#(and yeah i'm aware that there's more steps involved than just getting it to my city but shhh)

[cecilyacat]

Me when I'm checking tracking updates for a package sent from a random place in Germany: Ah well, obviously it will take a while, they gotta transport it all that way before the postman can actually deliver it, it will probably be here in a couple of days, it's chill

Me, when I'm checking tracking updates for a package sent from the big city 30min away by train: Um, hello, it's been 1 1/2 days, why does it take this long to get the package to me??? I could just go there and grab it, that'd be faster ffs

#my actual life #postal system #i might be a bit impatient in this case #(maybe) #but it would actually be really convenient if the package arrived tomorrow #so here's to hoping they just didn't update the tracking information #(and yeah i'm aware that there's more steps involved than just getting it to my city but shhh)

[faggot-vampire-dies-epicly]

Tear me to pieces

Summary: Vanessa was annoyed. Her dad had sent her to check on you at the old Freddy's location on the outskirts of town. She expected the eerie atmosphere and dusty hallways, but she didn’t expect the way you made her feel. | Words: 6,031K

Warnings: Semi-graphic depictions of corpses. Death, murder, missing people, references of child death/murder. Parental abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation. Cursing. A slight sexual joke. Heavy angst, hurt/almost no comfort. William is an asshole on this one, you guys. Fem!Reader.

A/N: Whew, this took so long! But I'm kind of proud on how this turned out, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I went out of my way to make William as shitty as possible because I love making Vanessa suffer, and well, there's also sort of a plot twist? It's probably pretty obvious but I tried to keep it in the dark a little :). Title is from Lovely by Billie Eilish & Khalid/Inspired by the entire album of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, by My Chemical Romance.

Main Materlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

She had arrived at least fifteen minutes ago, but her headache from her father’s berating had not yet subsided. She really wasn’t in the mood to make any effort. In spite of William’s scolding, she wanted just to fulfill her father’s orders in the most half-assed-and-bare-minimum-effort way possible.

Vanessa sighed, staring at the restaurant’s sign. The letters of the neon sign glowed dimly over the parking lot.

She cursed under her breath and got out of the car. She opened the trunk and took out the bag where she kept his fake police uniform. Her father had been trying to convince her for months to enroll into the police force, but she had refused over and over again. Vanessa knew he just wanted her to cover for him, and she refused to be more involved in his crimes than she already was.

She put the uniform over her normal civil clothes, grabbed the fake police badge and the ID and stepped out of the car. 

Vanessa took a deep breath and finally walked to the entrance. 

Doing these checkups was never easy for her. She got to meet pretty mundane people who were practically doomed from the start. From middle aged parents that just needed the job to survive with their kids to college students and teenagers that were fresh out of high school and just wanted to make some money to buy a car or go out with their friends.

They never lasted. Never.

Unfair was an understatement.

At least her father didn’t have to do with the disappearance of the majority. Most of them she would find inside Freddy. It wasn’t pretty. It didn’t get any easier, but at least she knew her father wasn’t the real cause in the end. Or that’s how she tried to convince herself.

She rang the bell, waiting for the guard of this month (or perhaps of this week only) to come out.

She looked back at the parking lot. It was empty except for her car, parked on the darkest corner she could find. The door opened and she snapped her head back to the entrance.

And she saw you, looking confused.

“Is there anything I can help you with, officer?”

She stared at you for a moment. “Another college kid?” she thought wryly, “she’s not even going to last the full week”.

Vanessa forced a smile, suddenly becoming too aware of the way your gaze wouldn’t leave her face.

“Hi,” she said in a slightly strangled voice. You frowned.

She blushed slightly and cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m Officer Shelly. Vanessa Shelly,” she laughed awkwardly.

Vanessa extended her hand out, hoping you would understand the gesture and shook it. You complied. It was gentle, but firm. 

It made her skin tingle.

Vanessa swallowed, trying to shake the feeling away. 

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious,” she began. “I just wanted to check on you. When there’s a new night guard in this place, word spreads fast.” 

You made a confused face, but you nodded. She smiled at you, “can I come in?”

“Um,” you hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah, sure,” you said while stepping aside. She gave you a polite smile and she went into the restaurant.

Once inside, she looked around. It looked the same every time, but that didn’t make it any less dreadful.

The place used to be crammed with kids and their families. There were always birthday celebrations, kindergarten graduation parties, some people just going for a quick bite after a long day. Hell, sometimes even some high school students would show up after homecoming.

She remembered it well. The smell of pizza, the laughter of children, the animatronics singing and dancing. 

And then, her father inside the suit. The police sirens, mothers crying, fathers yelling.

A chill runned down her spine, snapping her out of the memories. You eyed her curiously at the sudden reaction, but said nothing. 

Vanessa cleared her throat again, “how long have you been working here?”

You licked your lips, an action Vanessa got too caught on. “A couple of days only.”

She hummed, nodding. “Has anything weird happened?” You swallowed, “weird how?”

Vanessa shrugged. “Like someone trying to break in,” she said casually, glancing around. “Or,” she trailed off, “equipment malfunctioning, like the monitors, or the cameras, or…”

She turned to face you. “Maybe the animatronics getting a bit quirky.” She tried to be as nonchalant as possible while mentioning the animatronics.

You seemed to tense up slightly, opening your mouth to answer but then snapping it shut again.

“No,” you said finally, with a slightly higher pitch than usual. “Nope. Nothing like that has happened, ma’am.”

Vanessa grimaced at the formal way you addressed her. “Please,” she forced some humor into her voice, “don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, “I’m sorry Officer–”

She raised her hand, signaling for you to stop talking. “Just,” she sighed, “just call me Vanessa.”

You breathed out softly. “Sorry, Vanessa.”

The way you said her name had her avoiding your gaze nervously. “God, Vanessa, get a grip,” she thought.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed quickly.

You two stood there in an awkward silence for a few moments. She couldn’t bear it.

“So, what made you decide to work at Freddy’s?” Vanessa internally scolded herself for asking something so stupid and personal.

“Oh,” you said, shrugging. “I just wanted to make some money before the school year starts.”

Vanessa nodded slowly, “Highschool?”

You shook your head. “College, actually.”

Her eyes widened, you looked younger than you were then.

“That’s,” she blinked a few times, “nice.”

You nodded awkwardly, and she smiled. “What’s your major?”

“English literature.”

“That sounds interesting,” she said thoughtfully.

“You know, I never considered going to college,” Vanessa murmured, thinking how her father would reduce her to dust if she even dared to suggest the idea.

“Is that why you’re a cop?” You said bluntly. You quickly realized how that sounded and attempted to take it back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Vanessa stared at you blankly for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

You smiled, confused. 

“Don’t worry. It is probably why I am a cop, yeah,” she said, smiling, trying to regain her composure.

Not one of the previous had charmed her enough to even smile, and now you were making her laugh.

She obviously couldn’t tell you that she wasn’t actually a cop. She sighed, gazing at the clock that hung on the wall. “Well, I better get going, I still have to patrol a couple of blocks,” she lied.

You nodded, understanding, and then escorted her to the door.

“I may come back another night to see how you’re doing, alright?” 

“Sure.”

Vanessa nodded, but before you closed the door, she spoke again. “You never told me your name.”

You smiled, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” she echoed, then nodded. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too, Vanessa.”

And with that she made her way back to her car, her heart pounding inside her chest.

She returned four days later by her father’s order. 

Same routine. Choose the darkest spot in the parking lot, put the fake uniform on top of her normal clothes, grab her fake badge and fake ID and put on her bravest face. 

It was the same procedure she had done for years. Except, of course, that this time it was pouring, and she hadn’t brought a rain coat with her.

She frantically rang the bell, feeling the rain wet her clothes and soak her to the bone. 

You opened the door, letting her through. She mumbled a thank you as she rushed inside.

“God, you’re soaked,” you murmured. She snapped her head towards you, almost straining her neck, and you blushed at how that sounded. “I, I meant–” 

Vanessa sighed, looking at her uniform, “I know what you meant,” she grumbled.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “I think there’s a towel in the office. Come with me.”

She followed you to the office while shivering. You offered your chair for her to sit and she gladly accepted it.

She watched you search every corner of your office for a towel, but the only thing you could find was a handkerchief. 

“Sorry, this is all I have,” you scratched the back of your neck as you offered the piece of cloth. She took with trembling fingers, and immediately dried her face.

“What brings you here again?” You asked, sitting on your desk. She sighed, untying her hair to try and dry it a bit with the handkerchief. 

“I just want to see how you are doing, honestly,” she said, making a face. “I didn’t read the weather forecast, as you can see.”

You chuckled a bit, “you’re going to be fine.”

A beat passed and you spoke up again, “actually, I have coffee, would you like some?”

She groaned softly. “Oh my God. Yes, please.”

You chuckled again, taking out a thermos from your backpack and pouring some in the mug sitting on the desk.

She took the coffee hastily and took a sip, humming in contentment. “I think you’re the first guard to bring coffee to the job,” she murmured. You raised your eyebrows.

“Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. The job is being a night guard, I can’t be the only one,” you rolled your eyes, and she smiled into the mug. “And second of all,” you looked into her eyes, “you met the other guards?”

Vanessa choked on the hot liquid, and coughed. She had said too much.

“Um,” she said, trying to recover. “Well, I met some of them,” she laughed awkwardly, avoiding your eyes. You hummed, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“And how were they like?”

Vanessa sighed, as flashbacks flooded her mind. 

Sometimes she would find their bodies still sitting on the chair, their head laid down on the desk. She would consider herself lucky when she found them like that. Usually they had been just stabbed on the chest, or the stomach. It was probably Foxy, or that’s what she liked to think.

Other times she would find them in the supply closet. Dismembered, split in a half, headless, or smashed. She would have to hide the bodies and additionally clean the whole room. 

The animatronics were relentless, especially, she had come to realize, if the person looked like her father, even if it was just the minimum. 

She didn’t blame them of course. They had been trapped in there for at least two decades, and even if they had forgotten what happened, and who did them wrong, they still subconsciously searched for vengeance.

“Vanessa?” 

She snapped out of her thoughts, “yes?”

“What were the other night guards like? I mean,” you shifted on the desk, leaning in. “I mean, I’ve heard that most of them went missing. But that can’t be true, can’t it? That’s too many people to be a coincidence.”

She swallowed, looking at the remaining sip of coffee on the mug.

Vanessa cleared her throat in an effort to regain her composure. “Well, I’m sure most of them simply quit.”

“You don’t seem so sure,” you said, arching an eyebrow. She tried to brush it off by chuckling. 

“I mean,” she sighed, “it would be too many people to be a coincidence, like you said. People don’t just… disappear.” 

You frowned. The tone in which she had said it made your curiosity rise. 

Just as you were about to ask her to explain what she meant, she drank the last of the coffee and handed you the mug.

“Well, thanks for the coffee,” she looked down at her hands, where she was holding the handkerchief. “And for the…” she waved the piece of cloth, “this.”

You smiled and her heart sped up. “Sure thing."

It had become a routine. She came back to supposedly check on you, but in reality she just wanted to see you. To hear you.

She ached to look at you as you ranted to her about a boring book you had been reading lately. 

She brought you dinner sometimes, which you always took with a smile, and a thank you in a soft voice, which made her heart leap into her chest.

Vanessa wasn't what people would call experienced in love, much less in dating, or relationships, but she knew that what you made her feel was not only attraction, but also affection.

Affection had always eluded Vanessa. First from her father, given his nature, and then from her mother, who vanished from the face of the Earth when Vanessa was a child.

But you were different. You seemed to exhale affection through your pores. It was so natural for you, whether with her or with everything else, that she could feel devotion slowly consuming her.

Her father had started to suspect that something was up. He had always controlled her outings, only letting her out at night to fulfill her duties as his spy, but she was checking on the guard a little too much for his liking.

He had even cornered her, grabbing her arm tightly and pressing her against the wall. “I’m warning you, Vanessa,” he said. “If I find out that you are crossing the line between my orders and your personal matters, it’s not going to end well for either of you. Especially not for her.”

She had suppressed a shiver as William let go of her arm.

Vanessa knew it was risky, but she didn’t want to stop. In fact, she couldn’t. It’s like she had become addicted to you.

Addicted to your smile, your humor, your voice. 

She hadn’t even touched you yet, aside from the handshake on the first night she met you, and the occasional brush of hands when she handed you some food, or when you gave her a mug filled with coffee.

She loved to hear you rant about the books you read, even if she thought that reading was boring, especially the books you always chose to read.

“I’m telling you,” you said, “this has to have some truth to it!” You exclaimed, holding the book up, whose cover read “The Turn of the Screw.” 

“What if ghosts do exist?” You continued. She rolled her eyes, slightly unamused by your interest in the supernatural. 

She knew ghosts were real. The whole place was a proof of it. All the deaths, and the attacks, it was obvious what had provoked them, but she remained silent as you kept speaking.

“I mean,” you continued, “you know energy can’t be destroyed, right? And humans are energy. So what really happens to our energy when we die?”

You seemed fascinated by the concept of ghosts now. All thanks to that stupid book.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious,” Vanessa scoffed. 

You rolled your eyes, “you just don’t get it.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

You grinned, “I could lend you the book if you want.” She chuckled.

“That won’t be necessary, believe me. I know enough thanks to what you have told me,” she smiled.

“Well, that sounds like you don’t like reading.”

 She laughed, “Not all of us can be workbooks like you, you know?”

Your grin widened. “You just don’t appreciate the beauty of reading and analyzing.”

Vanessa hummed, and smirked, “that must be why I became a cop.” You groaned. “God, no. I thought you had forgotten about that.” She smiled.

“I never forget the things you tell me,” she said softly. 

You smiled softly, blushing slightly while you looked down at your book. On the page you were left on you put the handkerchief, which you were now using as a separator, and closed the book.

“You know,” you spoke softly. “I know that might have sounded pretty mean. But I said it as a compliment.”

She met your gaze, “how so?”

You licked your lips. “Well, I could never be a cop. To be a cop you need to be brave, smart and caring. Reading is something I’ve always loved, that’s why I’m majoring in english literature, but you,” you paused. “You became a police officer to help people, something that has never crossed my mind.”

Vanessa swallowed, knowing that she wasn’t a real cop, and that she wasn’t pretending to help anyone but herself and her father.

“Your decision to pursue a career that allows you to help others doesn't compare to my futile decision to study literature because I like to read and be annoying.” You smiled at her again. “I could never be like you, and I admire you, honestly.”

She felt a little overcome with emotion, and completely filled with guilt. She swallowed her feelings down.

“Thank you. For your kind words.”

You grinned, “as long as I’m alive you’ll get to hear more kind words coming from me.”

One night, when Vanessa descended the staircase, carrying the bag with her fake belongings, William was waiting for her at the foot of the steps, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

He wore that look he always had when he was planning something, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Vanessa,” he began, his voice cold like ice, “where are you going?”

She swallowed, lifting the bag for her father to see, hoping he would deduce her intentions, but he merely arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to Freddy’s”, Vanessa said in a small voice, “to check on the night guard.”

She brushed past him, walking towards the garage.

“You’ve been checking on her an awful lot lately, hm?” 

William trailed behind her, his pace slowly but his steps wide.

Vanessa didn’t turn to look at him. She opened the car’s trunk, throwing the bag inside, and just hummed in acknowledgement to her dad’s words.

“Is there a reason why?” William insisted.

Vanessa sighed. “No, dad. I just want to keep an eye on her,” she closed the trunk with more force than she intended to. “I’m just doing as you told me. I’m just doing what you entrusted me to do.” 

He hummed, sounding more like the typical cartoon villain than an actual man. 

“Remember what I told you, Vanessa.”

Vanessa didn’t answer, she just opened the driver’s side door, and got into the car.

Just as she was adjusting the mirror by her window, William grabbed her wrist tightly, and squeezed even tighter.

Vanessa groaned.

“I’m serious, Vanessa,” he leaned closer to her through the window, towering over his daughter. Vanessa felt herself shrinking on her seat.

"If I catch you spilling your guts to that filthy little friend of yours, I'll skin her alive, and you, dear daughter, I'll lock you up in the basement with the prototypes of animatronics I've been working on.”

Vanessa’s breath got caught in her throat. “Dad–” she tried to explain, but he just kept talking, squeezing her wrist harder.

“And I assure you, little girl,” William practically sneered, “this time those animatronics will serve their purpose if you dare come near them."

Finally, he let go of her wrist, or rather, he flung it away from him, and Vanessa's hand hit the mirror.

William walked away, slamming the door behind him as he left the room.

Vanessa sat there, still trembling, holding onto her hand, which hurt pretty bad. But she didn’t know what was worse, if the physical pain, the threats against you, or the threats against her.

When she had finally calmed down enough, she turned on the engine, and drove away.

Away from her father, and looking for you.

Your smile had disappeared, and turned instead into a frown as soon as you saw the state she was in. 

A nervous mess, with tense shoulders, and a bruise starting to form on her wrist. Wide, alert eyes met yours instead of the usual bright eyes that typically greeted you.

You closed the door behind her, the atmosphere was so tense that it could have been cut with a knife.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she sighed, leaning against one of the tables that were used for dinning back in the day.

You crossed the distance between you and her in two seconds, and delicately took her injured wrist.

“Then what is this?”

Vanessa’s pulse quickened. You were touching her.

Your skin felt so soft, so warm, and inviting. She suppressed a shiver as she swallowed dryly and looked away. 

“That’s just,” she gestured with her other hand, “an occupational hazard.” “I've never seen you have one of these before," you murmured. “Does it hurt?” You asked as you poked the bruise lightly. Vanessa hissed.

“Shit–” you let go of her hand as if it burned you. “I’m so sorry–”

“It’s fine,” she cut you off. “I’m fine, really.” She ran a hand through her carefully arranged ponytailed hair. “That just… happens sometimes. Sometimes things just happen to you, and you can’t explain why.” She swallowed, “you never know if you did something to cause them, or if that is just how life works.” You opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

“Come with me,” you said finally, walking towards your office.

She hesitated for a moment, but ultimately followed you.

Once inside, you took your backpack and began to search inside. After a few moments, you pulled out a cold juice can wrapped in the handkerchief from last time.

“I brought this because I wanted to give it to you,” you said after you saw Vanessa’s look of confusion. “But I have books in my backpack, I don’t want them to get wet.” 

You unwrapped the handkerchief, which was now cold. With a subtle gesture, you  extended your hand towards her, indicating for her to bring her wrist closer.

She complied. You took her wrist, wrapping the cold cloth around it.

“There,” you said, “that’ll help with the swelling.” 

She took a deep breath, touched by the gesture.

“Thank you,” Vanessa said, meeting your gaze as she smiled softly.

“Anytime,” you replied, offering the juice can to her. “Besides, it matches your uniform.”

Vanessa smiled, taking the can from your hand. Her fingers brushed against yours, which caused a tingle to go down her spine.

Your smile widened, your eyes traveling to her injured wrist. “I hope it helps,” you gestured towards the piece of cloth wrapped around her wrist.

Vanessa nodded, pulling the tab from the can, and resting her lips on the cold surface of the lid. “It already feels better,” she admitted with a soft voice.

“Good,” you replied. You both stood there in silence, and Vanessa couldn’t help but notice that providing her with some comfort made you look strangely content.

“Have you seen the animatronics perform?” She asked suddenly.

You huffed a laugh. “Uh, no. Not really.”

She took a sip from the juice, “would you like to?”

You met her gaze, holding it for a second, and then you nodded.

When Vanessa woke up the next day, she lay in bed, mulling over everything that had happened the night before.

You giving her your handkerchief to help with the swelling of her wrist, the juice can, the animatronics' performance, the dancing, the way you rested your forehead against hers as you laughed after tripping over your own feet.

It felt surreal, to say the least.

When she finally decided to descend the stairs to find something to eat, her father was in the dining room reading the newspaper.

Their eyes met, but due to the fight from the night before, neither of them said anything and shortly after, William disappeared from her sight.

She was relieved, of course. A day without William meant a day without problems. No arguments, no empty threats, and no deathly stares.

Vanessa decided to just stay in and relax. It was true that she was glad William wasn’t around, but she didn’t want to upset him further by going out without permission. With her going out almost every night, deliberately disobeying him and lying to his face. She didn’t want to think about what could happen if he found out.

Hours passed and Vanessa was growing worried. Had something happened to him? 

It was true that whenever they were together, Vanessa felt like she had to walk on eggshells, always being on edge. But he was her dad after all, wasn't he? Her only family.

After a while of pacing out in front of the door, Vanessa sat down.

She started dozing off, and just when the clock was about to strike midnight, the door opened, with a very calm William stepping inside.

Vanessa immediately jumped from her seat, rushing to him.

William gave her an exasperated look, but smiled to her nonetheless.

He unceremoniously walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and Vanessa trailed behind him.

“Dad?”

William ignored her, taking the carton of milk out of the fridge, and setting it on the table. He then turned to the cupboard, taking out a mug, and lastly, took out powdered coffee from the kitchen cabinet.

“Dad,” Vanessa insisted. What was his deal now? Was he going to ignore her until his anger had dissipated?

He turned around, turning on the hot water, and filling his cup, which was now full of coffee powder. He hummed a tune, one Vanessa could recognize from the songs the animatronics used to play, she clenched her fists.

“Father,” her patience was running out, her voice was more commanding this time.

William continued on his task, now pouring the milk after having dissolved the coffee with water. Then he took the sugar jar and opened it.

She hated him. She hated him so much.

She hated his smugness, his incredibly enormous ego, the total dismissal of her feelings, the threats, the fights, the screaming, the hits –

Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. What was his problem? All Vanessa had ever done was to please him, and when she displeased him just once, he preferred to be away all day and ignore her afterward.

“Look at me!” she all but growled. 

William audibly sighed, taking a sip out of his drink. He put the mug on the counter, and finally acknowledged Vanessa’s presence.

“Tell me,” he said in a monotone voice, “are you going to visit your little friend today?”

Vanessa swallowed. “No, I’m not.”

William raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? That’s surprising.” 

Vanessa opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted her with a low chuckle. “I mean, you were so eager to see her last night, weren’t you?”

She inhaled, trying to relax and push her uncomfort down. “Yes,” she said between her teeth. “But since it upset you, I’m not going to go check on her for at least a couple of days.”

William hummed.

“Is that satisfying enough for you, father?”

“Bah,” with a dismissive gesture, he waved off her words, turning his head to the side with disdain.

“Playing the “father” card with me, like you’re a little kid,” he murmured to himself. “I know what you’re doing,” he turned to her, closing the distance between them.

Vanessa recoiled, panic etching her face. 

She tried walking away from him until her back hit the wall, and William finally cornered her.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” He smiled condescendingly at her. “You think you’re so tough, so… lucky. One day reality it’s going to hit you, and you’ll realize you’re not worth any of the trouble you’re causing.”

He raised his hand towards her face.

Vanessa’s breath quickened. She felt as if all of the air in the room suddenly vanished. Her chest felt tight, her throat was dry and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

William gently stroked her cheek before slowly sliding his hand downward. He rested his hand around Vanessa’s neck, not squeezing, just to hold her in place, like a silent warning.

His voice was soft and calm, but incredibly supercilious. “The day will come, Vanessa. Just wait and see.”

After a week of radio silence, Vanessa couldn't take it anymore and went to look for you at work.

Something had changed. She didn't know what exactly, but you weren't the same.

You would barely face her, let alone look at her. You would avoid her touch, you wouldn't accept her offerings of food.

You didn't offer her coffee anymore.

Vanessa couldn't help but wonder if it was something she had done.

Every time she tried to mention it, you brushed it off like it wasn’t important.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” or sometimes it was “I just had a rough day, don’t worry about it.”

You were lying, it was painfully obvious, and both of you were aware of it.

But why? What had happened? 

Vanessa couldn’t help but roll around in bed every night, thinking, analyzing.

Whatever it was, she was determined to find out.

There was something else, too.

Her father had also changed his behavior.

He stopped asking where she was going. He also spent most of his time in the basement, working on his projects.

Vanessa honestly didn't mind as much, she felt better with him being out of sight most of the time.

That night, when she went downstairs ready to check on you at Freddy's, he was in the living room, reading the newspaper.

“How's your little friend?” He asked, not lifting his gaze.

“She's fine,” Vanessa answered, maybe more coldly than she should've.

William chuckled, amused, for some reason.

“I've been thinking about placing an ad in the newspaper to look for another security guard.”

“Another?” Vanessa frowned. “Are you going to fire her?”

William lifted his gaze, “you sometimes worry me, Vanessa.”

Vanessa was taken aback by this, but her father didn't elaborate.

She sighed, making her way to the garage. 

Vanessa heard her father say, “have fun,” as she left the room.

She was inside Freddy's in no time. You had developed the habit of leaving the door unlocked, Vanessa knew she probably had to scold you for that, but she honestly couldn't care less.

Vanessa headed to your office, but something stopped her.

Was that the smell of…?

No, she interrupted her train of thought. No, it can't be, it's impossible.

“Is it, though?” A voice inside her head said.

She swallowed, turning around and heading to the storage room.

With her heart beating madly inside, she entered the room.

An incredibly strong and nauseating smell hit her. 

Vanessa recognized the smell easily. 

Putrefaction.

Death.

And there were you. Or rather, what was left of you.

Her heart was beating so fast that she was subconsciously afraid that her blood pressure would drop and she would faint.

Slowly, painfully so, she approached your body.

At first glance, and also thanks to the stench, she could tell this had happened days ago, if not weeks.

How?

You talked with her not too long ago, barely a couple of days had passed.

How? Who?

Vanessa could no longer stand, and her knees gave way.

How? Who? Why?

All she could do was stare at your decomposed body, the dry wounds, the rotten blood, the pale skin. 

It was like seeing the kids again. All over again.

Before she could When he realized it, big tears were sliding down his cheeks and falling to the ground.

This couldn't be happening. Not to you, at least.

It didn't make any sense, one day she had you dancing in her arms, and now you were lying dead on the ground.

Why?

Could she have prevented this?

She never even get to tell you how she felt. She never got to tell you that she liked you.

Vanessa trembled, unable to stop crying. Was this a divine punishment?

Did God see all her atrocities and decided to take action against her?

She tried to brush away the tears, being too harsh.

It hurt. Everything hurt. From her eyes, to her head, and her heart.

Her chest felt tight, she couldn't breathe. No amount of trying was going to compensate for it.

You were dead. But she had seen you, hadn't she?

And that's when she heard footsteps behind her. 

Vanessa snapped her head back, and lo and behold. You were there.

Vanessa choked, trying to say something, anything.

“You're gone,” was the first thing that came out of her mouth, barely audible over her sobs.

You nodded, softly.

She raised her voice, “why didn't you say anything?”

You just stared at her for a moment. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Vanessa stood up on her wobbly legs. 

“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” you say. 

Vanessa looks at your face after what felt like eternity. So that was why you would recoil from her touch. That was why you would never look at her, you would never let her look at you. It was disturbingly obvious now.

Your eyes were basically drained of life, hollow, empty. 

She would have realized something was amiss if you hadn't taken all those precautions.

The tears kept falling.

“I'm sorry,” Vanessa breathed out with a broken voice.

You managed a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. “Don't be. It wasn't your fault.”

She choked on her sobs, her cries getting louder.

“I don't understand,” she choked, “why are you still here?”

You (or rather, your ghost,) looked down, sighing. “I guess what they say it's true. You can't go if you have something pending.”

You approached her. "I guess I should tell you.”

Vanessa looked down at your corpse and then back at your ghost.

“Tell me.”

You sighed, smiling bittersweetly. 

“Let me tell you something else first,” you began. “I still admire you for your decision to become a police officer. I know you think it's nothing. But not for me, because I know you'll help with the investigation. I know you'll report what happened here, and I'll finally get some peace.”

Vanessa swallowed. She wouldn't. She couldn't.

“Anyways, I…” you closed your eyes, and opened them again. “I'm ready to tell you.”

A beat passed.

“I like you, Vanessa.”

Numb. That's the only way she could describe it.

Her hands felt numb after dragging your body through the cold and burying it behind Freddy's, on the empty lot William had bought a few years ago.

Her heart was numb after your confession. 

“I like you.”

It repeated over and over again inside her head, like a broken record.

I like you, I like you, I like you.

If only she could have said, “I like you too,” before your spectrum became nothing more than dust and memories.

If only she had said something before you were killed.

If only she had done anything at all.

She knew exactly who had done it. She couldn't pretend that she didn't see it anymore. 

That night, coming home felt like a nightmare.

Vanessa had barged inside the basement, and screamed at him. At her father.

The one who had taken you away from her.

She screamed, and threw everything she could find at him. She cried, and cried, and cried.

And William remained impassive until he didn't.

Vanessa made the mistake of tearing William's work plans off the wall, and at that moment he finally saw red and revealed himself.

With an incredible amount of force, he grabbed Vanessa and pressed her against his desk.

“What do you think you're doing, you stupid creature? You think throwing a tantrum will bring her back? Do you forget who you are, and who I am?”

William basically spat the words out, Vanessa took a deep breath.

“Look at what you have become,” William narrowed his eyes as he said this.

With a trembling voice, Vanessa replied, “I am what you made me. I am your daughter.”

He growled, “you're unbearable. I want you out of my sight!”

William pushed her out of the basement, and locked himself inside.

A couple of days later, Vanessa was packing everything she owned, including the handkerchief you had given to her that one time, and leaving her dad's house. For good this time.

And a month after escaping her father's shadow, she was changing her last name from Afton to Shelly and enrolling in the police academy.

A/N: Well, that was a ride, wasn't it? Reblogs are appreciated.

#vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #elizabeth lail #william afton

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!

Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx

Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

“I said no.”

Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Give me a reason at least?"

I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?

“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.

“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.

I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”

Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.

“One thing after another with you.”

My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”

The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”

I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it. 

“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.

“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”

I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.

Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.

I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”

With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”

To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep. 

Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.

“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”

Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”

My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.

The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.

I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me. 

Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand. 

But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.

Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.

“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.

“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.

“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”

Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.

Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.

When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.

“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”

I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky. 

“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs. 

“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.

Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”

I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-

“Anyone here?”

I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.

George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”

Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”

“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”

Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”

I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done. 

Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”

Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”

It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.

Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.

See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.

Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard. 

George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more. 

Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.

He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.

I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon. 

The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.

I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.

I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated. 

“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”

George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”

Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”

I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.

Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”

I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”

He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.” 

I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”

I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.

He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”

I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.

During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.

George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.

“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about. 

He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it. 

“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.

Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

“Sorry.”

George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.

“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile. 

“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.

I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.

“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."

I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.

Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.

I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.

“What?”

George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.

“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me. 

Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”

My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”

We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.

“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.

I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”

That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”

George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”

He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.

His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”

I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.

The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.

I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.

You had me from the start  Pulling all the stops out  On the down low, secretly  But I think you knew your psychology  Was working on me  Infatuated  And doing this all wrong  You've got  My number and my name  And you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going  Can I see you every day?  Do you love me  Like I love you?  Ah, you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going

(Song: Ride - Future Love)

It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me. 

I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.

His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.

A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.

Not even a second later my phone was in my hand. 

Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me? 

–

Matty had always had a thing for Sundays. 

There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick. 

No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him. 

There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.

Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.

It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.

Jamie had somehow managed it.

Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.

But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.

It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings. 

He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.

There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.

He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.

Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.

Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.

The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”

Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.

This was it, he supposed.

The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.

He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.

The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.

If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal. 

He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.

It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.

She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.

Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.

The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.

“You can just hang your-”

“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway. 

It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.

“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”

He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him. 

Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”

God, it was so fucking strained.

He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.

“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.

“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”

Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”

She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before. 

But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.

Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv. 

There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.

She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which. 

He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.

He found himself smiling at the thought.

It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.

“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down. 

Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.

“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.

She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”

Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.

“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.” 

Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.

She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”

“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.

“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”

Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”

Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.

“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...” 

He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks. 

She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?” 

“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.

“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”

That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.

Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind. 

“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”

Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.

Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”

Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.

“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.” 

He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”

He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.

“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”

Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.

“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”

“Said what?”

Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”

Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.

Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”

Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.

“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.

“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”

She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.

“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”

Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.

“Then what?”

Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”

Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.

It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.

“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.

“I know.” He answered.

“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.

“I know.”

He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

#the 1975 #fic #matty healy #angst #radio host #reader #x reader #x you #george daniel #ross macdonald #the 1975 band #adam hann #fluff #humour #smut #matty healy fic #matty 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #matty healy x you #ao3 #fame #strangers to lovers #mum reader #kid fic #getting together #SLOWBURN #mutual pining #Warnings #aipoban

[suzukiblu]

One last excerpt from the next chapter of "think pink".

"You're a brat and a bastard," Tim growls. Kon bites his lip and presses in closer to him, and Bernard steps around his back and presses up close to him, covering Tim's hands with his own where they're gripping Kon's hips. 

Kon is perfectly aware that he likes to be sandwiched between attractive people, that fact about himself is in no way new knowledge, but fuck, he really likes that. 

A lot.

"Uh–one more thing, real quick. Can I use my TTK for this or should I like . . . keep a lid on that kinda thing?" he asks quickly before his fucking useless brain can actually melt out his ears, trying not to make the question sound as vulnerable as it feels. It's not that he minds not using his TTK, just . . . it's a little weird, sometimes. Makes him feel like he's not all there and not fully safe. Makes it hard to . . . relax. 

To let go. 

"The TTK's fine by me, yeah," Tim says, and Kon relaxes a little. Okay. That'll help, even if Bernard's not cool with it touching him. 

"TTK? What's that involve?" Bernard asks curiously. His fingers lace through Tim's and brush Kon's hips. They are incredibly, incredibly distracting fingers. 

"Oh, uh, it's tactile telekinesis," Kon says. "So it's like . . . a contact-based telekinetic field that I can manipulate with my mind, basically. People usually tell me it feels like there's a real heavy coat around them. So it can get a little suffocating, I guess?" 

". . . like how heavy a coat are we talking here?" Bernard asks, frowning consideringly. 

"Uh," Kon says. "Honestly, I have no idea, my concept of 'heavy' is seriously not universal. I could show you?" 

"Yeah, okay," Bernard says. 

"Okay," Kon says, and very carefully wraps him up in it. Bernard . . . blinks. 

Tilts his head. 

Blinks again. 

"Too weird?" Kon asks, repressing a reflexive wince, and Bernard just makes a strange little noise and then absolutely fucking melts against his back. 

"Just follow me around and do this for the literal rest of my fucking life, please," he groans feelingly, and Tim laughs. 

"Bernard has a bit of a thing for weighted blankets," he says with barely repressed amusement. "A big thing. So you're probably good to go, Kon." 

"I think this is actually heavier than my good blanket," Bernard says, squeezing Tim's hands and by default Kon's hips in an impressively flustering way. "Like way heavier, oh my god. Man, you and your TTK thing had better be cuddlers once it's afterglow time or I'm gonna fucking sulk." 

"We could possibly be persuaded," Kon gets out just a touch hoarsely, feeling a little weird and heated over the idea that Bernard is not only cool with the TTK but actually, like, likes it. Bernard trails his impressively flustering fingers down over the backs of Tim's knuckles; down lower over Kon's hips. Kon tries not to press into the point of contact quite that easily, but absolutely does. 

Bernard pauses, then tilts his head again. 

"Wait," he says, pressing his fingers in a little tighter against Kon's hips. "Is this like a sexy invitation thing or do you seriously just not wear underwear under your superhero suit?" 

"No?" Kon says, glancing back over his shoulder at him. "Panty lines are a thing, dude." 

". . . Kon, have you literally never worn underwear in the entire time I've known you, aside from during the jeans phase?" Tim asks in a weird voice. 

"I mean . . . pretty much, yeah?" Kon says, flicking his eyes back to him. He'd kinda assumed that was a thing Tim had already noticed. World's second-greatest detective and all. "Usually didn't even then, I didn't really have any and I just kept forgetting to buy it. And like, I'm invulnerable, so chafing isn't really a thing, you know?" 

"Don't you even wear a cup, though?" Bernard asks incredulously. 

"Invulnerable," Kon reminds him. 

"NGH," Tim says. 

"You keep making that noise," Kon observes. 

"Bed," Tim grits out tightly. 

"Bed," Bernard agrees fervently. 

Well, Kon's not gonna argue.

#timberkon #timkon #timber #konbernard #kon el #tim drake #bernard dowd #superboy #dc robin #rinfic #not sfw #well at least the fic at large isn't #wip: think pink

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being DG | Diego Kang's significant other.

Imagine looking at the bright lights of Seoul. Playing a piece of pocky in between your finger as you lean forward against the balcony of his your penthouse. It was peaceful, unlike those back in the days. Placing the flavored pocky stick on your mouth, holding it in between your fingers, you bite it gently. Much better than cigarettes.

Imagine the way you humm a familiar tone, probably one of the songs your lover had done but right now you couldn't careless. After all you're pretty much pissed at the moment but you don't want to act up, you're rather in a good mood today if it wasn't for the stupid shit that is now getting on your nerves. This time you bit off your pocky in a more rapid aggressive manner.

Imagine looking down, this time not focusing on the bright lights along the night of Seoul but the very street right beneath the building. Your kind wondering of would you die or how much would it hurt if you jump off right now. Seriously nothing suicidal but just a random thought. Turning your interest in your hands, you reach out on the table nearby to grab another piece of pocky.

Imagine taking your time in balcony, very much aware of the person unlocking the door at the front, due to your quiet environment you could hear it very well even if you're pretty much away from the door. Glancing behind, you once again put your attention back in the night sky, thinking of a way to mess with the person approaching you with a great speed.

"I can explain." Said the person, your lover who just slammed the glass door to the balcony where you're at. "Oh really?" You didn't dare turn around, you just stay there in your place looking up the the night sky. "What exactly do you need to explain? James." "Fuck." He utter in which you can clearly hear. After all, you only call him by his old name when you're angry, real angry at him and of course you are very well aware of your habit, and you're going to take advantage of it.

"Look, that article is just a lie, I already told my staffs to take care of it. I'm not dating anyone-" "You're not dating anyone? What does that make me? A roommate?" You spoke as you finally turn around to look at him. "Fuck." Your lover curse for the fifth time that night.

Imagine the way you stare at him emotionless as he stood there all in his office attire. Coming all the way from the company to here as soon as he saw the famous year end dating news article which contained a lot of Kpop idols and actors dating couple which happened to have him and someone else involved. Obviously not true, it was a fake news so normally he would give a damn. But that damn person was someone else he's been working with recently as well as the topic of his small arguments with you nowadays.

"I mean, a roommate isn't that bad I suppose. Should we become one starting today?" You chuckle with a shrug. Fuck, you almost burst out laughing at him right now. The look on his face was funny, most of the time he was laid-back so you could barely see him make face other than his usual relax one nowadays. You've only seen him with a smug look on his face back in the days and a laid-back one nowadays. But this look of conflicted, troubled and nervousness really was something new.

"Come on now babe, you know I don't mean it like that." He chuckle nervously as he finally took a step forward towards you, who at the moment seems to be reaching out of the remaining sticks inside the pocky box. "What I'm saying is that the news about me and her dating is fake." He explained, reaching out to touch your face hoping to soothes you but then you turn your head as you went to take a bit of your pocky. "Yeah I know." You spoke casually, taking another bite of your pocky stick.

Imagine being insecure as fuck. It's not like you don't trust him. You knew that article was fake. You really tried your best not to be upset, it was all a fake news after all. You even tried to take it as a joke, wanting to mess around on purpose before taking it back saying it was just a joke. But fuck it. "I knew it was fake."

Imagine the way DG eyes widen, the way he saw those silent tears roll down your face. "Fuck." You on the other hand could not help but to curse as you wipe off your tears. Maybe you were really upset, these days were tiring enough. You barely see your lover around ever since he started managing his new company still you didn't dare complain after all you let him do whatever he wants, you knew better not to stand on his way, even back then, you let him to whatever he wants, because you knew at the end of the day he would always, and will ways come back to you. But these days, you don't know. You don't know anymore.

"Sorry, I was just messing around, I wasn't really upse-" "I'm sorry." "Huh?" You almost took a step back if it aren't for the fact that your back was pressed upon the glass railings of the balcony. "I've been neglecting you for a while now, haven't I?" He look away like he's ashamed to even look at you in the eyes. "I'm sorry." He repeated, this time having the guts to meet your (eye color) iris.

Imagine the way you just stood there, unmoving before he pull you into a hug. You don't even know why, but as soon as he did hug you, the next thing you knew, you were hugging him back as you cried in his arms. Maybe it was because of the article, maybe its because you rarely seen him nowadays, maybe it's because you just miss him so much more than you could have imagined. "Can you stay for the night? James?" "You don't have to ask." He spoke stroking your hair.

Imagine the way he mind it when other people, mostly people whom knew him from the past calls him by his old name. But not when it comes to you, never when it comes to you. After all, in every goal he has and does. There was you waiting at the very end of it.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2022°

#dg x reader #lookism #lookism dg #lookism dg x reader #lookism imagines #james lee #diego kang #deigo kang x reader #lookism x reader #lookism fanfic #he's pretty #like dang pretty prettier than me #but then there does his name but okay okay okah

[all-my-writings-and-musings]

What's this, another prompt?

Yes, I cannot be stopped.

For those of you who are new to this, I have predone writing prompts and you can request which character to see in them next, and I'll write a short story for it following your specifications! I have another that involves the reader falling and needing rescue,which so far I've done for Ne Zha, Yin, and Macaque. If you like either of those and want to see a specific character next, or have an idea of your own, you can request stories or headcanons in my inbox!

Sleepy Prompt

After pushing themselves too hard for too long, the reader still refuses to sleep, resulting in the character who's crushing on them stepping in to force them to get some rest.

Sun Wukong X Reader

"The reader has had a long and exhausting week, but refuses to cancel on plans with Wukong, who is easily able to see through their sleepiness and intervenes."

It was a good thing your hoverbike had autopilot, because you were most certainly too tired to drive. Promising your body that rest was coming eventually, you resisted the pull of sleep even as the cool evening hair whooshing by your head tempted you by weighing down your eyelids… Shaking your head to temporarily banish the worst of the sleepiness, you focused on your destination; Flower Fruit Mountain. The lush jungle looked more picturesque than ever in the golden evening light, and you promised yourself the night of fun would be well worth feeling a bit tired. You'd powered through an incredibly exhausting week for this…

Following the predetermined path inside the cave, the hoverbike slowed to a gentle hum as it lost most of its speed. A group of monkeys below grew very excited at your arrival, jumping and hollering as you landed beside the cozy little cottage where their king was waiting. Smiling sleepily at their welcome, you tried not to yawn when the bike touched down and shut itself off, still convincing yourself you could stay awake for whatever evening the Monkey King had planned.

"Hey, you made it!" a cheery voice greeted you from the doorway, waving enthusiastically as he stepped out to greet you. Removing your helmet and stepping off the bike to meet him halfway, you fumbled in your sleepiness, nearly tripping until Wukong all but teleported to your side to steady you. While casual as always, he did allow a bit of worry to creep into his voice as he gently pressed you for an explanation. "You uh, feeling alright?"

"Yeah, totally!" you replied, trying not to blush at how ridiculously quickly you'd been caught. He was the Great Sage, sure, but you hadn't even gotten in the door and he was already suspicious. Gulping under his golden gaze, you tried to play down the situation instead of lying. "Just a little tired. It's been a busy few days, you know?"

"Uh huh…" he deadpanned, one brow rising as he released you to cross his arms. The Monkey King seemed to see right through you, and knew just how tired you were pretending not to be. A sassy flick of his tail made you fully aware he knew what you were trying to hide.

Closing his eyes, Wukong thought on that for a moment, giving you some hope he'd accept and the two of you could go on pretending everything was fine. You'd simply feel too guilty if you bailed to get some sleep. Opening his eyes once again, he looked you up and down before shrugging and holding up his hands helplessly. "Well then, how about now?"

"Seriously, I'm fine!" you assured, refusing to give up on the fun evening you'd promised him. "I can catch up on my sleep debt any time, it's no big deal."

"What?" you asked, having no time before he was scooping you up without hesitation or effort. Unable to resist, you only called out in shock as he hopped on a cloud to carry the two of you inside in a flash. It was all you could do to cling to him as you floundered for an explanation. "Whoa, hey! Wukong-"

You were in his bedroom before you could blink, and suddenly his plan became quite clear. Setting you down atop the somewhat disheveled comforter, the Monkey King put a gentle but encouraging hand on your shoulder to compel you to stay down. There was a gentle plea behind his joking. "Don't worry, you can thank me later."

"I don't need to-"

"Yes, you do. I'm not even mortal, and do you know what I'd be like if I didn't get my ten hours of beauty sleep?" he insisted, standing up to reach for the lamp and turn off the light. When the room dipped into pleasant darkness, it became that much harder to resist sleep, especially with his impossibly soft bed beneath you. You didn't even have the energy to laugh at his little quip… but goodness, you didn't want to sleep yet. Despite all of your exhaustion, you'd been looking forward to this evening so much, and didn't want to disappoint him…

The same golden eyes that had seen right through you softened, and he leaned down to speak more directly to you, lowering his voice and smiling reassuringly. He knew you well enough to be quite aware of your reluctance to care for yourself. "Do me a solid, and get some shut eye. We can hang out after you've rested up."

"Maybe I'll just take a nap…" you conceded at last, yawning as your head sunk into the soft pillow below. It was like laying down on your own personal cloud…

"Sure." he agreed with a chuckle. There were soft footsteps as he moved across the room, but you could hear what he was doing even after your eyes drifted shut. A small window went dark as he adjusted the screens, a drawer was pulled open, something fabric was unfurled… You were just awake enough to register the blankets as they were pulled up over your shoulders. He sounded more tender than you'd ever heard him be as he whispered softly into your ear. "Here, it gets pretty cold in here at night…"

Warmth made it that much harder for you to resist sleep, and you didn't even have the capacity to offer your thanks. The Monkey King didn't need them. Smiling down at you, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before offering one final whisper. It was impossible for him to ignore how good it felt to ensure you were taken care of, or how peaceful you looked drifting off in his bed.

"Sleep tight, alright?"

#lego monkie kid #lmk #monkie kid #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong #lmk x reader #lmk fanfiction #sun wukong x reader #the monkey king #lmk monkey king #monkey king #monkey king x reader #lmk x y/n #sun wukong lmk #sleepy prompt #human reader #self insert #fluff #fic request #reqs open

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

babe wake up androgynouspenguinexpert posted another character analysis from the train during her finals week because she's banned herself from drawing anything new

its time to tackle vega, because he's cool.

all of the characters carry a unique narrative theme or motif - the importance of self worth for gavin, impostor syndrome for asher, consent and control for marcus, etc. vega's theme is one of, if not my favourite: nature vs nurture, learned behaviour, and the morality of necessary evil.

vega doesn't start out as a moustache-twirling villain, but he's certainly hurting people for selfish reasons. however - the line between right and wrong starts to blur even across vega's first few appearances. as he points out himself later, vega has essentially created a closed loop of suffering to feed from. yeah, he got someone roofied and kidnapped, which is bad, but he's limited his victims to two people. ivan and baby. there's even a case to be made about baby's safety - ivan is volatile and incredibly dangerous (breaking either glass or ceramic with his bare hands???), but we never see him physically harm baby other than restraining them.

vega's age (pin this) has granted him an incredible level of experience and therefore intellect. he's probably the smartest piece on the board right now, save maybe for brachium (but he's sort of on a board of his own anyway). vega knows exactly what he is. he feeds on suffering and agony, and there's nothing that can change that. equipped with this knowledge, vega has managed to streamline the production of agony without really getting his hands dirty, and basically guaranteed the survival of both people involved.

then in comes caelum. he accidentally discovers vega's operation, and immediately runs to freelancer for help. vega proceeds to kick the shit out of caelum for snitching, and almost kills him. again, this is bad. i'm definitely not defending vega's actions here - but think of it from his point of view: he's set up a way of passively producing agony and is minding his own business. a daemon who is 24 (at time of writing) stumbles across this, and immediately threatens to shut it down as well as get him arrested. that's like a toddler walking in on a meth lab and running to the cops. vega probably could drop everything and relocate to avoid the department, but that would take a lot more time and effort than just soccer kicking the toddler over a fence. so he tries, and fails, because gavin steps in. gavin being able to overpower vega - despite being potentially hundreds of thousands of years younger - speaks to the inefficiency of vega's agony system, and he's smart enough to be well aware of that. agony (in a relatively nice part of california, anyway) isn't really a renewable resource like lust or joy are. harming someone, whether physically or otherwise, enough to fuel vega for any significant amount of time would either permanently damage or kill that person. that's not sustainable.

and then vega gets arrested. the human government asks a being probably older than civilisation to pinkie promise he'll stay in a little concrete box for a while. vega explains later that he doesn't believe in unnecessary violence - unless he decides that it is necessary, i guess - so he probably went along with his arrest fairly peacefully. there's another analysis in here somewhere about where (or from whom...?) the department learned its containment methods, considering they haven't really figured out aria yet.

but anyway - vega gets tossed into maximum security. and even from behind the ward, he's finding subtle (and less subtle) ways to stir the pot, especially with his new department-assigned therapist (another quick aside that's too good for the tags; did anyone else find it super fucking funny that vega's first real friend on elegy is his therapist?). i think vega feels neutral about elegy, leaning ever so slightly towards liking it, but he knows what he is. a demon. vega never was, and never will be, human. that's why he never audibly speaks (which is a fantastic detail) - he's rejecting the most basic form of modern human communication. language. yes, he knows english, but he's probably never spoken a single word out loud. vega's fear of daemons growing away from their roots is also why he starts testing for cracks in the warden's façade - he's worried that daemons are starting to assimilate a little too much. they're losing their identity as a separate species, and losing sight of the sacrifices made during the cacophony. and he's right - the cacophony has entirely faded into myth. his suffering and loss has now been turned into a fable; a cautionary tale about dealing with forces beyond our control.

next is the escape, which is both interesting and sick as hell. vega proves that he's not a fan of violence for the sake of violence by mincing some solitaires, tossing an unconscious warden over his shoulder, and escaping the detention facility. this is vega's first real selfless action. he definitely could have left the warden to the solitaires, but chooses to save them because of their compassion towards him. this shows a little of vega's internal struggle - he's never been around unconditional like, let alone love, because he doesn't need to. he needs to be unlikeable. manipulative. cutthroat. these are the things that keep him safe, but more importantly fed. we know from his imperium counterpart (who will eventually be getting a post of his own) that vega wants to be wanted. as much as he denies it and dodges the topic when it's brought up, vega is not intrigued by the warden because he can toy with them. he's drawn to them because they're willing to understand. they're hesitant, but for now they're giving vega the benefit of the doubt. he's never been given that before.

he also starts to wear down the warden's already fragile sense of morality with the kidnapped department officer. although his methods are very questionable, vega is correct again when he explains that he doesn't really have a choice. he won't hurt the guard, and the guard can't hurt him or the warden, but will keep spewing out hate that vega can feed on for the forseeable future. he's killing two birds with one stone as well - the warden is an inchoate. it's far easier for vega to track down (read: kidnap) one racist than to juggle the emotional intake of two people.

i don't think vega is just trying to break the warden out of their department mould for the sake of shenanigans, nor does he want to return to the glory days - vega knows that humanity and daemonkind are now inseperable after the imprisonment of the sovereigns.

he just doesn't want daemons - genuinely good people trying to make the best of a not fantastic situation - to lose sight of what they are. what they used to be. not anarchists, or pawns for the department. starchildren.

forgive me. i tend to wax poetic.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted vega #MAN i love vega he's so cool no matter what he's in #and the warden just waltzes into his cell with a clipboard and an i can fix him complex strong enough to drag satan himself up from hell #the slow swap from warden to darling is going to take me out #idk man vega can blow up armoured vehicles with his mind but also he's such an old fashioned romantic methinks #alexa play put you through me by arrows in action #also i might possibly maybe have playlists for most of these bastards #maybe ill share em someday

[genericpuff]

I think praising someone (Mongie) considering her incredibly racist comments and disrespectful behavior towards nonwhite fans, simply because she isn’t Rachel, is a bit gross

? I mean, yeah I agree with you, she's acted very immaturely and cruel towards her nonwhite fans. I'm assuming this has to do with my post talking about mongie's announcements at NYCC with her getting an anime? (if not please link me to the specific post for context). I don't really see any of that as 'praising her', more so just acknowledging the fact that she at least had the balls to step away from WT when she knew it wasn't working for her anymore, and the fact that she's managed to succeed separate from WT thus proving that it is, in fact, possible to succeed in this industry without relying on one single platform. The comparison to Rachel was more so just to prove a point that LO is in development hell lmao

I was more so just trying to praise the action in and of itself, not praising mongie for being a good person. I'm very aware of and have talked about her issues involving her racist opinions (the Vicky incident especially), I don't think her not being Rachel makes her a good person or good creator by default and that's not the point I was trying to get across. I'm not interested in continuing to read her work (like with LO I used to be a huge fan of Let's Play until it fell tf off in S3, then I found out about all the racism) but I can acknowledge the fact that she found a way to break out of the mould of Webtoons because I think that's something that should be talked about so that others can see it is possible to survive outside of Webtoons (not just for the aspiring creators, but also for the Originals creators who have spoken up about feeling 'stuck' with Webtoons because they don't feel like they can succeed without WT). It's just a shame it was, y'know, the person who has treated her fanbase like shit and acted out over very valid criticisms of her depictions of nonwhite characters. That's pretty much all I was trying to get across, it's not much more complicated than that lmao Weird analogy but it's like when you smell something cooking that smells really good and then you find out that it involves ingredients you can't stand LOL

But hey, you do raise a good point that highlighting the success of someone who's shitty towards their readers and how they write nonwhite characters is just giving them more press and recognition, so let's use this opportunity to highlight a not problematic creator who also found success in this industry while never once being an Originals creator - Alice Oseman! Heartstopper is wonderful and beautifully written especially in its characterizations and depictions of queer relationships and identities, the Netflix adaption is very warm and comforting to watch, and Alice herself seems like someone who I'd love to have coffee with if I ever had the chance. Go read/watch Heartstopper y'all , and remember to include non-Originals creators in your search for good comics to read <3 I'll probably make an actual post about Heartstopper sometime because I still need to watch the second season of the show and I'm sure I'll have plenty to gush about after I watch it just like I did with the first :' )

#honestly a lot of this goes for rachel too #like if she acknowledged how her series got preferential treatment from WT #or spoke up about how WT treats the creators that aren't her #or even took responsibility for how LO has affected the greek myth community #those are things i would respect out of her even if i still didn't like her afterwards #but she HASN'T taken that accountability and there isn't any sign that she ever will lmao #that said idk if i entirely believe mongie's reasoning for leaving WT #she claims it was due to unfair treatment but fr LP was second to LO in how much advertising it got #and she was REALLY pushing the boundaries of what she was allowed to get away with on the platform #i think it's great she's proving that success can be found outside of WT #but yeah it sucks that it's her specifically finding success considering how shitty she's been in the past #there are too many shitty people getting all the glory in these industries #lore olympus critica #webtoon critical #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[flightfoot]

I know I’m in the minority of people who like Hermes in the original PJO series so I’m staying on anon here because of it. To be honest, I always saw him as morally gray.

My take on the ‘gods can’t change’ statement; isn’t him justifying his mistakes and saying that he’s unwilling to change. If that were true, he wouldn’t give Percy a list of his children and ask him to bring them to camp or even admit he was wrong about how he treated Annabeth and Luke at the end of TLO. I think he feels perpetually trapped. Forced to go through the motions and then dealing with such a difficult situation. That regardless of the actions that he takes; others are bound to get hurt. His family especially. He doesn’t want to risk that. He doesn’t want them harmed and he knows that he’s a bit of a coward for not being able to stand up to Zeus. I think the idea that gods can’t change is more like I am beginning to think that my family will never change. That despite all my best efforts and my own changing; it still won’t make much of a difference. He’s basically nihilistic in this situation and has given up hope. As the god tasked with keeping the peace without Hestia’s help; he may feel helpless. I think he loved Luke but at the time he believed that no one could go against the Fates. Not even him. That by protecting him, it would make his relationship with Luke worse or doom everyone involved to a worse fate. He lost his lover Krokos to a tragic fate. His mother too. Same with May and others. I doubt he wants them to suffer like that. To grieve again. It’s always better for him to be the bad guy to those hurt by Olympus than for people to blame his family or themselves.

tw. racism and mental health

I guess I was the one weird kid who kind of understood where the god was coming from. My home life wasn’t great and I was forced to be my family’s peacekeeper. I had to be what everyone wanted me to be otherwise I lost opportunities. I wouldn’t get a job, have friends etc.. I had to be a model minority being Asian American. I protested and fought. Had quiet rebellions, but no one ever listened. I needed someone to listen. Not necessarily agree but hear me. I see that with Hermes.

I can understand people disagreeing. I respect differences in opinions. I am just tired of seeing Hermes as only pure evil and irredeemable content. He’s an important god and I feel like I’m the only one who likes this character. I think maybe it’s best that I stop engaging with the RR fandom for a bit. I am just too invested in something that should just be fun and easygoing.

...most people don't like Hermes in the original PJO series? I did, quite a bit. Like, he wasn't perfect, but he really DID care about what was going on with Luke, and he seemed self-aware about how shitty the situation was for demigods. His attitude in TLO reminded me of Apollo's in the later TOA books (there's a reason I made him and Artemis allies in my Gods' Eye View series. Well, that and because he and Apollo are besties in mythology).

And yeah I mean, Hermes isn't the only immortal to espouse the view that they can't change, Apollo and Bob claimed the same thing (which was especially laughable in Bob's case). It seems pretty ingrained in immortal thinking, even with how clearly wrong it is.

I ascribe to your view of Hermes' thinking and attitude. He seems bitter and helpless at the end of TLO, honestly believing that things won't change, and just... he seems like he's given up. He cares, but he doesn't expect to be able to change anything.

And yeah, stepping back from the RR fandom may be good for a bit, in this case, since sadly in my experience, fandoms tend to continue happily vilifying characters. I haven't seen a lot of people being all that serious about it with Hermes, but I haven't really seen much Hermes content for PJO more generally, since I'm mostly in the Trials of Apollo sphere and he only gets a cameo there.

#ask #hermes #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

[shuttershocky]

I want to go into gamedev, but the horror stories about crunch culture are really concerning to me since I'm chronically ill and struggling just to get through school. Your posts are reassuring when it comes to the latter issue, but I'm still not sure if working in gamedev is feasible with this kind of health. I doubt the crunch situation has improved any either, but what do you think?

Yeah I'm going to have to be honest with you, that sounds incredibly difficult. But it's not impossible.

You'll almost definitely want to work for a smaller indie studio than a big corporate one since they're less likely to put you through crunch, though even those aren't free of the occasional horror story, usually when a big name is involved.

The first studio I worked for after graduating college was founded by devs who specifically worked to avoid crunch due to their experiences working on a certain big name AAA title, but even then sudden deadlines, changes, or critical mistakes led to us hauling ass on a few weekends. There's just so many things that can go wrong in game development even when there's very little human error and you're almost always beholden to someone else's schedule whether that's publisher milestones or investors. You'll need to be extremely lucky with your jobhunt if gamedev is how you want to make your living while chronically ill.

That being said, even if your circumstances don't let you find work in gamedev, you don't have to give up your love for it. There's plenty of simple, one-person indie games that people have made on their own time outside of work, and that's not going into how having these projects can look really good on your portfolio if you ever feel like trying again.

And you know, maybe things will get better in the future. Probably not for triple A, but I'm seeing way more smaller studios than before who are aware of the dangers of crunching and take steps to avoid it, rather than wearing it as a badge of pride like many devs did a decade ago to prove how 'passionate' they were.

There are a ton of people pushing to improve the industry every day. In my own job we've strictly implemented no working on weekends, and when working with partners I always negotiate for a delay rather than a rush as soon as a deadline begins to look unfeasible. I do see some real change happening, even if it's not as fast as it should be.

Maybe someday, probably not tomorrow, but someday, we won't need to talk about topics like these anymore. I'm hopeful for it. I'm sick of hearing the number 1 advice of game devs being "Don't go into game dev". It's true, it being true sucks ass, and it doesn't have to be true.

[putschki1969]

No matter how much I love Wakana and how good "Flag" is, it's just too pitiful to see, how she grasping at straws after getting a rare good reaction on her song. I'm just literally sad. She was so eager to try herself in solo and I can't understand what she was doing all that time, while dreaming about her solo. Puts, what are your thoughts on that matter?

Hmm, I couldn't disagree more. I feel like we are not on the same wavelength here. In my opinion, her actions aren't pitiful at all. Why pitiful??

Yes, the reception to "Flag" has been overwhelmingly positive but I don't believe this has ever been a case of Wakana resting on the laurels of her success. And I certainly don't understand how releasing the song digitally could be misinterpreted as "grasping at straws" or a last desperate attempt to milk this success. I would argue that the digital release is something that fans have wanted for a very long time so basically they are doing us a favour. And from what I can tell, most of us are grateful about the announcement.

It honestly makes sense that they waited so long with the release because they had probably always intended to use it as a juicy sampling for the upcoming 3rd album 『そのさきへ (Sono Saki e)』 in May. It's good to have a crowd-puller to promote an album when all other tracks are basically new and unreleased.

As for Wakana's pseudo-"hiatus". Please let's not forget that many artists were hit hard by the pandemic, Wakana being no exception. Concerts and events had to be postponed or cancelled, lots of regular promotional activities had to be completely stopped. Getting together for big productions was made impossible. People were losing their jobs left and right because no one was hiring them. These past few years were definitely no walk in the park. Of course any management or label would hesitate to fund a proper album release in such dire and uncertain times. Wakana is no high-profile name who is sure to bring in a ton of profit so the risk of suffering major losses with an album release like that is pretty big. You may not be aware of this but the production value for Wakana's albums has always been quite high (especially compared to most of the stuff we've gotten from Keiko or Hikaru) so finishing one of those things takes more time and money than you would expect. It's never a good idea to force a release just because you want to stick to a certain schedule. You wanna make sure to dot all your i's and cross your t's before committing to such a big project. The situation with the pandemic is finally calming down and Japan is even loosening all of their mask regulations so this offers a wide range of opportunities for Wakana and her team (e.g. media appearances, release events, tours, etc). Waiting this long for a 3rd album was definitely a struggle for all of us fans but ultimately, it was probably the best decision they could have made in these circumstances.

So yeah, these are my thoughts on the matter. Wakana was holding regular events so it's not like she disappeared from the face of the earth. I am sure she was dying to make more music and share it with us but if not everyone involved in the process is willing to take the necessary steps, there is no way an album is gonna be made - unless of course you want to release something half-assed into the world (however, that sort of quantity-over-quality method is clearly not working for Keiko so why would it work for Wakana?).

#kalafina #wakana #reply #Flag #そのさきへ #wakana solo work #rant #kinda #Sono Saki e

[eclipse15]

This isn't a vent, and I'll try to be as vague as possible. TWs such as talk of RAMCOA and programming (nothing indepth)

Im a hc-did system, and im aware of us having been part of a cult. Through some work, we've been able to uncover certain memories. From what we know, we can tell our family was involved. I know as a fact, due to all the evidence we have. But even still, I have my doubts, and I'm not sure why. But we still live with them, unfortunately, for now at least. I wanted to ask for resources about programs, and just ramcoa in general. I sesrch your blog for whats there, and I know some things are dangerous out tgeir being spread on the internet. I don't want to step over any bounderies, but would it be okay to DM you? For questions, resources, etc. We're trying our best to heal, and to stop programs the best we can. But you can't just use a google search and find everything you need so easily, lol. And I know you're not a professional, and there's only so much you can do as well, one person. (Bodily, I mean. Im making jokes to lighten up the mood a little.) But you seem to know a lot more than we do, or the very few people we've come across. I'd appreciate any sort of help, even if its just a few more resources. We'd ask for help from a therapist for resources, but withus living in such a small town where everyone just about knows each other, you can't really tell if its all still going and who's a part of it, yknow? Thank you for everything you have, and continue, to share. It means a lot to us. Keep pushing guys, you've got this. I hope life is treating you well, and if not, that it gets better.

Hey yeah sorry for not answering this sooner. Feel free to DM me we can talk more there. Stay safe above all else and don’t over extend yourself mentally. Again please DM me

#🐢 #🧩 #did alter #did osdd #osddid #polyfragmented #polyfrag #polyfrag system #ramcoa #actually mentally ill #endos dni #hc did

[alwaysmicado]

hi micado!

i just found your blog and devoured all chapters of you wanted this. it seems that i entered the angst era immediately? 😂 (don't get me wrong i loved it)

the reader is so relatable, we thought we are broken, but deep down still have a tiny hope that someone told otherwise? tht's why i feel so complicated on fwb!joel

from a 3rd person view, i can get why he did this. although he continuously claimed he won't pressure her into anythg, he is a human being and got feeling afterall. he probably didn't have a clear target for this action, maybe a mixture of frustration/want to push her (no matter what a man "claimed" i.e. greedy)/confused then go with the flow to move on/etc. part of him doubted her feeling to himself, another part of him believed she loved him. either way, he took this as a good method to test or push her (he thought himself know her enough to push her in appropriate timing, from previous chapter). i can believe he didn't mean to hurt her (i even believe him hesitant till the last minute at gas station - whether really doing that/telling her), but made a wrong decision with a wrong estimation under a wrong circumstance so getting the worst outcome.

however, i do think he DESERVES it. even he didn't aware and he THOUGHT himself not taking her trust light, by contrast, he kind of take her adoration and trust as - i won't say for granted, but something he earned and won't lose anymore. he thought the "on a date" thing is a nothing-to-lose gambling, result in he wins her or keep the current status. on his imaginary timeline, the few previous occasions were proof of her feeling to him such that "she needs my push", the increase of intimacy is fuel for him to send both of them "make a decision, don't pretend anymore" (perhaps it's also a limit for him - close but can't have her - from his view, should give himself an exit to move on, whatsoever, so one more accusation on him - selfish). on her timeline, this was a process to give her trust, in baby step. she needed to fight her internal struggles, convinced herself a lot to succumb to him. at the point she accumulated enough courage to hesitantly let go of the handrail, he swept her legs 😳😒

(sorry i tried to be more organised but failed lol, that stupid guy affected me i guess 😂...... ) thanks for this story and can't wait to read the next chapter 💛

Hi Rachel! 😍

Thank you so much for your wonderful message omg!! 🥹 I'm so beyond happy and grateful that you're enjoying the series, took the time to write down your thoughts and feelings, and that you're sharing them with all of us! 🤍🤍🤍

I can totally see where you're coming from with the idea that Joel told reader about the date to see her reaction and finally get confirmation if she really does like him more than she's willing to admit. Because, as you said, he might have been at a point where he wanted to give her the final push to finally clear things up. And then it backfired and he hurt her.

I'm not confirming or denying that that's what Joel's plan was / that's what happened, but I think it's an interesting theory based on everything we know. 👀

on her timeline, this was a process to give her trust, in baby step. she needed to fight her internal struggles, convinced herself a lot to succumb to him. at the point she accumulated enough courage to hesitantly let go of the handrail, he swept her legs 😳😒

Yeah, that's exactly what happened! 🫣 You said it perfectly: it was a (difficult) process to give him more and more of her trust as time went on, and in the end she still got hurt.

(sorry i tried to be more organised but failed lol, that stupid guy affected me i guess 😂...... ) thanks for this story and can't wait to read the next chapter 💛

Thank you soooo much for reading and being involved and enjoying the series, Rachel! 🫶☺️ I really really appreaciate it!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#ask #fwb!joel miller x f!reader #fwb!joel miller #series: you wanted this #thank you so much for your reading!! <3

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

gods sometimes I hate that I can't think about Palestine, about everything going on in the world, 24/7.

I ask myself "well why not? why not just think about that stuff and school and chores? why does fUCKING FANDOM and special interests eat your life and personality like this? don't you have any empathy?"

and I know the answer. I know its because there have been MANY times in my life where I've taken my own advice and tried to think about "the issues" 24/7. I became a total asshole. angry, stupid, often self-destructive. I didn't make any change or contribution besides starting fights with strangers online, and any effort I DID make to contribute irl just led to so many messes that the people who were actually helping then had to step aside and clean up.

the times I'm most capable of help are when I'm able to keep a balance between awareness of the problems in the world, with other stuff (both fandom and just like... homework n shit). it feels SO wrong and SO un-natural to actively prioritize fandom, but I've tried the "right" way so much and been such a dick and done a good bit of harm.

and I've tried the "wrong" way this past year and done more good/participated more than ever.

results speak for themselves.

and ik everyone does activism differently.

I'm obviously not gonna break any boycotts, holy shit no. I'm still attending protests and making posters/art for local activist movements and doing what I can when I can.

its just so tempting to put 99.99999% of myself into REALLY feeling that grief and rage and helplessness... but again. I know, yknow?

I know how that ends. I may feel righteous and empathetic and, honestly, Cool(tm), but I'm not doing shit for anyone

if mainlining destiel into my brainstem lets me show up for protests and make art and do all of that while NOT being a total bag of dicks...

ugh. it just feels fucking weird

(& yes, I did try the "really feel it, no self-anesthetizing with fandom and no distancing myself from it on purpose" approach as recently as this fall. after physically forcing myself to not send threats to kill strangers' pets, exposing my unmasked face to cameras while chalking a govt building, being kinda socially inappropriate and considering vandalism, i realized that it does in fact still make me an asshole.)

like I feel guilty about purposefully distancing myself for these issues, but also simultaneously understand from past experience that this is the best way for me to make actual, meaningful contributions. its weird.

if i go full-in on Understanding(tm) it, I FEEL morally/spiritually superior, and sure, it MIGHT make me a better activist, but years of experience tell me that, despite how I'm perceiving myself in that moment, it wont.

if I keep distancing myself, ie LITERALLY PURPOSEFULLY seeking out fandom/yt brainrot/Shiny Happy Things to AVOID thinking about it, I do more. I'm involved more, go to more protests, meetings, talk to friends about it.

...that is the reverse of how those things should work.

I think this may be the same kind of reason I don't do existentialism or organized religion. there are some things, really deep or emotional things, that if I think abt them too hard I get stuck EXTREMELY far up my own ass in how I can "only" think of these things or else I'm "awful"

but that's it. its all just thinking. and feeling. and not acting.

...I guess I'll go back to obsessing over my little shows and ships, making actual contributions to anti-genocide, anti-colonialism, pro-palestine efforts

and wondering why the FUCK I'm like this.

...also ok tbh my desire for some kind of moral or spiritual depth/fulfillment/righteousness/forgiveness???? via immersing myself in the experience of VICTIMS OF ONGOING GENOCIDE to try to understand their experience is uhhh

creepy.

especially given that its at the direct detriment of my actual activism and to the emotional harm of peers and fellow activists.

yeah hm actually that is just kind of creepy. and not helpful.

#tw personal #personal #tw vent #vent #rant #tw rant #palestine #activism #internal struggles #i keep thinking im lying to myself just to have an excuse to not care #but looking at my activism when i engage “fully” vs when i dont #the difference is STAGGERING. “not engaging fully” seems to lead to much fuller engagement and idfk WHY #i think theres a part of me that sees stuff happening and ppl suffering and goes “I HAVE TO FIX THAT. I. ME.” #“if i cant fix that now. i can actually. it hurts too much” #and that part of me is rly self-destructive and not a team player #that part of me can stay in fandom. so the more grounded and collaborative part of me can do activism. #i am NOT. a GOOD PERSON. to LEAD THINGS #but IF i engage with these issues fully. I WILL TRY. and it will go POORLY. #Get My Head Out Of My Ass hours

[asterlizard]

2023

I have kinda mixed feelings about this year. There were some low points, but then there were some high points too.

I was mostly busy with almost nonstop dogsitting sessions and zine work, but they really ate away at my personal time, especially during the middle of the year. On top of that, I kept job hunting for the first half of the year but it was going nowhere. It really broke my spirit, to the point where just thinking about job hunting made me feel depressed, and I needed to step away from it. All of this combined, I dealt with burnout, discouragement, feeling lost, and stressed to the point of developing a excessive hand-washing compulsion during the summer, which I'm still trying to shake off. I wonder if I also lost a bit of myself along the way, often not feeling absorbed in the moment.

And yeah, this low period also showed in my art summary for the year. I only published a few sketches if they weren't zine works.

That being said!

It wasn't until December that things felt like they were starting to get back on track. I finally got a chance to draw for myself again, and I think the interest I had in this showed in these last few pieces. I felt a lot more comfortable drawing these pieces. I was also finishing tasks in December when I wanted to finish them, and I'm now feeling more accomplished and less ashamed of myself.

On another note, we had great weather this year! There were no wildfires to watch out for (at least, that I was aware of), no nearby smoke or really bad air quality, and not much hot weather! Also lots of rain and cool weather in the first half of the year, it was really pleasant! It really helped with our drought crisis!

As for other accomplishments:

I went travelling for the first time since lockdown! (though even with official safety precautions being relaxed, I still continued to be careful)

I finished pieces for 5 zines: -DanganParty: A Birthday Party zine -Fly!!: A Haikyuu zine -Tsukuyomi: A Tokoyami zine -Celestial Night: A Sailor Moon zine -Wintertide: A BNHA zine

Started some serious cleanup, both at home and on the computer

Going to the cinema again for the first time since lockdown!

I turned 30, which does feel kinda weird because I certainly don't feel like I'm that age. I spent some time while I was 29 kinda fretting about it, but if it makes me feel a bit better, 30 is technically the last year of the 20s. I felt like more could have been done in my 20s that I would look more fondly on like I would for my first two decades, but then again I was dealing with hardship and then healing during my 20s (though it wasn't all bad) I can only hope that I can make my 30s more what I want.

Now then, onto the resolutions:

Image descriptions: Because my mind was preoccupied due to working on other things, I never got around to making any image descriptions this year. On top of that, I ran into a dilemma on where to put these descriptions (do I use alt text? or do I keep writing it in the text box because I hear the alt text can be buggy?) Hopefully I can find a solution and make good progress this year.

Language learning: I think I progressed well in my Japanese learning this year (I watched a video of a N5 test review, and I only got a couple of mistakes, so I think I qualify? Not a huge accomplishment, but it still feels good to pass some kind of level) I'd like to add another resource that involves writing or speaking, if not communicating with someone (that'd be a difficult goal, since I'd need to figure out where to find a conversation partner)

Storywriting: I'm in the middle of writing my next chapter for KalChi, though burnout created a roadblock for me. The chapter after that should be a bit easier though, so I'd like to get more than one chapter published this year. Also… I have another story I'd like to get started on soon (hopefully I'll have news about this in the 4th quarter of the year) I'd also like to try and find a proper website to put my stories on, such as Wordpress. I'm open to suggestions!

Other fun things: Find more things to do outside of what I normally do. It got a bit monotonous for me this year, and I was really itching to see some local stuff again.

Relax: This is the most important! I made this my resolution last year, but I didn't follow it at all, and I think I did worse this year in regards to self care. I really want to plan out my personal time better so I'm not either rushing to get a lot done at once or feeling bored out of my mind.

I also want to continue to keep up with friends! I think I did a little better this year, but our main issue was schedule coordination. But I feel like my ability to communicate has suffered a bit, so I need to keep that up too.

I want to remind myself that making an effort can make a positive difference and not to give up, so I'm once again adding a link to some good things that happened in the world this year: [link]

I have a feeling 2024 is going to be a big year, at least in the world. Maybe the same will be true for me as well, at least in a positive way (though I won't push myself too hard) So I also hope that you stay safe and take care of yourself too. I wish the best for you 💕

#my posts

[orcboxer]

So I read it when I was younger and didnt really get it. I read it again about a year ago and it rocked my world. I dont thinki got the intended message, but I had just found out that my parents had abused my sister while we were growing up. I'm the golden child and had a great childhood. I had no idea that my sister had such a terrible one. Reading that helped me cut contact with my parents. I couldn't undo her abuse but I could stop benefitting from it. You know?

Yeah I can totally see what you mean. I won't go into detail on my own childhood but it absolutely is one of those things where like, you can't just Fix It, as an individual, but you can leave. And I think you did get the right idea from it honestly. More thoughts below:

The fascinating thing about Omelas is the question of credibility. The narrator first describes what sounds like a beautiful idyllic paradise of sorts and asks if you can believe in Omelas, and of course most people can't, because it's too perfect, it sounds at first as though it's devoid of suffering, so in terms of suspension of disbelief, you haven't really bought into Omelas yet. But then the narrator is like, "If you still don't believe it could have all these wonderful things, then how about this," and proceeds to describe a horrible evil injustice. And now the reader finds that everything else about Omelas is finally credible. Now Omelas can exist. And to some unknown extent, the people of Omelas are aware of this. If the reader cannot believe in Omelas, a fictional place, then Omelas does not exist, so in a meta sense, the citizens of Omelas are correct -- without the horrible suffering, Omelas would be destroyed.

But then the meta-narrative and actual narrative converge, when the narrator describes the ones who walk away from Omelas. People who, having witnessed the suffering, quietly leave. And the reader learns that not only is it an option to leave, but that the act of leaving fulfills some unstated purpose. So why is it that Omelas would be destroyed without the suffering? Well, go back to the question. When did Omelas become real? Only once it contained horrible suffering. Because that's when the reader believed in it.

And what does it say, that we as readers cannot conceptualize in our minds a believable paradise without unnecessary suffering? Perhaps because in our own reality, there is unnecessary suffering, not just passively, but intentional deliberate suffering. It's the foundation of our way of life. It's capitalism, it's life founded upon state violence. We are constantly told and we constantly reinforce the narrative, that all good things come from this horrible abuse. But maybe we're wrong. Do we know where our good things come from? Does any of this "necessary suffering" actually have to occur?

The ones who stay in Omelas, the narrator included, do not understand why certain people leave, nor where it is they're going, but if the reader knows, it is only because they have decided to leave Omelas. To start believing in better things.

And I don't think I could have ever really understood this story in high school. Not until I had left the abusive environment I'd grown up in. At the time of leaving, I didn't fully understand why I was doing it, because I'd been more like the child in the scenario, but leaving was the first, most necessary step. Because I needed to be able to truly conceptualize in my mind a life that didn't involve/perpetuate abuse. The reason abuse tends to be a cycle is that it's normalized and tucked away in a corner where we don't acknowledge it 99% of the time.

Leaving Omelas hurts, like, hell even in my situation it was the hardest damn thing I ever had to do to leave my environment. But that's the thing, abusive environments are built to make leaving harder than staying. Or at least, to make you think that trying to make things better will inevitably make everything worse. That's their wager, that you'll find the "banality of pain" more tolerable than your fear of the unknown.

And in many cases, in america, leaving an abusive home situation does cause a host of new pains, because the cycle of abuse does not end at the home, it is reinforced and perpetuated by capitalism, by punishing the homeless, the poor, the injured, and the Other. It's systemic. Should the abused child escape the little shack, they're still in Omelas, and should Omelas fail to re-contain them, a different child will be chosen.

It really does come down to what you said, anon. You can't undo the abuse, and maybe you can't prevent it altogether either, but you can stop benefiting from it. You can start working toward a life where abuse isn't a part of it. And that does genuinely matter. The more people there are who can believe in a world without abuse, and who aren't afraid to abandon the cycle of violence altogether, the closer we come to dismantling abusive systems.

#cw abuse #cw child abuse #tw abuse #tw childhood abuse #sorry this was super long and basically just restating the story but more explicitly but whatever I just feel so many