#if you are trying to figure out which of these to listen to

[casyndrome]

I really feel like this is one of those bits of advice that's good but only catered to neurotypicals.

If you're bored and you don't have a phone in front of you to rot your brain, you will end up doing something. Maybe you'll read a book or you will draw or you will start thinking and that will give you a really nice creative idea or will prompt you into Shadow work or whatever you want to call it. Maybe you'll pick up another hobby.

The advice of allowing yourself to be bored is good advice because if you were bored it will push you to do something, but just like with most advice that should be helpful in theory the way that it is presented is usually directed at neurotypicals. The people who need it least.

The solution is not to throw the advice out the window but instead see what it's trying to say and cater it to yourself. Which sucks because it should be catered to everyone as much as possible to begin with, but that's not how people want to operate right now.

I absolutely love how so much advice that is meant to help neurodivergent people is targeted at neurotypical people, but I have had to dig through all the advice and find what works and what doesn't and I've learned that it's not the advice itself that sucks, it's not the message that sucks, it's the way that it's presented and the way that it's made to be this one way idea.

Don't completely discard self-help ideas, cater them to yourself.

You hear journaling is really really good for you but you don't want to write for some reason? Okay, get a voice recorder and make a verbal Journal. Or use voice to text, my friend and nemesis because it can't understand the southern accent for shit, but it is good if you want those written words but your mouth Works faster than your brain.

You hear that meditation is fantastic but you don't want to just lay there and do nothing? Okay there's more forms of meditation. There's walking meditation, there's drawing meditation, you can even meditate while putting on your playlist and staring out your car window.

Do you want to exercise but it's so tedious? Go find something that doesn't feel like an exercise. Try dancing or swimming for fun or picking up a hobby like gardening, something that is active but doesn't feel like the tedious repetitiveness of the gym and a traditional workout.

You hear that reading self-help books is nice but you don't want to just sit down and read or you just don't have the focus to read the words right now? Audiobook. You don't want to just lay there and listen to an audiobook? Okay listen to the audiobook while getting things done around the house that you need done or while doing that exercise that you might need to do.

A lot of self-help advice is seldom bad in theory, a lot of it is just not catered toward the target audience for some fuck all reason.

You deserve to have access to self-help, take the advice and figure out what it's trying to say and cater it to yourself. There is no wrong way to help yourself as long as you are actually seeing positive progress.

"learn to be bored" "being bored is good for you" "be at peace with yourself" NO! 4 SCREENS AT ONCE!!!!!!

[inexplicifics]

AO3 went down for maintenance in the middle of my AWAU reread and I am clamouring for an opportunity to read your writing, any snippets from AWAU or CAW for this poor soul? The witcher books are great, but just not the vibe right now, y’know? Sorry for the silly ask, I do have patience, it just ran away and I’m still searching for it back😬🥲

It's always a bad day when AO3 goes down!

Have a bit from an AWAU fic that may never go anywhere, in which Kiyan of the Cats makes a friend:

Kiyan meets the Bear in the woods north of Kaer Morhen. Kiyan is looking for trouble, because he’s going to jitter out of his skin if he spends one more minute inside Kaer Morhen. He’s up a tree, arguing with a crow about something - he’s not sure what, but the crow keeps cawing back at him when he caws at it, which is hilarious - when he hears someone else approaching.

He and the crow both go quiet, and Kiyan peers down through the branches to see a big blond fellow in a deep red tunic instead of armor padding near-silently between the trees, head tilted in the way all Witchers do when they’re listening closely for something.

Kiyan grins. Stalking a fellow Witcher ought to be entertaining enough to keep him occupied for a while. He ghosts along the branches, shadowing the other Witcher from above. He can’t tell what the other Witcher is trying to find. The big fellow definitely isn’t wandering aimlessly - he’ll stop and listen hard occasionally, then alter his course a little, and he sniffs the air sometimes, too. But Kiyan knows there aren’t any big predators around here - everything has cleared out due to the presence of so many Witchers - and he can’t hear or smell any deer close by, either.

Finally the other Witcher slows, looks straight up at Kiyan, and whistles, Come here.

Kiyan grins and drops down out of his tree. “Hah, you got me! How long have you known I was following you? What are you tracking? Can I help?”

The other Witcher - a Bear by the medallion, burly as his School tends to be, grins at Kiyan and signs, Quiet. Come.

Kiyan ostentatiously claps a hand over his mouth and slinks in the Bear’s wake as they round a small copse of trees. The Bear tilts his head, listening, then smiles and points up. Kiyan follows the gesture to see a little stream of bees going in and out of a hole in the tree about thirty feet up.

“Oooh,” Kiyan whispers. “Honey?”

The Bear waggles a hand as if to say, Sort of, and toes his boots off. Kiyan watches in delight as the Bear goes up the tree with shocking agility for such a big man; after a moment Kiyan picks a nearby tree and scrambles to keep pace, ending up perched on a branch near enough to see what the Bear is doing.

Once the Bear gets close enough to the bees’ nest, he signs Axii. As far as Kiyan can tell, nothing changes - but the bees don’t seem to notice the Bear’s presence the way they would an actual bear, or anything else approaching their hive. The Bear gets right up next to it and peers in, and the bees just detour around him like he’s a rock or a branch.

Kiyan’s never seen someone Axii a beehive before. It’s a lot smarter than just bulling through the stings!

The Bear reaches into the hive and draws his hand out not dripping with honey, but cupped around something small. He tucks the small thing - a single bee? - into a little wooden box with many holes in its sides, and then climbs nimbly back down the tree with the box cradled in one hand.

The bees follow him in a stream; he ignores them as he puts his boots back on and heads towards the keep.

“How the hell,” Kiyan asks delightedly, scrambling down his own tree and falling into step beside the Bear. “How did you do that? Is that still Axii?”

The Bear holds up the little box; there’s a bee inside it, seemingly unworried about having been captured. “Queen,” he says, the first word Kiyan’s heard him speak.

“Queen? Oh! A queen bee! I thought that was a figure of speech -” Kiyan leans closer to examine the caged bee, which is slightly larger than most bees usually are. “Hello, little queen, you’re in charge of a whole hive, huh? And all your warriors are following you, just like we follow Geralt around, with their little swords ready to defend you. You’re taking her to a new hive, yeah?” he asks, bouncing back up and grinning at the Bear.

The Bear nods.

“And then we get more honey,” Kiyan enthuses. “That’s awesome!”

The Bear nods again.

Kiyan cocks his head, regarding the much larger Witcher thoughtfully. “You don’t talk much, do you.”

The Bear shakes his head.

Kiyan hesitates. “D’you…want me to leave you be?” The Bear doesn’t smell irritated, but if he likes the quiet…

The Bear shakes his head again.

Kiyan lights up, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet. “Great! Thanks! Ooh, how many more beehives do you think there are in the forest? Could we collect them all? Or would that be too many bees - that might be too many bees - oh, does that Axii trick work on wasps? We could get the Cranes to make wasp-nest bombs! I betcha selkiemores wouldn’t like getting mouthfuls of wasps. A wasp stung me on my nose once! It got all big and red and it hurt like fucking hell. I wonder if a selkiemore would just puff up like a bagpipe -”

[afterheese]

The Plot Twist - Lee Heeseung x F!Reader x Nishimura Riki

They stole my header? Perfect. I needed a reason to outdo myself anyway.

You could already picture him with his dark, messy hair buried between your legs, that wicked mouth pulling you straight to heaven. A soft moan slipped out as you arched into the touch, eyelids fluttering open, ready to see him. But blonde? Heeseung wasn’t blonde.

content warnings - dark!Heeseung plus dark!Niki, noncon turned dubcon, forced oral, mean dom heeseung, needy niki, threesome, hair pulling, degradation, creampie, breeding kink, lots of dirty talk.

word count - 3.4k

Heeseung was the picture-perfect boyfriend. Dependable, sweet, the kind of guy who remembered your coffee order and actually asked about your day and he listened. You could count on him for anything. Need a ride at 2 a.m.? He was there. Forgot your umbrella? He’d show up with two, just in case. Honestly, you had zero complaints. Well…almost zero.

There was just one thing you couldn’t stand. A single, stubborn splinter in your otherwise pristine boyfriend fantasy and that was his friends. God, his friends.

And at the center of that circus was Ni-ki. That little shit. The human embodiment of a group chat you wish you could mute. He had this uncanny talent for showing up uninvited, inserting himself into every conversation like he was the main character, and delivering sarcasm like it was his full-time job.

He wasn’t just annoying. He was the kind of annoying that made you want to pray for patience and punch a pillow all simultaneously.

No matter how perfect Heeseung was, every time Ni-ki opened his mouth, you found yourself questioning your life choices... and your boyfriend’s taste in people.

At first, Ni-ki was kind of shy around you…which, honestly, you chalked up to nerves. You were, after all, the first real girlfriend to be introduced to the group. The others? Mostly flings, a few questionable hook-ups, and one girl whose name no one could quite remember. But you? You were different. Official. And maybe that threw him off?

You figured the age thing might help. You were closer to Ni-ki than the others in that regard, so you tried. Really tried. You made the effort, you brought up games he liked, asked about movies, even tried laughing at one of his half-hearted anime impressions. But he made it weird. Like weird-weird.

Backhanded compliments that felt less like icebreakers and more like ice picks. You assumed he was just socially awkward, maybe trying to be funny in that clumsy, teenage-boy way. But after a while, the pattern became clear: he only acted that way with you.

And that’s when it hit you. Ni-ki didn’t like you.

Heeseung, bless his rose-colored-glasses heart, kept reassuring you. “That’s just how Ni-ki is,” he’d say, like that explained the passive-aggressive snipes or the exaggerated sighs every time you joined in a conversation. Still, you gave it your best. You showed up. You engaged. You offered thoughtful commentary on his favorite games only to be met with a shrug and a “that’s not really your genre, is it?”

So, eventually… you stopped trying.

You kept your opinions to yourself. Sat a little quieter when he was around. Smiled politely but stopped reaching out. And funny enough? it got worse.

The backhanded compliments stopped, which should’ve been a win. But instead of mellowing out, Ni-ki leveled up. He went full-blown sarcasm bitch on you.

Now, if you asked something as innocent as, “Hey, can we go see that new movie this weekend?” he’d hit you with a deadpan: “Can you?” Like he was your parole officer and you’d just violated a condition of your release. It drove you absolutely mad.

You started fantasizing about flipping a table. Or smacking him with the remote. Or both. You could practically hear your inner voice narrating, “And that’s when she snapped, Judge.”

But you didn’t.

Because no matter how much Ni-ki grated on your nerves with that sandpaper wrapped in smugness shit, he was Heeseung’s best friend. And you didn’t want to be that girlfriend. The one who came in and started issuing ultimatums. Me or you friends? yeah you didn’t want to be one of those. So, you left it alone.

Grinned. Bared it. Tried to summon your inner zen. And when that didn’t work? You thought happy thoughts. Really happy thoughts. Like Ni-ki accidentally walking into oncoming traffic. Just... hypothetically, of course. 

Which brings us to tonight, it was supposed to be movie night. Just you, your boyfriend, and the latest horror flick that promised more actual scares than jumpscares. You had your oversized hoodie on, a throw blanket ready to swaddle yourself like a human burrito, and a bowl of popcorn nestled perfectly in your lap. It was supposed to be perfect. Just the two of you.

So when there was a knock on the door, you prayed to every god in the universe that it was the pizza. But the gods? Yeah, kindness isn’t really their thing. So when you saw the smile. That smile. That specific smile Heeseung threw over his shoulder as he headed for the door. The one that said he already knew who it was. The one that made your stomach sink faster than a doomed horror movie protagonist walking into a dark basement.

Your hopes didn’t just die. They spontaneously combusted. Because you just knew. This wasn’t a pizza delivery. This was a Ni-ki situation. And suddenly, the horror movie wasn’t the scariest thing on the agenda.

He walked in smiling like he hadn’t just crashed your night. Like the evening hadn’t been reserved for you, your boyfriend, and a horror movie. Ni-ki strolled through the door with all the confidence of someone who’d been invited which, apparently, he had. He shot you a smirk. Not his usual smirk, either. This one was… new. Sharper and that threw you off more than it should have. Then, the real plot twist: he greeted you.

“Hey,” he said, casual as anything. You just stared at him. He’d never greeted you before. Not unless you counted eye rolls and monosyllabic grunts. Still slightly stunned, you murmured, “Hi,” back.

Heeseung came up behind you, kissed your cheek in that soft, boyfriend-y way that always made your pulse do a double take, and mumbled, “He didn’t have plans and felt kinda lonely, so I invited him last minute. Hope you don’t mind.”

You minded. Oh, you definitely minded.

But you played it cool because that’s who you were: composed, understanding, non-possessive girlfriend of the year. (You’d like your award mailed, thanks.) Ni-ki made himself right at home on the couch, plopping down beside you like he paid rent. You gave him the most olympic-level side-eye you could manage without moving your head.

Then, when Heeseung sat down on your other side, you snuggled in close. Partly for warmth. Mostly for territorial reasons. Heeseung smiled at you, soft and dimpled and devastating. Damn it. That smile made your knees weak even when you were sitting.

The movie started playing. Ni-ki reached for popcorn like he hadn’t just invaded your peace. And you? You prayed the horror on screen would be more tolerable than the one sitting beside you. 

Watching the movie with Ni-ki turned out to be… surprisingly bearable.

He didn’t say much (that was a miracle of miracles) unless the main character made one of those painfully dumb horror-movie choices. You know, the kind where someone hears a noise in the basement and decides to investigate alone with a flickering flashlight and zero survival instinct. And, to be fair, his commentary was kind of funny. Begrudgingly.

For a while, it was almost... nice. But then the masked killer was revealed, and just like that, the tension flatlined. No more mystery. No more suspense. Just a long, slow unraveling of plot and blood.

You got bored. Your eyelids started staging a protest. And before you knew it, your head was on Heeseung’s shoulder, your body tucked into his side, wrapped in his warmth like the safest little burrito on earth.

He didn’t move. Didn’t shift. Just let you stay curled against him, arm around you like he was guarding your dreams. And in that moment, Ni-ki and his sarcasm, the movie, the whole weird energy of the night… it all faded. Because Heeseung made you feel safe. Which, frankly, was better than any plot twist the movie could’ve offered.

You were floating in a dreamless haze when you felt it your stomach tightening, a slow, delicious heat coiling low. Something was happening to you, but your mind was too foggy to figure out why. Then, the sensation of hands, warm and knowing, sliding up your thighs. Oh. Your breath hitched. Heeseung.

You could already picture him..his dark, fluffy hair between your legs, that sinful mouth of his dragging you to heaven. A soft moan escaped you as you arched into the touch, your eyelids fluttering open, expecting to see him.

But—blonde hair? Heeseung wasn’t blonde.

Your brain short-circuited. You tried to sit up. Key word: tried because the second you moved, strong arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you flush against a firm chest. A familiar, honey-sweet voice whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Just relax, baby. Let Niki make that pretty pussy come.”

Your entire body burned. “H-Heeseung—what the hell—” But your protest melted into a breathless moan as Niki’s tongue dragged over you, slow and filthy, unraveling you inch by inch.

Heeseung chuckled against your neck, his grip possessive. “Shh, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for us.” His lips brushed your pulse point, his voice dropping to that sinful, sweet-dirty rasp that always made you weak. “Look at you, taking Niki so well… Bet you didn’t even know you could feel so good, huh?”

You whimpered, fingers twisting in the couch. Niki groaned against you, his hands digging into your hips like he was starving. “Fuck—so perfect. Can’t get enough.”

"Niki, stop—please."

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he kisses your thigh again, his lips warm and insistent. "Baby," he murmurs, his voice deep, rough with want. "The way your body’s reacting… I can’t help myself. I wanna see you fall apart." His dark eyes drag down your body, slow, possessive, and all you can manage is a weak, "Huh?" breathless, already unraveling.

When you realize you can’t get through to him, you turn your head, seeking Heeseung. "Heeseung—what the fuck are you doing? Stop him—" Your words break between moans, shaky and desperate.

But Heeseung just smiles, sweet and sinful. "I’ve wanted to watch him fuck you for so long," he admits, his voice honey-thick, fingers brushing your cheek. "And this? God, it’s more than I ever dreamed."

You trembled, caught between the velvet pull of his voice and the relentless drag of Niki’s mouth between your thighs. Your protests had long since dissolved into breathless moans, your body betraying you completely.

Heeseung’s hand slid up to your throat. “You feel that?” he whispered into your ear. “How your body’s trembling?  That’s need. Craving. You want this. You’re mine, and I’m giving you to him. Doesn’t that turn you on?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, but your hips said otherwise rocking up, chasing every sinful flick of Niki’s tongue. You could feel him smile against you, cocky and starving.

“Such a fucking dream,” Niki groaned, his voice muffled against your skin. “Tastes like sin… like she’s meant to be ruined.” His tongue curled again, and you cried out, your fingers clawing at the cushions, the pleasure too much.

“Heeseung,” you gasped, trying to hold on to something—anything. “Please, I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he crooned, one hand cupping your cheek, the other trailing down to your chest, brushing over your nipples with maddening care. “You’ll come when I say, just like always. You know that, right?”

You nodded helplessly, already falling apart.

“Good girl,” he purred, kissing the shell of your ear. “Now stay still. Let Niki taste every fucking drop. I want to see you lose yourself, right here in his mouth with my hands on your throat so you remember who owns you.”

The words hit you harder than any touch, unraveling you completely. Your body writhed between them, Niki’s grip bruising, Heeseung’s voice the only anchor as your climax built.

Your glossy eyes stare up at him, pleading, but he just leans in, pressing a soft gentle kiss to your lips but underneath it, that unspoken truth: You don’t have a choice in this. He moved his mouth to your ear, his words a velvet caress. "You look so pretty like this, baby. You have no idea how good you are for us, do you?"

"Why don’t we put that mouth to use?" Heeseung murmured, sweet as honey, before his grip turned cruel. He stood abruptly, sending you tumbling back onto the couch, dragging you to the edge until your head hung over the armrest. Your pulse throbbed in your throat.

Niki groaned when you were pulled away from him, but he didn’t stay gone long his mouth found your pussy again like it was the last thing he’d ever taste. "Fuck, you’re so wet," he muttered against you, needy, desperate, his tongue working in filthy, practiced circles.

Heeseung loomed above you, upside down from your vantage point, all sharp angles and dark eyes. Even like this, even when you wished things were different your body betrayed you. He looked good, and the way he gripped your jaw made your breath hitch. "Open," he said, sweetly at first, almost coaxing. Then, as soon as you obeyed, his voice dropped to something rougher. "That’s it. Take it."

He slid into your mouth with a shuddering groan, his fingers tightening in your hair. The stretch of him on your tongue, the way Niki was devouring you between your thighs it was all too much. You came with a muffled cry, shaking, and Heeseung let out a dark laugh.

Your glossy eyes stared up at Heeseung, silently begging but he only smiled, tender and cruel, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. It should have felt kind. But it didn’t. It felt like a promise.

A promise that you had no say in what came next.

"You look so pretty like this, baby," he whispered into your ear, his voice like silk over steel. "You have no idea how good you are for us, do you?"

Your breath stuttered in your chest.

"Why don’t we put that mouth to use?" Heeseung murmured, all honeyed affection, but his grip turned brutal in the next instant. He stood and yanked you down with him, letting your body collapse back against the couch. Before you could catch your breath, he dragged you by the hips until your head hung over the armrest, disoriented, dizzy, pulse hammering in your throat.

Niki groaned in protest when you were pulled from his mouth, but he didn’t stay away for long. His hands returned to your thighs, spreading them open again like a gift he wasn’t done unwrapping. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he muttered, reverent and ravenous, as if he hadn’t just had you moments ago. “You’re making a mess, baby.”

Above you, Heeseung loomed, shadowed in golden light. From your upside-down vantage, he looked even more dangerous those sharp cheekbones, that dark stare, those lips quirked in something cruel and so pleased. Even now, even when you knew you should resist, your body begged for more. And Heeseung knew it.

“Open,” he said, voice warm, coaxing. You did because obedience had become instinct. But the second your mouth parted, his voice dropped into something darker. “That’s it baby take it.”

He slid past your lips with a hissed curse, thick and hot on your tongue, and your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers tangled in your hair, anchoring you. He didn't thrust. Not at first. He just held you there as you gagged on him.

Because Heeseung liked to watch you struggle. He liked to see the tears slip from the corners of your eyes as he pushed deeper, your throat fluttering helplessly around him. “Good fucking girl,” he groaned, hips rocking slow and deep. “Fuck, you were made for this.” And then Niki’s tongue curled just right, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still and the orgasm slammed into you like a train.

Your scream was muffled around Heeseung’s cock, your entire body tensing, then trembling as wave after wave of pleasure shattered through you.

Heeseung laughed low and dark, pulling back just enough to let you breathe, his thumb stroking over your lips. “Look at that—coming with your mouth full. God, you’re perfect.”

Niki didn’t stop. Heeseung didn’t stop. You couldn’t think, you could only feel.

"God, I love fucking this mouth," he growled, thrusting deeper, making you gag. His sweetness was gone now, replaced by something meaner, hungrier. "Look at you—can’t even breathe, can you? But you’ll take it. You always do."

You felt Niki shift beneath you, his hands gripping your hips, pressing closer. "You can fuck her," Heeseung panted, never slowing the brutal pace of his hips, "but you don’t get to come inside her. That’s for me. Understand?"

Niki whined against your skin as he slipped inside you. 

Heeseung’s fingers twisted tighter in your hair, forcing your throat to arch, your mouth to stretch wider around him. The salt-bitter taste of him flooded your senses, his hips snapping forward with a rhythm that left no room for gentleness. Your eyes watered, lashes sticking together, but he didn’t let up just watched, dark satisfaction curling his lips as your body struggled to take him.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice rough as gravel. "Look at you—can’t even fucking think, can you?"

You couldn’t. Not with Niki fucking you, his hands digging into your hips as he thrust up into you, his mouth still wet from where he’d been licking you open. Every drag of him inside you was electric, too much and not enough, your nerves alight with the kind of pleasure that bordered on pain.

Heeseung’s thumb pressed against your chin, forcing your jaw wider. "Deeper," he ordered, and when you choked, he only groaned, his free hand sliding down to grip your throat, feeling the way he stretched you. "Fuck, you’re perfect like this."

Niki’s breath hitched against your stomach, his fingers bruising as he held you in place. "She’s close," he panted, voice wrecked. "I can feel it—fuck, she’s squeezing me so tight—"

"I know," Heeseung said, his own voice strained. "But she doesn’t come until I say." His grip on your hair yanked your head back, forcing your gaze up to his. "You hear me? You hold it. You take what I give you."

You whimpered around him, your body trembling on the edge, every muscle coiled tight. Niki’s thrusts turned erratic, his control slipping, but Heeseung’s free hand shot down, fingers digging into Niki’s shoulder. "I said," Heeseung growled, "you don’t come inside her."

Niki let out a broken noise but obeyed, pulling out at the last second, spilling against your thigh with a shudder. Heeseung’s laugh was low, pleased. Heeseung pulls out of your mouth, and you gasp, struggling to catch your breath but the air rushes right back out when his hands clamp down on your hips, fingers biting into your skin. Your legs dangle uselessly before hooking around his waist, dragging him closer.

"That’s it," he murmurs, sweet as honey, brushing your hair back. Then, just as your lips part to sigh, his voice drops, dark and rough "Hold on tight, baby. Gonna ruin you." He slams into you, filling the empty space Niki left behind, and your vision whites out. His rhythm is punishing, hips driving into you like he’s chasing something, like he’s angry. 

"You like that?" Heeseung’s voice is a taunt now, fingers digging bruises into your thighs. "Like being fucked like this? Like a cheap little thing?" You whimper, nodding, but he snarls, "Say it."

"Y-yes—" "Yes, what?" He swats your hip, sharp enough to sting. "Yes, I like it—" "She loves it," Niki cuts in from behind you, voice dripping with something filthy. You try to turn, but Heeseung shoves you back down onto the couch. It creaks beneath you, the fabric rough against your back., his grip possessive.

"Eyes on me," he orders. "You don’t need him. You need this." His thrusts turn erratic, brutal. "Gonna come inside you, mark you up so good—you want that?" You’re babbling now, nails scraping his shoulders. "Please, Heeseung, please—" "Fuck," he groans, and then he’s spilling into you, hot and claiming, his breath ragged against your neck.

Besides you, Niki lets out a low, needy laugh. "Guess I’m cleaning up his mess again." Heeseung’s lips curl against your skin sweet once more, almost tender. "Should I let the rest of the boys use you," he coos. "Fuck I think I’m gonna call them."

[bahngarang]

kitten heels and cherry kisses

pairing: bf!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 732

cw: slight bleeding

masterlist ♡ based on this ask | ty for my first request ! 🩷

a/n: thx 4 being patient ik it's been a while 💀

it had been a weeks – months, even – since seungmin and yn had had a proper date. yapping to each other over reheated leftovers was fine and all, sometimes even preferred, but... it got to a point where yn wanted something scheduled. where she could dress up a little.

which was how they ended up here. walking back from the restaurant a few blocks away from their apartment complex, as yn attempted to ignore the pain of her blisters rubbing up against her shoes every time she took a step.

it was her own fault, really. she really should have known to break them in before she had worn them out for hours on a date. but, yn had reasoned to herself, they were only kitten heels, and they just went so well with that dress she wanted to wear... she'd thought it would be worth it. 

that was until she was wincing at every pace, trying to work out how much further away her apartment was, how long before she could rip those stupid shoes off. her heels hurt, her ankles hurt, and all yn wanted to do was get home, sink into the couch and put her feet up.

seungmin noticed, of course. he always did.

"are you okay?" he asked softly, squeezing yn's hand in his. it wasn't really a question. he knew something was wrong.

there was no point in denying it. "my feet are killing me," yn complained quietly. the feeling of the slingback rubbing against her heel was uncomfortably grating. 

"i told you not to wear them," seungmin murmured pointedly, rolling his eyes.

yn scoffed, rolling her eyes right back at him exaggeratedly. so maybe she should have listened to his warning this time and chosen the comfortable shoes. she didn't have to admit it.

seungmin's eyes flicked down to her feet, and he pursed his lips, stopping yn in her stride. "you're bleeding."

"oh."

"stubborn ass," he murmured in exasperation, kissing the back of his teeth. there was a quiet pause, only broken by a slight breeze picking up around the two of them, brushing the strands of seungmin's hair off his forehead. "i'll carry you home."

a soft giggle erupted from yn's throat, echoing in the empty street. "you? carry me? seung, i love you, but... you're a little..." she gestured vaguely at his figure. "twiggy."

"i work out... sometimes."

"truly inspiring. i'm still not sure i trust you to hold me up."

"just let me try, idiot. i'm not letting you walk back when your feet are injured."

"never knew you were such a bleeding heart, babe," yn teased, gently poking his side.

"shut up." seungmin kneeled down, undoing the straps of her heels and helped her out of the uncomfortable shoes, her bare feet hitting the pavement. glancing between them and her feet, he narrowed his eyes, turning one in his hand to read the size. "these are too small for you."

"i ordered the right size!" yn protested.

"well, they clearly don't fit." he stood, the pair slung over one hand. "now, are you going to let me help you?"

"... i suppose..."

reluctantly, she allowed him to pick her up, and, surprisingly, he held her weight relatively easily, one arm supporting her back, and the other hooked under her knees in a princess carry. despite being built like a string bean, it seemed that he did have some strength hiding in his lanky arms. who knew?

"told you I could," seungmin murmured as he carried yn back home. "maybe you should believe in me more."

"oh, yeah, because I never support you in anything you do," yn countered sarcastically, wrapping her arms around his neck for more stability.

"shut up," he repeated playfully, silencing any further protests with a soft peck on yn's lips. they were soft, and tasted like the dessert he'd been eating only half an hour before – that, and cherries.

"you stole my lip balm," yn grumbled, although, there wasn't any heat behind the accusation. it wasn't like she really minded.

"mhm," seungmin hummed in response, pressing another kiss to her nose as a cheeky smile crossed his face.

"you're lucky you're cute."

a few weeks later, yn found a pair of heels on the kitchen table, exactly the same as the ones that had hurt her feet the other night – only, they were the right size this time.

taglist: open

permanent taglist: @bugsung @iknow-youknow-hyunho @justwonder113 @diekleinesuesse @velvetmoonlght

[ms-demeanor]

A) I have a wide variety of music that I like, everything from punk to metal to hip hop to jazz to country to classical. Lyrically, I tend to like quite a bit of older country, 90s alternative, folk music, and metal. I frequently like songs that are cogent - as in, you can tell, generally, what the song is about on a conceptual level - but not necessarily narrative. Bad lyrics can also ruin pop/rock/soul songs that I otherwise like - the best example that comes immediately to mind is Everclear (who I recognize are not a particularly GOOD band but whose music I enjoy) and the song "I will buy you a new life," which includes the line "I will buy you a new life, perfect shiny and new" and the repetition of new there has made me hate that song since I was about twelve years old. When *writing* songs I can also cringe myself out of liking what I've written, usually when I try to be too literal or pointed or giving a direct, explicit message. (I was the vocalist and primary lyricist for a punk band)

B) I have seen so many musicals. My dad and sister *love* musicals. I've seen productions of South Pacific, Fiddler on the Roof, The Producers, The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, Phantom of the Opera, Cats, Annie Get your Gun, Tommy, Mary Poppins, We Will Rock You, and probably others that I'm forgetting. I was *in* a high school production of Little Shop (I tried out for the Mushnik role and ended up in the chorus while also doing tech stuff). And that's not touching on the movie musicals. I've seen dozens and dozens of movie musicals including Disney renaissance movies but also Guys and Dolls, Singing in the Rain, Oklahoma, Jesus Christ Superstar, The Sound of Music, and a whole bunch of things most people have never heard of because they were last released on laserdisc (my dad had two shelves of musicals on laserdisc). My wonderful bandmate wrote a musical about freakshows for the freakshow they were a part of and I went to go see that to support them.

C) I think the thing that bothers me about musical theater lyricism is the use of lyrics as dialog/exposition, but genuinely part of it is the performance norms. Theater singers are belters, generally with great projection, clean tones, and occasionally impressive ranges. The types of vocals I like to listen to are often more abrasive or aggressive than you'd find in musical theater. (Genuinely, it is SO WEIRD listening to clean vocals in jukebox musicals on songs that were originally harsh/distorted) But also musical theater is much more about the Theater than about the Music - it's a showcase for actors, not musicians. You rarely get a bitchin' guitar solo in a musical. (You also rarely get an interesting singer in a musical - you're going to hear people who are very talented and may be very creative but they're probably not going to be very experimental in terms of technique, which is kind of boring from my perspective but perfectly rational for the artform) And there's not a ton of room for getting really creative with language in a musical when you MUST clearly communicate what a song is about because the song isn't just a song, it's plot-relevant. (This is also why Jukebox musicals are so annoying to me - even if the album they're drawing from was a concept album, it probably wasn't written as a literal story so the language is going to be too figurative to neatly fit into a plot and the results of trying to cram an album into a musical feels unfinished and unintentional - because it WASN'T intentional when the music was written.)

I enjoy theater (plays, opera, and ballet are all things I like a LOT), I enjoy music, but I just basically don't enjoy musical theater. There are musicals I would go to see if on offer (Fiddler on the Roof, Chicago, Cabaret, The Producers) but wouldn't seek out, and Little Shop is something that I like enough to occasionally go looking for, but if I was presented with an opportunity to see a musical for free I would probably pass.

And if you present me the opportunity to see a musical based on a movie, that's a hard pass (which I know is ironic considering that my favorite musical is based on a movie!). Mean Girls, Legally Blonde, Moulin Rouge, Footloose, Beetlejuice - I don't want those. No thank you. Have a good time. That looks terrible, I would hate that. I'm glad there are people who like that kind of thing and that they seem to be having a nice time but wow that would be an awful evening for me.

So this is not an unexamined position, this is borne out of years of getting dragged to "come see a show" with people who were going to be very happy to see the show and very annoyed if I did media criticism on it.

I don't want to shit on anybody's enjoyment of musical theater but (with very very few exceptions), man do I fucking hate musical theater.

I've been checking out some of the song recs people had for deeper women's voices and.

The lyrics to many of these songs are simply extremely poorly written.

[sturnixblogger]

make him jealous || chris sturniolo ||

chosen by a poll

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; your at a party with your childhood bestfriend, Chris. And you notice your ex is there. Yall dated for 3 years so it took a while to get over him. Even though he cheated. You notice he is staring, and you ask chris to help you make him jealous.

—

Warning: smut, fingering, F receiving

You arrive at a party you got invited to. You didn’t want to go alone so you dragged Chris along with you, which worked in your favor. You and Chris are standing at the counter holding drinks. You glance over as you see a door open. It’s your ex. The one who you were throwing up, crying, starving yourself, and absolutely ruining yourself over. He immediately sees you and begins to walk over. Chris notices him also. You quickly leave the spot you were standing at, trying to get as far as possible from him. Chris looks at him sharp and quick before trailing behind you.

“Hey Y/N, don’t worry about him. It’s just us, okay?” Chris says as he takes your hand into his own.

You smile softly, shaking your head. Every so often you glance over and see him. Your ex. Getting closer with eyes always on you. Chris obviously notices and tries to distract you.

“Do you just want to go to my place?” Chris asks, speaking over the loud music in the back. His voice is completely muffled, but you can hear him.

“No I can’t, it’s my friend’s birthday. I don’t want to do that to her,” you say, nearly screaming, trying to make your voice noticeable.

Chris nods and takes a sip of his drink as he bats an eye over at your ex. You still feel uncomfortable and you’re trying to figure out a way to make him stop looking at you. You look up at Chris.

“Chris,” you say, leaning into him so he can hear you.

Chris looks at you, giving you a look to let you know he is listening.

“Can you help me make him uh, jealous?” you say.

Chris looks at you, confused on what you mean by that. You smack your lips, looking around.

“Can we, can we kiss?” you say, screaming and looking down afterwards.

Chris smirks and lifts your chin up. He looks at you, tilting his head before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. The kiss sends an aching feeling right to your heat. A shiver down your spine. He is kissing you slow. You feel his tongue slide into your mouth. Your eyes widen while not expecting that. You let out a moan into his mouth.

Chris pulls away, lips red and swollen.

“Like that?” Chris says, smirking, looking down at you.

You’re still in shock and just nod. You look over and see your ex jaw dropped, but slowly walking away. It worked.

After the party, you and Chris are walking to the car before Chris says your name.

“Y/N,” Chris says in a soft chilling tone.

“Mhm?” you say, turning your head towards him with a gentle smile.

Before you know it his lips are smashed to yours. A deep, messy, wet kiss that made a shiver come down your spine. He pulls away breathlessly and looks into your big brown eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. He grabs your hand and takes you to the car on his side, pulling you into his lap. He kisses you again, hungry and needy. His tongue slips between your lips, exploring yours. You gasp at the sudden act but you start moving your tongue against his.

Was this wrong? This was your best friend for years. Would this ruin the friendship?

You feel his hand slide up your thigh going underneath your dress. He traces slow soft shapes on your thighs, making the need of touch in your cunt become worse.

You pull away looking into his blue eyes, breathing heavy.

“Chris please,” you say, starting to slowly grind, trying to ease the neediness.

Chris grabs your hips, stopping you from moving anymore.

“What ma, what do you want?” Chris says teasingly. He knows.

“Touch me please Chris,” you say, embarrassed but needing the urge of touch.

That’s all Chris needed. He grabs the rim of your underwear and yanks it off you. His fingers turn to your cunt and run up your folds.

“Damn ma, your pussy is so wet. All this for me?” Chris says, looking into your eyes, watching you twitch from the sudden contact.

You nod, starting to grind but he stops you once more. His fingers find your clit and start to rub slow soft circles.

“Mmmfh, ho, holy fuck,” you moan, dropping your head back.

He smirks at your reaction and shoves two fingers into your pussy. You gasp, eyes rolling back, moaning. He thrusts his fingers in fast while his thumb rubs your clit, overstimulating you.

You feel a hot knot coil in your lower tummy. You’re clenching around his fingers.

“This pretty little pussy ma, you wanna cum hm?” Chris says, whispering into your ear.

You nod at the question, biting your lip.

“Beg for it angel, beg for me,” Chris says, chuckling with a nasty grin across his lips.

“Plea, fuuck, please Chris let me cum,” you say, begging but you’re cut off by your loud helpless moans.

“Come on angel, you can do better than that hm?” Chris says as his fingers are still thrusting fast, still rubbing your clit.

“F-fuuuck Chris please let me cum on your fingers,” you say, moaning between almost every word, begging for a release.

“That’s more like it baby. Go ahead and cum on my fingers for me,” Chris says, giving you the pass to cum, still thrusting his fingers.

And at that, the knot in your lower tummy snaps. Cum leaks from your cunt onto his fingers. Chris thrusts slow, his thumb on your clit, slowing down more, still going but softer from your high.

Your head drops to his shoulder. He brings his fingers out of your cunt to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.

“Think that made him jealous?” Chris says, pointing outside the window.

Your ex is just standing there, staring into the car.

💌a/n: a draft i started lil ago..but what yall thinkkk??

taglist: @kitty-meow-meow44 @courta13 @whore4chris @gayguycolorado @strxn-2 @sturniolo-szn2 @mattstromboli

—

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

[n0rmal-cat]

Kpop demon hunters x reader- selling your soul for job experience Part 2

[i wrote more but a friend said to cut it off here and save the rest for part 3 which ill post tomorrow]

part 1

They made a deal for their soul, they made a deal for their soul-

How did this mess even happen? And why on earth did they sell their souls in exchange for babysitting five idiots?! 

Apparently, they were meant to be the manager, but considering they could barely manage their own life, the thought of doing it for this bunch seems unlikely.

“So what exactly do you need me to do?” reader stood in front of the biggest couch they had ever seen, it was definitely bigger than their old apartment that's for sure. "You guys need like some water or snacks?"

"Water," the mint one raised his hand. He held a water bottle in his hand, but reader just guessed he was a really thirsty guy.

“Listen, whatever your name is,” the one with black hair said, casually nudging them with a hand on their back. “You don’t have to do anything-why don't you sit back and enjoy the ride?” a playful smile on his face.

“But I thought I was supposed to-“

“Don’t worry about Jinu,” the pink-haired one waved dismissively. “He’s just a little flustered after Gwi-ma asked you to be our manager. Why don’t you come sit by us? We’ll keep you company,” he beckoned, patting the seat beside him with a warm smile.

“Weren't you the one who said you wanted to eat my soul while I slept?” They pointed a finger at him, confused knitting their brow.

He chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Guilty~”

Jinu let out a sigh. He grabbed reader 's chin with his claws, "Please, dear, won't you let me take the reins? I’ll buy you some food, huh, that’s what everyone wants, hm, a cute boy buying you food.”

Reader looks into his face strangely, “ya what?” 

He tried to smirk again, seemingly trying to look flirtatious but failing miserably.

“Ahg, never mind, we need to figure out our stage names,” Jinu said, pulling his Playboy mask off. “Ah, Mystery, Abs, Romance, and Baby!” he said to each of them respectively.

Mystery shrugged in nonchalance, Abs wore a puzzled expression, Romance beamed with enthusiasm, and Baby simply sipped on water, unimpressed by the unfolding drama.

“Stage name? Wait, what exactly are you guys doing? What am I the manager of” reader asked.

‘Ab’s’ leaped to his feet. “Oh! We’re a ‘demon idol group’ Jinu’s plan is brilliant! Just listen, we’ll become the biggest group out there, steal all the hunters fans, and then throw an epic feast!”

And of course now they knew that 'feast' meant eating half the population's souls, I mean, hey, at least that didn't include them since they didn't really have a soul anymore...

“The hunters? There are demon hunters, are they like YouTuber ghost hunters?”  This whole thing was just confusing reader even more than it already was.

“Please stop,” he rubbed his forehead. “Look, are we all ok with our names?” he looked around the room, annoyed.

Mystery shrugged, “It's fine…”

“Well, I, for one, absolutely love my name! It perfectly encapsulates everything I am,” Romance beamed, a playful smile lighting up his features. “Yeah, thanks for naming me ‘Baby.’ That’s so creative! Do you want a reward?” he teased, batting his eyes dramatically, which soon turned into a scowl.

“And what about you?” Jinu directed his gaze toward Abs.

“Ah, no, I’m not a fan of my name! Abs isn’t even a good name! Can’t I choose something cool? Like ‘Guns!’” He flexed his arms proudly, showcasing his muscles. Romance clapped his hands in enthusiastic support. “I think ‘abs’ is a cute name! Oh, you could even go by ‘Abby’”

With a wide grin, he wrapped an arm around the reader, radiating happiness. “Haha, yes! Maybe Gwi-ma was right about you!”

Jinu furrowed his eyebrows. "Okay, let’s move on... Our first single, ‘Soda Pop,’ is written! All we need to do now is work on the choreography, and we’ll be set for our debut," he held out papers with the lyrics on them.

Reader quickly skimmed through them. "So, did you mean to write it in a way where it sounds like you want to eat their souls or?"

"Oh no, I very much did, I find it quite funny humans don't know anything." he let out a small laugh.

"Ah..Wait, you don’t want a name?” the reader asked, genuinely curious.

“My name is Jinu,” he replied, confused.

 “No, I mean your stage name! Maybe something like Raven? Because of your hair!” the reader suggested, half-jokingly.

"Oh yeah, I knew that, phh." he clutched the papers in his hands, a darker purple on his face, before walking away slowly. “I’m gonna go…back to my room now, haha bye…bye..”

The room descended into an awkward silence, broken only by Baby's frustrated outburst. “Oh, so he gets to keep his name, but I’m just called Baby?” he spat, irritation evident in his tone.

“Relax, you know Jinu just wants to hold on to everything that makes him human while he still can,” Romance tried to calm Baby.

“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense! What? Do we not want to keep our humanity, too? It feels like we don’t get anything from this shitshow, I want my curse gone to ya know!” Baby shot back, his voice escalating.

“Please, your curse is nothing compared to the rest of ours!” Abby glared, her expression fierce. In a fit of anger, Baby clutched his water bottle so tightly that the top popped open, splashing mystery.

Just like that, a full-blown argument erupted among the four of them, the ground seemed to shake by the sheer volume of them. 

Reader put their arms up to block their face. These guys were gonna have fans? They could barely communicate without starting a fight.

“Hey!” Six angry yellow eyes suddenly glared back at them, fierce and unyielding. “I—” they almost struggled to keep their composure. Were they really going to do this? I mean, they had already agreed to a death wish, so what was the harm?

“Do you guys really think you can maintain a fanbase with those attitudes? You can barely string together two words before one of you starts yelling!” the reader exclaimed.

"And also, how are you even going to be idols, news flash, you guys are purple!" They let out a sigh as they finished.

Baby was the first one to smile. “Well, would you look at that, the manager knows how to manage,” he chuckled letting go of Abby’s hair.

Romance crossed his arms, a frown on his face. "But they’re right. If we go out looking like this, people will definitely stare, but it won’t win us any fans,” he said

“Can’t you guys just disguise yourselves as humans? I mean, we’re in this whole building, right?” Reader gestured dramatically to the apartment.

“That was Gwi-ma’s idea, not ours,” Addy replied, shaking his head. “We can disguise ourselves, sure, but it takes a lot of energy.”

“Especially when dancing,” mystery replied.

Reader glanced between them, a smirk forming as a lightbulb moment clicked. “Well, I mean, you guys are strong demons, aren’t you? Jinu picked you for a reason,” they said, wrapping an arm affectionately around Addy and Romance.

“You’re just as bad at flirting as Jinu,” Abby nodded at Romance's words.

“I’m trying to encourage you…” Reader shot back, forcing the words through clenched teeth.

A moments later and the same pink smoke appeared again this time relieving them in human form.

It was a little rusty, and you would see their patterns or eyes change for a split second, but overall it was good.

“Not bad, actually really good”

The only issue was… “We’re gonna need to do something about those clothes, though. Don’t get me wrong, the matching black outfits are great, but they’re just not… hmm, boy band-y?” Reader put a hand under their chin in thought

“So what do you suggest, oh great manager?” Baby asked rolling his eyes.

“Me? You’re letting me decide on your outfits?” Reader blinked with a mix of surprise and excitement.

“Well, we would have asked Jinu, but he’s not. Here right now.”

“He’s also like four hundred years old,” Romance added with a playful roll of his eyes.

“I would love to help, but I feel like I’d have to hear you guys perform the song first,” Reader said, genuinely excited. Who knew selling your soul could lead to a makeover montage? 

“You heard them let’s go find Jinu!” Abby punched the air. Like a pack of marching ants, they fell in line as they went to find Jinu.

“Jinu, we're pumped up and ready to dance~” Abby half sang.

They stopped at a door marked with a nameplate that read ‘Jinu’. Abby reached for the handle, only to find it locked. “Locked…” The group exchanged a few glances.

“Ha!” Abby kicked the door down.

“What is wrong with you?! You didn’t even knock!” Jinu yelled from his bed at a giant blue thing by his side. “And why do you all look like that?”

“Reader suggested we use these disguises because we’d blend in better, but now we need clothes, and they can't give us any without seeing us perform,” Addy explained, glancing back at Reader.

“We haven’t even practiced our choreography yet? And I was going to dress us, clothes aren’t that hard to understand guys”

“Wrong!” Reader screamed, stepping forward. “Fashion is incredibly complex! There are so many factors to consider when choosing what to wear.” 

With determination shining in their eyes, Reader pushed to the front. “So perform for me so I can help you pick the best outfits possible!” Were they being too much? "Please..."

"Yeah, come on, Jinu, let's go, you're the one with all the musical talent." Romance nudged baby, who rolled his eyes. "Jinu, we're already in these forms, just perform the song with us already."

He got up from his bed, making the blue thing turn alongside him, “Come along, Durpy.”

Romance put a hand to their ear “that’s her you encourage someone” he said whispering.

But reader was focused on something much more important.

A very big cat is the only thing reader could think of as they watch it walk past them. “I need that.”

“What?” one of the boys replied, looking puzzled. “What?”

Finally, Jinu stood before them in his human form, just like the others, they were ready to perform their practice performance.

“Just count down from three, then hit the button,” Jinu instructed.

“Got it, and one, two, three go!” Reader pressed the play button 

Settling down next to Durpy, they found themselves bobbing their head to the hypnotic beat that filled the room. The music was undeniably fun, and the boys' voices were surprisingly harmonious. Well, considering they were demons, it made sense performing was kind of their specialty.

“Wha!” reader had to duck down so they wouldn't get hit by the flying pink heart. Durpy tilted his head slowly.

As the music came to an end, the boys posed in perfect synchronization. “There, do you have everything you need now?” Jinu stepped toward the reader, his brow glistening with sweat, clearly trying to maintain composure despite them all looking like shit.

“Actually, yes! Oh, and you guys can change back now!” The moment the words left their lips, all of them let out a relieved sigh as they morphed back into their original forms.

“Now, how am I going to get these clothes? It’s not like I have any money,” the reader thought aloud. “Does Giw-ma have a credit card or something?”

Juni wiped the sweat from his forehead and handed them a card, his expression earnest. “I won’t disappoint you!” reader exclaimed, rushing out of the room with determination.

“Gahhh, I need some water,” Baby groaned, doubling over and placing his hands on his knees, clearly feeling the effects of their hard work.

[unsolicited-opinions]

Hi ! I’m lurking through your blog and you seem very mature, like in a way that’s rare to find. I naively had similar beliefs as a teen but now feel like I’m never radical enough or useless, I felt like I lost myself and I wanted to ask how do you stay confident in your mindset.

Old, Anon.

The word you're looking for is old.

Aging is weird.

The truth is that I don't stay confident in my mindset.

I think that's mostly a good thing, because the reflex to defend a mindset can drive you to bypass genuine listening and reconsideration when presented with new information or new ideas.

Mindsets can get tangled up in feelings, fallacies, and cognitive biases.

I try instead to stay open and skeptical, especially of myself. That uncertainty keeps me checking in with my beliefs. It helps me pause before posting, read people I disagree with, and listen when people disagree in good faith.

Maybe you're really asking something deeper, Anon.

You mentioned feeling like you're never radical enough, or that maybe you've lost yourself.

That disorientation, that sense of being not enough for the tribe you're supposed to belong to is real.

It's especially brutal when you actually care about justice...but your community starts measuring morality by loyalty, shibboleths and performed tribal rituals instead of by integrity.

You're not alone in feeling this way.

____

I've been trying to understand what's happening when a wide variety of people get angry at me.

In the past week alone, no shit, I've had each of the following spit at me as contemptuous invective by someone on Tumblr in Replies, Asks, or Reblogs:

Communist!

Liberal!

Centrist!

Nazi!

Boot-licking Fascist!

I've been trying to figure out what it is I'm doing which is so upsetting to so many people across so many ideological camps.

My working hypothesis:

Consistency is a strangely radical trait to display publicly in a polarized society and it is deeply offensive to people on either end of the horseshoe.

Below are moral principles which I think always apply.

These aren't slogans or moral flexes.

I often want to check and re-calibrate my own internal tools for moral navigation, and that's what this sort of thing does for me.

They're guardrails which help me avoid going off the road of human decency or straying from my core moral beliefs. They're also not comprehensive or universal - they're just some examples which are useful and meaningful for me.

Every People Has a Right to Exist

All of them.

You don't have to love every culture. You don't have to endorse every political entity, but no group deserves to be erased.

If your activism involves erasing a people physically, culturally, or symbolically, you're not doing liberation work.

Oppression Doesn't Excuse Oppression

Being hurt doesn't give you a free pass to hurt others. Nothing justifies massacres. Bigotry and violence don't become righteous when they're flipped upside down.

If we cheer atrocities when "our side" commits them, we're not opposing violence, we're promoting it.

Human Rights Are Universal

Women's rights matter in Afghanistan and in the US.

LGBTQ+ rights matter in Iran and in Florida. The right to protest matters in Gaza, Georgia, and Tehran.

Free speech matters even when it protects people you disagree with.

If we bring up human rights to attack our enemies but excuse our allies when they do the same, we're making human rights which should be universal into something selective and tribal.

Targeting Civilians is Never Acceptable

Drone strikes. Suicide bombings. School shootings. Pogroms. Doesn't matter who's doing it or why. Targeting civilians is always wrong.

Moral Agency Applies to Everyone

People and movements must be judged by what they do, not by the story they tell about themselves.

This includes the US, Hamas, Russia, MAGA, antifa, the IDF, radical feminists, the Ayatollah, and your favorite TikToker.

If you treat any group as too victimized to be morally responsible, you're infantilzing and dehumanizing them. It's not compassion, it's condescension.

Oppressed ≠ pure.

Powerful ≠ evil.

The Ends Don't Justify Inhumane Means

If a "revolution" regularly promotes torture, genocide, authoritarianism, or child soldiers...it's not a liberation movement.

If a cause requires mass deception or mass suffering to work, the cause should be revised or abandoned.

"By any means necessary" can go very wrong very quickly and this phrase should not be used often, casually, or as an abdication of moral responsibility.

Peace and Justice Require Listening

You don't build a better future by eradicating your enemies. You build it by figuring out how to share space with people you may never fully agree with.

Justice requires truth and accountability...then forgiveness and coexistence.

When movements start purging dissent, silencing disagreement, and chasing utopias through destruction...that's when they start becoming the thing they claimed to fight.

Right now:

Identity is treated as morality, and power is treated as sin.

Being "on the right side" means never having to check yourself.

Rage/outrage is mistaken for moral clarity.

Empathy is weaponized against an enemy, not leveraged to relieve suffering.

The loudest performers are drowning out those who are working meaningfully and materially for peace.

A large number of us have abandoned consistent principles and ended up cheering for monsters...mostly because the monsters hate the same people we do.

So I try to hold onto moral principles that don't change based on who's in power, or who's claiming victimhood. Moral principles which focus on alleviation of suffering and promotion of justice, not on revenge or the balancing of scales. Principles which prioritize action over performance, and rational universalism over tribalism.

To be clear, I don't think doing this makes me neutral or right.

But I do hope it makes me trustworthy.

---

Anon, if you're feeling lost or like you're not "radical enough," maybe ask yourself:

Are you anxious about being faithful to your values...or just to your group?

Are you sacrificing thought for belonging? Are you sacrificing your own moral principles for social acceptance?

Where did you get the idea that there's some threshold of being "radical enough," and that other people can set that threshold without your consent?

Solidarity without principle isn't justice. It's just one's preferred (or socially acceptable) flavor and direction of selective injustice.

So...what beliefs/principles/values do you hold as sacred no matter what group they're applied to?

---

The quiet moments when you're alone with your conscience are the ones which will tell you who you are.

So don't worry about falling short of perfection, Anon- everyone falls short of that.

And maybe don't worry about falling short of other people's standards either - because it'll never be possible to satisfy them, and you don't owe them a performance or allegiance to their standards.

You owe yourself consistent commitment to your standards.

___

If you feel like you're "never radical enough" or that you've lost yourself somewhere along the way, consider the possibility that you're just experiencing the natural results of trying to be honest and true to yourself in a dishonest, inconsistent, polarized, tribal, performative, reactionary, dangerous time.

Managing that can be difficult and unpleasant, but even just making the attempt takes courage...and you're already working on it.

That's more than most people ever manage.

[nikknamed-ink]

What helps me in life, or rather the thing I struggle with most, is pressure.

I had a time during my school days, when I didn't write at all. I only noticed this like a year in, but I simply had no time due to the school pressure and having to learn, and stuff.

I also had a time, maybe it was even the same timeframe but I don't remember fully, when I decided that if I can't finish anything I start I can't start anything new.

This pressure led to me not writing at all for that time.

Maybe situation A caused B, maybe the other way around, but I spent a long long while not writing.

I think what helped me out of it, ultimately,was a) to give it time. And b) to take all the pressure out. Or, as much as I could.

That could look like: only writing down ideas (a habit I rly rly encourage. Write down your ideas every time you get them bc that means you'll get more and it's generally a lot of fun to look at later on). Or... Only writing dialogue. Or something that might help you: if you wanna get back, but you can't get far, set yourself the goal of writing one (1) word per day. Just one. If you feel like more you can write more. But just write one. That's all it takes.

Because I generally find that putting pressure on myself to do it all always super well it... Leads to disappointment and pain when I get a bad day and I get rly hard on myself about it.

Which, also, I wanna talk about: be kind to yourself. Focus on what you did do, not what you didn't.

When you said you managed to write 2 sentences and then faltered, that's two entire sentences! That's amazing. Like, you went from not using those muscles to two sentences. That's infinite improvement.

But I think, what's most important, is listen to your body and brain. If something doesn't work it usually is a clue for the fact that you're going at it wrong. Find different routes. If you wrote a lot of prose (novel-like text for example), then try poetry. If you can't get descriptions down, try dialogue only. Or the reverse. How about movie scripts? Comics? See what strikes your fancy!

I'm currently in a phase where I don't really write much in the "the story moves forward" sense, but I plan a lot. I think about the stories, I try to figure out where the story goes and what the problems are and why this character does that.

Lean into what works, and ignore what doesn’t for now. And look at that in a week or so and try to figure out why.

Also, best tip of mine: grab yourself a buddy and talk with them about your ideas. Brainstorm together. Create ideas that aren't intended to be written down. There's lots of games for this. (or if you don't know any, plushies or making an audio to yourself are great ways to just talk out loud to yourself about the story or characters or whatever it is that actually drives you to the stories you wanna tell.

See what works. Celebrate it. And be proud of what you're doing. Pressure is the enemy of creativity. At least it is for me.

Hi! Lately, I've been trying real hard to start writing again after a break of a couple of years, and it's simply not happening. I took the break to begin with because I figured that I could pick up writing fic again easily when I felt less burned out. But each time I've tried since 2025 started I can barely get the words out. I keep telling myself I need to go slow and build up to it, but my brain blanks after a sentence or two, with or without an outline. I can force myself into a drabble or two, or even a flashfic, but it feels like pulling teeth the entire time. I even tried going back to old drafts and adding to them (unsuccessfully). Nothing works! I'm getting more and more frustrated and angry with myself for taking this long of a break from being creative. Do you have any concrete recommendations for what to do when the ideas/words/characters/whatever just aren't coming? My brain is mush.

(I love this blog. So excited to see you back.)

I'll tell you what I do, but I also want to encourage folks to add their thoughts on the notes. This is very much a situation that can be worked on in a million different ways, so any one particular take might or might not work. Often, frankensteining a bunch together is the better route.

I've currently got two creative hobbies: writing fic and making site skins for AO3. When a site skin isn't working, I just have to drop it. I've been attempting to redo my glowy blue Tron skin from like 4 years ago and every time I go back to it, I just get frustrated and need to stop. I don't have a clear idea of where I want to take it, and so nothing looks "right" because everything feels wrong. For site skins, I need to have a solid idea to latch onto in order to get anywhere with them.

For writing, it's kind of similar. It's a LOT easier to write when I have an idea that really lights a fire under me. However, I've found that I can write even if I just know what the end goal of the story is. Even if my ending is just "and then they bone" at least I know where I need to get my characters in the end, and that guiding principle is really helpful because most of what my characters do in the fic is going to be aimed at that end point.

I don't know if it's just the way that you've phrased it in this ask, but it seems like you can't see the story for the words. If you're focused too much on the act of writing then you might need to back away from that for now and work on just imagining the story first. Spend more time daydreaming or lying in bed staring up at the ceiling and picturing your blorbo in situations. Get into the habit of thinking about the story before you start writing the story. Then the writing part is just transcribing the picture that's already clear in your head.

I well understand the frustration that comes when you've got something in you and no way to get it out. Whatever else is happening, the way you used to go about writing fic doesn't work for you anymore and now you need to discover a new method. Maybe it's handwriting in a notebook instead of typing on a screen. Maybe it's dictating into your notes app. Maybe it's chatting it out with a bestie over coffee or in a DM. Maybe it's something else.

Let's see what other people suggest for you, and then you can cobble together a method of your very own. Good luck, anon! I'm rooting for you ❤️

[cloud9dreamer]

Hi there!! Two ask requests, please feel free to do either one :3

Reader and Floyd are platonic best friends, which leads to Jade being interested in who his brother has been so enthralled with. Then Jade falls for reader and Floyd tries to help the two get together!

Orrrr

Malleus and reader have been bumping into each other in the library. Then slowly, reader starts to notice him outside of Ramshackle. He’s always alone so she approaches him. Turns out he’s lovely!! Then slowburn into a kiss and confession!

Thank you for request! I chose the second one and I might publish the 1st one too once I get done with all the other requests. Thank you for your patience.

Edit: you might wanna give forwards, beckon, rebound. It's so malleus.

It started with a book.

Well… many books, really. You’d gotten into the habit of visiting the Night Raven College library in the quieter hours, when most students were still tangled up in classes or distracted by chaos elsewhere on campus. That’s when he’d always be there — that tall, dark figure hidden deep in the corner alcove between magical theory, gargoyle study, and beastlore.

You hadn’t meant to bump into him. The first time it happened, you'd been skimming the library for the upcoming test all the while balancing a stack of spellbooks in your arms. You tilt your head at an awkward angle. trying to read the spine of another and suddenly—

“Ah—pardon me,” you had mumbled, startled as your shoulder hit something firm.

Reptilian green eyes flicked toward you, strange and glowing in the dim light. “No harm done,” came the gentle, slow voice.

You realized then just who you had bumped into.

Malleus Draconia.

The prince. The feared. The fae.

And you’d just jostled him like he was a hallway locker.

You bowed your head awkwardly with a stammered apology and ducked away, cheeks burning from sheer embarrassment.

But then it happened again. And again.

Every time, you’d find yourselves gravitating toward the same corners, reaching for the same rare volumes, hovering in shared silences. He never seemed to mind, and you came to notice the smallest quirks — the way his eyes lingered on the page long after finishing it, as if absorbing its magic through thought alone, or how he sometimes smiled softly when reading about ancient human customs.

Still, he always seemed... alone.

You noticed it more and more after that. From your window at Ramshackle, you began to spot him outside sometimes, walking through the silent gardens at dusk or standing beneath the brooding crooked trees, bathed in moonlight, utterly solitary.

No one was ever with him. Not Sebek. Not Lilia. Not Silver. Just Malleus, and the wind curling around his cloak like a lover in mourning....

....It pulled at something in your chest.

So, one evening — quiet, misty, and blue with approaching twilight — you stepped outside and made your way to where he stood, unmoving, watching fireflies flicker near the hedges.

He turned when you approached, surprised but not displeased. “Ah… it’s you.”

You smiled gently, heart thudding louder than you'd like. “Yeah. I, uh… saw you from the window. Mind some company?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You would choose to spend time with me… willingly?”

You laughed under your breath, brushing hair behind your ear. “You say that like you’re some cursed beast in a fairy tale.”

He blinked. And then — smiled. It was small, almost startled, but real.

“No one ever seeks me out like this,” he said quietly. “Not without purpose. Not without fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Malleus,” you answered, truth resting comfortably in your voice. “You're always reading in corners and walking alone. I thought… maybe you’d like someone to talk to.”

“I would.”

That was the first of many evenings. You began walking together, talking about things mundane and strange — dreams, magic, books, stars. He listened like no one else ever did, truly and wholly. And when he spoke, it was with such deliberate care, like his words were treasures. You found yourself wanting to draw more of them out.

Sometimes you’d meet in the library again, your chairs slowly inching closer over days and weeks. Sometimes he’d walk you back to Ramshackle, even if it meant lingering in the mist like a shadow until your light flicked on.

You didn’t know when it happened. When the way your name sounded in his voice made your stomach flutter. When his laugh — that rare, low, rumbling thing — made your heart ache with how beautiful it was.

It was slow. Like spring thaw. Like starlight blooming in the dark.

One night, you sat together under the boughs of a twisted tree. The sky above was endless, scattered with stars, and fireflies danced like spirits around you. You turned to look at him, and found he was already watching.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you asked, voice a little breathless.

Malleus hesitated, then leaned closer. “Because you see me,” he said. “Not the heir. Not the fae. Me.”

Your throat tightened. He was so close now. You could see every fleck of green in his eyes, the soft lift of breath in his chest.

“I do,” you whispered. “Malleus I....I think I’m falling for you.”

His hand brushed yours, warm and tentative. Then, his touch cradled your cheek, reverent and light, like you were something sacred.

“I have never known affection like this,” he murmured. “But if it is falling… then let me fall with you.”

He kissed you then. Soft. Slow. The kind of kiss that felt like a spell, like a promise that didn’t need words.

And from that moment on, he was never alone again. Not in the library. Not in the gardens. Not in the quiet corners of his heart.

[jester-nonconforming]

at first i was like “oh, i wish the short showed Blitz and Loona interacting more,” but the more i think about it, the more i feel like them *not* interacting informs us about their relationship. they had all this time while Mr. Wrigglers was saying goodbye to everyone, but Loona is on her phone and Blitz is just sitting around bored. Blitz really *wants* to hang out with her, and he spends a lot of his daily life around her, but he seemingly still has no idea how to actually *engage*.

and this is a problem in all of Blitz’s relationships—he doesn’t feel secure enough to just ask people to spend time with him, so he either makes everything sexual (which he obviously wouldn’t do with Loona) or he focuses on what he can give them (money for their jobs, driving them places, cooking them food, protecting them from harm, etc). he’s gotten better about focusing less on sex as he becomes a bit more secure in his friendships w/ Stolas, M&M, and Fizz, but he still really relies on that other coping mechanism of “here let me do these things for you and in return you won’t leave when i talk about horses for an hour”.

so in a case like this, where he IS just trying to reach out to Loona (which is a lot more vulnerable for him than i think he’d admit) and the plans change in any way, he falters. he’s completely stuck on his original idea for the day and he can’t get out of that mindset enough to listen to what she wants here.

it’s not that i think he doesn’t notice other people’s interests or wants or needs—he definitely does, at least when he’s not clouded by jealousy or other emotions—i think he just does not know how to have a conversation that isn’t focused on himself. and i don’t mean that in an asshole way, i mean it in a “ADHD kid who never learned how to communicate” way. that’s why his relationship with Moxxie works in some ways, because Moxxie and Blitz are both people who will just talk about their interests without prompting (and yes this is a very neurodivergent type of friendship lol). and with Millie he can talk about their shared interests, or just play games, because him and Millie are both more physical people. and with Stolas, Blitz can be the center of attention and Stolas *prefers* it that way. but with Loona being closed off, he just doesn’t really know how to reach her?

he also tends to be really invasive with his friends (again, he’s getting better at it, but still), but he really tries to give her privacy. at least, we’ve never seen him go into her room or ask what she’s doing on her phone. which is a VERY good thing that probably allows her to feel way more comfortable around him. but it doesn’t give him a lot to work with, and i don’t think he realizes that he could just ask her questions about her interests, or would even know where to start (honestly, idk if i would either, that’s a hard thing to do when someone isn’t giving you much to work with).

and all this doesn’t mean Blitz and Loona’s relationship is “bad” or that they don’t love each other. in fact, I think Loona being comfortable with just existing in the same space as Blitz, rolling her eyes at his antics, finding him kind of annoying and embarrassing but trusting that he’ll always be there and relying on him—that’s all pretty typical “teenager with her father” behavior, and despite being an adult, Loona is still working through a lot of teenage experiences. she might have seen Mr. Wrigglers as an idealized dream father figure, but even he couldn’t live up to that standard in the end. her relationship with Blitz reminds me a lot more of how i was with my parents when i was younger, tbh.

but for all the criticism people tend to give to Stolas and Via’s relationship… there’s actually a decent amount of evidence that, when Via isn’t mad at him, those two are better at just hanging out with each other? Stolas obviously misses the mark sometimes as she gets older, but every picture of them from the past shows them both grinning and clearly actively engaging with each other. he focuses on interests they have in common (like telling her about space, or giving her a guitar to further her interest in music), and Via is a lot more receptive to that (which i’m sure is partially because she grew up around those things).

i’m curious to see if Stolas being more quiet and patient will allow Loona to open up more. the short makes it clear she *wants* to open up at this point, and that’s definitely because of the time and effort Blitz has put in over the past 5 years. but after being unsafe for so long and then closed off for even longer, i don’t think she knows *how* to open up, or when is appropriate (because showing your demon form to a random human was a pretty impulsive and unwise decision. again, a rather teenage one). i think it would be cool to see how as much as Blitz can teach Stolas about reaching out to Via, Stolas might be able to teach Blitz some things about connecting with Loona as well.

[gothghostiie]

Hiiiiiiiii

Woop I know you don’t always answer asks and I’ve sent several other ones but can I please have soap content?

It can be literally anything I just need a speck of thing please it can be like one sentence if you so wish I don’t care I’m just absolutely feral for him and I need something

PLEASE

-📺

Im normal :3

I apologise beloved, I have not been feeling very creative/motivated lately, even tho I really want to write 😭 you're getting something from my wips that I thought of a few weeks ago

cw: reader is unsure but ends up enjoying it, fingering, oral (reader receiving), spit as lube, praise, gn!reader (some mention of genitalia but I always mention both), abrupt ending

Nurse!Soap who works in a big hospital. he's beloved by all his colleagues, from cleaning staff to the doctors, they know and love him. and how could they not? He's a kind man, always in a good mood, accommodating to the point people think he can read minds, and he just does good work in general. the patients love him too, he's a pro at cheering up kids and the elderly people absolutely adore his charm, he's made more than one heart monitor beep a little faster with his cheeky grin.

so when you get into the hospital, naturally, he's assigned to your room. lucky for Johnny you, it's a single room (for now, the empty bed on the other side does make you feel a bit uneasy in all honesty), giving you some well needed peace and privacy to rest properly. if it wasn't for Johnny. Johnny has decided to take his job a bit too serious with you, checking in on you whenever he can, making sure you have everything you need. he's a sweetheart and you truly like him, if not for his caring personality then for his good looks, at least you've got something to look at during all the boredom. you're truly starting to wish you'd be getting a roommate, but the bed stays empty. soap even offers to push the beds together to give you a bit more room, but you just laughed and shook your head, ignoring the split second of disappointment on his face, thinking you've just imagined that.

it's a quiet night on the ward, yet you're lying awake at 2am, unable to sleep. you just switch between staring out of the window and at the ceiling, trying to figure out which will make you go insane slower, when the door pushes open slowly. in the dim light you see a mohawk poke inside, soap raises his eyebrows in surprise when he sees you looking back at him. "hey.. what are you doin' up so late?" his tone is gentle and a little teasing, hes giving you a toothy grin as he walks inside and closes the door behind him, you miss that he locks it quietly.

you smile at him with a sigh, telling him you cant sleep and you dont know why, youre tired enough for it after all. he walks closer and sits down on the side of your bed, placing a hand atop of the blanket, feeling for your thigh and 'accidentally' putting it far too close to your crotch. he frowns at you with pity, cooing something along the lines of "poor thing" while his hand inches a bit higher. "you know," he starts, "I could give you something to help you relax a bit." he offers, his tone low, like he's not supposed to say that.

you shake your head, you don't wanna take any more meds than you already do, you don't quite love taking the amount of pills you already do, and you could really stand to miss out on any injection, no matter how gentle soap is with them. but when you tell him that, he chuckles quietly and scoots closer. "I'm not gonna give you any more meds, love. gonna do something real nice for my favourite patient, alright?" you hesitate, eyeing him over once, his blue eyes have a twinkle that you can't quite read to them. before you can answer him he pulls back the blanket, exposing your pyjamas. you look at him startled, he smiles. "don't worry. Just lie back and let me take care of you, yea? that's my job after all."

you don't know why, but you listen to him. you lie back, your hands gripping the flimsy bedding a bit too tight, your hands getting damp. Johnny just smiles down at you while pulling your pyjama pants down to your knees along with your underwear, exposing you to the cold air, making your eyes widen. "johnny-"

"shh, it's alright, I promise. I'll be gentle." he winks at you, running a gentle hand over your cock/pussy. "look at that.. youre ready for me, aren't you?" he watches you twitch, smiling wider. "yea, you are." he starts touching you gently, getting you hard/wet, cooing praises at you. your mouth hangs open as you watch him, not even noticing that his free hand wanders, only realising when he's slipping his fingers into your mouth. he just grins at you. "get them nice and wet, alright? that's all you gotta do for me." he holds eye contact, giving a small, encouraging nod, smirking when he feels your tongue run over and between his calloused fingers, covering them in your saliva. he smiles as he pulls them out, watching it string between them. "good job.." he coos, shifting around to reach down, and press two slicked up fingers agaisnt your tight hole.

you gasp, tensing up, but he just chuckles quietly. "shh, it's alright. Just take a deep breath, and.." he pushes them inside, stretching you open slightly, grinning at the whine coming from your throat. "there we go.." he merely gives you a moment to adjust before he starts curling them inside you. soft moans spill from your lips, you immediately try to hold them back, not wanting anyone to hear through the paper thin walls of the hospital. one of your hands finally releases its death grip on the sheets to cover your mouth - soap immediately frowns. "nono, let me hear you. come on." he tries to coax you, gently placing the hand that was playing with your nub/cock before on your wrist, giving it a gentle tug, but you don't give way. his frown deepens, then he sighs. "You really that ashamed of your pretty little noises?" his fingers push deeper, moving faster. "ashamed someone will hear how well I take care of you?" soap tuts at you, rubbing his thumb over your wrist gently. "guess I'll just have to make sure you're louder."

with that he lets go of your wrist and dips his head down, placing a kiss on your clit/tip before wrapping his lips around it and suckling softly. your eyes widen and your hand presses down harder on your own lips, inhaling sharply through your nose. he smirks, humming approvingly before letting his tongue swirl around it, your hips twitching again. it's getting harder and harder to hold your whines back, your hands starting to hurt from how hard you're holding on, how are you're trying to shut yourself up, but johnny doesn't let up. not now that he has you right where he wanted you since you first got here a few weeks ago, not now that he can feel just how sensitive and desperate you are after not having touched yourself the whole time (he just knows you haven't, you're far too scared of someone (him) coming in and catching you in the act), not now that he can feel you clench around his fingers, not now that he knows how good you taste on his tongue. he'll only stop once he's made sure you've come undone, once he made sure you're tuckered out and ready to sleep, he's a good nurse after all.

[infiniity-survivor-choco]

Very Gentle Reminders:

Saying "Trauma isn't an excuse" has become the excuse to prey on trauma, and a buzzword. It's not an online gotcha debate point. But real experiences affecting the person living them, reducing someone to a spreadsheet makes you ignorant and incredibly selfish.

Nobody exists for your comfort. Nobody's experiences are yours to validate or invalidate because you're not part of the equation.

You can agree or disagree with people. You can't strip them of their agency and expect them to be kind your way.

Judgement goes both ways. You can be as judgy as you like. However. Be prepared to take what you dish out without playing victim.

Intent matters. Be openly malicious and you'll be met with the same energy.

People can care about others without caring about you. Just because you're not a relevant part of their lives or you paved your ways into someone's hit list doesn't mean the person only cares about themself. It means you've been correctly identified as emotional vampires who try to take from others' for your own benefits and cast commentary which doesn't merit acknowledgment.

No one likes clout chasers or social leeching. Have respect for people who have been doing more for others and done so longer instead of fighting over the crumbs to argue about irrelevant parts the person in question doesn't care about. Everyone's got opinions. Doesn't mean yours matter if they're ignorant or in bad faith.

You're not entitled to anything from anybody you don't know. Ever. It's also your job to curate your online experiences. It you didn't block somebody you can't later complain about them being evil by a gut feeling you had. No. Leave them alone and move on. Don't ride their coattails to try infect everyone around them because you were too entitled to spend 5 seconds learning how to use a button.

Sometimes. Shutting the fuck up is a good idea. Throw away the social script. Quit rehearsing the same emotionally congested debates. Quit trying to have a say on others' lives based on your opportunistic freeloader behaviour. Sit. Listen. Would you like being treated the same way? Or are you under the illusion you should be allowed to hurt people for fun if your excuses feel good enough?

Some people objectively have had it worse. That's nothing to get defensive over. Some people have done good their whole lives while grinding their teeth and living a daily nightmare. They persevere and keep moving. Stumble and make mistakes. But the journey is theirs. If your goal in life is to babble over their flaws and superimpose yourself as attempted authority figures on their lives to make yourself feel important about your own redundancy: you're weak, you wouldn't last a day in their shoes. You don't get to appropriate people's journeys to parasite their experiences just because you. Timmy Von Timmerson know a thousand lives like yours wouldn't equate to the worth of a day of the person in question.

It takes guts to be Emotional. Brave. Kind hearted and stubborn at once. It takes courage to let yourself feel everything and act it out to the best of your ability. It's easy to be an opportunist that will try and draw from any situation to their benefit. It's easy to be indifferent and play life on easy mode by hurting anyone for fun. If you belong to the people who are purposely emotionally unavailable to throw stones at those choosing to exist to their fullest you don't deserve mercy, empathy, compassion, or even consideration for your own well-being. If someone decided your actions mean you aren't a factor in their lives you nod and walk away. You respect their boundaries. This isn't a math test with a wrong or risk answer and there's nothing for you to do except deal with it in silence.

If you don't care about someone's disabilities, disorders, survivorship status or anything else they have going on before launching a morally bankrupt opinionated spiel on how they should exist to your convenience. You don't care about anybody but yourselves and your voice should be muted. Be quiet. "everyone has hardships" doesn't mean anything when you use it to be cynical with as a crutch to deflect from the fact you have nothing of value to offer to anybody. Interpersonally or otherwise.

I don't owe you my time. Ever. You have no authority over my feelings. Thoughts. Or actions. Anything done is a courtesy and privilege and it's up to you in deciding how you want to get treated by exhibiting behaviour that warrants an action or another.

If you save 1000 lives but the human equivalent of a housefly tries to recite your life back to you about how you didn't save life 1001 walk past them and flick them to the bin.

“Don’t be distracted by criticism. Remember, the only taste of success some people have is when they take a bite out of you.” applies to cases described above. When people you can't stand hate you most of the time you're doing something right. Let their disgruntled roars from digital caves fuel your success machine.

Most importantly. If you read this and your first instinct is to reverse it at someone. You are the problem and the person being addressed, if hearing these points makes you froth at your mouth and deconstruct every point for whataboutism purposes: this is about you, you're the target audience, stop hiding behind the uno reverse card and get over yourselves.

Have an Awesome day everybody!

[thatcoolweirdgirlwrites]

Heart to Heart ♡ | Sirius Black

Sirius Black x Fem!reader

part one, part two

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Emotional tension, minor angst, miscommunication, hurt feelings, use of Y/N, Fem!reader, mild swearing

Summary: A tense moment with Sirius Black turns into late-night regrets, an apology letter, and the slow unraveling of something neither of you expected. Slowburn, miscommunication, and a little heart to heart.

Authors' Notes: My first fic!! hope you guys like it. I'm trying to figure out how to get a master list and I'm going to post it as a series. Tumblr is CONFUSINGGGG. Lots of stuff to unpack and a lot left unsaid... anyways, enjoy reading, my lovelies. (however it's not proofread)

You weren't really friends with Sirius Black.

Not really.

He was there most of the time — loud, dramatic, and unapologetically himself — when lily would drag you along to Hogsmeade to hang out with her boyfriend, James Potter, and his three friends— one of which was Sirius. So of course sure you've had your fair share of conversation, but nothing to profound. Mostly dry small talk.

You never really knew why she was so persistent with inviting you and neither of your two other friends. Every time you asked she would just tell you the other two weren't as tolerant of the boys even though you know that was a lie.

–

Tonight was no different.

It was a Friday, so of course most normal sixth-year students would be going to parties, drinking, snogging and what-not.

But instead, you were sitting in your dorm, papers spread around your bed as you studied for an exam you had that upcoming Monday. It was taking up most of your brain space, so you did not fully register the words lily was saying from over your shoulder until you felt something hit the back of your head.

You whip your head around to find Lily looking straight at you. Your eyes flicker down to find her shoe on the floor then back up to her eyes.

"Yes, Lily?" You say with a rather annoyed, exasperated tone that she did not seem to pick up on, considering her constant chatter.

"Are you even listening to me?" She says with an unimpressed look

"no," You say bluntly. You give a slight shake of your head for affirmation and look back at your book, mumbling, "didn't comprehend a word."

Lily scoffs, rolling her eyes as she stands and crosses the room to plop down beside you, pushing some papers to the side.

Before she could open her mouth to speak you look at her and put a hand up. "No Hogsmeade today. I have to study-"

"You don't have to-"

"I want to. I can't fail this test, Lils, I'm sorry." You say trying your best to sound apologetic, but it sounded a bit too clipped to carry that through.

"Come on, when have you ever failed a test, Y/N?" She sounds absolutely flabbergasted that you would even think that could happens. "You and I are quite literally the smartest girls in our entire year."

You let out a sigh of defeat and close your book.

"You know, you could always tell James that you just want to go with him instead of a group. Then maybe we wouldn't have to do this every weekend."

"You mean me begging you for an hour just for you to eventually give in and go? I think that problem could be solved without me telling James I don't like his friends and breaking his heart." She lets out a small chuckle, rolling onto her back, her arms resting over her stomach.

"You know what, fine. When are we going? Same as last time?" You say, tossing your book to the corner and grabbing your wand.

You sit up abruptly, papers around you crinkling as you collect them and put them neatly away.

Lily nods once and stands up. "mhm, same as last time. I'm off to tell Jamie that you're coming- oh by the way, Sirius will be there tonight." She says with a grin that makes you blink a few times in confusion.

You nod once and watch her walk off. You had not seen Sirius in a minute, because it seems the only time you ever cross paths are when it's planned by your mutual friends, and the past couple of hang outs have been vacant of your presence due to 'studying'— Or at least that's what you told them.

–

Later that evening — after taking not even five minutes to get ready — You walk down to the common room, finding Lily, James, Remus, Peter, and Sirius huddled by the couches, looking cozy.

You felt a bit bad being the last one out, making them wait for you, but you shrug off the feeling of guilt weighing on your shoulder and walk over.

"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you lot waiting" you say quietly, watching them all stand up

"It's quite alright, we weren't waiting for long. Sirius took forty minutes to do his hair and you took — what — five?" James says with a grin, looking at Sirius, who grumbled and rolled his eyes, walking to the door of the common room.

You watch him walk away, pulling his leather jacket around himself more. A small smile graced your lips. Not particularly at him, but more the fact that he had taken longer than you just on his hair.

It was the start of winter — so of course, it was blistering outside — and in your rush to not keep them waiting you forgot to grab a jacket.

"Shit-" You mumble to yourself as the snow and cold hits your skin through the long sleeve shirt.

The coverage barely did anything to keep you warm.

You were walking a bit behind the rest, your feet sinking into the snow and your arms wrapped around your body, doing nothing to conceal the shivers that ran through you.

Your eyes were downcast as the chatter of James and Lily laughing a bit too loud at something Peter had said filled the air. How the hell were they always so cheery?

The chattering of your teeth echoed loud, so much so that you didn't realize the figure walking next to you. That was until you felt something get draped over you.

You jumped a bit, the crunch of snow under your nearly soaked converse stopped as you came to a halt. Your head shoots up and your eyes were wide as you see him standing there with a soft smile on his face.

Sirius Black.

He tilted his head a bit and his smile turned into a grin. "What? Something on my face?"

You blink your shock away and start mumbling something, sentences that even you couldn't fully understand. You were completely thrown off by his action and started to take his leather jacket off of yourself to give it back to him.

"I can't- Here, you're going to freeze-"

He shook his head adjusting it on your shoulders and pressing a hand to your back, not forcing you, but lightly urging you to walk forward — as the group had gotten a bit further ahead.

"Don't mention it, love. I'll be fine, cold doesn't bother me" he whispers while looking ahead, his voice uncharacteristically soft, maybe that's why he said it so quietly, but instead of dwelling on it you choose to walk.

His hand never left your back until you got up to the rest.

–

The pub smelled of butter beer, wood-polish, and sweat. There were plenty of old drunk wizards all around, but eventually you all found an empty table to sit at.

You choose the seat closest to the wall, feeling like you'd be less of an intrusion on the groups conversation that way. Sirius took the spot next to you, Peter beside him, and the other three across.

You weren't much of a fan of butter beer, so instead you sat there. You listened to the conversation (barely) and your eyes kept darting to the door. You couldn't wait to get back to your dorm.

You had completely forgot you were wearing Sirius' jacket until you heard Remus across from you. "Y/N, Is that Sirius'? When did you get that?"

And just like that all eyes were on you. Your face turned a light shade of red, heat creeping up for neck and to your ears and cheeks.

"Oh- Uhm yes- it's- I wasn't-" You gave up on trying to speak after that embarrassing stumble of words that left your mouth and just blinked and nodded.

Your fingers were messing with the hem of it, the sleeves falling a bit past your fingers. Your eyes were down on your lap as you heard them teasing. Thankfully Sirius noticed your uncomfortable body language.

"Don't be weird, you lot. I just gave it to her because she was shivering. I barely even know her. It means nothing. If I wanted to do anything more I would've done it already."

He says it so confidently that you nod, but then you think for a moment. You look up at him. You were never the confrontational type but the way he said that seemed almost demeaning.

"Would've done it already? And pray tell, Black, what makes you think I'd let you do anything with me?"

You scoff, going from grateful to offended in mere seconds.

He glances at you and looks a bit shocked at your question. "Come on, Y/N, look at me," He gestures to himself, one hand still holding hid butter beer. "You're telling me you wouldn't want one night to have all of this?"

By the way your eyes widened a fraction and the table got quiet he could tell he just said something wrong. Lily in particular knew how you were when it came to men being like that.

"Right, because you're just soooo hot and perfect." You laugh. The sound was not sweet or warm. It was bitter, like what he had said just changed your whole view of him.

"Are you always this arrogant and full of yourself? Sirius, there is not a chance in this world would I want to do anything with you. Ever. I don't know you like that, and merlin knows now that I don't want to. I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot broomstick."

The table was now dead silent.

Even James — who could talk through all of detention and and then some in one breath — sat there, not saying one word.

You could feel the weight of every gaze around you. Lily’s eyes were wide. Now, with Sirius Black sitting beside you — his leather jacket still warm on your shoulders — you felt too exposed.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, that cocky look was swiped right off his face. His jaw was tight. He looked at you for a long moment. not sharp or defensive. Just watching you, like he was trying to read something off your face, though he's not even sure what invisible words he's searching for.

“…Right,” he said at last. Not playful. Not sarcastic. Just quiet.

He stood up, too sudden.

“Anyone want another drink?” His voice was too light now, forced. “No? Alright then.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked off toward the bar, the heels of his boots muffled by the pub floor.

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. You didn’t say anything.

Because what were you supposed to say? Sorry your joke flew over my head? Sorry for reacting with the emotions that I felt in the moment?

You sank into the back of your chair, fingers still fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket.

It smelled like him. Smoke and something like pine, musk, and leather. Cologne most likely. You hadn't really smelled it before this moment. You hated that you noticed, because now that you did it was overbearing.

–

Sirius didn’t come back for a while. When he did, he didn’t sit. He walked past the table and gave James a look, nodding toward the door.

“Think I’m heading out. It’s late.”

It wasn’t late.

But no one argued.

Instead you all stood and got our things.

The walk back was silent.

No loud talking. No laughter. Just the crunch of boots against packed snow and the way Sirius’ jacket weighed heavier on your shoulders now that you were acutely aware of the feeling on your shoulders.

He didn’t walk with the group. He kept a bit ahead and kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched over and a unreadable expression on his sharp-featured face. You hated how your eyes kept drifting toward him.

When you finally made it back to Gryffindor Tower, he didn’t wait at the portrait hole for James to say goodnight to Lily.

You followed a few steps later. You felt your chest tightening. guilt was gnawing at the edge of your thoughts.

You hadn’t meant to be so cruel to him.

You’d meant to stand up for yourself. You always had a hard line for people like him — boys who flirted like it was a game, who thought you were there to fall for them. But for some reason, it hadn’t felt satisfying to put him in his place.

It felt like you’d broken something you didn’t know was there to begin with.

–

That night, after everyone trickled back into their dorms in uncomfortable silence, you found James lingering near the stairs to the boys’ dormitory with Lily.

“Sirius already went up,” he said when you stopped in front of him, jacket folded neatly over your arm.

You didn’t look up, just held it out. “Can you give this to him?”

James nodded, something gentle and unreadable in his expression. He didn’t say anything. Just took it from you carefully and disappeared up the stairs.

You follow pursuit in the girls side. Lily followed not too far behind. You ignore the chatter of Marlene and Dorcas as you walk into the room, your mind replaying the words over and over, trying to find some reason for caring so much.

'It means nothing.'

'If I wanted to do anything more, I would’ve done it already.'

'Would’ve done it already? And pray tell, Black, what makes you think I’d let you do anything with me?'

You flopped onto your bed face-first, the mattress creaking beneath you as you groaned into your pillow. What had gotten into you?

You weren’t supposed to care.

Not about bloody Sirius Black.

“She’s sulking,” Marlene’s voice came through the air like a siren, equal parts smug and concerned. “I can feel it.”

“I’m not sulking." you mumbled into the pillow.

Lily sighed, walking over to her bed and fell back onto her own bed, the frame creaking. “You absolutely are."

She turned to look at the other two girls. "She told Sirius off in front of all of the boys. He was being himself and... you know how that goes."

“Leave her alone,” Dorcas said lightly from her spot at the window. “She’s humiliated.”

You groaned. “Why are all of you like this?”

“Because we care,” Marlene sang, throwing herself onto your bed and nearly bouncing you off the mattress. “Also, because you stood up to Sirius Black in front of half of the pub, and I will be talking about it until I die.”

It wasn’t even that big a deal,” you muttered.

Dorcas flopped beside you, tugging the pillow away from your face. “It kind of was. He never gets called out."

"How did the conversation even go?" Marlene asked curiously, and without a second thought you started to explain. All the way from him giving you his jacket to the moment he left.

"Then he left. Said it was 'late'. We all followed."

Marlene laughed. “He acted like you should be grateful for the privilege of being flirted with by him. I would’ve hexed him for that one-liner alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, thank you, Marls, but this doesn’t actually make me feel better.”

Dorcas gave you a small smile. “You know, he didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, so now we’re defending him?” Marlene scoffed.

“No,” Dorcas said firmly. “I’m just saying—he didn’t sound like he was trying to humiliate her. He was trying to cover.”

“…Poorly,” Lily added, nodding. “But yeah. I don’t think he meant to hurt you. I think he’s just an idiot.”

You let out a long breath and turned onto your back, staring up at the canopy of your bed. “Yeah. Well. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“No,” Dorcas agreed. “But maybe you should apologize.”

Marlene scoffed. “Apologize? For what? Not throwing yourself at him? That man needs to be humbled more often.”

“He already was, Marls,” Lily said with a grin. “Trust me. He’s probably lying in bed right now staring at the ceiling, contemplating his existence.”

You closed your eyes, cringing. “Great. So we’re both having a crisis.”

You sighed loud and dramatically. Why do you feel so bad for him now?

Then Dorcas sat up straighter. “Okay. I’ve got it.”

“Oh no,” Marlene muttered.

Dorcas ignored her. “A letter.”

You cracked an eye open. “A what?”

“A letter,” she repeated. “Nothing dramatic. Just a short apology. Something honest, and non-flirty, and perfectly vague.”

Marlene was already shaking her head. “That’s so boring.” She rolls onto her side with arm propping her head up.

It’s mature,” Dorcas countered. “And it gives her control over the narrative again. You don’t have to grovel. Just acknowledge that it was a weird moment and you didn’t mean to snap. No harm done.”

You blinked at her. “That’s… actually not a terrible idea.”

-

It was half-past midnight now.

You were all on the floor, backs against your bed frame, your duvet pooled behind you and a battlefield of crumpled parchment scattered across the rug.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” you muttered, glaring at your latest attempt.

It read:

Sirius,

Sorry for snapping at you. I’m not usually that Aggressive? Defensive? Loud? Whatever.

Didn’t mean to ruin the night. Thanks for the jacket.

– Love, Y/N

You flopped back against the floor with a groan. “He’s going to think I’m obsessed with him!" You whine.

“You are not obsessed with him,” Dorcas said calmly, grabbing a fresh piece of parchment. “You’re just being decent.”

“I called him full of himself and said I’d never touch him with a ten-foot broomstick.”

“Well…” Marlene shrugged. “He was being a prat.”

“That’s not the point.”

“The point,” Lily cut in gently, “is that you want him to know you’re not actually angry. Right?”

You nodded.

“Then just say that. Forget the formal stuff. Just be you.”

You swallow thickly and blink a few times, mulling over your thoughts. Did you really want to be you for Sirius? You didn't even know the boy well-

oh.

Perfect.

You pick up your quill and begin to write:

Sirius,

I think I overreacted.

You made a dumb joke, and I let it get to me in a way that surprised both of us.

I don’t usually snap like that. You didn’t deserve it.

Thank you for the jacket. It was kind of you, even if the delivery afterward needed…work.

We don’t really know each other. But maybe we could.

If you want. ♡

– Y/N

You stared at it for a long moment.

Marlene leaned over and, without asking, drew a tiny heart in the bottom right corner. She didn’t say a word. None of them did.

Then Dorcas took it, read it, nodded once, and folded it carefully.

“I'll go give it to James,” Lily said. “No big moment. No drama. Just…a letter.”

You exhaled slowly.

“Okay.”

As soon as you start to overthink Lily was on the way out to the boys dorms.

"wait- she's going to think I like him! Shit, I shouldn't have said I wanted to get to know him- to desperate. I'm not desperate-"

"It's fine, Y/N" Lily calls before the door shuts completely and you fall back, running your hands over your face.

What did you just get yourself into?

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

You posted the master lists and now I'm thinking about Doodle Ford again. Because... How estranged is Stan from his family in this situation? Stan's gotta get his memory back because sad endings are not allowed, but in lieu of a convenient scrapbook, they probably use a combination of whatever photos he has around the house and... the comics. Stan already merged with Stanley when the worlds collided. So he visits home with his twin who was totally here the whole time, right Mom? Shermie?

Not as much as he is in canon for sure. I'm thinking Stan's considered a successful kid, went to college, got a booming job in the comic industry, is pretty well known, just. You know. His parents are Filbrick and Caryn Pines, and while Caryn might have been a good mother she wasn't much of a present one, letting Stan run around by himself while she worked. Stan didn't have a twin for comparison, so she never felt the need to be extra attentive here. Stan calls, give Filbrick updates on sales, listens about the pawn shop, sends his parents money to help them out, but they aren't close.

So when Stan looses his memory, then they use his comics to get it back, Stan isn't.. really there? Its mostly Stanley, and he and Ford go to a family reunion and totally shock his parents with his twin brother he had this whole time? Huh? What do you mean he's the only Stan? No he isn't? Fords right here and also his twin brother?

Its one half horror one half comedy as the Pines try to figure out what is happening with Stan and the man with six fingers. Fords real but he still has comic attributes, weird moments where he doesn't mesh with reality and its freaking them out. Meanwhile Stan's in a psychological horror of double memory time, where his Stan and Stanley halves come into conflict at his two very different childhoods.

I think they have to sit down and admit that the world almost ended, and that Fords a comic character come to life, and Stan's technically sort of two people merged into one being, currently having a panic attack because one of his childhoods was so lonely, but which one was it? Who is he? Did he ever have parents actually? Who are you people!

Very strange day at the Pines to learn the multiverse is real and their son/brother was the god of one (and still is? Stan can rewrite reality apparently?) that merged with their own and now his imaginary friend is real and also their son, sorta. Fords very happy to meet the parents he never had, as Stan never drew them and so they didn't exist as anything other than concepts. Lets go bond by fighting a giant crab under the board walk :) Punch some faceless goons :) It'll be fun, just let him help Stan remember he's two people who are now one and they can head on out :)

Not sure how Filbrick would react. I think he'd just ignore Fords existence as much as possible, while Caryn tries to awkwardly mother him? As her newest son? Her comic hero son? He's a grown man but sometimes acts like a kid, because he skipped puberty.

Shermie has two brothers now? Fun time to bond with your family.

[labyrinthinesyndicatex]

She could feel herself melting at his honesty about being crazy, about falling right here between risotto and dessert threats. When had anyone ever admitted they were falling for her while actively warning her about tiramisu theft? This was supposed to be reconnaissance - figure out Demir's weaknesses, use them against Izel later. Simple revenge for what the Solis family did to her father. But listening to him talk about wanting her full story, all the complicated parts most people couldn't handle, made her forget why she'd called him in the first place. The plate exchange should have been awkward, but instead it felt intimate in a way that caught her completely off guard. Like some kind of treaty between two people who'd stopped pretending to be anything other than exactly who they were. Her father had been like this too - direct about what he wanted, never trying to pretty things up or make himself seem safer than he was. The parallel should have made her more focused on revenge, not less. Demir was looking at her while he ate, still maintaining that eye contact that made her feel exposed and interesting at the same time. Nobody had ever called her intense and complicated like they were good things. Most guys heard about her work and immediately started backing toward the exit. But here was this man asking for more storm, more difficulty, like he'd been waiting his whole life for someone who wouldn't apologize for taking up space.

"You know what's terrifying about what you just said?" she asked, taking a bite of his tagliatelle. The flavors hit perfectly - rich and earthy with just enough bite to make her understand why he'd been protective of it. "Most people want the highlights reel. The version of me that looks good at dinner parties and doesn't keep spreadsheets for fun." She grinned at him, twirling more pasta around her fork. "But you're sitting here asking for the director's cut, deleted scenes and all." His declaration of war over tiramisu made her laugh - that real laugh again, not her polite work chuckle. The negotiation over espresso and shared dessert sounded dangerous, like something that could lead to more than one evening of pretending this was just casual dinner. Which was exactly what she needed to hook him completely, except it didn't feel calculated anymore. It felt like something she actually wanted. "This is incredible," she said, gesturing at his plate with her fork. "And you're definitely getting it back... eventually. Maybe. Depends on how good your espresso negotiation skills turn out to be." She leaned forward slightly, studying his face. "But fair warning - I don't usually share dessert with guys who claim they're falling between the appetizer and main course. That's some serious timeline acceleration, even for someone as crazy as you claim to be." The teasing came naturally, but underneath it was genuine curiosity about whether he meant it or if this was just how he talked to women he wanted to sleep with.

He didn’t take his eyes off her. Not when she smiled. Not when she leaned in. Not when she repeated his thunder line like it had landed somewhere inside her chest and stayed there. He saw it—how she pretended not to let things hit too deep, how she wrapped wit around sharp truths like it would protect her from being seen too clearly. But he saw her. And he liked what he saw. “I’m definitely crazy,” he said, his tone dropping a little, a touch more serious beneath the teasing. “I’ve done some reckless, wild things in my time. But this?” His gaze held hers, steady and direct. “Sitting here, actually trying to be honest with someone who doesn’t flinch when it gets real? That might be the craziest of them all.” He traced the rim of his glass with one finger, thoughtful now. “And you being intense or complicated? That’s the part I want more of. You think people want something easy because they’re not strong enough to handle a woman like you. But I’m not most people, Anais. I don’t need soft edges. I want the full story. All of it.”

A beat passed before his smile returned—sly, just a little cocky again. “So yeah… maybe I am falling a little bit. Right here. Between risotto and the threat of dessert theft.” Demir’s grin curved slow and lazy, like he was savouring the moment as much as the pasta on his plate. The kind of grin that had caused trouble more than once—but this time? It felt different. Earned. Like something between them had already started to shift into deeper territory, and he was just smart enough not to run from it. “You steal my tiramisu,” he murmured, setting his fork down, “and I’ll consider it a declaration of war. Just so we’re clear. You’d better be prepared to negotiate… preferably over espresso and a dangerously shared dessert. Are those terms something you can agree with?”

And with that, Demir picked up his plate of tagliatelle and handed it over to her without missing a beat, trading it for her risotto like it was a signed treaty. Apparently, eye contact while eating was the new thing he’d unlocked, because damn it—he couldn’t look away from her. “This is really good,” he said after finishing a bite, raising a brow her way. “And what’s the verdict with my pasta? Am I getting that plate back, or nah?”