#my one track mind... to be fair that could be fucking fun to do

[bigification]

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Friday,

I feel strong, but these protein shakes haven't been helping my bulk as much as I want. I'm still too skinny. Maybe I should give them more time though, I've only been taking them for a couple weeks after all. I'll try bumping it up to two a day, and I'll eat more, that should help.

I pick up my phone as I leave the gym and stare at the Grindr app. Should I? Is it fair to Dean that I keep bringing back guys to our place. This would be the fourth time this week, I think I can hold off for his sake. Anyway, I put away my phone and head back to my apartment.

"How was the workout?" Dean asked when I got home. I'm shocked, he's never really been interested in my workouts before. We used to go together before we were roommates but now that we live together, the gym is a rare activity we do apart. Besides, he hasn't really been going that much recently.

"Oh, it was good... I'm just not bulking as much as I want to." I reply.

"That must be why you got those protein shakes, huh?"

Why is he taking so much notice of this stuff now? We can share the shakes if he really wants to, he might just be trying to motivate himself to get back in the gym. But he could just ask if that's what he wants. "Ya, I'm gonna try to drink more, maybe that'll help." I say as I go to the fridge and grab one.

"That's good." Dean says in a flat tone, he usually does this when he's lost interest in a conversation.

I get distracted from the conversation anyway as I drink the shake. Something seems different about it, it's got a bit of a bitter aftertaste now. I figure it's probably just me getting tired of the taste and shrug it off.

Saturday,

I wake up in a cold sweat. This was unusual given that I get up every day at this time to go to the gym. I look to the clock and it's... 10 o'clock. Holy shit, I slept in. I'm usually at the gym by 8. I calm down a bit when I remember it's Saturday, so I have nothing to do anyway.

I roll out of bed and hobble my way to the bathroom. My head is spinning and my stomach is growling, I felt hungover. I didn't drink last night did I? I don't really remember. However, all of that leaves my mind in an instant when I look in the mirror. I rub my eyes and look again. Where do I even begin. An itchy beard now covers my face, despite the fact that I shaved yesterday morning. My sweat glistened on my distended stomach, my six pack buried under a soft bloat. My pecs are swollen and slightly rounded.

What the fuck. My mind is trying to process what's happening, but it can't. I turn to the side and see the subtle S shape in my stomach and my ass. Was it the shake? It couldn't have been, it hasn't done shit for me in weeks and now it does this! You know what, this is fine. I pinch my stomach. It's mostly bloated, just a small layer of fat, nothing I can't work off in a couple weeks. If anything this will give me a head start on my bulk.

I throw on some of my loose gym clothes that do a decent job at hiding my physique, but I still look different. I grab my gym back and try to sneak out, I don't want Dean seeing me like this. I quickly try to rush out the door, but I stop dead in my tracks when I hear Dean.

"I didn't know you were still home, you usually leave before I get up." He says nonchalantly.

"Oh ya... I just decided to sleep in today." I pull my bag to cover my stomach.

"Okay, have fun at the gym. Nice beard by the way, when did you decide to grow it out."

"I've just been a bit lazy with shaving it, that's all." I'm sweating buckets.

"Well it looks good, you should keep it." He smiles at me.

I can feel myself blush, so I smile and get out as quickly as possible. I chug a protein shake on the way to the gym, noting that bitter aftertaste again. It's probably nothing, I have bigger issues to deal with.

Once I start my workout, I feel pretty self conscious about my body. I know no one else could know that something is off, but I still feel off. But as the workout goes on, I start feeling more and more comfortable. I start hitting more reps than I ever have before, though cardio is a bit of a slog. It doesn't matter, I feel surprisingly great. I finish off the workout great, and flex in the mirror for a bit of a confidence boost.

I drink another shake on the way home. As I get home, Dean seems to be waiting for me. He asks how my workout was again. He's acting so weird again. I decide to spend the rest of the day out, drinking the night away. I am bulking after all.

Sunday,

I wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck, with no memory of how much I drank last night. I've never felt like this after a night out though. The more I think about it, the more my mind points me to the shakes. They have to have something to do with this. I don't have time for this right now though, I have to get to the gym.

I brush my teeth and shave, I'm shocked at the beard I grew in just two days. I try throwing on some clothes, but I feel some resistance. My largest gym shirt no longer fits, there's always a sliver of skin showing and it goes past my belly button when I reach up. My shorts fit a bit better, but they hug my ass very tight. I think I'll have to buy some new clothes on the way home.

The workout goes similarly to yesterday. I start self conscious of the fact that my belly is showing and my shorts look like they're about to rip. But the worry escapes my mind when I destroy my routine. I feel so strong.

I feel great by the time my workout ends. I head to the locker room and take off my shirt. Yeesh, I have a full on beer belly now. This is no longer just a bloat, my stomach is covered in a thick layer of fat. I didn't even know you could gain this much fat in only a couple of days, and I'm not even eating that much. And what's with the beard, I shaved this morning and it's already coming back in. Although my arms are looking massive, I could even feel my sleeves stretch from my biceps when I was working out. I stare at my belly a bit as I think about what to do.

I throw on my shirt again and head out. I pull up to a clothing store and pick out a few loose gym clothes that should fit me if I bulk even more.

"Hi, where are the change rooms." I ask an employee.

"Oh.." he pauses for a moment, looking at my belly. I notice that my shirt is riding up more than it was this morning. I instinctively cover my exposed belly with my arms and shrivel up in embarrassment.

"Just over there sir." He awkwardly points to the back of the store.

I grab a few larger clothes on the way out and leave the store as fast as humanly possible. I instinctively down another shake on the way home. Dean didn't say anything to me when I got home, but he glanced at me and then looked away. He is acting so strange.

I woke up in the middle of the night, there was a rattling coming from the kitchen. I walk out to investigate and see Dean doing something with the protein shakes. Is he secretly drinking them at night? He could just ask and I would give some to him. But I see him pour something into the shake and then close it back up again before putting them back in the fridge. What the hell? I try to think of what he could be doing. He stashes something away in the bottom of the cupboard and starts walking back to his bedroom. I quickly hide in my room until I hear his door close, and then I go back to the kitchen to investigate. I look at the protein shakes in the fridge and notice their seals have been broken, I can't believe I never noticed that. I move over to the cupboard and find a small bag with white powder in it. It looks like coke, but why the fuck would Dean put coke in my shakes. And besides, I don't think fat, muscle, and hair growth are symptoms of coke. Maybe I'll give him a taste of his own medicine. I go back to the fridge and pull out the jug of orange juice that Dean drinks every morning. I have no idea how much he put in my shakes, so I just pour a bunch in. I kind of feel like a secret agent, sneaking in a mysterious powder into his drink. I would feel worse, but he already did this to me so I'm fine ignoring my morals this time.

I head to bed, lying awake in my bed for a while. Thinking about what I just did, thinking about the results. It's making it hard to fall asleep, but I eventually do.

Monday,

I wake up feeling better than I had the past few days. I go through my normal routine, throw on my gym clothes, and grab a bite to eat. When I open the fridge, i see the orange juice and protein shakes and I'm reminded of my situation. Every morning I get a few moments of blissful ignorance before it's ripped away. I think for a bit, then grab a couple shakes and put in my bag. I'm kinda liking this new me, the strong me, and the belly is definitely growing on me. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I head out, I'm really committing to this aren't I? I ask myself as I look at the bushy beard that has engulfed my face and the belly and moobs that are unmistakable under my shirt. I smile and then head to the gym.

Every day that I spend at the gym, I get less self conscious. I almost forget about the fact that my hairy gut I exposed to the world whenever I reach up. I only care about the fact that I have been increasing the weight on my workouts every day and it feels amazing.

I take a shower and get dressed for work... Oh shit. I never bought work clothes that fit me, I'm reminded when I try in vain to button up my dress shirt. I stop by the store again and grab a couple shirts and pairs of pants. The thought of the protein shake in my car makes me think of the future, so I buy a few clothes in larger sizes too.

I barely make it to work on time. The day went by fast, but all I could remember were the stares and the comments from coworkers. "You forget to shave this morning Santa?" "Might want to lay off the doughnuts in the break room buddy." "We're concerned about your health." "Did you forget to stop bulking?" That was all I heard today. It was embarrassing at first, but it soon turned to encouraging. Each sly comment just makes me want to grow more. It honestly makes me realize how much I'm enjoying growing, and makes me even more excited to see what happens to Dean. It was hard to keep my dick in my pants today, I think the only reason no one noticed was because they were too busy staring at my gut.

I make it back home after work and dress down to my underwear first thing. Damn I am getting hairy, I run my hands through the forest of hair that has grown all over my body. As I'm doing so, an amazing idea runs through my mind. I'm gonna surprise Dean. There's no way I can hide the changes in my body regardless of how baggy my clothes are, so I'm just gonna show it off. I lay down on the couch by the front door, still only in my underwear, and I wait for him to show up.

"I'm hom- Oh hey..." Dean stutters as he sees me.

"Hey bud, what's up." I say nonchalantly.

"Just tired from work, where are your clothes?"

"I had a crazy workout today, just figured I'd air out a bit. Ever since I started this bulk, things have really taken off for me at the gym." I say while I rub my gut. In trying my best to make him uncomfortable and it seems to be working.

"Okay, well if you need me I'll be in my room." He quickly scurries into his room.

I just chuckle to myself and continue rubbing my belly. I wonder if there's any leftovers in the fridge?

Tuesday,

Same old same old. Get out of bed, get dressed, shave, grab a shake and head to the gym.

I feel so imposing at the gym now. I think I've gotten taller, because I look down on almost every now. I have a beard and a deeper voice than I used to, and not to mention the big gut and strong biceps. I'm like the biggest guy here, and people treat me like it. Women and men stare, and people tend to let me use the machines I want. I also notice myself grunting when I work out, I wonder if the entire gym can hear it. Anyway, the point is I feel amazing. This is the first day I dropped cardio because who fucking needs it, I sure don't. Now I focus purely on mass gain. I'm tired of holding back and I don't care what other people think, I want more.

I arrived at work, rocking far more confidence than I did yesterday, and people noticed. I don't care if they stare or comment, and I don't care that my dress shirt is already too small for me. People even asked me how I gained as much muscle as it did that fast. I just tell them to eat a shit ton and drink protein shakes, but maybe once the jig is up with Dean I'll ask him how to get the powder. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing some of the men at work blow up like I did. This is not the time to think about it though, it's getting hard to hide my boner at work. The only thing hiding it when I sit down is my gut.

I get home and notice Dean is home too. He must have stayed home, I wonder if it's because of the powder. He won't seem to leave his room though, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to see the results.

I just decide to change into some comfortable clothes and eat my heart out. Though I'm shocked at how small my once 'baggy' clothes are. They barely fit past my stomach, and they ride up past my belly button when I lift my arms.

Fuck I'm getting fat. There is nothing hotter to me right now than the thought of my body growing. I make my way to the kitchen and grab a few more shakes and start chugging, feeling my dick harden with each gulp. I feel like a fucking pig, what has come over me. The shake is dribbling down my beard and onto my shirt, but I can't stop. Once I've had enough protein shakes for a lifetime, I stumble to my room and promptly fall asleep.

Wednesday,

I wake up in a pool of sweat, similar to a couple days ago. My mouth tastes awful and my body feels heavy. I question what happened last night as I roll myself out of bed. I drag myself to the bathroom and freeze in shock at my image in the mirror. Holy shit. I pull up my shirt to see a massive ball belly, covered in a thick layer of hair. I pull my shirt up further and see a pair of soft man tits that now lay on my gut. Every part of my body looks swollen, my arms, my hands, even my face looks puffy.

I let out a loud burp that reeks of protein shake, and suddenly I remember last. I walk to the kitchen and see six empty protein shakes on the table. I chuckle in a surprisingly deep voice before opening the fridge and grabbing a shake. I down it before getting ready to head to the gym. I put on my largest gym shirt and it only reaches halfway around my gut, I try to put on my shorts but I can't get them to cover the top of my ass crack. That's alright, I don't particularly care if anyone sees, it's their fault for looking.

I spend the day at the gym enjoying all the attention from shocked gym goers. They watch in amazement or contempt as this fatass walks around like he owns the gym.

I go to work with a similar energy, though I do have a dress shirt that still barely fits me so at least I'm not half naked going to work. My clothes still leave little to my coworkers imaginations, as I confidently strut my fatass around the office.

I get home and stand in shock as I walk through the door. Is that Dean!? Across the living room stands a morbidly obese man wearing nothing but boots, a baseball cap, and a ripped towel around his waist.

"You did this to me!" The man yells in a gruff southern accent.

"Dean, is that you?" I respond.

"Yea, you dumbass! You gave me some of that powder didn't ya." He turns to face me and reveals the damage the powder did to his body.

"Hey you did it to me first! I was only returning the favour."

"I only put I bit into your shakes, how much did'ya give me!? Look what it's done to me!" He grabs a handful of the fat on his belly, and it jiggles like jello.

"Well I didn't know how much to give you."

"And you're only s'posed to take it when you're workin out, otherwise it only grows fat and not muscle. Beside, why d'ya keep drinking it after you knew?" He asks

"Because I like me this way, it just felt good to get revenge. Why did you even do it in the first place?" I ask in return.

"Because I thought if you got fat you'd stop hooking up with so many guys, and you'd notice me. It was only s'posed to be a bit, but then you started drinkin the shakes like crazy and now look at ya." He responds in a genuine voice. I don't know what to say, so I stand silent. He grabs his phone and approaches me. "This is what I looked like 2 days ago!" He shows me a picture of himself. "I was so happy that I could finally grow a beard. Little did I know why."

"This is what I looked like yesterday." He shows me another photo. "My hair was falling out and my hairline was receding. I woke up looking like I was pregnant, and my pants couldn't fit anymore."

"I was so scared that I ate some of that powder, but I didn't know what to do, so I stayed in my room all day and drank nothing but orange juice. Then I woke up this morning as a bald 350 pound man. That's when I knew you put that powder in my orange juice." He seems frantic.

I didn't know what to do, so I grabbed him and kissed him. "I never realized how hot your accent is until now." I say as I pull away from the kiss, he smiles in return. In the moment, another terribly amazing idea comes to my head. I grab the bag of powder he had left on the table and pour some of the powder into his mouth before snorting some myself. He looks at me in shock for a moment before swallowing it. I smile before dragging his fatass to my tiny king sized bed.

Then next Monday,

I just hit 300 today. I still go to the gym everyday, so that keeps my gut from growing out of control. Though I have had some interesting conversations with my family since. But the shocked faces of my family when they see me and their concerned comments if my weight gain only fuels the fire. Though my dad seems to be the only one who says he likes the new me, says I look manlier. It's funny coming from the next fattest man in the family, only behind me of course.

The scale stopped working on Dean after last Thursday, but he has to be pushing 500. I really gave him an insane dose of that powder, and the more fat he got the less capable he was to workout and thus reduce the fat gained. He just sits around and pigs out all day now, and I wouldn't want him any other way. I usually bring home a few meals from a couple fast food restaurants for his first dinner, and when I feel up to it, I'll add a little bit of powder to his meal.

I'm also enjoying work far more. I told all the men at my work about the powder, and within a few days I was seeing results. Some became as fat as Dean by the end of the week, clearly they neglected the part where it said to workout while consuming the powder. Some look like me, with big arms and an even bigger belly. And some have just become muscle beasts, almost like they spent hours a day at the gym. I also feel more imposing at work, people respect me more, even if half of them are bigger than me now. It even helped me get a raise, which funds all of the fast food trips for Dean and I. One day I hope to be the big boss with a silver bushy beard and hulking gut that spills out of my suit.

#male tf #fat tf #fat belly #bhm weight gain #masculine #male wg #muscle tf #ex jock #dad bod #hairy

[roanniom]

I adored smartest! Scratched an itch I didn’t know I had for Steve. Can’t stop thinking of him seeing someone trying to flirt with his tutor and getting possessive and dragging her down the nearest dark alley to prove no one could make her dumb like he can.

Smartest - Part 2

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 1

Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, mutual masturbation, semi public sex / PIV sex / unprotected sex, teasing, power dynamics, King!Steve is a dick and is his own warning (but goes through angst here???)

Steve isn’t really sure what he assumed would happen after he’d been hooking up with his tutor for a while. There had been absolutely no forethought to the initial act, and the fact that you had been into him enough to let him keep fucking you during each session - well Steve Harrington isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course.

But he certainly hadn’t anticipated how the attention would affect how you carry yourself. In the halls. In class. In the stands during pep rallies. Walking through the diner or at the movies. Whenever Steve sees you out and about in Hawkins now, he can’t help but blink and do a double take.

You stand up straighter. You smile brighter. You make eye contact with the people around you. Your clothes are a little more relaxed, opting for flouncier skirts and fun tops rather than cardigans and your usual buttoned up, structured dresses.

To Steve, of course, the change seems motivated by him. And, to be fair, he was sort of the catalyst. He couldn’t possibly know that really you’ve started to come into your own, not because of Steve’s attention itself, but because of the way it allowed you to dismiss the fears you’d had of your own undesirability. The King of Hawkins High wanted you. You’re pretty sure it’s just as a steady fuck buddy, but still. You’d gone from scared to look boys in the eye to being very aware of the fact that you walking through the Harrington’s front door with your books and notes had a pretty much Pavlovian effect of Steve’s cock. He was basically hard fifteen minutes into any tutoring session these days.

It’s not that Steve’s attention has validated you, per se. It’s more that it has made you realize how silly men are. How easy and one track minded they can be. Its almost silly to think how starved you had been for approval and how sure you’d been that your status as an A+ goody goody made you untouchable. That was clearly, judging by the bruises Steve left on your thighs each week, not the case. The whole thing has made you ten times less nervous in his presence. And if you don’t have to be nervous around the King, it essentially means that you’re more at ease everywhere.

At first this change in you intrigues Steve. He truly had never really given you much thought prior to the start of your dalliance. Sure you were pretty…in a stuffy, academic, good girl type of way. But he was always a bird of prey, looking for shiny, garish, colorful and shapely things to catch his eye.

So the day you show up to his place in a tight skirt and a fashionable off the shoulder blouse that bares your collar bones and exposes cleavage, Steve’s eyes practically pop out of his head.

“Well hello,” he says directly to your tits. You roll your eyes and step around him into the house.

“Hi, Steve,” you reply, walking towards the dining room where you usually have your sessions. Steve jogs up behind you and grabs you at the waist, turning you back to him.

“Not in there. Let’s study in my room.”

“Why?” you ask, confused by the sudden change.

“Well, my parents are home,” Steve elaborates. Heat fills you as you realize what he means, but you cock your head to the side, waiting for him to say it. Steve rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “So we can’t…have fun in the dining room.”

“I’m here to tutor you, Steve. So I guess it’s okay if we can’t have fun,” you say with a shrug. You can’t suppress your smile though and Steve’s smile widens. A few weeks ago you would have stuttered and gone shy but immediately compliant, hoping to please him. This was new.

“Yeah but what about when I get an answer right?” Steve asks, stepping forward and lifting his hand so he can play with the hem of your shirt. “You know I need positive reinforcement.”

You do your best to hide your swallow at the memory of how you had sucked his cock after you’d cajoled him into memorizing his flash cards. Even more heat courses through your body but you look up at him defiantly.

“I brought a packet of gold stars. You like stickers, Steve?”

Your answer catches him off guard and he lets out a bark of a laugh. There’s a triumphant fanfare ringing in your ears at the fact that you are able to make Steve laugh like that. Organically and not part of any of kind of show or flirtation or charm offensive.

“I do like stickers…” he says, his hand dipping under the hem of your top and splaying out over the bare skin of your waist. “But I think this body might motivate me better.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that. His heavy eye contact leaves you nowhere to run. Not that you’d ever run from Steve. He’s a magnet pulling you in regardless of distance or context.

But he’s also made the vital mistake of showing his hand. He wants something from you, too. This isn’t a one way serving pity situation. You might be dumb with his cock in you, but before it gets to that point you’re still the smartest girl in Hawkins. So you use this information to your advantage.

You take his hand and walk him up the stairs (a bold move that he didn’t see coming and which makes him immediately rock hard as he watches your ass away ahead of him up the steps).

You’re the one who closes the door. He locks it.

You end up getting Steve to complete all of his homework…by himself. With motivation in the form of a game where you give him a sticker after he completes each assignment and he gets to decide which body part of yours it goes on. By the end of the afternoon you’re naked on his bed, a sticker on each of your tits, each of your ass cheeks, your bellybutton, and your lower abdomen. By the end of the session his head is squeezed between your thighs, his hands roaming and roving to squeeze each soft piece of flesh he’d bedazzled with his gold stars of favor.

So yeah. At first your increased confidence was something Steve found pretty fucking hot.

But as time went on, he began to realize that your confidence didn’t begin and end with him. He started seeing you around in school more. It’s not that you had somehow increased the amount of times you cross his path in a day, exactly. More that you used to melt into the background a bit more. He’d notice you only if you were right in front of him shyly waving. He’d wave back dutifully at his tutor, sometimes throwing you a bone in the form of a wink, lazily enjoying the way it would so obviously throw you into a tailspin with virtually no effort on his part.

Now you’re somehow everywhere all at once. And not only are you noticeable in the crowd - you stand out from it. Your hair is more stylish, your clothes are unapologetically patterned and colored and fit you in ways his hands envy. Your smile is brighter than the god damn fluorescents above. And now Steve is the one who has to maneuver to catch your eye. Because you’re always talking to people these days, it seems. And a lot of those people are guys, Steve notices begrudgingly.

You stand with your back against a locker, your books pulled to your chest as your arms wrap around them, a smile on your face that is definitely not worth the lame ass comment said by the dumb jock standing before you. Steve pauses at the water fountain where he’d been bending when he’d turned his head and saw you. So clearly the recipient of some football player’s attention.

And boy do you glow under attention.

That week when you arrive at his house to tutor him, Steve tries to charm you again into simply fucking outright. Again, you coyly dance around it, making him work for it. He ends up losing his patience and crowding you in the kitchen when you get up for a snack.

“Steve! I’m trying to—!” You’re squealing but he swallows it up as he takes the coke can out of your hand and blindly moves it away from you, his mouth already hot on yours.

Before you can register what’s happening, Steve’s hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter and pushed his way between your spread legs.

“What?” Steve asks, pulling away and feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t just manhandled you and mauled you with his lips. “You said we could have a snack break.” He slides a hand down to cup your pussy through your skirt. He pets at the place over your clit. “This is my snack.”

What would have once rendered you speechless makes you roll your eyes.

“I’m actually hungry, Steve.”

Steve gives you a lopsided grin and drops his hand on his hard on, evident and swell in the confines of his jeans.

“Got a snack for you right here.”

You laugh at that and Steve feels something akin to pride zing through him. But it’s not exactly like pride, an emotion he knows well. No, it’s something different. Warmer.

“As much as I do enjoy that particular snack, Harrington, I don’t think your cum will satiate me.”

“Fuck. Dirty talk and big words like ‘satiate’.” Steve pretends to feel faint with a hand on his forehead. “You really have this hot smart girl thing figured out.”

You shake your head at him but smile, and Steve hates the fact that it’s your smile that makes him even harder.

He also hates the fact that fifteen minutes later he finds himself sliding into a booth at the local diner rather than sliding himself into your sweet pussy.

You’d cajoled him into taking you for a real meal since there was nothing to eat at his place. And no, you’d continued to argue. His cock was not a balanced meal.

His hand had been on your thigh for half of the drive to the diner before he realized, like ice water down his back, that the whole situation reeked of a date. He’d pulled his hand back over to clutch at the steering wheel with a double grip, eyes flitting to you anxiously. However you seemed not to notice, looking instead out the window pleasantly.

As he’d parked Steve had made a mental note to reel in the PDA. He didn’t want you thinking this was more than it was. More than a weekly fuck session between two consenting people. One of whom used to have the upper hand and one of whom…had the sexiest smile with lips that looked sinful wrapped around a stripped straw and cheeks that hollowed sexually as they sucked—

Fuck.

Steve Harrington was in trouble.

The meal went by quickly, and over time you were able to pull him from his rattled internal monologue, stealing his fries and teasing him for getting in trouble in class earlier in the day. Steve throws a fry at you and nudges your foot with his under the table. You laugh. His stomach flips. His palm itches so he drops it under the table and rubs it against the denim on his thigh.

When the waitress comes with the check, you bound to the bathroom and Steve gets a minute to get his shit together.

He’s Steve fucking Harrington. Supreme stud of Hawkins High. Another girl every week (although if he was counting, which he wasn’t, it had been a few weeks since he’d reracked his rotation). He fishes his wallet out of his too-tight jeans and drops down some bills.

“Thanks, handsome.”

Steve looks up, expecting to see you but instead realizing it had come from the waitress who he’d forgotten was standing there. She’s a pretty thing, maybe a year or two older. He’s seen her working here before and he lets his eyes roam over her figure unabashedly. Her uniform isn’t zipped up all the way in the front, leaving exposed a generous swell of cleavage and her waist flares out into a voluptuous set of hips. She taps a manicured nail on her order pad, patiently waiting for him to finish oogling her. She’s a hot girl and he’s a hot guy. She knows this dance and so does Steve. When he drags his eyes up from her tits to her face, she looks expectant.

This is the part where he chats her up. Where he compliments her - or cuts her down a bit in a boyish, redeemable way - and then asks her out. He’s supposed to give her his million watt rich boy smile, run a hand through his hair, and turn on the charm.

She’s expecting it. He’s expecting it of himself.

But instead, all he can manage is a nod and a tight smile. He watches the waitress’s brows raise and her smile fall a bit. But then she’s simply picking up the money and walking away. Steve has a moment of panic as his eyes drop to watch the sway of her ass as she retreats. What the fuck is wrong with him? He could have been tucked away in his car with that hot woman, spanking that ass within the hour.

Instead he’s still tucked away in a booth at a diner her didn’t want to go to, still painfully hard without an outlet in sight.

Which is when he hears your laugher ring out, causing said hard cock to twitch. Steve turns quickly to find you standing by the entrance to the bathroom, cornered by yet another football player.

He sees red. The way you’re leaning up against the wall is a mirror image to when he’d seen you receive attention earlier in the week by your locker. You gaze up at the football player with a smile that Steve realizes he’d assumed was only meant for him. It boils his blood to think that the smile you’d bestowed on him so dutifully, so loyally, was just your smile. A thing to be handed out like some cheap party favor to any Tom, Dick, or Harry.

Steve can’t know - especially from a distance - that you really are only humoring this guy. If one looked closer they could never mistake the tight lipped, emotionless nicety on your face for the radiant, full bodied smile you reserved for Steve. You’d gotten cornered by the jock on your way back to the bathroom, and you’d been trying to politely extricate yourself from his lukewarm advances for a few minutes now.

He was rambling about his car and the upgrades he’d gotten done to it when suddenly a pair of big hands land heavy on your shoulder.

“Babe, I paid the check. Let’s get out of here.”

You whip your head around to find Steve behind you, though his gaze is placed firmly on the football player. Though they aren’t the same in width, Steve’s got the guy beat in height, and he uses it to his advantage by standing up straight and puffing his chest a bit.

“Harrington,” the jock chokes out. In the Hawkins hierarchy, the basketball team is more successful than the football team by a long shot, so a certain amount of deference is expected for the king of the court, even from fellow athletes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…is this your girl?”

Steve feels you go rigid under his hold. Your eyes flash up to his but he doesn’t meet yours.

“Don’t you have a playbook to memorize?” Steve asks coolly. He pulls lightly and your back presses against his chest. “If I remember football season right, I’d say it’s gonna take you till fall and then some. Better get back to it.”

You try to laugh his comment off and put a hand on the bicep of your would-be suitor.

“Steve, this is—,”

“Mr. Irrelevant,” Steve completes for you, smoothly using both an insult and a football pun.

The jock stutters another apology before ambling back to his friends. You don’t have time to question Steve because his arm is suddenly around you, pulling you with him out the door.

The two of you walk briskly to his car, and only when you reach the passenger door do you finally regain your powers of speech.

“What was that in there, Steve?” you ask quietly. Your hand is on the door handle but you remain motionless.

“What? I told you, I don’t like football players,” Steve says with a shrug, yanking open the driver side door and dropping into his seat. You climb in carefully and watch him as he violently pulls on his seatbelt.

“Why?”

“Because they’re a bunch of meat heads and it’s a sport revolving around how many concussions they can rack up—,”

“No, Steve,” you interrupt gently, your hand dropping on his knee. “Why were you acting…possessive?”

Steve’s skin burns through his jeans where your hand touches him. He stares at it for a second before looking up, agitated.

“Well excuse me for saving you. I thought you’d be thanking me for getting that guy to stop drooling on you.”

His words sting and you wince. Steve even winces a bit, having not intended to sound so forceful. You shrug.

“He was only being nice.”

Steve let’s out a humorless laugh.

“That wasn’t being nice. That was undressing you with his eyes. That was trying to get you to let him feel you up under the bleachers. Nice is—,”

“Nice is flirting with your tutor to get her to do your homework?”

Steve freezes before he can turn the key in the ignition. He looks over to find that you’re staring blankly out the windshield. Your arms are hugging you, like you’re trying to comfort yourself.

“That’s not…”

“Nice is fucking her when you’re bored? Your little prescheduled sex appointment?”

Steve’s defenses raise and he unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn more fully to you.

“Hey wait, that’s—,”

“That’s exactly what this is. I haven’t misunderstood that, Steve,” you say, finally turning the full force of your earnest gaze on him. “Have you?”

Steve blinks at you slowly. Completely unsure about what’s going on and how the night has taken this turn.

He’s even more bewildered when you suddenly move to climb into the back seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks, surprised and leaning over to watch you lay yourself down on the seat.

“You wanted to fuck me earlier. So do it.”

Steve feels like you’ve slapped him in the face. Your stare is cool and you begin to unbutton your blouse. Panic rises inside of him and his head whirls around.

“Here? Someone could see,” Steve argues. They are in the back corner of the parking lot, but it’s a parking lot nonetheless, illuminated by one sole street lamp. You shrug.

“The windows are tinted, aren’t they?”

Steve can’t begin to comprehend the conflict coursing through his veins. Of course the windows are tinted. Almost illegally so. He knows that because he’s fucked countless girls in the back seat of his car. Hadn’t he even just thought about fucking that waitress in his car only minutes ago?

But with you…

He’s thrown off by the urge he has to cover your breasts with his hands when you peel back your top. Not even to touch you but just to keep you from being seen by others.

Why does he fucking care?

King Steve had fucked at every party he’d ever been to - sometimes even in rooms with no doors or up against the back of a house with people nearby on a porch. He’d never once had a conscience about it. As long as the girl was down, he was ready to go.

So why is it different now, with you stripping in his back seat and staring at him with big doe eyes?

“Come on. Don’t make me get started by myself,” you say teasingly. You’re clearly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. Steve swallows hard.

“You wouldn’t.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him and lift the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a lacy scrap of panties that match your bra. Definitely a far cry from the sensible underwear you’d been wearing the first time he’d seduced you.

“Try me.”

And despite the confusion and warning bells going off in his head, Steve’s clambering into the back seat in seconds. He’s on top of you, hips shoved between your thighs and big hands on your wrists, pinning them above your head against the inside of the car door.

“That’s more like it,” you coo, smiling a dazzling smile up at him. It thrills him and upsets him and makes him frustrated all at once, and since he doesn’t know how to express that with words he does it physically. His mouth drops to your neck so he can pull a sizable amount of flesh between his lips and suck. Hard. You gasp and arch up into him, giving him the perfect opportunity to switch your wrists into a single handed grip so he can move the other hand down to grope at your breasts. Instead of covering them and hiding them, he rips down your bra, letting your breasts spill from the cups.

Steve bites a bruising trail down from your neck to your cleavage, sucking harder than he ever has before.

“Trying to be cute, huh?” he growls against your skin. You laugh breathlessly, wrists straining against his hold.

“Yeah. ‘s it working?”

That makes Steve strangle a laugh but it still frustrates him. You’ve somehow still got the upper hand here. Even though you’re below him and your body is at his mercy. When did the tables turn so fully?

So he sits up abruptly, leaving you laying back, legs still open wide around his hips, his spit still drying around the new bruises sucked to your neck. You’re motionless for a second before leaning up on your elbows to look at him, dazed.

“I’m a little unconvinced,” Steve says with a shrug. A frown filters over your features. You watch as he smooths his hands up and down your thighs, looking at your panty-clad center appraisingly.

“What are you unconvinced about?” you ask. Steve draws a line with his index finger over the length of the waistband of your panties.

“That you really want it bad enough.”

Frustration flickers in your eyes.

“Want what?” you ask, playing along. Steve drops one hand to the bulge in his jeans.

“This cock.”

You roll your eyes and sit up higher.

“Of course I want—,”

“I’m not sure, baby. You were gonna touch yourself back here. Maybe I should have let you handle it.” His actions contradict his words as one hand rubs slow circles right at the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Your eyebrows knit together.

“No, I want you,” you reply, almost petulantly.

There it is.

This is what Steve needed.

But he shakes his head. Now that he’s got you back on the line he’s going to enjoy this to the fullest.

“Maybe you had the right idea,” he says, leaning back a bit against the opposite door. The backs of your thighs still rest on the tops of his, and with one hand still heavy on you, his free hand pops open the button of his jeans. You feel the slide of his zipper rush down your spine.

When Steve pulls his cock out and begins to stroke it, you feel your stomach drop and your mouth water. He’s watching you as he does it. Eyes darting from your breasts almost spilling out of the cups of your bra to the wet spot in the center of your panties. It makes you hot. It turns you on in a way that’s almost painful to watch the flushed fat head of his cock disappear and reappear in the grip of his fist.

“I’m…I’m right here,” you mutter. Steve grins and takes his hand from his cock and slides it confidently under the elastic hem of your panties.

“Yeah, you are.”

The intrusion of his fingers is sudden and sure and you gasp at the feeling of them sliding through your slick. He swirls a few circles around your tensing hole before sliding up to press circles into your clit. You drop back down off your elbows and let out a satisfied moan at the stimulation you’d craved.

But then…he’s pulling his hand back, allowing the elastic of your panties to snap back on you with a sting. You sit up again fast and watch as he takes the wetness he’d gathered from you to make the glide of his hand on his cock more smooth. Your jaw drops.

“Thanks, baby,” Steve says with a wink.

“Steve, what?!”

He shrugs.

“I would’ve asked you to spit in my hand but I didn’t think you would since you’re having an attitude.”

That. That struck exactly the nerve he thought it would. Your jaw sets and your eyes flash. Scooting back a bit so you, too, can lean on the inside of the door closest to you, you drop your legs open wider, well aware of the way Steve’s attention immediately drops to them.

“You’re not very nice, Steve Harrington,” you say quietly. Both of your hands move to squeeze at your own breasts and you arch into your own touch. Steve chuckles at that, eyes on your hands.

“And you’re nice even when you’re pissed apparently,” he says dismissively. Your frown deepens as you pull your bra down to expose you fully. Steve’s face goes blank, like you hoped.

“Fuck you,” you respond, just as quiet as before. Steve’s eyes remain glazed, hand moving faster on his cock, but he gives a lopsided grin.

“There she is. Feisty.”

The interior of the car has started to heat up. The humid smell of sex fills the air, though you’d prefer actually having sex. He’s been pushing it tonight, but you really can’t help the way you feel watching his big hand move on his even bigger cock. It should be inside you. This is the day of your tutoring session. The one day of the week that almost guaranteed you had his attention. Every other day, King Steve belonged to Hawkins. He was a heartthrob and a hometown hero. Probably inside of a different girl each night of the weekend (though you try not to think of that because it’s gross).

But on tutoring days it’s just you. So the fact that he’s choosing to touch himself rather than fill you has you feeling petty. It makes you redouble your efforts. You pinch one of your nipples and let out a heady, performative sigh, all while your other hand moves down and shoves inside your panties. You trace the same path Steve did, circling your hole and then your clit. Getting yourself nice and worked up with your eyes glued on the way Steve drags his hand over his throbbing dick.

Steve is mesmerized, as seems evident by the way he’s stopped talking to watch you. To hear you.

When you push two fingers inside of yourself, you let out an indulgent moan that causes Steve’s hips to buck into his hand. Your thighs quiver where they remain stretched out around his legs.

You drop your other hand down into your stretched out panties to play with your clit while you continue thrusting fingers in and out of yourself - that’s when Steve loses it.

“Show me,” he says gruffly, eyes ripping from the space between your legs to look up at you blearily.

“You’re literally watching me right now,” you laugh, breathless. Steve shakes his head and reaches out to tug on the edge of your panties.

“Get this shit out of the way.���

Now it’s your turn to shake your head.

“Nope. You had your chance with my pussy. You wanted your hand.”

The filthy words coming from you almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. He grunts and continues fisting his cock, but he looks more frustrated now.

Unfortunately there’s something of a Pavlovian response in your body at the sight of his aggression. Whether you like it or not, your burgeoning sexuality had crackled into being under the hands of Steve Harrington, and Steve being Steve is what gets you going.

Unlucky for you and the upper hand you’re trying to cling to, Steve can tell. Back to back weeks of fucking the same person will do that to you, apparently.

“You’re close.” It’s more accusation than observation.

You want to disagree but your fingers speed up on your clit and you widen your legs even more, looking to build pressure.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Fuck.” Steve slows his hand on his cock, breathing deeply and placing a laser focus on your hands in your panties. “Bet you’re getting tight around those fingers, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes closing and head thrown back against the door. “Really tight…”

Steve let’s out an uncharacteristically pathetic moan. The thrill of it causes your core to contract even tighter.

“Bet you wish I was sucking those tits right now,” Steve remarks, replaying in his head all the times he’d made you cum lately. You lift up to look at him with stern hooded eyes and pull one of your hands from your panties. With a pointed look you raise your fingers to your mouth, lick them wetly, and then bring them down to play with your nipple. Your hips buck into your other hand and Steve loses his fucking mind.

“Alright, that’s fucking it,” he says, launching himself forward. He’s on you in the blink of an eye, hitching your legs up and around his hips, dropping so that his elbows cage you in on either side of your head. The length of his cock slides parallel to your entrance with a wet sound, pushing your pussy lips apart.

“Finally,” you moan petulantly. And that’s all the consent Steve needs to reach down and line himself up so he can thrust into you.

Things get hot and hazy after that. Your fingers thread into his hair and pull hard at the roots. Steve’s tongue and teeth are everywhere, but especially on your pulse point and on the peaks of your breasts.

The slap of skin on skin fills the interior of the car, rivaled only by your shared panting.

Steve shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t be such a relief to sink into your body, like it’s a home he’s been waiting to return to. Your nails biting into his back through his shirt shouldn’t feel like heaven and your little mewls and gasps shouldn’t be an angel’s chorus. He’s not even fucking religious, so what’s with the holy comparisons?

“Oh Steve. Fuck,” you whisper moan right into his ear. Steve slides a hand under you to push your lower back up, giving your hips a tilt that lets him hit deeper.

“It’s good, yeah?” he asks. It’s a question but it’s cocky. You bite his earlobe and clench around him.

“I don’t know, is it?”

“Fucking Christ.”

Yeah. Steve Harrington is seeing god in the back seat of his car in a diner parking lot.

~*~

It takes a minute for you both to catch your breath when you’re done. Sweat and cum and words left unsaid create a film over the two of you which makes it hard to breathe.

Eventually Steve helps you climb back into the front seat before hoping behind the wheel himself to bring you back to the empty Harrington house. Upon arriving, Steve puts the car in park and turns to you, intent on speaking though he’s not sure what he plans to say. You, however, give him no such chance to figure it out as you bound out of the car and up the path to the front door. Steve catches up to let you in.

It’s later than it usually is when you wrap up your tutoring sessions. Steve has to turn on lamps as he follows you through the dark foyer and into the dining room where he finds you already grabbing your things and packing your bag up, half hidden in shadow.

“We didn’t finish the work,” he says quietly. Some what dumbly. You hoist your bag over your shoulder and give him a smile that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll have to finish another time.”

When you start for the door, moving at a brisk pace, Steve stumbles after you.

You’re over the threshold and making your way to your car, glowing in the yellow light of the porch lamp before Steve can blurt out.

“When?”

God, he does sound fucking dumb.

And you. You turn and give him one last smile. Looking so put together. So smart.

“That’s up to you, Steve,” you say with a shrug, opening your car door. “You let me know.”

And with that, you get in your car and drive away. Leaving Steve standing alone on his porch with his thoughts.

~*~

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Ahhh originally had no intention of writing a part two and then this happened. Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think and thanks for reading!!

#king!steve harrington #king!steve harrington smut #steve harrington smut #king!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things smut

[jaeyunverse]

skater boy

pairing: sim jake x fem!reader

genres: fluff, angst, crack, strangers to lovers, high school au

warnings: profanity, mentions of injuries, trauma and death, heavy angst towards the end, all my knowledge about skateboarding has come from google so this is not going to be very accurate LOL lmk if you think i missed anything!

wc: 9372

summary: jake hadn’t expected to see anyone at the skatepark in the middle of the night. he sure as hell hadn’t expected to fall in love the moment your gazes met either.

playlist: click here!

note: omg i wrote this on such a whim LMAOO i hope y’all enjoy it though!! i had a lot of fun w this fic and i’d love to hear your thoughts :”)

masterlist

Save for himself, Jake Sim was not used to seeing anyone use the skatepark at four in the morning. 

It was like an unspoken rule: early evenings were reserved for kids and middle-schoolers, late evenings for teenagers, nights for smokers and stoners, and the time right before the crack of dawn for him. 

Jake didn’t like skating in front of people. He liked it when he had the entire place to himself. He liked it when amateurs didn’t ask to be taught by him. He liked it when he wasn’t requested to perform stunts on his skateboard. 

He liked it when he was left alone. 

Which was why the sight of you trying to balance yourself on your board in his safe space ticked him off.

Jake knew he wasn’t being fair. The skatepark was public property, and anyone who wanted to use it could do so without being answerable to him. He couldn’t just tell you to leave. It wasn’t your problem he wanted to skate in solitude. 

Jake contemplated skipping for one night and going back home. Surely, you wouldn’t be here tomorrow as well. Based on how you handled yourself, it looked like you had never skated before. 

Heck, you couldn’t even get on without having to clutch on to the safety railings. This was probably just a one-time thing, and Jake hoped you’d realise skating was not for you, give up and never return again. At least not when he came to the park. 

Right as he was about to leave, your gaze met his and you lost control of the skateboard. It slipped from under your feet, and you landed on your backside with a sharp hiss. 

Excruciating pain shot up your ankle as you tried to pull yourself up again, tears springing from the corners of your eyes. 

Jake watched you struggle warily. A voice at the back of his mind urged him to help you out, but he silenced it. He wasn’t an asshole on a regular basis, but he was still pissed you were occupying the skate park. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, biting down on your lip to stop a whimper from escaping. You limped to where your skateboard had rolled and picked it up. Approaching Jake, you said to him with your gaze trained on the ground, “You can skate if you want. I was going to leave anyway.” 

He raised an eyebrow, not having expected you to leave immediately. Maybe his expression had been colder than he had thought it was. Or maybe you were just unwilling to skate while he was present—you did embarrass yourself in front of him after all. 

You made to move past Jake when he caught sight of your scratched arms. His eyes moved to your ankle immediately, assessing it. 

“Hey,” he called, causing you to stop in your tracks. “How are you going home?” 

You hesitated. Gulped. Looked around. Then answered, “My brother’s going to pick me up.” 

Jake didn’t need to be a genius to know you had lied. But he understood. It was the dead of the night, and no one was around except a strange boy who was asking you weird questions. Obviously, you were on your guard. 

“Your ankle’s sprained. I can tell from the way you’re limping.” He had no idea why he was still speaking to you instead of just saying okay and moving on. Maybe it was the guilt blossoming in him for being the reason behind your pain that made him offer, “There’s a 24/7 open supermarket around the corner. You should ice the injury before it swells. I can help if you want.” 

“Oh.” 

A beat of silence passed. Then two. Jake opened his mouth. “Or not,” he said and chuckled awkwardly. This was exactly why he never bothered to engage with people. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

“I think I’d appreciate your assistance,” you interrupted and gave him a tight-lipped yet grateful smile. 

Jake blinked. He hadn’t expected you to take him up on his offer. 

“Sure,” he said. “My car’s parked right here. We can walk too, if you’d prefer that,” he added upon watching your expression turn cautious. 

“I’d rather walk,” you admitted. “It doesn’t hurt a lot and the distance is not much so I think I can manage.” 

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Jake agreed without missing a beat. “Yeah. I’ll just—just hold on to your skateboard for you.”

God, this was so awkward. Jake was starting to regret ever offering to help you out. You clearly didn’t trust him, and he didn’t know how to convince you he had no ill intentions. 

“I’m Jake, by the way,” he said in an attempt to make conversation. “Are you from around here?”

You nodded, hissing a little as you walked beside him. “Yeah. I’m Y/N. I go to Grapevine High.”

“Grapevine?” Jake laughed, fisting his free hand at his side to keep it from snaking around your waist for support. He didn’t want to touch you without your consent—even though it was just to help. “That’s crazy. I go to Blue Valley High.” 

You gasped. “No way! You guys are such cheaters! The Championship Cup is rightfully ours.” 

“Sore losers call winners cheaters,” he teased. 

“You should be lucky I have a sprained ankle, or you’d be eating the ground right now.”

“You should be lucky Choi Yeonjun is graduating, or your school would be making a complete fool out of itself next year too.” 

You snorted. “Everyone knows your team paid the—Fuck!” 

Jake grabbed your arm the moment you lost your balance and pulled you towards him. You clutched his hoodie for support, involuntarily tugging him towards you as well. Jake almost tripped over his feet too but held his ground. 

“Do you need my help walking the rest of the way?” he asked, concern evident in his tone. 

Biting your lip in contemplation, you tried putting weight on your sprained ankle. You could feel the pain in your bones, so you glanced at Jake, your faces but a few inches away, and mumbled, “I’m sorry for being a bother.” 

Jake shook his head and wrapped an arm around your waist so he could assist you better. “Don’t apologise. I wouldn’t have offered to help if I thought of you as a bother.” 

The smile you gave him was a mixture of both grateful and relieved, and Jake couldn’t help the slight increase in the pace of his heart. Answering your unspoken gratitude with a reassuring upward curl of his lips, he waited for you to move your arm and sling it around his neck. 

“Do you always come to skate at the park?” Jake asked as the two of you slowly continued to the supermarket. “I’ve never seen you before.” 

You shook your head. “No. It’s a new hobby I’m trying to pick up.” 

“I can teach you if you want.” The words were out of Jake’s mouth before he could think of a reply. He paused for a second, waiting for the regret to settle in. Surprisingly, it didn’t, so he continued, “I’ve been skating since I was five.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? That’s so cool! You must be really good.” 

“I guess.” Jake laughed sheepishly and ducked his head, trying to hide the blush that was creeping on his cheeks. God, what was wrong with him? Not only had he offered to teach you how to skate (something he would have never done if it were someone else) but was also feeling shy at the hint of awe in your tone. 

“I—I don’t know,” you answered hesitantly. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“You won’t.” 

“Are you sure? You looked pretty annoyed when you saw me at the skatepark.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “No! I wasn’t annoyed,” he lied. “I was just surprised.”

You stared at him for a moment before smiling knowingly. “Whatever you say, skater boy.”  

He opened his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it. “Oh, thank God, we’re here.” 

Indeed, when Jake averted his gaze from you, he saw the supermarket in all its glory. It looked empty, save for the half-asleep cashier slumped in his seat at the billing counter.

You let go of Jake and limped on one leg through the automatic doors. Slamming your hand on the counter, you yelled, “Get up and do your fucking job, Sunoo!” 

Jake watched in slight confusion and shock as the cashier jumped in his seat, almost falling off. “What the hell, Y/N?! Do you want to give me a heart attack?” he demanded in a shrill voice, his hand on his chest. 

“Oh, shut up, I did you a favour. You know there are cameras in here, right?” you pointed out. 

“You know the owner is an old lady who doesn’t even know the T of technology, right?” Sunoo replied snarkily, and then asked as realization dawned on him, “Why the fuck are you out so late?”

Jake saw you tense. “I wanted to go for a walk.” 

Sunoo frowned. “Alone? Does your mom know?” 

“I’m not alone. I’m with my new friend.” 

Sunoo followed your gaze and finally noticed Jake awkwardly standing at the door. Scoffing, he asked, “Sim Jake’s your new friend?” 

You narrowed your eyes and scrutinised both boys. “You two know each other?” 

“I don’t know him,” Jake replied, looking just as lost as you were. “Do you know me?”

“I know of you,” Sunoo corrected. “You’re pretty popular. Y/N, on the other hand, is not. Hence my disbelief.”

“Hey, asshole!” you exclaimed and glared at Sunoo. “I just don’t talk to a lot of people!” 

“Neither does Jake,” Sunoo pointed out. “But he’s known as the hot, mysterious skateboarder who keeps to himself while you’re known as the friendless girl. Or not known as,” he amended. “Because you’re not, you know, popular.” 

“You half-witted son of a cunt—” 

Jake stepped between the two of you before things could escalate. “Okay, let’s all calm down.” 

“Tell him to shut the fuck up first!” you whined. “He’s being such a jerk to me!” 

The corners of Jake’s lips quirked at the sight of your bottom lip sticking out in a pout. He promptly ignored the way his heart rate picked up. 

“What’s your problem, Sunoo?” he demanded from the cashier. 

“My problem is that Y/N woke me up!” Sunoo burst out. “I was having an amazing dream and now I can’t remember any of it!” 

“Deserved,” you commented under your breath before saying out loud, “Whatever. Sleep during your shift or don’t; I don’t care.” 

“Good!” Sunoo snapped. 

Sticking your tongue out at him, you grabbed Jake’s arm and tugged him deeper into the store. “Let’s go.” 

Snaking his arm around your waist again, he let you direct him towards the refrigerators at the rear end of the supermarket. “Who is he?” 

“My neighbour.” You rolled your eyes. “We’ve known each other since we were toddlers and he’s been a huge pain in my ass the entire time. I want to punch him every time he opens his fucking mouth.” 

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Hatred isn’t a very sexy look on you, Y/N.” 

“As long as it’s a little sexy.” You wiggled your eyebrows. “I trashed his car because he spread rumours about me at school. He’s working night shifts to pay for the repairs but all I had to do was throw the best rager of the year to nullify what he had done.”

“Wow.” Jake laughed. “I would not want to get on your bad side.” 

You grinned cheekily. “I don’t think you can.” 

Once the two of you had reached the refrigerators, Jake helped you sit down on the floor and fetched an ice pack. 

You carefully removed your sneakers and socks and rolled your ripped baggy jeans up a few times. There was some swelling on the outer side of your ankle, but the injury thankfully didn’t seem to be severe. 

“Oh, good, there’s no bruising,” Jake also noticed. Sitting cross-legged in front of you, he gently stretched your leg and placed it on his lap. “You’ll heal in no time.” 

“Do you hurt yourself a lot while skating?” you asked as he pressed the ice pack to your wound. You had a low pain tolerance and distracting yourself by talking always proved effective. 

Jake shrugged. “Kind of. This month I tried to skate down the railing that divides the staircase in the children’s park and fell off. Fucked up my entire body and couldn’t move for a few days.”

Mentally cringing at the image forming in your mind, you questioned, “Why do you perform risky stunts if they’re so dangerous?” 

“It’s fun,” he answered and moved your ankle in all directions slowly. “Skating makes me feel alive. It’s something I’ve been doing since I was a kid, and I can’t imagine quitting just because of a few injuries here and there.” 

“Don’t people break bones and tear ligaments because of failed skateboarding stunts?”

Jake grinned. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t fail a lot. Besides, I usually wear full-sleeved clothes to avoid scraping myself. There’s a physical risk factor no matter what sport you pursue.”

You pondered over his words for a moment. “What made you start skateboarding?”

“This is starting to feel a lot like an interrogation.” He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his face. Your face heated in embarrassment, and you were about to apologise for asking so many questions when he continued, “I used to always see the skatepark while coming home from day care. My parents must have noticed me pressing my face against the car window each time we drove past because I was given a board on my fifth birthday. I’ve been skating ever since.”

“Woah. Isn’t that almost twelve years?” 

“A little over, actually. I turn eighteen this year.” 

Your lips parted in wonder. You’d met very few people who talked about skateboarding the way Jake did. His eyes were shining with barely contained excitement and his lips adorned a wide smile that sent your heart fluttering. 

You’d been uncertain before, but now you knew for sure you wanted to get to know this boy who had such love and passion for skating. 

“Does your offer to teach me how to skateboard still stand?” 

Jake beamed. “Always.” 

Jake hadn’t seen you for two weeks. While it hadn’t been that long, he strangely found himself missing you. 

It was as if something had clicked between the two of you when you’d been sitting on the supermarket floor. No one had ever bothered to ask Jake how he started skating, and he’d never seen anyone be genuinely so interested in his hobby. 

Jake never initiated conversations or even made a conscious effort to keep them going. Yet, the two of you had talked till the sun came up and only left when Sunoo kicked you out. 

He’d driven you home after and you’d exchanged phone numbers. He even made you promise him to see a doctor as he helped you up the porch stairs.

“I’ll message you when my ankle heals,” you had told him. “We can decide when to meet up then.” 

Jake had agreed, but as the days passed, he found himself itching to send you a check-up text. He’d never been one to overthink, so a few days later, you saw your phone screen lighting up with his name. 

For the next few weeks, the two of you texted constantly. From discussing which pasta sauce was superior to what your dreams were—you never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Jake couldn’t stop sparks of hope from igniting in him whenever he received a notification alert. 

He’d never felt this way for anyone. While it was scary for him to realise you were starting to become the reason he smiled so often now, he embraced the wave of affection that washed over him each time he thought of you. 

Texting every day turned to calling every day and calling every day turned to FaceTiming every day. Jake had become so comfortable around you that he wasn’t shy anymore to answer your video calls even though he was half-asleep and still in bed.

Unfortunately, the two of you weren’t able to meet again because of your heavy schedules. You were in a bunch of extracurriculars, and Jake had basketball practice after school. He missed you more than he would have liked to admit. 

AirPods in both ears, he was casually skating to the skatepark at 4 in the morning like usual when he caught sight of a figure leaning on the support railings. 

“No way,” Jake mumbled to himself and plucked his AirPods out of his ears. Getting off his skateboard, he hit its tail and began sprinting. 

The thud of his footsteps alerted you and you pocketed your phone. Pushing yourself off the railing, you turned around to greet him. 

Only to be thrown off your balance as he collided with you and engulfed you in a warm embrace. It took you a moment to react, but you laughed softly and wrapped your arms around him too. 

“Miss me so much, skater boy?” 

Jake pulled back and smirked at you. “Do you always call me skater boy because you don’t know my name?”

“Of course not!” You grinned. “You’re just so memorable, Jack. I couldn’t forget about you if I wanted to.” 

Amused, Jake raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re just going to go ahead and call me the whitest name to ever exist?” 

“Jack’s not too far from Jake,” you pointed out. “And you do have an accent.” 

“It’s Australian!” 

“Mhm.” 

Rolling his eyes playfully, he glanced at your leg. “How’s your ankle holding up?” 

“Completely healed,” you chirped and moved it in all directions, going as far as jumping in place to prove yourself. Jake fondly smiled at your actions, his eyes turning into smile crescent moons. “Don’t you think you should have asked me this question before you crashed into me with the force of a truck?” 

Laughing sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I just got excited.” 

“Nah, I missed you too.” You gave his shoulder a light-hearted punch. At your words, a seed of happiness sprouted in Jake’s chest. “Do you still want to teach me how to skate?” 

He grinned and set his board on the ground. “Get on. Without support.” 

“Wait, what?” you asked and glanced at the piece of wood nervously. “Just like that?” 

“You’re wearing the right kind of shoes so you’re already halfway there. Besides, it’s not that hard.” 

You shot him a dirty look. “Easy for you to say. I have zero balance, and this isn’t even a longboard.” 

“I’m surprised you know the terminology,” Jake commented. 

You looked a little taken aback for a moment, but you caught your bearings so fast he thought he’d imagined your expression. “I read up a little before coming.” 

“Oh.” Jake wasn’t completely satisfied with your answer, however, he let it slide without any further poking. “Well, you’re right; this isn’t a longboard. You have me to catch you if you fall off, though.” 

You stared at him for a moment. And then, “My ankle better not get fucked up again, skater boy.” 

“No promises.” 

Glaring at him playfully, you kept a foot on the skateboard tentatively. Your hand instinctively reached out to grab Jake’s sleeve, but you fisted it and forced it back to your side. 

This was turning out to be even harder than you’d expected. You were scared to put your other foot on the board in fear of it slipping under you like last time. 

However, your unwillingness to appear as a coward to Jake overpowered your anxiety. You were about to bite the bullet and just step on the board when Jake said, 

“Angle your feet sideways. Place your right foot in front of the left one.” 

Nodding without looking at him, you did as you were told. 

The skateboard moved a little as you stepped on it, a yelp leaving your mouth. Jake’s arms caged your figure from a distance, and you grabbed them immediately to stabilise yourself.

“Not that hard, was it?” 

You breathed a laugh and tried shifting the board a little from side to side using Jake’s support. “Apparently not.”  

He let go of your elbows as you got off the piece of wood. “You’re doing better than my first time on the skateboard already.” 

“Weren’t you, like, five?” 

“I’m really trying to be supportive here.” 

You snorted. “Why, thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” Jake popped and bowed dramatically. “You wanna go again?” 

The two of you must have practised and goofed around in the skatepark for hours—you could tell because of the sun rays that had begun to peek over the horizon. It didn’t feel that way at all, though. 

The concept of time never seemed to exist whenever you were with Jake both physically and virtually. No matter how long you spent with him, it never felt enough. 

Skating was a sort of therapy for Jake. He couldn’t go a day without cruising on the streets or performing stunts in the park when there was no one to watch. For you, though, he was ready to give it up. 

Being one of the reasons you smiled was of much more value to him. He loved the way your eyes sparkled as if they held the entire galaxy in them. He loved hearing you ramble about the most random things ever. He loved having someone he could be completely honest to.

Jake hated being cheesy, but he had to admit that his black-and-white life had suddenly turned vibrant and colourful when you entered it. 

He knew what this feeling was. Watching you confidently ride the skateboard with a huge smile on your face got rid of any fear he had. 

He wasn’t afraid to acknowledge his heart anymore. 

He was in love with you. 

Never had you imagined someone you’d only met a month ago would become so important to you.

Jake had come into your life when you needed him the most. Even though you couldn’t bring yourself to completely open up to him, his presence was enough. He made things easier for you. With him by your side, nothing felt impossible. 

But the weight of your guilt became a little too heavy to bear sometimes. So much so that you couldn’t help but think you didn’t deserve him. That you were moving on faster than people in mourning should. 

Were you even in mourning anymore? 

Your dead brother would have wanted you to escape the past and live your life. He would have wanted you to stop blaming yourself. He would have wanted you to find your safe space and heal. 

You were tired of the sympathy. You were tired of the it wasn’t your fault and there was no way you could have known. You were done with people telling you to stop torturing yourself. 

You deserved the emotional turmoil you experienced every single day. You didn’t deserve to get your pain taken away by Jake. 

It wasn’t hard to pretend in front of him. He wasn’t in your school and didn’t stay in your neighbourhood. The two of you had no mutual friends. He didn’t know you when you went through the biggest loss of your life. 

You felt guilty for putting up a happy facade and hiding the darkness in you when he was nothing but honest with you. Part of you wanted to tell him about your brother’s death, but underlying that urge was the fear of being thought of as someone who needed to be fixed. 

You didn’t know if you could survive another don’t blame yourself.

Jake was your escape from reality. When you were together, it was just you, him, and your skateboards. Being with him gave you a sense of normalcy. As much as you wanted to lay yourself bare in front of him, you didn’t want him to walk on eggshells around you. 

“What are you thinking about?” you heard him ask. 

Averting your gaze from the car window, you glanced at him and shook your head with a smile on your face. “Nothing.” 

“I can tell when you’re lying.” 

“I swear it’s nothing,” you promised, your heart constricting as the lie effortlessly left your mouth. “I’m just stressed about school. I have a lot of stuff due this week and a debate tomorrow. I’ve never been good with deadlines so I can’t help but be anxious.” 

He studied you for a moment, as if mulling over your words. You could tell he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push you further. Maybe that was why you were so comfortable around him. He never forced you to talk about something and always let you open up at your own pace. 

All he did was offer comfort and let you know he would be there for you no matter what. It was more than you could have ever asked for. 

“Do you want me to drop you back home?” he suggested, concern evident in his tone. “We can hang out once you’re done with your submissions and have a lesser workload.” 

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just lie in bed and think about all the things I haven’t done yet. I’d rather not be alone with my thoughts.” 

“Fair enough,” Jake said and turned his attention to the road again. 

There was silence for the next few minutes. You turned in your seat and reached for the back of the car to fetch your skateboards when Jake turned the corner of the park. 

“Don’t,” he said, making you pause. “We’re not going to skate today.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“I have something else in mind.” Jake glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and gave you an excited grin. “I think you’ll love it.” 

“Really?” you asked, chuckling a little. “Where are we going?”

“Surprise” was all he said. 

Jake’s ‘surprise’ would have been pretty good if you hadn’t identified where you were headed the minute he took the turn that led you out of the town and towards the beach. 

For his sake, you pretended to be oblivious to your surroundings. He was right about the other thing, though. You were loving the direction this night had taken.

Besides, now that you thought about it again, it technically was a surprise to you that Jake remembered the one time you’d mentioned your liking for late-night walks on sandy shores. 

“No way.” You feigned a gasp and looked at him. “The beach!”

He gave you a pointed stare. “Shut up. I know you knew we were coming here.” 

“Yeah, okay,” you said and shrunk in your seat. He laughed softly. “But I really do appreciate you bringing me here.” 

Putting his arm on the headrest behind you, Jake put his car in reverse so he could park it. “And I appreciate you not bursting my bubble and embarrassing me. At least until I deduced how dumb I was to not expect you to know we were going to the biggest attraction of our town.” 

You grinned. “Ten out of ten for effort.” 

Looking at you, Jake rolled his eyes, and that was when you noticed your proximity. Your faces were so close you could count his eyelashes and see the brown flecks in his irises. 

The smile on your face dropped and your gaze flitted to his lips for half a second. Then went back up to find that his eyes were on your lips now. 

Your gazes met before you could look away and pretend whatever sparks you’d just felt had been nothing but a result of your wild imagination. 

He sucked in a breath. You braced yourself, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to leap out of your chest. 

Anticipation paralysing you in place, you could only watch Jake as he leaned in for a kiss. However, the seatbelt prevented him from closing the distance between your lips and a string of curses left his mouth instead. 

“Motherfucker,” he mumbled under his breath and fumbled with the buckle. You snapped out of your reverie and ducked your head, letting your hair fall over your face to hide your fluster. 

Jake struggled with the buckle, his hands shaking due to his embarrassment at not having thought things through and frustration at being cockblocked by a fucking strap around his torso.

You bit down on your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Deciding to take a leap of courage, you cupped his face in both hands, causing him to stop his actions and look at you.

You glanced at his mouth again and closed your eyes, finally placing your lips on top of his. 

At that exact moment, Jake’s belt buckle snapped open. Grabbing the back of your neck with a hand, he pulled you closer and kissed you harder. His other hand went to your buckle, unfastening it with the kind of expertise he hadn’t been able to showcase while he was undoing his own. 

You let your arm travel to his shoulder for support. Pushing yourself up, you climbed on him and straddled his lap. 

Jake’s seat jerked back as he adjusted it to accommodate you comfortably. His hand rested on your waist, the other one still wrapped around your nape. His thumb caressed your cheekbone gently—a total contrast to the passion with which he was kissing you. 

Running your tongue over his lip, you wove your fingers through his silky strands and tugged at them. He opened his mouth in response to your glaringly obvious request and tilted his head to the side, allowing you to deepen the kiss further. 

Jake knew he’d wanted this for a while now, he just hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted it. Pure, undiluted euphoria was coursing through his veins.

Part of him wanted to pinch himself to confirm that no, this wasn’t a dream, but he reckoned that wasn’t sexy and would ruin the mood. 

Out of breath, you detached your mouth from his. Jake’s lips chased after yours, unwilling to be separated from them just yet. He kissed you a few last times before burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

You rested your forehead on his shoulder, idly scratching the hair at his nape as you tried coming down from the high of the kiss. 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Jake rubbed soothing circles on the curve of your waist with his thumb, puckering his lips to leave a trail of butterfly kisses on your neck that caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin. 

You wanted him to say something—anything. What were the two of you now? This wasn’t a situation that was caused because you went with the flow and got a little too lost in the moment. The moment was over, and you were still nestled in his lap. His arms were still around you and holding you close, as if he never wanted to let you go. 

This wasn’t a mistake. This clearly meant something to him. 

Whatever this was, it was real. Real and genuine and infinite—

“I love you,” Jake mumbled against your neck. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you froze for a moment. This was the last thing you’d expected to hear.

He shifted so that the two of you were facing each other and gazed at you with wide, vulnerable, honest eyes. “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” 

You were at a loss for words. “Jake…” 

“I know it was selfish of me to drop something so heavy on you without a warning, but I had to get it out,” he continued, a tremble evident in his voice. “I just wanted you to know what I felt for you. I couldn’t pretend any longer—” 

“Jake,” you stopped him before he could go on, tears pooling in your eyes. “Don’t. Please.” The expression on his face tore your heart to shreds. “I’m sorry.” 

He remained frozen for a moment, as if waiting for you to take your words back. But you didn’t. You didn’t and Jake thought he was dying and his soul was being ripped apart. 

He had thought he would be able to handle your rejection, but then you had kissed him as if your life depended on it and his hopes had skyrocketed. Now, his heart was shattered, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to pick up the pieces.

The wound you’d inflicted on Jake was one that would never stop bleeding. 

Tears escaped your eyes as you opened the door of his car and climbed off him. Jake vacantly kept staring at where you’d been sitting in his lap, and you were about to shut the door when he said, “Wait.” 

He turned to look at you, pain and heartbreak colouring the whites of his eyes red. The sight only made your anguish increase tenfold.

“I’ll drop you back home,” he said. 

You opened your mouth and closed it again, unable to form a reply. Jake noticed your hesitation and clarified, “It’s not safe for you to go back alone. Please, let me drive you home. I promise this won’t mean anything.” 

You never thought you’d hated yourself so much. You’d stomped on his heart and here he was, begging you to let him do something nice for you.

Gulping, you nodded once and walked to the passenger’s seat on the other side. Jake had closed his door and strapped his seatbelt again by the time you opened the door of your seat. 

Wordlessly, he started the car and began driving. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his knuckles turn white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You swallowed the urge to apologise again and fisted your hands in your lap, averting your gaze to the window instead. 

The next thirty minutes were absolutely torturous. The air was thick with tension, and you didn’t know how to approach Jake. You didn’t think he even wanted to be approached by you. 

Hell, he probably never wanted to see you again. You were a complete monster for being so cruel to him right after you kissed him and gave him hope. There had been better ways to deal with the situation. 

The car came to a stop in front of your house. You glanced at him, but Jake was staring at the road silently, his grip on the wheel not having loosened even a bit. 

Your heart sank. Biting down on your lower lip, you tried keeping your whimper inside. Wordlessly, you unfastened your seatbelt and threw the door open. 

It was an effort to not glance back at Jake as you walked to the porch of your house. The moment you were inside, you heard him rev his car and drive away. 

Forever. 

Jake was a mess. 

He had been cooped up in his room and wallowing in self-pity the entire week. Technically he did leave for school because his parents kicked him out and he did attend basketball practice because his coach was on his ass. 

But other than that, he was at home, not even sneaking out to skate. He couldn’t be bothered to play the sport anymore.  

It was crazy how you had essentially ruined the only thing he was passionate about. Every time he looked at his skateboard, he was reminded of the times you had shared and the memories you had made. 

He was reminded of how you’d made him fall in love with you. 

You had forgotten your board in his car the night everything went to hell. Jake had brought it up to his room and propped it right next to his, noticing that the two pieces of wood looked really good next to each other. 

He had slapped himself hard when he came back to his senses. He was being so pathetic.

However, he reckoned he did have a good reason to brood and play Valorant, cussing out his teammates for faults that were clearly his. 

You had kissed him and then rejected him in the worst way possible. Begging him to stop pouring his heart to you? That hurt. 

And Jake was going to make it the problem of four people he had never met before. 

“I will boil your fucking balls if you die again, HoonVader6969,” Jake growled into the mic of his headphones. “You have contributed nothing to this game.” 

“Hey!” HoonVader6969 protested from the other side. “I have 2 kills!” 

“2 kills in 8 rounds is pathetic, you son of a bitch!” 

“What the hell, LegendJake404?” HeeKing1510 exclaimed as Ddeonu8809 used his ability and killed an enemy. “Hop off HoonVader6969’s dick! You didn’t land any kills and were the first to die in almost all matches!” 

Jake snorted. “I’d hop off HoonVader6969’s wiener if he had one.” 

JongDong111 laughed. “Can confirm from experience that LegendJake404 is right.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jay!” HoonVader6969 yelled in a strained voice. “We had a deal!” 

“The deal was to not mention the size of your dick to people we know,” JongDong111—Jay—countered smoothly. “I don’t think we’d associate ourselves with someone who calls themself a fucking legend.” 

“You’re one to talk,” Ddeonu8809 came to Jake’s defence. “You literally have a dong in your name.” 

Jake froze, identifying his teammate immediately. The reaction cost him, and he died. Now watching the game through JongDong111’s perspective, he exclaimed, “Sunoo?!” 

“Yeah,” he replied, unamused. “It’s me. You got yourself killed again, by the way, asshole.” 

“Damn,” HeeKing1510 muttered. “You all knowing each other is making me feel left out.” 

“Woah,” Jake interrupted. “Why am I an asshole?”

“Y/N’s been depressed all week because of you! It’s no fun being mean to her when she isn’t willing to fight back!” 

Jay whistled lowly. “Valorant player breaking a girl’s heart? That’s gotta make headlines. Some of us can’t even talk to the opposite gender.” 

“I’m gonna fuck you up, Jay,” HoonVader6969 threatened. “Stop indirecting me.” 

“Sure, Sunghoon,” Jay mocked. “We’ll see how good your fucking skills are.” 

“Get back in the closet, fucker. June’s over,” Jake snapped. “Sunoo, what do you mean Y/N is depressed because of me? She rejected me!” 

Jay hummed. “Oh, yeah, this version makes more sense.”

“You think she doesn’t feel anything for you? Did you even ever ask why she turned you down?” Sunoo questioned as another round began. Jake chose his ammunition, thousands of thoughts racing through his mind at the speed of light. He was utterly confused; what was Sunoo implying? “Or have you been screening her calls and leaving her texts on delivered all week?” 

“Not cool, dude,” HeeKing1510 said in a disappointed voice. “Also, I’m Heeseung.” 

“Nobody cares.” 

“I see why Jay bullies you, Sunghoon.” 

Jake ignored them. “I needed some space to get my shit together. She begged me to stop confessing right after she kissed me, Sunoo. And now she’s trying to get back in touch with me? What am I supposed to think?!” 

It was incredibly stupid of Jake to talk about his shitty love life in front of a bunch of strangers who had probably never felt the warmth of another person, but he didn’t care. He needed answers. What the hell was Sunoo talking about? 

“Look.” Sunoo sighed. “I don’t wanna say anything on Y/N’s behalf, but I’ll suggest you to not ghost her and respond. You guys need to talk. She knows that which is why she’s trying to get hold of you.” 

“Why do you know so much about this Y/N person?” Sunghoon asked suspiciously. 

“She’s my neighbour slash best friend slash mortal enemy slash parasite on my Netflix account.” 

Jake frowned. “Your best friend trashed your car?”  

“Wait, she was the one who trashed my car?!” 

Jake pulled his computer’s plug. 

Your jaw was quite literally on the floor. 

Jake had finally texted you back and agreed to meet you the same night. However, instead of feeling relieved that you’d be able to explain yourself to him, you felt on edge and jittery. 

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop being nervous about what his reaction would be.  

After several sleepless nights and a lot of overthinking, you’d at long last deduced why his opinion of you mattered so much. 

You were in love with him. And you were scared that once you revealed your past to him, he wouldn’t accept it and love you for all your faults. 

You knew Jake deserved more credit than you were giving him—he understood you like no one else did, for God’s sake—but your fear of opening up to someone and laying yourself bare in front of them was tearing you apart. 

Maybe part of you hoped he would feel overwhelmed. Maybe part of you thought it would be better if he didn’t want to deal with your issues. Maybe part of you felt that you didn’t deserve Jake because you still hadn’t forgiven yourself for your brother’s death. 

Maybe that was why you had pushed him away and were sabotaging your relationship. Maybe it was all to punish yourself and hurting Jake in the process had only been the collateral. 

God, you were a terrible person for keeping your feelings bottled up and not dealing with them. You never should have left him in the dark. 

Sighing, you turned on your stomach and screamed into your pillow. You’d been lying in bed all day, not even bothering to go downstairs to drink water when you felt thirsty. 

Your parents had knocked on your door, concerned, but you’d waved them away and said you were on your period and had cramps. 

They didn’t believe you, but you were too distracted by Jake to tell them you weren’t thinking about your brother. You didn’t stop them when they booked an appointment with your therapist the next day. 

Feeling a little better after having screamed your lungs out, you dragged yourself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. 

You looked absolutely horrible. The person staring back at you from the mirror reminded you of the initial few weeks after your brother’s death. You had huge dark circles under your bloodshot eyes, and your lips were chapped and colourless. 

Your hair was a bird’s nest. Your head was pounding, and you had to grip the sink to keep yourself steady. 

You had to clean up. You couldn’t let Jake see you like this. There was nothing you could do to get rid of the exhaustion visible in your eyes, but you could have a bath and put on some makeup to cover your awful physical state at least. 

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to yourself. 

I can do this. 

Jake thought you had told him to meet you at the town park near your house instead of the skatepark that was slightly farther for a reason. Given what had happened the last time you were in his car, he suspected you didn’t want to enter it again.

Or maybe the place reminded you of your ruined friendship. It certainly did to him. He hadn’t visited the skatepark at all the past week. 

Jake had no way to confirm what your intentions were, so all he did was drive anxiously to your decided meeting place. 

You weren’t meeting in the dead of the night this time. It was early—around 6 p.m—and he couldn’t help but think you had suggested that hour because the town park was filled with people. 

Did you not want to be alone with him either?  

Shaking his head to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, Jake parked his car in the parking space and shut the door behind him. 

As he walked to the benches near the pond you had agreed to meet at, his phone lit up. 

y/n: i’m here

jake: omw 

He frowned at his reply. Was he being too informal? Should he have said something along the lines of almost there?

Before he could overthink anymore, a voice broke him out of his reverie. He jumped a bit, not expecting to have already reached the benches. 

“Hey,” you mumbled and attempted a smile. Upon failing miserably, you cleared your throat and averted your gaze away from him. 

Jake’s heart clenched. He was relieved to see you again after a week of zero contact, but he hated the sight of you looking so exhausted. You’d covered up your dark circles with concealer and tried to put some colour to your face using a rosy blush, but he saw right through it all. 

Maybe he should have not ignored you. It seemed that while he was busy getting over your rejection, he hadn’t given much thought to how his confession had affected you. 

“How are you?” Jake asked as he took a seat beside you on the other end of the bench. He realised what a stupid question it was the moment the words left his mouth. You looked miserable. 

You shrugged and wrapped your hands around yourself. He could barely see your face because of your hoodie. “Surviving. You?” 

“Surviving.” 

Silence followed your short-lived conversation. Jake racked his brain to search for things to say, but you beat him to it. 

“Are you wearing concealer?” 

His eyes widened. “W—what?” 

“It’s not blended well.” You pointed at his swollen eyes half-heartedly. “You did a sloppy job.”

Embarrassment crept up Jake’s neck and tinted the tips of his ears red. “Yeah? So did you.” 

You closed your mouth at that. Personally, you thought you’d done a good job at covering how pathetic you felt. You’d gone as far as watching a few episodes of Modern Family to uplift your spirits. Your parents had even said that you looked better when you were leaving the house. 

But then again, it had never been hard for Jake to read you. 

Sighing, you dropped your gaze to your lap and fumbled with your fingers. “Thanks for coming.” 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” 

Swallowing thickly, you nodded once. “I’m sorry too.” 

“Y/N,” Jake begged. “Look at me. Please.” 

Eyes burning, you hesitantly faced him. There were tears welling in his bloodshot eyes too but he didn’t bother wiping them away. It broke your heart to see how much your actions had hurt him. 

You knew him well enough to know he hadn’t put makeup on to protect his pride but to protect you from feeling even more terrible about what you had done. 

You needed to tell him the truth. Right now. He deserved to know all of it. 

Wiping your tears, you asked him, “Do you remember the night we met? I told you my brother was going to come to pick me up but then you dropped me home after we finished icing my ankle in the supermarket?” 

Slowly, Jake nodded. “I do.” 

“I lied to you that day,” you continued, bracing yourself for what you were about to say next. “My brother was never going to come to pick me up. He’s dead. He has been for a little over a year now.” 

You couldn’t bear to see the shock on his face. You couldn’t bring yourself to wait for the sympathy to replace it instead. So, you looked away again and kept talking before he could speak, 

“He was a skater too. A really good one. He loved me and cared a lot for me. I used to be so surprised when my friends talked shit about their brothers. Mine used to tease me a lot but he never got me into trouble. We were tight, and always had each other’s backs. 

“I sneaked out to a party one day and my brother caught me. Usually, he drove me wherever I needed to go because I have overprotective parents, but he’d donated blood that day and he wasn’t supposed to drive. I buttered him up and got him to let me borrow his car keys on the condition that I wouldn’t drink and would come back home before dawn. I was desperate to leave so I brushed him off and promised him that I would stay sober.” 

Laughing humourlessly, you shook your head. Your lower lip wobbled as you resumed, “Spoiler alert: I didn’t keep the fucking promise. I got absolutely wasted. Somehow, my brother got to know and left to pick me up. I think it was through someone’s snap because I remember drinking from a beer bong and people recording it. He didn’t want me staying at my friend’s place overnight because that would have gotten both of us in trouble.” 

You sniffled and swallowed a sob. Jake and you were in a fairly secluded place but there were still a few other people, and you didn’t want any unwanted attention. 

“He got in my mom’s car to come to get me—he thought he’d given enough time for the side effects of the donation to fade. The police said he must have fainted while driving. The doctors performed surgery on him the entire night, but they couldn’t save him.” 

Finally looking at Jake, you said, “And you know what the worst part is? I didn’t know he’d been in a car crash till he was dead. Amidst all the panic, my parents didn’t think about waking me up when they got the call, so they never knew I wasn’t at home. I had passed out at my friend’s house from partying too much while my brother died on his way to pick me up.”

Jake’s lips parted. “Y/N…” 

“Everyone keeps saying it wasn’t my fault and my brother should have known better because he was an adult. I hate that my parents don’t hate me for killing their firstborn. I hate that they’re paying one of the best therapists in town to get me through this. I hate that nobody blames me even though I’m responsible for his death. I’m supposed to face the consequences of what I’ve done. I’m supposed to be suffering and I hate that you make things easier for me. I hate that I’ve made you fall in love with a killer—”

“You’re not a killer, Y/N—” 

“Then what else am I!” you burst, tears freely falling down your face now. “I’m a horrible person, Jake! I don’t deserve you and your goodness. I don’t deserve love!” 

“Don’t say that—” 

“Do you know why I was at the skatepark the other day?” you asked angrily. “I wanted to learn how to skateboard so I could feel closer to my brother. He always wanted to teach me. He thought it would be a good way for us to bond, but I always had an excuse. Extracurriculars, academics, exams—I never made time for him and his passion. I wanted to learn how to skateboard because it was my way of keeping him in my heart. 

“But then you came along, and you made me so happy. You knew nothing about my past, and I craved the normalcy I felt when I was with you. It was so easy to befriend you because I didn’t have to take your sympathy and be treated as someone who needed to be fixed. It was so easy to fall in love with you because you were able to offer me comfort despite having no idea about the most traumatic experience of my life!

“I thought I could push you away. I thought I could punish myself by not allowing myself to move on, but I only broke your heart in the process. I don’t know what to do. I don’t wanna be hurting anymore, but it feels wrong and selfish to wish for happiness when I’ve done such a monstrous thing.” 

The floodgates were released, and you were sobbing openly now. Your throat was closing up and its insides felt like sandpaper. Your head was throbbing, and your vision was completely foggy. You felt dizzy. 

Jake scooted closer and wrapped his arms around you, tears falling from his eyes as well. He pulled you against him and let you bury your face in his chest. He hated seeing you in so much agony, but he had no words to offer. 

So, he let you cry for as long as you wanted, rubbing soothing circles on your back and caressing your hair. 

Jake couldn’t even begin to imagine going through such a loss. He admired you for pushing through for so long. He was proud of you for being brave enough to open up to him. 

He still loved you just as much and he was going to make sure to never leave your side as you navigated through your pain. 

Never.

“Jake, we’re late!” 

“Hold on, I’m trying to find my hoodie!” 

Grimacing, you yelled back, “I was wearing it yesterday and spilt mustard sauce on it.”

There was silence for a moment. Then heavy footsteps that sounded a lot like stomping. Then—

“You did what?!”

“I’m sorry!” you whined. “I’ve dropped it at the dry cleaners already!”

Jake gave you a dirty look and shrugged on the denim jacket lying on his sofa. “Don’t bother returning it.” 

“I can’t do that,” you said and slipped your hand through his, tugging him along. “You have to wear it for a few weeks so it starts smelling like you again and I can steal it once more.” 

“I’d offer you another hoodie, but I don’t know how I feel about something else being spilt on it.” 

“Bold of you to assume you have any hoodies left, skater boy.” 

Despite himself, Jake laughed and pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You cheeky motherfucker.” 

“What are you going to do about it?” you challenged as the two of you reached his car and strapped yourselves. 

He hummed. “Leave early?”

“C’mon, threaten me with something realistic.” 

“You don’t think I’d do it?”

“You love me too much and haven’t seen me in over two weeks. I know you wouldn’t do it. I’m actually surprised you even thought of it.” 

“You got me.”

Snorting, you relaxed and looked outside the window. It was a pleasant day outside. The sky was clear, and the sun was shining. Everyone had huge smiles, thanks to the beginning of summer break. 

Jake and you had been dating for a little less than two years now. You were both in college now and pursuing your dreams. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get into the same university, but were thankfully in the same state, living just an hour away from each other. 

You didn’t know if you could call your relationship long-distance since traffic was the main reason your travel time crossed the sixty minutes mark.

Nonetheless, you were happy and were making it work. You were in a much better place than you were two years ago. You had an amazing boyfriend who loved you more than you thought was possible and stood by your side no matter what, and a therapist who actually understood you and helped you come to terms. 

Right now, the two of you were on your way to the local skatepark. You hadn’t been able to find much time to keep practising, but Jake had kept his skills polished and made it a point to visit the park at least three to four times a week. 

You were probably going to hurt yourself and make a huge fool of yourself in front of the kids who skated there—he had told you they were extremely talented for their age and had taught him some new stuff too—but it was okay. 

You weren’t afraid to fall anymore; you knew Jake would always be there to catch you. 

#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jake imagines #jake scenarios #enhypen fluff #jake fluff #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enhypen oneshots #jake oneshots #enhypen fanfiction #jake fanfiction #enhypen soft hours #jake soft hours #enhypen #sim jake #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #jake drabbles #enhypen angst #jake angst #enhypen timestamps #jake timestamps #enhypen blurbs #jake blurbs #enhypen fanfic #jake fanfic #sim jaeyun

[deathblacksmoke]

aphid attraction

pairing: noah sebastian x nick ruffilo

cw: masturbation interruption, voyeurism/exhibitionism

author’s note: i have a follow up to this in the works that i will be posting on ao3 as well as on here for a change, so i figured part one should be up here as well. first fic post on tumblr so please be gentle (you don’t have to ig, but would be nice)!

read on ao3

**************************************************************

He’s been sitting on the couch twiddling his thumbs for 15 minutes when he starts to get annoyed. The plan had been to leave at 5 to check out new gear for the fall tour, so when it’s nearing half past and Noah still hasn’t so much as popped his head out to acknowledge Nick’s existence, yeah, he’s a little pissed off about it.

Because Noah always fucking does this.

And Nick never gets annoyed, ever, remains the perfectly neutral friend at all times, but come on.

Just this once he’d like a little consideration for his time.

He decides he may as well head up to Noah’s room and see what’s taking so long. Not to give him a piece of his mind like he’d like to, but he’ll probably fantasize about it for days to come.

He opens the door without knocking, irritated, but Noah’s name barely makes it past his lips before he’s stopping in his tracks and taking in the sight in front of him.

It’s not anything, really. At first. He’s momentarily annoyed that Noah is sitting at his desk with his headphones on, like they don’t have plans, before he realizes what exactly Noah is doing.

One, Noah has a picture of Nick pulled up on one of his screens, which probably wouldn’t be anything of note if not for the second thing:

Noah’s hand in his lap, moving slowly over himself. Not inside his pants, and not stroking, really, but…rubbing, and then, the third thing:

The sounds he’s making. Subtle. Quiet. Bordering on fucking pornographic. The breathy exhales. The little whines. The quiet moans, so soft that Nick probably wouldn’t be able to make them out if he wasn’t listening so fucking intently.

Noah’s head is tipped back, ever so slightly. His lips parted, so prettily, cheeks flushed. He takes in the scene. He knows he should go, that it’s not right for him to be here. It’s not fair. Noah isn’t actively looking at the picture, it’s fine, could just be a weird little coincidence that he’ll surely never think about again. Until:

Nick hears his name, slipping past Noah’s lips like it’s fucking nothing. Like a prayer.

Oh my god, Nick. Nick, jesus, oh my fucking god.

There’s not really any mistaking that.

He should go. He should close Noah’s door, leave the room, leave the house, maybe the band, probably the country. But he’s glued. Feet glued to the floor and eyes glued to fucking Noah, whining Nick’s name like it’s as easy to him as breathing.

A leap of faith, maybe, but suddenly he’s never needed anything more than Noah’s eyes on him. He forces himself to remain calm for the moment it takes him to walk over to Noah’s desk and slide his headphones off his head to land around his neck and shoulders.

Noah’s spinning his head around so fast it must give him whiplash, looking up at Nick in surprise and annoyance, and once it seems he’s processed who he’s looking at, a panicked recognition.

He almost hates how hot he finds it, Noah looking at him like he is. Terrified. But they both know that Nick wouldn’t hurt him.

What a nice change of pace.

Noah hasn’t even bothered to try to scramble to turn off his monitors. Hasn’t moved his hand from his lap. Hasn’t done fucking anything but stare up at Nick with his lips parted, fearful eyes.

“Whatcha doin’?” Nick asks, shifting his eyes from the monitor, to Noah, to Noah’s hand, still facing palm down in his lap.

“I… you’re early.” Noah excuses, fumbling with his words, hand twitching like he’s thinking about moving it, but Nick’s not so sure he wants that.

“You’re late.” Nick counters, narrowing his eyes, irritation entirely gone but finding fun in playing mad.

Nonetheless, he sinks to his knees and swivels the chair around so he’s at Noah’s feet. Looking up at him, Noah’s expression is shifting, from fear to something less, something different, like an excited nervousness. An uncertainty.

“Were you looking at me?” Nick asks, and Noah’s quiet for a long moment, like he’s considering if there’s a believable lie he could use. Then he nods.

“I’m sorry.” Noah says.

Nick shakes his head. He’s amazed, never realized before how much he likes Noah like this. Small and resigned. Fucking quiet.

“Go ahead.” Nick says, grinning. His eyes pan pointedly from Noah’s face to his lap and back up again. “You’ve got the real thing right here. Go ahead, Noah, keep going.”

Noah doesn’t move. His finger twitches. Nick looks up and his eyes are wide open and unblinking.

“Do you want me to leave?” Nick asks. Somehow, he hadn’t considered the possibility.

Noah shakes his head, thankfully. Then he speaks up, “Please don’t,” and Nick fucking melts.

“Go ahead, then.” Nick says, but Noah doesn’t move. “Noah, I told you to go. Now go.”

Noah starts slow, palming himself and panting. Then he gets brave, slips his hand beneath the waistband of his sweats and god, Nick swears his heart stops for a moment.

Nick lets out a breath as Noah’s hand speeds up on his cock, and it may be the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“Nick, will you-?”

“I’m not touching you, baby.” Nick interrupts. Noah frowns, whines. “You were doing it like this anyway, yeah? You’ll be okay. I’ll touch you next time.”

At the mention of a next time, Noah’s gasping, shifting in his seat, letting out a long groan.

“Yeah, you want that?” Nick teases, eyes on Noah’s lap, fascinated. He can see Noah nodding his head desperately from the corner of his eye. “Get your cock out and let me see you, Noah.”

Noah groans but complies, pulling his waistband under himself and putting on a show for Nick.

His grip is tight, desperate, his stroke is fast, and he must have already been close when Nick got here, because then,

Noah’s whining, arching his back, cum hitting his t-shirt and spilling over his tattooed fingers, Nick’s name on his lips.

Nick thinks he’s so gorgeous.

Before Noah can say anything, Nick is grabbing a t-shirt from the floor and tossing it at him.

“Clean yourself up. We’re fucking late.” Nick says as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

10 minutes later when they’re finally making their way to the car, Noah shoves his phone in Nick’s face, their text messages pulled up on the screen.

Nick’s text reads, I’ll see you at 6.

“I told you you were fucking early.” Noah scoffs, laughing and pocketing his phone again.

#noah sebastian/nick ruffilo #noah sebastian/nicholas ruffilo #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #nick ruffilo fic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works

[royal-ruin]

red, white, and royal blue fanfic rec (part 3)

other rwrb fic recs here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

the too much that you aren't by DemonPoxHerondale (~2k)

Henry has always been an introvert. High energy situations can get overwhelming, and as much as he loves his boyfriend, it's impossible to deny that he's high energy. Back when they were sneaking around to see each other, the short bursts of interaction meant that they never really clashed. But now that they're living together, well, it's another story.

as an introvert, i get it

champagne problems by alec_rhee (~3k)

Henry’s eyes are otherwise occupied as he closes them, planting a kiss to Alex’s head, but Alex sees Benjamin’s eyes move to Henry’s lap. Where they stay for at least five seconds.  Alex knows; he’s counted. “Look, Benjamin,” Alex begins. “I know we just met but if you look at my man like that one more time I will not hesitate to punch you in your fucking face.” “Alex!” Henry yelps, withdrawing his lips from Alex’s curls. “What on God’s earth are you doing?” “Look,” He says again, his attention still focused on Benjamin. “He’s damn gorgeous. I don’t blame you for looking. I truly don’t, but he’s taken. Happily.” OR Jealous!Alex

jealous/protective alex made my entire day

don't go where i can't follow by coffeecatsme (~4k

Henry turns away, hair silvery under the moonlight. He doesn’t even bother to look at Alex, and something like anger flashes in Alex’s gut when he sees him reach for his backpack, like it’s that easy to abandon Alex, like Alex didn’t bare his heart to him just a day ago. “You could’ve fucking said goodbye,” he whispers before he can think about it; his voice is quiet through the knot in his throat, yet it echoes in the room like a gunshot, stopping Henry in his tracks. Alex wakes up at the lakehouse before Henry leaves.

angsty, but i swear it gets better

in violent symphonies by saltfics (~16k) part 2 of a series (doesn't need to be read)

“So that’ll be a fun surprise. Any chance your brother’s friends are actually… you know… any fun?” Henry halts to a stop halfway out the door, his mind screeching like a shaken record. He can feel the pull of his memory towards things he doesn’t want to think of, feels the heavy weight of it as he forces himself to focus on something else, fast so he won't acknowledge towards which twice locked door his thoughts are wandering.  Sequel to In White (but could potentially be read without it).  When Henry and Alex return to England for the christening of the new baby prince, Henry finds out his nephew's new godfather might be a terribly familiar face.  Sometimes it doesn't matter how deep you lock away a memory if it insists on showing up at your door. (But maybe you can ask for help to keep it out.)

i love henry angst :)

those markings on your skin by saltfics (~62k) incomplete

Originally a collection of one-shots based on Tumblr Prompts, but now a series of interconnected prompt-based chapters regarding a series of assassination attempts towards HRH Prince Henry, and the effect on their relationships with each other that comes with it, featuring most of the main cast. (Plus a few standalones in between).

fair warning, i haven't read it all, so i don't know everything it contains. please beware of the tags.

Home Safe by HMS_Chill (~2k)

Alex is out later than normal, and Henry is left home to worry.

as you can see, after i read God Save the Blessed American President Mom by zipadeea i got just a little obsessed. no mcd here though.

*lifelines by indomitablelove (~27k

Shaan is told by a woman from the press office. Zahra is asleep when he calls her. She calls Ellen. Liam is in the library. Oscar finds out from Twitter. Catherine hears it from her equerry when she gets the morning papers. It's Leo who tells June. --- or, the emails. From everyone else's point of view.

Lockdown by bibliosoph (~4k)

Alex and Henry have a fight before Henry leaves to go to England for a bit. While in England, there is an attempted assassination and Alex loses his mind because he can't get in touch with anyone and he left things with Henry up in the air.

don't worry, there's no mcd, just alex angst.

*Soon You'll Get Better (Because You Have To) by wafflesandkruge  (~4k)

Two nights after the shooting, Henry receives an email with a pre-recorded video from Alex. He gets one every night, and although it breaks his heart to see Alex happy and alive, he's terrified of when they'll stop coming.

i wasn't lying when i said i was obsessed. no mcd.

#rwrb fic recs #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb movie #rwrb fanfic #rwrb #red white and royal blue #royal's rwrb fic recs #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz

[theskoomacat]

i want to plug Pacific Drive real quick. i had a free day yesterday so i spent it in its entirety glued to the screen. i'm not proud. check out this game!!!!!!

it's kind of like a mix between STALKER and Firewatch (by vibe. in my head). (the Impact of Roadside Picnic on our society!) idk the official genre tags on the game but at its base it is a survival game with looting and crafting.

but. you're doing all that to spoil your beautiful princess (your maybe sentient cat that maybe will kill you eventually). you spend 80% of the time in your car, it's your defense against the elements and the Zone. the gameplay loop is fairly simple - you drive, you listen to scientists bicker over the radio, you loot, you lose half your car, you HAUL ASS, you get home.

the game offers a HUGE variety of stuff to explore, from anomalies to weather conditions to biomes to the weird flora/fauna to lore. there's SO much lore, idk who decided to write a blurb for every type of paint. huge game for people who love to collect stuff. and collecting stuff is sometimes a puzzle on its own because you need different tools (which are often interchangeable, thankfully, with varying efficiency).

and driving is very fun. i have a special condition called "Played Skyrim in formative years", so the mountains are a challenge to me, not a barrier. i enjoy the fact that driving being the focal point reshapes the world significantly (from the gamedev pov), because it is built to accommodate driving instead of just running around. the roads are the main focus of all the anomalies due to that, so frankly running around would be easier than dodging the roadblocks, but also you would fucking die. it's actually funny that i regularly find the roads by the concentration of anomalies instead of like. the road itself.

the game is pretty. the GIANT walls/lab megastructures blow my mind, they're so fucking huge. BUT. one problem i have is that there are too many nights. i have already toggled "Shorter nights" on, and still it feels like 60% of rounds take place at night (maybe i'm doing something wrong idk). yes, it is a challenge, but also i wish i could see the game?

the world itself is pretty fun. i have already mentioned STALKER, which is a very fair comparison since you're in a Zone filled with Anomalies. except this time the Zone is not a strictly "natural" occurence, which mixes this genre with the "fucked up mid-20th cent american science->military complex" genre. it is really interesting to see many different opinions on what the Zone is doing in the lore. and you can draw your own conclusions from interacting with it. it is as likely to harm you as help you, and most of the time it just Fucks with you (LIM shield ilu).

what hasn't i mentioned yet? the characters are fun, an old jaded scientist lady who's entombed herself within her creation, her ex-colleague and his bf/husband who stayed in the Zone to hunt cryptids, all lovely. the music is mostly good, but unfortunately there aren't too many tracks, so some get old really quick (i WISH i got tired of DOCTOR JUICE). but do check the radio from time to time, there are cool transmissions you can catch there.

idr if there was a difficulty selector anywhere, but you can make the game easier at will in the settings - keep inventory, restore the car when back home, etc. i wish i had known about these settings when i "died" at the EXACT moment i moved to another zone, because i both lost half my inventory AND was forced to continue my run due to that lmao. the game is Not easy tbh. the first time i was in the city with a hole in the center i couldn't climb out of there because it was pitch dark and my car was so so broken, it actually made me super frustrated. but when you learn all that stuff and actually plan for it and outfit your car with it mind, it all becomes manageable and enjoyable. it is decidedly not a horror game, but it Is unsettling at times. dense fog+bigfoot weather conditions made me SO paranoid, although i didn't actually see anything lol

so yeah, i totally recommend the game if you enjoy survival games. here are also some tips for people trying the game out for the first time, aka what I wish I had known:

In the beginning doing more runs (=bringing in more anchors) will be more benefitial than turning over every rock in every zone because a lot of good stuff is locked behind upgrades. One exception - quest zones with Perpetual Stability, you can explore and loot there for an hour if you want

Shorten the nights. It's not fun to stumble around blindly, especially not in the beginning while you're still learning

Hold T to teleport your car out of sticky situations and use Y to sort inventories. idk why they don't tell you that

PLAN. Look at the resources in each location has before launching and bring extra instruments/raw materials in accordance

Invest into better batteries and renewable energy, it gets more and more important as you progress. You don't really need to upgrade the gas tank until you've upgraded the engine, unless you spend 50% of the time trying to crawl up a mountain with summer tires (off-road tires are the shit)

Skip the crowbar, the impact hammer and scrapper can do everything it does

Dying is not super scary aside from losing progress, you just lose your inventory and maybe some attachments, but you will get an opportunity to find the wreckage of your car on a different run (orange tombstone? icon) and to loot it

#my commentary #Pacific Drive

[mindelectricdemofour]

if I want a man, then imma get a man

March 13: Solidarity / Hobbies (the hobby is mischief and lying)

Prompts: @mcyt-aro-week // ao3 Link: if I want a man, then imma get a man // Title: meghan trainor - no

It was a Thursday afternoon and Grian was experiencing shrimp emotions.

“Ugh-” The waters splashed as a book (Bane of Arthropods II) hit the surface, soon sinking under.

Grian stared at it with utter contempt.

“I mean, we've been through so much, and- I mean you treat me like I'm what- like I'm disposable!” The fishing rod was long forgotten. Grian's lips were pursed, eyes never leaving the book. “You are the worse, I hate you- no, please take me back!” 

He wasn't one for relationships, but right now, it felt like he was in one. One that ended in bitter divorce and fighting over who would care for the kids on the weekends. All because the ocean refused to give him a simple Mending tome. Really how hard could it be, to get one? Scar even got one! It was like the ocean was purposefully keeping him from it, cackling at his many failed attempts while throwing Mending at Scar and Gem. Anyone but him. 

He could imagine it now. The toxic relationship, the fighting, the begging. It felt like he could write a poem right now. Or a rock ballad.

He hadn't even noticed he was on his hands and knees. Although he was fully preparing to dive into the ocean if the next catch wasn't Mending, so he supposed the position reflected his mental state.

“Uh. What's wrong with you.”  “Ah-!” Grian jolted, eyes wide staring at Joel. The other man had seemingly materialised beside him. Joel wore a blank, uninterested stare.

“You scared the heck out of me, jesus-” Even as Grian explained, Joel still stood, waiting for him to answer the question.

What exactly was Grian doing? Did he even know? Moping and whining wouldn't get him closer to that Mending book.

He may have sat here too long. He'd lost track.

“Feuding with my ex wife,” was what came out his mouth, instead of any semblance of clear thoughts.

Joel glanced between him and ocean.

“...the sea?”

Grian nodded. Fuck it, he was dating the sea now. Instead continuing whatever weird bit they'd gotten themselves into, Joel just accepted it.

“Wow. That’s rough…” He blinked towards the ocean once more before glancing at Grian. “Well. Have fun getting mending from your… ex.” He squinted his eyes on saying ‘ex.’ “...I may have married your ex in a past life. Sorry-”

Before Grian could even process that Joel had said anything, (and what he’d said, because what the hell did that mean?) he was gone. Vanished with the wind.

But he’d left Grian with an idea.

An idea he couldn’t help but capitalise on.

//

“Fish endorsed by the Ocean. Ethically sourced,” The sign on Grian's post read. He was rather proud of it too. He adjusted it a little, thinking with a finger on his lips before adding the price.

Five diamonds seemed fair. If they were endorsed by the sea itself. They weren't ethically sourced of course, but he figured nobody would call him out on it.

“What's all this then?” He barely heard Mumbo's footsteps as the other man approached. There was barely any time to respond, as Mumbo was already reading his sign. “...Sourced by… the sea..? One would hope so… Also who is paying five diamonds for fish?”

Mumbo's eyes glanced back to Grian. Suspicious.

Grian swallowed his doubts and put on his act.

“Yeah, so I found out recently that the sea is my ex wife.” Grian hopped onto a barrel beside the sign. “I know, I know, horrible thing to forget but the sea is cold and unforgiving and I'm not that so I put it out of mind…”

Mumbo looked skeptical, (as he did most of the time Grian talked,) but hadn't interrupted him yet. Grian counted that as a win.

“...so then come to I remember the other day, our passionate love for each other, the coldness she treated me with, everything. But I'm doing this as I'm cooking up fish right-”

“I thought you didn't date?” Mumbo finally interrupted. But Grian had figured this out too.

“Yeah that's why we broke up,” he answered as flatly as possible before continuing, not letting Mumbo's mind dwell on it for more than a few seconds. 

“And I cook up the fish while I'm remembering and I look down. Because, I didn't remember that while we dated, we had kids.”

Grian lent in, eyes wide, putting his hand on Mumbo's shoulders. He had to sell this. “They were my kids Mumbo. I was cutting up my own fishy children, and oh-” He pulled away, fake sobbing. “-I can't even think about, just take them. Five diamonds for a stack. I can't be remembered for this awful deed.”

Mumbo did not look nearly as convinced as Grian had hoped. However he did look towards the price and then at Grian again. “I guess five diamonds isn't that much in the grand scheme of things.” He lent towards the barrel, Grian quickly jumping off, and sorted through the fish.

And then stopped. 

Grian grew nervous. Mumbo had thought of something.

“Do you have a permit for these..?”

…

Shit.

 He forgot to figure that part out. Grian deflated. “Uh-”

“That's what I thought.”

“I'd figured everything else out though. And you were ready to buy them because of my trials and tribulations.” It felt so upsetting to see his whole routine go to waste. And Mumbo was about to buy too! He could see the way his eyes became enraptured as Grian talked about the sea and lost love and whatever other poetic words sprung from his mouth. 

..

And then Mumbo spoke.

“We don't have to throw the whole thing away.” Grian hadn't even noticed his friend’s mind deep in thought. One hand was clasped around his chin. Eventually Mumbo looked away. “How about we adapt it a little for our wart blocks?”

...

Grian felt his face light up. He could work with that.

#mcyt aro week #one shot #the Mending arc and Wart Block arc are separated by a pretty substantial gap of time. For Wart Blocks to even be shared by the two #Grian had to offer up his Mending book. We are ignoring that here and muddying the timeline <3

[callmewrinkles3]

Helmets

Summary: Dan brings Em karting.

June 2019

"Remind me why I agreed to do this?" Em stared at Dan with wide eyes, the smell of petrol invading her senses. She was in her very own racesuit that Dan had presented to her that morning, the lavender colour she knew wasn't going to last long. Dan had his race helmet with him but she pulled on one they gave her at reception.

"Because you made a comment about how if Max could do this at four you should probably do it. I mean four is too young, and we won't talk about Max's childhood, but I figured we should try it out. And I'll go easy on you."

He'd rented the entire kart track for the two of them. Walking in she was pretty sure reception thought it was a prank, the track down for Ricciardo for two hours. But there they were.

"Left is for the brake, right is for the accelerator. Steering wheel is like a normal car. Just go and have fun." He kissed her cheek before they got their helmets on. "Go fast and be safe."

"I thought that was my line?"

Sitting into the kart was weird, so low to the ground. They were doing F1 rules, two practice sessions and then qualifying before doing twenty laps around the karting circuit. It took a couple of minutes to get her head around it but she managed to push herself through her nerves and didn't hit a single barrier on the way around. Between their practices Dan congratulated her, giving her a hug before they got back in.

She would have given Dan the pole but. he insisted that they worked for it. It didn't feel fair considering his day job but she shrugged and got back into the kart. Taking a deep breath Em did her warmup lap before pushing down on the accelerator and letting it go. She came back to a grinning Dan, helmet off as he bowed with a flourish.

"I should have brought one of my pole trophies for you."

"What?!"

"P1, Baby. P1."

She stared at the electronic timing. Dan was of course in kart 3, a lap of 31.231 there in his place. But her number 5 had a time of 31.187.

"How the fuck did I do that?"

"Seb encouraged you because you're in his number? You hit every apex I could see. It was magical. Should put you in a karting race."

"Not happening. I have enough anxiety watching you get in your car."

She stared at the screen, taking a photo of it for posterity before they got into the karts to go back out. She'd beaten a formula one driver in a kart. That felt good.

The race was fun, even though Dan took off ahead of her from lap one. She didn't care about it and focused on hitting the corners right and enjoying every single moment of it. She could see how Dan enjoyed driving like this. Her mind was blissfully blank as she focused on the track.

Coming into the pits at the end she was grinning, Dan helping her out of the kart as adrenaline flowed through her.

"You could have been a driver," Dan said when her helmet came off.

"No thanks. I think I'm better if I don't get in a kart. I'm a good support person though."

"So you'll let any future kids get in one?"

"I mean not before they're in school, but if they want to I can't really say no. Not when so much of my life has revolved around it."

"True."

They did the podium ceremony, Dan lifting the flimsy trophy above his head as Em cheered for him. They left grinning to go for food, Dan's question about future kids ringing around Em's head.

#call it what you want fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #ciwyw drabble

[iinryer]

If you could come up with the storylines for each Lone Star character (not Owen) for the next season, what would they be?

OH THIS IS A GOOD ONE… (not owen) made me laugh thank you. this didn’t end up being Quite what you asked but here are my hopes for s5!:

marjan is easy: comphet realization to lesbian arc. I don’t even need them to give her a gf i just want them to Address The Closeted Lesbianism they’ve been handing me over the past four seasons. i want salim to come back (in person or in conversation) for the rule of threes and have it force her to reckon with a lot of assumptions she had about herself. im on my hands and knees about it. I’ve been rewatching with a friend recently and i fucking forgot that they have her say a line about how her favorite place to hide as a kid was the closet. remember those new bts photos where she’s basically wearing the lesbian flag as a headscarf. lone star writers room i am IN YOUR WALLS. also i want to meet her sister. i need someone to call her mouse

nancy my beloved… honestly i just really want a nancy begins episode!! i want to know why she became a paramedic, i want to know about her relationship with her sister and if there’s any particular reason it was a soft spot for her during the DNR episode… I don’t have any particular ideas for specific i just want to know more about her!!! actually I’d love her to have to confront Tim’s death a little more directly. they made that whole thing about Owen which is fucking crazy to me, I’d love for the next time TK gets hurt (lol) for it to be something that dredges that up for her.

grace… miss grace i want to see you angry again. no plot line in mind i just like it when she’s pretending she doesn’t get angry or stubborn, she is such a fascinating character study. i love when she’s a contradiction. she and carlos teaming up was one of my favorite things abt s3, i would be so jazzed to see more things of that flavor.

tommy. hm… I don’t think I have any particular storylines for her in mind but I want more of her and grace and judd together because they are so delightful and lovely and best friends. OH ACTUALLY. I want something with tommy and charlie. this baby that was named in honor of the late love of her life. o don’t know what that story would be but there’s something there for sure…

carlos is the same as nancy tbh, I want a real full carlos begins! I want to meet his sisters! I want to see more of the mess that was growing up gay and feeling out of place and trying to be what your dad would want even though he thinks you’re too soft for it. why did he do it anyways! I also would love to see him and his mom being more involved, partially because obviously they had a horrible loss and trauma and she saw it happen but also because I love andrea:) she’s everything 2 me

judd I have been waiting for them to make you captain since SEASON THREE!! i want owen to retire and i want them to expand on the tension we got for the period he was captain!! i want to see how the dynamic changes and how his past issues come up when he’s in charge For Good. i want to see him get emotional about it and i want him to be captain while wyatt is his probie if they put him back on the firefighter track after his recovery :) bc that would be fun conflict and i think everything they did with owen (traumatically lost whole crew, son on your team) would be 100x better with judd

mateo is also a difficult one for specifics. I feel like they’re relatively fair with him? even with the low screentime all the secondary characters are relegated to. I’d be interested in seeing more fallout about his cousin, and I LOVED what they did with him and captain tatum so anything of that flavor of earnestness from him is always so good. maybe he and tatum will be buddies off the clock :)

tk getting hurt in increasingly absurd ways is always a classic that I look forward to them playing into lol

misc: i want to see more big brother wyatt with charlie getting a little older, i want less owen solo-plotlines, more ghost/memory gwyn i love her, carlos with his curls, the vega twins being involved in something maybe? that would be fun and stressful gjfhdhf

EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT PAUL. I ABANDONED MY BOY. ok paul deserves literally any kind of robust plotline. Paul begins for starters, but also so much of his trans plotlines feel a little fumbled. I want a really earnest well done episode that isn’t necessarily About him being trans, but his transness is a factor and it’s handled in a really genuinely good and relatable way. they OWE HIM AND US THAT!! i also would love to see more of the gay kids being in gay spaces :)

[housesitting & snowed in send enrichment to my enclosure]

#iinryer talk #mailbox #sorry for no tk i love the character but im still trying to reconcile his actor’s stance these past few months lol

[voxofthevoid]

Wait I— WHAT— 500k+ words for JJK? Alone? Oh my god. I’m one of your new readers, and I’m blown away by not only your word count but the wRITING LOGS?? How?? Do you keep track of your WIPs?? Do you write consistently, period?? Do you have any advice for someone who can barely squeak out a paragraph to describe a vision in their brain?? Please bless me with your skills, Vox-sensei 😭🙏

Welcome to my madness 🤣❤️

Okay, in all fairness, I'm usually not this unhinged productive. Last year, for instance, my total word count was only around 250k (iirc). I'm sure I wrote more than that from 2018 to 2020, but my logs from those are divided by fics/chapters or weekly.

... I've, uh, tried a lot of shit over the years.

Which is an important point! I've been posting to ao3 for nearly a decade now (not consistently, but I don't think I was away for more than a year or two), and I've been writing in some capacity for around 15–17 years now. There's been a lot of trial and error over the years, plus changing life circumstances leading to varying energy levels and writing time. The main factor is inspiration; if it's there, I'll write a lot, but if not, I'll be a potato.

So with all that in mind!

Logs

I do keep track of both my word count and my WIPs. I've got color-coded docs and spreadsheets even because I'm a fucking nerd. I've got pictures of it floating somewhere on this blog, but my fic folders tend to be nested, numbered little monstrosities.

WIPs

I call them WIPs sometimes because they're extensively detailed outlines mostly, but the more accurate term is ideas/plot bunniesdemons. I don't work on more than one story at a time. Typically, I start something and write it in narrative order until it's done. There are exceptions—my current fic was started in a post-236 frenzy, and I set aside the PWP I was working on for it. But usually, I only actively write one story at a time while everything else gets developed/outlined as inspiration strikes.

Consistency

You could say I write consistently, yeah! I don't do it every day because I take breaks whenever I finish a chapter (and of course, life throws curve balls sometimes), but typically, I write around 22–25 days a month. I set aside a few hours for it. Average daily word count also varies, but these days, it's 1.5–3k. When I'm really in the zone, it can reach 5–6k.

I'm a hobbyist writer with no aspirations of writing professionally, so my approach to the whole thing has been to wing it and see where it takes me. So I haven't really done anything with the concrete goal of improving. The best (and only) advice I have is very boring and cliche though: read and write.

Read widely if you can and narrow in on the kind of style and genre you like. Note down passages or turns of phrase that struck you and figure out why. You'll absorb a lot automatically, but I've heard people recommend emulating styles on purpose as a writing exercise.

Mainly though, the best and easiest way to improve is to keep writing. Technical rules can be learned pretty easily, especially with how many resources are available online now. Field/subject-specific reference materials are also abundant. But developing your own style and improving the flow of your prose are things that need practice. And it never really stops, especially because your writing will continuously evolve in more ways than one.

This got way longer than I intended. Oops? Thanks for asking though, anon. I did have fun replying!

#i love my anons #anon #I'm typing this while very sleepy so excuse any errors

[katmaatui]

omg hal for this ask game AND the other ask game!!!

You didn't give me a number so I may have done all of the second one? So read more. Tw for suicide attempt mention under the first ask game, favorite moment (its not hal)

First Ask Game

First impression

I actually have a screenshot of me, last january, going I think Hal would be cool but I've never read anything with him in it. Uhhh I did use to think he's scared of the bats which eww.

Impression now

How can I put him down to a single sentence? A single paragraph? He's literally everything to me. He's so complex. He's insecure, he's suicidal as hell. He's flawed, he hates himself and he makes that other people's problem, he takes so much onto himself, he wants to be the shinning knight of the stories, he's inspired by old tales of knights and fair damsels and good and bad and black and white. He thinks himself as right and those who disagree with him as wrong and i just love him.

Favorite moment

It's like telling me to pick a favorite child. You're talking to someone who has a 200 issue long hal rec list, but I want to do a more neglected moment beyond the popular issues like emerald twilight and gl 0.

I would have to say Spectre #23, I love the dynamic between Sinestro and Hal there and the way it harkens back to older comics and how it can make later comics make so much sense???? Hal always reaching out to Sinestro, despite Sinestro not wanting his help. It's such a good way of showing Hal's character of reaching out to those he once trusted even once they betrayed his trust!

Another favorite of mine is action comics #615? I want to say. It's after the Hal gains his ability to feel fear back arc, but only directly. He's barely able to fly he's so unused to feeling fear, but he has to. He has to because there's someone on a ledge about to jump, and he's able to work through his fear just because he wants to help someone else, and that's who Hal Jordan is to me. Someone who deeply, deeply wants to help others, even at the expense of himself.

Idea for a story

Hmmm, I want to do one I haven't talked about here so none of my fifteen million different Parallax wips.

I haven't really thought it out much beyond oooh wouldn't it be fucked up if this the guardians did this, but we know from silver age comics that the guardians can see the future, and we know from all comics that the guardians are controlling bastards, so what if in an attempt to be even more controlling than usual, the guardians kinda um kidnapped younger gls, once whatever that happened to put them on their track had happened.

The original idea focuses mostly on Hal and John years and years afterwards, trying to rebuild the lives taken from them. They don't really remember their names from before, they're trying to find their family, trying to find out who they would be if they weren't green lanterns, if the guardians hadn't taken them, and the scene floating in my mind is Hal, Jack, and Jim reuniting. Hal's been missing since he was 10 years old, and none of them know how to react.

Also I want a fic where Hal and Jess compare their experiences with possession but I don't want to write it myself so I'm stuck there.

Unpopular opinion

oh god so I'm like blocked by like half of Hal blogs for some reason???? I honestly don't really know why, it's like half of them are my mutuals and half have me blocked :(.

okay my biggest one in the circles I'm in is that I feel like the parallax recon could be done well. Geoff was a little coward with it, but if tweaked slightly, relying on the amount of inconsistencies even within issues that Geoff wrote, let alone the amount of different writers tackling it, it could be fixed. (Like both Hal and the space bug say they don't know what stuff Hal did versus the space bug, and Hal says he murdered the green lantern corps before becoming parallax multiple times).

Also I have fun with Hal and pals. It's not the best comic (especially at the beginning with Soranik) but the last 20 or so issues are enjoyable and I've read everything 30 on multiple times.

Favorite relationship

See the favorite child comment above. Okay, so my top three romantic relationships are Hal and Carol, Hal and Sinestro, and Hal and Ollie. I discussed Halcarol in the carol post so I'll focus on the other two. Hal and Sinestro...Hal and Sinestro like actually make me fucking insane. Its the homoeroticism of killing someone while calling them your best friend, your best enemy. It's about being so similar that you hate and love someone at the same time, its about wanting them by your side, no matter the cost, but it can never truly work, they'll never truly be on the same side again. But, but, but, the tragedy of all this is that they'll always be friends, that they're the same underneath the skin (cries).

Hal and Ollie are opposites who want the same thing, in comparison to hal and sinestro who are very similar but want different things. Halollie to me is about nostalgia and rose tinted glasses and a past you can't go back to, a truck you pulled out of the river but its never the same, they're not the same. Plus they also have the whole murdering each other and resurrection thing going on and I have well demonstrated my love for a good murdering each other story.

Platonically? oh god. I love Hal and Kilowog and then i love Hal and John. Hal and Kilowog are so...like they also have the murdering thing going on. Like issue 40 of gl 2011???? Its complete insanity. The devotion the two of them have towards the green lantern corps??? also the scene in gls where Hal goes I would have done the same for Kilowog to Simon who had let jess go free??? I love the little mentions like that.

Hal and John are so interesting because Hal is an absolute shit friend and sector partner to John and John says that explicitly in story and still forgives Hal anyways, still says he loves him, still says they're best friends. Like my brain is mostly spitting out !!!!!!! for them but its a very excited !!!!!.

Favorite headcanon

Undiagnosed adhd Hal for the win! Like he suffers for it too, his relationship with his dad shows a lot of his dad doesn't understand him and doesn't want to. He can't focus, he can't stay still, he can't keep his feet on the ground and his head out of the clouds. It's just very much something I project on him based on canon evidence.

Second ask game. You didn't send me a number so I did all of them.

a fun headcanon

Okay I actually did this last because I have a lot of sad headcanons? But um, I really like the idea of Hal and John having a lot of inside jokes. They will reference random things during jl meetings and sometimes they're true sometimes they're not. The justice league sure doesn't know.

a sad headcanon

His father's jacket was destroyed in Coast City along with all of his stuff. The one he has now is one made out of his memories, which is why its different than before post emerald twilight.

Also I have a headcanon where he gets invited to do a speech at the 10 year anniversary of Coast City's destruction. He cries during it.

a headcanon that canon doesn't disprove

He's using his ring to cover up his gray streaks. They never really went away, Parallax wouldn't let him go that freely, but he covers them up because he's too scared to see everyone else's reaction.

a headcanon to spite canon, specifically

I don't do a lot of headcanons to spite canon? Like I genuinely think that canon is fun and something we should work with. The closest I got is my joke that current gl hal is the ring suppressing his emotions again because that ain't my hal.

a headcanon that's all but canon, and that's a hill I will die on

See the undiagnosed adhd headcanon above. Also the fact that he has some sort of genderfuckery going on, I saw your she/he pronouns spectre hal, I know what you are <3.

a headcanon about their family

I have so many. oh god one of the biggest I would say would be that Jack and Hal were specifically pitted against each other. We see this sometimes, with in a few flashbacks Martin saying why aren't you more like Jack, but I would like to see more of it. Hal hates Jack because he was the perfect one and then he went to college and Hal and Jim were left behind in the suffocating house.

In my head, Jim was very young when Martin died and does not remember him, and Jack was almost in college already and he left, leaving Hal to really baby Jim. He saw Jim as his responsibility, his little brother to protect, which is why he still calls him his kid brother, even when Jim has two kids of his own.

Also Jim really looks up to Hal which is basically canon. I mean he counts down the hours in between Hal leaving and returning and his security password is Hal's birthday.

a pre-canon headcanon

He and Jim used to go to baseball games together, sneaking into the coast city angels baseball field. He always thinks of Jim when making his baseball construct.

a post-canon headcanon

hmmmm. My biggest one is that due to the amount of ridiculous bullshit that he dies and comes back from, he's functionally immortal. He physically can't die. He's stuck here forever, even after all those he loves are dead. He becomes a legend, the man without fear, the man he never wanted to be. He wanders out in space, only coming back when he's needed, which these days are few and far in between. Eventually the legends morph to him never having existed, a story made up and embellished over all the years. He just wants to sleep.

a missing scene that definitely happened

Okay so something had to happen in between Spectre and gl rebirth that made hal go from going I don't deserve to be human to I have to have my life back and geoff does not show it. I usually have something happen with Helen that makes Hal have to erase both of their memories, which is why she isn't there in gl rebirth, and pushes Parallax, the entity into being.

I recognize canon has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it (+ what should have happened)

The fucking Hal is younger than Roy post resurrection thing. Literal hatred in my heart, that man is in his 50s and everytime dc makes him younger he gains a year.

something [other character] believes about them that isn't true

This is basically canon but specifically Guy and Ollie most believe that he wasn't in control during Parallax. Hal himself "tries to forget" who was in control and that interests me so much.

something they believe about [other character] that isn't true

He genuinely believes that the other founding jlers, especially Superman doesn't think much of him. He projects his own insecurities onto them, while they do think he's capable, they don't think he's going to go evil again.

their happiest memory

This is basically canon, but to me the memory he's most nostalgic for is being on the road with Ollie, just the two of them. That's what he thinks of when he thinks of home, and it'll never return again.

their worst memory

People like to say its his father's death, but he barely remembers that these days. It's not even coming back from space and learning what happened to Coast. No, it's his older brother looking at him and snarling that what happened was his fault, that he murdered their mother by the crime of existing.

a secret

oh uh. Well, I do really love some variation that Parallax happened later then people think and that Hal had some hand in parallax being unleashed, so something about that.

favorite canon relationship

Answered above.

favorite fanon relationship

He doesn't really have any fanon relationships? Like besides bruce but I can't stand fanon's version of that. Ummmm, fanon makes his and barry's relationship a little less boring but that's not hard to do because a sock is more interesting than them.

Oh wait! Okay my fanon version of Hal and Arisia (not romantic). I basically jumble up all the different versions and recons and plus put in some of my own extraplations to make a good friendship there. Arisia looks up to Hal and holds him to high standards but she doesn't hero worship. She's still holding a grudge for the beating up Kilowog plot.

favorite should have been canon relationship

Seeing this as romantic so sinhal. I mean if one of them was female they would have been mainline canon years ago. Morrison is the only dc writer who gets me (made sinhal canon in an alternative universe and I'm eternally grateful for that). They're such good parallels and if they got together??? Insanity

[blank] / dealer's choice

When in space and lonely, Hal will make a construct of those he loves and just talk to them, and then cry.

#Ask Reply #kyleraynered #Hal Jordan

[bismuthupmy]

Nothing Hurts | Leon x Luis RE4

Chapter 5 | 3.2k

The story of tragic righteousness where nobody is hurt and everything is perfect. Except nothing is perfect in hell.

A re-imagining of the events of the Resident Evil 4 remake where Luis and Leon get the ending they deserved.

——————————————————————————————————

I had so much fun with this chapter this time

Ch.1

——————————————————————————————————

The rain picked up, battering the three of their heads as they walked up the track. Ashley was shivering, huddled up close behind Leon for at least a little warmth, Luis lagging behind the two blondes. Leon had his hands cupped next to his ears trying to listen to whatever the funny lady in his earpiece was saying. 

Luis kicked rocks as he wandered along. An uncomfortable weight sat in the pit of his stomach as he watched the two Americans in front of him. Luis was coming to realise that they were here because of the things that he had allowed Los Iluminados to achieve and he wasn’t liking it one bit. Especially since one of them was so charming…

He had been trying to listen in to whatever conversation was going on between Leon and funny lady but he soon realised that he was ever going to hear anything from the other line when it was directly in Leon’s ear. The conversation wasn’t anything complicated anyway.

 “Negative. Too dangerous,” Leon was saying. “We’re gonna get out of here and find someplace safe.”

Funny lady said something back and Leon continued, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll swim home if we have to. Condor One out.”

Luis chuckled from behind.

“Good luck with that, hero boy. Water’s freezing this time of  year.”

Leon scoffed and Luis smirked.

“A little cold is nothing after fighting off fucking zombies.”

“Oh they’re not zombies, amigo.”

Luis bit down another laugh as Leon turned to look at him with that confused look he always seemed to have. He seemed to always be in a state of pure perplexion and it was almost funny given the situation.

“They’re not zombies. They’re… let's say, mind-controlled by worms. By the plagas. They stay dead when you shoot them enough times, no?”

Leon scrunched up his nose and muttered, “Basically zombies then.”

Luis lifted a hand over his eyes to stop the steady battering of the rain against his face so he could actually see where they were going. The longer Luis sat in silence the more that pit in his stomach expanded.

“If you were to turn into a ganado, Ashley,” Luis spoke up thinking back to Ashley’s worries earlier, catching the girl's attention. “I think you’d turn out to be the most pleasant of them.”

He saw the odd glance Leon threw him over his shoulder but what followed the “uh, thanks” Ashley replied with was a much better distraction. 

“What’s a… ganado?” Ashley turned around to walk backwards. That was surprising though he figured that they really wouldn’t know any technical names for the cult’s abominations. At the same time he couldn't help but think he said too much. Luis picked up the pace to walk beside the group so Ashley didn’t trip over something behind her. 

“Ganado. The term for those people back in the village apparently. Picked it up in a few notes.”

Nice save Luis. Leon looked back at him again, “Ganados? Like cattle?”

“Oh? ¿Hablar español, eh?” Luis gave him a mock astonished look to which Leon rolled his eyes. He was turning out to be much more interesting than Luis had originally thought.

“Not much,” Leon admitted. “Are they all just ganados? Like any others. Like… dog… breeds.”

Luis snorted. A weird way to put it.

“I guess. You got the guys who wear the cow carcasses we saw. They’re called brutes. I bet you've run into doctor Salvador if those burn marks on your arms have anything to do with it. I've had my fair share of encounters. The only guy with a proper name too, huh?”

Leon looked at him with another look that demanded an explanation.

“Chainsaw.”

Leon mouthed an “oh” and turned away from Luis again. Luis watched as he glanced over  his arms  as if just noticing the scratches that covered him. Ashley hummed beside him in thought.

“Why have they got names, though? If they’re all mind controlled by worms, the plagas, they can’t name themselves.”

Luis held back a grimace. He definitely said too much. 

“Well there’s some higher ups. A bitch to get away from but they’re lurking around. Like the village chief,” Leon shuddered in front of him. “I guess he likes to classify his residents.”

Ashley nodded in understanding and Luis let himself relax. They had no more questions about the matter which was better for Luis so he didn’t accidentally spill all his secrets. This conversation quickly did the opposite of appeasing the stirring pit in his stomach to his dismay. Oh well, he’d decided to help them as much as he could so that’ll have to do.

They approached shelter and fire up ahead which was very welcome from the cold rain behind them. A harsh laugh from beside them scared the shit out of him.

“Hello there, stranger!”

Luis jumped out of his skin a foot in the air which made both Ashley and the mysterious man giggle at him, much to his embarrassment. Leon just approached the man like he knew him which made Luis feel a bit more calm.

“This is the merchant, Luis. No need to become one with the roof.”

Luis scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m perfectly fine here on the ground, don't worry.”

Leon pulled various trinkets and gems from his pockets and handed them to the merchant. In return he was given an astonishingly small amount of pesetas for those items. He was definitely getting scammed, though after his teasing, Luis didn’t feel like helping him out. Call him petty.

He tapped his foot watching the exchange before realising they were going to be here for a while so he might as well take a break. Ashley had jumped up on top of  a small table, swinging her legs leisurely. He couldn’t help but feel sympathetic  toward the girl. The amount of running she'd been doing must be catching up on her. 

Luis needed some air. Maybe joining these two wasn't a good idea if he was going to get attached. He quickly announced that he was going to go take a piss to which Leon hummed in acknowledgment and Ashley called out to him to not drown with a smirk. Luis left the shelter  with a wave over his shoulder. The rain had fortunately died down to a trickle for the moment.

He wandered back up the path they had just taken, getting out of hearing range of the rest of the group and then until he couldn't see the firelight behind him. He pulled out his lighter and flipped it around his fingers, settling his riled up nerves.

A flash of red caught his eye and he turned to look up at the rocks beside the path. At the top of the ledge stood a woman clad in a red dress which hugged her figure quite beautifully if Luis were to be judging. Ada Wong? A woman and Asian, checked out.

“Hey,” Luis smirked up at her as she stared down harshly at him. Her gaze made his skin crawl. “Get a smoke?”

“I do,” the woman, Ada confirmed now, called down to him. “The kind you like. Now where’s the amber?”

Straight to the point. Fair enough, it was what he was here for.

“Unfortunately, it’s not on me  at the moment,” Luis smiled sheepishly though he couldn't back down from the Ada otherwise he felt like she’d eat him alive. “And you really should be telling me what a good job  I did.”

He stepped closer to the rock ledge, but far enough where he didn’t have to crane his neck too much, “Busted my ass and managed to hide it right before I got caught. Which is why I am still alive.”

He spread his arms out in a half bow, concealing his irritation at the woman but still insinuating that she was the cause of his struggles with survival in the village and not his own stupid actions. Ada crouched down to look at him closer, her height over him asserting dominance, a bored expression plastered on her face.

“The deal was we get you out of here when you deliver the amber. No amber, no protection, Luis.”

Luis just shrugged and chuckled, “Such a stickler for details, huh Ada? Ok then, I’ll go get it now, how about that?”

He began to step back away from the rock face and back towards the group at the shelter. Ada frowned from her perch, which Luis thought was the most expressive he’d seen her in this exchange, and stood back up again. Without even a wave she was gone, disappearing over the ledge as she stalked away. 

“And I do have something else I need to get too,” he whispered to himself, looking back in the direction of the Americans.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Leon sat against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed. Ashley was taking a break on the table next to him, idly chatting with the merchant. Luis had left a couple of minutes ago and he had finished reloading and stocking up his supplies. Little else to do now other than wallow in his thoughts. Perfect.

So Luis, Umbrella scientist, caught up in another zombie apocalypse. There was something that he wasn't telling them and Leon was hard pressed on trusting him. Though he was also their only hope of getting out of this god forsaken village without becoming a mindless, rotting pawn so they really had no choice. 

The lack of control he had over the situation was making him ansty. There was a goddamn parasite growing inside him and Ashley and if they didn’t get rid of it in time they were going to succumb to a hive mind of lunatics. This mission had quickly gotten much more complicated than a simple grab and go. The whole situation was fucked.

A moment later, Luis returned and they could finally move on. Leon stood up and caught Ashley in the corner of his eye stumbling off the table. He turned to the girl.

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a sheepish smile. “Just a little tired and sore but I’ll be ok.”

She was a trooper for sure.

“Alright. Let’s head out.”

Luis squawked behind him as he went back into mission mode.

“Not going to ask about me? Terrible knight only protecting the princess, you’re supposed to protect the rest of the kingdom too, you know?”

“You’re standing so you’re fine.”

He smirked as he heard Luis huff. Ashley giggled beside him as they walked back through the rain and followed the only path forward Leon could only hope that there was a safe spot to stay while they waited for the weather to clear and since the merchant didn’t have any food on hand his hideouts weren’t an option. He’s suddenly missing the quick breakfast takeaway he had on the way to Valdelobos but then he’s quickly reminded of the police officers who had unfortunately perished just hours earlier and his appetite is squashed.

The journey from the merchant's place and about five hundred metres further up was eventless. Luis gave up the incessant chatter that he had earlier, much to Leon’s mercy, and Ashley just seemed to be admiring the scenery in this downtime.

The gate up ahead did little to muffle the chatter of the ganados behind it so Leon made sure everyone was prepared. Luis readied his weapon beside him and Ashley stayed behind him as he ordered. He pushed open the doors and surveyed the area. There were wooden panels directly in front of them hiding them from view of  the couple of ganados behind them illuminated by their torches. Up on higher levels were others with crossbows at the ready which Leon felt like he could easily take out first.

Before any sniping, however, Leon decided that he needed to get rid of the closest ganados so they didn’t alert anyone else nearby. He signalled to Ashley and Luis to sit back for a minute while he snuck up behind the ganados and stealth killed them. Once the immediate area was clear he pulled out his rifle. The ganados with crossbows were downed and the group could move forward. Behind him, Leon heard a breathy whistle from Luis, appreciating his shots without drawing attention to them, which Leon promptly ignored. 

They were doing just fine until Leon peeked around a corner and a large hammer hurtled towards his face. There’s no other way to be greeted by the bull men apparently. Or brutes, as Luis called them.

‘Spread out!” Leon jumped back, sweeping his arm out behind him to signal to Ashley and Luis. The brute dislodged its hammer from the wall and stalked towards them. It wasn’t alone which was annoying, another couple of ganados following up behind with hatchets in hand. Leon watched Luis duck behind the brute to go for the extras so he didn’t have to worry about them thankfully.

He lifted his handgun and shot a few rounds into the monster's head, vaguely aware of the scuffling of Ashley beside him a few metres away. Leon swerved and dodged several swings, pulling out his shotgun and spraying in the brutes general direction while trying to right his balance. 

Soon he ran out of shotgun shells and resorted to running around the area in circles to avoid being within the hammer’s radius. It was really helpful when Leon’s foot caught on a rock and he spent precious seconds trying to regain balance and not be sent sprawling to the floor. Those seconds put him within hammering range.

The bull carcass was soaked with blood but somehow the brute kept approaching, beginning to jog while it lifted its hammer and, to Leon’s horror, started twirling like a shitty ballerina.

The hammer whirled round and round until it got just within range of Leon, the blond ducking underneath the swing, and the brute was out of energy. He was about to stand up to quickly lock a shot into it while it was down and panting but he didn’t get the chance to be upright for long.

“Duck!”

Leon did and within a split second the familiar whizz of a bullet passed over the top of his head. He felt a hand on his arm then as he was yanked out of the way of the collapsing brute. Dead. 

He righted himself, panting from the exertion and turned to Luis who had his gun held out in front of him at the same height that had been the back of the brute’s head. Luis let go of  his arm slowly and put away his gun, looking down at the brute, gesturing at it with his other hand as if  he wanted to say something.

“They’re like those… uh, what do you call them?” He crossed his arm and cocked a hip in thought, now looking at Leon for an answer. Leon had no idea what the fuck he was asking. Luis flailed his arms about for a second before crossing them again.

 “You know those people who dress up as, like, movie characters and stuff?”

Ashley poked her head out from a nearby shed, “Cosplayers?”

“Yes!” Luis snapped his fingers in Ashley's direction, jumping excitedly. “They’re like sick cow cosplayers!”

Leon, not expecting to have just come out of a near death experience to Luis excitement over cosplay, snorted very unattractively. He tried to play it off and shook his head in disbelief as Ashley cackled from where she was still tucked away in her hiding spot. 

“You’re insane,” Leon groaned as Luis began to giggle at his own joke and now at a hysterical Ashley in the dirt. It wasn’t funny but it somehow had the president's daughter rolling in the mud. And it wasn’t even funny!

“They’re cosplaying!” Ashley wheezed. “Cow cosplays!”

“Guys.”

“Seems like they've really taken to the bit too,” Luis encouraged her.

“Guys, we need to go.”

“THEY’RE FURRIES!”

Leon just rubbed a hand down his face and huffed a laugh despite himself. Now Luis was doubled over too. Leon had only some idea of what furries were and he didn’t want to ask for the rest. This was ridiculous. 

Ashleys hysterical laughter was cut short by a rather nasty sounding cough which he swore he could feel in his own chest suddenly. She sputtered, more blood coming up and onto her hand. She seemed fine other than that since she was calm enough about it to screw her face up in disgust. 

“You ok?” Leon stepped closer  to her, hand outstretched for her to take. Ashley wiped her hand on her shorts and took his hand and he helped her stand up. 

“Yeah,” she dusted herself off, giving him a reassuring smile. “Killed the vibe though.”

Luis chuckled beside them, “No matter as long as you’re alright. I haven’t laughed like that in years.”

“Hm. It feels less scary when you think of these monsters as cosplayers though.”

Ashley and Luis snickered to themselves and Leon just decided to leave. He shook his head and started off back on the path knowing the other two will catch up in a second. Ashley was right in some sort of way. Keeping things light about the situation was probably for the best if they were going to get out of this without lifelong trauma but only time will tell. A laugh was good for them.

Soon enough he did hear another pair of footsteps behind him. 

“Ugh,” Ashley sniffled. “I’m definitely going to catch a cold.”

“Ashley, you’ve got a worm growing inside you,” Leon countered with an amused huff. 

“Sure but so far my worm hasn’t been mean to me yet. A cold definitely wouldn’t hold back on that matter.”

Leon just shrugged but his soft smile told Ashley that he wasn't confronting her. That laughing fit definitely had settled some of her nerves since she was biting into the  banter. It’s settled then, he’d keep Luis around a little longer.

It was quiet between them again until Luis walked into a storeroom off to the side and was promptly grabbed by a stray man which both scared the shit out of the three of them but ended up being the cause of another string giggling further down the line. One thing was for certain now though: Luis yelps like a girl. 

“Luis?” Ashley broke the next bout of silence. “If you were to cosplay anyone who would it be?”

Here we go again.

The man in question hummed in thought.

“I don't know. Maybe I’d cosplay as a super cool agent,” he said in a tone to get a rise out of Leon. He didn’t turn around and give Luis that reaction and if Luis shot him a smug look, Leon didn’t see it. “I’d probably be a knight.”

“Like in medieval times? With all the armour?” Ashley continued. “That’d be so cool. I’d probably cosplay as Luna from Harry Potter. She’s pretty cool. How about you Leon?”

“I’d cosplay as a worm.”

Ashley snorted this time and gave into another fit of giggles which made Leon smile as he continued to walk down the rubble path.

Luis sighed in amusement behind him, “I think you’d make a very handsome worm.”

“Thank you.”

Contrasting against their light atmosphere, they began to approach another one of those heavy wooden gates. Leon dreaded what they’d find on the other side.

——————————————————————————————————

I think the story is going to slow down a bit from here if this chapter is any evidence lmao

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#leon kennedy #luis serra #ashley graham #leon x luis #reimagined #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #angst #romance #slow burn #gayyyy #fanfic #fanfiction #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #resident evil #serrenedy

[nakanotamu]

The read more is just bc I'm thinking out loud about wrestling stuff that's been on my mind/bothering me and I figure this might end up being long edit nvm it ended being about the usual depression stuff too lol

I think part of my issue as far as burnout is that I can't figure out where the line is supposed to be for work that you want to be done that no one else will do vs when you do not want to do the work any more. Like I do a lot of stats tracking for wrestling shows that I've done for a while now purely bc I had a lot of fun doing it and found it interesting. But I've sort of reached a point with it where I don't really think I'm learning anything particularly new or interesting with it but I realized it is taking a fair bit of time, so while it's hard to break the habit of doing it for every show it makes sense to drop it at this point, or at least cut back.

Then there's the stuff I actually worked on, like translations primarily and stuff like that. I'm behind back to stuff that happened in May, and I'd been thinking of it as a backlog, but just deciding to not do any of it does have an appeal. If it sucks hit da bricks. I know I have no real obligation here, but I don't know, thinking about totally dropping this stuff does hurt. On the one hand, I was genuinely very desperate to try and find some way to turn some part of this into actual paid work, to the point where I did way too much of it on top of my actual job and life and the stuff I wish I did have the option of just dropping and ended up having a pretty bad breakdown. So just not working on it at all any more is depressing, an acceptance that I failed and I'm still stuck exactly where I was a little over two years ago and nothing has changed at all. Maybe even worse bc when I started I was still working from home.

On the other hand I also feel bad leaving people who genuinely enjoyed my work out in the cold. I met some really great people thanks to it and had some really good conversations and stuff. But I also kind of hated the twitter clout because it's a lot of nice words that doesn't actually count for anything or do anything, and on top of that for every person who really seemed to get where I was coming from it felt like there were 5 more who claimed to appreciate my work who didn't get it at all. And that wears me down probably more than it should.

I'm a big believer that in any sort of work like that you shouldn't do it for an audience you may or may not even have or keep, you should do it because you want to do it and if people show up for it then that's on them. But I don't really know how to put it aside when it is still something I want to do but I don't know if I can. Even just things like reading comments on my own or watching shows feel like such an unbelievable timesink and I don't know if I have the energy or the mental health to keep it up even for myself. But I don't want to give these things up either. So I'm just. Stuck suffering in both directions.

And then on top of that there's all the feelings of disconnect and isolation that I've been struggling with for quite a while now. I mean like beyond the general ones every day like the wrestling specific ones. Reading and translating comments and press conferences and everything began as a way to feel closer, I think, to the wrestling I love so much. I think part of what fucked me up so badly when Unagi left was that it made clear how much that had not happened. Sure you can see the signs of her farewell tour in hindsight, but at the time I hadn't seen it coming in the slightest. No matter how well I understood these characters, no matter how much, even correct, insight I had into every word choice they made and every emotional beat of every story they told, I still don't know them, I'm not a part of this.

And beyond that, would I even want a part of it if I could have one? If I had some sort of magic golden opportunity to be part of the joshi scene right now, would I even want to see behind the curtain? What if I really am just a delusional himejoshi and it ruins everything I love about it? Would there even be a space for me there, what if I were just rejected? None of which matters because I still have no connection to it in the slightest, I've never even been to Japan and my current savings are supposed to be for computer upgrades so who the fuck knows when even that much might be an option.

I just. I feel so lost, and stuck. I don't know what to drop and what to keep working on but I don't know how to keep working on any of it in the first place. I can barely even make it through a single match without getting endlessly distracted these days, even when I WANT to watch it, even when I'm actively enjoying it! I want to drop everything in my entire life except for this but this also takes energy I don't have and feels like the only thing I actually can drop. This thing I love so much and have no attachment to whatsoever, that might not even want me if that was an option to begin with. I need to change something about my habits or my workflow or my life or something, anything, and I can't. I can't do any of it

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 62: Scars

TWs in the tags

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Master stopped Puppy from making breakfast this morning. “We’re not going to eat today.” She said.

Puppy hoped that the ‘we’ doesn’t include Kitty, but it did. The two of them play the Game of Life to get their mind off the hunger.

“Is it bad that I wish Bunny were here?” Kitty asks softly. “Obviously I don’t want him to suffer, but I miss him.”

Puppy shrugs. She’s long past wondering what wishes are ‘bad.’

“I hope he’s okay. It would suck if after all this he doesn’t even get some happy memories. I hope it’s worth it.”

They both know it won’t be, but they can hope.

That night, Jane asks the both of them a long series of questions about their emotional and physical state, and writes down the answers.

“My therapist wants me to see how eating regularly will impact my mood. But first I want to collect data on how not eating impacts my mood, and compare it to how not eating impacts mortals’ moods. Obviously a sample size of two isn’t great, but this is just for fun. I’ve done experiments like this before, anyway. I just know Peyton will be a bitch about it if my data isn’t recent. So! We’ll do this for a week, and then we’ll all eat three times a day for a week and track our feelings.”

Kitty rolls their eyes. “Wonderful.”

“Play nice, Kitty. I was going to let Puppy sleep every night, to avoid confounding variables. But I know that rewarding one of you is rewarding both of you, and I don’t reward bad behavior.”

“I said it sounded wonderful. But if my tone bothers you, you can just make it against the rules. You know I obey you, Master.” Their tone is ice. “And if I knew the opinions of mere mortals bothered you, I’d of course ‘play nice.’”

Puppy loves Kitty, adores them, but what Jane is offering is a full week of regular sleep, maybe two, and she can’t lose that for Kitty’s pride, for this stupid fucking power struggle they’re never going to win. Just apologize, please just apologize, it’s not worth it. She squeezes Kitty’s hand, hard. They gasp, looking at her in surprise.

“I…I’m sorry?”

Jane smiles smugly, seeming satisfied. “Go to bed. Both of you.”

~~

A lot of the clothes Barron got for you would show your scars. To be fair, that’s any clothes that show your arms or legs or neck.

All three of them have repeatedly told you you can ask for anything you want. Maybe you should test that and ask for more long-sleeved shirts. That’s a reasonable request, right? At least, it’s a reasonable request after they’ve insisted you can ask for anything.

On the other hand, there’s no reason to be so self conscious about the scars. Diya and Greg both have them, and they don’t hide theirs. The bite wounds on Diya’s neck, the burns on Greg’s hands.

But… your scars are worse. Which isn’t to say the pain that caused them was worse- you could never know that, and you would never dream of saying you went through worse because there are more marks. The worst things Jane did to you never left a scar, after all. But you definitely have more.

Sometimes you think your arms and legs and chest look a bit like what someone might doodle in a notebook while bored in class. Hearts and swirls and the weird fucking S thing- but the burns and drill marks ruin the image. And the brand.

That’s what you most don’t want anyone to see. If they didn’t like the collar, they certainly won’t like the brand. And you don’t want to see it, you want to pretend you don’t have it.

So you should ask for more long sleeved shirts. And if that means Barron hurts you, at least you’ll know. You won’t have to wonder anymore.

You ask during breakfast, while everyone is there, which feels safest.

“You- you said I could ask for anything, right?”

“Right. I can’t promise I can get anything, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. I want to do whatever I can to help you feel comfortable.” Barron says. Diya smiles at you encouragingly.

“…Nevermind.” Coward.

Diya frowns. “It’s just- you’re kind of stuck here. We brought you here and you can’t leave without risking a monster hurting you, and it would be really shitty if we didn’t do whatever we could to make it comfortable. So if you’re feeling weird about asking for stuff because you feel like you owe us- you don’t. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

Greg nods firmly. “You don’t owe us anything.”

You nod. That… actually helps a bit. You’ve been feeling weird about asking for things when they’ve already given you so much, but you didn’t have much of a choice in that. Maybe it’s not that big a deal.

“I was- I was just wondering if I could have more long sleeved shirts?”

Barron nods. “Of course. The shirts I already got you fit, right? I’ll get some more long sleeved ones today.”

“They fit, yeah. Thank you.”

“Any other clothes you want? Or anything else? Something for entertainment, a food you like, or something?”

You shake your head. There’s a beat of silence.

“Well, I’ll be sure to get you those shirts.”

“Thank you.”

The cabin is quiet for a moment, but Diya never lets it last for long. “Is there a specific reason you want more long sleeved shirts?”

Barron coughs. “You don’t have to answer that. We don’t plan on interrogating you any time you ask for something.”

“Right, right. But like… are you cold? Do you feel more comfortable with more of your body covered? Or is it just a style thing?”

“Diya.” Barron’s tone is warning, sending chills down your spine. Diya sighs dramatically.

“I just think we can help more if we know why you want it! But I can see I’m making uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

Greg has finished their breakfast and takes their empty plate to the sink. You’re eager to do the same.

“It’s okay.” You probably would’ve told them about your scars- but Barron, the way it silenced em with a word… it scared you. If Barron doesn’t want the reason why, you don’t want to share it.

“So… what’s your favorite food, Ethan?”

“Saltines.”

You are overwhelmed with a sort of nostalgia for when Kitty asked you that. You miss them, and Diya is just similar enough to them to make you miss them more.

“Do you want to go on a walk today?”

“…Sure.” You get up and put your plate in the sink. You want a minute alone, want to leave the house- the cabin without being supervised. But walking with Diya isn’t terrible.

“You mentioned you like board and card games. What’re your favorites?”

“I don’t… I like ones with more strategy, I guess. I don’t really have specific favorites.”

“We could play something today. Or I could show you some of the games we’ve got on the computer.”

“That sounds fun. Either of those. I need to do some laundry first, though.”

“Me too! We can do it together.”

You can’t tell why ey seems so desperate to spend time with you. Maybe ey pities you, or feels the need to supervise you so you don’t misbehave. Or maybe ey genuinely likes you and wants to spend time with you. But you don’t feel like any of the likable things about you have been on display lately. You’ve just been scared and tired.

Barron leaves to go to work, and Greg joins you and Diya as you sort clothes. The two of them get chatting about different types of clothes and how comfortable they are, and you zone out as you do the simple task. It’s nice, it doesn’t require enough focus to make your head hurt.

It’s okay. You’re okay. Jane isn’t here, Barron isn’t here, no one’s going to hurt you. You let yourself feel safe for just a moment.

~~

Kitty is doing a lot worse than Puppy. They aren’t as used to hunger. At least, not as used to hunger as they go about their daily life. They can handle it when it’s part of a punishment, but for some reason it’s a lot harder like this. They thought it would be easier with more stuff to distract them, but it’s not.

They don’t know how Puppy handles it. Often only eating once a day, she must be constantly hungry, but she never shows it. Not eating at all, she doesn’t behave any differently. She does her chores efficiently and masterfully. She doesn’t make mistakes. She’d be punished if she made mistakes.

Kitty is having trouble thinking about anything other than food. Food that they know is in the fridge and in the pantry, food that’s /right there/. They try to read and play games and color, but end up too distracted by hunger.

They drink lots and lots of water. Jane never explicitly said they could, but she hasn’t punished them, so they take the risk. Puppy doesn’t though. She drinks when Jane gives her water, and only then.

Kitty keeps thinking that if Puppy were downstairs being hurt, they would be able to get food. They’d know Jane wasn’t watching.

But that’s a horrible thing to wish for, and they know it. They just want to not be hungry anymore.

They’re so tired, so fatigued, but they’re in too much pain to fall asleep. They lie on the couch and count the seconds. They’re so hungry.

~~

You are hiding in the bathroom crying because Diya decided to make mac ‘n cheese for dinner. It’s embarrassing and stupid and it’s just- it’s stupid. Of all the things to remind you of living with Jane…

You think you’ve been pretty subtle, slipping away from the table gracefully and crying quietly, but-

“Ethan? What’s wrong?” Diya’s at the door.

“I’m just going to the bathroom. Do I need supervision to do that, too?” You’re not mad at em, not really, but your heart pounds and you can’t stop thinking about her poisoning you for /no reason/ and Puppy was /already sick/-

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. Can I please just have a minute alone?”

“…I want to help.”

“I know, I know, but I think helping me use the bathroom might be overstepping.”

Diya snorts. “You’ve been crying, though. I could hear you.”

“Why were you listening to me going to the bathroom?”

“I- I was just coming to check on you! You looked upset.”

You feel bold with a locked door between you. “If I wanted your help I would’ve asked for it.”

“…Okay. Okay.” Footsteps retreat from the door. Maybe you were a bit harsh.

Barron could still teleport in. But there’s no reason for it to do that, you haven’t done anything to upset it or disobeyed any orders. There’s no guarantee that Barron will follow the same rules as Jane, though.

Diya said it gets better, and you have to believe that’s true. You have to believe that you won’t always cry over mac ‘n cheese, that you won’t always flinch at the sight of your arms uncovered. You have to believe it, or else there’s no point to any of this. No point to escaping, and certainly no point to trying to save Puppy and Kitty.

After crying a bit more, you splash some water on your face and return to the kitchen. Everyone else has already finished, they’re doing something in the living room. They left your meal on the table.

You force yourself to take two more bites of cold mac ‘n cheese, and then throw out the rest. You remember loosening your collar with Diya, how it was scary but you did it anyway, and you felt better afterwards. It should be the same here. It will get easier, it will get better. You have to believe that.

~~

Puppy’s hands won’t stop shaking. She’s going to get in trouble, going to drop something, going to get herself and Kitty punished.

She has to be careful, has to stay present, pay attention, be a good Puppy. Master can tell when she’s trying.

She needs to make sure Kitty is good too. She can’t let Kitty get hurt, she has to keep Jane happy. Her first priority is pleasing her master, always always always.

Her hands won’t stop shaking, no matter how hard she focuses. It’s only going to get worse as she gets hungrier.

Maybe Master will be merciful. This isn’t a punishment, and she’s proven time and time again that she can do her chores, follow the rules, even while starving, even while sleep deprived, even while so sick she could barely walk. Master doesn’t have to test her, Master just wants to be mean to her therapist. She might be merciful, might tell Puppy that she’s been a very good girl and she can be done for the day.

But Puppy knows better than to get her hopes up. She’s done these chores with shaking hands and an aching stomach before, she can do it again. Even if chores that usually take a couple minutes take half an hour. Even if supplies she can usually carry easily are too heavy to hold for more than a minute at a time. She can do it, and she will, and she and Kitty won’t get hurt any more today.

~~

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Diya says out of nowhere. You’ve been working on knitting again, hoping that it will hurt your head less as you get better at it.

“Hm?”

Diya plops down next to you on the couch. “I have never, in my entire life, wanted to be alone. Even when I was with Irving, it was better to have him there and hurting me than to he left alone. So… I tend to assume other people feel the same way. It’s caused problems before, and I tried to remember that you might like to be alone, and I still made the same mistake I always make. I should’ve listened the first time you said you wanted to be left alone. I’m sorry.”

Ey’s apology sounds sort of scripted, but still genuine. You think ey’s telling the truth.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t mad at you. And you were right, I was crying.”

“Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to. I’ll leave you alone if you want.”

You kind of do want to talk to em. Talking to Diya has helped before. Not as much as talking to Kitty or Puppy would’ve helped, but it helped.

“It’s stupid.”

“Yeah? I should probably say something about how no feelings are stupid, but… I don’t know. Like, back when I first got away from Irving, when Jane killed him, I struggled to eat because I felt like I was hurting my food. Because I had been food for so long. And that was pretty stupid! Eating a sandwich is very different from drinking someone’s blood, and I knew that, and I still had full crying screaming episodes over eating. It wouldn’t have helped to call that stupid while I was going through it, but I don’t think it would’ve helped to act like it was perfectly reasonable either. So maybe emotions /are/ stupid sometimes, but that doesn’t really matter that much. What matters is how the emotions affect you and what you can do to manage them.”

Diya’s rambling reminds you so much of Kitty talking about The Game of Life or how Jane’s actions were never your fault. God, you wish they’d come with you.

Diya is a different person, though. It’s not very nice to em to act like ey’s just a replacement for someone else. And you think you do like Diya, as eir own person, even if you don’t fully trust em like you do Kitty.

“She poisoned us one time using mac ‘n cheese.” You say softly. “It hurt. Puppy was already sick, and we didn’t do anything. She just did it. It wasn’t the worst thing she ever did, I don’t know why trying to eat mac ‘n cheese freaked me out so much. The first thing she did to me was drown me, and I’m not freaked out by the sound of running water.”

“That stuff’s definitely weird. It’s just whatever your brain associates with the trauma. It doesn’t always make sense.” Ey pauses. “It really sucks that she did that to you. Are there any other foods that might cause that reaction?”

“That’s the thing- I don’t know. She didn’t poison us with any other foods like that. But I don’t know. If you’d asked me before- I mean, you did ask me before, and I had no idea mac ‘n cheese would affect me like that.”

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“I want to be able to eat mac ‘n cheese without crying.”

“We can work on that! We have leftovers, and you can make your own mac ‘n cheese whenever you want.”

You nod and focus back on your knitting. “Thank you. For giving me advice, and for sharing about your own experience. It helps.”

“I’m glad!” Diya beams, and then eir smile fades. “Are you still worried about Barron hurting you?”

“I don’t- well. Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t- I can’t do it again.” You can’t, can’t trust someone again just for them to hurt you, can’t fall for such an obvious trap, you can’t-

“You keep saying that. What does it mean?”

You have to set the knitting down, your hands are shaking too much. “I… I want to go on a walk. And I want to do it alone.”

“…Okay. Go ahead. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You get up and approach the door. Ey doesn’t stop you. You step outside. No one stops you. You could leave. You really could leave.

Instead, you follow the same path you and Diya usually take. It’s nice. You loosen your collar and breathe the fresh air deeply. You’re okay. You hope Puppy and Kitty are okay.

With your collar loose, and walking alone, you feel incredibly rebellious. And it’s scary, but it’s also exhilarating. You are full of a nervous, excited energy that makes you want to do a cartwheel or something. But you can’t do a cartwheel, so you just walk faster.

When you come back to the cabin, Diya isn’t in the living room anymore. Your head only hurts a little bit, so you pick your knitting back up. You don’t tighten your collar.

~~

Even with a full week of regular sleep, Puppy is exhausted. She splashes cold water in her face, does jumping jacks, tugs on her hair, and she only barely holds onto consciousness. Her chores are done (she thinks- oh god, are they done?) so she just has to stay awake until Master gives her permission to sleep.

Kitty hasn’t stayed awake for more than a couple minutes all day. Puppy watches them breathe, terrified their breathing will suddenly stop.

Just one more day. Just one more day, then Master will move onto the next phase and she’ll get to eat three meals a day and maybe she’ll still get to sleep every day.

Of course, she’ll have to be careful to avoid refeeding syndrome. But she’ll be allowed to eat, and Kitty will be allowed to eat. Just one more day.

“How are you feeling? I feel great.”

When did Master get in here? Puppy groans.

“Poor Kitty’s asleep… I’ll wake them up after we finish your questions. How would you rate your hunger on a scale of one to ten? Speak. You can answer these questions.”

“…Nine.” It can always be worse. It can always get worse.

“How would you rate your fatigue on a scale of one to ten?”

“Nine.”

“How would you rate your desire to commit violence on a scale of one to ten?”

“Zero.” It’s what she’s been saying all week.

Master continues her line of questioning. Puppy thinks Master asks more questions than normal, but she can’t be sure.

Finally, Master tells her to sleep. She doesn’t have to be told twice.

~~

Diya is helping Barron with something in the computer room, so you and Greg have been playing card games in the living room.

Hanging out with Greg is a lot quieter than hanging out with Diya, but you don’t mind. You don’t mind the quiet at all.

You’re a bit worried about Diya being alone with Barron, but there isn’t any screaming coming from the computer room, so you think ey’s okay.

Greg has incredible posture. They sit up straighter than you think you ever have, and they handle the cards with a strange sort of grace.

“After we finish this one I can show you some of the card games we made up while I was with Jane. Well, Kitty and Puppy mostly made them.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Yeah, they were good at that stuff. I guess they had more practice than me, but any time I tried to make a game it ended up really boring.”

“Ah.”

You continue to play in silence. It’s nice. It’s also nice that you’re winning.

“Are you enjoying living here?” Greg asks.

“…I think so. So far, it’s much better than living with Jane.”

“So far?”

“Well, I can’t know the future. Are you enjoying living here?”

“I am.”

“…Have you ever been hurt here?”

“No. Well, I’m sure I’ve bumped into things or tripped and gotten hurt while here with stuff like that. But I don’t think that’s what you’re asking.”

You swallow. “No one’s hurt you while you were here?”

“Nope.” They pop the P, then think for a second. “Well, maybe on accident. But I can’t think of anything specific. Why do you ask?”

“…I don’t know. Just checking, I guess.”

Greg nods. “That’s okay. You can check as much as you want. None of us will hurt you.”

You think, for maybe just a moment, you believe them.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of screaming. Shit, shit, it’s happening, it’s hurting them, shit.

You don’t know what to do. You instinctively pull your blanket over your head, but you know it’s not a good hiding place.

The screaming is over as soon as it started. Should you investigate? Should you pretend nothing happened?

You take off the blanket and head towards where you think you heard the noise. It’s Diya and Greg’s room.

You hear crying, quiet but definitely there. You think it’s Greg’s voice. You throw open the door.

It’s just Diya and Greg. Greg is crying without emotion on their face, but it doesn’t look like they’re hurt. Diya holds them close.

“Ethan. Did we wake you up? Greg just had a nightmare. I’ve got this handled. You can go back to bed. And… maybe knock, next time.”

That makes sense. Greg did say they all have nightmares, and if Barron’s not here… Well, you don’t think Diya would hurt Greg. It makes more sense to you that it would be a nightmare.

You step back, embarrassed. You’re lucky you didn’t interrupt something more intimate.

“…Sorry.”

Greg recoils, burying their face in Diya’s shoulder. You gently close the door.

It feels… wrong, to have seen Greg so vulnerable. It makes your skin crawl, and you’re not sure why. But they’ve seen you after a nightmare, so you guess you’re even.

…Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, for Diya or Greg to see your scars.

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #nonhuman whumper #multiple whumpees #pet whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #starvation tw #disscussion of torture tw #jane’s pets #2nd person pov #3rd person pov

[cecilebutcher]

『◌𝕋𝕒𝕠 𝕐𝕦́𝕔𝕙𝕚◌』

C.w: description of violence

More info

⊱Bᴀsɪᴄs⊰

Name: Tao Yúchí

Age:17

Date of birth: May 28

Zodiac sign:Gemini

Hight:179cm

Dorm:Savanaclaw

Class: 2D

Place of birth:Shaftlands

Mother: unknown

Father: unknown

⊱Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ⊰

Tao is a monkey beastmen. He has tanned skin with patches of fair since he has Vitiligo. He has ruby colored eyes and a mole under his left one. He has shoulder length brown hair with a white streak in his bangs. Even though it doesn’t show since he usually wears baggy clothes, Tao is actually well built. Not too many muscles not too little.

⊱Sᴘᴇᴀᴄɪᴀʟ Mᴀɢɪᴄ⊰

The four phases: the ability to see through any and all illusions transformations and disguises. And the ability to create a cloud like surface that floats that people can sit on for long periods of time, it is also very comfortable.

⊱Fʀɪᴇɴᴅs⊰

Ace. Deuce. Ruggie. Jack. Floyd. Epel. Aikat(oc). Phobes(oc). Silver.

⊱Tʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs Oɴ Cʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs⊰

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎: ugh I can’t stand the guy! He’s always telling me what to do and what not to!

𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚢:Eh, don’t care for him.

𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛: He invites to to hang out if he needs a big group and to party, so he’s cool.

𝙰𝚌𝚎: Ace is just hilarious! Whenever I wanna do something stupid he is always up for it!

𝙳𝚎𝚞𝚌𝚎: While he isn’t as fun as Ace, he can sure as hell throw a punch!! When I get in a fight again I’m 100% calling him!!

𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚊: Housewarden? He’s cool. Doesn’t bother me and I don’t bother him.

𝚁𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎: That guy might be small but let me tell ya he’s fast! He could be on the track team, I’ve asked him to join but he really likes the spelldrive team, sigh.

𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔: He’s big, like way too big, what are they feeding him? But he can run so he’s cool.

𝙺𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚖: sweet…. TOO sweet. He’s hiding something.

𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕:Too mean. Don’t like him. Such a pushover.

𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚕: Haven’t made a deal with him yet, will continue this way. But if he asks me to join octavinelle again, he’ll lose that pretty face of his😁

𝙹𝚊𝚍𝚎: Hiding something…. But this time I don’t mind as much.

𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚍: oh dude I’m in his class and it’s so fun! You never know what would happen ever! I recommend hanging out with him it’s so fun!

𝚅𝚒𝚕: Sometimes, I wanna slam him into the wall and beat him up:)

𝙴𝚙𝚎𝚕: very very tiny. Very very strong. Respect.

𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚔: Keep that guys as far away from me as the sun. Holy hell he terrifies me, and NOTHING terrifies me!

𝙸𝚍𝚒𝚊:That’s Ortho’s older brother right?

𝙾𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚘: He’s sweet but not the same as Kalim, so he’s cool, I guess.

𝙰𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚝(OC): one time he told me that I would make a great leather couch….. he’s weird, I like him!

𝙿𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚜(oc): At first I thought he was quiet , maybe too quiet. But turn out he’s weirder than his brother. I fucking love these two!!

𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚞𝚜: Don’t care for him.

𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊: Silver looks up to him for some reason….. especially since he’s shorter than him.

𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛: Sometimes I find him fast asleep on random things, so I just put him on one of my clouds and go on with my life.

𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚎𝚔: He’s so fucking loud!! And disrespectful! I wanna beat it out of him.

⊱Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ⊰

Tao is smart wise and intelligent, often shocking people with it(even leona sometimes wow. He’s reliable when he wants to be. not mention he’s strong and brave, always up for a challenge. He’s independent. And if he likes you enough he’s loyal even after death. He’s very easy going and open minded, not really caring for stuff, unless it causes a big problem(not the overbolts though huh?). He’s actually really funny. He can actually be really mature at times, though it’s very rare. He’s quite charismatic and social to others, and trustworthy. He says things as he sees them, making him really truthful. He’s also really witty. And he can tell when people are lying, making his basically a walking lying detector.

But hens still rather aggressive and violent a lot of the times(mostly outside of school) getting into fights waaaay too much. He can be rude and unfriendly at time. Not to mention greedy and possessive to that he hold dear(or those). He’s a bit bossy and moody, and can be selfish. Him being violent can make him very destructive. Some people say he’s difficult, mostly people who have taken care of him(even his own friends sometimes. And he can be very very irresponsible, especially if it’s about something he doesn’t care for. Speaking of caring, if it doesn’t benefit him, he doesn’t care for it, this also appears to people sometimes. He’d seen as snobbish and lazy a lot of the time(especially since 90% of the time he’s on his cloud or in a tree vibing).

He’s energetic, honest and sarcastic, Lighthearted, competitive, Traditional, stubborn, secretive, curious, unchanging, wary, and weird.

⊱Fᴜɴ Fᴀᴄᴛs⊰

Tao was orphaned at a young age.

Although tons of homes took him in because of his intelligence he left all of them because they never felt like home.

Until one day an old man took him in but not as a son, but a student.

He already had three other students, two older than him and 1 the same age.

From then on he was trained in magic, martial arts and any and all weapons.

He has a small friend group which consists of one dragon Faes a beastman of some kind(They don’t know yet) a pig beastman and a human.

He loves sushi and all its variants, plus steak.

And his favorite food is fruit and veggies.

In his free time he likes to go and bother people, playing pranks and just be annoying.

Which is why most house wardens don’t like him.

Violence is his first answer, then talking it out.

He has the second highest grades on the 2nd years under Riddle.

While Coach Vargas thinks of him as a spectacular students, the rest of the staff hate being his teacher.

He’s on the Track team, and is the captain.

Jack Epel and Deuce are impressed with how strong and capable he actually is.

Ruggie and Leona though….. they don’t really care

He’s usually cutting class and finding a quiet place to vibe on his make shift could.

Has blinded someone before out of anger, almost killed him too(if you know who I’m referring to I’ll kiss you). That student is also a diasomnia 2nd year.

Has major self esteem issues.

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #savanaclaw #monkey king

[hellsbellschime]

So I know mentioned that I have weirdly bad luck a few days ago, and although this happened on Sunday and I just didn't have the energy to chronicle it until now, it is such a hilariously on-point example that I'm a Murphy's law magnet that I can't not share.

So, I went to Las Vegas with my cousin last week and generally had a good time, aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure I broke a bone in my foot and/or toe the day he arrived in California to hang before we left, which obviously made traveling in general or doing a lot of fun shit way more difficult (and I'm finally going to go see a doctor about it tomorrow or Thursday so fingers crossed they don't tell me anything terrible).

Sunday was the day I left, and because I have a Priority Pass I left the hotel at like 4:30am so I could go grab a free breakfast at the airport lounge before I go. I get there, do this automated ordering thing, get a confirmation number and everything, and it says that it should be ready in 15 minutes or less. Because I'm dumb and don't recall that everything that can go wrong for me will go wrong, I don't note when I made the order, and eventually realize it has been 30 minutes at least and it's basically time for me to go. I track down an employee and ask WTF, and they're like oh yeah we got no order and we can't give you anything to go, sorry. Which already had me annoyed, but whatever, it's a flight from Las Vegas to Los Angeles, it's 7am and it'd be bizarre if I wasn't home by 10am.

So I get on the plane, fly home, everything seems to be fine. I arrive, text my mom that I've landed, go down and collect my luggage, and wait. And wait. And wait and wait. Eventually calling her like 10 times during that hour to see what the eff is going on.

After waiting in the terminal for about an hour, I decide to go start looking for her, as I'm guessing she must have forgotten her phone, and to be fair, I did tell her that it would be one of two terminals that I would land in. So I walk to the other terminal, no dice. I know she'll be driving my new EV, so I think hey, maybe I should check out the EV parking areas to see if she's even here. I do that, no dice. I do a few laps in the airport again, still no luck. All of this on an injured effing foot mind you.

By the time I have gone through all this rigmarole, it has legitimately killed another hour of waiting (LAX is fucking huge if you didn't know). At this point I am legitimately starting to get concerned, and I think hey, my car is brand new and all tech-equipped, maybe I can do something with that and at least see if the car is parked at my house, at the airport, or en route somewhere else.

So although I hadn't signed up for the service yet because my car is legit brand new, I text OnStar to see if there is any assistance they can give me. They eventually tell me to get on a call and I do, and because I haven't actually signed up for anything they ask me a series of questions to figure out how they can track down my shit. They ultimately ask me for my VIN which I surprisingly do have because I at least signed up for the Chevy app on my phone, and they're like oh this VIN (on my brand new car that has been owned by no one else mind you) has a registered OnStar account to some guy name Frank who I've never heard of in my life. I'm like okay, maybe the zero in my VIN number is actually an O, so they try that and are like nope there's nothing here it's definitely the Frank account or whatnot, but we can't help you either way.

But thankfully, they at least offer to transfer me to someone who works at Chevy to see if they can do something about it as well. They ping me over to them and we essentially go through the exact same process again, down to them telling me that some dude named Frank has an account under my VIN and that ultimately there is nothing that they can do. They're basically like, eh, call the cops or you're SOL.

At this point another hour plus has gone by and my concern and frustration is through the roof, and I'm basically like well I could call the cops, but if I know my mom, she's just blowing me off or screwed something up rather than it being an emergency. So I decide that I should find a way home by myself, and I better figure it out fast because my phone battery is now at like 20%. Lyft, Uber, and cabs were too much, but there is an express bus from LAX to Union Station that runs often and it's sorta in the direction of my house, so I download that app, buy a one way ticket, and wait for the bus to show up.

In case it wasn't obvious, I have also been incessantly calling my mom this entire time, but once I have bought my ticket and am waiting, despite the fact that I have called 30+ times to no avail and I landed at 8 and it is now 10 to noon, she FINALLY picks up the phone, very clearly just waking up from sleep. Unsurprisingly I am a tsunami of rage and basically say okay cool, glad you're okay, already figured out how to get home, gotta go, don't want to deal with your shit at the moment.

So I take the bus to Union Station and then take the metro rail toward my house (which sidenote, 10/10 recommend LA metro rail, even if the train isn't the cleanest holy shit the views were actually spectacular, it was super fast, and I legit regretted never having taken the train in the city before then). The station in my town is like 2 miles from my house, I ask my mom to pick me up, she says yes, and once again I'm sitting outside at 1pm in 100+ degree heat, waiting with very little shade. After waiting for like 20 minutes I'm like hey, do I want to sit here waiting forever again or should I start walking? So I start walking home with luggage in tow, and tell her that I'm starting to walk home so if she finds me she finds me and if not I'll be there when I get there.

I, no joke, make it 1.6 out of the 2 miles before she actually arrives. I tell her to GTFO of the driver's seat so I can drive home and immediately start charging my now nearly-dead phone, I hop in, and immediately see that the battery gauge on the car is flashing on "low" and the battery is low enough that it is minimizing the actual propulsion of the car. Thankfully we are right next to the DC fast charging stations near my house, so I immediately turn into the parking lot. Not so thankfully but entirely as usual, there are three cars in line waiting before me. I tell my mom to once again GTFO and go into the nearby mall so I can wait, and because the battery is so low, I lower all of the windows and turn the car off, once again waiting in 100+ degree heat.

It takes 20-25 minutes for me to get to the front of the line, and because Electrify America charging stations are garbage, I get the actual charger to connect to my car but the card reader is not working. I call EA assistance to pay on my almost dead phone, and as I am giving her my card info, the call starts breaking up hardcore. It disconnects, but thankfully the agent calls me back and finishes the transaction so the car can start charging the battery that now literally has 3% power and I can also start charging my phone.

At this point I am so hot and sweaty that my hair is literally wet, and I'm like A. I'm dying and B. I actually probably need to rehydrate for my own safety, so I go into the mall and get a large Honeydew smoothie and large watermelon slush to bring myself back to life. I go back to the car because at this point I am beyond exhausted, my foot is killing, and I am dying to go home because I have been up since 4:30am and expected to be home 7 hours earlier, so once the car is just half charged I finally bail.

I go home, pass tf out, and wake up a few hours later with sunburns on both of my forearms.

So, if you were ever wondering what I meant when I said that I have genuinely weirdly, bizarrely bad luck, now you know.

#real life woes