#and both times when he does something kind of stupid

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.7. PRACTICING

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . just for me by pinkpantheress

if he’s honest, he doesn’t remember her last olympic performance very well.

of course, she's had other programs since then that he's seen, and it didn't really matter. the last olympics was years ago and she was always changing, always improving, always doing something.

it was something he admired about her. while he was fine with the bare minimum and doing just enough to stay busy or get by, there was always some opportunity she was auditioning or registering for. it had been that way since their time in high school, where on top of her own sport she’d help out on the volleyball team, come watch his games, and make sure he’d finished his assignments by the day they were due. he couldn’t deny that her habits had rubbed off on him; she was part of the reason why he had taken up streaming, why he had stuck with it through the rough patches, and why he was trying his best in school (albeit with a little bit of support because sometimes it was a pain in the ass).

what did remembering her last olympics performance have to do with anything?

he wanted to remember it. something other than her dress being a passionate red that matched her personality well and the black color it slowly faded into. a part of him still selfishly thinks maybe she chose those colors because it was his volleyball team’s colors too. the only other memory that comes to mind is atsumu's hands on her hips, and he doesn't want to linger on that.

he doesn’t remember what song they did, or anything about their actual program. he could watch it, but he doesn’t want to hear the commentators say anything stupid about “how well they work together” or worse, a criticism. he doesn’t want to see her little score go up ever so often and how it compares to others, because if he was in charge of judging he’d easily give her the highest scores for every element.

that's another thing he remembers; she’s flawless. she puts in so much time and effort into everything she does, practicing for hours on and off the rink. sure, she skims the ice and sometimes her landings just barely miss perfect precision–she’s complained about every single tiny mistake she’s ever noticed to him–but she’s always handled those little slip-ups so well he never would've paid another thought towards them if she hadn't mentioned them. every one of her movements has a special kind of unmistakable grace, her eyes looking brightly toward the future. it was similar to shoyo and how far he had clambered up into the world, yet it was never enough for him and he was always searching for a new way to do something. they were both such beautifully optimistic people, and perhaps he attracted those kinds of people in order to balance out his own apathy.

when it came to her, sometimes that apathy fell away completely. he wasn’t lying when he had told her that he often got distracted by her. in general, really, but especially when she skated. he enjoyed coming to her practices which had been a lot more often when he was younger and didn't have streams and homework to worry about. more times than not, he had chosen to sit on the sidelines over the comfort of his home. he would bring his switch or sometimes just his phone to play on but only until she started. he always set his device down completely as soon as she was on the ice, entranced by her every movement.

today would be no different, and he would sit with composure through anything atsumu tried. he had to keep reminding himself that partners were always touchy. they had to be touchy. he was stupid to even consider it that; it was integral to the performance that they grabbed onto each other and trusted their partner in order to execute their tricks.

he had his own plans of making atsumu jealous after all, he just had to keep thinking about that instead.

as soon as y/n was out of class, they took the train to the rink. he listened to her talk about her day as they rode. he had skipped school so he didn’t have much to offer her back. they held hands when he noticed someone taking a picture of them, and then for a little while longer until they separated as they approached the ice rink she was practicing at. 

they stopped in front of it as she started to explain something before she decided to just grab his hand once again to lead him inside, guiding him to where he could sit while she continued to talk. he tried to listen to what she said instead of thinking about their hands. she was obviously excited as she explained the ice rink to him; some kind of long history and something about how the roof had just been redone.

he would have paid more attention if he hadn’t seen the blonde approaching them, and her words died down as she noticed him only a second later.

atsumu neared with a smile as nonchalant as always, hands shoved into some black jacket over his athletic shorts. he took one fist out, holding it towards him as he nodded in acknowledgment.

“kozume. i don’t think we’ve seen each other since high school, right? how’ve ya been?”

he forgot he had even known atsumu in high school when he'd been twice the dick, a volleyball player and figure skater.

his face almost cringed for a number of reasons. he forced himself to return the fist bump while his mind buzzed with annoyance simply due to atsumu's voice. “yeah. good to see you,” he forced the words out of his mouth.

y/n had stiffened up next to him and he rubbed a thumb along the back of her hand. he almost wanted to kiss her now just to start something but it wasn't the right time. before either of them could say anything else atsumu’s gaze slid towards y/n. his smile didn’t change at all, he only gave her a wink. “see ya on the ice, y/n.”

it wasn't anything special. he winked at anyone he saw as a greeting. the only thing it was good for was making her feel uncomfortable. but moreover, using her name rather than a pet name wasn't the norm for him. whether it was because kenma was around or because he was backing off (as a part of his plan or genuinely), she’d have to decide later.

 he hadn’t hinted at anything fake yet and he was as calm as ever even upon seeing kenma who had come without any prior notice.

she had been holding her breath without even noticing and exhaled, feeling the tension break in the air as the blond walked away. “well, now that that moment's been ruined, i’ll go change. you can sit over there if you want and i’ll see you later,”  she told kenma, giving his hand a squeeze before she let go and followed in the same direction as atsumu.

they came on together later in one of the outfits he’d seen in the latest post of some ice skating account. they took their time warming up while he took his seat near a chair with a folder on it. y/n glanced often in his direction as she passed by and he would always give her a smile which seemed to make her smile and whole appearance brighten and she’d speed up a little.

the sound of footsteps near him drew his attention away from the rink and he turned to look up at a man who was already looking back at him. he didn’t seem very old, maybe in his late 20s or early 30s. his blonde hair was pushed back by a headband, easily revealing the double piercing on his left ear.

this was her coach if he wasn't mistaken. hadn't she described him as a “pretty princess?"

kenma could only stare at him, waiting for him to say something. he wasn't entirely sure what part of "princess" y/n saw in him, but maybe he had a nice personality under his initial appearance.

then he took out a cigarette and lit it, throwing that thought out the window.

he continued to look at kenma as if he was trying to remember something while he blew out a puff of smoke. whenever someone gave him that stare it was because they were trying to remember where they’d seen him. it was either going to be “aren’t you that boy that plays the games?” (mostly grandmas) or “don’t you play volleyball?” (bonus points if they say something about nationals or “you’re with that guy with the weird spiky hair, right?"). 

“didn’t you play volleyball in highschool?” he finally decided.

“yeah. i’m kenma,” he answered, unsure of what else to say. a pause later, he stuck out his hand–wasn’t this what people did when they met each other? he wouldn’t know.

“ukai,” the man responded, shaking his hand. “did you play for nekoma or something? went to nationals? y/n made me watch your game, i’m pretty sure,” he sat down near him, picking up his folder and flipping through it.

should he have known more about ukai? other than what y/n called him?

“yeah, i did,” kenma said, averting his eyes to the floor.

“you were their setter?” ukai asked, quirking a brow at him. when kenma nodded he continued, “yeah i’ve definitely heard about you. pretty sure y/n said you were her favorite or something.”

she skated by just as he mentioned her name, giving kenma a small wave.

he waved back, “oh, really?”

ukai watched her skate by as well before looking back down at his folder, “i won't ever forget it. she yelled it at me almost every time she saw you when we watched that game. what, are you guys dating now? thought i saw you walk in with her holding her hand and all that shit.”

another cloud of smoke left his mouth with his last sentence and kenma's face slightly warmed. when he put it like that, it made them sound childish. and how often did she talk about him? what else had she said?

“whatever,” ukai continued, looking towards him again, “i don’t mind you being here. she likes you and you seem like a nice enough guy. make sure you’re good to her. there’d be hell to pay if you break her heart, and not just from me. she’s got some pretty memorable friends too, i'm sure you know them. one of them comes here often to watch, i think he even came with us when partners were being announced.” they were a few seats away and ukai patted the seat next to him, “here, sit closer. i’ll explain their choreography to you.”

kenma was a little hesitant at first, unsure if he wanted to be that close to y/n’s coach (and his smoke) but if ukai already knew so much about him, at least kenma would learn more about him and y/n's performance.

just as he moved seats, y/n and atsumu had made their way towards the center of the rink and ukai was yelling directions at them from his seat.

he flinched at the volume but tried his best to pay attention to what ukai was saying and their movements as speakers overhead began to play a song.

ukai sat back farther in his seat the cigarette falling limp between his teeth as they began while kenma remained upright. “you know a little bit about skating, right?” he asked.

he knew the basics, which was probably all ukai was asking about but it wasn’t good enough for kenma, he felt like he should've know more about her sport before coming here. “yeah. just a bit,” kenma shrugged. 

ukai didn’t seem disappointed in his answer and continued to watch the pair in front of them skate. as the hours passed, he had pointed out certain tricks they did, explaining how they’d be rated, how important their footing actually was, and how impressive they really were.

kenma had walked into this rink planning to be as calm and passive as possible towards atsumu, yet everytime he saw atsumu's hands run along her and brush past her skin he felt like he wanted to tear hair out. he'd already told himself it was normal–this was how they had to be, he had to have that hand on her thigh–but it didn’t make the stress in his chest any lighter.

kenma watched as atsumu placed her back on the ground for only a split second before his hands were on her hips again as he lifted and twisted her into the air. it all happened so fast that when he heard her yelp, kenma wasn’t even sure what had happened. he still hadn't processed what had went wrong before atsumu caught her, both of them almost tumbling onto the ice.

her hand was gripped tightly around his arm, their faces inches from each other. she was staring wide eyed into his eyes, her body still trying to catch up to what had just happened. she’d been so close to hitting the ice she thought for sure she was about to land and injure something–probably her shoulder that had twisted oddly at some point in the rotation.

atsumu was breathing just as heavily, his arms still around her torso. he was leaned over her as if he had just dipped her and they stayed in that position for a moment until they had both recovered and he helped her stand back up. he was grinning at her as he removed his hands from her. “you alright there? that was my fault, sorry i scared ya.”

she was still trying her best to calm her heart back down when she replied breathlessly, “yeah–i'm good. it was probably my fault, i don’t think i was close enough to you, sorry. thanks for catching me.” she returned his smile before skating off to ukai who was leaned over the railing asking how they both were.

atsumu followed after her and kenma watched them both approach. atsumu didn’t even bat an eye in his direction, which probably was a good thing. he wasn’t sure exactly how he looked but he was pretty sure he was staring daggers into him.

kenma tuned back into ukai's conversation with y/n as he stepped away from the railing, “that’s enough for today, you guys can come off the ice and go home. take it easy on your shoulder, you got it, y/n?"

she nodded with a sigh, rolling her right shoulder before she turned her gaze towards kenma, a smile on her face as she moved towards the opening in the rail. he offered a hand as she stepped off the ice onto the ground. she took his hand, sighing again before she talked in a quiet voice to him, “it was going super well until the end, sorry you came on a day where we messed up that twist, we’d been doing pretty good, too.” her lips were pursed into a small pout and he couldn’t help but smile.

atsumu was coming off the ice after her and it felt like the perfect time to do it.

he pushed a stray hair behind her ear and cupped the side of her face to grab her attention. “hey,” she looked up at him, one hand reaching up to hold the hand that he had on her face, “you did good, mistake and all”

he leaned closer, closing the gap between them and he felt the way her body stiffened and the noise of surprise she made before she pressed back against him. her lips still felt cold from being on the ice for so long, and it was a welcome contrast to his own temperature. he found he actually quite liked it a lot. the steps behind her went silent and kenma couldn’t resist opening his eyes to see atsumu’s reaction.

to his dismay, atsumu only looked surprised by the kiss, but there wasn’t any hint of anger or jealousy in his eyes. when atsumu noticed that he was looking, he only winked and gave him a smile that looked as if he supported the two.

when she pulled away from him, she followed his eyes to look at atsumu and her face flushed a light pink. moving quickly past kenma without another word, she unlaced her skates at a nearby bench before she disappeared down the row.

neither him nor atsumu said anything. they only stared at each other for a moment longer, atsumu still wearing a pasifistic smile before he followed after y/n.

he hadn’t hinted at pretending at all yet but in kenma’s mind there was no way he supported y/n and him. what was his goal?

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

this is another chapter i split up bc it was a little long so apologies if the beginning of the next chapter seems a little choppy 😔

AND if my writing sucks idk why it suddenly feels so foreign,, this is that identity fraud imposter thing people get coming in at full force

yes kenma calls atsumu by miya in his texts BUT in the written portion atsumu sounds better than miya imo and i NEED it to sound good </3 NAMES ARE SO HARD I HATE THEM SOMETIMES

I sit in the corner of my room with my little computer and type my silly little hyphens and semicolons please leave me be (I'm talking to my own brain)

while they were texting, kenma really wanted to say something like "yes i'll come to your practice, i want to support my friend" but he physically could not bring himself to refer to y/n as just a friend

y/n was trying her best to respond normally and casually when kenma asked if he could kiss her but she was screaming on the inside to herself during class

iwa showed up at noya's dorm demanding to know what happened bc no one (suna) would tell him. noya was literally shaking but tsukki did not give a single fuck and opened the door to let iwa in

y/n got excited everytime kenma smiled at her if u couldn't tell

atsumu has a phd in gaslight gatekeep girlboss

ukai is such a father figure for y/n and kenma is definitely on his way to getting his approval

i've decided to make kageyama a very important character in this smau because i am in love with him (this will come into play in like 8 chapters lmao)

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @r0seandth0rns @gsyche @kitnootkat @seillarium @tamimemo @myromanempiree @coldcigarette @eclipticnikki @squiishymeow @vivian-555 @cryptictheseus @eclecticeggknightpsychic @kodzukein @kawaii-angelanne @luvly-writer @kodzuken-hoe @kodzuken88 @bookworm-center @theweirdfloatything (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Tim and Sylvia Friendship Headcanons

-They both met at Buck’s when they were ten years old, Tim having just started dealing and Sylvia flirting with the old drunks at the bar so she could pickpocket them. Tim noticed how much money she was getting and tried to shake her down for it but when he flipped open his switch she just laughed at him and pulled out one of her own. They’ve been best friends ever since, even though it took ages for Tim to admit it

-Sylvia is the only person who can call him ‘Timmy’ without getting slugged and it’s mostly because she wore him down.

-Sylvia is a con artist extraordinaire and Tim’s a gang leader and somehow they know everything and nothing about each other at the same time

-Almost everyone in Tulsa thinks they’re an item/have hooked up at least once but their relationship has only ever been 100% platonic. Even if Tim wasn’t gay and Sylvia was capable of love they both just couldn’t ever look at each other that way

-Tim thought HE had a good poker face but his is nothing compared to Sylvia’s. The only thoughts or feelings people can read from Sylvia are the ones she wants them to 

-They both have a radar for when Curly and/or Angela are about to get into trouble even though Sylvia is better at dealing with problems AFTER they arise whereas Tim is all about stopping them from happening in the first place

-Sylvia will occasionally disappear for a few days or a week and Tim never asks where she’s gone, but once she was gone for nearly two months and when she showed back up (twenty pounds lighter and with a newly stitched stab wound) he almost cried- he didn’t, but he did hug her and she actually let him

-Sylvia has been locked up almost as many times as Tim has, and they have a joking competition where they keep track. Whoever has the most tally marks each new years owes the other a pack of cigarettes. Tim had the title for three years in a row before Sylvia beat him and he was genuinely kind of upset about it (mostly because she kept making smart remarks about him becoming a ‘model citizen’ and he has a reputation to keep)

-Curly got the idea to play chicken with Ponyboy from Sylvia because he overheard her make an offhand comment about she and her cousins used to do it

-Sylvia originally went on a date with Dallas Winston because she knew it would piss of Tim, and then kept going out with him because of curiosity (y’know that meme that’s like ‘i wanna study you in a lab but also share fries with you’- that’s how Sylvia views Dally)

-Tim also warned Dally he had no idea what he was getting into when he asked Sylvia out but he obviously didn’t listen 

-we all know Dally & Sylvia we’re a toxic ass couple, and I think a huge contributing factor is that Sylvia played dumb but she was actually way smarter than Dally ever gave her credit for so every time he thought he had her figured out, she’d do something or say something that would shake up how he saw her and it made him feel stupid (which we all know he hated) but also made him more desperate to figure her out 

-Sylvia thinks the Curtis brothers are strange and avoids them as much as possible because they’re genuinely upstanding guys and she’s not used to people who aren’t just out for themselves

-Sylvia lives in six inch stilettos and they make her the same height as Tim (Sylvia is already tall for a girl) and it annoys him to no end

-Sylvia and Steve absolutely loathe each other but because they’re both friends with Angela they try to be civil when she’s around. Tim finds Sylvia’s ire at the guy endlessly funny

-Sylvia was the first person to find out about Tim being gay. He was terrified but she just rolled her eyes and told him to hide his magazines better 

-Tim is the only person who knows anything about Sylvia’s parents that isn’t rumour based speculation, and he will take those secrets to his grave

-Sylvia was originally HORRIFIED when she realised Tim had a thing for Darry Curtis because she does NOT trust that guy he is too nice to not be hiding some dark secret. It’s the only time Tim didn’t at least take her advice into consideration (and Sylvia was eventually forced to grudgingly admit she was wrong about this one)

-Sylvia is a better marksman than Tim, but Tim is more patient than Sylvia, so when they go hunting Tim bags more animals, but when they’re target shooting Sylvia always has a better score

[bamboozled-shenanigans]

Huskerdust first time request!

And when I say that they would flirt and be fluffy at the exact same time and spontaneously be nervous as SHIT and NERVOUS they’re so stupid 😭🙏🏾🙏🏾

I love your writing style, I can’t wait to see how you write this! Thank you! <33

Note: Thank you so much for requesting something!!! It really means a lot to me, so thank you endlessly 🫶🫶🫶

Here’s 1500 words of fluffy/smutty Huskerdust! This prompt was honestly perfect, because I just know their first time would be so nerve-wracking for both of them until they realize that they can just lose themselves in each other 🥺 they make me sick /pos

Enjoy!!! (Oneshot under the cut)

    It’s only been a few minutes, but Angel already knows two things— one, Husk is so good at kissing it should be illegal, and two, things are about to escalate much further than just that if Husk keeps on doing what he’s doing.

    He’s so gentle with the way he kisses him, almost as if he’s testing the waters, and Angel feels the energy between them go straight down to his core. He pulls the other man as close as he can, sighing into the kiss, his face on fire and a soft smile tugging at his lips.

    It could be minutes or hours that they’ve been making out, but Angel doesn’t know— and, quite frankly, he doesn’t care. He’s perfectly content to stay like this forever, basking in the success of his confession (and, hey, kissing Husk isn’t too bad of an outcome, either).

    They pull apart momentarily, and Angel smiles wider as Husk plants one more quick kiss on his jaw.

    “You know, you aren’t too bad at this, Whiskers,” the spider teases, and Husk chuckles as he moves in for the second time.

    This time, the kiss is softer than ever, quiet breaths and hands tangled softly in hair, the two of them wrapped up in each other even closer. Angel blushes further; god, how invincible Husk makes him feel. He’s just about to pull back again, perhaps make a cheeky comment or two, when he notices something that makes his eyes widen and his face go a tomato-like red.

    Oh, shit. Husk is hard. It’s really no wonder, with the way the two of them are pressed against each other, but his cheeks still burn with surprise and a tad bit of shame. Way to ruin things real fast, Anthony.

    Husk seems to notice thjs predicament at the same time he does, and his eyes widen slightly, his face flushing as well. “Huh,” he remarks, somehow summoning the audacity to shoot Angel an amused look. “That’s…”

    “Oh- I, uh-“ Angel stammers. “Sorry about that. I can, uh, go for a sec, if you want some time alone—“ he blinks once, finding an opportunity and seizing it. “Or…”

    Husk doesn’t meet his eye, still blushing red. Angel finds it strangely adorable, and he presses a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t mind, if you want to do this.”

    The air around them goes from sweet to charged with energy, though Angel can’t quite tell what kind. Husk brushes a hand across his cheek, and it’s then that Husk seems to make a decision, and nods.

    “Only if you’re fine with it.” Husk’s hand comes to rest on Angel’s waist, holding him close. Angel nods and swallows, smiling warmly at Husk.

    “Are ya crazy? I ain’t never turnin’ down this.” He leans down and presses his mouth to Husk’s again, opening it slightly so he can push his tongue inside.

    He tastes like brandy and sugar, warm and inviting, and his embrace is just as sweet. Angel shivers as Husk’s mouth moves down to his jaw, his eyes half-lidded and sharp.

    “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Angel laughs, and Husk just holds him closer in response.

    “Me too, Angel,” he murmurs, and Angel feels the wind nearly get knocked out of his lungs at how sincere the older man sounds— he’s never heard that tone of voice in his entire existence, not from any number of partners he’s been with, for business or simply on the side.

    Husk’s hand slides up his shirt almost cautiously, and Angel gives a small groan of approval. The other’s hands run across his bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

    He’s absolutely breathless, dizzy with anticipation, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. Slowly, he grinds down onto Husk’s lap, eliciting a light gasp from the both of them at the pressure. 

    Fuck, am I really about to do this? 

    Of course, ‘this’ is nothing new to him, in the practical sense. He'd been in this position plenty of times before, but right now? He just can’t help but feel that this is different. Is it the fact that Husk is so gentle with him, so calm and trustworthy? Is it how late it is at night now, or his previous confession, or…

    That doesn’t matter now, though, as Husk reaches up to unbutton his shirt, snapping him clean out of his thoughts. Shifting in his lap to give him more access, Angel pulls back to admire the look on his face, one of both concentration and impatience combined. 

    “Excited?” he teases, and Husk rolls his eyes playfully as the shirt finally comes off, throwing the garment to the side and leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the collarbone.

    “Say, Whiskers, Id’a never thought you of all people would be so eager to— fuck!” Angel gasps and sucks in a breath as Husk presses a kiss to the sensitive skin on his jawline, sending a jolt of surprise through his body.

    Husk nibbles once more at his collar, smiling. “That’s the plan, sweetheart,” he retorts, earning a smack on the arm from Angel.

    “Aw, shut your face an’ kiss me.” Angel tilts his head as their lips connect again, sighing as he lets him run his hands through the soft hair on his chest. Husk’s hand dips to his waist, just for a moment, but Angel can sense the question there— may I?

    “Please,” he breathes out, his heartbeat going wild in his chest. He’s this close to losing his regular bravado, but if he’s honest? He doesn’t care. Husk has seen him like this before, seen Anthony instead of Angel Dust, seen him at his worst and at his very best… So why not see him now?

    Husk shrugs out of his own clothing before helping Angel out of the rest of his, letting out a small whistle at the sight of him. Angel blushes and averts his eyes as he lays back on his elbows, feeling shy all of a sudden despite how often he’s been bare like this.

    “You’re beautiful,” Husk whispers against his jaw, his hands roaming across the other’s body. They slip lower, lower, lower, stopping just below his navel. “Can I…”

    Angel feels the entire room melt away around him, leaving just him, Husk, and the question he’s been asked hanging in the air. He nods, letting out a small chuckle and brushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he says, half disbelieving the luck he’s had tonight and half scared out of his mind. “Go ahead.”

    Husk kisses him on the lips as he slides a single finger into his entrance, and Angel gasps and arches his back. It’s odd, since he’s not normally so sensitive, but he’s definitely not complaining— and neither is Husk, from the look on his face. He twists his hand, eliciting another soft cry from the spider. 

    “Oh, shit— Who the hell taught you to do that?” Angel pants, and Husk merely laughs and kisses him again, continuing to pump his fingers inside him, another one of his fingers entering him as he circles his clit.

    Angel’s surprisingly quiet, for having a job that requires him to be so vocal, but each small sound he makes as Husk does his work is more intoxicating than anything else could ever be. Just as he gets close to the edge, an oh-so-familiar twinge twisting in his gut, Husk pulls back and looks him in the eye. 

    “Is it alright if I do more?” Husk asks, making sure Angel keeps eye contact. Angel nods, smiling, and kisses him again.

    “Trust me, if I don’t like it, I’ll stop ya.” Angel’s voice is soft, slightly hoarse, but he makes sure he’s heard. He hears just a slight bit of rustling as Husk positions himself, and then—

    “Fuck”. Angel lets out a shaky moan, clinging onto Husk and closing his eyes. “Oh- oh, god,” he breathes, kissing him again as they both adjust to the new feeling.

    Husk’s lips on his feel so familiar, as if he’s kissed him a million times before, and Angel lets himself sink into the other man’s embrace as he draws him closer, their bodies intertwined. Slowly, Husk moves further inside him, his mouth swallowing the strangled groan that Angel chokes out as he begins to set a slow but even pace.

    It feels like something straight out of one of his shoots— though this time, he doesn’t have to fake his pleasure. It feels as if waves of a feeling suspiciously like fire are rolling over him, and he lets himself succumb, lost in bliss as he nears the edge.

    “You close, Legs?” Husk pants out, tilting Angel’s chin so he’ll look him in the eye.

    “Y-yeah, I am.” The words are shaky.

    “Me too.”

    Husk kisses him, passionate and deep, and with one final thrust, they both topple over the edge. It’s a high like Angel’s never felt, sober or otherwise, like climbing Mount Everest and then jumping right off, knowing there’s someone at the bottom of the summit to catch him all the same. Husk plops down on his chest, pulling out, and they simply stay as their breathing calms and they both come down.

    “Holy fuck.” Angel lets out a laugh, stroking the top of Husk’s head. “That was…”

    “Earth-shattering?” Husk laces their fingers together. “Agreed.” 

    Angel’s eyelids are heavy, and Husk seems to notice— he reaches for the bed’s blanket and pulls it over them, cuddling close to Angel and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

    “We should probably clean up,” Angel whispers, but neither of them move. Eh, we’ll get it tomorrow. 

    As he begins to drift off, Angel can’t help but be grateful for that letter he’d written— and for every single thing in his afterlife that had led to this moment, to the love of his life dozing peacefully with him in his arms, warm and secure. 

    “I love you,” he whispers, planting a kiss on Husk’s forehead.

    “I love you too, Anthony,” Husk murmurs back, and then they both fall into a deep, peaceful sleep, their bodies and hearts intertwined.

[peoplesgraves]

Yandere Beetlejuice X Reader X Yandere Lydia Headcanons

•Beetlejuice is so so stupid. He is old as dirt and is still just dumb as a rock, absolute clown baby. You might think it's mostly weaponozed incompetence, and he definetih wings you to think that but it is a ruse from a very dumb man.

•Chances are you like Beetlejuice/are nicer. more so than Lydia even if by a tiny margin so of course he clings to you as his 'favorite spouse' (yes it's true but also he wants to makes Lydia jealous which of course doesn't work.) he 100% expects to be babied by you and of course as a witness/participant to his mischief and schemes. Every time Lydia is mean to him he comes crying to you, he would never be mean to either of you but he will force everyone to head about it for the next 10 business days.

•Lydia is kinda borderline yandere. If she didn't have Beetlejuice around, juicin the place up then she would've had a normal relationship with you. She's still super lucid and feels bad about it and is very tame but she finds herself letting Beetlejuice run wild 'behind her back' more and more. Plus she likes comforting you after one of his rampages.

•So many coordinated outfits. Lydia doesn’t have the patience to do it for you guys but she does appreciate Beetlejuices, reverently picked outfit choices. Though maybe less so when he ‘forgets’ to give you pants.

•They probably throw balls mixed with a disco. Something goth and moody and then just a side room with a disco ball and rainbow lights. Can’t decide if they’d do it just for the three of you, for some strange humans or for other spirits but either way, Beetlejuice will be doing the cha cha slide and losing his head. Please laugh at him, he’s trying so hard!

•If you started to get really ornery and tried to leave them then I think Lydia would find a way to bind you to the town model. Beetlejuice would hate it because he remembers how it was but Lydia convinced him it’s fine because you’re not alone in there, you have them.

•You have to marry both of them. Lydia actually doesn’t carry about marriage and thinks it’s kind of a dumb construct but she refuses to just be your girlfriend while Beetlejuice gets to be your husband. Beetlejuice would marry both of you but ya know…just know Beetlejuice will lie, scheme and haunt to marry you so hopefully you have enough wedding plans for two!

[rainychaoloveshack]

when you have the chance and burnout stops being a bitch, can you do sonic or scourge x a mermaid girlfriend? I’m okay with both headcannons and story stuff.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ “𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐡-𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐬”.  𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠 & 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

sonic and scourge have a secret mermaid lover, set right in their cove.

synopsis. sonic and scourge x gn!mermaid!reader, reader’s a little worrywart, reader might also be a little “animalistic”, teasing, smoking, fluff

☂︎ wc. around 600 each drabble. ☂︎ a/n. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! this was super duper fun to write! i know the OG request said "girlfriend", but i found as i was writing it i hadn't mentioned pronouns at all. sorry if that's upsetting :( also sorry this took so long! i had originally made it some HC’s, but i thought some drabbles would fit better ;)

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

Sonic

You keep on telling Sonic not to talk with his mouth full, but he just doesn’t listen, does he? What if he chokes? Oh…

“Mmfh-” Sonic grumbles out between a mouthful of fish, waving away your concerned gesture with a small smile. Another assortment of grumbles follow, before he finally swallows his food and looks over at you with bright eyes. “Aw man, don’t worry, I’ll be fine!”

Hmph. You take a small piece of fish off the plate you two prepared for each other, popping the piece in your mouth as your tail slaps onto the shore.

After coming back from one of his adventures, Sonic had always come to visit you in your cove, always excited to see and hear what you’ve been up to in his absence, though it was never much. He was the only exciting thing in your life as of late. To lighten things up for you two, and to introduce him to your sea-like cuisine, a picnic was the only option to have, no?

He introduced you to this dish called a “chili dog”, one of, if not, his favorite dish of all time.

For good reason, too. It was delicious. 

You lay your body down, resting your head in your arms as you look up at your boyfriend, watching him stuff himself silly with a chili dog he brought.

“Mmfg, [Name],” he says, muffled through his chewing, and you scowl. “Next time, let’s-” What did you just say about that? 

“Ah, okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Sonic laughs, relishing at the attention you’re giving him with your tail as you splash him with small amounts of water rising to the shore, watching every small droplet cling onto his quills and seep into his fur. “Aw man, you really like to mess with me, huh?” Sonic slips the last bit of his chili dog into his mouth, stuffing his cheeks with the meal. Ah, he looks a little bit like a chipmu-

Suddenly, a burst of water hits your face harshly, and as you try to open your eyes to your assailant, he hits you again, making you utter a small stream of curses his way.

“Doesn’t feel too great, huh?” Sonic laughs, swallowing the last bit of his food as you slap your tail angrily at the shore, splashing small bits of water around. “Or maybe it does for you? Y’know, the whole mermaid gist.” This little idiot.

“Aw, c’mon, you know I’m joking.” Sonic grins, reaching over to rub your cheek affectionately as you nip at his thumb, pulling the glove aggressively. Stupid, stupid, stupid silly hedgehog…

He seems to pause, opening his mouth to say something, yet nothing comes out. Sonic’s eyes soften as you stop nipping at his thumb, curious to what he has to say.

“One day, I’ll get you out of this cove, alright? Really.” He says to you, holding your other hand in his as his thumb rubs over your fingers. “I promise. I’ll take you with me everywhere; on all sorts of adventures. You’ll be able to see all the cool things I see, and meet all kinds of people!” Your brows wrinkle, yet an unstoppable smile spreads on your face as you nod at his statement. 

Oh, to get out of here, and see the world with him…

What a dream.

“I promise I’ll make that dream come true.”

Scourge

“Hey, fish-sticks.” A shiver crawls up your spine at the sudden voice, turning to see who it is, although you already know the answer. Ugh. What the hell did you tell him about that name?

“What?” Scourge sees the frown on your face and grins, sitting down at a small rock ledge as you swim your way over to him, making sure to splash some water his way to show your dissatisfaction at his late arrival.  

He groans in annoyance, staring at you. “Ya don’t want me here all of a sudden?” It’s already dusk; he should’ve been here hours ago.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry ‘bout that, fish-cakes.” He mutters, shaking some water off his jacket, and wiping it off his quills. You watch him take off his red sunglasses, looking down at you curiously as you come up to the little ledge of water separating you two, flashing you that sharp, cheeky grin of his.

Ugh, this idiot…

You grumble incoherently, scratching at the rock ledge, spitting curses at him while he takes a seat, crossing his legs as he shuffles into his jacket pocket, pulling out a familiar box he’s taken out almost every time you two meet. Full of cigarettes; yuck.

“I won’t blow it yer way.” He takes a cigarette out of the pack, digging into his other pocket to pull out a small matchbox. The match strikes alight on the first swipe, and he holds the cigarette to his mouth, slowly letting it burn right at the bottom. Scourge almost dips the match into the water to extinguish it, but he catches your curious expression.

“Oh, yeah. Yer kind don't get to mess with fire.” His hand holds the lit match your way, letting you observe said flame slowly, and twisting it in between his thumb and index finger.

“Don’t know ya find this stuff interestin’. Weird one, aren’cha? You’ve seen it before already.” Despite his words, he seems pleased at your curiosity, careful not to let water drip onto it as he holds it closer. If only you could just…

“Ah,” he flinches the match back, away from your grasp, making you tilt your head in confusion. “Can’t let’cha do that.”

Why won’t he let you touch it? He always blows it out before you can grab it. You grumble, making another grabbing motion towards the lit match, accidentally splattering water over it. You let out a frustrated groan, sinking back down into the water, streams of bubbles forming around your mouth as you grumble, flicking your tail angrily.

“Tough luck, fish-sticks. Almost outta matches too.” He grins at your displeased gesture, bits of water flicking his way as he shows you the almost empty matchbox, two matches set snug against each other, then separating as he rattles it around. Scourge pauses, looking at you in silence for a few moments.

“... Maybe ya would like a candle. How bout’ that?” A candle? You turn your head at his suggestion, peering up as he draws in more smoke from his cigarette, blowing it out as he meets your eyes. “Think you’d like one, yeah? Have a little flame you can keep around.”

Your own personal fire…

You grin, setting your arms onto the ledge as you pull up, turning to tackle your boyfriend down into a soggy cuddle, tail slapping happily against the water.

“Agh-!” He scowls, the cigarette dropping out of his mouth and rolling into the water. “Damn it, fish-face. Get off me!” Scourge glares at you, but it doesn’t take a genius to notice how his hands aren’t pushing you off in any manner, and you take the golden chance to wrap your arms around him, taking extra care to not prick yourself on his quills.

“Damn, the shit I do and handle for ya. Getting my jacket all wet…”

[enhas-pov]

prisoner

summary: mafia sunghoon is way too overprotective and possessive over his girlfriend, he wants to keep her all to himself

warnings: kidnapping(?), swearing, yandere behaviour, stalking

word count: 2.1k

════════════════════════

when i said yes to being sunghoon’s girlfriend, this isn’t exactly what i expected. i thought he would take me out on dates, buy me flowers, ask me to marry him and maybe even have his kids, but no. i’ve been held captive in his home for 3 years now, sort of. he does allow me to go outside obviously but i have rules. i always have to be with his body guards, i’m not allowed to wear revealing clothing, no drinking, no smoking, and no interacting with others. i’m basically his prisoner. besides that, i almost never get to spend time with sunghoon. he’s always out doing illegal shit while i’m stuck at home all miserable. tho when he is home, he’s either too tired or stuck in his office doing whatever on that stupid computer of his.

i was sat in the living room watching a movie when i suddenly heard the sound of sunghoon’s voice. “hi baby” i felt him place a kiss on my temple before taking his coat off. “hi. how was your day?” i ask him, pausing what i was watching. “exhausting. how about you?” he sat down next to me, threw his head back on the couch and placed his legs on the coffee table. “boring as usual” i was sulking which made him pick his head up to look at me. “it’s been months since you last left the house, of course you’re bored” i wanted to tell him that i was tired of being treated like his very own doll, but i wasn’t sure if that would make him upset or not. i placed one of my legs over him and wrapped them both around is waist so that i was sat on his lap. he cocked his head at me before bringing his hands down to my waist, squeezing me. i wrapped my arms around his neck and brought my hands up to tug on his hair. “hoon.. i was wondering if maybe we could go out? just you and me, together. as a couple” i bit down on my lip, not sure of what he was gonna say. “you mean you want me to take you out on a date?” he raised his eyebrows at me before i nodded in response. “___. you know i’ve got a busy schedule“ i gave him a pouting look which made him sigh. “i’ll try to make some time for you tomorrow, okay? but no promises“ i felt my face lit up, i was so happy that i was finally gonna spend some quality time with my boyfriend. “i love you, hoon” smiling at me, he looked happy as well. “i love you too, princess”

i looked at myself in the mirror and couldn’t stop smiling. i finished doing my makeup, i was dressed and all ready to go on my date with sunghoon. as i made my way down the stairs, my smile dropped when i saw sunghoon stood with his bodyguards. i thought it was just gonna be the two of us? “sunghoon?” he turned around and a smile appeared on his face when he saw me. “you look beautiful, ___.” he walked towards me and placed a kiss on my forehead, i was still confused to why his bodyguards were here tho. “i thought WE were going out?” he looked a little embarrassed, like he didnt know what to say. “baby, listen. something came up, and i felt really bad so i thought you could still go out, just not with me..” is he serious? who doesn’t have time for their own girlfriend? i crossed my arms and rolled my eyes at him. “i’ll make it up to you, okay?” he tried to kiss me, but i faced the other way so his lips met my cheek. he pulled away disappointed, but still made his way to the door and left. whatever, i did my makeup and got dressed so i might as well make the best out of it. i looked over at the 3 bodyguards i was left with, heeseung, jake and niki. i pushed my way through them and made my way outside to where the car was parked. “here you go-“ jake was kind enough to open the car door for me but i was still pissed, so i slammed the door shut after me. heeseung and jake were sat in the front while niki was sat behind with me. “where would you like to go, ___?” heeseung asked me, who had started driving the car. i didn’t feel like talking, so i just shrugged my shoulders. “how about the city? it’s where you always wanna go” niki suggested. i turn to him and slightly nod before turning back. “the city it is”

i had been walking around and doing some shopping for about an hour now and i guess it wasn’t that bad, i did need new clothes and stuff. “hold this for me please, need to use the restroom” i handed the bodyguard my shopping bags and sprinted quickly to the bathroom. after i finished, i was washing my hands when i noticed the window being open to let the fresh air in. i stared at it for a couple seconds before i shook my head. jumping out the window and running away so i can finally be free? no, that’s just dumb. i love sunghoon, i don’t need to escape.. i dried my hands and was about to leave the restroom when i stopped. i looked back at the window again, should i? sunghoon basically controls me and everything i do, i want to be my own person.. fuck it. i walked over to the window and climbed my way out of here. the second my feet touched the grass, i started running. where to? don’t know.

“it’s been 15 minutes. should we check on her?” jake asked the two other bodyguards who were with him. “we can’t just barge in. it’s the ladies room after all” heeseung suggested that they should wait a little longer before doing something they might regret or get in trouble for. “sunghoon said that we should always keep an eye on her though. who spends 15 minutes in the restroom anyways?” niki who was holding her shopping bags asked. “women” heeseung responded. “look. i don’t want to walk in there and get accused of being a pervert if nothing’s wrong. but if something is wrong, all three of us will get in way more trouble” jake sounded concerned. was he worried about, ___. or was he scared of what sunghoon would do to him? “alright, but i’m not going in there” heeseung raised his hands. “and i have to carry these” niki waved the shopping bags that he was holding. when jake walked over to the ladies restroom and opened the door, he sighed in relief when no one was there. wait, no one? he started panicking and looking around to see if she was in any of the empty bathroom stalls, but she was nowhere to be found. “shit, shit, shit-“ he froze for a second when he noticed the window that was open. no she didn’t, he thought to himself. “guys” jake hurriedly walked back to heeseung and niki, you could see panic all over his face. “what? did you walk in on her?” niki and heeseung were laughing, but this wasn’t funny. “shut the fuck up, she’s not in there. i think she might’ve jumped out the window..” they went from laughing to going silent, their eyes widened. “what are we supposed to do?” niki asked, you could tell he was freaking out. “sunghoon is gonna kill us” jake said as he kept on walking back in forth. “calm down. you’re making this so much worse by panicking. let’s go around looking for her, and if we can’t find her then we HAVE to call sunghoon. got it?” after heeseung calmed the boys down, they quickly separated and started looking for ___ right away. unfortunately they were unsuccessful. there was no sign of ___, she was gone. and there sunghoon was, stood in front of heeseung, jake and niki who were lowering their heads in shame (and fear). “you’re telling me you just lost her?” sunghoon sounded surprisingly calm, considering his girlfriend was nowhere to be found. “she went to the restroom and- i think she escaped through the window..” jake was very much struggling to get his words out. sunghoon nodded and placed his hand on jake’s shoulder. “just be more careful next time” he left after that. the 3 boys were confused, was that it? they didn’t know that the reason to why sunghoon was so calm, was because he was tracking his girlfriends phone down which she always had on her.

“where am i..” i was in the woods somewhere, it was 12am and it was really dark. not gonna lie, i was kinda scared. suddenly, i felt a shiver run down my spine at the sound of footsteps. am i not here alone? who else would be in the woods at 12am. i started speeding up my pace when i heard the footsteps getting closer and louder. i froze when i heard my name being called out. “___, baby i know you’re out here. if you come back home with me i promise you won’t get in any trouble” sunghoon? how did he.. i knew sunghoon was overprotective and all but this? he’s lost it and he’s fucking insane. i was never really scared of him, only when he’s mad. but right now at this very moment, i was too scared to face him. i started running when i accidentally tripped over a stupid rock. when i tried to get back up, i was met with a tall figure stood over me. “are you trying to run away from me?” the way he was talking to me. he sounded different, it was making me uncomfortable. “sunghoon..” still sat on the ground, i was trying my best to back away but he would just slowly walk towards me. when my back hit a tree, he crouched down in front of me. “you shouldn’t have done that, you know?” he brought his hand up to my face, but i slapped it away. it wasn’t on purpose, i was just scared. he shook his head and chuckled before gripping my arm. it was starting to hurt, i kept on moving my arm around while he was just blankly staring at me. “let go!” i gasped when i had accidentally hit him across his face making him fall back. yelling at him and then hitting him? i was done for. “i-“ “fucking bitch..” i quickly got up before he did and started running again, i kept on looking behind me to see him chasing after me. being chased by my own boyfriend in the woods at 12am wasn’t the date i was expecting. when i no longer had a sight of sunghoon, i quickly hid behind some bushes. i sat down and put my knees up to my chest, i covered my mouth and all i had to do now was to wait. if he thought i left the woods he would leave too, right? i closed my eyes shut when i heard the sound of his voice, he was near me. “you can’t hide from me, ___!” he yelled out. i could hear the anger in his voice and it was really scaring me. i didn’t notice how i had tears rolling down my face until i accidentally let out a sob, and even tho i was covering my mouth it was loud enough to hear. it went completely silent, i didn’t hear his footsteps or his voice. was he finally gone?

“there you are” i jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, shit. i slowly looked up to see sunghoon stood over me with a smirk on his lips. “come on. get up” he reached his hand out for me to take, i knew that if i didn’t there would be consequences. and i had already fucked up badly. i put my shaky hand in his and he was quick to pull me back up on my feet. he pulled me in closer to him and hid his face in my neck while his hands were roaming all over my body. “i can’t trust you now” he leaned away from my neck and looked me in the eyes. the look he had on his face was cold. tense, maybe. scary? intimidating? i don’t know. “hoon, i’m sorry..” i was shaking and crying in his arms. “shhh. you will be” he placed a soft kiss on my lips before pulling away with a serious look on his face. he wasn’t planning on hurting me, right?

[vechter]

stupid question i know but omg...dick grayson...soldier poet or king?

hmm i can't say i've thought about this since i don't rlly use tiktok all that much anymore but probably a mix between poet and king?

the poet can slay with his tongue and his weapon is his word. one of dick's most interesting characteristics is his ability to hurt. he can be mean and twist the knife exactly to make it bleed:

it's worth noting that dick primarily only does this when he feels a major loss of control or he feels backed into a corner. it's a defence mechanism disguised as an offensive attack. (the panel about donna is iffy bc he was under brother blood's influence at the time if i remember correctly and all of outsiders is pretty much dick grieving using one shitty coping mechanism after another)

the primary characteristics of the poet are loneliness, strength and joy- all things that embody dick. he struggles with loneliness and self-imposed isolation, especially when he feels like he has failed. but luckily he usually has people around him to remind him he is not:

his will to do good, his kindness, to catch those who fall is what makes him such a trustworthy, competent and inherently good guy. his will power has even had him on the short-list for a GL ring (action comics #642). and dick's movements as a vigilante are filled with joy because the base for those is the acrobatics his parents taught him. he enjoys both flying and falling.

the poet thinks he is not enough. i won't even try to list all the times dick has thought he doesn't measure up- to his own expectations or bruce's but it is a very, very core part of dick grayson. but the rest of the world puts him on a pedestal and thinks he is more than enough.

and the bit about singing songs and hope? imagine the worst possible thing you can think of happening to you at age eight and you are the only survivor. but then a man/god/father swoops down and helps you bring justice to your parents' murderer. your perception of the world and things like faith alter fundamentally. dick does throw his heart out into the world and hopes that it makes it through. he is batman's protege which means he has plans and contingencies but dick is willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. he is all about leaps of faith:

now for the king:

duty, strength and resignation. a big chunk of it is related to the bruce of it all. i think to call saving bruce from himself as duty would be cheapening the strength of the devotion dick has for him. but just look at the time bruce is lost in the time-stream. dick is adamant on not taking up the cowl but because gotham is going to pieces without batman, he does. he leaves his entire life behind to stand in for bruce- train bruce's son, look after bruce's city, wear bruce's mask. that kind of devotion is a mixture of duty, strength and resignation. if not him, then who?

this kind of extends to dick's natural abilities as leader as well. whenever there is a large gathering of titans, they all consciously and sub-consciously look to him for guidance and orders. and dick bears that! admirably, for the most part but i think a part of it also comes from the feeling that the only thing worse than being a leader of his teams would be to not be the leader. (like i said, he's got some massive control issues lol)

this is his lot in life and dick's sheer strength of character lets him handle it pretty well. he's good at being a leader. and if you're good at something, isn't it your duty to do it? is it nature or nurture? is it because batman trained him to be the best? is it because dick came to bruce as an unparalleled source of light, hope and courage?

either way, his love is where he breathes.

[fruitageoforanges]

not reblogging because i don’t want to drag one specific person, but re: my last post, no, the blacks don’t have the same conquerors parallels. more specifically, daemon isn’t a visenya.

now, don’t get me wrong, he has his own fucked-up psychosexual relationship with his brother (which i think is the most compelling part of him), but if anything he’s an anti-visenya. just because he wields dark sister and is a skilled warrior doesn’t mean he’s like her. visenya wasn’t a tantrum-thrower. visenya didn’t run away across the sea. i don’t think aegon i could’ve sent visenya away if he tried, and he never had cause to in the first place.

the difference between daemon and aemond is much more stark in my mind than a lot of people think, and it can be summed up by what alicent says to rhaenyra in ep 7: ‘where is duty? where is sacrifice?’. aemond is governed by duty and loyalty, daemon is governed by his own wants.

[pepprs]

cringe btw. fail a little bit as well

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

[ragingbookdragon]

It comes as somewhat a surprise when the others realize that something has obviously happened between their resident Lieutenant and Private, as she’s quick to fall silent whenever he appears, and even more so make herself scare when she can when he’s around. It’s only the third time that Soap sees it that he says something, because if he doesn’t no one else will, and where’s the fun in that?

He watches her duck her head and leave the break room, Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost sitting alone at the breakfast table conversing over soggy cereal and cooling tea; Soap pushes a piece of bacon on his plate and asks, “Trouble in paradise, Lt?” the corner of his mouth arches with a slight grin when he hears the warning grunt come from Ghost.

“No.”

“Seems like it,” he retorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “What’d ya do? Tell her ta fuck off?”

“Drop it, MacTavish,” Ghost warns darkly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

This time, Gaz jumps in. “C’mon, Lt., it’s obvious that something’s wrong. I mean, she won’t even look at you, let alone say anything unless you speak first.”

“An’ she’s callin’ ‘im ‘sir.’” Soap adds, pointing at him. “Christ, Lt., ya musta done a number on ‘er. Poor Puffin. So sweet and kind. Broke ‘er heart ya did.”

Price can tell that Ghost is close to snapping at the both of them but gets to it before he does. “Soap, Gaz, go catalogue our inventory for the mission next week.”

“Aw, but we already d—” Soap falls silent when Price shoots him a look and quietly grumbles to himself as he grabs his plate and cup, Gaz following in suit.

It’s only until the two soldiers are alone that Price asks, “What did happen, Simon?”

Ghost lets out a long sigh and rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Pretty much told ‘er to fuck off.”

Price watches quietly as Ghost begins rattling to himself—he’s never really had to ask the man to explain himself. All he’s gotta do is prompt him to do so and Ghost does the rest.

“I just got mad. She’s always ‘round and practically up my arse, and I got caught up and instead of ‘andlin’ it properly, I shoved my fucking foot in my mouth and scalped her.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I meant to be gentler but once I started, I couldn’t stop. It just kept comin’ out. And now she fuckin’ hates me.”

He pulls his hand down and looks up at Price with a scowl—the man is smiling at him, but it’s that stupid smile that means more than Ghost wants to admit it does.

“Quit that.”

“You care about her,” Price murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, though his admonish is still harsh. “And instead of telling her how you felt like a grown adult, you took the ten-year-old way out and decided to be a cunt to her.”

“I didn’t mean to be such a cunt.”

“But the fact of the matter is that you did, and you’ve screwed up team fluidity and cohesion.” He looks at him. “You know a team divided—”

“Can’t stand,” Ghost finishes with an even worse scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks away. “I just don’t know how to even start tryin’ to fix it.”

“Well, apologizing might be a good start,” Price rumbles with a grin. “She’s a good kid, Simon. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it’s a bit much at times. Shows she cares. More than most do in our line of work. She’s a rare one.”

“I know,” he admits in a much, much softer tone. “I just don’t want her to lose that doin’ this.” His eyes meet Price’s, and they hold such a misery. “Look at us, Price,” he mutters, gesturing between them. “Middle age, unmarried, no kids, too fucked up for anything like that. She doesn’t…” he clenches his jaw. “She deserves a better path, a safer path, than this life. She deserves to go out and have a life where she comes home to a family.”

“That’s not your choice to make, son,” he replies gently, but there’s a firmness to it. “If this is what she wants to do, then she will. We can’t make her get out of service.”

Ghost growls low in his throat. “She has so much more potential than being cannon fodder. She could do somethin’ with her life. Somethin’ good. Somethin’ that won’t have her dying face down in the sand with a bullet wound in the back.”

Price simply watches him.

“But she’s so fuckin’ stupid. She wants to be here. She wants to spend whatever time she has dodgin’ bullets and wakin’ up every night in sweat ‘cause she can’t escape the dreams. No one wants to do this. We don’t want to do this. We do this because we have to. But her? She’s happy here.” He lowers his voice, it’s as if he’s in disbelief. “She’s happy here.” He looks at Price. “Why? Why is she so happy here?”

It's another long moment before Price speaks.

“You hear, son, but you don’t listen.” He moves the cup on the saucer. “She bounced around homes growing up, scraped by on the skin of her teeth. She has no one. But here, she has something. She has people who care for her, if nothing else, they won’t let her die alone.”

“Oh what? So, it’s found family bullshit?” Ghost spits. “If she dies, at least the team would mourn her?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve done too?” he replies, and Ghost falls silent. “People like Gaz, Soap, and myself are different than you and she are, Simon. We have homes. We’ve had families that have loved us, that do love us. But you two? Simon, you’ve made a home where you’ve had to. Made a family out of people you’ve bled for, would gladly bleed for. You’ve made something that’s yours. You made a family for yourself. And so did she. She’s made us her family. The one she never had the privilege to call her own.”

Price lets out a quiet hum, and pats his thighs, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Think on what I’ve said, son. And if nothing else, apologize and leave it at that. Put the ball in her court and let her make the next move.”

As he walks off, he hears, “And if she doesn’t want it?”

He tosses a knowing look over his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll take it.” His eyes twinkle as he adds, “Takes an awful strong woman to care about a man like you.”

[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[corrodedbisexual]

Eddie is constantly bouncing between jobs and rage quitting every 6 months on average. Steve, however, somehow gets lucky with a job in computer sales. With the industry in a booming rise, he makes a pretty decent income to support them both whenever Eddie's out of a job. Best part is, even though his charming voice and smile certainly help make sales, he doesn't feel like he's one of those scammers pushing all kinds of crap people don't need. Computers are objectively useful.

This goes on until their mid 30s and Steve saves up enough to open his own small tech store. He very hesitantly starts involving his recently unemployed (again) boyfriend in some mundane tasks (upon Eddie's own initiative saying he wants to help) and quickly learns that all of Eddie's previous bosses were morons. Eddie's meticulous and a quick learner with every single task. All he needs is not to have a boss who's a total jackass to him, and a bit of freedom to just... be himself.

Eddie does everything with mild enthusiasm; mild, because it's still work, ugh; enthusiasm, because it's his BOYFRIEND finally being free to do his own thing instead of working for The Man, woohoo, go Stevie! Eddie doesn't need to wear a stupid uniform or put his hair up, can play music in his headphones doing inventory, answers the phones in his special flirty manner, and Steve doesn't have a problem with any of that. He actually listens to Eddie's bitching and recognizes the helpful suggestions to improve things in the middle of all that, instead of telling him to shut up and do his damn job.

Working together can often be the perfect storm to ruin a relationship, but despite becoming Eddie's de-facto boss, Steve never treats him differently. It's never orders, always "Eddie can you [do this and that]?". It's soft smiles and a quiet "thanks, babe", and if no one's around, a kiss on Eddie's cheek when he gets something done. It's a calm explanation instead of yelling if he messes up.

Steve hands Eddie a handful of cash at the end of each week, despite Eddie's comments that it's a bit ridiculous to pay him at all, since he'd been practically living out of Steve's pocket for months at a time, and Steve has been single-handedly paying the rent for their joint apartment. Steve insists though, and Eddie has to admit that it's nice to always have cash in his pocket now.

Eddie learns more and more of everything that's needed to run the store, to the point that he spends a week handling everything alone when Steve's sick with the flu, but it's still a shock when several months later Steve shows him the paperwork in which he writes Eddie in as full partner. Eddie tries to protest, but Steve won't have it; he says he never could have survived all these months of start-up chaos without Eddie, and he fully deserves this. He's been giving Eddie half the store profits for months anyway, time to just make it official.

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

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1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

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note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

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[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

Perhaps Fentons are not able to recognize their child, despite the fact that they hunt him day after day. But for childhood friends, who saw each other in absolutely ridiculous situations that parents are never allowed to know about, just one sneeze and a bored sigh is enough to realize that this weirdo fighting next to him is the same guy with whom you tasted soap and then stood looking at each other from different corners and giggling.

And so, the dialogue after the battle with the creatures of Infinite Realms, to which Constantine had to invite a potential ally not yet approved by the League:

Phantom: Well, mom always said you were bad news...But a crime lord, seriously? What happened to your plans to become a literature teacher? Red Hood: Hey! For Gotham, this is a very high-paying in-demand job. And I don't want to hear anything from Casper. At least I have my own business. What kind of part-time job do you have? Are you selling sheets to your buddies from this green goo? Phantom: This is ectoplasm. And they're not my friends, and anyway… Constantine: King Phantom, do you know Red Hood? Phantom: Do I know him? Ha! This street rat was Splinter of my beginnings until my family moved out of Gotham.

Red Hood: Wait, wait a minute. Phah...Holy shit. I thought I was the best example of what it means to be a disappointment to a family, but you beat me here. Oh, man, only you...The ghost king who is the son of the ghost hunters? Seriously? Hahah! I thought your rebellious phase ended the moment you told your father that you wanted to be an astronaut and not inherit the family business.

Danny*groans and covers his face with his hands*: My life is over.

Red Hood: Literally~ No, of course I always knew that your parents' disregard for safety in the laboratory would someday kill someone, but I didn't really expect this? Like, wow… Phantom: What makes you think it was an incident in the lab? I mean, there are so many possibilities around. It's ridiculous and…hah Red Hood: Dude, look me straight in the face and tell me I'm wrong if you dare. Phantom:…Fuck you, stupid bookworm. Red Hood: Stubborn nerd. Phantom: Red bucket! Red Hood: Pale toadstool! Nightwing: Um, can you guys please stop fighting? Red Hood: What are you talking about? This is how we always communicate. Phantom: Yeah! Well, in our defense, my sister always thought we both could use a therapist. Oh, man, he made me lose my train of thought. Where were we, J? Red Hood: Since when are you able to think? And I complimented your new hair and skin color. Phantom: Right, right… But, hey, not all of my parents' hypotheses really have a right to exist, and you know it! Hm, did I mention that you're built like a fridge and how does this leather jacket suit you? Red Hood: I believe not. And who's talking about your parents' work? You were an airhead when you were alive too to be honest. And as I see it, not much has changed. Why the hell are you still starting a fight with puns? Stop telling your opponent your position. This is terribly stupid! Phantom: Oh, please, these ghosts are definitely not a threat to me. What's wrong with having a little fun? The fact that you don't have weapons to handle something stronger than a blob ghost is your problem not mine, loser. But let's get back to our greetings. Red Hood: Sure. Then listen here…

~~~~~

Nightwing: Jay, why didn't you say right away that you knew Phantom? We've wasted so much time wondering if it's worth summoning him, and you just stood there and said nothing. Red Hood: Pfff…Because I didn't know that until today. He used to be human. And we haven't seen each other for a long time. So how was I to know that he would take such a ridiculous pseudonym? Nightwing: Then why the hell didn't you feel worried about teasing this creature? Red Hood: Why should I? It's just Danny.

~~~~

Tucker: Oh man, 84 murders, attempts to kill Joker and to much fights with Batman and Black Mask and… Danny: Yeah, yeah. It's all very interesting, but it's not what I asked you to find. Get to the point, Tucker. What I will wear to our dinner tonight depends on this. Tucker: Seriously? As far as I'm concerned, whether he's single or not is less important than all this shit. Aren't you afraid to show up at his house? Danny: I'm invited. And for that matter, I'm Amity Park's former public enemy number one. Which one of us should be worried, hah? So he's not dating anyone, right? Don't try to distract me. Tucker: Dude! Danny: Ugh, in my experience, when he acts like he's lost his mind, he usually has good reasons for it. And if not, given some of the events of my alternative future, I have no right to judge him, so…

[satoruluvies]

pretty privilege

jjk boys when they get pretty privilege right in front of you.

includes: yuji, megumi, yuta, toge and ino

yuji: yuji is super kind and humble, also a bit oblivious when it comes to people treating him extra well or flirting with him. someone could ask him for his number and he'd probably assume this was a normal occurence because how else will you make friends without having their number at the very least right? however he isn't slow to realise that he alone was the one being approached, warmed up to and even being offered discounts for simple things and not you. he'd notice the way you'd look away and try distracting yourself while he was busy with yet another girl coming up to him. next time he promises himself not to entertain other people and politely decline them, focusing on telling you how much you mean to him instead.

megumi: megumi isn't stupid, he notices the little frown that would find itself on your pretty lips (you say otherwise but megumi thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen) whenever someone, yet again, comes up to him with a slightly bigger smile asking him for directions and some as far as asking him to walk them to their destination. he'd decline everytime though, of course he would. why would he entertain other people when you're right there? don't get me wrong he isn't rude, he'd show them the directions but not without pulling you closer or holding your hand a little tighter.

yuta: he'd stutter and badly too. sometimes even wanting to hide behind you when he's completely at a loss for words as the waitress offers him an extra plate of food on the house, strangely only for him. on days when he's a little bolder though, he'd accept the free gifts with a thanks and hand them to you. he'd be confused why he's being offered goodies and never you and upon explaining to him, he'd sheepishly try replicating the treatment he got saying something like “if they treat the people they find pretty like that then it's only right for me to treat you like that too, because i think you're very pretty.”

toge: we all know toge doesn't speak because of his cursed speech but his eyes do all the talking. his gaze becomes a little softer on seeing you looking down at your feet waiting for whoever approached him to go away. he isn't really registering what the other person says, his focus being all on you when suddenly he finds a phone being handed to him, the number tab open for him to put in his. he'd hold out his hand, shaking his head and point to you, pulling you closer and zipping down his jacket revealing his pretty marked mouth to place a kiss on your lips. on seeing your surprised expression his eyes turn into pretty cresents as he mutters “salmon roe” and somehow you understand everything he wants to convey to you.

ino: ino would nudge you in triumph with a smirk as the barista offers him his coffee on the house but he doesn't fail to notice the way your smile faltered a little upon hearing the offer. he'd then decline politely but when the barista insists, he pulls you closer and tells them that he comes in a pair so it's either they give you free coffee too or he pays for the both of you. and pay, he does. with your order in hand, the both of you walk out of the cafe as he brags about how pretty he is but also about how lucky he is to have someone prettier, that someone being you of course.

included ino this time bc he's growing on me !!