simple. Your a sweet person, but her hyper and 'look at me' attitude rubed you the wrong way.

You also didn't like how she would stare at you like you were from another planet. “take a picture, it'll last longer”

The other jeffersonian residents have never really heard you talk like at. They didn't like the way daisy treated you and jack had a proud big brother moment.

She also didn't like how close you and Lance got. “hey Sweetheart” you would say to him, the nickname was in a Platonic way and you used that because of his last name.

Daisy didn't get that. “don't call him that”

“it's better than Lancealot, and last time I checked he's not your boyfriend anymore”

You and Clark Edison don't talk much, you find each other weird but you have high respect for each other.

You read his book and didn't really like how he worded things, it was obvious he was a new writer. He suprisenly thought of you as a friend so you never told him the full truth about the book.

You love hearing Vincent Nigel-Murray's facts and most of the time you have a conspiracy theory to bounce off of it, there has been many time you both had a playful back a forth that intertaned the whole lab.

When he died it crushed you, he was a true friend and a total sweetheart in your eyes. You can't listen to the song 'lime in the coconut' without crying now.

Losing him made you relize how precious a life is, you'd think your line of work would do that, but no. After Vincent died you made sure to always check up on Fisher and ask how his mental health was, or you'll make a joke to make Finn laugh. You'd make sure to give Wendell a hug everyday and make sure to tell Arastoo you love him everyday.

You just want the Squinterns to know how much they mean to you.

Wendell said your the heart and soul of the group of squints, you keep everyone together. It'll warm your hear when he said that, but then you'd bring up a stimulation conspiracy theory. Wendell would just laugh while Finn would back up his statement.

They love every part of you.

#Squinterns #Squinterns x reader #Goth!reader #Bones #Jack Hodgins x sister!reader #Jeffersonian #Temperance Brennan #Jack Hodgins imagines #Arastoo Vaziri #Colins fisher #Wendell Bray #Vincent Nigel-Murray #Finn Abernathy

[remcycl333]

What does Kim Velez say about inner conversations in the video? What made it easy for you to manifest in this video? My English is so bad that I want to watch the video but I don't understand anything. Could you briefly summarize what Kim Velez said? If you don't mind, could you summarize the Dylan James video please?

grateful for everything💘

hi! i'd be happy to do that for you :)

disclaimer: it's been a while since i've watched these videos so this is just a summary of the things that i took from them and got results from and use to this day!

this is the Kim Velez video that really helped me for anyone who wants to watch it (it starts at 3:20 lol). it helped me specifically with manifesting a specific person, but you can apply this to any of your desires. at the time i was watching Sammy Ingram and had the belief that i had to repeat the same exact affirmation over and over again every second of the day (example: my SP is constantly texting me). i would monotonously repeat the same affirmation all day long and had the limiting belief that you could only manifest if you use the same exact wording every time. this is NOT TRUE! but Sammy had instilled this limiting belief in my mind at the time. in this video by Kim, she talks about how saying affirmations all day long with the intent to create something and bring it into your 3D is not sustainable. part of the reason is because you're not fully living in the end. you're saying affirmations obsessively in order to get something instead of accepting the fact that it's already yours and creation is already finished.

[disclaimer: if repeating the same exact affirmations all day long works for you, continue doing this. but if you feel like this isn't working for you because you feel like you're obsessively saying affirmations in order to get something and you would like to change that, maybe this will help you. in the video, Kim points out that those types of affirmations work and will still get you what you want, but she suggests that you test out inner conversations and choose for yourself which feels better]

this is where the inner conversations come in. inner conversations are how you are talking to yourself in your mind throughout the day. it's your inner monologue. you want to manufacture inner conversations that you would naturally have if you already had your desire.

for instance, whenever i was manifesting my SP, this is an example of one of the conversations i would create in my mind:

"i love my SP so much, he is the best boyfriend i could ever have asked for. he is just so loving and attentive and perfect. i seriously can't wait to see him tomorrow. we're gonna have so much fun! we're gonna go on a cute little date and have a picnic! omg, i wonder what i should wear? maybe i'll wear my pink skirt..." and then i'd go on to plan my outfit and think about things that would happen on the date.

this literally helped me so much. i know it sounds kinda silly to plan an outfit in your head lol, but i remembered the inner conversations i would have when i was dating someone in the past and tried to recreate those. you don't have to plan an outfit or date if that doesn’t feel natural to you. that’s just what i did.

here is a transcript of what Kim Velez’s example of an inner conversation is in her video:

 “oh my god I’m in the best relationship of my life. I am so fucking amazing, I love the way this person loves me. I feel so loved and supported and valued and I am the fucking best. man it feels so good, no one can compare to me. I am such an amazing partner, my person appreciates me so fucking much. it is just so magnificent waking up to this person every day. i literally have the life that i fucking dreamed of.”

obviously Kim’s version is a lot more mature sounding than mine lol cuz i have the inner monologue of a young Gen Z girl. but that’s what i mean! don’t just repeat mine or Kim’s inner conversations in your mind, craft them to sound like thoughts/conversations you would naturally have! if you want you can write down a little script in your notes app or in a journal to give you an idea of what to say. but don’t repeat it monotonously every time, you can add random details every time.

obviously this takes a little more focus than just repeating the same exact affirmations over and over again, so i would do this while doing mindless activities such as dishes, cleaning, laundry, working out, showering, etc.

💛⭐️🌼🐝🍌🌙🍋🌟🌻

now for the summary of the Dylan James videos. I won’t link a specific one because this is what I learned from watching multiple videos of his. but Dylan really emphasizes the idea of it is done. what he recommends is when your desire pops into your mind to simply say “it is done” and force yourself to think about something else. this idea was kinda shocking to me at first because--like i said before--i had the limiting belief of having to repeat affirmations all day long. but i tried it out and it got me results SO. FAST.

basically the idea behind this is that you’re subconscious mind already knows what you want. you don’t have to keep telling it, it knows. declaring that you have something once is enough for it to manifest.

this is an analogy that has been used so many times but i love it so much. think of your affirmations as a seed. you declare “i have my desire.” that is you planting the seed. you have to trust that the seed will grow into a flower. in real life, if you plant a seed, it will not grow if you keep digging it up and making sure that it’s there and that the stuff you are doing to help it grow is working. manifesting is the same. if you keep thinking “it is working? is it coming soon? is it here yet?” you will be putting focus on the fact that it’s not here yet, instead of the fact that it is done and finished.

another thing Dylan emphasizes in his video is Trust. you have to trust that your manifestation is coming. you have to trust your subconscious mind, trust the process. you can’t keep obsessively worrying about it and whether or not it will happen/manifest. you have to trust that it’s done.

in his videos, Dylan encourages people to distract themselves throughout the day and to not think about your desire. like i said earlier, if you find yourself thinking about your desire, stop yourself and say “it’s done. it is so done I don’t even have to think about it” and force yourself to think about something else.

what i think is really helpful about this technique is that if you don’t think about your desire at all, then you don’t think negative thoughts about it. also by trusting the law and yourself so much that you can’t even be bothered to think about it is like a serious confidence and self-concept boost i swear. this is how i manifest most things because it literally works so fast for me. like within a day.

These two different “techniques” (for the lack of a better word), inner conversations and distracting yourself, can either be used together or separately. if you just want to do inner conversations, you can. if you want to do inner conversations during mindless activities and distract yourself and say “it is done” for the rest of the day, you can. or if you just want to throw yourself completely into never thinking about your desire anymore like Dylan James suggests you can do that.

or you can do none of these things! these are just the things that finally helped me to start manifesting consistently and gave me a huge breakthrough last year. if they resonate with you, great! if they don’t, you don’t have to do them. whatever feels natural and right to you :)

i’m sorry for the super long response LOL i didn’t expect to write this much. but i really hope this helps and makes sense! feel free to ask any further questions you may have :) !

#asks #law of assumption #manifesting #manifestation