#and it actually worked so well and they were properly engaged and it was so COOL. god. i love dnd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[grimbunnies]

Much About Pink Soup

Okay.

I made an ill-considered response in a moment of deliberation, and I should have just done this from the beginning.

Pink soup is not about the Sims 2's game engine. The Sims 2 can display 4k textures just fine if your hardware supports higher resolutions and you have properly installed the game (more on this in a moment).

I knew this the whole time, but my autism tends to push me into chameleon-ing in conversations. I am now embarrassed I engaged in such a way that I spread misinformation, so I want to set the record straight (or spread different misinformation because I'm not an expert on any of this, but this is how I understand things, please correct me if I'm wrong and add to this).

Before I begin, I want to make clear that, while I'm referencing a specific post, I'm not in any way attempting to smear anyone. I think we've come to realize as a community that we have a tendency to spread misinformation when things don't quite make sense with this game. Think of how certain we all were that we knew what neighborhood corruption was for literally so many years. I still am in the habit of checking the phone isn't ringing before I save a lot. So, my reason for making this post is because I feel there's a danger that misinformation is being spread, and because I played a part in that I feel responsible for pushing back (again, hopefully I'm actually doing better this time). I don't believe that anyone is intentionally trying to misinform the community. I also believe that there is still useful information in the post I'm referencing. Simmers who struggle with pink soup may find some useful tips in that post. However, when you read it, I ask you try to keep in mind that the explanation that post provides is misleading at times.

Does the game struggle on newer machines? Yes. Newer operating systems and hardware can struggle to run the Sims 2 or play nice with the game, so it requires some tweaking to install in such a way that things will work how most of us would prefer. By default, the game does go "Huh?" when confronted with the concept that it can run as more than a potato simulator (by the standards of modern gaming), but that's because some of the rules it operates with for resolution need tuning for a newer machine with better capabilities. That's what Graphics Rules Maker helps make easier for the average player. You can go into the game files yourself, if you know what you're doing, but that's not something everyone is comfortable doing. Rest assured, if you're using GRM, it's not the cause of pink soup. It isn't breaking your game. The community has not been promoting this tool wrongly. It's still a very good tool. Just follow the guide, and the vast majority of the time it's the best tool to help you get your game looking nice.

"But," I hear you say, "Why then do I have pink soup?" Well, because of your hardware. No, not the game's engine. Your hardware. Pink soup is a texture memory issue. The game displays pink soup when it hits a limit, and this is based on a few factors, but, as I understand it (and please, please correct me if I'm wrong here), it's down to these things: the hardware you have, the way you have changed the game files or other things on your computer to play nice with your fancy modern hardware, and the texture memory required to render your game when you're playing. That last thing is impacted by the custom content you use and the settings you play your game at. The advice in the original post about being conscious of how much you're putting into your downloads folder (and what), replacing certain content with lower texture alternatives, and even considering some of the in-game settings (though the recommendations in the post are for hardware that's really struggling to run the game) or turning off cheats that you use... all of that advice can be valid and useful if you are struggling with pink soup.

Crucially, however, the game's engine can handle all of this just fine. Is the game optimized to run on modern computers? No, of course not, because they didn't exist when it was released. However, that does not mean that it can't or that it can't run with high poly, high texture, highest settings, all of the visual cheats, and mods to make lot imposters fancy. It's just that running with all these things being true can be a challenge for the average Sims 2 player's hardware to support, and it may require fixes and hacks that not everyone feels comfortable setting up (or even know about), and therefore the Sims 2 hits a limit, and you see pink soup and crashing. Again, this is not the engine being hard coded to be unable to display 4k CC, this is (as I understand it) the game going "I don't know how to display that texture anymore because there's too much going on." This happens with a lot of games, actually. It's one of the reasons even modern games crash: because they stop understanding how to display the visual information because of hardware deficiencies and/or poor optimization (and probably other reasons but oh my god don't listen to me I'm a librarian not a programmer). Think of any time you've seen a game crash when you load into a new area, how the game stutters, or how it simply doesn't load. In my experience, that's down to my hardware being unable to handle the game loading so many new textures and 3D models all at once.

You may be asking how I know all this... and it's because my game is really stable. I played for 6 hours today (enjoying my last week of unemployment). I played with a lot of high texture, high poly CC and the highest possible settings the entire time, and my sims went to multiple community lots. My game did not flash pink once. It did not crash. The game's engine did not shit itself, and nor did my hardware struggle any more than it realistically does when I play BG3 on the highest settings (probably less, honestly). And all of this is because I'm an avid gamer and had the very good fortune of having a father that purchased my love with an expensive custom gaming PC, and because I have hunted down every possible recommendation for how to make sure a game doesn't run into texture memory issues, making multiple changes to the game files and to settings on my computer to avoid this issue. Because it works for me (and many others), that's all the evidence you need that it's not about it being a fundamental incompatibility with the game's engine.

I do think it's important for both custom content creators and simmers who enjoy CC to be aware of texture sizes and poly counts, and of how much their hardware can handle. What works for some people will not work universally. That's just the unfortunate reality. I think it's totally cool to encourage creators to provide smaller texture sizes for their content (or to provide that yourself when their TOU allow you to), or list the texture sizes so people can decide if they feel their hardware will support the load. Same with disclosing poly counts. Being aware of these things is important for ensuring you're able to play your game without pink soup or crashing. However, we should not forget that CC creators are hobbyists, in most cases (and that's how we prefer it because we get violent when creators monetize). They're usually creating content they want for their game, and presumably they're publishing it because they haven't run into any issues with using it. Can their content contribute to your pink soup issues? Yes. If you have high quality CC that's going to need to be rendered by the game the majority of the time you play, this will increase the likelihood that you run into issues with texture memory and encounter pink soup and crashing. Does CC need to be 4k? Scholars remain divided. My personal opinion is that I don't notice a huge difference between 2k and 4k the majority of the time, but that's just me, so... If you think lower texture content looks good, definitely use that in your game instead of the highest possible textures, but it's not wrong for those high textures to exist, and it's not CC that's poorly optimized for the game. It's "poorly optimized" for your machine because it was probably made by someone that has better hardware, and therefore created something they wanted according to what their hardware can handle. That's not wrong on the creator's part, and you may be able to ask them nicely for a smaller texture size alternative, or post on a CC request forum, or even try to learn how to adjust the texture size yourself if you'd like the content but you don't think your hardware will handle 4k too well.

I believe the Sims 2 community is full of people that want to help one another, so by all of us being conscious of the varying limitations of our hardware, I think we can foster a CC community that offers a variety of options for texture sizes and that reduces mesh poly counts (we already see this a lot). I also believe it's great if we all, as much as we can, share the resources we refer to when we're optimizing our games for our personal hardware configurations. That's why I like to reblog such resources.

[dorianpavus]

had an incredibly fun game of dnd today. there was a city without stars, surrounded by a seemingly infinite chasm from which no one returns. and our party, searching for answers about the world (this cannot be all there is, surely? earthquakes are more frequent than ever and the sky keeps going pitch black. is this the end of times?) ends up... discovering a FUCKING MECHA. WHICH WE PILOTED. TO DEFEAT A KAIJU. TO THAT ONE PROMARE SONG

[tanadrin]

could you elaborate, why do you believe that people online continue to talk about the flint water crisis as if it were still active? Is it just ignorance of the solution or are there ongoing health issues?

i mean i think people do that bc "everything is fucked and nothing ever gets better" is a genre of post that tickles the limbic system, and in the attention economy of the internet, anything that tickles the limbic system tends to do well, bc it produces engagement. outrage, and outrage-adjacent things, and cliches like "why is no one talking about [major news article everyone is talking about]" and "don't get excited about apparently-good-thing X, here's why it's actually just as bad as [completely different thing it is in no way just as bad as]" and all that other stuff.

and because negativity and outrage--even negativity with no underlying substance--makes a bigger splash than positive stuff with real underlying substance, continuing to repeat "flint doesn't have clean water" (a crisis that did genuinely drag on for a very long time!) has more salience than the news that flint's water problem was fixed (something that took a long time when it finally was properly tackled and didn't generate a single large headline).

there's kind of a similar dynamic in climate news actually, where genuine improvements in areas like energy storage and clean energy rollout and new nuclear permitting don't make a dent in people's narrative that everything is fucked and we're making no progress because IPCC forecasts about what would happen if we hit 4 degrees of warming are genuinely very bad and scary (and, thankfully, no longer on the table!), whereas the boring policy details of stuff in the Inflation Reduction Act, or China's continuing expansion of EV manufacturing are, well... boring. although climate news is different in other ways--like, the planet will continue to warm until carbon emissions are net negative, so even as we make progress on that issue the crisis continues. it's not all good news. but there is good news there, which just gets much less traction online bc of the dynamics of how news works on the internet.

needless to say, though, i think if you want to have an accurate understanding of the world you need to internally mentally check your own tendency to succumb to engagement bait like this. worst case scenario you fall into a doom loop, which i think is pretty unhealthy just in general. but if you notice somebody post something compelling, and you click on their username, and it turns out that all they post is about how the world is fucked, and nothing good ever happens, and we're all gonna die, i think you should be suspicious of them and their motives. not because doomposting is inherently manipulative or deceptive--a lot of people genuinely are doomers! but that doesn't mean they're not responding to the limbic incentives of social media, either. after all, if you too express nothing but pessimism and outrage, then the people addicted to pessimism and outrage will applaud you for being Very Serious and give you lots of engagement and attention, and you will react accordingly.

and also, you know. some people do just lie on the internet for attention. that is absolutely a thing that happens. i am not inclined to bend over backwards to try to reconstruct a generous framing of those lies where maybe people somehow are under the mistaken impression that there is some ongoing sub-problem affecting flint that they have mistaken for being isomorphic to the original crisis. some of them are just liars!

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 23] Apologies

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“What do you need, Satoru?” You’re more than annoyed when you’re called into his office. You cross your arms, raising your brow as you look at him. The man looks a little too comfortable in his chair, and you’ve seem to stop caring about how he behaves. If you looked closer, you’d see him fidgeting with his fingers, something he rarely does.

“I was wondering…” He begins, and you feel yourself get more and more irritated by the second. He’s wasting your time. “Do you have any plans on Friday?”

“Work, and maybe take Ren to the movie theater to watch a new kids’ movie.” You answer, and at first you don’t understand why he asks. But then it clicks, and you find yourself even more irritated than before… He’s not planning on asking you out, is he? He’s not crazy enough to do that, at least you hope he isn’t. Satoru has changed a lot, you never know just how crazy he’s gotten.

“Can we go out?” He blurts out, tripping over his words and it almost makes you laugh because he’s so nervous. But then you realize that he’s actually asking you out, and you furrow your brows. 

“Ren is coming along, right?” You question before deciding to berate him. Maybe you’re reading things wrong, and you don’t want to argue with him for no reason, so you allow him to make himself clear. But he shakes his head, and you try to take a deep breath to gather your thoughts, “What do you want, Satoru?”

“I feel like we have to properly talk about everything, and sadly, we can’t do that when Ren is around.” Satoru says, and he isn’t wrong, but you don’t really want to fix anything if it means that you have to be alone with him for an extended period of time. You’re not sure what you’d do if you were alone with him, the moment you get your hands on him you might strangle him. 

“I don’t feel like it’s time yet, Satoru.” You tell him, and he bites his tongue. He thinks of how to argue with you, make a point that going with him is a smart decision. It’ll improve your relationship so you can be better parents to Ren.

“Ren notices there’s something wrong with us and he wonders why.” Satoru points out which isn’t a lie. When Ren was staying over he asked why you were so mean to him or something like that, and Satoru didn’t know how to explain himself. But he knows well that it isn’t the reason why he’s asking you to dinner. 

“Why don’t you tell him that it’s because his dad is a little–” You begin but you cut yourself off. You’re mad at him, you can’t deny that, but it seems that he just wants to make sure your relationship is better so you can parent Ren cordially. You have been rather mean with him lately, so you’ll control your tongue. “I just don’t see the point of going out alone, our relationship can get better with Ren there..”

“Don’t you want to talk about heavier topics? You’ll have to tell me what’s on your mind, and you know that having Ren there isn’t the best idea.” Satoru argues, and you hate the fact that he’s actually making a good point. “It’s a nice place.”

“Fine, just text me the address and the dress code. Don’t take me anywhere too fancy, I usually don’t like the food there.” You answer, and Satoru nods in response. He has very different plans. Ones that probably aren’t crossing your mind. 

Ren is fairly surprised when you tell him that you’re going out with his daddy– And you aren’t taking him along. He’s unsure what you could possibly do, but when he hears that he’s staying with your mom, he stops caring quickly. Ren loves spending time with his grandmother, so he doesn’t have an issue being with her all night. 

“Where are we going?” You ask Satoru when you get into his car, and he tells you that it’s a surprise. You’re not exactly excited nor do you wonder what the surprise is. The car ride is quiet, Satoru tries to make conversation that you don’t care to engage in even though you know you should. This is to talk about the issues that you have, but you don’t really want to talk.

He turns right, and you’re met with a gate which makes you furrow your brows. Where the hell did he take you? The gate opens and he drives into the place. The house is beautiful, you can’t deny it, but you have no idea why you’re here. 

“Why are we here?” You ask him when he parks the car. Are you here for business? The lights are on so you assume someone lives in the place. He’s fighting back a smile, getting out of his car and running to your side to open the door for you.

“We’re meeting someone here.” He tells you, and you almost roll your eyes. You should’ve known dinner couldn’t have gone so smoothly. “I promise it’ll be fun, nothing weird.”

“I have no option to trust you, do I?” You respond, following behind him after getting out of the car. You look at the house, one that you could only afford in your dreams. Well actually, it isn’t impossible now. Regardless, it’d take so many years of your own effort to buy it. 

You get confused when he opens the door with his own key, and you sigh, knowing that he’s just going to show off his new place. You step inside, and the place is bare, which is to be expected since it seems new. You clear your throat before speaking up, “Who exactly are we meeting?”

He grabs your hand, and you roll your eyes again but you don’t yank your hand out of his grasp. He takes you to the huge kitchen, and he points to the person you’re meeting. Satoru says, “This is our chef for the night. He’ll make whatever you want to eat.”

“Oh.” You’re fairly shocked, but you aren’t too mad. “Okay…”

“I hope it’s better than a restaurant.” Satoru laughs, trying to play it off as a thoughtful act. It is creative, and you can’t exactly complain. But you know that part of the reason he does this is because he doesn’t really remember what you like. “C’mon let’s take a seat. I’ll tell him what we want when you decide.”

“Well… What can I order?” You ask curiously, wondering what the chef has on hand. Sometimes you forget that Satoru is filthy rich and can buy out an entire grocery store without an issue. 

“He’ll make anything you want.” Satoru answers with a smile as he leads you to the dining room. It has a huge table, one that reminds you of his mother’s house. It’s huge, it can fit many people, but most of the time it’ll be empty. He waits for you to take a seat, knowing that if he takes a seat first, you’ll go as far away as possible. “When you decide I’ll tell him.”

“I really don’t know. You can pick.” You respond, pulling a chair and taking a seat. He takes a seat right beside you, and you tense up. You can’t help but point out, “You have so many other chairs.”

“We’re here to talk, are we not?” He tells you, and you roll your eyes. He isn’t wrong, but he doesn’t have to sit so close when there are so many other chairs. You don’t want him so close. He clears his throat before saying, “Dinner is for you, you can pick.”

“I guess…” You try to come up with something but you don’t. Satoru taps his finger on the table, growing impatient. “Can’t you just pick? I’ve already been forced to be here tonight.”

“Fine.” Satoru ends up sighing. He stands up and walks to the kitchen to put in his request, leaving you alone to stare at your surroundings. It’s a beautiful home, but you would change the little decorations that you’ve seen. It’s not up to you anyway.

You hear your phone ring, grabbing it from your purse. You notice that Suguru calls, and you debate on rejecting the phone call– You’ve been ignoring him for so long, but it’s about time you answer his call. Satoru is in another room so you can make it quickly. You end up picking up the phone, bringing it to your ear, “Hi Suguru.”

“Hi…” He answers, sounding shocked that you actually picked up the phone. “Can we talk?”

“Um…” You don’t know how to answer. You just know you have to do it before Satoru gets back because you’re not sure that Suguru hearing Satoru’s voice is a good idea. You don’t know your way around the house, but you stand up from your chair and walk out of the living room, just in case Satoru gets back and makes himself known. “Actually, I’m out to dinner with someone so I can’t right now… Do you want to meet up soon?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” He agrees. “So, what do you want to do?”

“How about we meet at a café?” You ask, and you hear Satoru call out your name, telling you that you have to hang up the phone. “I’ll text you the details, I have to go now. Bye.”

You hang up the phone, and turn around to find Satoru, who finally spots you. He raises his brows, asking, “Who were you talking to?”

“Does it concern you?” You reply which makes Satoru chuckle. He guesses it doesn’t. You two walk back to the dining room, sitting back in the same spots. You start off with a simple appetizer, and some drinks, food that you know Satoru loves. You eat in silence, and you’re forced to speak up, “You insisted that we have to talk, so talk, Satoru.”

“I want to… Apologize.” He begins and when he doesn’t get any more specific, you reply with,

“For?” 

“For…” It’s hard to get the words out even though he knows exactly what he should apologize for. He bites down his lip as he gathers his words. How can he say it without sounding like a total jerk. He blurts out, and you barely understand what he says, “For leaving you when you needed me without an explanation.”

“And?” You respond because he’s still missing a bit. You feel yourself getting more annoyed by his silence, and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. “I mean, you left me for money, is that the best you can do?”

“I just don’t know how to properly apologize, you should know I’m not used to apologies.” He claims, and you roll your eyes. Of course he says that instead of thinking of a way to apologize better. He watches you cross your arms, a look of clear anger on your face. “I shouldn’t have done that, I know.”

“You know? But you changed your number and completely cut me out of your life– And not for love, because as much as it hurts, I would’ve preferred you leaving me because you fell in love with someone else… Maybe I would’ve understood it better.” You begin, and you feel your heart break again. You thought you had gotten used to the fact that Satoru left you for his own financial benefit. “I don’t even get why you cut me off completely… Maybe if you had explained everything to me then maybe I could have stuck around but you decided that you wanted me out of your life completely.”

“I just thought you deserved to move on and forget about me.” Satoru argues, and your hands ball up into fists. He’s trying to save his own ass, and it bugs you. The benevolent Satoru. “I just didn’t know you were pregnant with Ren.”

“You know, Satoru, it hurts to know that you were fine with leaving me like nothing– And honestly I’m glad that you cut me off when I was about to tell you that I thought I was pregnant.” You feel tears well up in your eyes but you hold them back. It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re over it. You are. “Have I never been worth anything to you?”

“Of course you do, you are–” You cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

“Not just as Ren’s mother, because before that I was your friend and your girlfriend for so many years.” You try not to let it show that you’re deeply hurt, but it shows. It’s hard not to because the man that you swore you would spend the rest of your life with quickly disregarded your relationship… And the only reason he seems to regret everything is because of his son. “Was your love just a lie?”

“It’s not like that. You know that I love you so much.” He says and his words sting. How dare he say that he loves you? How does he have the audacity to say that? “I just…”

“Just what?” You don’t even give him a chance to finish his sentence. “Don’t you ever say that you love me again, Satoru.”

“You know my mom would’ve made your life miserable if I hadn’t gone with Sayo, in the end, I did what was best for the two of us.” Satoru argues, and you stand up from your chair. You can’t stand to be in the same place as him anymore. He watches you begin to walk away and he has to stand up as well, “Wait, let’s finish this, please. For Ren.”

“No, I have to go. I can’t stand to be in this place with you any longer. You’re so… Why can’t you just admit that you’re fucking selfish? Not only that, just admit that you haven’t cared about me, Satoru. I have always come second to you, and suddenly you’re acting like you aren’t at fault for this, that your mother forced you to make the choice when we both know that you made that choice all on your own.” It genuinely hurts you that Satoru ended up being a completely different person– Or maybe Satoru was this same person all along, you just hadn’t noticed it before.

“You’re right. I did. I made the decision all on my own and I can’t blame anyone else.” He finally admits, which should give you some satisfaction but it doesn’t. You’re taking deep breaths to stop yourself from crying but the tears are coming down your face. Satoru’s heart breaks as he finally watches you break down, and he steps toward you to comfort you. He pulls you into a hug, “I’m so sorry, please don’t cry.”

It’s so tempting to hug him back, but you can’t. You push him away, you don’t want to be met by his warm embrace; you don’t need his comfort. You wipe away your tears, “I’ll forgive you for Ren, but don’t you ever try anything with me.”

“Okay…” He responds, but knowing Satoru, the last part went in one ear and out the other. “C’mon, let’s sit down, our main course is almost ready.”

“I want to go back home to my baby boy.” You tell him, and Satoru sighs. He can’t argue and say anything that’ll make you want to stay a little longer, so he won’t keep you here.

“I also had a surprise for you.” Satoru mentions, but you aren’t really interested. “I’ll tell you when it’s more ready though, and when you’re less mad at me.”

“Let’s just go.” You respond, really not caring to ask. He doesn’t spark curiosity in you. Just as you begin to walk out of the dining room, your chef comes out with the main course. He sets it down on the table, and your eyes spark. You look back at Satoru a little shocked but you proceed to tell him, “I changed my mind.”

“Really?” He has to fight a smirk off his face. You really thought you had him read like a book, but perhaps you are wrong in some aspects. He jokingly asks, “Why is that?”

It’s your favorite meal.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

If You Want Me

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1,881

Warnings: lots of crying. (y/n)’s not the sharpest tool.

[Established Relationship AU] You find a strange box in your boyfriend’s drawer and it brings forth a life-changing event.

You were buzzing with unburnt energy, itching for something – anything – to do.

It was just one of those days where you couldn’t sit still. It wasn’t that you hadn’t already done much: the standard 8-hour work day was already finished and you still felt like you needed to be useful. There was so much to do and you were excited to get to it.

It was a blur of productivity. The speakers filled the apartment with the melodies of a playlist Jihoon had once made for you (you had lost track of what he made the playlist for; he had simply made you so many) as you practically waltzed around, finishing chore after chore at near magical speeds: the dishes, the laundry, the windows, the curtains. You watered the plants and gave their big green leaves a good wipe-down.

Around 11 pm, a text chimed on your phone. It was Jihoon, a heart emoji proudly on display by his contact name. 

“Want anything to eat?” he asked, ever so thoughtful – or perhaps trying to avoid the awkwardness of eating alone.

You gladly replied to him, practically begging for your favourite noodle dish, and returned to organising your wardrobe. Even that task was done soon and you were once again left with a strange itch to just do something else. Literally any chore. But you had done them all already.

Well. Except Jihoon’s side of the wardrobe. 

The half-wrinkled black and white t-shirts on the shelves and a random pair of sandals shoved in there was an eyesore compared to your perfectly folded blouses. He wasn’t the messiest person you had met, but he rarely had time to actually keep his closet as neat as he or you would’ve liked.

Usually you left his side for him to deal with, but – you thought to yourself – there’s no harm in helping out.

You folded his shirts properly, throwing a few stained ones to the laundry bin. You organised his jackets and sweaters by colour. You began organising his underwear drawer – the messiest of them all – when you found something curious. 

It was a box. A very small one, covered in a velvety material. You thought, perhaps in a tired daze, it looked like something a piece of jewellery might come in. Earrings? Or a ring perhaps? 

But why would he keep his rings in a box? He had a perfectly good jewellery tray on the nightstand – one you had handmade for him in a pottery class on a double date night. And the box couldn’t have been for you either – you rarely wore rings or jewellery of any kind and he knew that.

So what was in this box?

You tried so hard to fight the curiosity and just leave it be. You loved and trusted your boyfriend. You knew he wouldn’t hide things from you. Maybe it was a gift from someone. Maybe the box was empty and he had simply forgotten to throw it out.

But you had come this far and you were getting tired and you just had to find out. One little peek wouldn’t hurt, right? It surely couldn’t.

Against the warnings of your last rational braincells, you opened the box. Your jaw dropped in surprise. 

It was, indeed, a ring. A pretty one at that. With an intricate golden band and a heart-shaped ruby in the middle. You thought to yourself that even you wouldn’t mind wearing something as beautiful as this.

But it wasn’t your ring. And, frankly, you wondered if it was really his either. Suspicions and curiosity grew and when you snapped back to reality you had already sent a photo to your friends’ chat, asking what they thought it was.

The answer was immediate and loud: “??? THAT’S CLEARLY AN ENGAGEMENT RING, YOU IDIOT?!”

Your heart dropped. Your body felt hot all over. You worried you might faint from shock. 

Could it be? Was this really what they thought it was? Had you just accidentally ruined your boyfriend’s plans to propose? 

And even more importantly – you thought, brain fully going into overdrive now, not even caring that the box sharply closed on your thumb as you clutched it to your chest and sunk to sit on the floor, tears burning in your eyes –, your boyfriend was going to propose? He actually wanted to marry you? It wasn’t just a tired fantasy he joked about with you late at night, giggling and joking about growing old together. He had bought a ring – an engagement ring.

Overwhelmed by your joyous feelings and the guilt of ruining what was clearly meant to be a surprise, you began to cry. Tears blurred your vision, mascara you should’ve washed off hours ago was smudging off your lashes, snot ran down your nose – you were certain you looked absolutely horrendous but you had bigger things to worry about for now.

Practically sobbing, you didn’t hear the front door opening and closing or Jihoon calling out to you from the front door, his melodious voice so full of love as he greeted you. You didn’t notice the rustling of the takeout bag or tired footsteps echoing in the apartment, nearing your location.

He walked into the bedroom, expecting to find you soundly asleep or maybe scrolling on Tiktok, ready to show him some nonsensical meme again. Even if he made fun of you for showing them to him, he greatly cherished the fact that your first thought was to share these things with him. 

Instead he found you curled up in front of the closet, sobbing with a velvet box in hand. He froze. "Fuck."

Realising he’d come home, you scrambled to put the box back where you had found it and wiped your tears and runny mascara and apologised and hid your face and said, "Sorry. Don’t look at me. I’m a mess."

Jihoon only chuckled somewhat uneasily and slowly came closer, reaching out a hand to place it onto your shoulder before pulling you into a gentle hug. It was comforting. He was always comforting. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked as if he wasn’t fully aware already.

"I–"

"You found the ring, right?"

"How'd you know?" you worried, eyes wide. Was he upset with you? Was he disappointed? Angry? Sad? You couldn’t live with yourself if you had made him feel bad when he had put so much thought into a future with you.

"I saw you put it away,” he pointed out so calmly that it almost lulled you into a false sense of serenity.

"Oh. That was something else,” you lied horribly. You were never a great liar, at least not to him. “What ring? I don’t know about any ring–"

"I think I know what the box of the ring I had made for you looks like, baby," he told you with a slight laugh before reaching into the drawer with his free hand and taking out the very box. Hesitating for just a moment, he then held it out for you, nodding for you to take it.

With shaking hands, you did as told. "It's for me?"

"If you want it," he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but his bright red ears and oddly glimmering eyes say he's about five seconds away from a mental breakdown of his own. He coughed to clear his throat before adding, "If you want me."

"What?"

"I– This wasn't how I planned this but," Jihoon ran a hand through his hair, “but I guess the cat's out of the bag.”

He let out a nervous laugh – the one he always did when Soonyoung or Jeonghan convinced him to do something dumb or embarrassing – before dropping to one knee right there, in front of the closet, in front of you – his girlfriend who he thought looked like a sad panda in the best way possible. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath as you waited, holding your own breath. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed and gentle, as if he feared speaking any louder would give away how nervous he was feeling. 

“I know this is kind of sudden and you probably weren’t expecting it,” he started, voice wavering, “but I feel like I’ll go crazy if I avoid my feelings for much longer. When I first met you, I knew I’d want you in my life for a long time – whether as a friend or as something more I didn’t know yet.

“But now I know,” Jihoon had begun crying, wiping his tears between anxious giggles when he saw your tear-stained but bright smile – an encouragement –, “I want you as my home, as my everything, as my wife. I’d sooner go insane than live a single day without calling you mine and myself yours. So,” he took the ring in one hand and your hand in his other, “I'm asking you to make me the happiest man alive and accept this ring and marry me. Will you have me?"

There was not a single doubt or even an echo of one in your mind. 

“Yes. Yes!” 

Nodding rapidly, almost frantically even, you semi-patiently watched him smile the brightest you had seen him do in weeks and gently place the ring around your finger. Before he could even admire the jewellery on your hand, your arms were wrapped around him, lips reaching for his to kiss him as flustered and silly as he had made you with his words. 

“I love you,” you heard him whisper against your lips as he pulled you closer until there wasn’t even a molecule of air between the two of you.

You hummed and pulled back just enough to whisper back, “I love you too, future husband.”

He groaned at the words, a dumb grin on his face. “I can’t wait to marry you, seriously.”

“There’s a chapel down the street,” you half-joked (half- because you were so overcome with love for him that you wouldn’t have even mildly protested if he had gone along with the joke and made it a reality).

To your amusement, he was the one to protest, a grumpy frown taking over his previously bright and awestruck face. “I had an entire picnic planned with fairy lights and cake and live music and I even had Mingyu convinced to take photos for us, and instead  I ended up proposing to you,” he glanced around the room almost judgmentally, “crying in front of the closet in our apartment, with my underwear drawer open.” He forcefully shut the offending drawer, earning a chuckle from you, before letting out a firm loud hum of protest and pulling you back into a tight hug. “I’m not letting the same happen to our wedding. You deserve the world and I’ll give it to you.”

“... So we’re not eloping then?”

“Not a chance,” he insisted, face scrunching up as if the very idea was offensive, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’re already missing out on engagement photos. Imagine how upset our moms will be if they don’t even get wedding photos.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you chuckled, pausing before adding on, “future husband.”

He tensed for a moment. Then he spoke, “So about that chapel – do you think they take last minute walk-ins, or…?”

[pankiebogs]

ii16 spoilers under cut

MORE talk about fan similar to the other post because there is still a lot to say. This is more about what fan means to mephone

Compared to most of the other contestants, Fan wasn't originally created to BE a contestant, which I find most interesting. Fan was quite literally created to be a fan of the show and randomly appears in season 1 (and he also delivers food I guess). Even if Mephone4 consciously made Fan or not, his appearance and creation obviously meant Mephone wanted appreciation for the things he was making, as is Fan's main purpose and service to Mephone. Fan is technically a manifestation of Mephone's love for the show itself, but he is also expressing vulnerable happiness of which Mephone feels like he could not express properly considering his issues with vulnerability. This might be why he is so outwardly dismissive of Fan's strong emotional enthusiasm for the show!!

So Fan technically is a support Mephone desperately wants, but he can't respond well to- but this definitely means Mephone appreciates Fan's dedication as he quite literally wished for Fan to exist as he is, being such an engaged Fan. He expresses passion for the show in a way Mephone couldn't do himself! Fan gives Mephone support as complete opposite to what Mephone feels Cobs would have! And you know what else Cobs does that Fan has an extreme well known trait of disliking and being scared of? Change. Cobs constantly reinvents, makes new things, discards old things, but Fan latches on. He observes patterns, he begs for predictability, structure and consistency.

Another notable trait of Fan is his defensiveness. Even if he's not good at it, he's incredibly stubborn to protect his passion and love to no end, being incredibly irrational about it. Cobs is well. Yeah. Massive Passion Disliker. He don't gaf about that. Fan might've looked up to cobs and meeple, but god if he's not possibly a parallel that's the opposite. I'm going to walk into the ocean. Im forever gonna think about how fan was created to be a support. like his entire goddam purpose is to love something so much!!!! and give it so much attention! and he is having so much fun doing it!!! IT IS MAKING ME CRAZY!!!!

I'm not sure if the characters are partly "extensions" of Mephone or if they're Mephone projecting specific parts of himself, I believe most of all they are created from his desire (like, wanting a specific thing and that thing just appears for him if this is done unintentionally,) but either way I enjoy thinking about what each trait that manifested for Fan's character specifically would resonate with Mephone's experiences and why he would create him with those traits. or something.

My working theory is that Mephone labeled each character in his mind as one thing, such as "the jerk" for Knife and nothing more, letting the contestants take their own shape and personality as they gain more experience on the show, which I feel is validated through Lightbulb saying "I don't think we were all there yet" once seeing the season 1 contestants in alternate reality show! They build more of their personality as it goes along. I think Mephone has minimal control of the contestants personality wise after he's generated them, but i do think he influences their memories or experience with time or something?? I dont know. guess we will all see. Also this somehow isn't about fan anymore wow that's weird actually who am i where am i

relevant drawing. Time to collapse to my knees over this shit again

[bigtedbear]

“ 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧

content warnings: 18+ NSFW, 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, general yandere themes, emotional detachment, gay sex, anal sex, anal penetration, mlm, bl, sexual coercion, dubcon to marriage, semi-public sex, choking, hair-pulling, hatefucking, oral sex (reader receiving), male reader, this is a part 2 that might be important information, semi-stockholm sydrome-y, touch-starved/horny reader

Part 1 here: " like lovers do "

Here's the continuation of a fan favorite, "like lovers do", I'm going to leave the actual plot of the fic a secret so you all can enjoy it while you read!! Special thanks to all the people who left comments basically begging me for a part 2 because that's what truly convinced me to write this LMAOOOO if you're looking for anyone to thank for this they are to blame

Fair warning, the content isn't quite as dark as it was before since a lot of people wanted to see the relationship between the reader and Ayato improve, but I also don't enjoy making the reader character complicit in forced relationships so there will still be a fair bit of resistance.

ONE LAST NOTE: i wrote and rewrote this like seven times, if the plot seems disjointed its cause I basically compiled all the different iterations to make the ultimate part 2 kthxbye

Cold.

It was really cold.

Why did Ayato feel so cold?

His eyes opened blearily, blinking rapidly to bat away the exhaustion. The room was dimly lit, like it always was. What should've been his marital bedroom was devoid of a husband, like it usually was in the morning. Ayato couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt wrong. He should've been used to an empty bed and an empty room by now, but the space still felt... desolate. Everything was in place, nothing had moved, the man was even in the same position he usually slept in. Yet despite all this, he felt cold and alone. Why was that?

He went to sit up, to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but instead of maybe a back ache from sitting up all day, he was confronted with an all-consuming pain shooting up his body. Not only that, he noticed when he peeled the covers off of himself he was completely naked.

Well, that explained why he was cold.

But why did he feel abysmally lonely?

His eyes swept over the room, looking for anything out of place, but he wasn't met with anything unusual. That seemed to be a no-go, but perhaps his memories of the previous night would become clearer if he actually got out of bed. Carefully, he swung his legs over the side of his futon, but was met with a strange numbness in his extremities and another wave of searing pain to shoot up his spine.

Things were only getting stranger the more he investigated, but it seemed his questions would be answered all too soon. The very moment his feet made contact with the ground, the brush of fabric startled him. He wondered if one of his blankets had gotten kicked off the bed in the night, but when he looked down to confirm his suspicions, the memories of the previous night stormed his mind like an angry mob.

'Oh.'

His cheeks automatically lit up a cherry red, realizing the 'suspicious fabric' he'd been stepping on was actually his own yukata. Y'know, the one his husband had taken off of him before they... engaged in a night of passion, for lack of a less vulgar term.

Just a few feet away from his clothing were yours, the same kimono he'd tugged off your shoulders, the same sash he'd watched you untie, the same pair of pants you'd left for work in the previous morning, all in a crumpled pile on the floor. He couldn't remember how the clothing specifically got on the floor, having recalled throwing it somewhere on the futon since the both of you were too impatient to properly undress.

The longer he pondered the happenings of the previous night, the more he lost sight of what he had been doing in the first place. Specifically, what he needed to do for the day. After all, the politics of Inazuma stopped for no god, much less any human.

Still, understanding why he felt so lonely didn't help the fact that he still felt lonely. You had been so open and intimate with him the previous night, did you just consider it to be some obligation you had to fulfill if you wanted to keep your family business going? It certainly didn't feel like you were as emotionally distant the night before. Ayato had basked in the glorious sunlight that was your attention, your affections even. You had not only ticked off the consummation box on the marriage contract, you didn't just stop at one round either.

It felt like he was married for once, not just inviting another guest into his home. He might have always worn his ring, caught sight of the matching one you wore when he caught a glimpse of you in the manor, but he had never felt anything close to the adoration and alert focus you'd showered him in the previous night. Even if it hadn't been exactly what he'd imagined for the night, it didn't change the fact that you had been there, in the bed when he'd fallen asleep.

When you'd first gotten married, the part of the day he looked forward to the most was falling asleep in each other's arms. You hadn't given him that satisfaction, but you not only let him hold you after sex, your own arms were cradling him close to your chest like a baby. He'd gotten to use your heart as a lullaby, to feel the burning hot skin on skin contact, the little circles you traced on the small of his back to help him fall asleep; all of it.

He'd hoped--as his eyelids began to grow heavier than lead--that even if exchanging your vows hadn't been the start of your marriage, perhaps yesterday was the true beginning of your relationship.

He knew it was wishful thinking, having sex for the first wouldn't be some kind of switch that flipped inside of you. You wouldn't start loving him just because the two of you had shared one night together, but he'd hoped it might have been the start of things. He'd hoped more than hope itself that maybe you would just barely crack open the gates to the forest containing the forbidden fruit that was your heart.

If he gave you his body on top of his eternal love and devotion, maybe you'd be open to giving him more than the cold shoulder.

He could feel a dismal sense of disappointment settling in his chest, the prospect of giving you all that he had and still not being enough. Maybe if he thought a little harder, he could come up with something to offer you. You had his heart, his body, his entire being, but maybe there was something else he could offer you. He just didn't know what it was yet.

His train of thought was immediately interrupted when the door to the room slid open.

He scrambled to cover himself with the various comforters laying next to him, not bothering to check who was at the door, but then he was met with a melodious chuckle.

His eyes darted to the doorway.

You were in a new yukata, hair completely drenched, and a used towel thrown over your shoulder. He spied your attempt to hide your smile behind the back of your hand. By now, his flush had died down, but the moment he caught sight of you, it returned tenfold. He burst into an electrifying scarlet and completely froze in his tracks like a nervous deer.

You closed the door behind you shortly after, smothering another laugh at his expense. You coughed behind a closed fist, unable to completely wipe the smug grin off your face. "Good morning."

"I-" Ayato tried to swallow some spit down his unbearably dry throat, just now realizing how parched was. "Good morning."

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Sorry if I scared you, I woke up feeling less than clean so I decided an early morning bath would be nice." You started walking towards a hamper of dirtied laundry, tossing your towel in before adding, "I didn't want to wake you up, you seemed exhausted yesterday."

"..."

You could only feel yourself smile wider the longer he struggled to answer. His mouth opened and closed like one of those fat koi fish you spied in town a couple weeks ago. The sly Kamisato Ayato was nothing but a flustered mess just from you walking into the room.

You began to notice a trend in what seemed to make you happy these days.

You tilted your head to the side a bit, pretending to look confused as you asked oh-so-innocently, "What?"

He finally seemed to put his thoughts into words when directly questioned. "Weren't you supposed to leave for work earlier?"

You hummed, crossing your arms as you walked towards him. "I moved my work around to a few of the higher ups." Instead of engaging with him further, you bent down and picked up his discarded sleepwear and your clothes from the previous day.

"Oh, and relax, I took care of your work for the day. I didn't exactly think it'd be proper for the head of the Yashiro Commission to be stumbling around like a newborn fawn in public."

"Please?"

You hummed, lazily tracing circles on his lower back with one hand, the other holding your book open. "I'm only taking care of you for the day, you don't need me here tonight."

You had been suspiciously good to him, willing to do just about anything he asked if he persuaded you enough. As of now, he'd managed to convince you to let him cuddle up to your side while you did your own relaxing. One of his hands lay on your chest next to his face while the other was squeezed beneath him on the futon, balled up in a fist next to his heart.

So, so sweet, you had been to him. So tender and caring and lenient; it made him feel suspicious but he had thought himself to be too cynical. Instead of being ready to be burned, he wanted to fully be able to embrace this beautiful warmth in its entirety.

Still, he knew there would be some kind of caveat.

Everything you did, everything you said, everything you let him do, it was only for today. He knew it from the start, when you'd told him upfront you were willing to support him while he was recovering from your rendezvous in the sheets the previous night. He had you wrapped around his finger, but only for the day.

He traced his finger over the hemline on your top, gingerly ghosting over it. While you were still scanning over the words in the book, it brought him some satisfaction that you were still listening to what he said. "Surely, I won't have to beg you to stay in bed tonight." There was a bashful smile on his features as he poked, "What if I need something in the night? You've been doting on me all day, but my legs are still numb."

You rolled your eyes, flipping to the next page of your book. "You are the head of the Yashiro Commission, you are not delicate or fragile. We have plenty of attendants, should you need anything you're strong enough to leave the bed and call for their assistance."

He made sure to exaggerate his expression as he pouted, stopping the movement of his free hand. "I may be the head of the Commission, but that doesn't mean I'm indestructible. Perhaps I want to be taken care of for once." He closed his eyes and huffed as he pushed his head further into your chest, "I don't sleep well at night when you aren't next to me. I need the rest if I am to make a full recovery come tomorrow."

"You're more than welcome to get your 'restful sleep' now, there is nothing stopping you." You continued to scan over the kanji sprawled across the page in front of you. Your hand stopped tracing its own circles on his back, opting to rest comfortably against the curve of his spine.

He sighed, dramatically. Even though he acted annoyed, he couldn't deny the pacifying qualities of your touch and your attention. It would be stripped from him at the end of the day he glumly realized, but being unable to have your focus on him unequivocally for the past few months truly weighed on him.

He wanted your eyes to only look at him. He wanted your arms around him every night, every single day. He wanted to be able to indulge himself in your company after work like a glutton. Every single ounce of your remaining time would be spent with him in his own little ideal fantasy world, but with every rejection he could feel his already broken heart crack and shatter just a little bit more.

Would it kill you to share a bed with him? Kill you to be willing to sit in the same room? To eat dinner together? Maybe sit down and discuss both of your work days? If you couldn't love him, could you at the very least pretend? Perhaps that was why he couldn't be mad at you for only loving him conditionally.

He couldn't convince you to love him at all otherwise.

He sat up from where he was leaning on you, pressing his hands down on one of your thighs, "What must I do to convince you, darling? Is there really nothing? I've enjoyed spending the day with you so much I fear I won't be able to take it if you withdraw so suddenly."

You raised a brow skeptically, still not taking your eyes off of your page. He playfully smacked you on the arm, trying to draw your attention away from your silly book. "No, Ayato, I've already told you there is no reason for me to sleep here tonight. You have everything you could possibly need-"

"But what if I need you here?" He urged, wrapping his hand around your bicep. He tugged, scrunching up his fist along with the fabric. "Your husband is a very greedy man, you agreed to take care of me today."

You still didn't divert your attention from the light novel in your hand, flipping to another page. "Just because you are greedy doesn't mean I'll spoil you to death. I agreed to take care of you during the day, I didn't say anything about tonight."

He whined your name, moving to straddle your hips. He put his hand over your book and pushed it to the side. His hands gripped the collar of your yukata, forcing you to look at him, focus on him without any distractions. The divine pink that surged up from your neck sent a pleasant satisfaction pooling in the bottom of his gut. "Could you just consider it a part of your obligation to me today? How can your heart stand to see your precious husband begging you to come to bed and still be so cruel-hearted?"

In any other circumstance, you'd likely shove him off, but in this scenario you let his hands wrinkle the fabric of your collar. Your hands rested tentatively on his waist, averting eye contact. "Only you seem to be calling yourself precious here, Lord Kamisato."

He gasped, putting an offended hand over his heart, "How could you still say such hurtful things to me?" He threw his other hand over his forehead, closing his eyes as he slumped away from you sadly. "You should be groveling and begging for my forgiveness, dearest."

You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to his exposed temple, "There, does that make up for it?"

He turned back to face you, rested his hands on your chest again. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before resting his face in the crook of your neck. "Partially, I do believe you know what truly would make it up to me."

You huffed, "I'm afraid I will have to leave this injustice unresolved." You picked up your book from where he'd shoved it out of your hands.

Promptly, his hand rested on top of yours. His face withdrew from where it had comfortably rested, "If you aren't going to be here tonight, could you at the very least pay attention to me?"

You seemed to consider wrestling your page-turner from him, to turn him down again. But instead, you let a deep breath pass your lips before setting the hardcover on the nightstand and opening your arms. You were basically offering yourself up to him.

He let himself fall into your embrace, a happy purr passing his lips as he slumped against your chest. He let himself be babied as you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and pulled him into your chest and rested your chin on top of the crown of his head.

If he only had today, he would wring as much love from you as he could.

"What are you doing here?"

The Yashiro Commissioner hummed as he took a pointed seat across from you in front of your desk. "Will you be this suspicious of me for the rest of our lives? Is it really all that strange that I want to make a routine out of coming to visit you at work?"

You flipped to the next page of one of the various packets of documents on your desk, "I believe the question you should be asking is whether or not you will always want something from me when you make a visit." Your middle finger carefully scanned over the line of said document before carefully filling out a beautifully calculative signature.

"Oh hush," Ayato gently rested his forearms across the table, face in his palm, "I finally decide to trouble myself with the trip to your workplace and the only thing I get is a sour attitude. Whatever will I do?"

Despite the sincere nature of the words that would flow from your mouth, your dreadfully flat tone betrayed any potential endearment. "How treacherous, for such a doting lover to be so unappreciated."

He smiled, despite all your mockery, always able to find a way to twist each and every little action of yours in his mind. "Precisely, I do believe that you should make it up to me, darling."

You rolled your eyes, "It seems every time I fail to greet you as if we have been starcrossed lovers separated by the cruel writings of fate and time, you believe I have inexplicably wronged you, Ayato."

His hands came to rest on his heart, the sweet jingle of the metals on his attire creating the auditory illusion of the similarly sweet chime of bells. "Because you have!" One of his hands reached forward to rest on your table, "Each and every morning I wake and we are apart, my heart shatters into an insurmountable pile of pieces. Every moment we are apart, my very soul longs to be by your side-"

You waved him off with your non-dominant hand, "Yes, Ayato, you have made all of this clear to me since the moment we were wed. What is it that you want from me? I'm afraid I don't have as much time to entertain you today."

"How cruel," he pouted, "I only wished to invite you out for lunch today."

You raised your brow, still not taking your eyes off your current page. Carefully, you set one packet of paperwork off to the side before setting your sights on another. "What exactly do you 'wish' to get out of lunch?"

There was a saccharine chortle that resounded through the air, "Your company, dearest. I've missed you so." He absentmindedly checked for a clock somewhere around the room, "I do believe I got the time correct, you usually send for your own meal around this hour, don't you?"

You paused, setting down your brush finally. "I suppose I do."

His eyes glistened expectantly, pressing both of his palms firmly on the table. The same cunning smile you used to find so beautiful seemed to only churn a mixed cauldron of negative emotions within the bottom of your ribcage.

"..."

"..."

You sighed, "As much as I would love to join you, I'm afraid your argument falls apart when one realizes I usually work through my lunch. I can't exactly afford to fall behind."

He groaned, his hands shooting forward to grasp at your own. He seemed to completely ignore the fact that you flinched backwards at his touch. Instead, his gloved hands swallowed up your own palms in his, expression desperate as he hunched over your desk. Your eyes weren't very focused on his face when you noticed just how close his pure white sleeve was to a nearly full inkwell. "You work far too much for someone with so many subordinates who are perfectly capable of doing the same job. Surely, you can spare me just an hour? An hour, no more, I swear to you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze from his. "I work because I want things done correctly, I know I can trust myself to complete such matters within the given time frame. As trusted as my employees may be, in the middle of a project as large as-"

He huffed, pressing a kiss to back of your hand, "You're always beginning and ending projects back-to-back, if you don't give your workers any opportunities to prove themselves, will you simply continue to work yourself to death? You don't have a much better chance than this. Give me this one hour, give yourself this one hour, love. Just this once?"

"Ayato-" you tried to warn, however, you were interrupted by this all powerful primal sense of dread as he stood up from his seat across your desk. He circled around you like a hawk before coming to sit by your side instead. One of his hands trailed to your thigh, resting there, innocently malicious. You called his name again, reprimanding intonation, but he seemed to pay no mind.

He rested his head at the junction connecting your collarbone to your neck, just gently ghosting his lips over the skin that remained exposed above your collar. Self-pity washed over you like a flood, accompanied with an embarrassed heat flooding across your face. "This is highly inappropriate at my place of work-"

"Then let's take it out of your place of work." He whispered it tenderly against your neck, nestled right between gentle samplings of your skin. "We can always just go out for lunch too, either way, the decision is yours, darling."

You chewed your bottom lip reluctantly. It seemed, however, Ayato didn't seem to be feeling all that merciful or patient.

He bit down just beneath what would've been visible on your collar.

"Okay, okay- We can go out to lunch, give me some time to arrange for some work to be evenly redistributed." You scowled at his more than satisfied grin, pushing his face away from you, "You are such a headache."

"Yours," he hummed, all but delighted at the outcome of your conversation. He could care less about being unceremoniously being forced to get his grubby little hands off you, instead all but celebrating in his mind as he stood up and dusted himself off.

Yes, you mentally lamented, unfortunately, he was your headache.

'Would you be interested in walking me home?'

"H-Oh shiiiitttt-"

"You're much too loud, if you can't keep it down, I'll leave you here by yourself."

Chinju Forest was quiet and undisturbed a majority of the time, something that appealed to you in your younger years. You enjoyed being invited to the Kamisato Estate as a child just so you could come and sit in the tranquility of the silent trees and the whispering brook.

Pluck off your sandals, toss your socks into the grass and let the tips of your toes gently ease their way into the moving stream. You and the other young heir would come here during your fathers' meetings. Unlike you, when the two of you made your way into the forest, he enjoyed running around.

He liked to skip stones, to hunt for Crawfish underneath the large boulders, run after fireflies in the darkness created by the canopy of trees. While you rested and allowed yourself to turn off your brain, Ayato took hold of his opportunity to be a child. Despite his rather prim and proper nature as an adult, he enjoyed chasing you around with angry cicadas when he was young.

While your sword had seen the punishing end of the hilt in your older teenage years, you hated the idea of filth when you were a child. He enjoyed your screams of terror and the way you'd retreat into the creek, barefoot when he'd come to the water's edge with a screaming bug.

He was your tormentor up until your late twenties, it seemed. Now, you enjoyed tormenting him. To make him uncomfortable, that was your purpose, your passion.

Which is exactly why your pace, like always, was punishing. The grass was soft against his back, but it seemed with each connection of your hips with his you were intent on driving him into the hard ground. He should have felt humiliated, to be defiled against the soil, but he couldn't help the pleasant pulse of ecstasy freely pumping through his body.

His right hand gripped your shoulder in a bruising grasp, fingers coiling around your collarbone. His nails dug into your skin, sure to leave angry little crescent marks in their wake. His left hand was clamped over his mouth, in an attempt to be quieter.

His eyes were squeezed shut, eyebrows curled upwards towards the inner corners of his eyes. Had this been any other time, he would've been alert and at full attention. Drinking in the sight of the man of his dreams looming over him, sweaty and laser-focused on every single arch of his back and every roll of his hips. However, in the middle of the woods, with only the curtain of shadows casted by the tree tops, he couldn't seem to muster up the strength to pull open his eyelids.

What with the churning shame in the bottom of his gut and the surging tendrils of overstimulation coiling through the insides of his you were currently rearranging, he couldn't do it. With the vice grip on his hips and the piercing stare you were aiming at him, it seemed impossible.

"Tell me-" you hissed in between harsh jabs of your hips, "could you really have not waited for me to get home? Was the sole purpose of your trip to my office to lure me into your bed again?"

As much as he might've wanted to answer, Ayato could only answer in pitiful whimpers and whine into the palm of his glove. Each and every single one of them being punctuated with another angry shove of your dick further inside of him.

His eyelids darted open when your attention seemed to shift to the fabric of the glove he was currently biting. Your fingers curled around his wrist and pinned it to the grass next to his head, "Hey-" your hips halted for just a few seconds before moving agonizingly slowly. Just barely enough movement to keep fanning the flames of overwhelming want in his gut, just barely enough to be prodding at his prostate, but slowly enough he was painfully aware of the twitch of his own erection against his stomach. "I asked you a question."

He nodded blearily, shaking his head as quickly as the friction against the nape of his neck would. He tried to let a few words stumble from his swollen lips, but he could only blubber pathetically and push his perineum closer to you in response.

You pulled him to be flush against your pelvis, looming over him with a tilt of your head. "Words, Ayato, use your words."

"Yes- Archons yes- please just keep moving-" he begged.

He mewled with another quick roll of your hips into his, left hand clenching and unclenching around nothing next to his head. "Really? What did I ask you? Did you hear me or are you too much of a slut to think about anything but how to get me to touch you again?"

"I'm a slut-" his back arched up dramatically as your hand smeared the lines of white that painted his exposed stomach against his skin, "I'm yOur whore- hnnn~"

He tried to squeeze his thighs together as another teasing wave of pleasure surged past his senses, another hiccup falling past his teeth. He tried to pull you impossibly closer with his legs, but found the traitorous tremor in his muscles prevented him from exerting any real strength.

"Did you touch yourself during work? Was that really all that was on your mind while you sorted through your papers?" Your hand teased his dick, languid strokes up and down as you watched him seize up in a beautiful curve.

His mouth fell open as another string of curses slid out of his throat like a waterfall. You also couldn't help the grunt that resounded through the air past your own closed lips when he got impossibly tighter around you. You pulled his hair to get him to look at you, "Answer me."

He nodded again, "Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes-" He keened, trying to push himself further into the gentle caress of your hand. "I coUldn't stohoopp thinking about youU-"

You hummed, "So you fingered yourself open over your desk? You didn't excuse yourself to your room or anything? No breaks? Just how long did you sit there touching yourself before my lunch break?"

He shook his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he tried to shy away from your prying leer. "I don't know- ouH~"

"Was it really that long?" You continued to stroke his painfully red dick through another orgasm. "Give me an estimate."

He trembled, only really trying to pull himself together as you started getting slower with your movements. "I-I-" He swallowed, "M-maybe an hour? Ahn~ I don't knohowww-"

He practically choked on his thoughts when you sped up again, pleas falling past his lips like a prayer as he arched up into another release.

You'd been nice enough to take care of him again after your escapade in the woods.

You took him home, explained he'd 'fallen ill' on the way home, and informed the staff (Thoma) you'd be back in around an hour to take care of him after sorting out work affairs.

Just like before, you let him gently wrap you around his nimble finger. Each and every little request was met as long as his words were sweet enough, as long as he played each and every one of his little cards right. As long as he looked pitiful enough, you would let him cuddle up in your lap. If he complained enough, he could convince you to give him a massage.

Sweetly, he would call your name and you'd be at his side. Patiently, you'd brush the hair off of his face and make sure he was comfortable. If he so wished it, you would let him join you in your office while you worked. Of course, while you could hand off your work to others in your company, Inazuma, the Commissions, and politics didn't stop just because he needed the day off.

Instead of getting one of his many retainers to do his work for him, you took it upon yourself to sit yourself down at his desk and take care of it yourself. A husband should be able to understand and complete his partner's job, you told him when he teased you for it. So, despite never having dipped your proverbial toe into the world of politics, you took on the mantle without hesitation.

Paper after paper, meeting after meeting. Later in the day, you even bothered yourself with hand-delivering a few signed notices and making appearances in spots he was supposed to be. It was only understandable you would return home exhausted after that. Still, in your tired daze, you insisted that you would sleep in your office once again.

"If not for me, than for yourself, darling." He pleaded, perched at the edge of the futon in his Yukata. He watched you wander around the room tucking away paper after paper and muttering to yourself. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were to sleep on the ground tonight. You've just about worked your fingers to the bone so I could take the rest of the day off."

You waved him off with a hand, eyes still scanning over a booklet of etiquette that came with a Tricommission meeting. Seeing as the Yashiro Commission mainly served as a cultural regulator and mediator between the two commissions, the tasks of the acting representative during the meeting were relatively simple. In theory, it wouldn't be difficult to allow Ayato another day of rest. All you would need to do would be to resolve any conflicts should they-

"Would it ease your mind if I slept elsewhere tonight?"

You only really snapped out of it when you felt his arms rest themselves delicately around your hips.

"I-" You cleared your throat, "No, there's no need. I can manage just fine with you here."

You felt him sigh against your back, resting his face against your shoulder blade. "So you'll stay here tonight? I'm glad."

You paused, "That... isn't what I meant." You gently pried his arms off of the curves of your waist, snapping the booklet you'd been cradling shut. "I'm a grown man. A sore back isn't a concern I've made a priority for a long time. You can sleep here, I will be fine in my office."

He pressed himself into your back, if not only insisting with his words, than also with his actions. "I don't care if you'll be fine in your office, I care what is best for you. You've worked all day, it's nearly midnight. The futon will comfort your physical ailment if not your mental strain. I can sleep in my own office tonight for a change."

You shook your head, sliding the booklet into one of the many shelves that adorned your walls. "Absolutely not. You will sleep in bed tonight as you always have, I only worked this hard so you could recover your strength. Sleeping on the ground would only-"

He huffed, "If you don't want to sleep in the same room as me, I'll be sleeping in my office. You can't seriously think you'll be able to stop me. If you want me to sleep in bed, you will sleep in the bed with me."

You shook your head, "That-"

You flinched as he pushed you up against the wall, inhaling deeply as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. What made the position all the more embarrassing was your inability to gauge his expression. "Please?"

You sighed, "Don't make this difficult. Sleep in bed, sleeping in my office isn't a bother to me-"

He called your name again, exasperated. "Do I have to sweeten the deal for you in some way? What do I have to do for you to take my offer seriously?" He wrapped you up in his arms again, this time snuggly situating himself around your torso. "I'm tired of only catching glimpses of your grumpy face when you leave in the morning because of the lackluster sleep you managed to get. Just for tonight, I promise. If you don't believe me on anything else, just for tonight I'm asking you to sleep on the futon sincerely out of concern for your wellbeing and not my own selfish desires."

"Ayato-"

He gave your torso a squeeze. In fact, he let you unravel his arms from your figure without any of the usual fuss. "What do you say?"

You shook your head, turning to face him with an annoyed expression, "Go to bed like you do every night, I don't know how many times I need to keep telling you-"

He silenced your complaints with his lips.

He wrenched his arms from your grip on them, going to trail them up and down your sides. You exploded in surprised shudders, unwittingly complicit in his little act of intimacy. Soon enough, he was sinking down on his knees, pressing his lips to your clothed body at random intervals on his way down.

"What are you doing?"

His breathing got heavier as he descended, fingers settling at your waistband. "You only finished once earlier, didn't you?" With a flick of his wrist, he exposed your flaccid dick to the cold air of your bedroom. He gave an experimental lick up the side from base to tip, listening to the sharp inhalation of air through your teeth. He could feel it getting hard under his tongue with a few more kitten licks to the tip.

"If you aren't tired enough to stay in bed as is, I'm sure I could tire you out some more."

Ayato gave a sleepy sigh as he sunk into your chest.

Today, it seemed, you two still had enough energy for some clean-up post-coitus.

You admonished him gently. "Hold still, you'll end up getting soap in your eye." Your hands gently combed through his hair and did your best to swipe the foamy bubbles off of his forehead. You did your best to scrub the sweat off his scalp while still remaining tender.

He curled up against you despite all the space that was left in your rather luxurious bathtub. His legs tangled with yours in your seat, tracing hearts over where yours was hidden beneath your skin. You grabbed the wooden bowl from beside the tub, filling it with water before pouring it over Ayato's head gently.

The suds ran down his back and into the rest of the tub. He rubbed what little soap remained around his eyes before looking up at you. Something similar to a cat purring emanated from his chest, eyes filled with a soft fondness you couldn't stomach head-on.

It would've been nice if he hadn't forced the ring on your finger half a year ago. It would've been sweet, it would've been mind-numbingly heartwarming. But as it stood, you couldn't seem to meet such a gaze without a deep resentment bubbling up in your chest. Even if you might've wanted to fall in love for the sake of your own sanity in the long run, could you really ever learn to love someone like him?

As if reading your mind, he interrupted your thoughts by reaching up to grab the bottle of shampoo himself. "Do you want me to wash your hair too?"

Still, despite knowing he would never do anything to hurt you, to so much as go out of his way to upset you, you could've let yourself to let your guard down to him in the slightest. "No, I can do it myself."

Ayato snickered, "Well, I know you can, but do you want to have your hair washed?" His laughter was soft and domestic sounding, something that should've squeezed your heart gently. Yet, the squeeze felt more like an impromptu strangling. Something hurt when he laughed so mercifully. Something felt extremely wrong when he laughed without so much as a care.

Did he care about you?

Did he have the capacity to care about anyone but himself?

Did he truly love you, or did he love the idea of the two of you together?

He waved a hand in front of your face, calling your name quizzically. "Did you hear me? Do you want me to wash your hair or would you rather just rinse it tonight?" He shook his head, the water droplets that clung to his exposed skin glistening in the low lamplight. "Nevermind, just go ahead and turn around, let me take care of it."

You shook your head. "I can do it myself, you should relax."

He clicked his tongue, "Let me do this one thing for you. You always seem to take care of me and never let me do the same for you. Do you honestly think so poorly of me? There isn't any poison in it."

'Yes', you thought breathlessly, more like admitted it to yourself. 'You did think that badly of him.'

You already told yourself earlier, reassured yourself, he wouldn't so much as hurt a hair on your head if not for your own wellbeing than his twisted ideal of this relationship. You wondered if someday, if you didn't play into this little role he'd assigned you in his head, would he ever grow bored of you?

Would he no longer be interested in playing happy little family with you?

Would he toss you to the side like all the other lives he seemed to treat like objects to creep further towards his goals?

What did it mean exactly to be one of his goals? You didn't know.

The fact that you didn't know scared you.

It scared you more than anything.

Perhaps that was the true reason you wouldn't ever let him care for you. You didn't know what his definition of care was.

"Please?" he pleaded again. He always loved to drop in that magic word whenever you were feeling more open to spending time with him. "You just used the shampoo on me, you usually use it yourself, it couldn't hurt just this once, could it?"

"Fine, but don't draw it out. I want to go to bed soon."

You watched the smile grow on his features as he gripped at the sides of your face. He peppered kisses all over, gracious thanks leaving his lips every moment they weren't attached to your face. You silently let him continue to shower you in his affections.

Finally, when he seemed to be done with kissing you wherever he could plant his mouth, you let yourself sink more into the bathtub. You leveled yourself out to where he could get to your locks.

You leaned against him, though he was quick to admonish you for being as stiff as a board. "Relax, I'm not going to do anything but wash your hair, love. You worry too much."

He planted another kiss to the wet skin of your nape before dumping a generous amount of shampoo into his waiting palm. He rubbed his hands together to gather up the suds before his hands descended upon your waiting scalp with a calculated gentleness.

He seemed to pay special attention to each and every hair on your head. The obvious devotion made you feel like you were squirming in your own skin.

Carefully, he brushed the hair away from your face, lathering each and every lock thoroughly. It seemed as though he was looking for every excuse he could to touch you.

"That's enough, my hair is more than clean by now."

He went to complain, but held his tongue. It seemed he realized just as quickly as you did that you were being far too lenient with him. But it was difficult to stop him at the same time. Usually, you were good at maintaining your boundaries and making sure he knew you weren't going to fall victim to this ludacris script he'd orchestrated in the recesses of his twisted mind.

But throughout the course of the night, there seemed to be one thought that scared you more than what Ayato's definition of care was.

What would he do to you when he stopped caring altogether?

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" hey guys, kicks rocks "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

[bleghxy]

GL manga recs:

Summary: Maki's first love was her high school classmate, a girl named Midori. But Midori broke up with Maki at graduation, saying they were now "too old to be fooling around dating girls." Ten years later, Maki still can’t get Midori off her mind, and when the two women reconnect after a chance encounter, Maki realizes that, while her feelings haven’t changed, Midori has long moved on—in fact, she's engaged. Yet the more Maki hears Midori talk about her soon-to-be-husband, the more red flags she notices. And Midori has another secret, one she hasn’t yet shared with Maki. Will it be the last blow to Maki's hopes that their romance might be rekindled? Or will it be the push that sets them on a new path—one they'll travel together?

Review:

There's so much depth to this. At a glance it looks like a simple story. You read the summary and think oh well it's the same old plot of getting back with your ex but it's not. It deals with heavy topics like abusive relationships, comphet and the fear of being alone. It's very realistic in its portrayal. Both of the women are very well written especially Midori.

Status: Completed

Summary: Cooking is how Nomoto de-stresses, but one day, she makes way more than she can eat by herself. And so she invites her neighbor Kasuga, who also lives alone. What will come out of this dinner invitation?

Review: This manga is such an excellent read. There's so much that I love about this manga. I don't wanna spoil it so I'm gonna let you find out on your own. It points out the troubles women face due to the stereotypical portrayal of them in society. There's a good amount of discussion on lgbt especially on Nomoto's end. I won't say much about Kasuga because I don't wanna mistakenly spoil her past. There are also new characters in vol 3 who are as well written as the main characters. The women in this story are very well written! I really recommend this one! Also trigger warnings are given before anything heavy or disturbing is mentioned in this manga.

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Dani's promising future as an elite athlete is cut short when, during the middle of the television broadcast competition, her heart collapses. This ordeal will not only affect her health, but also destroy her relationship with her mother and skip her tennis career. In order to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city and all its problems, she decides to go with her cousin to the small coastal town Levant and it is there where she will meet Blanca, a girl full of life and love for astronomy who will remind her that life can be beautiful and that Dani can shine again as the stars do.

Review: This is very short but still a good read. Even though I wished it were longer, it still managed to carry out the development between the two main characters. The only issue I had with this is, since the manga is very short, it fails to properly carry out the development between Dani and her mom.

Status: Completed

If you want more GL recs:

[greatdenimbeast]

Diamond castle au- Mephiles as Lydia! The muse of Music, Tragedy and Eloquence

He’s a god, born on Olympus, chosen to be Apollos first muse, due to his prolific musical talents and understanding of tragic stories. Mephiles graciously accepted his position as well as his twin flutes

To him, to be a muse is to be the example, the authority, to have the final say over what people can and can’t do with their art, down to the style and expression.

Mortals were simple creatures, with fickle emotions that easily led them astray. They needed guidance, direction, the ability to create was gifted onto them and they needed to use that gift properly. (More accurately how he deemed it being used properly)

He was content in his care for the diamond castle and the way he ran things… but then Apollo chose another muse. A demigod. A descendant of an underworld god, gifted with full godhood in order to carry out his duties.

Mephiles wasn’t… fond of this decision, working with a mortal isn’t something he had ever foreseen and he didn’t think that this mortal would be capable of taking on these responsibilities. But he chose not to argue with the authority of lord Apollo and welcome the godling into his ranks as a fellow muse. He could be taught the proper ways after-all and, even when he was a mortal, the blood of a god still ran through his viens, this was about a century before Apollo introduces them to another chosen muse.

This one a pure mortal, not even a lick of godly blood in him and yet he was chosen.

Mephiles was completely baffled and infuriated by this decision but held his tongue, something that was hard to do when this… former-mortal was the most ungrateful one he’d ever seen, having as much snark as he had audacity as he clearly did not wish for this decision either

Everything Mephiles told him to do, he did the exact opposite! And if that wasn’t enough! He slacked in his duties! The mortals engaging in his art just did whatever they wanted and interpreted his aspects however they wanted and he just let them! In fact he actively encouraged it! Going down to the mortal realm, in mortal disguise to interact with them. And then, for some ungodly reason, the second muse (who had previously been butting heads with this new muse as well) followed his example!!! It was infuriating, especially when the two started to creating music, and doing whatever the heck they wanted with it! Starting to insist that he could lighten up cuz he didn’t actually have the authority on what people created

The final straw was when the two of them created music that in turn created a little godling (literally, they made a song an poof! Baby!) and the god Apollo proposed that the child train to be a muse

Mephilis wouldn’t stand for this anymore, they didn’t deserve to hold their positions so if they didn’t do things his then he’d take care of all the arts himself! But he knew he couldn’t exactly do anything, his fellow muses, though tainted by their former mortality, were just as powerful as he was. So he ventured down to Tartarus for something give an edge, he found the dark power he was looking for, as well as the dragon, iblis.

So he conspired to take over while tensions rose with the other two muses, what he needed was the instruments to have full control but for people to believe his authority he had to let those two ruin their own image to make him look better by comparison and ruining their harmony to make them more susceptible to his powers

But then Silver found out, told the other muses about him wanting to take over and they hid the castle and their instruments. The two muses tried to confront him and stop him but he quickly put a stop to that, they won’t be doing anything without his say so anytime soon… but the little apprentice got away, seemingly disappearing into thin air. Meph had a hunch that he knew the whereabouts but there was no sign of

His powers still only extended over his domain, so he still needed those instruments… but no matter, he was in charge and he was immortal, he had millennia to wait and there were only so many places that child could hide

[ladymarycrawley]

Forbidden but delightful - Mason Mount

Request: I actually had a imagine request for Mason Mount…where the reader works for him and they’ve always been fond of one another and one day she comes in wearing a guys jumper, it doesn’t fit her properly and it smells like a man. So Mason feels himself becoming jealous, when in reality it’s just her brothers jumper that she ended up wearing because she fell asleep at his babysitting his kids + @anon that asked me sth based on Mase's Nike shooting that got out out in august/september

Warning: none

Tag list: @prideofpd , @johnstonesfc , @chelsealover , @masonxomount , @masterclassbaby

(gif credits to @bracedes)

A thing Mason promised himself he would have never done in his life was falling in love with someone that worked for him or that simply happened to cross his path for business reasons: he knew it would have been unprofessional but, most of all, he feared he would have ended up as the wronged party.

Another thing he knew deep down his heart was that promises are sometimes meant to be broken and the aforementioned one was one of those.

Since Y/N took on the role of his personal stylist she became the ever so present object of his thoughts as she charmed him since day one, when that shy smile of hers made him blush and ask for more, more moments of him in her company. 

He knew she had something special but didn't know what that was, he only knew it was something that made him feel relaxed, at peace with the world around him. It was as if she held an aura of calmness that was never enough for him as his engaged lifestyle required a lot of it.

Needless to say they got along instantly and, as he was one of the most appreciated footballers on the planet, she soon became one of the most envied women for spending so much time with him. That time they would spend together wasn’t related to fashion matters only but quickly spread to their spare time too: after their work for a magazine, Mason invited her over to his house to celebrate their first job together.

In the meanwhile, on her part, a small sentence he said to her like “I’d like you to always feel at ease when you’re around me, we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to but I’d like you to be totally yourself” was what made her like him as soon as his brother Lewis introduced him to her. What he expressed was quite an easy concept not to be taken for granted as a lot of famous people would likely treat their employees as servants, making their business life miserable but that wasn't his case.

Everyone loved Mason for being a down to earth guy, a family guy that always had the most beautiful smile painted across his lips and that smile was the second thing that made her weak to her knees: it could light up a dark room faster than artificial light and warm her heart at the same speed.

The second time it was her turn so she asked him to join her in going to a club in the centre of Manchester. It was just the prelude of their game of looks, subtle and unintended touches, sweet words. All of that happened without them even realising it as it felt so spontaneous, so right.

The crucial moment in their professional as well as personal career was when the Red Devils player was asked to feature in the next Nike Underwear campaign as one of their latest posterboys.

“That’s huge, I can't believe it” She kept on saying in disbelief as he was in a delighted mood too. That was probably the biggest job she got until then and they were both buzzing.

“I’m sure all the girlies will love me even more after this shooting” You joked, alluding to the shirtless pictures of Mason that would soon reach every corner of planet Earth through the worldwide coverage they would have had.

He blushed a little and chuckled. “Yep and they’ll probably hate you a little too cause you’re stealing their place”

“Me?? I’m just doing what I’ve been hired for and just got you the biggest shooting to date”

“Yeah but don’t flatter yourself sweetheart”

Sweetheart? Y/N would have never thought of hearing that nickname coming from his mouth and above all, addressed to her. The shade of bright pink that painted her cheeks after that exchange of words, matched her geranium skirt and that combination didn’t go unnoticed to her client who smirked, quite pleased with what his sentence ignited in her.

They both gave each other knowing looks, a look that made Mason’s heart beat faster and Y/N’s legs shake.

The stylist cleared her throat with a fit of coughing before looking at the time on her phone screen, deciding it was time for her to go home before things would have gone out of your hands.

“Are you already going home?”

“Yes, I have erm - a friend over for dinner, yeah” She nodded as if she was trying to convince herself to buy her own lie. 

“Do I know her? Oh wait, is it your best friend?” The Englishman didn’t really care about her guest, he only wanted to spend a couple more minutes with her and make sure she wasn’t seeing any guy he would have to compete with.

“No no, you don’t know her…” She said dismissively, putting her bag on her shoulder.

“Is this mysterious friend a guy you haven’t told me about?” He said, crossing his hands and trying to sound as chilled as possible.

“Please! Not interested in any guy right now” Yeah, in any guy that wasn’t called Mason Mount. “Really have to go now, my house is a mess and she will be there in less than an hour… see you tomorrow, Mount, don’t be late cause we’ll check your Nike’s outfits out!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t…have fun tonight”

“Yep…thanks”

They almost whispered their goodbyes with a hint of sadness and delusion in their voices, as though neither of them wanted to leave each other nor wanted the other one to be left alone but the positions they were in forbid any kind of romantic relationship: it would have been too complicated and too risky.

The very risky thing though was the task she had to undertake the next day: some Nike people met Mason and Y/N at the sportswear brand’s headquarter in London and shared a quick chat to get to know each other better, before skipping to the part where they would explain the shooting they had in mind for Mason to be featured in.

She gulped the moment they showed them the underwear models they could have chosen among.

Y/N’s mind soon got crowded with not safe for work images, as the sight of the Manchester United player’s toned body covered only in a pair of tight boxers, smiling at her began getting more and more vivid.

She shook her head when the Mason in her mind bit on his lower lip and seductively brought his hands to his sides to take off the tiny piece of clothing covering his lower body.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Oh yes, yes I’m so excited for this you have no idea” She laughed.

The people working with them smiled and left the room to do God’s knew what, leaving her and Mason alone.

He chuckled, lowering himself to her level so that his lips were close to her ear and whispered “Bet you’re more aroused than excited for this job”

You widen your eyes and hit him on the shoulder.

“I’m fully focused on my work, wasn’t thinking about anything vile”

“Even if you’re thinking about it that would be nothing wrong with it…I won’t tell anyone about your secret crush for me”

“Stop it! How old are you? 15??”

Mason giggled and swiftly pecked her cheek. “I love it when you get annoyed at me”

If someone would have seen that scene they would have thought they were a couple, a cute couple but sadly it wasn’t the truth and maybe would have never been…

Y/N arrived at work the day of the Nike shooting some minutes late and she entered the venue out of breath.

“Hi! Sorry everyone, stuck in traffic and it was horrible” She justified herself panting. What she just said was a white lie because she had nothing to do with London’s traffic: the night before her elder brother asked her to babysit his children because he had planned a night out with his wife and forgot to call someone to look after those two rascals that spent all the night shouting and running around the house.

She tried to say no when he asked her that favour, as she had a big day coming on but he said he really needed her help.

So she fell asleep on the sofa, after battling to put her nephews to bed, waking up just in time to go back home in a rush, begging her brother to give her a lift, and put on some knee-high boots that would have complimented that oversized grey jumper she borrowed from him to fight the coldness of the night.

Mason raised his eyebrows when he saw her, recognising immediately what she was wearing was a man’s jumper.

She styled it as if it was a dress and she looked so hot in his eyes but couldn’t stop thinking she must have spent the night with some man, that’s the reason why she was late.

The shooting went as planned: Mason looked genuinely flawless and sexy in that underwear, smiling at the camera and she kept on biting her lips as she couldn’t help thirsting over him as he looked nothing but hot ... that infatuation for him would have been the death of her.

She thanked that one person that asked for a little break because she needed a giant cup of coffee and some fresh air.

“You look good” Those were the first words she said to Mason that day.

“You too”

“No way, I look hideous as I’ve barely slept and arrived late on what’s the most important day in my career” She blurted annoyed at that, something unforgivable from her point of view.

The footballer started biting on his nails as he was clearly nervous and maybe needed some fresh air as well as she did.

“This…” The strong smell that tickled his nostrils interrupted him “...this smell, where does it come from?”

“Oh I think it’s my jumper” Y/N admitted shyly, referring to the garment that looked huge on her.

What Mason noticed made her blush, as if he caught her red-handed while doing something inappropriate and he glanced at her sideways, as if that inappropriate thing she did disappointed him somehow.

“It still smells like him...” She said under her breath but he still heard her and couldn’t help but widen his eyes in shock: in his head they’re perfect together, smiling and laughing every day, even subtly flirting so he thought she was single and he could go on courting her but now she’s wearing another man’s clothes? The poor man was confused to say the least.

“You told me you weren’t interested in any man…”

“And I’m not”

He raised his head and smiled quite relieved with the real explanation behind all of that.

“So why are you wearing another man’s jumper?”

“Oh god Mase, are you jealous?? This is my brother’s. He asked me to babysit his kids last night and took this because I was cold and in a rush so it was literally the first decent thing I’ve found”

“Oh well…I was ready to mock you for your walk of shame actually”

“No dear, you’re dying for me to tell you I haven't slept with anyone last night and now you’re joking only because you didn’t get angry” You giggled, offering him a cup of hot coffee.

“Can I take you out tonight?”

“Mason I- I don’t think that’d be a good idea, I mean we’re working together”

“I know that but I’ll do my best to keep things separated, I promise” He gave you puppy eyes, making you giggle.

“If you wanna try…”

“You don’t wanna try?”

Of course she wanted to, she'd been dying too…and she'd been dying to know what his lips tasted of too: she quickly glanced around to make sure all the people involved in the shooting were still out and unexpectedly kissed him, the coffee flavour on his lips mixing with her nude lipstick.

“Now go on posing, nothing happened!”

Nothing could swipe Mason’s smirk off his face as he brushed his thumb over his lips that now tasted like her.

“Yeah...nothing happened”

Mixing work and private life wasn’t something they were willing to do but sometimes breaking the rules has that forbidden charm that brings to one’s soul the highest of delights and that’s a risk worth taking.

[spdrvyn]

Perhaps a request for Miggy x scientist reader? Reader is a a former Alchemex scientist who used to work with Miguel. They have been working in spider HQ ever since the beginning of spider society. Both of them have been too busy to realize the bottled up feelings and emotions that is about to burst….

breaking beakers

miguel and a reader that's been by his side since day 1. since the treachery of alchemax, you've been loyal to miguel and his cause for protection of the multiverse. read bit by bit how your relationship with miguel develops, even if it's only something as simple as helping him administer rapture.

angst. drug usage (rapture). panic attack. absolutely love this request! i've never written a story where the reader was already a part of miguel's past so this is new and exciting for me. thank you, anon! i put my own twist, i hope you still enjoy reading ♡

dividers by @cafekitsune

breaking breakers

When you got paired up with your workplace's assigned asshole, you were more than concerned for your career than ever. 

Miguel wasn't easy from the start. Arguments were one after the other, followed by complete silence in the lab due to the inability of either of you to take accountability. You had never really heard him talk or engage in conversation properly unless it was to scold or correct you for making, according to him, a quintillion mistakes. 

It stretched you thin, you were close to asking the higher-ups to give you another partner, but you knew that they would ignore your protests so you put up with it. Besides, talking smack with your friends outside of work helped. Though, you knew that they were getting a little tired from it as well. 

After a particularly harsh argument with him, you couldn't retaliate with anything witty to say. You sulked in your own corner of the laboratory for a while, until Miguel silently placed a small, steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk. 

That moment had triggered the beginning of your actual relationship. Sometimes, the room would still be strung tight with tension, but it was better than awkwardly hanging around each other and waiting for yet another fight to start. It slowly turned into Miguel giving you rides home, Miguel buying more than just coffee for you, and Miguel staying at your place after he dropped you off.

Then he quit. 

Or did he get fired? Liberated, in corporate terms. You didn't know the full story, you got a new lab partner one day, Miguel was gone, there was no coffee on your desk anymore. There was no comfortable silence. 

It was difficult to get a hold on him with the moments that followed, you knew well that he had a tendency to brood, but never for this long. He didn't leave you on read, your messages weren't even going through. You searched his name up on social media and found nothing, a thousand other Miguels but not your Miguel. You reached out to his brother after a lot of thinking, but he couldn't come up with an answer either because his family didn't know where he went either. 

Perhaps it shouldn't have upset you as much as it should have, Alchemax viewed their employees as expendable toys. You didn't mean to get attached to him, but you had breached that line very long ago ever since the first shouting match. He was your friend now, no corporation was going to get between at least trying to talk again. 

When you had gotten a message from an unknown number, there were only two possible answers. A telemarketer or Miguel. Likely possibilities, a fifty percent chance for either. You thanked God that it was the latter. 

The power that was held in that conversation had changed the trajectory of your life forever. Miguel helped arrange a time for you to meet, the second you caught sight of him, it erupted a feeling in you that you just couldn't bring yourself to describe. 

He still looked like him, but otherwise different. His face looked more sunken in, eyebags, lines you hadn't seen on his face before. He was definitely taller, his physique was more built as well. What caught your attention the most though was his eyes, crimson red and deliberately drained of light. 

Miguel, what happened to you?

It was a long, overly extensive talk. You shouldn't have broken down over it, the events that lead up to his timely demise at his job. It wasn't your place to cry over his misfortunes, but he looked like he didn't have it left in him to cry so you took that place for him. Alchemax was your breeding ground for innovation and evolution of human society, a little shady around the edges, but you knew that you'd still be helping people in the end. After this, your hopes in that place had been quashed. Clearly if they were heartless enough to treat one of their top geneticists like this, they wouldn't be any better towards the safety and care of the populus. 

So you quit your job immediately. Miguel invited you to Spider Society and you gladly agreed, you were in no position to really decline. Besides, it was a good way to get you back on your feet again. You had become acquainted with the people that passed by in what used to be headquarters back then, Miguel trusted them with his life it seemed (despite him not being able to admit that himself though).

You'd find yourself in HQ more than in your own apartment at that point, you enjoyed being there. You had closer friends, Spider-People were better company than mad scientists anyway. You helped Miguel make this new, exciting thing from foundation to the top. It helped you become more social, it made you more comfortable opening up to people again. 

You just didn't know that it was doing quite the opposite with Miguel. 

You had blamed yourself for not noticing sooner, for not picking up the details that he wasn't doing as fine as he thought he was. When you found the doors to his office locked, you already felt your heart begin to race. You called out to Lyla and she was more than willing to answer back, "He's going through something, he hasn't really been taking his Rapture doses recently and-"

"Let me handle it," you said, firmly. "I can help him. I can fix it." 

Lyla looked at you, just looked. She didn't feel, she wasn't supposed to feel exactly. She could act like it, her programming allowed her that at least. She made perfectly calculated decisions and perfectly calculated reactions to them, when she noticed a problem, she was supposed to fix it. 

You weren't as accustomed to Lyla as other people, but you were aware of that as well. In spite of that, she still managed to be the light in conversations most of the time. Literally, when it was the dead of night, just you and Miguel strewing and caking together more reports, she'd find ways to make it more entertaining. 

That means if Lyla looked at you like she did, with so much uncertainty and inner conflict. It was like her code turned to beat like a human heart, you could hear it in the swift moment of silent she'd left you in. The hiss and whir to Miguel's office doors reeled you back in, Lyla sighed. She shouldn't sigh, she never sighed. 

"Do the right thing," she wished you off. God, I hope so, you thought to yourself. 

It was dark, obviously. You were used to it, ever since Miguel told you about how sensitive his senses can get, you didn't really mind at all. There was still light that peeked from the corners, a small monitor here and there, maybe a secret window you just didn't know about. It was cozy sometimes even to evade the blinding sunlight and stay in the darkness with Miguel. But that's not at all what it felt like when you entered. It did not embrace you, it suffocated you.

There was no accompanied noise either, no beeping from a monitor, no whirring of a machine, and no idle chatter with him and Lyla like there would always be. It was the purest form of silence, the sound of your breathing and the small pats of your shoes against the cold, metal ground was all you could hear. 

Miguel's platform was placed high up, there was absolutely no way that you could get to him without using a web shooter. Unless you could somehow convince him to lower his platform, which you really didn't want to do in the case you might accidentally say something stupid. 

"Miguel?" You yelled, stupidly. Though, it would be more stupid to try and propel yourself up to the height of his platform. One option results in humiliation until the end of your life while the other option could result in the end of your life. You weren't really looking forward to experiencing the latter.

You thought you heard him mumble something, but before you could call out his name again, he answered back. "Get out." 

The absence of cruelty in his tone was prominent to you already. He didn't have the heart to speak so coldly to you in the first place. No, he sounded scared, fearful, whether it was of you or himself, you were yet to find out the reason why. The priority right now was to talk to him, properly.

"Are you sure about that? I have a, uh, really important work file that I need you to review! The multiverse is at stake here, Miguel. Come on!"

Silence. For a few seconds. Before you heard the unmistakable click and whir of his platform, it makes its slow descent down towards you. Miguel begun to enter your vision, he had a chair pulled up and he was hunched over on his desk. Rare, you knew he liked to work when standing (oddly enough). 

"You're a bad liar," he grumbled, not even facing you as he said it. You sighed as you stepped onto the platform, placing your hands on your hips. 

"I wasn't lying, but your doors were locked and Lyla told me that there was something going on here." Miguel mumbled something else under his breath that you couldn't catch, he simply goes back to what to whatever he's doing. Which you really couldn't allow, but you couldn't push yourself into this. With him, there was always some sort of process. 

You took the moment to observe your surroundings, it was unbearably messy in here. A feat that he'd somehow been able to achieve despite being way past the age of papers, there was clutter everywhere. From beakers, liquids of mysterious origin pooled around from here to there, and even... Blood?! 

Your attention had snapped back to Miguel and that's when you had started to notice, how his shoulders rose and fell faster than usual, his hands ruffled in his hair, the rapid successions of his breath. 

"Miguel," Shock the process. Shock waiting. He clearly wasn't okay, you knew that to the fullest now. In three short strides, you were already by his side. "What's going on?"

He shook his head. Okay, you didn't want to press him too hard into talking, but this wasn't something that you could leave alone. Hesitantly, you placed a hand on one of his shoulders. He flinched, so did you, but right now, you needed to be the strongest person in the room so you kept your hand there. 

You tilted your head to the side, just so you could see his face, but he avoided your gaze. What entered your sights however was a discarded needle gun, yet to be picked up, and a few claw marks on the table. 

So this was the Rapture that Lyla was talking about. You hadn't a single clue what it was when she mentioned it, you pretended because you thought that she'd lock you out if you hadn't. Even then, there isn't much you could deduce aside from the fact that it was a drug Miguel had to take. You heard very little about the Rapture studies back in Alchemax, it was very classified, and you wish you would have pried more. 

"Do you need help with that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. Your thumb drew small circles into the muscle of his shoulder, his hands fell from his hair to his sides. He slumped back against his chair with a big sigh, and he nodded. 

Shakily, you picked up the gun. There was no seat for you to take, so you decided on sitting on the table. When you leaned down, the nanofabric of Miguel's suit had dissipated, revealing the fullness of his arm to you. You attempted to steady your hands over the exposed skin, Miguel doesn't even wince as the little needles pierce through. 

It will probably take a little while for the vial to empty out. You stewed in the silence with Miguel for a while, you'd usually use this as an opportunity to make conversation, but judging from his current state, he probably isn't one for talking. 

You released the breath that you were holding in when it was finished, you set the device for the side. Your hand remained on Miguel's shoulder the whole time and it tightened as you asked, "Is there–"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm just-" Miguel took a deep breath. "I'm- not ready to talk about it right now. It's a lot, sorry for bothering you."

He still wouldn't look you in the eye, you looked down to his hands and saw him tugging and pinching at the fabric of his suit. He'd calmed down a little now at least, but still. You couldn't help but feel like you've failed somehow, you tried to put on what's supposed to resemble a smile to him. "Okay, that's fine." 

When he dismissed you and let you (told you) to leave him alone, you promised yourself that you'd wait. You'd wait for him to be ready.

But maybe he never will. 

[undersprite]

2024 Comic Contest Results

Before we get started, I would like to extend a personal thank you to everyone who created an entry for the contest this year. Although we only got four entries this year, those four entries' dedication to telling stories that are novel and interesting for this community to enjoy is worthy of commendation in itself. For a while, I was scared we wouldn't even get enough entries to fill the podium; thanks to your efforts, this has not come to pass.

Since we have very few entries this time around, I'll be providing a link to each comic, with accompanying scores and excerpts from reviews. Now, catch the results under the cut:

Runner-Up: "The Undertale Game Comic" by FutureGamer25

(Average score: 15.5/50)

"As the submitter says, this was made in a day. I can’t be too hard on this out of principle..." - Soufon

"[...it] succeeded at making me laugh multiple times, thanks in no small part to how it deliberately wields nothing looking like it fits together." - CHAOS_FANTAZY

"You know, honestly for being made in less than a day and being posted 5 minutes before the deadline, I gotta give you a lot of credit for that. I don’t even think I could have made that in a day [...]" - Mufeet

"The freaking car and the ending got me a good chuckle. I'll give you that. I congratulate you for tossing your coin." - Subna

3rd: "Frisk Visits the Store and Nothing Happens" by Trooper3

(Average score: 34/50)

"I thought Sans and ESPECIALLY Papyrus were super funny [...] I think we’ve finally reached a point where the skele-bros are just consistently characterized properly now, and I love to see it." - Mufeet

"The FunMart[TM] makes an earnest effort to capture the feeling of exploring an area in an actual Toby Fox game, and [...] captures at least a bit of that shine." - CHAOS_FANTAZY

"I honestly like your idea, is funny and it works perfectly to show these OCs of yours in this format. I wish there was more content to see about them, I wish to know them [...]" - Subna

"As light as it is, I like having this kind of slice of life look into UT’s world, the comedy focus helping to make the comic feel more breezy than insubstantial." - Soufon

2nd: "Undertale: Pushing On" by Mouse

(Average score: 34.75/50)

"Of all the entries we got, this is the only one that really felt like it captured the essence of telling a story as if it were still part of a game—something I have sorely missed." - CHAOS_FANTAZY

"Great story and great teaching from it. Can add up greatly to UNDERTALE’s world and...tbh I’d LOVE to play a full game with Alvia." - Subna

"[...] I like having who [Gerson] is in UT be because of Alvia’s actions, like how the orange soul kid is framed as responsible for the bunny family in Snowdin’s success - having all the soul humans impact the underground like that helps all of them feel real to UT’s world[...]" -Soufon

"I was captivated from beginning to end, and god, the ending [...] it actually made me a bit teary-eyed." - Mufeet

1st: "Knock Knock" by StarlightShores and ToMoChao

(Average score: 47/50)

"I was not expecting something like this out of this contest. Knock Knock is a substantial storyline, not a peek into an adventure, or a silly reprieve." - Soufon

"Even if it’s pretty lengthy, it keeps you engaged, to know where this is all going, all the way to the end." - Subna

"Flowey and Sans pair-ups are so rare, but when done it is ALWAYS such a fun time. They both play off each other so well, and it is no exception in this comic, especially towards the end where they start to bond over dealing with the loss of someone important to them." - Mufeet

"You created a story going on a thousand panels where, while reading it, my attention never flagged [...] You created a webcomic the Undertale fanbase will, if there’s any justice left around here, be obsessed with for years to come. It’s art, I’m afraid." - CHAOS_FANTAZY

Our full score card for the event can be seen here. The full reviews will be available in the Discord server on request.

With regards to prizes: the judge whom was contributing to our prize pool has begun college for the year, and unfortunately they were unable to set aside the money they had originally promised for the cash prize. The illustration prize is still available; winners, please reach out to fmsdraws on Discord to claim your prize.

And that leaves me...with this blog.

I'd like to write up a proper postmortem for this experience, but that can come in another week or two. For now, please enjoy the comics and celebrate the victors!

[beweepbomp]

I NEEDED TO URGENTLY VENT BECAUSE IDK WAHT ELSE TO DO.

A lil background. I knew my sexuality as like early as 12. I had two gfs but never anything physical. Now as adult trying to venture out to physical things with another woman. This person we will refer to as Lizzy, from the convos we had never was with a woman in any manner ever but interested to try with me. Okay now this is the insane shit i went thru. enjoy.

Lizzy matched on tinder with me and she asked after some great chit chatting to exchange #'s. Sounds great what could go wrong. After several back n forth spicy texts of what we want to do finally we say hey we should definitely meet up. A few days pass by to finally our meet up date. Science. Ghosted. Okay no biggie. 19 DAYS LATER “Hi i got busy how are you?” I brush it off things do happen and I’m trying to be reasonable. I reply with a hello. No reply again. 40 DAYS LATER “How are you?” At this point I roll my eyes. This is not worth the energy but wow she’s actually replying back idk maybe just shit happens. She tells me it’s been a busy summer travel & work. Okay fair. She shows me cute magnets she made and tells me she’s house sitting.

After a few text exchanges she’s asking me to come over. I get hesitant but she insists. WHAT COULD GO WRONG I SAY? I text her I’ll get ready and take an Uber over. Let me tell you i was giving femme hotness. My skirt was so hiked up. My cute shirt low v cut. Had a jean jacket since it was late into the night. I’m jittery with excitement. I call my best friend she gets the address and says to text me after etc. I order the Uber which was $30+ DOLLARS but i was too excited to care. In the middle of my Uber drive she texts she’s having a panic attack and throwing up. I feel awful. Did i freak her out? But i kept reassuring that we don’t need to do anything physical even when i arrive. No pressure. Assuring to have full consent before engaging in anything. But she insists she’s stuck in the bathroom throwing up and to turn around. Now I’m over 20 minutes away from my apartment around 11:30pm in the middle of the damn suburbs. I arrive and ask by text if i can just sit in the living room until the next Uber comes she says no. I’m outside alone in a foreign place terrified. I video chat with my best friend explaining the situation and she’s in shock as well. Putting me in danger in the middle of nowhere , just alone. Just perfect. My gay ass in the wind trying to remain calm since the streets are barely lit and i have no immediate way home. The connection to data is shitty but im able to order another Uber. Another $30+ out of to go back. But it’s fine no one’s fault right.

She insistently asks texting when my Uber will ber here. My connection isn’t great but it shows 9 minutes. It’s been at least 8 minutes now but the Uber isn’t properly showing the accurate time. My best friend what a god send kept me sane as i waited but a car pulls up and it definitely isn’t my Uber. “Oh i thought you were the girl im meeting with.” OH MY GOD i laugh almost loosing my mind. I point to her house, “oh no no she’s in there.’ Thankfully my Uber arrives as the guy calls out you’re beautiful. Oh thanks bud. Lizzy texts me to say that’s my friend helping me with my panic attack. of course i say seriously you have to be fucking joking. I freak out on her thru text and she insists she’d never intentionally try to put anyone in danger and every other excuse in the book and STILL try’s to see if we will meet up again. Of course i tell her she is fucking nuts and maybe next time be a hospitable hoe if you’re gonna be a hoe at all. I’m not against it but also don’t make a crazy lie and embarrass me. I have no idea im like crushed to seek out afraid to have the same experience of wacky shit. What do i do???? Help pls

[thebibliosphere]

Hi! How are you doing? Sorry to bother you, but i dont know many scottish people and idk who to talk to about this book I found on audible. It's called Imogène, by french author Charles Exbrayat. Do you know him /the book? I've started reading it but I had to pause because, while being sold as a "humorous spy story" I find the protagonist, a "very proudly scottish" woman, to be... an offensive caricature? Like she acts like a fool, honestly. This book contains some interesting points about sexism (it was published in 1959), and ridiculous british habits (such as employees forced to give money for princess anna's birthday or being socially scorned). I'm sure the shared dislike / distrust the protagonist and her british colleagues feel are (were?) realistic. But she is so extra, and the story keeps telling how lonely she is, even after working 20 years in london. She has No friends, most acquitances dont talk to her for various motivations, her bosses hates her ... idk I feel this book is actually mocking scottish people? Or scottish women??? I was SO there for a "strong woman protagonist who gives cutting remarks to her boss or peers", but this looks wrong. Idk. I didnt know whom ask for inputs. Maybe i'm reading too much into it. Feel free to ignore this mega rant. Have a good day!

I think cultural and historical context and time of publication-- which was almost 70 years ago --are important factors to take into consideration when we look at fiction through our current expectations.

I can’t speak to the book as I’ve never read it, but speaking as a Scots woman who worked for an English publishing house for a while, being made to feel alienated by my boss and others due to being Scottish was unfortunately still something going on in 2011.

I’d get lots of “Oh but you sound so eloquent” remarks regarding my thinned-out accent (something I did on purpose to avoid being told to “speak properly” which was also something I heard a lot in school if I ever used my native Scots language instead of “Queen’s English.”) and one time my boss referred to me as “their civilized Scot” to an American author, whose Scottish romance book I was supposed to be fixing the dialogue on.

The phrasing was along the lines of, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to understand her. Joy is our civilized Scot.”

The author laughed and made another derogatory comment about how they just loved Scottish accents even if it was unintelligible a lot of the time. I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to lose my first career job.

I kept my mouth shut a lot in that job.

In that regard I could very well empathize with the character being lonely and not engaging with anyone, even after 20 years.

The proud Scottish woman can be a bit of a caricature, but that doesn't necessarily mean it is intended as mocking.

Again, cultural/historical context matters.

I wasn’t alive in 1959, but I know there was a lot of Scottish media about the time that leaned into the stubbornness and pride of Scots women both for humor and to make societal commentary on the fact that women were strong and more independent than they’d ever been following two world two and a lot of men weren’t happy about it and wanted them to go back into their boxes. As a result the mouthy, proud Scots woman became a mockable caricature that turned women into shrill, over proud scolds.

Get back in your box or we’ll make fun of you, basically.

So is this book being mocking, or is it employing popular tropes of the time, knowing that audience will understand what it means and that the female protagonist is being subversive despite what others expect from her?

I can’t say. Again, haven’t read it. It could be utter dogshit and making total fun of my culture. But I do think when looking at older media we need to put our thinking caps on and think, “How would the audience of the time, 1959, have viewed and engaged with this?”

Expecting a “strong female protagonist” as we know it from media today isn’t going to work with media that’s almost 70 years old.

Hell, the “strong woman protagonist” wasn’t even something any piece of media could agree on when I was growing up in the 90s.

Times change. Literary tropes and preferences change. It helps to keep that in mind.

[onyxmilk]

Hello! Can you write about spy x family? (I'm obsessed with Loid) where OC is engaged to Loid/Twilight and becomes jealous of Yor.

Sorry, English is not my first language.

Twilight x gn!Reader; "Jealous"

notes; i love some twilight fanfiction, esp because everything is freaking SMUT (last time i checked)!!! we need some sfw ish in here!!! tw; Reader uses They/Them pronouns!, jealousy wc; 1.2k

Twilight and [CodeName] both got married on a whim for the benefits inside their spy company, neither did they expect to actually fall in love and want a proper marriage with each other, but they did! They were one of the cutest couples around, and when they worked together they were the absolute dream team. They would get the mission done and thensome, do some afterwork, clear the paperwork out, the two would go the extra mile to make sure no one had to clean up after them. 

When [CodeName] and Twilight renewed their vows because they ended up falling in love for more than mutual benefits, the two decided to go a little big. [CodeName] wore the most extravagant clothing, and Twilight wore a tailored suit to his liking. The couple held a huge after ceremony, inviting most of the company to join and celebrate their marriage. It may sound uncharacteristic for Twilight, but it was most definitely in character for [CodeName]. 

During the couple’s dance, as they were following tradition, [CodeName] leaned into Twilight and whispered “[YourName],” No explanation aside from a single name that left their lips. Twilight looked confused at first, but then it clicked- [CodeName] was dropping their real name. Twilight smiled warmly, bringing his partner in for a kiss. Twilight had long forgotten his name, but to know that [CodeName] entrusted him with such personal information brought warmth and joy to his heart. Especially on such a special night like this. 

[YourName] didn’t need to know Twilight’s real name, all they needed to know was that the man loved them and that he was accepting no matter what, which Twilight was. They just thought it would be a cute detail to drop on Twilight in the middle of, what the couple considers, their first real dance together as a ‘properly’ married couple. That night, [YourName] and Twilight got home, took off the over-the-top clothing, changed into pajamas, and shared a nice glass of red wine on the couch while watching some old TV shows that [YourName] enjoyed. 

It would be about three years later that [YourName] had to be put on a mission that placed them across the country. With a sadden face, [YourName] said their goodbyes to their husband and kissed Twilight one last time before them and a few other agents were shipped off. Twilight would be out of commission for about a day before he recovered, maybe he and [YourName] needed this split because the two of them were so dependent on each other. 

The two would always reference each other as partners for each other, and because the couple did work so well together and cleaned up after one another without needing a second thought, they did get paired up together what could be considered all the time. Now, sometimes [YourName] would be paired up with another person and other times Twilight would be paired up with a different person, and it never shattered each other. But being away from each other for months really took Twilight aback and he just needed a day to recuperate. 

During the few months that [YourName] was gone, Twilight was placed in charge of Operation Strix, which forced Twilight to find a wife and child. It had been quite some time since Twilight had to fake such an in depth relationship, and without [YourName] here to confirm that it was okay, or better yet have them play the role of his partner, he felt a little sick to his stomach. But a mission was a mission and it needed to be done. 

He wouldn’t get comfortable in his position, but he would get a better understanding of becoming a father in case he and [YourName] wanted children. Every day, when [YourName] was still out on their mission across the country and wasn’t here to call or see him in person at the hospital, Twilight thought about how different the mission would have been going if only [YourName] was around to assist as per usual. For some reason, he felt he’d be further in his investigation. Perhaps because they were truly married and didn’t have to put on some act for the world to see, or because perhaps the two of them have talked about a family before and this would just fill that hole temporarily. 

One day while at the hospital, looking over some papers, Twilight got a call that he was needed in the lobby. He had assumed that perhaps a patient was having a breakdown and needed some comfort from their doctor. Instead, nurses were welcoming a new nurse. “Loid!” His co-worker greeted as they walked over to him, “Have you seen the new nurse? Not to be unprofessional, but smoking hot,” The co-worker laughed but Twilight rolled his eyes while pretending to humor the thought, looking around for this new person. He didn’t expect to see [YourName], dressed in scrubs, holding a cup of juice, and laughing with a few of the other nurses. 

Twilight blinked a few times, a huge smile on his face when he made his way over. A few of the girl nurses giggled before shying away, while the guy nurses simply roamed off to allow Loid and [Name] to talk. “You’re back,” Twilight whispered, half shock and half relief flooding his face. “Mhm, and I’m assisting you on Strix. I’m a nanny on the side.” [YourName] replied in the same whispered tone. Twilight’s heart broke a little at the news, that was the last thing he wanted [YourName] to see; him acting as if he had a wife in front of other people. “I understand, are you caught up?” Twilight asks and with hesitation [YourName] nods their head. 

It would be a few days later that Loid brings up the idea of hiring a nanny to assist with Anya during the week. The nanny would come in the afternoon, help out with homework and study time, then head home around dinner. Yor of course thought the idea was wonderful and let Loid make a list of people, which most were fake just so they had no choice but to hire [YourName]. 

A few days later, it was a Saturday, Loid and Yor sat together on the couch while [YourName] sat on the chair across from them. Yor, to make their relationship look believable to the naked eye, wrapped her arm around Loid’s arm. It took everything in [YourName] not to break right then and there and claim Twilight as their own. They knew that this was for the mission, but unfortunately, jealousy doesn’t understand that. 

The interview went great and Yor agreed with Loid that [Name] should be hired, “Let me walk you to your car.” Loid offered. This was mostly so they could get alone time together before the night ended. “Do you enjoy a clingy wife?” [YourName] asked as they walked out the apartment complex, Twilight was taken aback before shaking his head with a small chuckle- he had never seen [YourName] jealous before and it was quite cute to witness. “No, darling, she simply wanted to sell what people think her and I have. I love you no matter what.” Twilight promised, opening the door for [YourName]. 

[YourName] nodded slowly, smiling eventually. “I want to kiss you so bad..” [YourName] says, “I know, one day soon, dear.” Twilight replied, allowing [YourName] to get into their car and he shut the door before stepping aside and watching [YourName] drive off to wherever they stayed for the night. Twilight hoped that they would stay at their home, so they could be around a familiar setting and smell familiar smells.

He wanted them to be comfortable, for [YourName] is his partner, and they are his.

[hana-no-seiiki]

MATCHBREAKER

inspired by TAWOG’s “The Matchmaker”episode. aka damian asserting his dominance the prequel. everyone is aged up and legal.

pairing: yan! batfam/teen titans x kitsune! reader

status: unedited

[ prequel to this fic ]

Damian had finally come to terms that he may have a crush on you. As evidenced by his large collection of photos, clothing and drawings. But, along with this came a slew of obstacles.

Now you see the biggest problem about his crush on you was that a lot of people also had an obsession with your magnificent self, mainly Garfield and Rachel. In addition to your newfound relationship with the former, Damian was in shambles.

And Rachel, not realizing Garfield was actually serious about his flirtations towards you, may or may not have created a love potion that he ended up stealing and dosing you with.

“So you’re saying that the reason why I’ve been suffering these past few days weren’t because they genuinely loved each-other, but because you. screwed. up?!”

Dick shook the magic-user back and forth. You had been outright rejecting his advances these past few days in favor of actually being loyal to your boyfriend and it hurt his poor ego; shattered his heart. Not only that but the two of you would engage in such aggressive PDA he wouldn’t be surprised if you two started boning during a fight.

“No, it’s because they’re just destined to be together— yes, Grayson! I screwed up!” Rachel shoved him off of her. Dusting her cape before readjusting it to cover her entire body again.

“And Garfield didn’t consume any of this Love Potion, you speak of?” Kori thought back to the times Garfield outright said how much he loved you. He was quite shameless but he never got serious or confident enough to properly pursue you when the entire team was after your affections.

“That’s. . . all on him. The Love Potion works with just one recipient.”

“That little—“

Damian interrupted Jamie from swearing, an even graver look on his face as he commander. “Titans. It’s time to play Matchbreaker.”

PLAN A: FE[A]R OF COMMITMENT

The plan of attack included several strategies. Each carefully thought out before hand. Well, for the most part.

“[Y/N] hates commitment. What if we scare them by making Garfield propose?” Jamie proposed, the beetle behind him pulses its lights in agreement.

“On it.” Tim got to working. In just an hour he had a site and link to lure you in. Running on pure determination to keep you away from Beast Boy, it wasn’t a challenge to make an elaborate trap by hacking into Garfield’s account and messaging you. That, and considering you’re a bit of a boomer. You didn’t really question much of what was happening.

“. . . You’re invited to a wedding with Garfield?” You read aloud as everyone watched with bated breaths.

But instead of reeling in disgust, it’s almost as if hearts started growing out of your eyes as you squealed, “Awe~! A-ccept!”

Everyone deflated in defeat. Some looked to Rachel in scorn. “I may or may not have increased the dosage to . . . almost unbreakable levels.”

“Why?!”

“As . . . practice. . .” Rachel looked away, using her cape to partially cover her face.

The rest of the titans collectively sigh.

“Nothing a little finesse can’t fix.” Dick cracked his knuckles.

PLAN C: [C]RIME OF PASSION

“[Y/N]. You look stunning today.” Nightwing approached you. A smirk on his face that would look menacing if it wasn’t from your friend.

“Thanks, Dick — I— “ You waved at him only for your lips to meet his seconds after. You struggled to push him away, but that only worsened the situation and prompted him to insert his tongue.

The worst part of the whole situation being that Garfield just walked in to witness that.

Rachel and Damian appeared behind him, courtesy of the former’s magic and with the latter holding a baton in his hands. “What’s this?”

“A crime of passion.”

The two were prepared to knock out Garfield if he did seriously attempt hurting you. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all, and since he wasn’t affected by magic everything should go according to pla-

“But they’re too good not to be shared!”

“Alright folks, get the big bird off of them!”

Dick was knocked out by Jason and Victor, effectively putting him out of commission for the next . . . several plans.

PLAN F: [F]URRY LOVE

“Okay who named this plan, exactly?”

Rachel questioned as she looked through the blueprints and diagrams on the board (Yes, they were being that thorough).

Victor coughed at her comment.

“Before we start this properly I can at least make one of his transformations last a while so they don’t . . . “ Do the hanky panky. Everyone thought in different levels of crassness in their head.

“Do it.” The entire team wordlessly agreed, if there was anything they’d do everything to stop it was you getting down and dirty with the green young adult.

After an intense mission and just as Rachel’s spell dictated, Garfield was stuck in his gorilla form. “I- I can’t turn back!”

But the heroes seemed to forget that you also had a furry form and did not mind Garfield’s in the slightest, even cheering him up by saying, “It’s fine, honey. It just means there’s more to love!“

“GET THEM AWAY FROM EACHOTHER, NOW!” Victor screeched in horror, circuits frying from the terrifying sight he’s witnessing.

After promptly blasting the two of you apart for a bit, the team members hurried into their positions for the second half of the plan.

“Quick, get the lice!” Kori hollered at Jamie who was fumbling around with the box of lice he bought online. She then lifted him overhead, allowing the blue suited man to cover his former friend (he didn’t consider him a friend anymore at this point) with the insects.

“Ack! Why am I feeling so itchy?”

“Let me help you with that—“

You two are swiftly sent to different parts of the state before things get too nasty.

PLAN L: JEA[L]OUS DAMIAN (actual name: [L]eft Nut)

It has been almost a week since they started unleashing their plans upon the couple but the Titans and co. didn’t gain much ground. Your infatuation almost worsened as the days went by, and keeping you away from Beast Boy was close to impossible when your specialty in the team was stealth and espionage.

“Demonspawn? Hang on — what are you-“ Jason, who had a perfect line up for Garfield’s scrotum raised his hands in annoyance, watching through his scope as his younger brother suddenly swooped in to grab you from your boyfriend and ruining his shot.

“Well . . . That works.”

Once Damian had you secured in his room, he slammed you unto his bed.

May it be from the shock of sudden movements or seeing your own crush hovering over you, the effects of the Love Potion broke and you leaned upwards to kiss your leader.

You two spent hours tied up together before you eventually pulled away. Meeting the youngest Robin’s still angered face you laughed awkwardly,

“Ahaha . . . I’m screwed aren’t I?”

“Oh Habibti, you can’t even imagine.”

Damian was unsure of his future with you. What he was sure of was that this little fox needed a leash, and what leader would he be if he didn’t assert his authority?