#COWARD. you are admitting to being dumb

[scatterbrainedart]

Okay but like misogyny and gender division aside, I really like how lovers used to call each other friend. Soulmate, boy/girlfriend. Even married couples could say stuff like “ever your friend” and it wasn’t seen as friend zoning or lesser, but rather emphasising their bond and good standing with each other. Just gets me, man

[bartonomy]

A LITTLE BIT OF SCANDAL WITH A PINCH OF DEFAMATION

PAIRING Sirius Black x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS someone has made it their personal mission to ridicule the eldest black sibling in the school newspaper’s anonymous Spotlight column and the entire school is entertained- except Sirius

WORD COUNT 1.6k

CONTENT WARNING none

library.

Sirius Black was not used to being the butt of the joke.

Sure, he and James pranked their fellow students on a near daily basis, but that was different. That was lighthearted fun. This? This was targeted character assassination.

He sat at the Gryffindor table, scowling at the latest edition of The Hogwarts Weekly, which had just been delivered alongside breakfast. The familiar bolded headline made his stomach twist with dread.

“Weekly Spotlight: Sirius Black’s Hair Routine- Does He Secretly Use Veela Shampoo?”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand through his obscenely perfect hair as James curiously peered over his shoulder.

“Oi, that’s a glowing review compared to last week,” James said, snatching a piece of toast. “At least they’re acknowledging the effort you put into looking devastatingly handsome.”

Sirius shot him a glare. “‘Effort’? You think I try to look like this? Mate, I was born like this."

James smirked. “Well, according to the article, you wake up two hours early just to what was it again?, ‘whisper sweet nothings to your reflection’?”

Sirius slammed the newspaper onto the table and huffed. “I do not whisper to my reflection.”

“Mate, I’ve seen you wink at yourself in the window.”

“That’s different,” Sirius muttered or rather pouted.

Across the hall, students were already whispering, chuckling at the latest installment of the rather brilliant writer's ongoing takedown of Sirius Black.

“This has gone too far,” Sirius grumbled. “I need to find out who’s behind this.”

James perked up. “Are you saying…” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “We have a mystery to solve?”

Sirius nodded, expression grave. “We’re going to catch this Quilly and when we do, I swear they’ll regret ever picking up a feather.”

James grinned. “Sirius, my dear friend, we are now game on.”

Sirius and James took their new roles as amateur detectives very seriously.

They started by interrogating their classmates.

“Did you write this?” Sirius demanded, waving the newspaper in the face of a startled Ravenclaw.

The boy blinked. “I- I don’t even read the Herald.”

James jotted something down in a small notebook. “Suspicious.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. “Very suspicious indeed.”

The Ravenclaw scurried away.

Next, they turned to analyzing past articles for clues. They sat in a corner of the common room, parchment and numerous past articles spread out before them. James tapped his quill against his chin. “Alright, let’s think, who would have enough access to the dumb things you do on a daily basis?”

Sirius frowned. “That’s the problem. I’m incredibly popular. People are always watching me.”

James snorted. “That’s one way to phrase it.”

“Alright,” Sirius huffed. “Who works on the Weekly?”

“Dunno,” James admitted. “It’s all pretty hush hush. They don’t like revealing their sources.”

“Cowards.”

James scanned the common room, eyes landing on Remus, who was curled up in an armchair, nose deep in a book.

“Oi, Moony,” James called. “You’re a Prefect. You know things. Who writes for The Hogwarts Weekly?”

Remus didn’t even look up. “Confidential.”

Sirius groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Remus finally closed his book and sighed. “Look, if the Quiller keeps their writers anonymous, they have a reason for it. Besides, maybe if you stopped embarrassing yourself on a daily basis, they wouldn’t have so much material.”

James laughs at that. Sirius glared. “You’re useless.”

Remus smirked. “And yet, I sleep soundly at night.”

The following week, after a failed (lazy really) gathering of information, he slammed the latest issue of the newspaper onto the Gryffindor table, sending toast crumbs flying.

“This- this is an attack on my dignity!” he declared, glaring at the offending article.

James, who was in the middle of buttering his toast, looked up eyes wide. “What is it this time?”

Sirius scowled. “See for yourself”

James took the paper from him, eyes scanning the latest Spotlight column.

“Sirius Black: Smooth Talker or Walking Disaster?”

Once again, Hogwarts’ resident Casanova has graced the halls with his effortless charm- or so he thinks. Witnesses report that Black’s attempt to woo a Hufflepuff sixth year ended in catastrophe when he tripped over his own shoelaces and knocked over an entire suit of armor.

Eyewitness testimony claims Black tried to play it off, stating, ‘The armor was clearly in love with me. It fell at my feet.’

Sources remain skeptical. "

James barely suppressed a laugh. “I mean… it does sound like something you’d say.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s not the point! Who is this menace? Who keeps writing these slanderous lies?”

Remus, who had been reading over James’ shoulder, snorted. “They’re not lies if they actually happened.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, you did say the armor was in love with you.”

Sirius huffed. “That’s not- that’s beside the point!” He gestured wildly. “This mystery writer has been humiliating me for weeks! It's blasphemy!”

His first suspect was the rather scary friend of his.

“Marls,” Sirius said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Where were you last Tuesday at precisely 7:42 PM?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because,” James said dramatically, “that was the moment the Weekly was printed. And we think you’re the mysterious Quiller.”

Marlene blinked. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh, I wish I was them,” she wheezed, swiping away stray tears. “Whoever that is? Brilliant. But sorry to disappoint, Black. It’s not me.”

Sirius squinted. “Hmm. You do like writing…”

“I like writing about things that matter,” Marlene said dryly. “And you? Do not matter.”

Sirius gasped bewildered. James patted his shoulder. “Tough break, mate.”

The second suspect was Lily, much to James' dismay. They were walking towards the library, discussing a way to question the red head without being hexed first. A few third years were discussing the newest paper rather enthusiastically by the grand fountain in the hall, much to Sirius' annoyance.

“She’s clever, she hates you, and wants to get back at you by attacking me,” Sirius reasoned. “Sounds like our girl.”

James frowned. “Yeah, but she’d just tell me to my face that I’m an idiot.”

“…Good point.”

The next and last suspect was Mary.

“She’s always laughing like a Hippogriff whenever a new column drops,” Sirius muttered. “Maybe too much.”

They set up an ambush outside the Herbology classroom, waiting for Mary to slip up.

After an eternity (20 minutes) of lurking in the corridor, she finally came into view.

Sirius and James leaped out from behind a suit of armor.

“Confess, Macdonald!” Sirius yelled.

Mary screamed, punched James in the stomach, and stormed off.

“…Not her,” James wheezed.

After several more failed interrogations, the case was going cold.

“We need bait,” Sirius decided. James raised an eyebrow. “Bait?”

Sirius grinned. “We stage an event! Something so ridiculous that the mystery writer has to cover it. Then, we watch to see who’s taking notes.”

James rubbed his hands together. “On Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, Pads, you're brilliant .”

Thus, the Great Staircase Incident was born.

It involved Sirius pretending to fall dramatically down three flights of stairs (which bloody hurt), James pretending to rescue him, though his acting skills were not very convincing and Peter shouting rather pathetically, “Oh no! Sirius Black has tragically lost all coordination!”

The entire school gathered to watch.

James and Sirius carefully scanned the crowd. Who was watching too closely? Who looked too interested? Sirius’s eyes locked on a familiar face.

You.

You stood near the back, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on your lips. You weren’t laughing as loudly as the others, and there was something… calculating about your expression.

Sirius nudged James. “ Mate, I have a hunch.”

James followed his gaze. “You think it’s them?”

Sirius squinted. “I don’t know… but they're suspicious.”

James smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

You were finishing the next article in an empty classroom when the door slammed shut behind you.

You jumped, quill flying from your hand and the remaining ink splattered across the wooden floor.

Sirius Black stood in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking like a mad alchemist who has just discovered a breakthrough that would put him on a chocolate frog.

“Got ya.”

Your heart pounded. “Pardon?”

He strolled toward you, eyes flicking to the parchment on your desk. The column draft written halfway done. You lunged for it- albeit a little too slow.

Sirius snatched the parchment, scanning the words. His grin widened.

“Well, well, well,” he mused. “Looks like the mystery’s solved.”

You swallowed hard. “…I have no idea what you are talking about, Black. Have the countless detentions with Filch mushed up your brain?”

Sirius tapped the parchment. “The ruse is up, Quilly, We both know that you were the one defaming me for, what, six months? Rather impressive, little feather.”

You crossed your arms. “So, what now? You're going to expose me? Hex me?”

"Oh yes, I will definitely prank you for that", he tilted his head. “Though for the second part... it depends.”

“…On?”

A slow smirk spread across his face. “On whether you let me help write the next one.” Your jaw dropped. “What?”

Sirius winked. “If I can’t beat you… I might as well join you.” And just like that, the biggest mystery at Hogwarts took an unexpected turn.

[kallmemeimei]

Moments I can see happens in Deadtired’s life: Before they dated

It’s a bit more descriptive from the previous one idk why

—————

Those neon green eyes which were usually cheerful and bright, now held inexplicable darkness. Phantom’s usual easy-going character was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a man who reminded Tim of an icy jagged mountain peak, cold, sharp and unfathomable, stood in his place.

“You keep provoking me again and again… Hey, Tim, I know I’m usually too lazy to bother with things but i’m still a man.”

Perhaps because Phantom usually either had a lazy or cheerful smile on his face, which made him look easy to get along with, Tim only found out now that when Phantom puts away the smile on his face and stared at Tim expressionlessly, the hair-raising feeling that made him tense immediately prevailed.

The slightly heavier breath swept across his cheek and neck, and lowered, raspy voice was filled with intimidation. The young CEO who always had plans and schemes in his head was put in a rare position where his mind was coming in blank and stood frozen against the wall, even holding his breath unconsciously due to nervousness.

Confident azure blue eyes no longer held the daringness it had before, but was replaced by a cute and docile look, reminding others of a cute deer. Phantom seemed to be quite satisfied with the current Tim, and despite being expressionless still, Phantom returned to his previously friendly demeanour. The previously ice melted to show warmth again.

“Don’t challenge my patience with yourself again, okay?”

“……Yeah.”

Completely suppressed by the other party’s momentum, Tim subconsciously nodded, only breathing a sigh of relief once Phantom phased out of the room.

“What’s up with him?”

Tim’s back that was still pressed up against the wall, gradually slid down until he reached the carpeted floor due to his weak legs. He covered his face with his hands, but through the gaps between his fingers and his exposed ears, it’s still obvious that his face was bright red.

“He usually acts so silly and dumb... Why is he being handsome all of the sudden…”

Meanwhile, as the target of Tim’s criticisms, Danny just casually nodded and greeted the other members of the Wayne family whenever he came across them. Except for noticing the fact that Phantom’s ears were slightly green, no one would have ever thought what this ghost had done before.

Danny, who maxed out his acting talent stat for a short moment, returned to the guest room he was staying in for now and closed the door. Then he instantly squatted down and suddenly covered his face with his hands, his whole body exuding the feeling of, “it’s over, it’s over,””the bats are going to kill me,””i’m so embarrassed,””please let me permanently die now.”

“Holy shit. I actually said that??? Ancients, what gave me the guts to say that??? Fuck. Does Tim hate me now??? I think I just unconsciously used my aura as king… No, no, no, I should go find Clockwork and convince him to let me travel to the past so I can punch myself!!!”

The coward who had completely entered self-destructive mode had already started blabbing nonsensical things, but just when his shame was starting to overwhelm him, the expression of Tim, who had pinned against the wall by him before, began to unconsciously emerge from his mind.

Blue eyes, widened by shock, looked like a calm lake that suddenly had stones thrown into it under a clear sky. His slightly trembling lashes made him appear fragile, and it made Danny feel like a small, soft animal’s fur was brushing itself against his heart. His pale lips were reddened by how much he was pressing them tightly, subconsciously catching Danny’s attention.

And... remembering the heat from the feeling of his ear being gently bitten by Tim earlier, which hadn't completely dissipated yet.

—Ahhh, you can't escape, Danny.

——Just admit it, Tim.

The fingers covering their faces almost sunk into their skin, but this action didn't help reduce the blush on their faces. Although they were in two completely different places, Tim and Danny surprisingly had the same actions, both covered their reddened cheeks with their hands, squatted on the ground and tried to curl up.

——You've fallen for him! (x2)

[iheartcake123]

seongje x f!reader

a/n: whc has definitely become a fave show for me!! this is my first fic for the show so i hope i did it some justice!!

warnings: none that i can think of but i guess seongje is a warning in itself 💀

Masterlist

you had to admit, you were getting frustrated. the tension in the air was thick. seongje was sat in front the two of you, you were with si-eun and seongje was busy slurping up his noodles.

“look, we both know union is dangerous” si-eun started to explain, his voice calm and firm “it’s time you expose them”

seongje paused and his eyes flicked to si-eun and then to you. his usual confident smirk was in place, but today, something about it felt different. almost like a game he was enjoying way too much.

there was also a knowing glint in his gaze and you could feel the weight of his attention shift.

“i don’t know what you two expect from me really..” his tone was smooth “you think im just going to spill and give you the unions secrets because you’re asking nicely? cute.”

he then let out a chuckle before returning to his bowl of noodles in front of him. you crossed your arms, a sigh escaping you as you tried to suppress the frustration bubbling within you.

“be for real. we’re not asking you to be nice, seongje. we’re asking you to do what’s right” you said, your voice unwavering “i thought you’re supposed to be smarter than this. you know the damage they can cause you”

seongje then let out another chuckle, this one low and mocking. he placed his chopsticks down and straightened up. his eyes locking onto yours and the vibe shifted. his gaze was intense and calculating. almost as if he was assessing something far beyond your words.

with a pause, his lips quirked up into his signature smirk, the one you’d always found infuriating.

“oh. so now we’re talking about doing what’s right?” seongje teased, now leaning over the table “you really think I’m the kind of guy who cares about that?”

si-eun shot you a glance, his lips pressed in a thin line. he knew how difficult Seongje could be, but the two of you had agreed—he had the information, and if anyone could get through to him, it was most likely you. he’d always had a strange infatuation with you.

you held his gaze, unflinching.

“doesn’t matter what i think. but if you really want to know..i think you’re someone who pretends not to care but actually, you know exactly what’s going on. if you want to continue playing the game, fine. but you know that’s not going to protect you forever”

seongje then raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening even further. his eyes, examining your face.

“oh, so you think you can pressure me into talking? you really think you’ve got the upper hand here, huh?” the confidence in his voice grated on your nerves, but you didn’t let it show.

instead, you then leaned forward, narrowing your eyes at him “i don’t need to pressure you. you’re smart enough to see the bigger picture. the union’s control over everything is breaking down, and they’ll turn on you too when it suits them. exposing them now is the only way to get ahead of them”

he tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face, and for the first time, you noticed the way his gaze lingered on you. there was something about the way he studied you now—almost like he was trying to figure you out. it was subtle, but it was definitely there.

“you really think i’m just going to take orders from you? or this asshole?” seongje drawled, his tone suddenly laced with something more playful “you don’t look like the type to follow anyone. so why should i?”

you rolled your eyes,before shifting slightly in your seat, trying to shake off the strange sensation that his attention brought.

“don’t be dumb. i’m not asking you to follow me. i’m asking you to stop being a coward for once” you spat, doing your best to not let him get under your skin.

seongje’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, but it quickly returned, sharper than before.

“you’ve got a lot of fire in you. waltzing here with your asshole friend thinking you can change my mind. you know? maybe that’s what i like about you. it’s sexy” he then said.

you froze for a second, caught off guard by his words. he was always the type to use words like a weapon but now it felt different. it wasn’t just the usual teasing or taunting he’d done before. there was an edge to it, and it was aimed squarely at you.

“dont flatter yourself” you then snapped, straightening your posture “i’m not here for your cheap compliments”

“oh, i wasn’t trying to flatter you” seongje replied, his voice a little too smooth. you then felt a hand on your leg from under the table.

his voice dropped low as he then spoke “i’m just wondering what else you’re capable of. you’ve got the guts to stand up to me, but you’ve also got this... mystery to you. makes me want to figure you out”

towards the end of his sentence the pressure on your leg tightened harshly and your hands went push it off of you. seongje continued looking at you, he acted as if si-eun wasn’t even there and he stared at you like you were some kind of puzzle he was itching to solve. desperate to get under your skin.

it was the first time he’d made comments like that but this time, it felt different. it was almost like he was challenging you in a way that went beyond just making you uncomfortable.

“well, good luck because you won’t figure me out that easily” you sat back and looked towards si-eun.

he was glaring at seongje and you gave him a look as if to tell him ‘it’s ok’.

seongje continued to watch you, his expression unreadable now.

“hm you’re right. maybe im not done figuring you out just yet” he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and you raised an eyebrow.

seongje’ eyes then narrowed and a flicker of amusement crossed his face.

“but, if you want to convince me to get involved with everything, you’re going to have to try harder than that” as soon as the words escaped his lips, he picked up his chop sticks and began to eat the rest of his noodles.

his constant shifts in attitude was giving you whiplash. you were irritated but now more determined.

“we aren’t trying to convince you. you, yourself know that’s it’s only a matter of time before it all goes wrong for you” you explained as seongje obnoxiously slurped the last of his noodles.

once he was done, he let out a low laugh, his smile not quite reaching his eyes “maybe you’re right. maybe im just being stubborn. but tell me, y/n. what’s in it for me?”

“doing the right thing for once” you said flatly “and not being an asshole for one” the second part you whispered under your breath.

“but also getting the upper hand on the union. isn’t that what you want? or you can stay doing nothing but you’d just be deluding yourself” you then continued.

he let out a slow breath, as though considering your words. but then his eyes flicked to you again, and for a brief moment, the playful edge in his voice was replaced by something a little more serious, maybe even a little intrigued.

“you’ve got more backbone than ive given you credit for” seongje remarked, his smirk softening “maybe i’ll l take that into account next time we talk”

and then, as though he blocked you out, he turned back to si-eun “now, as for you... if you’re serious about me helping expose the union, you’re going to need a better plan”

your face scrunched into confusion as you listened to him now talk to si-eun. he was no longer acknowledging your presence.

your mind lingered on the way he’d shifted from teasing you, to seeming genuinely interested to now completely acting as if you weren’t there. it was unsettling to say the least.

you didn’t want to admit it but you couldn’t deny it either, but he’d caught your complete attention.

and now, you had his.

[finalgirlmorgue]

🍵༘PANCAKES🥯⊹ ࣪ ˖

„⤵ MILD ANGST and fluff! „⤵ 2 / (?) PARTS „⤵ JASON TODD X READER Jason is getting settled in his new home, after showing up at your door last night. Jason is a dead man walking, but he still needs you. Read PT 1 here! AFFECTION ROTS Reblogs much appreciated

The two of you eventually found the couch. You sat next to him, putting a throw pillow's distance between the two of you. Much to his disappointment. Jason was more clingy then he had ever been before. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. A few hours passed. You had both fallen asleep sometime after midnight. That morning he explained everything as best as he could to you, his death at the hands of the joker, the crowbar, the ressurection. Despite the granted confusion you followed as best you could. He told you everything. Everything that happened from the moment he died. He really missed you, despite the two of you being dumb in love teeangers. He still saw a future with you, and you were wary to admit you weren't sure you saw the same. He was diffrerent. Bigger, taller, stronger. And somehow more alive, than anything before. “I'm sorry." You managed to say. You felt like such a coward. You couldn't handle touching him, or holding his hand.

“I can't blame you. It'll take some time." He said sadly. You could see in his eyes that he was blaming himself. "You're doing great… I really am proud of you. Just wish we could've done all this… together, y'know?" he said the last part quietly, almost a whisper. You looked down, unable to hold eye contact.

"Things are a little bit different now. You know that right? I can't change my past. Even though I'd like to." You spoke slowly. "You know, it's gonna take some time. I don't regret our relationship. Never have."

”You're serious, huh?" he raised an eyebrow. It was nearly commical. You were devestating him with every word you spoke. "I wanted us to do this forever, you know? Like… forever. You've always been on my mind.. guess I should've known things weren't gonna stay the same. You're not fifteen anymore.." he mumbled.

He had a faraway look in his eye. You wondered how much of this story he had clearly made up inside his mind depended on you reciprocating his tender feelings. But you knew this was his way of trying to comfort you, despite his broken soul. He would give you time… "Do you remember our first date?" He suddenly asked. He smiled shyly, looking down at his lap. The image came unbidden to your mind, vivid and perfect. You remembered how much effort he put into planning. He was more thorough then any man. He was attentive, and a good listener. So why were you hesitant..? Maybe it was his dependency. “Um. Yes I remember- Um.. do you want breakfast?.." You said weakly, standing up and turning towards the kitchen, leaving him to his own thoughts. "I can make us something quick…" You heard him sigh in disappointment. When you finally turned around again, his elbows were on his knees. He was curled into himself. You knew he was trying to be strong. But it was hard to admire his strengths when he looked so pitiful.. It broke your heart. "I'm making pancakes.. Do you want some? They're grainy but- edible." You offered hesitantly.

“Yeah.. sounds good.” His voice cracked. He didn’t have a good relationship with food. After the truama of his death and even before that with the joker, he hadn’t been hungry at all. He never wanted food.. and when he did it threw it up promptly. Food always felt unsafe to him. And that included food cooked by you.. which seemed ironic, because he would have worshipped the ground beneath you if you asked him to.

He wondered if he watched the whole process of cooking from start to finish if he would feel better about it. He could trick his brain into understanding he was safe.

“God you’re so gorgeous..” He sighed. “I’m tired of falling for you all over again… s’not fair. Why can’t I have you?” You paused, setting the pan on the stove as it heated up. Melting the butter into a bubbly golden liquid. There was no denying he had changed a lot. He went from 4”6 to an even 6 foot. You could see the stretch marks that painted his hips whenever he lifted his arms up. Despite your ‘disinterest’ in him romantically, you would still take small peeks and glances whenever his shirt rode up, revealing some of the new muscle he had gained.

His sudden growth wasn’t unwelcome, it was just shocking that he had grown that much within the span of a few years. Especially considering he had always been smaller than you.

But you had accepted his advances with only halfhearted interest. Even if he was a handsome behemoth of a man today. But it was hard to deny the fact that when he looked at you like he did now, you felt a lingering warmth.

He hadn’t lost his charm. He still knew how to make you blush and smile. But maybe you were too afraid of losing what you shared with him.. again..

As you began making the pancake mix he kept his gaze trained on you and the food. He was obviously enthralled with it.. “I like strawberries.” He smiled softly, watching you work through the recipe. He’d always loved watching you cook. It reminded him of home.. it was vaguely reminiscent of Alfred. Even if he hated the Waynes he still missed having a family. “They remind me of you.” He continued. “Those soft, shiny pinkish red ones…” You nodded along to his words. He was always so sentimental.. “They smell like spring.” He added, smiling slightly. You felt yourself relax at his words. He could be sweet sometimes, despite the fact he was now, 10x his size, strength, and power. He was probably better at a lot of things now, you didn’t want to know what he would do to any of the failed relationships you had in your contacts still... But it was clear he still had that innocent side that you once loved. Jason was like weathered plastic in the garden, his old self was fading, but the spots where the sunlight hadn’t burned away the old Jason todd were still as vibrant and tender as ever. He seemed happier than usual too. His cheeks had begun to lighten up again, his skin seemed to glow from just having seen you again.

The food was ready, and you brought him over to the table. “I’m not an amazing cook, but I hope it’s okay….” You handed him the fork. He was silent for a while, staring at the plate in front of him.

“I uh.. I’m usually not so good with food but this does look really good I promise. It feels like I constantly have the flu. My mind is all fucking broken.."

"You deserve a break." You said, sitting opposite of him across the table. Your fingers intertwined tightly with your own beneath the table, under the table. You tried to suppress your nerves. He needed comfort and support now, you couldn't give him more. "You're here.. With me.. That's something." You said, trying to encourage him.

“I still want you. So bad..” He mumbled. His fork clinked against his plate as he set it down gently. You took a deep breath. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t ready to talk about your problem with the matter of your relationship. You just wanted him to eat, and try to get better..

“Jason-“ You warned.

“Do you still love me?” He interrupted. He was trying to sound calm, but he was clearly agitated. The question threw you off guard. He looked at you with wide, desperate eyes. “Answer honestly. I need to know.” You hesitated.

“Yes.” You answered truthfully, not able to hide the hurt on your face.

“You don’t even want to touch me…” he muttered dejectedly.

“You died- I was at your funeral.. I don’t understand how your here right now..” you said firmly. “I’m just… confused, ok? I thought I understood everything..” You were trembling. You knew he saw, he understood. You didn’t know how to deal with the guilt gnawing at your stomach.. You hated seeing him this upset. “I miss you..” he whispered, staring at you with pleading eyes.

You lowered your gaze and shook your head. “I’m sorry- you.. Do you have a place to stay?..”

“Are you kicking me out?..”

“Well no- but I feel bad for making you sleep on the couch.” You explained. “You’ve done nothing wrong.. I’m sorry… do you want to stay?”

He remained silent and slowly ate the food placed in front of him. His lips forming into a thin line. He looked exhausted. But he was eating the meal you had made, albeit reluctantly and very slowly. It took him about 20 minutes, as he finished every bite without looking up or saying a word.

“Yeah. I want to stay here for a bit.” He replied after he finished chewing. You nodded, relieved. He pushed back the chair and stood up. He looked exhausted.

“I’ll get you some blankets.” You said quietly, walking back to your room to bring some out to him. While searching your closet, you heard soft footsteps behind you. Your body froze for a split second. Just Jason.. Just Jason…. Then you relaxed. You pulled out two fluffy blankets. You walked back towards him, throwing them over his shoulders. He let out a content sigh at the warmth. “It smells like you…” he mused. He looked so at peace. Like you had injected life into him for the first time since he got here.

He grabbed one pillow from your bed and squeezed it. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft material against his skin. You couldn’t help but smile softly. He looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky. A sense of wonder and relief washing over his features. He turned to the doorway, making his way to the living room.

The television flickered dimly on your TV stand. Your DVD’s stacked high, mostly disney and other classics. “I love you so much..” he murmured, looking around your home.

“I…” You paused. “Know.. you do..” you trailed off, not knowing how else to respond. It felt weird hearing those words come from him. You spent nights hoping to hear those exact words just.. one more time. Hearing them now..

“Where were you?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming guilt weighing down your chest.

“Oh y’know…” He shrugged. “Just…” he laughed awkwardly before sitting down on the couch. “Just running around doing shit. Nothing serious.” He admitted. “But I was able to find you eventually. I actually used to sit in the parking lot and stare at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it..” he looked embarrassed to admit that, scratching the side of his jaw. You chuckled lightly at that image. “You should have seen it, though! I sat there until my legs went numb and then I finally decided to walk away because I felt kinda creepy sitting there watching like that..” He grinned, remembering how pathetic and childish it sounded. “But, I had to see you last night. I had to talk to you... See how you were...” He said, sadly. “God…I’m really messed up.” He sighed, dropping his gaze onto the floor. You frowned as you noticed his mood swing.

“I missed you too-… I’m glad you’re back, and I’m sorry I’m being so cold.” You apologised.

He gave you an understanding glance, “you can be pretty difficult to read these days.. I just.. I hope you can understand my intentions. I still want you.”

“Night Jay.” You stood up, attempting to run away from the topic. “I have class in the morning. I gotta get some sleep. I have a presentation coming up.” You walked towards the bedroom, but stopped. You didn’t want to leave him alone yet. What happened wasn’t fair. “I’ll be back around 12 or so.. tomorrow.”

“Goodnight baby.” He sighed, laying down on the couch. You smiled at his nickname.

He stayed sleeping in his makeshift bed the whole evening, until 4 am or so when he slipped out from the blankets and into your room. He was just getting up to check on you, but eventually it became him… getting a closer look.. getting in bed. and passing out next to you. These blankets were big enough to cover him completely, no cold feet. There was barely any distance between you.

“Night..” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He laid down facing away from you, but in his mind he was holding you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. ...

[cute-little-fly]

Now that some people have been discussing some stuff about HB again… I think I understand another reason why the criticism people make about the hellaverse and Viv as a creator bothers me in a different way than the criticism made for another shows, that I didn’t mentioned in a post I made a while ago…

One day I watched a criticism video about the last episode of the indie series “Murder Drones” (if you haven’t watched it go for it, it’s fun!) and the way the critic framed the criticism was very different.

For example, people in the hellaverse critical community will often say things like: “Viv doesn’t make her female characters compelling or developed enough, and that means she is probably mysoginistic or has a yaoi preference or a fetish”.

Contrary to that, this critic said this about about a character of Liam Vickens: “Uzi relationship with her father it’s rushed off, and Uzi’s father doesn’t do anything at the end and never redeems of what he did to her at the start. He is kinda ignored in the final battle and that was lame.” Which is a normal criticism imo.

However, imagine that he would have said: “probably Liam Vickens has daddy issues, and he projected those issues into Uzi’s father, therefore this is probably why he was framed as dumb and coward from the beginning to the end.”.

Like… do you see the difference here??? I really hope you see the difference, because in that way you would be close to understand why we struggle with the criticism.

It makes me a little but uncomfortable that sometimes people project things like that onto Viv when they don’t agree with her work. Like, I get that this could be because of how she sometimes calls out antis, and defends some of her characters like Stolas but like… you are looking worse in my eyes by doing these comments.

The critical community has normalized this at an extent that I find weird… no matter how flawed and wrong Viv can be seen sometimes, and how she openly talks about things like this. Like sex and fetishes… Is weird the way people project a lot as if they knew her irl.

What I am saying is that it’s different saying this: “I really question why Viv is so resistant to give her female characters in helluva boss development or spotlight, I think it’s a flaw of her work”. I would be completely fine with this criticism. Even agree at some extent (though I personally think the female leads are fine and just need more development and screentime)

That she puts more attention to male leads can have a lot of other reasons. Some female authors have admitted struggling to write women, and this might be because of our complicated feelings of being a woman in a patriarchal society. But… god forbid give the woman a benefit of the doubt in something.

This is what we mean when we talk about bad faith criticisms or comments… People act as if Viv purpose was to make a bad show, and not to care about it. Or like she is so incompetent that she shouldn’t even try… and I find that discouraging, because if even with its failures these shows have gotten so loved and popular by a portion of the fans… this means they are kinda covering a niche that wasn’t being filled.

Maybe the reason why people like HB it’s because Blitzø it’s not the typical protagonist asshole some people wish he was. Maybe because Stolas it’s not the typical love interest. Maybe because it reuses a lot of tropes but in an unexpected and weird way.

Like, if Blitzø was another shitty father like Dr Venture, I wouldn’t be as invested in this series. This combination of silly humour and drama it’s great. It could be done better but it’s great for some of us and is also not nice when you talk about us as if you understood our appreciation.

For me at least, It’s completely fine that people make blogs about their frustration of some not being how they expected originally if they didn’t do this stuff. I just wished that the criticism sometimes wouldn’t get as personal for her and for the fans of this show.

Sometimes we make analysis of certain scenes and moments, how that we claim to understand some of the characters deeply because we really feel we can understand them! But, we are being told that we are able to enjoy it because we project headcanons and fill the gaps of bad writing.

While this happens sometimes, like how we fill the gaps of how the non-shown Full Moons go that are basically all, it’s not only because of that that we like it. We also appreciate a lot of things directly shown in the series and we talk directly about them scene by scene and frame by frame.

At the end… this post is like a reflection or opinion about why I think talking about the shows in this particular way it’s something that creates a bad climate for it, and that the reason why there is so much friction in the community it’s the way the criticism is phrased for us (the fans) and the creators.

[berryispunk]

Florida Heat

Chapter 8 of "Rain Down on Me" for the April Showers challenge by @jolapeno

series masterlist

pairing: Frankie Morales x ofc! reader (Summer)

tags: enemies to ???, emotional chaos, Frankie being soft, we're slowly getting there, unresolved tension, one bed trope, all the feelings, they are just idiots

notes: we're almost done with their story. only today and tomorrow and we are fucking finished. thanks so much to every single one of you who sticks around and watch these two being absolute disasters. mwah 💋

word count: ~ 3,7k

Weeks passed, slowly dragging on without much happening at all. 

And yeah, okay, the kiss haunted him a little.

Not in a bad way. Just in that ‘it was always there in the back of his mind’. Lingering in the quiet moments. In the way you’d looked at him after, cheeks flushed and breath uneven, like maybe you wanted to say something but didn’t. In the way you left his car with a quiet, “bye,” and he’d said it back, grinning like a dumbass because he didn’t know what else to do.

You hadn’t talked about it, neither had he.

You saw each other—group stuff, little gatherings, drinks at someone’s place—but nothing private. No alone time, no late-night texts. Just a few glances across rooms that felt heavier than they had any right to be. Every time he thought about bringing it up, his throat got tight. Every time he thought you might bring it up, you didn’t.

So, yeah. The silence stretched and Frankie lived in it.

He lived in it on quiet nights, too, the kind that dragged long past midnight when the house was too quiet and his bed felt too empty. He’d close his eyes and remember how you tasted—like rain and sugar and everything soft he wasn’t supposed to crave. And sometimes, when he was too wound up to sleep, too full of everything he wouldn’t say, he let his hand drift low and thought about the sound you made when you kissed him back.

Shaky, breathless, like it wrecked you a little just as much as it did him.

Yeah, he thought about that, more than once.

He’d stare at his phone sometimes too—the last message from you still sitting there, that dumb little joke about Gary with a typo in it that made you look like you’d been rushing. He never replied, neither did you. But he opened that thread more than he’d admit, thumb hovering over the keyboard like a coward.

What would he even say?

That he couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth? That your pullover was still in his passenger seat, and sometimes he reached for it without thinking—like a habit. Smelling the rain and you in it, clinging to the fabric like if he just held on tight enough, maybe you’d come back.

That he’d already screwed this—whatever this was—up before it even had the chance to start, just like he ruined everything else he cared about?

Until that one Saturday night on Will and Monica’s balcony—their new place, all modern and full of light, the one you and Frankie had helped them move into when you still claimed to hate each other. Back when everything was sharp edges and bickering and you called him “airlift boy” just to get under his skin.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

The last traces of rain still hung in the air, same as all the weeks before, clinging to the heavy summer heat. The whole street smelled like city pavement and leftover beer, thick and familiar. Their group was crammed together outside, loud and buzzing with that half-drunk, half-happy energy that made everything feel bigger, messier, more. Monica clinked her spoon against a wine glass like she was hosting a damn awards show.

“Okay,” she said, eyes shining, “we have something to tell you.”

Will looped an arm around her waist. “We’re getting married!”

“Next month!” Monica added. “We’re doing it at that little hotel in Tempa—by the water, remember?”

Cheers erupted. Someone whooped. Benny shouted something about open bars and second chances, and the group dissolved into chaotic, joyful noise. But Frankie—he looked at you.

And you were already looking at him.

It wasn’t a moment—not exactly. Nothing flashy or loud. Just a breath where the space between you shifted, stretched, and whatever simmered under the surface didn’t feel quite so out of reach anymore. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, his didn’t either. And for the first time since that night, something tightened in his chest—not panic, not longing. 

He knew now, you were thinking about it too. About him. The kiss, the not-date. The way you hadn’t really talked since.

And suddenly, forever—weddings, shared lives, big declarations—didn’t feel like some far-off, someday thing. It felt like a mirror held up right in front of him.

And it scared him—knocked him clean off center. Because in that fleeting moment, you were looking at him in a way you never had before—soft, unguarded, without the usual bite or shield. Just you and your beautiful eyes, mirroring everything he felt.

You looked away first, laughing at something Monica said. But your fingers toyed with the edge of your drink, twisting it slowly on the table. Frankie clocked it, filed it away.

Because he wasn’t imagining it.

Something had shifted, permanently, and this time he wasn’t gonna let it slip by.

—

You didn’t even realize you were drifting until Monica caught your wrist, pulling you aside as the others erupted into another wave of laughter.

"You're quiet tonight," she said, voice light but edged with something knowing. "Not your usual ‘roast everyone in sight’ vibe."

You tried to shrug it off, but Monica just raised an eyebrow, waiting. You cracked first.

"We kissed," you said, low, like it might somehow undo it if you spoke too loudly.

Monica blinked. "Wait. What?"

You laughed under your breath, a little helpless. "After the fair. The whole ‘not a date’ thing? Yeah. We kissed."

Monica smacked your arm lightly. "And you’re just telling me this now? Are you kidding?"

Her voice pitched higher, half horror, half delight. "I thought you two were still in the slow-burn, 'I hate you but actually I’d die for you' stage!"

You shook your head, trying to smile, but it didn’t quite land.

"It didn’t fix everything," you said. "We haven’t really talked about it since. And now…"

You trailed off, glancing across the crowd. Frankie stood a few feet away, laughing with Will, his head tipped back in the soft gold light.

Your chest ached.

Monica followed your gaze, quiet for a beat.

"You’re scared," she said finally. "But you don’t have to be. You don’t have to turn this into a joke or pretend it’s not real."

She bumped her shoulder against yours, gentle. "I know he’s a little chaotic sometimes. But he’s steady where it matters. I’ve seen it. And you deserve that. You deserve someone who shows up, even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy."

You swallowed hard, a knot tightening in your chest.

Monica squeezed your hand once, steady and sure. "Besides," she added with a wicked grin, "you kissed him after a fair. That’s like, straight out of a romcom. You're already halfway there."

—

It was so fucking hot.

The kind of heat that stuck to your skin and refused to let go. Your shirt clung to your back, your hair frizzed the second you stepped out of the car, and the air felt like soup. Disgusting, unforgivable. And of course, this was the exact moment the hotel decided to be a nightmare.

“What do you mean the reservation’s not there?” you asked, trying very hard not to snap at the guy behind the counter. He blinked at you, clearly already over it.

“I mean,” he said with a customer-service smile so tight it looked painful, “we only have four rooms. And you’re the fifth couple on the list.”

“We’re not a couple,” you corrected automatically.

Frankie standing beside you, made a small, very unhelpful noise that might’ve been a laugh.

You shot him a look that could’ve curdled milk and he froze.

The guy behind the counter raised an eyebrow shaking his head. “Regardless. We can bring up extra towels.”

You stared at him, searching for the punchline. “Towels?” you repeated.

He nodded, a little too quickly. “There’s a king bed in the room. It’s... quite spacious.”

The longer you stared him down, the smaller he seemed to shrink behind the counter.

You turned to Frankie, blinking slowly. “Spacious,” you repeated flatly, one eyebrow quirked in annoyance.

“Look,” Frankie said, clearly trying not to smile, “it’s not the worst situation.”

"It’s exactly the worst situation," you said, feeling the sweat pooling at the small of your back the longer you stood in the hotel lobby. All you wanted was to take a shower and call it a day, but instead you were stuck facing the incompetence of this fucking hotel—and you were the one paying for it. You wanted to cry.

“You’ve slept next to me before,” he reasoned with you.

“That was different,” you hissed.

He looked at you, brows raised. “How?”

You didn’t have an answer. Not one that made sense at least. Not one you were willing to say out loud. Because how was the whole goddamn problem, wasn’t it?

The difference was now you’d kissed him. The difference was now you thought about it at night, during the day, and all the silent moments in between.

The difference was now you’d seen the way his mouth softened when he looked at you, like he remembered too.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned to the counter.

“Fine,” you snapped. “One room. But I’m taking the bed.”

“You’re not taking the bed.”

“Wanna bet?” you bit back.

Frankie shrugged, all maddening calmness. “We’ll share. Like adults.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but nothing came out. Just heat and frustration. And the kind of spiraling awareness that made your skin feel too tight.

This was going to be a disaster, you knew it, felt it.

And still—your fingers brushed his when he took the keycard. And neither of you moved away.

—

The door clicked shut behind you with a dull thunk, the soft mechanical whir of the hotel AC kicking in like a distant whisper of mercy. At least you no longer felt like melting.

You didn’t move, Frankie didn’t either.

The silence stretched, humid and unbearable. Even the air conditioning couldn’t cut through the heat—Florida in August felt like walking through someone’s mouth. And now you were stuck in it, in this single room, with one man and one bed and an entire kiss neither of you ever talked about.

You dropped your bag harder than necessary.

Frankie wandered in behind you like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his limbs. His curls were damp with sweat. His t-shirt clung to his back. You didn’t look, you refused to look.

“So,” you said finally, voice dry as hell, “you’re taking the floor.”

He made a noise behind you that might’ve been a laugh or a sigh or some combination of both. “You’re really gonna make me sleep on this carpet?”

You turned around slowly, arms crossed, voice biting and irritated. “Do you want to spoon me all night, Francisco? Is that it?”

That shut him up, for a beat at least.

Then he gave you a look. A slow, unreadable, hot look that made your stomach twist and your breath catch, and God, this was such a bad idea. Sharing a bed with the one man who made your blood boil in more ways than one.

He broke the tension with a shrug. “It’s just a bed, Summer.”

It was not just a bed. It was him and you. And the weight of every charged moment between you, stuffed into 300 square feet of over-air-conditioned disaster.

You crossed to the bed without looking at him and flopped down with more force than necessary. Your arms went wide like a starfish. “Fine. But if you so much as breathe on me in your sleep—”

“I’ll be dead by morning. Got it.”

He sounded amused and you hated that you liked the sound of it.

The room was quiet again. You could hear him moving behind you. The rustle of fabric, the shift of the mattress as he sat down on the other side. It dipped beneath his weight. The closeness of it made your skin buzz. The heat outside had nothing on the heat in here—the kind that came from tension and silence and something still unspoken.

After a long moment, you muttered, “This is going to be hell, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer right away. You could practically feel his smirk before you heard the quiet, amused, “Probably.”

—

It was dark.

The kind of hotel-room dark where everything still glowed a little—exit signs, charger lights, the soft neon spill from the parking lot outside. The AC kicked on in bursts, but it couldn’t do a damn thing about the heat. Not really. Not when you were there. Right beside him. Close enough to hear the rustle of sheets every time you moved.

Frankie laid on his back and stared at the ceiling like it had answers.

It didn’t.

His whole body was tense. Achey. Muscles tight from travel, from the stress of the room mishap, from the million things he wanted to say but hadn’t. From you—from the way you sat cross-legged earlier, arms crossed and eyes full of fire, announcing he’d be sleeping on the floor like it was a threat. From the way you gave in, flopped onto the mattress like the bed was the enemy instead of him.

Now you were right there, inches apart, yet somehow farther than you’d ever been.

Breathing slow. Not asleep—he could tell. Your body was too still, too aware.

He kept his hands folded over his stomach. Kept them there even though every part of him screamed to reach across the divide. He wanted to brush his knuckles down your arm. To feel if your skin was as warm as he imagined. To see if you’d flinch or lean into it.

He turned his head, just enough to see the faint outline of you. You were facing away from him. The dip of your waist, the shape of your shoulder, your hair spilled across the pillow. Messy, sleepy. Perfect.

Fuck, he wanted to touch you.

Not just to fuck you—though yeah, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. About the way you kissed him that night in the car like you meant it, like you’d been holding back for months. He’d thought about it too many nights since. Thought about your mouth, your breath, the sound you made when you finally kissed him back. He’d touched himself to the memory of you. More than once. Quiet nights that felt too heavy, too long. 

He didn’t know what stopped him from texting you again. Maybe it was fear—of screwing things up, of saying the wrong thing. But then again, what was there to ruin if it never even really started? Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t texted him either.

And yet, here you were, squeezed into this painfully small bed. He couldn’t sleep—could barely breathe under the weight of it all: his feelings, the tension, and the thick, humid air pressing down on him like a hand on his chest.

He shut his eyes.

“Summer,” he whispered before he could stop himself.

He didn’t even know what he was asking or if you were still awake. If you remembered the kiss. If you felt it too—this crackling in the air between you, thick with all the things unsaid.

You didn’t answer, but you shifted.

You rolled over slowly, quietly, until he could feel your face turned toward his in the dark. So close now, he could taste the heat of your skin, and it traveled down his spine, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

“You still think this was a bad idea?”

A long pause.

Then, barely a breath: “I don’t know.”

That wrecked him, because it wasn’t a no and it wasn’t a yes. It was uncertainty and want and hope all rolled into one. It was the closest thing to a confession either of you had managed in weeks, months.

Frankie swallowed hard as he turned toward you, just a little.

Didn’t touch you, didn’t move closer even if everything in him screamed at him to do it. The silence held you both in place while the night stretched on forever, tormenting, relentless.

You didn’t say anything else, or moved, didn’t push or pull away. But Frankie could hear you breathing. Could feel it, actually—soft exhales brushing his skin like whispers, like maybe your mouth was closer than he thought.

He didn’t plan it.

Just reached out, slow and quiet, like you might spook if he did it too fast—and brushed a strand of your hair back from your face. It clung to your cheek, damp from heat or sweat or just the impossible pressure of lying here like this, pretending the tension between you wasn’t real.

His knuckles grazed your skin, soft and barely there.

You inhaled, just a bit too sharply—enough for him to know it affected you too. And that alone nearly undid him.

“I think about it,” he whispered.

He didn’t clarify what, he didn’t have to. You knew.

The kiss. The way you leaned in first. The way it ruined him for anything else after.

Your breath hitched.

Then—so quietly he might’ve imagined it—you whispered, “Me too.”

His hand lingered near your jaw, your skin warm and soft under his touch. He couldn’t stop himself—his thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, gentle and reverent, like you weren’t just a girl in his bed in Florida but something more, something he’d been reaching for his entire life.

You didn’t stop him, just looked at him in the dark, eyes shimmering in the indirect light. 

And Frankie—wrecked, wanting, hopeless—did nothing. He let his hand fall away eventually, lying back against the pillow. He stared at the ceiling like it owed him something he wasn’t sure he could have.

But you didn’t turn away this time. You stayed facing him as you drifted off to sleep. Looking like a fucking painting, one they put in the Louvre. And that—God, that was enough to keep him awake all night.

—- 

Frankie woke up to a cold side of the bed.

The thin hotel sheet tangled around his legs, the sun already too bright through the slats of the blinds, and that same too-thick Florida heat pressing into his lungs. He blinked, sat up slowly, and looked over—You were gone.

A note would’ve been too much. A text might’ve made it real. This fleeting moment of softness between you. Instead, all he had was the faintest ghost of your scent on the pillow beside him, the echo of your breathing from the night before still stuck in his ribs.

You said, me too.

And he hadn’t done a damn thing about it. Idiot.

He dragged himself out of bed eventually. Took a lukewarm shower that did nothing to fix the ache in his chest or the throb of heat low in his spine that hadn’t really gone away since the moment you curled up next to him.

You’d stayed close. You stayed.

And then you left.

It was fine. He wasn’t spiraling about it, not really.

He trimmed his beard, put on the button-down Will had made him promise to wear, and showed up to the hotel garden for the ceremony like he wasn’t unraveling slowly from the inside out.

And then he saw you.

And his entire brain just short-circuited.

You stood near the front, helping Monica adjust her veil with that signature soft concentration on your face, the one you didn’t even know you wore. Your dress—deep green, silky, low-backed and fucking dangerous—clung to every curve he’d only imagined before. And you looked over your shoulder at someone calling your name, just for a second, smiled, and his knees almost gave out.

“Holy shit,” Benny said beside him, not even pretending to be subtle. “She’s hot.”

Frankie didn’t answer, he couldn’t. Just stared, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Because yeah, you were hot.

But more than that—you were you. The girl who acted like she couldn’t stand him but still teased him until he couldn’t help but smirk. The girl who fought him over the worst playlists, only to laugh it off like you didn’t mean it, like there wasn’t some truth hidden beneath every sharp word. Never afraid to call him out on his bullshit. The girl who, after all the pretending, ended up curled into him in the dark, whispering truths neither of you could admit when the light was on.

And now you were in this dress, at your shared friend's wedding. Looking like that.

Frankie swallowed. Shoved his hands deep into his pockets like that could somehow ground him, keep him from flying apart. Because you were standing there arms crossed like you weren’t aware of the fucking chaos you caused just by existing. You looked gorgeous. Infuriatingly, impossibly gorgeous. And it lit him up from the inside out, burned through every last thread of restraint he had left.

He hated that you could do this to him. That after everything—after months of pretending, of sharp words and colder silences—his body still reacted like you were gravity.

You were laughing at something someone said, eyes crinkled, drink in hand, and he hated how badly he wanted to be the one making you laugh like that. You were infuriating. Sharp-tongued, stubborn, a menace to his peace—and the only thing that had felt right in months.

Benny followed his gaze, then let out a low whistle. “You’ve got that dumb face again.”

Frankie didn’t answer.

“She’s not even doing anything, man. Just breathing. And you’re over here looking like she invented it.”

Frankie exhaled slowly, jaw tight. “She drives me insane.”

Benny snorted. “Yeah? I’d say you've been in love with her ever since that party at Santi’s—when you found out she was Monica’s childhood friend.”

Frankie cut him a look, but Benny just grinned. “What? You remember it. You stared at her like she walked off a goddamn movie screen.”

Frankie’s voice was rough, quiet. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

“And now?” Benny raised a brow.

Frankie looked back at you—your smile, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear like you didn’t know you were leveling him. “Still don’t.”

Benny clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re so screwed.”

Frankie nodded once. “Yeah, I know.”

thanks for reading 💌

next part

main masterlist

most recent work

tags: @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @dendulinka6 @greenwitchfromthewoods @joelsgoodgirl @copperhalfcent @whirlwindrider29 @picketniffler @noovaarq @inept-the-magnificent @kakiki3 @rav3n-pascal22 @matchalov3

[deliciouskeys]

Beware the Patient Woman (my foray into Sagelander)

This is set right after season 4. I don’t address anything beyond Sagelander. Ashley disappeared. Ryan is presumed returned to Vought Tower, maybe staying in a different room while they have to renovate Homelander’s apartment top to bottom. This is either a standalone or a chapter 1, idk. Had to get it out of my system. Rated PG cause I'm lazy/ a coward? (for now). AO3 link.

Sage may not have x-ray vision but she can tell who’s behind the door by the sound of the knock before she opens it. She didn’t have time to change out of her pajamas, but at least she was awake.

"May I come in?" he asks, peering down at her before his eyes start roving around the room.

"Of course," she says, even though she was looking forward to lying around in bed before having to put her suit on and trot out to the board meetings.

"Sorry, I know it’s early. I couldn’t really sleep last night." He walks in, almost brushing past her, arms clasped behind his back and hidden by the American flag cape billowing slightly behind him, so close that she has to lean back slightly to avoid getting an eagle beak to the face. But he didn’t mean disrespect by it, just distracted by looking all around the room.

"This was so much emptier when Maeve lived here," he remarks, stepping around various small pieces of furniture, nearly all stacked with books.

"I’m sure she needed the space to practice her combat techniques."

"Yeah or her drinking or her threesomes. I’m not sure she had the attention span to read a book in her life," he mumbles angrily, and Sage doesn’t like where this conversation is going at all. She knew there might be a downside to being given the room where Homelander’s old flame used to live.

"Did you want to discuss something?" she says, trying to keep any impatience out of her voice.

He turns around sharply to face her. "I really wanted to thank you for… everything that happened yesterday. I couldn’t even articulate how grateful I was for what you did for me."

For him, he thinks, despite her telling him point-blank that she did it to see if she could. But she was banking on his gratitude and on the high value he places on loyalty.

"You’re so very welcome. But I only did what you hired me to do," she says, cautiously, hoping this will emphasize that she may not necessarily have any interest in going beyond what she was hired to do. Maintaining boundaries with a man like this was always important.

"No, no." One of his hands emerges from behind his back to wag a finger at her. "Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about. You did what I hired you to do, sure, but you did it even after I dismissed you. I’m not stupid, Sage. I know you could have used that brain of yours to fuck me thrice over and get revenge for how badly I treated you. I admit, I underestimated you. I did a dangerous thing, letting you go, when you were my best ally all along. So I… I know you could have made things worse for me, but you chose to side with me anyway. I was absolutely wrong about you, and it won’t happen again. I will listen to you, like I promised."

Sage hesitates. He’s saying all the right things, but these hollow promises aren’t worth much when they’ll fall to the wayside the next time he gets fed up with her. No, he’s leading up to something, and she’s wary of what might come next, so she’s not sure how she should reply to steer the conversation away.

"That’s good to hear. And no hard feelings, trust me."

Homelander nods. "Yeah, trust. I do want to ask you one thing. It’s just… I do trust you, but could I just ask you to keep me in the loop? No more lies?"

"I don’t think I ever outright lied to you," Sage answers, taking a deep breath, trying to keep her breath steady. Was this human powderkeg about to explode again? She thought she had him placated for at least a few weeks, but maybe she’s miscalculating just how paranoid he is. It's hard to feel completely calm when he's standing over her, forcing her to tilt her face upwards to meet his gaze.

"Well I’m including lying by omission," he says, but then his expression changes, softens strangely, and he steps back as if realizing that he's been looming over her. "I’m sorry, you’re misunderstanding, I didn’t come here to threaten you in any way. I just wanted to… maybe just establish best practices, going forward."

Shit, her heart rate must have spiked, finally given away that she was getting nervous. "Oh yeah, I understand. I appreciate that. Let’s discuss that."

Homelander shakes his head, wincing. "Look, I really don’t mean to dictate how you should work. I realize I’m doing it automatically. I’m catching myself telling you what to do again. I respect that you might not want to tell me everything– I do. I’ll be honest, it is a blow to the ego, and I’m not used to it, because… well you’ve seen the caliber of idiots that I've had to deal with. I’m not used to trusting someone else." 

He looks … unsure of himself? Is he genuinely apologetic? Sage is so reluctant to interpret anything he says as benign and without ulterior motives, but it’s tempting to believe him right now. She’s really at a loss for words, content to let him just keep talking and explain himself.

"So… I take back everything I said," Homelander mutters, his mouth folding even thinner as soon as he says it. "I trust you so much that I allow you to lie by omission. But if I ask you something, I’d really like a straight answer. Call it my weakness. I’m not a details guy. I’m not aspiring to look over your shoulder and micromanage your plans. But I just- I just need a little something in return for the trust. I need to be able to check in once in a while and know you won’t lie to my face."

Sage can’t believe she’s getting to watch this man wrestle with himself, threatening to spiral out while trying to define what’s important to him and what’s reasonable to ask of her. He’s debating with himself with only the barest input from her. She needs to nip this in the bud. She’s never felt that comfortable seeing him cry, and she doesn’t want things to get to that point, where she’ll have to comfort him instead of just reassuring him. "Hey listen. I love working with you. You’re giving me the opportunity of a lifetime. I’ll gladly discuss plans with you if you’re really interested in the boring details." Maybe she’s overselling it a bit, but he looks like he recovers his poise at least. 

"Anyway, that’s not even what I came here to ask you." he says, his tone sounding more like his usual self. "I wanted to invite you out for dinner. Just as a small token of appreciation- ah-ah! Nope!" he says, raising his hand as she tries to interrupt him. "Don’t say no before you hear the proposition. I found out you like sushi."

Sage’s blood runs a little cold at hearing him know something about her that she doesn’t think she ever revealed to anybody on staff at Vought.

"I located your mother and asked her a little about you over the phone last night," he says, as if guessing the question in her mind. Of course he did. He probably thinks that gives him leverage over her. Well, joke’s on him, because she hasn’t been in much contact with her mom, they haven’t gotten along since she was a teenager, and she’s not going to be manipulated by him threatening her mom. But her mom is right that she likes sushi.

"Oh yeah?" Sage asks, summoning a genuine looking smile to her face because she’s not sure how well he can tell when her mind starts running at triple speed when she’s feeling pressure. "I do love me some sushi. And I haven’t tried that many places since moving here, because it’s been so busy."

"Great!" he says, and now his smile looks genuine too, the fleeting reference to her family thankfully fading out of their conversation. "I’ve rented out this place called Masa night. You’re gonna love it. Three Michelin stars and all that. Best sushi in New York."

"Yeah, tonight works," Sage says, hoping it’s not too rude to imply that his setting her daily schedule for her is overstepping, his certainty that she’s going to love hanging out with him is overstepping. 

"Usually I wouldn’t put you through the hassle of going out, just have the chefs come to work at the Vought kitchen and host it at my place, but you know… my place is a bit of a disaster zone right now and yours… well I don’t wanna disturb your little setup you’ve got going on here."

Yes, there’s a problem she needs to solve as soon as possible brewing here. She’s very fucking glad she’s not being invited to dinner at his place. "So is there a dress code? Do I have to wear my superhero suit?"

Homelander scoffs. "I’ve rented it out. No paps, no photos. You can come in whatever you damn well please. Wear sweatpants if you want. This is all for you!" He smiles again, and it’s really genuine, and now she’s concerned that her fears are true. In his mind, this is a date.

"Just you and me?" she verifies, and when he nods she takes a deep breath and says something risky, but better now than later. "Just so you know– I don’t really do romantic relationships. I’ve slept with a couple of members of the Seven, but you don’t strike me as the kind of person who would want to get in on that action."

Homelander blinks, clearly taken aback. "It’s just dinner with a colleague," he says, but his tone is halting. "I don’t- that’s none of my business what you do in your free time with-" he licks his lips and Sage tries to guess what bothers him most about this. "Were you sleeping with A-Train? Is that how you knew?"

"No, I don’t mix work and pleasure like that." Sage can’t help but laugh a little. "I can tell you with whom. ‘No more secrets’, right? Noir and the Deep."

Sage can practically hear the wheels in Homelander’s head turning as he tries to picture it. "Huh," he says. "Well that’s uh… your prerogative certainly." Is that hurt in his voice? Maybe disbelief that she’d fuck people he considers far beneath him?

"Exactly. I assumed that someone like you would have no problem with workplace hookups," she says, shrugging. "Being part of the Seven isn’t really a normal gig. It’s so full-time, it’s your entire life. Might as well get some fun out of it."

"Yeah, makes sense," he mutters, trailing off, still thinking.

"So tonight then? What time?" she asks.

He snaps out of his thoughts. "I rented it out for the entire evening. So anytime from five onward. Up to you."

"Seven then?" she says. He nods and walks out stiffly. Sage shuts the door and leans back against it. She has to navigate this right. This overpowered manchild doesn’t have a good track record of keeping work and pleasure separate, but she can’t rebuff him in a way that insults him. She thought she was in the clear– that someone like her would never attract that kind of attention from him. She needed to be smart about this.

[blushblushbear]

Wrote a quick fic of @ren-054's Vitya and Nimh based off a drawing they did of them (and also cause I think they make a dang cute little couple!)

Mildly suggestive, most just sensual!

more under the cut!

At the start of it, Nimh was just trying to be more flexible. 

He wasn’t getting any younger and it was never too early to start trying to take care of your body; but given his heart condition, anything high impact or high cardio was out. 

He had attempted a yoga class but it was just too much! And all of that relaxing new wave zen music blasting while he was struggling did not help to relax him actually…

So on a weird whim, he took up a dance class.

It was beginner ballet. He knows that’s probably a bit weird but something about it called to him. He wasn’t about to drop it all and be a dancer or anything, but he was enjoying himself!

Actually, what he was really enjoying was his dreamy teacher with the dashing smile. It wasn’t why he joined or anything, or even why he stuck to it for months, but he had to admit the first time that elegant ray of sunshine beamed into the class he felt his knees get a little weak. And it didn’t hurt that the teacher was probably one of the most chill and encouraging people he’d ever met. Between his pretty face and charming personality;

Yeah, Nimh had to admit it, he had a little crush going. 

He’d never act on it of course, he’s way too much of a coward for that! But just being able to be around him once a week, to see him glide around swan as he watched over the class, to see that smile, to hear that voice– it got him through many a tough week.

And occasionally when he felt his hand on him– supporting his back, adjusting his stance, stretching his leg just a bit further– it was accompanied by the feeling of his heart leaping into his throat. 

Not that Vitya needed to know that.

Oh yeah, and his name was Vitya. Just when Nimh thought he couldn’t get more dreamy… 

He was trying to clear his head and focus on breathing as he stood there, eyes closed, bent over, back straight, feet in an awkward fourth position because he couldn’t handle fifth yet, one arm outstretched as gracefully as he could manage (which is to say, not really at all), while the other death gripped onto the balance bar above so that he didn’t fall flat on his face… again… 

“Your face is turning red again.” Vitya’s voice sounded so close, and when Nimh opened his eyes, he nearly jumped when he saw Vitya’s face just under his. And so so close… “You’re holding your breath again.” Vitya said with a bit of a pout, “You need to BREATHE.” He took a deep breath in to demonstrate, making it all look so easy as he practically folded himself in half to lower his face to meet Nimh’s. Nimh took in a deep breath, and exhaled it shakily, his limbs wobbling a little making him feel even more embarrassed than he already did. 

“Excellent!” He chirped, rising to a full stand with seemingly no effort at all. “Alright class, deep breath in–” a collective inhale, “and as we rise, exhale out! Good!” Nimh was grateful Vitya had sauntered on, so he wouldn’t catch how shakily he lifted his back, or how red his face still was– albeit for… different reasons. 

Even though he enjoyed himself, Nimh realized he hadn’t gotten much more flexible in the months he’d been coming to the class. He wondered why he hadn’t just been kicked out at this point. And when Vitya called to him at the end of class, for a brief moment, he worried he was about to be…

As the rest of the class filtered out for the day, Nimh and Vitya were left alone. 

“Hey,” Vitya began, his smile still sweet, but his eyes seemed a bit more concerned, “I’ve noticed you’re still having some trouble… This was my last class for the day and I was wondering– if you’re down to stay a few extra minutes, I’d really like to work with you one on one for a bit.”

Nimh screamed internally. 

It was bad enough he had to deal with his dumb little crush head on in the moments Vitya hovered around him, but having to do that ALONE. 

“I mean– if you don’t have the time today that’s fine…” 

His brain was scrambling, trying to find a way to say no, but as he looked at Vitya’s face (his stupidly handsome face, as it pouted at him, hand on a cocked hip and the other hand hooked against his other arm in a pose only a dancer standing idly would pull) he couldn’t find it in him to turn Vitya down. 

“N-no, I have a few minutes I could spare…” Nimh stuttered out. Vitya’s face was immediately beaming.

“Wonderful, let’s jump right into it then!” 

Within a few minutes Nimh was back standing at the bar, posing the same as he had earlier, only now he had Vitya’s full attention as he shakily lowered himself.

Vitya circled him as he bent over, eyes studying Nimh’s movements. 

“I know it’s hard for you,” Vitya began as he came up behind Nimh, “but you have to bend lower.” Nimh felt Vitya’s hand on his lower back and a chill rushed up his spin as Vitya began to gently push him lower. “That’s it…” Vitya cooed, hand slowly sliding up Nimh’s spine towards his shoulder blades, “bend further… remember to breathe…” Nimh could hear the smile in Vitya’s voice, but it felt… different… almost coy… and as Vitya leaned over him from behind, pushing Nimh further down, he wondered which was more inappropriate; this position, or the fact that having Vitya behind him with his hand on his back was putting the wildest images into his mind. 

Images of his hot dance instructor. Images of said instructor bending him over like this to have his way with him. Images of Nimh panting as Vitya, firm but gentle, gave him everything he had…

Nimh exhaled out shakily (though shaky for different reasons this time), closed his eyes, and tried to clear his head. His heart was pounding, and he was certain he was blushing from ear to ear. Vitya chuckled behind him. Nimh had never heard Vitya sound so playful, as the words,

“Good, very good…” escaped Vitya’s lips and made Nimh’s knees go a little weak. 

And then Vitya’s hand was gone.

Nimh blinked his eyes open, suddenly remembering where he was. 

“And now, rise up slowly.” Vitya said cheerily, circling around again and landing towards Nimh’s front. Nimh rose up slowly, quietly cursing how all it took was one dreamy dance instructor to turn him into a pervert apparently. What had he even been thinking? He closed his eyes, and bit his lip embarrassed. 

Vitya smiled, cocking his head slyly at Nimh. 

“Your hips aren’t square enough.” Vitya said in a very matter of fact manner, “You need to keep your hips straight.” He walked over to Nimh again, coming around behind him once more as he set his hands on Nimh’s hips, moving them a bit forcefully into the correct posture. “See, like this, they need to stay like this as you move. They’re perfectly fine as you go down, but once you come back up they’re all tilted.”

Nimh heard Vitya’s voice, but he took in none of the words he said. The moment Vitya’s hands were on his hips, Nimh’s head went all fuzzy.

“Try it once more.” Vitya instructed.

“Wh–huh?”

“Bend over again, and this time try and keep your hips squared.” 

Oh GOD.

With a gulp, Nimh began to bend over once more. 

“That’s it. Nice and steady…” one of Vitya’s hands was on his back again, “Remember to keep your back straight. Yes, just like that!” 

Yep. Nimh was bent over in front of his sexy ass dance teacher while said sexy ass dance teacher was behind him with one hand on his hip and the other on his back.

And Nimh was internally screaming again. 

He couldn’t tell if this was a dream or a nightmare but wow was it sure fantasy fodder for later… 

He tried to not think about it as his cheeks burned and he rose back up slowly.

“There you go,” Vitya continued, hand still on Nimh’s back, guiding him back up just as steadily as he lowered him, “And then– you’re back up! Shoulders square, hips square,” Vitya’s hand smoothed to Nimh’s front as he pulled Nimh back a bit, “back straight.” Nimh chanced a nervous glance at Vitya whose face was so close to his, smile all beam and eyes focused in on Nimh’s face. “Perfect.” 

Nimh stood there frozen for a moment, until a small gasp made him realize he had stopped breathing again. 

“O-oh… Uh… I…”

“Once more.”

“Huh? Oh! U-uh…”

With Vitya’s hands still resting on him, Nimh began to slowly lower again. Vitya still guided him, but more lightly than before. And before Nimh knew it, he was doubled over in front of his teacher again.

“And back up,” Vitya’s hand slid up Nimh’s side, guiding him to rise again, this time stopping a little up his arm. “Excellent. And back down,” Vitya’s thumb that rested at Nimh’s hip gave a little push and once again Nimh lowered. It was starting to feel a lot easier with Vitya guiding him. His hands helping to ease Nimh into the movements. He didn’t mean to, but he felt himself give his body over to Vitya’s control. It was forceful and gentle, bright yet sly, demanding yet sweet, and most of all– playful.

After a few more bends, Nimh eased back against Vitya again, stretching up and draping himself over his form as he panted lightly. His cheeks were flushed, eyes half lidded and mind hazy as he looked back at Vitya, who greeted him with a warm yet knowing smirk.

“There you are. See, you were practically in half on that last one.” Nimh was only half paying attention to Vitya’s words. His body felt so closely pressed against his, Nimh’s eyes on Vitya’s lips with a sudden urge to kiss him. Vitya noticed… “Nimh… you… you like me don’t you?” Nimh’s eyes went back to Vitya’s, lips pressing into an embarrassed line. Nimh couldn’t say it, but his expression answered for him. Vitya chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you out like that. I just…” his hand slid up Nimh’s arm and took his hand, never breaking eye contact as he lowered it and giving it a small kiss. “I’ve noticed.” Vitya winked.

Nimh snapped back to reality, whole face turning red as he took a step away from Vitya, hands covering his mouth and eyes wide. 

Vitya cocked his head curiously.

“Sorry… was that not alright?” he asked, eyes soft with concern.

“No… I MEAN– NOT ‘NO’ NO! NO! I MEAN, YES! I MEAN—” Nimh’s eyes darted around the room trying to get a grip, “what I mean to say is…” he paused, looking over at Vitya. He let out a small sigh, “I was just… surprised… is all… that was fine… b-better than fine actually…”

Vitya smiled, stepping closer to Nimh, who was still a stammering mess, but he didn’t step back. Vitya leaned in close, took Nimh’s hand again, and gave it another kiss.

“Good. I really was hoping to keep helping my favorite student.” the word ‘favorite’ dripped out of his mouth like honey and with another playful smirk he leaned in closer and whispered against Nimh’s ear “Though next time, I would like to give a more… private lesson.”A shiver ran up Nimh’s spine. Vitya pulled back and, with a look that was a mix of sly and puppy dog, asked, “Is that alright?” 

Nimh nodded like crazy in response.

“Wonderful!” Vitya beamed. He pulled his phone out, and with a playful smile said, “Give me your number, and we’ll work on some real flexibility together.”

[pinknipszz]

golden girl

↷ ˊ- neteyam/metkayina reader | (i.), (ii.), (iii.), (iv.)

“golden girl, golden smile, please don’t go, please stay a while”

neteyam had grown used to the marui, though he’ll never admit it aloud, especially not when he had spent the first few nights twisting back and forth and grumbling quietly to himself. he couldn’t avoid his father’s stern lecture the following morning, but if he could disturb jake’s sleep to spite him, then so be it. but ever since the tidepools, something in him changed. it started with simple things like the marui.

now, the woven floor felt nice under his feet. if neteyam looked closely—which he would have never done before—he could see each braid of dried leaves from a nearby palm, realizing that only someone who excelled in their craft could create such intricate patterns. briefly, he wondered if you were also well-versed in weaving. surely you were. how could a wonderful woman not be?

perhaps his growing fondness for the family marui—and inevitably you—is why he decided to opt out of today’s lessons. sure, he felt a pinch of shame. neteyam was never such a coward back home, but the sea made him vulnerable, dragging him in and swallowing him whole. 

he paid the price for letting his mind wander. in the midst of thinking about you and what you could have been doing on this beautiful day, he felt a sharp pain run through his finger. “shit.” neteyam hissed, dropping the arrowhead he was carving. he brushed off the dust that collected and inspected the small cut. it wasn’t all that bad, certainly not something he should stop working over.

he resumed his work and ignored the ache as if nothing had happened. it was clear that he hadn’t learned his lesson, either, letting his mind wander back to you. if you saw the wound on his finger, would you fix it for him? would you rub a salve over it and tell him what it’s made of? would you bring him the next time you forage for plants to make some more? 

“you look happier these days.”

neteyam blinked and looked up from his seat on the floor. his mother stood at the foot of the entrance with a basket full of fruit hanging from her hip. she said it so matter-a-factly that he knew not to question her implication. neteyam dropped the unfinished arrowhead and rose to his feet, bringing the basket inside and stealing a peak at its contents. “what makes you say that, sa’nok?”

she huffed. “do not play dumb with me.” though, the glare in her eyes softened at her eldest son. the move had been hard for all of them, she knew it well. the grief, the heartache of being ripped from your home. so when she noticed that her son was finally growing accustomed to their refuge, a weight had been lifted off of neytiri’s chest. “why don’t you join the others outside?”

“it’s because he found a girlfriend.” lo’ak teased, suddenly appearing from behind her, and neytiri gave him a look. he walked past their mother and into their home, ignoring the wet footsteps he left in his wake. so they went swimming again, neteyam thought as he watched lo’ak rummaging through his things for a dry rug. “you better watch it. and dry yourself before you touch anything next time.” 

lo’ak stuck out his tongue and reached over to tug his older brother’s ear, his face smug knowing he had the upper hand. neteyam hissed and swatted him away, though it didn’t go unnoticed to anyone that he didn’t deny it. “mind your own business skxawng.” the word teetered towards a growl. but lo’ak simply shrugged and left once dry.

an awkward silence stretched between them, before his mother broke it.

“why didn’t you tell me, ma evi?” it was an honest question said with such softness that was nearly unfitting of neytiri’s usual nature.

neteyam cleared his throat, painfully unconvincing. “we aren’t together, ma. she’s just a friend.” he emptied the basket she brought and ignored her pointed stare.

neytiri wasn’t stupid. sure, she sometimes lost track of her children’s antics in between adjusting to their refuge and learning from the tsahik. her children were many, all of whom were different. some required more attention, especially tuk, but that didn’t mean she cared less about her eldest. she didn’t even need a name to know who he was referring to. but she let it rest. for now. 

neytiri made quick work of the fruits she picked, peeling and chopping with skill. neteyam continued to shape the arrowhead meanwhile. 

“why do you make a new arrowhead?” neytiri asked without looking at him, her face twisted with concentration as she carefully peeled the skin between the grooves. neteyam watched her for a moment, knowing that she did that for jake, who found the fruit’s skin bitter. “i figured i’d put the scrap to good use.” he said. “it was the right size and length. i might need it one day.”

neytiri hummed. “you plan to fight with just your bow?”

at that, neteyam’s actions came to a full stop, and he looked at his mother with wide eyes. “you don’t?”

“of course i do.” she huffed. “i have an honor to live up to.” neytiri moved the cut fruit to a clean bowl and wiped her hands. then, she reached for the next. “but you and i are different. if you find yourself in battle without a bow, or your ikran, what will you resort to? you could have used the forest to your advantage, even without a weapon, but the same can’t be said here.”

neytiri watched a small realization wash over her eldest son. pleased, she continued in silence and left him to soak in his thoughts. 

she was chopping up the last fruit when you unexpectedly came over, flashing a kind smile and apologizing for the intrusion. neytiri reassured you that it was anything but that, before ushering you inside. you greeted neteyam and explained to them that the day’s lessons were coming to an end, and the others would be coming home shortly. 

there was a little accident with lo’ak, you told them. he lost control of himself under a wave and found his foot wedged between the coral. you nearly chuckled at their exasperated expressions, so similar in every way, that leaned more towards annoyance than concern. when you turned to leave, believing that you overstayed your welcome, neytiri pulled you back in. she insisted that you stayed.

you found yourself enjoying your conversations with her. she was one of the fiercest women you knew, something she surely takes pride in. she spoke with certainty and confidence, and she chided you like a mother when you politely refused the fruit she offered. 

something shiny glinted in the corner of your eye, and you briefly pulled your attention away from neytiri. “what are you holding, neteyam?” you tilted your head at the boy who hardly said a thing since you arrived.

he looked down for a moment, before looking back at you. “it’s just a spearhead i’ve been working on.”

(masterlist)

[xxchromies]

Antinatalism is dumb

I support women not being forced to have children (obviously) and I of course am happy that more and more people are choosing to opt out of children because they don't feel like they'd be good parents. This expectation that everyone SHOULD have children is extremely problematic.

All that being said, antinatalism has gotta be one of the dumbest, pessimistic, dead-end philosophies out there. I recognize that a lot of them are radical feminists, but a lot of them are men and I abhor the way they talk about pregnant women/mothers. I won't deny that there aren't any non-selfish reasons to have children, but at the same time I think parenthood (especially motherhood) is one of the most selfless things you can do. Possibly the most selfless, provided you're an actually good parent. The urge to have biological children and spread your genes is a part of nature. It may be selfish but so is eating and drinking.

They never seem to take things to their logical conclusion. If life is inherently suffering and immoral why don't they kill themselves? Some do, but most don't and refuse to answer the question because they don't have an answer. They are miserable and they project their suffering onto everyone. Most people think the good outweighs the bad. It's also such a red flag because if you place negative value on life itself, then why would you care if someone was murdered? You might even think that person was lucky! The second-deadliest school shooting in America was done by an antinatalist. It's very likely he thought he was "saving" the people he killed as well as himself. He even killed his own mom who sacrificed everything for him. Piece of shit. But he took things to their logical conclusion. Most antinatalists are cowards who can't admit how fucked up the implications of their ideology really are.

It's just so antisocial. I don't see how it couldn't infect every interaction you have with someone who is a parent. Or any interaction you have with children. Or honestly just any interaction with anybody. It's such a cop-out. An excuse to not participate in life at all because by their logic humans shouldn't even exist. What is the end goal? For us all to die out? They say that it wouldn't matter because life is meaningless and everything is pointless and I admit that they are right on a purely philosophical level. But just because you don't "see the point" doesn't mean you are morally superior to everyone else. You're just an antisocial dickhead. I can't believe they expect us to take them seriously.

I do believe the ability to create life is beautiful and sacred (not in a trad way) and that's why it's especially important that people not be pressured to bring life into the world if they don't truly want to. I don't fuck with any "radical feminist" who thinks it's okay to denigrate and act morally superior to mothers. Women are damned if they do, damned if they don't. If you don't have kids you will be called selfish. If you have children you will be called selfish. Fuck off.

It's just depression with a pseudo-intellectual twist and it's borderline psychopathic. "Childfree" people also often get a little weird with it, and I take issue with that. I can't stand the way many of them talk about children and parents (usually mothers). It reeks of jealousy, honestly. Smells like cope.

[lords-of-mayhem]

Eurovarg Playlist

Lies // Marina and the Diamonds

You're never gonna love me, so what's the use? What's the point in playing a game you're gonna lose? What's the point in saying you love me like a friend? What's the point in saying it's never gonna end?

You're too proud to say that you made a mistake, you're a coward 'til the end. I don't wanna admit that we're not gonna fit. No, I'm not the type that you like. Why don't we just pretend?

You only ever touch me in the dark. Only if we're drinking, can you see my spark? And only in the evening, could you give yourself to me? 'Cause the night is your woman and she'll set you free.

Lies, don't wanna know. I can't let you go, I just want it to be perfect. To believe it's all been worth the fight. Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know.

Dinner And Diatribes // Hozier

Honey, this club here is stuck up, dinner and diatribes. I knew it from the first look of, the look of mischief in your eyes. Your friends are a fate that befell me, head is a talking type.

I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight. Let there be hotels complaints and grievances raised, let there be damage ensued and tabloid news.

The Main Character // Will Wood

I'm that perspective you cannot doubt, see how I look. Control the narrative reliably, baby, it's all about me. So now, I'm holding myself hostage. Stockholm lust just looks like justice.

So, God forbid I'm seen just as an average human being. I mean, imagine if protagonists just died in the first scene.

I'm the gap between tragedy and comedy. Don't come at me, I'm the main character and you have to like me.

Villains are everywhere, that's how I know that I'm the hero. So tie me to the train tracks, laugh, and snidely twist your mustache.

We all do what we need to to get through, but I ain't done a fucking thing to you. So, God forbid I'm seen just as an average human being.

I mean, imagine if antagonists lacked any evil scheme. I'm the gap between a tragedy and comedy. Don't come at me, I'm the main character and you have to like me.

You // Marina and the Diamonds

You don't know me like you think you do. You don't own me, but I can't cut you loose. Everybody thinks that you're a star, but underneath, I see just what you are.

We both know that we can never change, walking slowly through the smoke and flames. Yeah, you break me down. Yeah, you shut me out. But it's all about you.

I'm the main character, and you have to like me

I'm the gap between a tragedy and comedy

I know what you're about, but I need you now 'cause it's all about you. You don't love me like you think you do, you don't know that I'm just as bad as you.

Everybody thinks that I'm the heart of every party, but it's just the start. Deep down, I know that we're just the same, burning slowly through the dust and flames.

No Children // The Mountain Goats

I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us. I hope we come up with a fail-safe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us. I hope it's already too late.

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down, and I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away and I never come back to this town again in my life.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow, I hope it bleeds all day long.

I hope it stays dark forever, I hope the worst isn't over. I hope I never get sober. And I hope when you think of me years down the line, you can't find one good thing to say.

And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way. I am drowning, there is no sign of land. You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.

And I hope you die, I hope we both die.

Ready To Let Go // Cage The Elephant

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii. On both sides, the vow was broken. Oh my my, I'm the one trying to hide this damage done.

One day, all our secrets will be spoken. As we slow dance, I became your statue, frozen. Times I wonder, are we just a puff of smoke? Underneath this bed of ashes, still withholding everything like we were never close.

Sun went down, sun went down over Pompeii. On holy ground, our vows were broken. We met up, we broke bread. I was blue, your dress was red. Ain't it strange? We both knew this day was coming.

Don't you worry, baby, no sense trying to change it. Imma strike these matches, never had control. I'm ready to let go, no, was I fooling myself?

Imma spread these ashes, never had control. I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready to let go.

I/Me/Myself // Will Wood

I've been feeling lightheaded since I lost enough weight to fit back in my skin. Take my tea with formaldehyde for my feminine side since the day that I died.

While I whittle my bones until I'm brittle, am I pretty now? For some reason, I find myself lost in what you think of me and too confused to choose who I should be.

And now you've got me thinking: I wish I could be a girl and that way, you'd wish I could be your girlfriend.

I get dressed up in shadows one leg at a time, we're so alike. But if the shoe fits then I won't try it on and you'll be walking out early, but the show must go on.

No, I know that I'm wrong, but I love how you're on my side when I cross that line. It's been a point of contention between myself and this body that they stuck me in.

Say my name like a slur, but I've been called worse. And I've heard it all before, no, this isn't a first. Let me be the void you fill with.

Am I pretty enough to love back? No, not yet. Am I pretty enough, am I pretty enough to fucking die?

Well, I would give you my whole world. All identities are equally invalid, don't you think that there's a chance that you could live without it?

Spiderhead // Cage The Elephant

I am the one you left for dead and as you stand over my grave, you'll pause your lips upon my face.

Either I'm in heaven or I'm in hell. Am I losing my mind, yeah? Cause I can't tell. I've been waiting for answers for way too long, seems I'm always waiting around.

I think your mother wants me dead. Say you wanted to, I am a schizophrenic man. I wouldn't change you if I could.

Spiders in my head, spiders in my mind. You may take my eyes, but baby, I'm not blind. It all works out all right, you know I'm gonna be all right.

[isa-ghost]

Birds of a Feather AU - Phil & Crowley's Dynamic

A reminder: Crowley is o!Phil, Phil is hc/c/q!Phil!

More Birds of a Feather:

General Concept/Characters

Vague Plot

Phil is notorious for going out of his way to get on Crowley's nerves at times. It's not that he's malicious, and it's not that he dislikes the guy (but he certainly doesn't Like him), it's just so easy to do and so fun to watch! Crowley can be so immature and predictable at times, it's just so easy for this salty immortal bird bastard to entertain himself by getting on his "tory traveling companion's" shitlist.

And Crowley does it right back. He finds just the right topics or stupid questions to ask Phil. Sometimes he even gets on his nerves without trying to, like when he whines about not having a specific resource or having to put in an effort to get said resources instead of having them handed to him.

Phil is the one that named Crowley that. That's not his name. Phil is not calling him Phillip or whatever his actual name is. "Fuck you, you're Crowley. L."

Inversely, Crowley refuses to call Phil Phil out of spite. Old Man, Bastard Bird, Other Crow Guy, Death Angel Or Whatever. Anything that isn't "Phil" or "Philza." Purely out of petty spite.

One thing's for certain though: Neither of them will sink too low. No going after personal traumas. They're petty, they're just jesting and aggravating each other, not trying to make enemies.

They convincingly act like they hate each other though, and honestly they might just a shred. But the moment there's danger, their true colors show. Phil will launch himself between Crowley and a hostile mob, Crowley takes excessive pleasure in killing baby zombies for Phil, both of them will throw down with a motherfucker for talking shit about the other, Crowley actually finds Phil's stories about past endeavors really fascinating (he loves Antarctic Empire stories), Phil secretly sees great potential in Crowley ("if he can grow the fuck up"). Deep down, they realize they're currently all they have, and they're not gonna take that for granted because neither of them can tolerate the soul crushing feeling of being alone.

Their relationship is NOT familal. You could hardly call them mentor/student, even though that's what they're meant to be. Phil is passing on his centuries of wisdom to Crowley for him to fend for himself properly. And directing the reigns in where they go because explorer brain is locked in, and Crowley needs to learn how to navigate rather than aimlessly wander.

All their actual bonding happens late at night, when they're both unable to sleep because their heartaches are haunting them and their only company is each other and a campfire.

Despite all his bitching and adamant refusal to admit it, Crowley deeply admires Phil once they've been traveling together long enough. His raw power, his seemingly infinite skills, his tenacity and stubbornness. Phil is exactly what Crowley wants to be.

Similarly, Phil won't admit it but he thinks Crowley can not only learn the things he needs to to survive on his own, but has the potential to excel at them so long as he stops being so entitled and turns his snobbism and fear into motivation.

But he's seen many times that Crowley is a coward. There's no other way to put it. And that worries him deeply. He's talked about bits of his past to Crowley, like the fairly recent possession ordeal (Crowley asked about his wings and Phil did Not have a good time with it). The thought of any of Ender King getting in Crowley's head terrifies Phil. It'd be so easy, and he hates that, because he desperately wants to have more faith in Crowley; especially as more time goes on. But he just knows he's too tempted by seemingly easy solutions.

On that note, Crowley may be a "dumb, bratty asshole with a silver spoon in his mouth and no life experience," but he's still observant. He can tell when Phil is grappling with some kinda demons in his head (Phil gets waaay too anxious about being greedy in Crowley's opinion). And Phil can tell the same about him. It's partially what lead them to agree not to pry or harass each other with personal traumas.

Crowley, obviously, is very very jealous of Phil. He has everything he wants and more. But Phil isn't jealous of Crowley almost at all. The only thing he envies are his fully working and unharmed wings. Even so, this could no doubt lead to very explosive arguments between the two of them, because Crowley is jealous of things Phil would NOT take kindly to being envied about.

As much of a fledgling Crowley is when it comes to real world experience and life skills, he still has his strengths, some Phil actually lacks to a certain degree. He can navigate certain social situations seamlessly; he's great at reading tone and expressions, he's spectacular at negotiating, and should the situation require it, he's a decent actor. He'll lay the aristocrat act on thick and pull the "friends in high places" card (though friends in high places is pretty literal in his case since he has no one. It's Phil perched somewhere above and ready to drop down to kill a bitch).

Crowley is secretly a sucker for praise and often goes out of his way to try and impress Phil or do something that'll greatly benefit the two of them in an effort to please Phil. Phil has 100% clocked this and just doesn't say anything. It's vaguely amusing to him.

There's a comical ongoing thing between them where Phil refuses to explain Kristin's existence to Crowley bc "it's too much to unpack" but he keeps accidentally slipping and mentioning her name or referring to his ties to Death. And every time Crowley asks him wtf he's on about, or an actual Rare Crowley Question of Genuine Curiosity, Phil has to scramble to cover his own ass.

You could not pay Crowley enough and you could not bribe Phil with any amount of god apples to get them to hug or physically touch each other in any way that isn't irrefutably necessary. It's practically a miracle if they poke each other or something to get the other's attention.

Despite all their reasons for not getting along, good god do they have a fair few things in common aside from being two very lonely avians. Like their ungodly and sometimes debilitating fear of failure. :)

The longer they're together, the more codependent they'll become on each other. It's a very slippery slope for them both because they're so vulnerable and lonely at the moment. That's exactly what started this entire thing, it could very much just keep worsening, especially when they actually bond.

And once they do bond, good god will they be a terrifying duo. The smarts between them both,,, something something the way crows teach each other and pass information on to their future generations.

[tachimichishrine]

ppssps..hey bae 😍😍😍❤️❤️🙈🙈🙈

cute and sexy request!!! IF YOU COULD WRITE A MISTLETOE CONFESSION FOR TACHI x READER THANKS U I LOVE UR WRITING KEEP GOING AND FEED ME ALL THIS TACHI CONTENT AS ALWAYS🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

heyyy babygorl 🤪😳🥵🥵😻🙉🙉 oh my god this is indeed extremely cute and sexy, just imagine...

tachihara around the holidays, a sense of nostalgia for something that never existed as he watches families with shopping bags in their arms. they look happy in the way he'd never felt with his own, and it's got him looking down for most of the season.

tachihara catching himself staring at you for too long, watching you give small gifts to the other members of the black lizard, even speaking with the nameless suits about their plans with their families like you really were a goddamn angel.

tachihara daydreaming about you in the middle of missions, distracting himself with the thought of you to the point where he accidentally bumps into santa cosplayers and has to threaten to beat them within an inch of their lives as soon as they start singing carols merrily at him.

tachihara who is stupid in love, head over heels even before you started asking him about his holiday plans and he begrudgingly admits that he doesn't talk to his family; you pouted sadly and promised that you'd try to make up for it, whatever that was supposed to mean.

tachihara strolling into his office, finding a small box of chocolates wrapped in a red ribbon with a note saying "from santa", even though it was obvious who it was from. it took him a while to stop blushing before he could stash the box in his pocket and pretend like he didn't just get shot by cupid's arrow all over again.

tachihara trying (miserably) to return the favour, having no clue what you like and needing hirotsu's advice. he made the old man swear not to tell anyone about this because if word spread through the black lizard that he was buying gifts for someone, he'd look weak and mushy and he didn't want you to know that this was what you did to him.

tachihara not knowing how to ask you out, painfully terrified that you were just being nice to him because that's who you are and not because you had any interest in him. he thought the mistletoe maneuver was cliché and stupid and soft and perfect for you.

tachihara using his ability to carry the mistletoe around with him, feeling dumb as he waits for you to stumble across him all the while trying to psych himself up to actually kiss you.

tachihara who turns around for one second to yell at an underling, leaving the mistletoe in the air as you, hirotsu and gin stroll in.

tachihara watching in agony as you point out the mistletoe above your heads and kiss hirotsu right in front of his eyes (you said that you would've kissed gin but she had her mask on).

tachihara giving up and heading home after a long day, the stupid thing in his pocket serving as a reminder that he's a coward and can't even do this one simple thing right.

tachihara hearing you call out "wait up!" while he walks home, hands in his pockets and about to throw the world's biggest tantrum at the sight of lovers holding hands and laughing at all the christmas lights put up around the neighborhood.

tachihara slowing down his pace but not stopping as you talk to him, saying things that he barely processes because your smile is so beautiful and you look so excited.

tachihara following you on your little detour, taking him to decorated squares and clinging onto his arm when night fell and it got too cold. he would've suggested buying you a hot chocolate but he didn't want you leaving his arm anytime in the foreseeable future.

tachihara's confidence slightly restored, taking a deep breath and looking around while you babbled about loving the spirit of the season, his eyes locking in on the mistletoe in front of a small shop.

tachihara suggesting to you that go in and explore the shop, then trying (awfully) to smoothly point out the mistletoe on the sign above. he swore that he was a spy, a trained, high-level spy that could infiltrate even the most dangerous of organizations, but you made him nervous and it came out wrong.

tachihara listening to you giggle, pointing out what a coincidence it was that this was the second time today that you found yourself under the mistletoe.

tachihara not believing it when you grabbed him by the front of his jacket and kissed him like it was nothing, not giving him any time to say how he really felt or process the feeling of your lips on his.

tachihara trying to kiss you back but the kiss was short and you were already giggling and ushering him into the shop.

tachihara yelling out "stop! just... wait. just wait," with a lot more desperation than he wanted.

tachihara unable to say anything coherent, describing his appreciation for your gifts and thoughtful words and time you spent with him spontaneously like right now and how gorgeous you looked and how your smile made him feel and just about a thousand other things he never thought he'd say out loud, to your face.

tachihara breathing heavily after his rant, face hot enough to warm up half the city and unable to look you in the eye.

tachihara growing hotter once you grabbed his chin, tilting it so he would look at you, then you said "you know, we're still under the mistletoe... dontcha think we should kiss again?"

tachihara not believing his senses when you did just that, this time pulling him in deeply, hands on his shoulders and body twisting the slightest amount as you kissed him like he'd never imagined before.

tachihara feeling drunk on your lips once you told him that you followed him on his way home not just because you didn't want him to be alone during the holidays, but because you barely saw him today and missed his company, because you missed him.

tachihara getting himself dragged to your home that evening, condemned to plans of baking, house decorating and cuddling whether or not he wanted it. but you both knew that he did, more than anything.

tachihara walking with you like he was in a fever dream, your fingers intertwined while you occasionally kissed his cheek and watched him blush when you got closer to him or asked if he was the one who planted that mistletoe in the port mafia hq this morning.

tachihara making sure he discreetly tossed the mistletoe in his pocket in a garbage on the way there because he denied this morning's "accident".

and most importantly, tachihara getting spoiled the entire holiday season, especially since you made sure to hang dozens of mistletoes across your home and agreed that he would have to comply with each and every one of them, not that he was complaining.

[vespertin-y]

OKAY I FINALLY WATCHED GRAVITY FALLS. TEN YEARS LATE I KNOW. i was expecting to have to power through a bunch of boring kid stuff to get to the actual interesting drama and i was so so wrong i locked tf in and finished it in two days. it's so good what the actual fuck. heres my thoughts on the main characters

mabel: when i was the actual target audience for this show i saw a bit of mabel while flipping through disney XD and i immediately concluded that she was annoying af and i would never watch this show because of her. i would like to repent for this evil evil take by flinging myself belly down onto shattered glass. MABEL MY BABY GIRL...if they ever put her in another Situation or Scenario ill kill someone fr. she's a little too selfish and a little too pushy sure but so genuinely KIND and SWEET and so willing to make a fool of herself to pull her dumb brother out of his head. that unicorn doesn't know jack i hope she gets everything she wants forever

dipper: if i had watched gf as a kid i would have been in very real danger of naming myself after this guy (which doesn't even work bc im not nearly as cool as him!! the woodland creatures would have eaten my ass). it would've been so easy to give him a generic gaining confidence arc but he is never a coward when it really matters and i think that's great. he may not be able to talk to a girl but he can and will beat a gnome to death with a shovel for touching his sister!!! also yeah he is extremely transgender.

stan: OUUUUUGH. STARTS SOBBING. stanley pines the man that you are. i assumed at first that his plot would be about Learning To Love but no he is 100% on board with being the world's best grunkle from minute one. he definitely fucks up sometimes (putting waddles outside comes to mind as does. The Other Thing) but he always tries his very best to fix it. every action he takes just oozes with care for his family. every time i thought he had a motivation that wasn't his family they pulled the rug out from under me and revealed that it was, in fact, just his family again. he would give everything for them. AND HE LITERALLY DOES??? im gonna vomit. he hand stitched fishing hats 😭😭😭

wendy: definitely my least favorite of the main cast im sorry wendyheads...i just feel like there isn't a lot to get into here. every time they imply there's something more going on with her or her family they just snap her right back into The Coolest Girl In The World which might be fun but it's not that interesting.

soos: SOOS MY FRIEND SOOS!!!! i wobbled on him during the middle of the show bc i felt like they were making him Genuinely Dumb instead of just a good babysitter but they pulled his characterization back around by the end i think. he is like me in that he would also die for the mystery twins without hesitation or regret 💖. a lesser show would've been really mean about soos but gf is BASED and SOOSPILLED so he gets what he deserves. he does not have to lose weight or drop his "childish" interests or stop living with his grandma to WIN AT LIFE. awesome girlfriend! dream job! big house! stan using that boat to hunt down his bio dad and kill him, probably!

ford: ill be honest and admit i hated this guy at first but eventually i learned to live laugh love about his massive incredibly fragile ego ruining everything all the time and now i am a big ford enjoyer. what a FREAK oh my god. he believed his journals to be capable of destroying the world and still refused to destroy them because they're His Life's Work????? he had the painfully obvious option to tell bill he didn't know the equation and stall for time and chose instead to say that OBVIOUSLY he knows it he's the SMARTEST MAN ALIVE he's just not TELLING YOU 😤 and then immediately got tortured????? he spent most of his screentime projecting his relationship issues onto an Actual Child?????????? he needs to go to therapy and learn he's not the main character of the universe but he will not be doing that so i can only hope the boat fixes him. if i was stanley i'd've fed him to the shapeshifter.

bill: SIGH. YES OKAY HE'S MY FAVORITE. I KNOW I'M FUCKING PREDICTABLE DON'T @ ME. i spent 90% of his screentime cracking up and the other 10% making Homosexual Detection Eyebrows at my brother! the ideal ratio!!!!! i can't wait to get my hands on the book so i can poor little meowmeow him more efficiently. i knew i was saving that barnes & noble gift card for something important.

[exileisover]

Here’s a fun little thought exercise to all the toxic tumblr users who seek out accounts they disagree with (e.g. #gaylor accounts such as mine) for the sole purpose of harassing the account owner — why do you care so much about what I write on my blog? Why does it bother you so much that someone else has an opinion/belief that is different from yours — so much so that you choose to spend your precious time anonymously antagonizing people with shitty little comments and hateful direct messages?

Are you truly so arrogant as to believe that your personal opinion is the only possible way to think? Or are you just bored with your sad little life so you try to bully people (again, anonymously, like a coward) on the internet?

And are you really going to pretend that you have a leg to stand on when you have your own ridiculous fan theory accounts? Really?

I mean, at least I can admit my account is silly. It’s not something I take seriously. It’s for fun. I don’t really care that much if my #gaylor theories are real or not. I just like to occasionally take short breaks from my extremely demanding and stressful job to piece together the intentionally vague + delightfully cryptic “Easter Eggs” into alternative possibilities vs what the mainstream hivemind believes about this pop culture phenomenon we are all bearing witness to.

That’s it. I like puzzles. I like tswizzle, and I’ve been following her music since her first album waaaaaay back in the day. I was there, it was rare, when we were all teenagers growing up with Taylor as she debuted and grew her music career and I noticed that some of her lyrics and her little booklet clues and her MySpace posts were a little gay sometimes. And then kissgate happened in real time (I followed the whole thing as it went down, alllll those years ago), and I was like “oh yeah that tracks, she’s probably bi” , and when she was singing “you can want who you want — boys and boys and girls and girls”, and I was there following along for the Big Sur trip and so on with all the other events that have occurred over nearly 20 years. It’s interesting to me. It’s not serious, it’s just fun.

But you sad, pathetic and pathologically poisonous internet trolls who apparently live to spread negative energy and try to bring that bad juju onto my happy little blog… I don’t get you people, and I don’t give a damn if you think I’m wrong. I do give a damn if you come onto my page and try to harass me, because wtf. I don’t come and harass you on your dumb pages.

So with that being said, leave me alone and take a hearty “go fuck yourself” on the way out.

Byeeeeee.

Ps - Karma is real, and it’s gonna bite your virulent hater asses for the way you treat people (anonymously or otherwise).