#I HOPE he's changed but it'll take years before it's obvious

[mlarayoukai]

iDubbz: I apologize for my past content, including but not limited to where I encouraged people to use the N-word and other slurs frequently and freely - Charlie (for some reason): You shouldn’t have to apologize for that. In fact apologizing is spitting in the face of your viewers that loved that content and that makes you a bad person. - ???

I talked about it before, but I was in high school when the idubbz slur era was at his peak. He basically gave a pass to edgy high school boys to say the n word freely, I personally saw this. My friend's annoying ass cousins were idubbz fans and started saying the n word every other sentence after the tana mongeau drama happened. I really fucking hated his "all or nothing" idea when it came to slurs. His catch phrase was literally "(n word) faggot" and he said that to people to get a rise out of them on purpose. He did this for years until youtube started demonizing him. His apology was honestly far too late, 5 years too late, he made a whole generation of edgy teenagers who didn't understand nuisance; not that there was nuisance, they were fucking slurs. People with underdeveloped brains aren't really thinking about "he's right, we should remove power from words" they just hear the funny youtuber say hey let's say slurs because it gets snowflakes angry

I think most normal people would go, yeah he shouldn't have done any of that. So when Charlie said he shouldn't have apologized, I lost what little respect I had for him. He seems like a people pleasing fence hopper to me, and I think his opinion was in the minority. Ian wasn't exactly making highbrow art pieces 😭 "spit in the face of fans" when Ian made decent at the time fancy callout videos of YouTubers everyone already hated. He stopped making them years ago, and most of his fans grew out of him. Of course Charlie doesn't care, he's not affected by these slurs. He couldn't even pretend to care and at least lied saying idubbz shouldn't have done that. Anyway I don't know how to end this penguinz0 just makes very low effort and lazy content idc I'm just annoyed that other youtubers keep mentioning him like he's some youtubing god

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 1

A/N: New series alert! This is a time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a reader insert. I've had this one in my head for a while, so I hope you enjoy it! It'll get spicy soon, but this chapter is mostly setup. Hang in there! I think this'll be good! Special thanks to my beta reader, @ccab for helping me with this one, as always.

Warnings: none really. This is mostly fluffy setup! Oh yeah, there's an erection lol

Word count: ~2.7k

You've been an Elvis fan for your entire life. Your grandmother was a big fan and it's something the two of you shared while she was alive. Since she passed, you've become even more obsessed, traveling to Graceland and anywhere Elvis performed whenever you have a chance. It's weird, but you have this strange feeling like there's something that ties you to him, despite the fact that he died 10 years before you were born. You don't really tell people this, but everyone who knows you knows how much you love him. Your roommate is consistently amazed at the lengths you'll go to in order to experience something related to him.

"You're really going to miss class for half a week to go to Tupelo?"

"Yes. I don't know why, but I need to be there at the same time he was."

"Y/n, it's 2007. He's not going to be there."

"I know that, Katie. I can't explain it. Just mark me present in algebra, please." She shakes her head with her eyebrows raised.

"If you insist."

******

It's 1957 and Elvis has had a small break since his last show, so he spent it at his new home in Memphis. The house is everything he's ever dreamed of for his family, so he's almost reluctant to go back on the road. Still, he's promised to do another show in his hometown after the one last year was so successful. Going back to Tupelo is always a strange experience for him, especially now that his financial situation has changed so much. His memories there are difficult, at best, so it's strange to go back as a famous performer.

He shakes his head to refocus on the conversation he's in about getting things ready to leave. The Colonel is there and he'll need to get in a car with him soon. No time to ponder the philosophy of how much things can change in a few short years.

"My boy, are you ready to leave? We need to make sure we have plenty of time to get there before the show."

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let me grab my suitcase." He picks up the piece of luggage and wraps his mother in a hug. She whispers in his ear.

"Love you, booby. We'll see you soon." He nods and kisses her cheek. Then, he makes his way to the car and slides into the back seat. Next stop: Tupelo.

******

When you get to Tupelo, you head straight to the fairgrounds where Elvis played his show in '57. There's something magical about being there exactly 50 years later. You wander around the site, closing your eyes to imagine what it must have been like to be there to see him. There's a strange pang in your heart like you miss him, even though you've never met him.

******

Elvis is putting on his best show for all the screaming girls in the audience. He's dressed in a gold jacket and black pants and he's not holding back at all in his performance. He sings, he dances, he wiggles, and the girls go wild.

Something about the energy of the crowd and the feeling of being on stage has him excited. He does his best to hide it during the performance and is pretty sure he manages to keep anyone from noticing. But as soon as the show is over, he knows he's going to need to find somewhere private to either take care of himself or at least adjust his pants so that it's less obvious. He runs down the steps of the stage and heads behind it to try to find some kind of place to do what he needs to do.

As he's walking around quickly, he gets the strangest feeling in his stomach and then runs smack into a girl.

******

You're wandering around where the stage would've been when you run into him. The shock of meeting another person here at the fairgrounds after dark is nothing compared to what you feel when you look up at him as he grabs your upper arms to steady you.

"Honey, be careful. I'm on a mission here."

"Holy shit. You're..."

"Yes. Now I have to..." He looks you up and down and realizes the strange outfit you're wearing. Then he looks up and realizes the stage has disappeared. He looks around frantically, forgetting that he needs to posture himself to hide his erection.

"You're... how? Oh God." You can't believe what's happening. You're pretty sure you must have fallen asleep somewhere. You pinch your arm, just to be sure. But no, this is Elvis Presley. And he has a massive erection.

"What the hell is going on here, honey?" He looks into your eyes fearfully.

"I don't know. Are you really... you?"

"I'm Elvis Presley, if that's what you're asking. Where are we?"

"We're in Tupelo. At the fairgrounds."

"No, that's where I just was." He looks around again and you look down, blushing.

"Are you... are you okay?" You ask sheepishly. He gasps and turns away from you to rearrange himself. When he turns back around, he grabs you by your upper arms and looks into your eyes again.

"What is happening?" Just then, the security guard calls to you from across the grounds.

"Hey! You can't be here!"

"Oh, shit, we need to go. Come with me." You grab his hand and pull him toward the exit. He follows along reluctantly.

"I'm sorry; I know this is weird, but we need to go." You break into a jog and he jogs along with you, still holding your hand. When you finally make it back out to your car in the parking lot, you stop and catch your breath.

"Okay, honey, what the hell is going on?"

"I need you to not freak out when I tell you this." He shrugs.

"I can't make any promises."

"You, well, you travelled through... through time."

"I don't understand."

"Elvis, it's 2007. You've travelled 50 years into the future."

His face goes white and you're afraid he's about to pass out, so you quickly open the car door and let him fall into your front seat.

"The future?"

"Yes."

"2007?!"

"Yes."

"That's why you're dressed so strangely. And why this car is... different..." He looks around your car incredulously. You nod.

"Is this a thing people do in the future? Travel through time?!"

"Oh absolutely not. I don't know how this happened. Also my outfit is not strange. Your outfit is strange." He smiles a little and then leans back against the seat, wiping his forehead with his hand. You walk around the car and slide into the driver's seat. He turns and looks at you.

"Well, I guess I'm stuck here. Where are we going?"

"You're really Elvis Presley?"

"I'm pretty sure." You shake your head, trying not to cry, but the tears start to stream down your face. "Aw, honey, don't cry. Why are you crying?"

"I can't believe it's you. I've loved you forever."

"How do you know who I am?" You open your mouth to answer and then close it quickly. You'll have to be careful with what you say, so you don't tell him too much about his future. Assuming you'll be able to get him back where he came from.

"My grandma was a big fan of your music in the '50s."

"Oh. Your grandma?! I'm sorry. I keep forgetting what year you said it is."

"It's 2007. Exactly 50 years from where you were."

"50 years. Wow. So I'm 72?! Wherever I am." You swallow hard. You can't tell him. You decide to change the subject.

"I need to go home. I guess you'll have to come with me. Unless you object?"

"Where else am I going to go?"

"That's a good point. Back to campus we go."

"Campus?"

"Yeah, I'm in college. You're gonna have to stay at my dorm. I hope that's not too weird." He looks at you with an incredulous smile.

"Everything about this is weird."

"That's valid." You both laugh as you start the car and drive away.

******

When you pull into a parking space on campus, it's close to 1am. He yawns. You forget how tired he must be. You've actually been able to talk quite a bit on the drive and you're surprised at how easy he is to talk to.

"Are we going to have to sneak?" He looks at you curiously.

"Well, no. This is a coed dorm. No one cares."

"A coed dorm?! What has the future come to?"

"Oh, honey, you have no idea." You make your way to the elevator and ride up to your floor. When you get to your door, you realize you're going to have to come up with a story for your roommate.

"Okay. You're an ETA. Follow my lead."

"I'm sorry. A what?"

"Elvis tribute artist. Impersonator. Basically you're a guy that likes to dress up as you." He laughs.

"That exists?"

"Ha. Yeah. Try not to ask too many questions." You put your key in the door and open it carefully. Hopefully, Katie is already in bed and you won't have to have this conversation.

But she's not.

"And just what kind of hour do you call- oh. Hello." She stops her sarcastic greeting when she realizes you're not alone.

"Katie, this is... John. John, this is Katie, my roommate."

"Nice to meet you, Katie." He extends his hand and she takes it slowly. She turns to you.

"I didn't expect you to pick up a stray in Tupelo."

"Yeah, well, look at him. How could I say no?" Her eyes wander back to Elvis and she shrugs.

"I can't say that I blame you. Okay, well, you two don't have too much fun. I'm going to bed now that I know you're home safely." She turns and heads into her bedroom. Thankfully, you live in a suite style dorm, so you each have your own room. You gesture for him to follow you and head into your room.

"You're going to have to stay in here with me. If you sleep on the couch, it'll be too weird. I'm sorry."

"Does she think...? Is this something you do a lot?" He looks at you with a glint in his eye.

"I mean, not a lot. No. Honestly, like never." You feel yourself blush and you look at your feet. He puts his hand under your chin and tips your face up to look at him.

"It's okay. I'm learning quickly that the future is different. I don't mind staying in here with you." Your stomach flip flops when he touches you and you're overwhelmed with a need for him to kiss you. He seems to feel something too because he turns from you and clears his throat.

You go to your drawers and dig for something he can wear. Luckily, you wear a lot of men's sweatpants and oversized t-shirts to sleep, so you get an outfit together for him and show him the bathroom to change. When he comes back out, you laugh. He seems so out of place dressed so casually. You change into pajamas and wash your face, coming back out to find him settled into half of your double bed. You crawl into the bed next to him and he turns over on his side facing you.

"Thank you for taking care of me. You didn't have to do that. You don't know me from Adam."

"Well, I somehow feel like this is my fault. I'm not sure how, but I feel responsible. And I do know you, kind of. Thank you for trusting me to take care of you." He smiles.

"I didn't have much choice. But it's strange. I feel like I know you, somehow. Like we met once and forgot about it. But I know that's not possible. Either way. I'm glad to be here with you." The feeling that you want him to kiss you is back. But he doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes and is asleep pretty quickly. You roll over and try to go to sleep too, ignoring the racing thoughts in your head.

You really have Elvis Presley in your bed.

******

When you wake up, you're tucked up under his chin with his arm around you. You're not sure how you got this snuggled up, but it feels nice and for a second you forget who he is. He stirs about the same time you do and stretches, wrapping his arms around you tighter. When you realize the situation, you sit up.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, honey, it was nice." He yawns and pulls you back down to him. You relax against his chest and he kisses the top of your head.

"You don't even know me." You whisper.

"Yes, I do. And I like you. Is that okay?" You nod and wrap your arms around him.

"What are we doing today?" He seems to be taking being stuck in 2007 in stride. What you don't know is that he's actually really grateful for the break from his performance schedule. And he can't explain it, but he knows you somehow. Or at least, that's how it feels.

"Oh, well, I already missed my 9am class, so I guess we will hang out around town. We need to go to the mall and get you some clothes. You can't be wandering around in that ridiculous gold jacket." He laughs.

"What do guys wear these days?" You think about the skinny jeans and band tees and you're not sure what to tell him. This might be harder than you thought.

******

At the mall, you take him to a store that sells guy's clothes and watch him as he marvels at the modern styles. He's immediately drawn to the studded belts and you laugh, thinking of the studded jumpsuits he'll wear in the '70s. You find some jeans that aren't too skinny and he stands looking at the wall of band t-shirts.

"All of these are rock'n'roll groups?!"

"Well, we don't call it that anymore, but pretty much."

"Which ones do you like?" You point to a few of them and tell him about the music you listen to that isn't his.

"Can we listen to them?"

"Of course! But clothes first." You take him to the fitting rooms and he picks out a few pairs of pants and some button down shirts. You also let him pick out a studded belt and he goes with a pink one with silver studs. When you get to the checkout counter, he's absolutely shocked at how much it costs. You assure him that this is normal and pay for his things. As you walk out, he leans over and whispers.

"If I ever get back to '57, I'll never complain about the cost of things ever again." You laugh and take the hand he offers as you walk through the mall. He's amazed at how many stores there are and all the noise and technology that's around you. He keeps stopping and looking at things, so it takes you a while to make it through. He stops at a calendar kiosk and finds a calendar with photos of himself. You quickly yank it away from him and put it back.

"You can't see that."

"Aw, honey, why not?"

"I can't let you learn anything about your future." He looks at you with concern.

"Is it that bad?"

"Well, not exactly. I just don't want to ruin anything for you. You have to live it."

"If I ever get back."

"You must, or this calendar wouldn't exist. We'll figure something out." He puts his arm around your shoulders as you move on through the mall.

When you get back to the car, you pull a cd from the holder on your car visor and put it in for him to listen to. His eyes widen as the fast-paced drums and guitar chords start.

"Wow."

"This is what you started. You made this happen."

"It's so... it's a lot. But I like it. A lot." He starts moving to the music and you laugh.

"I'd love to see these guys live."

"I have. It's pretty great." He looks at you with envy as you start to sing along to the music. Somewhere inside him, he kind of hopes you won't be able to find a way for him to get back. Everything in this time intrigues him and the thought of leaving you is certainly not appealing, especially once he hears you sing.

Maybe he'll just stay with you forever.

******

Until Chapter 2!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know!

[joyouslee]

某某 novel vs The On1y One drama

This is a little premature considering there are only two episodes of the drama so far, but I finished the novel and wanted to note some of the immediate differences between the two.

The beginning of the novel is primarily from the close third person pov of Sheng Wang (later interspersed with other povs, including Jiang Tian's). It's a fast read and everything feels very immediate and sometimes claustrophobic to me when describing the kind of study-hell of second year high school students in China (equivalent to junior year since Chinese high schools are three years instead of four). Also, since the beginning is primarily from Sheng Wang's pov, it takes much longer before it's apparent to Sheng Wang that Jiang Tian's feelings have changed from enmity to friendship and then crossing the line to more.

The drama, by contrast, has a voice-over narration that makes it appear that the events of the drama are in the past. There's a tinge of nostalgia to it - kind of makes it feel like the Wonder Years (if anyone here is old enough to remember that show TT). Also, the end of each episode features a scene from Jiang Tian's pov, making it pretty obvious how he feels about Sheng Wang from the beginning. The second episode end scene in particular turns an event from Sheng Wang's pov (an event that doesn't happen in the novel) completely on its head. It's a big change from the novel's close focus and it'll be interesting to see how this plays out in the drama.

Spoiler for episode 2 below the read more.

I really didn't like the dared/forced kisses in episode 2 - neither scene is in the novel. What I liked about the novel is the slow development of their relationship from antagonism to friendship to almost siblings to more. Also their first kiss is mutual and very sweet, after they've both made it evident they like each other. Jiang Tian in the novel is cold and prickly (hiding a soft center), not sexually aggressive, so these scenes are way out of character with how he is in the novel (especially with his childhood trauma that is later revealed). I liked that they were both a bit fumbly and inexperienced in the novel, so the episode 2 ending felt like a bad shoe-horning in of the danmei trope of the sexually-aggressive gong. I really hope that's not the characterization they're going with in the drama.

[wehaveimagineshere]

Hello there, Ren! I absolutely fell in love with your Carlos fic, so I'm here to ask for another one! The prompt I was thinking of is Carlos' s/o (gn preferably) comforting him through PTSD symptoms like a recurring nightmare or a flashback (cuz his backstory is insanely traumatic + the whole RC incident is bound to mess someone up). He's such a sweet guy who deserves more love, and I love the way you write him. I'll definitely be back for more from time to time. You both have a nice day!

Hi Anon! Thank you so much! <3 Carlos deserves so much love and I got so excited seeing another request for him! Yes, please, come back as often as those ideas hit! I can't wait to see you again (:

I hope you have a good day too! And a good week, cause you definitely made mine!

~*~*~

People never quite understand how suddenly things can change.

Movies have a build up, an obvious path from "here" to "there." The little easter eggs, the little foreshadowing, the description on the back of the case. But real life is never so simple.

A five year old could never understand why his mother pulls him from his bed in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face. Her hushed but frantic whispering that everything would be alright as the door smashes open and hands drag both of them out into the living room.

The men, unfamiliar and smelling of sweat and blood, are just hazy silhouettes in his memories now, in his dreams. Silver moonlight glinting off their guns, mechanisms he'd glimpsed once in his older brother's hands but not knowing the name for at the time, pierce through the dark as more figures drag out the rest of his family.

As they drag out his older brother, who won't go down without a fight.

His dreams can never decide exactly how long that fight lasts. Seconds or minutes, all he knows is the blur of fists, the laughing and tauntings of the strange men, the screaming and pleading of his mother, and that one gunshot.

The gunshot that silences his mother as she wraps her body around his, as if she can hide him from the present, from the pain and confusion it'll bring. She can't cover his ears, though, as the wet thud of his lifeless brother hits the floor.

As the man with the gun aims it at his mother, quiet, dark words spitting from his mouth before he leaves, taking his gang with him.

His mother rocks, his small frame rocking with her, as she sobs into his torn and dirty shirt. As she mutters that signature "It's okay, we'll be okay," her fingers threading through his hair in an attempt to soothe.

A five year old child cannot comprehend death, killing, so he doesn't know to not look. To not peek through the curtain of his mother's hair to the heap on the floor. He doesn't understand why his brother doesn't move, why he--

But he does. It starts with a twitch of the fingers, then a spasm in the arms. Bracing his arms underneath him, his brother jerkily lifts himself up, saliva and blood dripping from his lips. And when he looks up...

It's the eyes of the dead. Milky white, skin ashen and sickly. He knows, then. Some deep, primal part of him knows that he's staring at his reaper, that his mother has no idea their deaths will come in the form of her own son, brought back by the devil himself.

His brother lunges, and he can do nothing as his mother screams, ripped away from him as blood spurts and bodies writhe as she tries to get away, as his brother clamps on with inhuman strength, teeth deep in her throat--

Carlos jerks away, air sawing into his lungs as his eyes dart about. Muscles tight, unsure if he should move or stay, he swings his head--

"Hey," comes a soft whisper. "You're alright, Carlos. You're okay."

"It'll be alright, little Carlos, we'll be okay."

Moving to stand but finding them bound, his shaking hands start yanking at the bindings.

"Carlos. Sweetie. You're in bed. You got tangled up in the blankets. You're okay. You're safe."

"Sweet little Carlos, mommy will protect you, it'll be okay."

The ripping of fabric finally makes him pause, heart slamming against his ribcage.

"Carlos. It was a dream. Just a dream. We're in bed, the doors are locked, it's just you and me."

Curling in on himself, he tries to focus on his breathing, to try not to hyperventilate.

You help walk him through it.

"Deep inhale through your nose, honey. Count to five. One. Two. Three. Four. Release. There you go. One more time. One. Two."

He follows your instructions the best he's able, clinging to the soothing sound of your voice, clinging to each count and exhale, and slowly, oh so slowly, the death grip on the ripped comforter relaxes.

"There you go. I have some water. Do you want some?"

It takes him a few seconds to nod.

"Alright. It's a glass. It's a little cool to the touch."

Shifting so he's facing you, the glass in your hand outstretched, he takes it and swallows deeply, not realizing how hot he is until the cold water slides down his chest, shocking his senses.

He puts the cool glass up against his sweat slicked forehead.

"It should be about three in the morning right now," you continue, feet tucked underneath you. "I turned on the light in the hallway and drew the right side of our curtains. I also got some towels."

Setting down the glass on his bedside table, he turns back to a hand towel laid neatly in front of your knees. Absently he reaches for it, dragging it across his brow.

"I can wet one or two if you need. Just let me know."

Exhaling, he finally attempts his voice. "I'm alright."

Deep, gravelly, haunted. He barely even recognizes it.

"I know, it's okay."

Lowering the towel, he holds out a hand, one you gingerly take. Tugging you close, he rests his forehead against the crook of your neck and inhales, the familiar, soothing scent of you wrapping around his heart.

"May I run my fingers through your hair?"

He nods. "I'm alright," he says again against your skin, the words a little more stable.

"Okay." You start at the base of his neck and run up, catching the small knots in his hair and gently working them out, nails softly scratching his scalp.

He practically melts, an arm snaking around your waist to draw you onto his lap. Wrapping your free hand around him, you rest your head against his as you keep threading your fingers through his hair, not caring how drenched in sweat he is.

Sweat can be washed off.

"When I say I'm the reason you never get any sleep," you hear him say, "I don't mean like this."

You huff a chuckle. "Nobody needs to know that. It'll remain our little secret."

There's an uncertain pause. "Thank you."

"Carlos. I told you I'd always be here for you, and I meant it." You kiss his temple. "I always mean it."

"I know. I just..." He squeezes you tight for just a moment.

You squeeze back. "We've all got our monsters under the bed. Some are just bigger than others. And thankfully, we share a bed now."

His lips brush your shoulder as he smiles. Lifting his head to place a kiss on your forehead, he moves down to your cheek, then captures your mouth.

It's soft and sweet, the kiss, the thank you that Carlos could never fully put into words. He pulls away for just a moment, to look into the eyes that have saved him time and time again, before drawing you in once more.

You place a hand against his cheek as he pulls away again, a palm he nuzzles into. The smile that blooms across your lips squeezes his heart, once again reminded of how lucky he is to hold you, kiss you, call you his.

"Think you'll be able to sleep?" you ask, the movement of your lips distracting.

"Not for a while," he replies.

"Well, we have more of that show we were watching."

He dips to your lips again and murmurs against them, "We're already in bed."

Your mouth quirk and you pull back to give him a look. "At the very least, you need to wipe all this sweat off."

The sly smirk that finds its way onto his lips feels right, a little more himself. "Just so you can get me all sweaty again?"

"So I know you're sweaty because of me," you respond without a beat, a playful grin brightening your face as you reach for a towel and smoosh his face in it.

"A cruel Majesty you are," comes the faux hurt muffled reply.

You kiss what you can only guess is his nose through the towel. "You love me though."

"I do."

Releasing the towel, your smile softens as you see the look on his face. The openness only you're allowed to witness. "Love you too, big guy."

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Well, it's 100% official! I'm detransitioning! Just got the email from my college insurance provider. The first two years I was here they actually upped my estrogen to 8mg a day and gave me an aphrodisiac to keep my libido up, so I can stay super feminine and have the sex drive of a lot of cis girls at my sorority. My college offered to give me implants, encouraging me to go bigger than this, but I declined.... My poor cock shrunk to a couple inches. I was so happy with my results. I mean, it was pretty normal for me, I've been socially transitioning since I was a kid, went on blockers, all that. So I never really got to experience being a boy. Guess I have no choice now!

It's not uncommon for these community college insurance plans to change medication. My last roommate was put on Femruptarin.... I'll leave you to guess why she's not my current roommate! lol I got up a few days ago to fill my script, they said it was denied. I read my insurance update and it said I'm due for a doctor's visit. I needed approval for a new script. Like..... oh boy, I know where this is headed! Went to the doctor and got a new guy, he called me by male pronouns to his nurse, who giggled every time. He said my body desperately needs testosterone, and it's 'embarrassing' what my parents did to me. He said I need to join the frat house and clear up this mistake immediately that I was allowed to enroll as a girl. He told me I need to go on a high dose of T, steroids, AND dick growth pills, and to start hitting the gym so I can shed my ridiculous-looking, girly body. He gave me the usual spiel you hear trans girls say on TikTok, that I'm not a girl and I need to embrace being a guy. That I don't pass as a girl at all and it was very obvious I was male.....

I looked up the drugs he put me on and it's such a high dose of T and steroids it would turn anyone into a sex-crazed lunatic. At least I know what I'm getting myself into, I guess. Every TikTok I looked up about this stuff was some super gorgeous trans girl turning into a pea-brained muscled-up jock. Sitting around jerking off to porn all day, unable to say anything to girls except extremely inappropriate, perverted stuff. Looks like my poor girly brain will be warped into a guy that only thinks with his cock, unable to think or have any interests outside of fucking pretty college girls with big bellies full of kids and huge milky tits. I dunno, sounds kind of fun. I've been a girl since forever so this might be fun! Plus, it'll be nice to not be on the receiving end of getting my brains fucked out for once. I swear I can barely sit down some days in class these dudes fuck me so hard.....

So, wanna watch me shoot up my first T shot? I know you do. This is soooo exciting. I can't believe I'm actually getting detransed like all those girls you see online in those super hot before and afters! Well, maybe I was kind of hoping I'd get detransed, just a bit. Just hearing that doctor call me a confused boy with plastic-stuffed pecks was one of the biggest turn ons of my life. I just nodded and agreed with everything he said, blushing as he and the nurse made fun of me for pretending to be a girl. I've learned my lesson, I can't wait to savor this wonderful shot of T, then maybe hit the gym. I've got a lot of dumb, girly curves to burn off and lots of muscle to put on! Oooo, and guess what? My implants are getting removed this weekend. No more boobies, oh well! Not that I ever passed all that well, as the doctor the doctor reminded me! I'm just a delusional boy with implants stuffed in my pecks, not a girl in the slightest.... God, why does saying that make my cock so hard? Guess it proves his point. Mmmmm! Well, sit back and watch me as I shoot this T into my chubby, girly thigh..... In a few months nobody will ever know I lived as a girl for over a decade..... I bet no one will even believe me after I start taking all this stuff and bulking up. The fifteen inch cock will certainly help. ❤️"

[legoiscrying]

Since you guys liked my first k2 analysis so much, I've decided to make a second one and mainly focus on things that I mentioned in the last paragraph there: how I see their romantic relationship. This is probably going to be more headcanons than analysis but we'll see lol (it ended up not)

As I mentioned before, I don't really see k2 having some sort of special feelings for each other when they're young. Meanwhile it can kinda work with Kenny, it's probably won't work with Kyle: Kyle already has two strong sources of emotions. His bond with Stan and his sort of rivalry with Cartman clearly means more to him. And to get myself more clear: No, I do not erase everything I said in the previous post about their interactions, they're still very sweet and in my personal opinion important. But if we analyse Kyle's relationships with others and give everyone some sort of a status, Stan would be "best friend", Cartman would be "frienemy" (it's not so obvious when I say it like this but we all should agree that Kyle cares a lot about the shit Cartman says, not necessarily in a good way but it's still a huge source of emotions for him). And Kenny, as I believe, would be just "friend". Not much to add.

But if we're looking a little bit further...Time skip for a few years. Or not a few. High-school maybe?? Or adults?? Whatever you prefer more

From this part it'll be mostly headcanons because different people can see the future relationship of the main four differently. I'll talk about my personal point of view here (I think it's the most popular one in the fandom anyways)

So this is where Kyle's previous sources of strong emotions are kind of fading away. With Stan...I'm almost sure that no one is going to argue with me for this. Stan, as a depressed individual, would probably at some point of his adulthood change his relationships with people. He'd cut contact with some and just sort of change his attitude to other. And although I believe Stan and Kyle would still be friends (close friends??) when they grow up...There's not going to be the "bond" as strong as it was before. This is debatable, but even if you don't agree with my statement: One source of strong emotions is definitely not enough.

With Cartman my point of view is much easier to explain: they're not kids anymore. I believe their rivalry won't dissappear, but. They're not kids and not gonna fight 24/7. I'm not sure if I'm explaining this properly, but I think it's just not gonna take all their time. So yeah. It's not enough

AND THAT'S WHERE WE FINALLY GO BACK TO K2. THANK GOD.

Kyle feels a bit more lonely. So he hangs out with Kenny, who pretty much feels the same. They spend time together, talk a lot, remember some things...And realize how similar they are to each other (this part is also analysis btw, I didn't come up with it from nothing). They realize that back then they both were trying to act kind to people around them, but no one seemed to appreciate it as much as they wanted. They were doing it differently and was getting treated differently, but in the end both ended up being lonely without much people around. You. You can feel my thought here. right

They realize how similar they feel, so they decide to try to help each other. Just make some company. It won't hurt, right?

It didn't. I see them a bit fast burn... They start to appreciate each other's company more. And more. They hang out in a lot of different places. Anywhere you can get your old buddy: like seeing some cool movies with him, taking him to restaurants so you can make sure he eats well, sometimes going to his ol' house with him to help his sister...At some point Kenny starts calling it "dates", and Kyle is extremely flustered about this.

Kyle falls first, but Kenny confesses first: so their relationship-thing happens not so long after that.

And yep. This is what I wanted to share from now. I really hope someone reads all that xD

Love k2, appreciate k2, enjoy k2, share k2. They're very lovable little guys!

(If this gets 100 likes AGAIN I will write k2 headcanons. Go)

[variousqueerthings]

TOP THINGS I'M EXCITED FOR IN THE NEW RTD RUN

getting the obvious out of the way, ncuti gatwa

but more specifically, ncuti gatwa is going in with such an exciting awareness of what he got out of doctor who and how that will inform his take

and both he and millie gibson are firmly taking doctor who into the next generation. I don't know a lot about her (and youknow, I'm getting older, so she seems awfully young, but that's really all I know and isn't enough to form an opinion on -- but susan vibes? hoping she won't be a rose!repeat, but I really really don't think that's the intention here), but gatwa is also next!gen whovian (like me), which is very fun. it's a nerdy show, I like it when nerds are involved

the wardrobe is looking so goooood. three also had quite an extensive repertoire especially, and this feels quite closely aligned with that campness (not specifically the exact style ofc, new doctor, but Vibes)

the other obvious out of the way, dtennant and catherine tate

specifically that there's a lot of potential in the 60th anniversary to properly wrap up ten's and donna's arcs in a way that organically interacts with the previous ending they had. some really fun potential to play with theme and genre in that, I'm a sucker for recontextualisation, and for dtennant having a bad time (but then maybe at the end... an okay time?)

I hope this will also more effectively merge the rtd run with moffat's and chibnall's. they did do a bit more of that as they went along, but I think they both went too hard on the reset button (especially moffat). we did then get some more... what I'll call continuity, but it took a bit (look, I know, the continuity is madness on this show, but I like to know it's the same story at least, and not totally excise what came before)

also donna has a kid now, played by yasmin finney. I'm excited for all of that, the fact that she's called rose, casting yasmin finney, another form of bringing it into the present, rather than it being all about the past, the fact that she's teased in the trailer, but there's so much more to see

speaking of casting -- camp and queerness! so many of the casting announcements have been queer actors, and you know rtd loves queering shit up, and he's got soooo much more freedom to do so now than he did in 2005. It won't just be in the casting, it'll be in the stories and the character-writing

references to classic!who and other dw!materials, as always, and of course rtd loves that. I just like how much of nu!who is having fun with classic!who. and updating it of course

I said it before but. I like watching dtennant be upset. he does it very well. perhaps even tears who knows...

EDIT: CONSIDERING THE NEW THEME SONG REVEAL ALSO FORGOT TO SAY MURRAY GOLD'S MUSIC!!!

some things I'm hoping for:

that the continuity of the last series won't be severed, especially in regards to the various regenerations that have been since ten

similarly that ten's arc interacts both with how they died/what happened with donna, and that they've been other bodies since then and so there has been growth and change, but what does that mean to a multi-lifed being?

that ruby and the doctor won't have a romantic will-they-won't-they and that generally the doctor continues to be a character through which those sorts of things can be interrogated (perhaps more deliberately now than in the past....)

that there will be some more ideas about gender, as has been increasingly played with over the last few years

that ncuti gatwa being black influences the kinds of stories being told in regards to what kind of history and future is important

that rose's part in the specials is important (I mean, even the fact that she's donna's kid is already important, but on her own as well -- that she gets something cool to do)!

that UNIT won't be toooo involved. I'm currently watching three from the start and I remember that UNIT does a lot in that one, and that's fine, I get that there's precedent. but also they're not my favourite part of DW, generally the doctor being associated with Institutions of a military nature. makes sense for three, who's relatively trapped on earth, and I like the way it's one of humanity's ways of reacting to alien life both in classic and nu!who, but never trust military. anyway, UNIT's fine for the specials, also ties in previous seasons with kate, but hoping won't be so much in ncuti gatwa's arcs. or that there's more conflict involved with them being involved

that new writers are brought onboard, especially women, black writers, and millennials

that it'll still be sincere. that it won't suffer from irony poisoning and over-reliance on references (don't think the latter is so much the issue), and that the bigger budget won't erode its ability to tell deeply personal intimate person stories, which has been an issue over the last few years and could be a problem in future. this isn't the show of massive explosions and michael by action, it's the show or a bunch of nerds who want to see practical effect aliens and cry about them

[marshallpupfan]

More Movie Thoughts Again...

It's been a few months since The Mighty Movie released to theaters. Currently, we know a third movie is on its way, and it's due to release in 2026. What we don't know, however, is... well, anything else about it. We still don't even know yet which pup it'll focus on, or if it even will at all. We know the year, just nothing else.

If the story does focus on a single pup again, much like The Movie and The Mighty Movie before it, then the question is... which one will they go with? If you ask the fans, the answer seems to be quite obvious. Just take a look at the above poll from the PAW Patrol Wiki.

And even this poll on Reddit, too. Rocky's the most popular on the PAW Patrol subreddit, yet Marshall still won by over twice the votes. It seems fans really, really want to see the spotted pup in the spotlight this time around... which may even lead to him finally getting some sort of backstory. Of course, what we want isn't always what we get, but it's possible the folks at Spin Master, Brunker, or whoever with influence might be aware of this.

As many of you know, despite my mixed feelings about the theatrical films, I am rooting for Marshall to helm the third movie. After season 7 and 9 of the TV series were so bad to him (season 8 wasn't exactly great to him at times, either), I really want to see something propel him back into the spotlight. Becoming the star of the next theatrical film will undoubtedly accomplish this, as even Skye has seen an increase of attention since The Mighty Movie hit theaters. Assuming the third movie is about him and it turns out good, I've no doubt the same will happen to Marshall, too. And, if we're lucky, the TV series will finally go back to using him more again, instead of calling someone with her helicopter to save a kid from a tree as her harness cable magically passes through a bunch of branches to do this, instead of calling the firefighter pup with his ladder like they should've.

However, I have some reservations here. I've talked in the past about how I feel the theatrical films haven't handled Marshall all that well, my "caused vs. because" argument with the way they portrayed his clumsiness, and the fact that he's rarely involved in comedic moments because of Brunker's obvious preference for Rubble. Even if Marshall's the focus on the plot, I don't know if these things will be any different.

This is just a theory, so it may be far from the truth, but... I have a bad feeling that Brunker may not like or care about Marshall. I hope I'm wrong, but due to the way he's portrayed in these theatrical films, the fact both movies continuously refuse to give him his elevator wipeout running gag, among other reasons, I just can't shake this belief. And the thing is, I've noticed over the years that when a writer doesn't like or care about a character, they often try to change them... drastically, at times. It's not uncommon at all, really. And if any of this is true, then I fear what this means when/if Brunker tries to write an entire film around the pup. It's possible he may act completely different, or portray his clumsiness as the result of some devastating event in his past. Marshall's a silly pup who always means well but sometimes trips over his own paws, but Brunker might try to change the meaning behind that. And should the film become popular and these newfound characteristics spill over into the TV series, well... I honestly dread the thought.

Then again, this might happen anyway, no matter who the focus is. You see, a few months ago, I was chatting with someone on the PAW Patrol Wiki who said their favorite pup is Skye. When The Mighty Movie got brought up, they admitted to me how they felt Skye was really out of character during it... not to mention, they were also quite disappointed to see the film ditch her unique Mighty tornado & wings, in favor of a cape and simply turning her into a Superman clone. The thing is, if Marshall, Rocky, Zuma, or whoever turns out to be the focus next, will the same happen to them, regardless of how Brunker feels about these characters? Did he dislike Skye, or did he just write her in a way he believed was good? Is that Skye fan in the minority? Am *I* in the minority with any of this?

...I don't know. Do you? Does anyone know?

As usual, all I can do is wait and hope for the best. Should Marshall be the focus, I really, really, really, hope that Brunker takes his time with understanding the character, learns the way he acts and behaves, and comes up with something that's both good and not out of character. I also hope that, should we get a backstory for Marshall, it's not another "and then they almost died" plot, just like Skye, Chase, and even Surly's backstory from Brunker's The Nut Job 2. I want Marshall's history to stand out and truly be something good, not just... more of the same we've already seen. And if Brunker does insist on changing the character, I hope it's nothing extreme. In all fairness, change isn't always a bad thing, when its done right.

As I often say... only time will tell.

[jj-5656]

Hi love, I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if you’d be open to writing a Tangerine fic where he finds out the reader has a crush on him by the way she reacts to his words/pet names & he decides to tell her he feels the same?😭

A/N: OKOKOK I love what you've done here. I was at work when I read this and it sparked an entire idea. I'm thinking this'll be a blurb, though knowing me it'll be an entire story. (Update; did in fact become an entire story.) I did stray a bit from what you asked and I hope that’s alright. Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of violence, sexual harassment

Summary: Boxer! Tangerine seems to sense his effect on you, and has become increasingly impatient with the gym's creepy regular. (Character are in their 20s btw)

You're re-racking weights when the unwarranted approach occurs.

Spending the summer months working at your Uncle's boxing gym has been a sort of tradition. You practically grew up here. Relishing in the three months spent at his and your Aunt's brownstone since you were in highschool. As the final year of college approaches, the familiar smell of sweat and sound of victimized punching bags was honestly welcoming.

"Need a little help with those, hun?" You tense at the unsurprisingly patronizing tone, facing the stranger who pretends to have not been caught checking you out with a wry smile.

"I've got it. Thanks." You offer your most forced customer service voice, eyes scanning the room for a female comrade or coworker. Unfortunately, the lot of your customers are mid-set, headphones in.

"Awe c'mon." Despite your frame's obvious tensing, the man reaches across and takes the dumbell from your grasp. "They're making you do all the heavy lifting 'round here?"

"Hardly that strenuous." You can't even try to conceal your disdain, though he laughs as if the irritated furrowing of your brows is in jest.

"Didn't know they had such good looking staff round here. I usually go to Golds, but this just might be my new spot." You try not to audibly cringe at the confession. Any half-wit could have guessed this piece of shit regulared Golds.

"Right. I should get back to it, then." You're halfway through turning away to head across the building to find another task when he takes hold of your forearm. Instantly, you're facing him with a deadly expression. Sparing any and all commonalities as you rip your arm from his grasp.

"Easy there." He chuckles as if you're vehemently overreacting in response to a complete fucking stranger touching you. "Maybe I could grab your number? Get a friendly discount on a new membership?"

"They'd be more than happy to help you with that at the front desk."

"For personal reasons, then?" You take a step back when he leans closer, as if the presumptuous prospect is anything less than appalling. Small gasp escaping your lips when your back makes contact with something solid.

"Oi, sorry for the sneak up." You don't even have to turn around before you recognize the voice. The boxer your Uncle introduced you to last summer. A regular at the gym, with an esteemed reputation for winning. You've talked maybe a handful of times, though you've fawned over him with just about half of your coworkers.

Tangerine's at least head taller than you, taking a step back to give you more space. Giving the man behind you a curt head nod before looking to you again, smiling as if he's known you the better half of his life.

"Hate to bother you, love. Locker won't open again, if you can believe it. Bloody thing's been a right pain for the longest time." You catch on immediately, eyes offering a silent load of gratitude as you nod.

"Right. I've been meaning to change it for you." You face the shorter man adorning a buzz cut and obnoxiously small cut-off tee with a tight-lipped smile. "Duty calls. See you around-"

"Mike." He answers, though you hadn't asked. "You'll see me soon."

"Looking forward to it, mate." Tangerine sounds less than pleased, staring the man down with unbridled disgust before side-stepping and allowing you to pass. The pair of you headed toward the lockers on the far side of the gym.

"Jesus Christ, sorry about that." You run a hand down your face, missing his displeased expression.

"What are you sorry for? Could sense the twat a mile away." You can't help but laugh, eyes meeting his for only a moment before you're turning your attention elsewhere.

"Seriously though. Thank you." The pair of you stopping when you're far enough to be out of the asshole's eye-shot.

"Don't mention it, love. Honestly." He shrugs, head cocking when you tense at something he's said. Though you don't seem uncomfortable. "It's y/n, isn't it?" You nod, feeling like a elementary schooler when your skin heats at his recognition.

"Yes. Yeah. And it's Tangerine, right?" Hopeful to come off inconspicuous. He nods too, ghost of a smile crossing his face again.

"Right. You must be one of the only people I've met where the 'like the fruit' question didn't immediately follow my introduction." This has you laughing again, and Tangerine decides just then he's quite fond of the small triumph.

"But it is..." You can barely conceal the smirk as you tease. "Like the fruit, isn't it?"

He rolls his eyes, surprising even himself with how much he's entertained by the jest in your tone. "Hilarious, darling. I can see why they keep you around." He senses it again, the succinct tightening in your frame at something he's said. Though you collect yourself as soon as it starts. "I'll see you round, then?"

"I'll be here." You cringe at the corny reply, though the brunette seems to be preoccupied in thought to notice.

"Y/n." It grabs your full attention immediately. Spinning on your heel to face him again. "If he bothers you again..." He trails off to gauge your reaction. "Or any bloke, for that matter. You just come get me, yeah? I'm here more often than not, and it'd never be a bother." Too forward, he thinks. Just as assuming as any creepy twat in this place.

Though you're smiling. Soft and genuinely pleased with the gesture.

"I will, thank you."

***

You're acquaintances from then on. Friends, even. Tan insists on walking you to your car the nights you close up. Greets you each morning despite his grumpy exterior.

The small gestures have granted a practical scandal between your coworkers. Teasing after he exits a room and crowding around to scrounge any and all details of your interactions. You brush them off, optimism is too much an ego killer and distraction for you to allow.

You're re-racking weights when the much-wanted approach occurs.

"Have you ever sparred before?" You hadn't been expecting it, muffling a squeal when your startled form warrants the weight pinching the skin of your forefinger. You grasp it instantly, offering a sweet smile despite the oncoming pain.

"Alright?" He reaches toward you, halting instantly when you shrink.

"Fine. Totally fine." Despite having totally embarrassed yourself.

"I'm sure that hurt, darling." He feigns amusement, despite concern overcoming him. Jesse passes, a particularly obvious shit-eating grin across her face as she mouths 'darling' in your peripheral. Your skin flushes tenfold.

He insists, taking gentle hold of your wrist and inspecting the injury in a horrifying display of softness. It must surprise even him, as he lets go as soon as he's sure no skin has been broken.

"You were saying something." It's a feeble attempt to redirect this humiliating encounter.

"Yes, right." He straightens, gathering his usual brooding demeanor. "Have you ever sparred before?"

You scoff at the prospect, not unkind. "My Uncle's ensured I'm familiar with the basics, sort of unavoidable all these years. Though I haven't really done any more than that."

"We could." He fumbles, suddenly unsure. "I mean, I could show you a few things. If you like." You cock your head, ghost of a smile passing your lips as your brows raise.

"A gym full of professional fighters and you’d prefer me?”

"Coach says if I do a bit of instructing, it might help me hone in on the basics. That my form gets sloppy when i get too..." He searches for the right wording in place of 'frenzied and enraged' as coach had put it. "Enthusiastic."

You laugh, finishing up your task whilst weighing your options. Unable to stop yourself from speaking your mind.

"Why me, though? I mean, there's plenty of other people here with actual experience." Luckily, he doesn't take the brutal honesty as impolite. Knowing you well enough by now to read your tone.

"Truth is, he says I'm insufferably impatient. You're not...I don't-" A deep sigh escapes him. "I find myself considerably less so with you around." He's unsure where he's typically confident. Fumbling over words like a fucking schoolboy. It's infuriating. "And besides, this might provide both of us peace of mind." Unknowingly, his gaze flickers to the one time asshole turned regular. Obnoxious grunts escaping him as he completes a set. (Half of Tan's usual weight, though whose counting.)

"Let me clock out, then. And please, spare me a black eye over my lunch break."

***

"Your stance is off again. Feet shoulders width apart, remember?"

"Hardly. I thought you said it was a right left left right combo?"

"Left right right, dodge, left." His brows furrow when you throw an ill-executed punch into his chest. Barely phased. "And put some strength behind it, will you?"

"Figured you'd want me to go easy on you-" A small umph escaping your lips when you're suddenly on your ass. Dizzied with the speed of his gentle sweep of your legs.

Tan crouches down, much too cocky for your liking. "You were saying?"

"Fuck off." Your scrambling up again, evading his bright eyes and other disgustingly handsome features.

"Attagirl, just the attitude I'm looking for." You stutter in place, swallowing hard. Skin singing with heat at the platitude. He nudges your shoulder with his glove, even more self-satisfied as he takes in you in. "Something I said?"

"Have you been reminded of your brooding arrogance lately?"

"Not until now, no." He clutches his chest, wounded. You take the opportunity to aim a much harder punch to his shoulder. He's quick to block, knocking your arm with his own and landing an intentionally weak hit to your waist. "Oi, that was a good one! There was strength that time."

"Don't patronize me, asshole." You hold a hand up to signal a pause. Ridding yourself of the oversized gloves to redo your updo. Considering all the activity, unruly strands and other flyaways have begun sticking to your skin. Tan opens his mouth for another witty remark when his bright gaze turns colder. All amusement escaping him as a wolf whistle pierces through the sound of weights racking.

Of course, the tosser from before ogles as you complete the final twists at your hair tie. Hands on his hips as he looks up at the pair of you in the ring.

"Would have asked to go a few rounds with you ages ago, sweetheart. Had I known you were interested."

You feel bold. Partly because you're so fed up with this prick, partly because of the fuming man behind you. "Would you please take a hint and fuck off, Mark?"

"It's Mike."

"Riveting. Get lost." The amused man whistles again, looking around for support from the other gym rats. Who collectively take one look at the boxer behind you, and quietly go back to their workouts.

"Like to take 5, love?" Tan tears at the velcro around his wrists, swiftly discarding his gloves.

"No. Im good, let's keep going." He only shakes his head, holding up a 5 in your direction before he reaches toward his bag. Beginning to tape his knuckles. "Oi, dickhead." Of course, Mike turns his head in the fighter's direction. "Care to go a couple rounds?"

"Listen man, just letting the chick know I'm appreciating what I see." Tan clicks his tongue, freshly wrapped fists clenching tight at his sides.

"See, where I come from, that type of talk about women gets your ass beat, man." There's an evident mockery of his American accent at the nickname. The dig draws the attention of some of the other fighters, ceasing their training to watch the scene unfold.

"Alright," Mike beams brightly at the prospect of a challenge. "Let's see what you got, pretty boy."

"This is ridiculous." You cross your arms over your chest, unappreciative of the testosterone battle.

"Nonsense, sweetheart. How about we make this a little more interesting? Say...Winner takes you on a date? Been dying to get to know you more." He bites his lip as his eyes rake over your body, making a show of his obscene behavior.

An ear-piercing smacking sounds throughout the building. The fabric of Tan's gloves colliding together. Oddly enough, he's gone silent. Practically seething. Without speaking, he closes the space between you. Striking blue eyes boring into yours. A silent plea for permission. Your gaze averts to the other gym-attendees, awaiting what's to come next eagerly. Some amused with Mike's advances, others paying close attention to the enraged man in front of you.

"Knock his fucking teeth out." It's for only Tan to hear, exiting the ring as soon as he lifts the rope for you.

"Game on, then." Mike rolls his his head side to side, calling over one of his buddies to play cornermen. "Sweetheart," he addresses with another sickening smirk. "You wear something pretty tonight, yeah? Show off those legs."

"Shut your fucking mouth and get in the ring, fuckin' tosser." At that, anyone who hadn't been paying attention is fully invested now. surrounding the platform and talking amongst one another. A few even exchanging bets.

Your fight-hungry coworker, Santos, is more than happy to referee. Eagerly instructing the two men to touch gloves and begin.

Mike's fast, undoubtedly. He dodges initial advances from Tan with a self-satisfied chuckle. Dancing around the ring to taunt his opponent. Tangerine's eyes never leave him, muscles taught with adrenaline and anger.

He reminds himself to be focused. Utilize his techniques but dependent on his instincts. Where Mike makes up in speed, he lacks in fundamental skill. His form is sloppy with narcissism and inconsistency.

Realistically, Tangerine could knock him the fuck out right now. But would that be nearly as fun?

Instead, he taunts the misogynistic prick. Beckoning advances, dodging, and landing sharp hits to his midsection. Sure enough to leave a multitude of bruises for weeks to come. Any amateur can notice the shift in the spar instantly. It's turned from a 50/50 to an imminent defeat. Mike's losing wind, taking punches like it's his day job and growing more frustrated each time.

Tan's having a blast, mouthpiece revealed with his unconcealable grin. This is feeding his ego more than he'd like to admit. It's why he can only laugh when Mike does what any exhausted fighter facing loss would do. Grapples onto his opponent and holds til Santos calls break.

"You gonna let him out of his misery now, or should I grab a stool?" Tan's got the same devilish grin as before. Reveling at the sight of Mike's spit, full of crimson blood.

"Now where's the fun in that, Dove? I've only just started." He accepts the water you offer swiftly, eager to get back to it. He's almost frenzied with adrenaline, sweat trickling down his toned skin in steady streams. Veins prominent with the activity. The brunette dips his head down to meet your wandering gaze, eyes twinkling with playful arrogance. "Have I lost you, love? Isn't the cornermen supposed to be keeping me with it?" You hope you don't look as flushed as you feel, though his grin suggests otherwise.

"You seem to be doing just fine without me." You press at a reopened cut in his brow, frowning when the pressure does little to cease the flow of blood.

"That's where you're wrong, love." He rolls his shoulders, tossing a curt nod to Santos at his five second warning. "Much easier winning when you have something to fight for." He's silenced when you force the guard back into his mouth. Brows narrowed in playful disdain despite the wink he sends your way, turning round and facing the center of the ring once more.

They tap gloves for the second time and Santos counts them in.

Mike's on the floor before anyone has a chance to register it.

There's only a beat of silence before the gym erupts in cheers. Astonished at the immediate knockout. Tan ignores it, smug attitude escaping him as soon as Mike comes to. He rips his glove from his hand so he can grab the man's jaw, yanking his gaze away from your direction. Santos is unable to pull him off as Tangerine pushes his face less than an inch from his dazed opponent, eyes full of a fierce sincerity as he mutters something unintelligible to Mike.

With a bare-fisted punch to the mat just beside the pricks' face, Tan is backing off and headed toward you. Casually leaning against the ropes as a couple more bystanders flood in to carry Mike out of the ring.

"Threaten his bloodline, Rocky?"

"Something like that. Let's just say he probably won't be training here for the foreseeable future."

Tagging ppl who seemed to like my last one: @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @ilovelotsoffandoms @wee-little-mouse @blueallover @dontknownameauthor @stevesharrlngtons @

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 38

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 15 minutes

The way back to the police station was silent, with barely any sound from other cars -it wasn't like there were many that time of the year, especially in the area that connected with all the touristic spots. Her brain was keeping her from any sound that could interrupt the several questions that were going through her head. They already had many enemies, she would have to worry about the police as well?

She was feeling overwhelmed, unable to keep up with everything that was happening at once, while Jungkook held the wheel tight at the same time his eyes flew in her direction a few times. He was able to see the tension and worry, and there was nothing that made him angrier than having the feeling he could be of help, but he didn't know how.

Her breath got heavier when his car crossed the bridge, feeling like she was forced back into reality. The familiar and calm vibes that she felt from the other side were completely disappearing as soon as he stopped in front of the first traffic light. Under the red light, Jungkook was finally able to look at her, eyes falling to the way her fingers moved nervously on her lap.

—Maybe it has nothing to do with me —he whispered, covering her hands with his palm.

—No —she shook her head, scoffing—. Police came to my place to come at me for sneaking inside the bus a few times when I was eighteen.

—What if it's a trick? —he mumbled.

Y/n's eyes went from the dashboard to Jungkook, catching his eyes briefly before he focused back on the road.

He wanted to keep those thoughts in the back of his head to focus on her, on her reaction and her feelings until they arrived at the police station. He didn't want to alarm her, but it was obvious it was already too late. She was nervous and anxious, expecting anything to come at them at that point.

—Maybe they're pretending to be cops.

—I don't think they're pretending, but they're clearly on Pedro's payroll —she shrugged—. Comissars, politics... I've seen a lot of them coming to the club. They don't need to pretend to be cops, because they already have cops on their side. And I doubt they'd appoint me at the police station if they wanted to do something to me. What worries me is if it has nothing to do with Pedro or your father.

—It'll be okay —he assured her.

Y/n wanted to believe his words, she really wanted to think it was something they could ignore, but having someone watching their every move would only complicate everything they were planning to do.

—Sure it'll be—she nodded, pointing at the last turn he had to take—. It's here —she informed him.

—Hun, it'll be okay —he repeated, holding her wrist when she unbuckled her belt—. Don't let them get to you.

—Easier said than done —she managed to tease him, dedicating a weak smile to him.

Chuckling at her comment, he pulled her close with a hand behind her neck, leaving a short kiss on her forehead.

—I'll be waiting for you here.

He'd always wait for her. She knew that quite well, and maybe that was the problem from the beginning. On her way to the police station, she started thinking about what good she brought into his life. It was as if everything that could turn out wrongly would only happen after she showed up in his life -and she admitted her fault on it.

Y/n walked around the place, guided to a desk in particular after she repeated the name Jorge had sent her through text. The only times she had stepped inside a police station was to renew her ID, but she was able to feel the pressure as she was guided through the room.

It wasn't like she had seen in several movies and TV shows, where she got anxious with the amount of people coming and going and the constant ringing of phones. It was calm, even silent. Maybe that day was particularly silent.

—Y/n? —the brunet bearded man asked the uniformed cop.

Both of their heads turned to her. The cop who was in his civilian clothes, and that she thought was the person looking for her, nodded at the other man and signaled him to leave them two alone.

—I'm Agent Ramirez —he introduced himself.

—I know, I had to ask for you just a minute ago —her tone was dry, blocking any aim to get closer to her.

The man just nodded, taken aback by her sudden answer and her defensive pose. There was no use in trying to soften everything, and act like she was there for something dumb and stupid that could've been solved through a phone call. He guided her to one of the free rooms, making sure there was no one inside, and hoping there was someone listening at the other side of the mirror.

—Do you know why you're here?

—I'm not a fortune teller, so you tell me —she answered, taking a seat.

The room was dark, barely lit with more than just two white lamps, and it was only making her stress get worse.

—Jeon Jungkook.

She clicked her tongue at the pronunciation of his name, crossing her arms over her chest before she corrected him.

—Whatever —he sighed—. What's your relationship with him?

—I'm his girlfriend.

—For how long have you known him?

—A few months.

—Be exact.

She pressed her lips tight, trying to clear up the dates after everything that had happened in such a short span of time.

—Almost four months —her eyes squinted while looking at the man standing in front of her, seeing him playing with the beige folder in his hands—. And this is important because...?

—Because you're still on time to run away from this with no consequences.

—Is this what the police do in Spain now? —she scoffed, eyebrows arching— You all have nothing better to do than going to random people's places and sticking your noses into their love lives?

—Not everyone is mingling with a drug dealer and procurer —he cut her off.

Her throat closed off at the cutting answer he dedicated to her, opening the file to drop some pictures over the table. Most of them were blurry, and it was hard for her to tell whether it was Jungkook or not, except for one. The agent topped all of the other pictures with one where Jungkook was clearly visible, talking with Yejun -and judging by some of the people in the background's clothes, she was sure those were taken during the summer. She could recognize the suit he wore the night they met, and how his hair was perfectly styled to the sides before she made a mess of it.

—I know you were working for a while in Pedro's club. And your father told me you moved out not long ago because you found a job overseas. Whatever you know, you should tell us. Jungkook, Park Jimin, Pedro Montes... all of them are dangerous people, and...

—Is there any proof except for this picture? —she pointed to it with her head.

—What?

—I'm asking if there's any proof for your accusations except for this picture —she reiterated, getting comfortable on the chair while her legs crossed under the table—. Or your scoop didn't have the balls to give you more? —her eyebrow raised.

—This has been an investigation going on for quite a long time...

—Yet all you could get was five blurry pictures, and a stalker-ish picture taken without Jungkook's consent while he was in a meeting to amplify his business in Europe.

—That's why you should work with us, do the right thing, and get all those assholes behind bars.

He was looking at her attentively, hiding his smile when he was aware of the way her fingers moved over the pictures. Almost as if she were getting ready to say something and open up about all the secrets she was keeping.

—Hope you know this is defamation —she mentioned, not even moving her eyes up to him—. You should know better than to waste people's time when your only proof is that —she challenged him—. My private life is no one's business. And if you don't know how to do your job properly, find a better way to find out things than sticking your nose inside things that aren't your problem.

—It was hard, right? —he interrupted her, supporting the weight of his body on the hand that landed over the table— Leaving your studies and your family, and being forced to live a poor life in this shitty place... I know that luxury life, after you came from nothing, is tempting. But it's not worth it. You don't owe anything to Jungkook. Be smart, look out for your family and break any strings you have with him. We'll give you protection, and everything you need if you collaborate.

She could feel her heart racing at that sudden attack, throat closing at only remembering the thoughts that she would constantly try to hide even from herself.

Y/n scoffed, looking down while that ironic smile adorned her face, looking up at him again to let out the calmest response she could give in that moment.

—Is that it? —she managed to ask— If you don't have any more bullshit to say, can I leave? I have things to do.

Without answering, he just nodded and allowed her to head to the door. She stopped on her tracks, momentarily making him think she might've changed her mind and was willing to help.

—All that crap better not leak to the media unless you want to deal with his lawyers —she warned him.

She walked fast, making her way from the room she was into the main entrance, feeling her heart getting smaller in her chest with every step she took. As soon as the cold air hit her face and filled her lungs, a loud gasp left her lips along with some of the teardrops she wasn't able to stop.

Jungkook was in danger, and so were Jorge and Carla, and it all was because of her and her bad decisions. The same cycle went on again. She kept hurting everyone around her, even if those people had given her everything she could ask for. She managed to find a way to harm them somehow.

The reverse of her hand wiped those few tears away, and dried the wet trace on her cheeks, at the same time she tried to breathe deeply. She kept trying to control her thoughts, and go back to nothing before she met with him again.

She didn't speak, she tried to seem cheerful and carefree when she joined him back in the car, but he knew there was something wrong. A quick look into her eyes and he was able to tell that the tone of her voice and her smile weren't in sync with what her gaze was showing. He wanted to ask, or at least let her know that he knew he didn't believe a single word that escaped her lips, but she wanted him to believe everything was alright. And while he wanted to support and comfort her, he also understood that what she wanted in that moment is to believe he bought a single word she let out.

He would gladly do that for her.

—And when he told me all that bullshit, I told him he better not spread those lies around unless he wants you to take legal action.

—Look at you being a tiny mafia boss —he patted her head.

—Can you drop me home? —she asked— I think Jorge deserves an explanation. Or, at least, tell him it's nothing he should worry about.

—Sure. I'll wait for you in the car.

Jungkook started the car, only to drive two minutes away from the police station and stop right in front of her portal. He wouldn't leave her side, not with everything that was happening, so it wasn't on his plans to drop her at her place and leave until they met again. He learned from his past mistakes, and he wasn't thinking of repeating them.

She hopped off the car, kissing his cheek loudly, earning a smile from him, the sweet sound filling the guts she needed to confront Jorge.

Usually, the common courtyard was either empty, or there were two of her neighbors talking between them, not loud enough to let everyone know what they were talking about, but audible enough to let it be known they were dealing with some dangerous information for someone. Although it was obvious for her she was the target, when she stepped inside the building and their eyes traveled instantly to her, at the same time their conversation was suddenly cut off. It wasn't like she cared, it wasn't one of her problems, but she hoped that would prepare her for what she was going to deal with.

The door clicked, and she was met with the murmuring voices from the TV, and a pair of suitcases under the green crystal shelf at the left of the corridor, where they'd leave the keys. She did her best ignoring all the flashbacks that were battling to get inside her head, getting strength out of nowhere to step deeper in the house, turning to the left at the first double door to meet Jorge, who was sitting at the edge of the couch while he stared at her.

—Are you cleaning up? —she pointed behind her.

—I hope not —he sighed—. Let's not play around, can we? We both have always gone straight to the point.

—If this is because of the police showing up... It was a misunderstanding.

—That's what you told them? —he raised his eyebrow— And they ate it up? No wonder the country is going nowhere if we depend on dumbasses like them —he complained, sighing as he stood up.

—I don't really know w...

Her voice was stopped by the loud slap of his hand against the table, making her whole body jump.

—Don't play dumb with me, Y/n. I've known you for way too long to know what you're doing. You suddenly disappeared, the amount of money you had and gave to us when you weren't even around, and the way you showed up to disappear again? —he stopped her— I won't tolerate you treating me like a fool. Not with something so serious.

—I've done nothing wrong.

—You didn't, but the dude you're with did. Did you think about yourself? Or did you even think of Carla for once? Do you have any fucking idea the danger you could put her in for the people you mingled with?

—Jungkook wouldn't hurt anyone I care for.

—Let's say he wouldn't, what about the people that would want to hurt him? Or you? I gave you a home, and I treated you like a daughter. And I'd always consider you a part of my family. Y/n, this is your family. We will always be here for you no matter what, and you're still on time to make the right decision.

Her expression twisted at his words, understanding the meaning behind them and what his intention was.

—I'm sorry you did what you did all this time —he apologized with a shaky voice—. I'm sorry you felt forced to throw yourself into that life to make up for my debts. But you don't need to do that anymore.

—Why are you feeling sorry for that? —the longer the minutes passed, the burning in her eyes increased— It wasn't your fault.

—You can move away from all of that. Go to the police, and make the right decision. Just say you were scared, or whatever you come up with, and come back home. We'll leave this in the past.

—I can't —she shook her head, feeling the knot in her throat tightening—. I can't —her lip trembled—. Please, don't do this. Don't make me choose.

—He's a stranger, for fuck's sake —Jorge stepped back—. You're willing to risk your life, and ours, for him? Carla looks up to you, what am I supposed to tell her?

—Whatever you want to tell her, it's your choice —she whispered, trying to remain as calm as possible—. Whether you want her to hate me or love me, and be relevant or not in her life, it's okay. I deserve it all, to be honest. Just, please, keep all the money I've sent you all these months. And make sure you use the money in the savings account for her university.

After a few months with them, Y/n started sending some of the money she earned to Jorge's savings account. Not expecting anything special in return, she just wanted to make sure there would be some money left for some important things to spend it on. And through the years she realized how important it was. That money was left untouched even when they needed it the most, only because she wanted Carla to have the future she never was able to have, even if that meant crawling to Pedro's dump.

She didn't want to break out crying right there, so she just nodded with her words still flying in the air between them. Picking up her things, she left her place under the attentive eyes of her neighbors, keeping herself as stiff and tough as she had always pretended to be like. She didn't break when she stepped outside, or when Jungkook helped her with her suitcases, and not even when he dropped the killing question and asked her what happened.

She broke when they were completely in silence, only surrounded by the roaring sound of the engine, and while her thoughts consumed her. Her lip trembled fast, unable to stop it -it didn't matter how much she tightened her jaw-, followed by a sob that worked as the start of countless tears rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably.

Jungkook gave her space and time to think by herself, but when he saw her in that state he was unable to just ignore it. He stopped the car at the side of the road, right next to another car that was parked, along with several others, in line. His hand caressed the back of her neck, while his other hand rested on her thigh, trying to calm her down, before he managed to unbuckle her belt and pull her in for a hug.

—It's all my fault —he managed to hear after a few minutes just hearing sobs and snorts—. I don't deserve to be around anyone.

—Y/n, how can you say something like that?

—I only hurt people —she answered, her voice cracking in the middle of the sentence—. I've put everyone in danger. Jorge, Carla, you...

—First of all, I'm the one who put you in danger —he cut her off—. And I thought you said you would protect me? Are you giving up on your skills already?

He tried to soften the situation she was going through at that moment. She was pretty aware of her reality, but being confronted with it is a completely different experience.

—You don't understand. If you had only seen the way he was looking at me —she shook her head in his chest—. I make it all worse for everyone. If I hadn't come into your life...

—If you hadn't come into my life, I wouldn't know what's living in the first place —he whispered—. You said you didn't regret a single thing we did, so? I don't regret a single thing either. I said I would die for you. And knowing my life is worth so much now that I have someone to die for is way better than spending my days being safe in my tower. You've only brought good things into my life.

Y/n finally moved back to look at him, with her whole body bouncing with the hiccups and her eyes looking puffy and red from crying. His thumbs wiped her tears away, while he just smiled to comfort her.

—And I know their protection worries you, I already worked on it. Two men will be watching them until all of this is over. It'll be fine.

Y/n hid her face on his chest again, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. Jungkook chuckled at her action, quickly patting her head while the other arm wrapped tight around her body and pulled her closer, as if he wanted them to morph into one.

—I love you —she managed to say, voice sounding drowned.

—I love you, too, doll.

Just like it happened earlier in the morning, the buzzing of a phone broke the moment, making them look at each other before Jungkook lifted his hips to get his phone out of the back pocket of his pants.

He smirked, pleased with how everything was working just how he wanted. Aware of Y/n's curious eyes, he moved the screen in her direction so she'd be able to read.

Pedro was throwing a party in the name of a good friend of his, and it seemed like they already had a plan for that night. 

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast

[lemotmo]

OMG to your last anon YES! the complete canon Buck erasure that is happening on some of those blogs is batshit crazy. Conquer ten thousand percent and yes the damse/helpless without Tommyl nonsense is gross. They're telling us Buck has been begging people to call him Evan for years and Tommy is just the only one who's listened to him *gag me* WHAT?! I even saw a few that said Tommy will help Buck see that the entire 118 has been emotionally manipulative to him for years and he's just taken it because no one's ever loved him enough to tell him he's worth more until now SERIOUSLY I HATE IT HERE.

Oh and one genius said they can't wait for the episode where Eddie leaves Buck to die in order to save himself and Tommy comes to his rescue and punches Eddie in the face and Buck decides to transfer to Tommy's house as a result. These are people who have supposedly been watching for 6 plus years. What the actual FUCK?

I'm not going to touch the Oliver hate that is creeping more and more into some of it. They finally seemed to agree he's not into it. It is a fandom of Tommy shipping. Buck has nothing to do with it. And those fucking cameo videos are entirely to blame.

Hi Nonny. Yeah, I understand your frustration. I've seen some of these takes around as well. Some of these people dismiss what the show is really about: the 118 as a found family.

Buck is woobyfied and treated as a small boy that needs to be protected by his new big hulky loving boyfriend. That is not the Buck we have come to know and love over the last couple of seasons. He doesn't need protection in a romantic relationship. He needs understanding, recognition and love. And guess what? He already has someone in his life who can give him just that. His name is Eddie Diaz.

The Ryan/Eddie hate is strong in that part of the fandom as well, but lately I have also seen some Oliver hate creep in. I agree that it probably has to do with the total non-reaction by Oliver on the BT relationship.

But look, he never lied about BT or lead them on in any way. He made it clear from the start that BT is a transitional relationship that will end. So he has decided to not engage with that part of the fandom, not willing to give them false hope. He did the same with Buddie in the past, until something changed pre-season 7 and he started gushing about it again. To me this is another sure sign that Buddie is happening.

As for Eddie leaving Buck to die? LOL! As if! That man wouldn't leave Buck to die even if it meant him dying as well. That's devotion.

I find it waaaay more likely that Tommy will be the one to emotionally leave Buck on his own as the 118 will be dealing with Gerrard. I can see Tommy saying: "Just don't interfere and stay low. That's what I did. It'll blow over." after Buck told him once again how Gerrard is making Chim and Hen (and probably Eddie, Ravi and Buck included) pay for what happened with him in the past.

Most of these 'headcanons' floating around were started by Lou on his cameos and -unfortunately- some people just rolled with it. I don't know if they understand that these are things that Lou made up in his mind as an actor, but they aren't real parts of Tommy's character. The writers are the only ones writing Tommy. They decide who he is and how he acts. And so far, Tommy has not really been a very interesting or loving character towards Buck. That is what is canon right now. It's important to keep that in mind.

Ultimately I wouldn't get too worked up about it. The BT scenes were about 17 minutes from a season made up of 10 episodes. A season that has tons of great Buddie scenes, more than ever before. The writing on the wall is as obvious as it can be. It's not our problem that some people can't read it.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Tim dealing with the 5 stages of grief please

Unfortunately not in the best headspace to go through all five stages individually, so I went through them as a whole, hope that’s okay

Tim, outwardly at least, doesn't seem all that different after your passing. Well, it's obvious he's incredibly distressed and upset that you're gone, but not much changes at first. There's not any denial, no fighting about what happened, and no begging for something different. He just moves on with his days on the outside, and doesn't try to drag anyone down or try to change any of the ways he's done things before.

It's not until he rolls into the anger stages that people can tell he's really upset and feeling it. He stops pulling his punches on the training gear, training until his knuckles are bloodied. He stops holding his punches on victims and targets, hitting harder than he used to. He's angry at himself for allowing this to happen, to happen to you of all things, the light of his life and the thing that actually made him fully happy. His anger burns out quickly into a deep, bitter loneliness, however. Tim has never been clingy around the other members, often preferring solitude and quiet, but he tends to hang around people more. Staying later in training to "monitor" them, staying in the dining room later after meals to hear their banter and conversation, and floating around in the public spaces more often. It's clear he wants their company more in his bargaining stage, and they also make an effort to hang around Tim more.

Tim's depressive section of the five stages doesn't weather him too badly. It's clear to all around him that he's really going through it, but he doesn't let it dominate his life. He keeps going, for your sake purely, to keep living for you. He wakes up and goes to bed all the same, even if the bed is colder without you beside him in it. His days are a bit bleaker, but he carries on as he knows that you would want him to. Acceptance will come to Tim in time. It's not all at once, and it could take months or years for it to hit him, but he will in time. He'll learn it's okay to be alive. He doesn't have to feel guilty about living while you aren't here beside him anymore, and he can smile and laugh and have fun and not feel the need to punish himself for it. It'll be a long, hard road for him, but it's one he's set to walking, because deep down he knows you still want him to be happy, and he'll always try to be happy for your sake. 

[wrestlingisfake]

The Fightful report about Ring of Honor getting more attention feels like a nothing burger. The gist is that, during AEW's residency in Arlington, there will be standalone ROH tapings, instead of taping ROH before/after Collision. That will probably help, but the residency only lasts for six weeks, and after All In it's right back to business as usual. So there's no reason to expect any lasting changes.

The problem with ROH is that it only exists right now so that Tony Khan can keep it alive until he gets the brand a TV deal. As I recall, Khan turned down TV deals for ROH last year, because he was hoping to bundle it with AEW in the current rights negotiations. So I don't expect any major investment into ROH to begin until after the AEW deal is signed. And even then, if ROH isn't bundled into that deal, then Tony has to start over, and find some other outlet to pay for ROH--which is probably doable, but it'll take a while.

Until all that is resolved, there's little financial incentive to improve ROH. I mean, I can think of things they can do to make the weekly show more watchable, but none of them would be free. For example, it seems obvious to me that the Infantry should be pushed hard as top acts in ROH. But if they did that, and the Infantry got over huge, it'd be silly to keep them on ROH, when AEW television is the primary revenue stream for both brands. Anything I can come up with to build up ROH itself would ultimately cannibalize AEW's net income, either by adding expenses or leaving money on the table.

For now, the most cost-effective strategy for ROH is probably what they've been doing, and what they were already doing with Dark and Elevation. It's largely a series of tryout matches for jobbers and free agents, but they tape it just in case they can make any extra money by putting it on the internet. I understand why Cary Silkin thinks that's a shell of what the Ring of Honor brand once stood for. But if that's how he feels about ROH since 2024, I have some real bad news for him about what ROH was like in 2019.

[jungle-angel]

Let Me Take Care Of You (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: Miles has always taken care of you, but for once, you let him be your little pillow prince

The day had been absolute hell for poor Miles as he stumbled through the door of the cottage. Just one thing after another, no break in between and now that a thunderstorm was looming on the horizon, it made the aches and pains in his body much worse than they had been before.

He saw all the lights on as he shut the door behind him, the cat curling around his legs as she meowed, her mate in the basket near the fireplace. Miles gave her a few scritches behind the ears before she hurried away to the living room.

Everything felt so heavy and so weighed-down that he felt his lower lip beginning to wobble a little. Everything felt heavy, his head, his shoulders and the air as it left his chest. He tried everything in his power to hold back his tears, but it was impossible. Everything that had happened that day, threatened to well over and spill out.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs startled him a little. At first he thought it was his mother or father, come to help out around the house, but no......it was the one person he had hoped would be waiting for him....you.

"Miles?"

He turned his head at the sound of your sweet voice. There you were in your white, thin strapped nightdress, your stringy white crochet shawl around your shoulders, one hand on the railing and the other caressing your very obvious bump. No words needed to be spoken for the look of worry on your face said all.

"Oh sweetheart," he blurted out. "Sweetheart."

He fell into your arms, hugging you tightly, but doing his best to mind the little one growing inside you. "Miles what's wrong?" you asked him.

"I'm.....I'm so tired," he whimpered. "Had to drive a half hour to town and back, the guy that sold us a new horse was giving us a hard time....just one thing after another."

Your hands gently held his cheeks in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the shiny, stray tears that fell from his pretty blue eyes. "You come upstairs with me," you told him. "Benny's at your parents and I'm here by myself. You always took care of me Miles....now it's my turn to do the same for you."

Miles nodded, still trying to hold back his emotions as he followed you upstairs. You ran him a hot bath with extra epsom salts, putting a soaking wet washcloth on the back of his neck and dabbing his cheeks with it. You pulled up a small wooden stool that was easy for you to get up and down from, sitting beside Miles as he soaked in the big clawfoot bathtub and breathing in the comforting lavender scent.

"You're so good to me," he hummed. "I should be the one taking care of you."

"Miles," you chuckled. "You need to be taken care of too, you know."

A happy smile formed on his face as he lifted his head to kiss you, his hands reaching out to gently touch your bump. His smile grew even wider as he felt the tiny little feet kicking against the palm of his hand, the little one in your belly eager to make their way into the world.

"You think it'll be soon?" he asked.

"Not sure," you answered. "I'm hoping soon though."

Miles had hoped it would be soon too. Already summer was beginning to wind down and soon fall would be setting in with its own changes. He couldn't wait to hold the little one the same way he had once held Benny two years before.

As soon as Miles had gotten out and dried off, he was in a new pair of pale blue pajamas, the button-down and matching pants both fresh from the wash. He laid right down on his side of the bed before you covered him up and joined him.

"My baby," he murmured, kissing your lips softly as you lay comfortably beside him. "Both my babies......I love you so much."

You hummed with contentment as your husband's hand rubbed gentle circles on your bump. "Lay on your back," you told him.

Miles gave you a curious look as you propped yourself up but as he lay on his back, he melted into your little touches. You brushed aside his curls and gently caressed his cheeks until those beautiful, dark gold lashes fell against his cheeks and a sleepy, angelic look fell over Miles's face.

"I love you Miles," you whispered, settling in beside him. "All three of your babies love you very much."

And the sleepy smile that formed on his face once more, made him look sweeter than ever as he snuggled you against him.

[grappel-writes]

Fire's Hot, and other obvious things.

"Yes, the fire is hot. No need to check it again, I can promise you it'll be the same every time." "Really? Figured that out in the two hundred years you've got on me?" "That, and more."

---

Orion and Astarion discuss the past, firsts, and what it means to be 'sort of' in a relationship. Inspired by his lines at the tiefling party if you tell him you shouldn't sleep together again, and choosing him over Wyll.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50555917

Angst, emotional trauma, other kinds of trauma, Orion backstory, and waxing poetic about what it means to be in sort of a relationship.

These were Orion’s favorite nights, when he offered to take the first watch, and Astarion stayed up with him anyway. There were plenty of explanations, perhaps Astarion was hoping he’d get to feed on the half-elf before hunting for the night, or waste the time away satisfying different hungers (irresponsible as it was). Perhaps it was that they had grown closer than the others in this time, and had saved each other in battle more times than they’d like to count. Astarion catching traps right before Orion would stumble through them, or the way Orion would step in front of the other to take a strike for him, only to turn and ask if he was okay anyway with blood running down his own face. There was a safety with each other that was undeniable, even while being very aware that they had a couple of ways to easily kill each other. Every single moment, they chose to protect, instead.

The campfire crackles quietly in a comfortable silence until it’s tossed up in a flurry of sparks and ash as Orion tosses another log into the pit. Carelessly, he turns it with a bare hand, pushing aside and exposing the hot coal bed to release more heat. He moves it with brief touches, pulling his hand back and shaking it when the heat is too much. Astarion scoffs at him, “Yes, the fire is hot, no need to check it again. I can promise you it’ll be the same every time.” “Really? Figured that out in the two hundred years you’ve got on me?” Orion claps his hands to knock off any dust and ash before taking his spot next to Astarion again. It’s comfortable, but there’s still a tension that makes his stomach flip when they’re alone like this. Makes him easier to flush, easier to smile, and other things that make him look like a fool, he’s sure. 

“I have, and many other things.” Astarion rests back on his hands, shoulders swaying back and forth as he lets himself be hypnotized by the growing flames. “While you were busy not existing, I also learned people, how to have a good time, how to kill quietly, and I might even remember some law. Though…” he tilts his head, clicks his tongue, “Who knows if it’s changed since I last read up on it.” 

“With the number of humans that have been running things lately, I’m sure it has.” Orion pulls looses his hair, shakes it before pulling those stray pieces around his face back again. “Can you blame them? Jobs like that and with such a short amount of time to do anything with it, they have to make their mark somehow. Not all of us get eternity.”

“They should be more mindful of those of us that do…” Astarion pouts, still swaying, “But what about you, half-human?” the next sway is closer, indulging himself the pleasure of watching the flickering firelight dance shadows across Orion’s face. “You don’t have eternity either, have you ever thought about leaving your mark, as it were?” “Besides the obvious?” Orion points to his head with a laugh, then lets his look go back up to the stars, the same ones that had looked over both of them their whole lives apart, but now seemed to be a more rapt audience to their shared nights. “That’s a big question… hard for me to think of much else past the next crisis.” That’s… fair. Astarion remembers that well. It was impossible to even conceive that there would still be days, months, years to come when the current moment was hell. When he was trapped, he fought to think of the future, fought to remind himself that it could be better, could be different. Even still, there were plenty of days where all that existed was each single, hellish moment, and trying to imagine years of that was only further torture. “Perfectly understandable. Fine then, surely you’ve done something already that’s left your mark? A rival, a conquest, a…” He waves a hand in the air as if to conjure the next word, “well I don’t know! What exactly does a rich bastard son living a life of leisure do other than make enemies and lovers?”

Orion laughs, a tinge of red dusting the ends of his ears. It’s strange for him, talking to a man who lived similarly, but doesn’t remember it. It could have been something they compared notes about, if the situation was different. 

“Nearly everything but that, actually. I got pretty good at card and yard games… Lots of studying. Lots of history lessons, music, math, they tried to teach me basic magic but,” he clears his throat, and outstretches a palm. He’s clearly focusing hard on it while sparks sputter and die out in a pathetic display. Astarion gives a quiet, sarcastic little clap. 

“Exactly. That’s okay, turns out I was pretty strong. When I wasn’t doing those things I was running drills, practicing…” he can feel the boredom radiating off of Astarion, an almost pitying look of disbelief that his life had been so mundane. “That’s not to say I never did anything else though…” “Did you really? I don’t know if I believe you. How could you have managed to sneak in some companionship after all those thrilling days of fighting wooden dummies and reciting poetry?” “Well, sort of.” Orion rubs a hand over his jaw, a nervous fidget that only interests the vampire more. 

“Sort of? You’ve never been noncommittal about anything for a moment I’ve known you, but with a lover suddenly it’s ‘soft of?’” he laughs, not the graceful laugh, the loud one that makes Orion smile, too. “All that money and free time, and none of the responsibility of a political marriage. Why not? I’m glad you got some ‘sort of’. If I hadn’t been stalking around under orders, if I had met you while I was bored out of mind as a magistrate, I would’ve loved to have been a ‘sort of’ with you.” He means it as a joke, but Orion’s dropped look indicates he’s cut truer than he intended. “Oh. Oh, there’s a story here.” He leans forward, mixed concern and interest in his furrowed brow. 

The Astarion that had met Orion would pull on that thread with all he’s got. Little flirts and sweet words made the fighter open up so easily for him. Recently though, he walks away from those encounters feeling… dirty. After everything Orion had done, Astarion couldn’t bear being another player to his downfall within his own camp. So instead, he blinks, pulls his voice away from his playing cadence. “Maybe one you don’t want to tell…? We can pretend you never said anything, if you’d like.” Orion scoffs and waves a hand like it isn’t a bother, like his gold didn't lose its luster when it came up. 

“There was a girl.” “I see,” Astarion tries to stifle his interest, looking back to the fire, “Your ‘sort of’? What happened?” Orion shrugs, “And… then there wasn’t. I’m not sure what else to say.” “Did she die? Was she ritualistically sacrificed? Was she just… sent away?” Astarion’s talking with his hands, gesturing over their shared space. Orion had never talked about the people he knew, outside of his immediate family, before. A hard shell to open, and Astarion was amazed he was doing it so willingly, with so little work, and how much better it felt to let Orion make this decision on his own. 

“No, no, nothing so dramatic.” he laughs and glances nervously back up to the vampire. “I can tell you, but you have to promise that it doesn’t change anything between us. I don’t want you to think less of me because of it.”

That nearly makes Astarion’s stolen blood run impossibly colder. “I can’t think of anything that would. Short of her also being a vampire, and then we’d have much to discuss.” “Hah, no, not that I’m aware of.” “Okay, then I’m sure I can handle it.” 

Orion breathes deep, “Her name’s Fermine, and she and I knew each other for a long time. We were friends as kids, and then we were always close. Her, me, and my brother.” “How… endearing.” “Her parents didn’t think so. I liked her… a lot.” Orion turns to face Astarion better now, an open posture that the other man wasn’t expecting in a confession like this. “She liked me, too. It seemed so simple and obvious to us. Until we got much older, and then my brother told me he had always liked her as well. It was simple and obvious to him, too.” Astarion is silent and leans forward, hooked. “He’s the oldest, unmarried, and our mom’s actual son.” he sighs, eyes dropping back to the fire, but not remorsefully. “Her parents had apparently been discussing it for a long time, and Fermina’s very good at being an oldest daughter. Her family would have been lost for a generation, at least. She didn’t want that. But… it’s okay. We got to be kids together. And she does like him, for his own reasons. And Dallin loves her more than the world. She wouldn’t have agreed to it if she couldn’t be happy with him.” There’s a beat where nothing can be heard but the fire crackling. “They’re engaged now.”

Then he breathes deep, a light smile coming back when he looks at Astarion, whatever haunting emotions about the woman he claimed didn’t matter dissolving back into the night air. “We were abducted not long after they announced the wedding date. They must think I’ve run off of a broken heart or petty jealousy. That’ll be a fun conversation when we make it back home. But, really, I’m happy for them.”

“So your brother steals away the woman you love, and you’re happy for it?” Astarion’s too lost in his own head to make sense of it. Orion was generous, he knew, and cared for his family but to the point of self denial like this…? 

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He laughs, “But I love them both, and I’m happy that they’re happy.” “What happened to not having eternity, Orion? To making a mark and getting what’s yours in your short life?” The vampire’s voice is rising, nearly demanding, but the fighter just looks confused, gives the man a full once over. 

“They’re both humans, they’ve got even less time and they’re better matched.” He glances away, “But I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of perfect saint, either. I was furious when I’d found out. That they always knew and never wanted to break the news to me… But I’d never let them know that, not when so many people were counting on it, I couldn’t step between all that good. Didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they bothered me, either.” A small, self satisfied smile before he clears his throat and continues. “But it did feel like betrayal, being hurt by the people who said they’d always support me, being reminded that at the end of the day that’s their world, not mine. They just allow me to live there when I’m not inconvenient.” 

“At least you didn’t tilt your hand. Look, I know it’s not your typical modus operandi, but think of the position this puts you in.” He leans closer conspiratorially, pointing at his own temple to designate their new illithid granted authority. “You could go back home and wrest that authority from them. Let them be married and happy, sure, live the short life of leisure they’ll have. Then you could step forward and act in their place, as someone more fair and reasonable, of course. It’s not like you’re doomed because of your lineage, and those that don’t accept you, you’ll have the power to make them.” 

Orion looks thoughtful, as if he’s considering it, but he laughs it off. “Maybe. Maybe you’re right. I don’t think I could do that to them, but a stronger man could.” Astarion deflates, falling back into a slump again, the fighter is hopeless.

“And maybe I’d consider it if I was still hurt, but I’m not mad about it anymore. Ever since being abducted, infected, fighting through the wilds with little rest and cultists hunting us. It puts things in perspective, there are more important things out there than political weddings.” “Mhmm, like friendship and community, I’m sure?” 

Orion smiles fondly at him, obviously having not learned his lesson about things that feel simple and obvious. Just as Astarion has perfected pulling the threads that make Orion unravel, the fighter in turn has discovered the cracks in Astarion’s prickly defenses. Instead of prying at them and forcing them open, he just acknowledges them, speaks to them directly. It’s warm and terrifying all at the same time. “Sort of, now I care about things like the morning sun, new starts, being surrounded by people I never would have met otherwise, but I’d lay my life down for now. Getting to live another day. And getting to meet you, Astarion. Sorry if I’m being blunt, but you’ve been my favorite part of all of this.” At first Astarion wants to dismiss those words, a tired line he had used himself to wrap unsuspecting victims around his finger, but this is different. This is Orion. This man doesn’t lure, or manipulate, he’s only ever said what he meant and lived up to his words to prove it.  

A gnawing dread begins to eat away at Astarion’s confidence. All that work to pull Orion in and lay him bare had worked, and now that he had accomplished it, he was forced to look into the past. Into this golden face that was just like the faces of other men that had been so sweet and trusting, and he had betrayed. He was free now, he didn’t have to live like that, but here he was, doing it again of his own accord. Repeating the process, pulling another man who just wanted to love him down. He can’t linger on that though, instead, he lets the other questions drift forward in his mind. More pressing ones. 

“This woman… was she the only one you ever slept with?” Orion looks away immediately, almost turning fully away from the sudden question. “I… what do you mean? What do you define as…?” “So - not sex?” “We, I mean.” he laughs, shrugs, obviously over his head with the topic. “I guess? This is the part where you’re not supposed to let anything be different.” The dread becomes a pit, sucking in all those rosy, fleeting feelings Astarion had dared to feel everytime the sun hit his skin and Orion smiled at him, and crushes them under a weight of guilt. A proper punishment for what he had done, he supposes.

“Orion, was I your first?” He moves closer, wanting to turn his face to him, but touching the other man feels like even more of a sin now. 

The half-elf pinches his brows with concern, looks back so soft and trusting the vampire can’t stand it. “In a few ways, yes.” “...Why didn’t you tell me?” Another shrug, Orion obviously on edge now. “Would it have changed anything? You seemed like you had a plan, you were clear about what it was and what would be happening I just-” he pushes a hand through his hair, feeling criticized and embarrassed about the whole thing. Of course Astarion didn’t know, at his age it would have been a strange assumption to make. And he had wanted it, so why did it matter? It wasn’t at all how he had pictured things would happen, but any day could be their last and he took hold of an opportunity. Why wasn’t that simple?  “I was excited, I had fun. Astarion, I wouldn’t have wanted it to go any differently. I wouldn’t have wanted you to do anything special or treat me like something that could have been broken. I thought maybe we’d get more time before, but you -” He swallows hard, a confession he wasn’t ready for nearly coming through. 

The vampire sits back, putting space between them again, trying to look composed while also trying to put out the wildfire of complications that are threatening to burn him down. Of course this had happened before, when he picked from the masses indiscriminately, there was bound to be a varied spectrum of experiences. He had never remembered any of them before, never cared about them. Never slept back to back with, fought with, was cared for by any of those targets. None of them were Orion. 

Once upon a time, back when he had daydreams that weren’t about escape, about getting a night in a proper bed, and when he didn’t have an ungodly hunger, it would have changed everything. He would have wanted to court and swoon the bright faced, scandalous son of a noble family for all it was worth. The stories it would have started, the nights they would have shared in tense suspense, prolonging the inevitable while they did the work of getting to know each other, because that’s what they both would have wanted before they thought their lives might be over. Nights gossipping back and forth at boring dinner parties, drawing the looks and gossip in return of other guests, before they’d steal away to the garden. Being his ‘sort of’.

Astarion’s far away look is drawn back, reigned in, and with a practiced effort he puts all of those could have been emotions back in the vault where they belonged. Imagining things like that would only hurt them, it wasn’t what they had and they never would. This had started as just a way to secure protection, but now he knew in some way, he had to make this right. It’s a daunting task he knows nothing about, but he folds his hands on a knee and tries his best.  “You know, I’m a bit more traveled than you,” Astarion starts, the careful mask slipping. “But, that night meant something to me. It was special, not because of it being your first, but because I’ve been on my back tens of thousands of times, and forgotten over half of them… but that night we shared. I’ll always remember you.”

In the grass, of all places. Astarion was used to working with little, but nothing was a new challenge. Orion had been inexperienced, he could tell, but had written it off because of lack of a full night’s sleep in at least a tenday, on top of the exhaustions of camp living. If he had been more present, more aware of what was happening and not retreated back into his mind, let habit take over… It would have been different. Conscious and intentional. Orion had been impossibly open, trusting, and Astarion didn’t even have the ability to be fully aware during it. The half-elf had offered everything to him, the first person he had ever drank from, and given that again during his own first time? Years of doing this and it was novel that Astarion had ever felt like the other person was there because of him and not just for their own pleasure. Not just using the vampire’s looks as a means to an end. It could have been awful, and he feels like Orion would have been just as happy, if only to have his undivided attention for the night. More frightening a thought than that, Astarion felt the same way. 

Orion reaches forward to flip the newly added log again, half eaten away and glowing red in the middle now, but the edge still outside of the flame is safe. When it burns his hand anyway, he lets it. “I’m not sure what I did to impress you like that, but… I’m glad I did. It was special to me, too. Um.” His face is burning now, hoping that leaning this close to the fire will be a suitable excuse for it. “Ah, I don’t know, Astarion, I just don’t want things to be weird now. It’s like a trade, right? I was your first bite, you were my first bedding.” “Right, a trade.” even now, Orion’s worried about him. Astarion wishes he could escape, undo it all, go back to that night and try his damndest to do it all over again. But would he even be capable of that? Or had he become too tainted, doomed to poison everything he touched?

They sit in silence for another moment while Orion pretends like the fire needs tending. When he can’t distract himself with that any more, he sits back and crosses his legs. An intentional gap of cold space between them. Astarion chooses to fill it with words. “You said you didn’t want me to think less of you - why would I do that?” “Because I don’t want you to ever think I’d let you go so easily.” 

The vampire falls straight into survival mode. It’s so much, too much vulnerability, openness, a security he doesn’t know how to handle because these words had always been lies. To face it as a truth when he was not worthy of it, he doesn’t know how to manage it without retreating again. Of course, he’s a professional at hiding things by now, and would never let anyone know how things inside of him are ripping apart all over again. “Really? I’m surprised, I figured we’d go back home and you could discover your true love, someone fair and just as feel-good as you are. Of course, you’d never forget me though. So, when you get bored with them, I’m always here to be a lovely little affair.” Orion smiles, but shakes his head in disbelief, “No.” Astarion is begging for this to not be true, for him to change his mind and validate all of his fears, but of course he doesn’t. They continue to hurtle forward into unexplored, undeserving territory that he can’t handle. “No matter where we go, I don’t want you to end up as just my ‘sort of’.”

Why him? He was a desecrator, a manipulator, and it was so obvious. Why didn’t Orion just run? Why didn’t he? Drawn in, intoxicated, heart fluttering in a way that only promised pain and ruin, Astarion only leans closer and accepts that eventually they’ll both just have to face the hurt. Fine, let them both burn, for this moment, for everyone they had shared before, whether he’s able to actually be there for it or not, he’s powerless to stop this from tumbling into destruction. But for now, he can postpone it a little longer. “I… think I would like that. One day. When we’re not fighting for our lives, maybe. But for now, let’s just have fun with ‘sort of’.”

[apoptoses]

Aww I'm sorry to hear that! Glad to have dropped by your inbox at the right time, it’s always a pleasure🥹

Totally! I think that once they made up and got back together, the idea of getting a place they could call their own became inevitable to them (I mean TG is home but there’s a stuffiness and formality about it that sometimes doesn’t suit them as a couple and it’s something that both of them would be aware of and want to fix imo). Love nests scaretted around the city? The perfect solution, and it’s also a callback to their first years together only this time Daniel is not losing his mind about it (or his keys but lbr he’s probably still losing those sometimes).

“Armand is totally right. Daniel living here full time will last like three weeks tops and it'll become their getaway spot but it's fine, it'll be a fun and chaotic three weeks at least” lmao exactly, it’ll be their version of dating for a few weeks before moving in together and it’s probably something they both need to do after their time apart. Also that bit about Daniel wanting to do it so it doesn’t feel like he’s someone’s replacement is great too. It was never about Louis moving out so Daniel could move in, and of course Armand knows it but it’s important Daniel knows it too. Everyone has their place in Armand’s heart and home.

“I already have an idea for an ot3 fic to come after it” I meaaan any combination of names here make the possibility of an ot3 fic written by you irresistible xoxo DA ❤️

I mean TG is home but there’s a stuffiness and formality about it that sometimes doesn’t suit them as a couple and it’s something that both of them would be aware of and want to fix imo

Right! It would take a while before Daniel could go over there and feel comfortable with being like '...we gotta redecorate, I need more than three rooms in this house where I don't worry about getting paint on the rug' (to which, happily, everyone else living at TG agrees on and is all for). Moving into someone else's established home is hard and can be strange, and as happy as Armand would be to do anything that makes Daniel feel at home it would be a minute before Daniel himself might feel like he can make those demands.

It was never about Louis moving out so Daniel could move in, and of course Armand knows it but it’s important Daniel knows it too. Everyone has their place in Armand’s heart and home.

Exactly! And I think they need this space so that Daniel can transition into living with Louis and whoever else ends up at TG long term. Polyamory is a big change for someone who had Armand to himself for decades. And sure they're all friends and there's room in Armand's heart for everyone, but there's a learning curve and I think it would take a minute for everyone settle into their roles.

I meaaan any combination of names here make the possibility of an ot3 fic written by you irresistible

I hope so!! I think it's pretty obvious who it'll be (after all, someone keeps getting brought up in this fic even though they're not in New Orleans...) but I just hope I set it up right by the end 🥹 Because Daniel deserves to have someone else to go out with if Armand has Louis, and someone who Armand is interested in himself so they can share.