#and it’s always a cool and surreal experience

[void-kisses]

Just close your eyes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

900 words

Warnings: gn reader, vague description of implied panic attack

Post case anxiety is hard to deal with on your own. When it strikes on the jet and everyone else is asleep, it falls to your more than a friend, less than a boyfriend to help you calm down.

After an incredibly long case, there is nothing you love more than decompressing on the plane. Your response –to relax as soon as you pass the threshold– is near Pavlovian at this point.

The soft hum of the engines is like an oath, a promise that home is on the way and the case is over. You should feel safe. You sit in one of the chairs, expecting calm to come to you like it always does, but it doesn't. As you sit on the cool pleather seats, your heart leaps into your throat. It feels like your head is packed full of cotton. You swear there must be rubber bands wrapped around your chest, preventing you from inhaling any more than a half breath.

Everyone else on the team is asleep. It's fair enough, considering how brutal the case has been on everyone. Hotch –who hadn't slept in what you're pretty sure is at least 48 hours– has passed out, sitting up with a folder still open on the table. Even Garcia is sound asleep. She’s been off all week. She always is when she’s brought along on a case. It makes you calm ever so slightly to see her dozing off on Morgan's shoulder. At least she found some peace.

You're left utterly alone with a creeping weight pooling in your stomach, choking your thoughts like a thick smog. In what should be peace, comfort, resolution, you find no closure. Maybe it's the long nights with only grisly autopsy photos to keep you company, maybe it's the way one of the mothers was screaming when you visited the crime scene, maybe it was the haunted look in the eyes of the last victim you managed to save. Dread sinks into your stomach. It coils in your gut, writhing like a snake. You can't place it.

A paper rustles. It's Spencer. You hadn't realised he was awake. He's usually a bit more active, bouncing his leg or tapping his fingers on the desk. It’s odd to see him like this. He looks so peaceful on the other side of the jet. The sight of him so calm feels surreal, given the looming sensation of dread settled over your shoulders. As a sting of panic wracks through you like lightning –no explanation in sight– you feel the urge to seek comfort in him. Not just an urge, a need. You've been something more than just friends with him for a while, but you've never needed him so badly before.

You're too nervous to approach. He looks so peaceful. You don't want to bother him with this. You wonder if you deserve to bother anyone. A shiver runs through your body, and suddenly you’re on your feet.

He looks up from the book that he's skimming as you approach. His eyes crinkle as he sees you. You feel picked apart in an instant. Under his gaze, you’re laid bare. His sharp mind must have already diagnosed everything wrong with you the instant he laid eyes on you. He hesitates for a beat. Then he puts his book to the side. With a slight shuffle, he makes room for you to join him.

Spencer's arms wrap nervously around you. He guides you down to lie with him. The two of you are precariously crammed on the sofa, at risk of tipping at any moment. His fingers twitch against your arm. He's held you before, and it always takes him a few minutes to get used to the sensation.

The soft wool of his vest scratches against your cheek as you listen to the soft thump-thump of his heartbeat. His chest rises and falls, tight breaths gradually becoming slower as he relaxes into you. He's tentative when he initiates, but by the way he grips your shoulder, you know he craves affection. He licks his lips, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

"You know... It's not uncommon to experience unexplained anxiety after a prolonged period of stress. The increase in cortisol can lead to hypervigilance, which can result in anxiety symptoms appearing when there's no apparent reason," he mutters, the words flying off the tip of his tongue as he draws circles against your back.

He speaks like he's expecting you to cut him off at any moment, but you never do. The longer he holds you, the more he seems to relax from his initial awkwardness. He smells like bergamot and a faint hint of vanilla. There's a spare bottle of this cologne in your medicine cabinet. He smells like home.

"It's… documented, pretty common, even," he continues abruptly. "It's normal for this to happen to agents sometimes… In fact, most agents report delayed emotional responses."

His touch helps make your heartbeat slow back down again. You even hadn't realized it was going so fast. You're sure he knows what he's doing. He's probably researched exactly how to calm someone down from this.

"Physical touch can help..." he offers, softening his voice further. “It releases oxytocin… you know what, nevermind.”

He retightens his grip on you. With a slow exhale, he positions you to lay on top of him like a blanket. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cupping the nape of your neck. He settles in, tucking your head under his chin. He picks up his book again, settling in for the rest of the flight.

He'll be here with you. For the next three hours, for forever if you’ll have him.

[luna-the-cretar]

So earlier at work, a guy (I’m guessing he worked at the ranch down the street) came in to pick up an order, and I swear to god, he had the EXACT OUTFIT that Andy wore for Shepherd during CoS. Like, down to the exact color of the shirt and hat.

This man was in my store today

[canidbutch]

people being outright hostile and nasty about caramel and damocles are kind of like. Willfully Ignoring The Point.

[er1nne]

interviewing drew for queer (do not copy or plagarize, original work)

The buzz of the red carpet was a living thing, pulsing with life as cameras flashed and excited voices carried over the barricades. You adjusted the hem of your pants again, smoothing it over your hips even though it didn’t need it. It was instinct, a way to channel the energy that simmered just beneath your skin. The red carpet was alive with energy, a sea of lights, cameras, and glamour that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night. You stood at your designated spot, microphone in hand, scanning the line of arriving guests with practiced ease. This wasn’t your first premiere, but tonight felt charged with a different kind of anticipation. 

You glanced at the crowd gathered just beyond the velvet ropes. Fans pressed against the barricades, their phones out, waving signs and shouting names. Somewhere behind you, another journalist was calling for their next interviewee, their voice competing with the noise of the evening.

You swallowed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited for your next interview. Your grip tightened on the microphone, the smooth surface cool against your palm. You’d done this countless times before, but tonight was different. This wasn’t just any film premiere—it was Queer.

The buzz around the project had been relentless. Raw, intimate, and deeply personal, it had stirred emotions before a single frame had even been released. And now, you were moments away from speaking with one of its stars. Drew Starkey.

You glanced down at your shoes, adjusting your stance and mentally rehearsing your questions one last time. You were prepared. You always were. But there was something about him—something about the way he carried himself, about the way he seemed to pull everyone’s attention with such ease—that made your nerves feel sharper tonight.

When you looked up again, there he was.

He moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, his tall frame cutting a striking figure under the bright lights. The black suit he wore was simple but impeccably tailored, fitting him like it had been made for this moment. His hair was perfectly tousled, the kind of artful mess that looked casual but probably wasn’t.

And then his eyes found yours, they locked on you like a spotlight, and for a moment, the noise of the red carpet seemed to fade. The corners of his mouth lifted into a small, easy smile, and before you could fully process it, he was in front of you.

“Hi, Drew,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “Welcome. How does it feel to be here tonight?”

His smile widened as he slid his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxed but not careless. “It feels… surreal,” he said, his voice warm and measured. “Exciting, overwhelming, maybe a little nerve-wracking.”

His voice was low and even, carrying a weight that made you lean in slightly.

“Nerve-wracking?” You raised a brow, tilting your head slightly. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That’s the trick,” he replied, leaning in just slightly. His voice dropped, soft enough that only you could hear over the noise around you. “Pretend you’re calm long enough, and eventually, people start to believe it.”

“That’s a powerful way to put it,” you said. “Queer has been described as raw, vulnerable, and deeply human. What drew you to this project?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as though searching for the right words. “It’s a story that matters,” he said finally. “It’s not just about one experience—it’s about the universal truths that connect all of us. Identity, love, loss, finding your place in the world. It’s messy, and it’s beautiful, and it’s real.”

The way he spoke, so deliberate and thoughtful, made your chest tighten. This wasn’t just another press soundbite—it was personal.

“And your character,” you pressed gently, “what was it like stepping into his shoes?”

Drew’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but there was something introspective in his expression. “Challenging,” he admitted. “And not just because of the emotional depth. It forced me to confront parts of myself I hadn’t looked at in a while. That’s what great stories do—they reflect you back at yourself.”

You nodded, his words resonating in a way you hadn’t expected. The noise of the red carpet faded further as the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

“What do you hope audiences take away from it?”

He exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he considered your question. “I hope they see themselves in it,” he said. “Even in the parts that feel uncomfortable. Especially in those parts. Because that’s where growth happens.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a ripple through you, and for a moment, you forgot the cameras, the crowd, the lights. It was just Drew, standing in front of you, baring a part of himself that felt achingly human. As he spoke, his hand gestured lightly, and for a moment, his fingers hovered near yours—close enough that you felt the faintest hint of warmth. 

“That’s beautifully said,” you replied, your voice softer now.

His eyes held yours for a beat longer, and then his smile returned, lighter this time. “Thanks. You’re making this way too easy, by the way.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Easy?”

“For me,” he clarified, his grin widening. “I usually have to work harder for good questions.”

You laughed, the sound breaking the tension in your chest. “Well, you’re welcome, I guess.”

As the interview wrapped up, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “By the way, you’re good at this.”

The words sent a flicker of warmth through you, and you barely managed a reply before he was gone, disappearing into the next wave of flashing cameras. The warmth of his compliment lingered long after he pulled away, his grin softening as he straightened and offered you a small wave before heading to the next reporter.

Later, as you replayed the conversation in your head, the memory of his gaze lingered most. It wasn’t the kind of look meant to charm or deflect, but one that seemed genuinely curious, as though he were studying you in a way that felt both disarming and personal. The faint warmth of his compliment echoed in your mind, and though you tried to shake it off as professional politeness, a part of you couldn’t ignore the quiet connection you’d felt in that moment. It wasn’t just another interview—it felt like something more.

AN: i can't wait to see queer! love drew to pieces

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Morning Kisses.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!!

authors note - happy birthday to my one true love, honestly, can’t put into words how much he, his music and just his being has had an effect on my life. here’s to thirty-one!! 🥂

word count - 700.

in which, it’s the morning of harry’s birthday and what better way to wake him up then with kisses.

The early morning light seeps through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. The world outside is still quiet, the city not yet stirring, but here, in the warmth of your shared bed, time feels suspended.

You wake first, your body instinctively curling closer to his before your eyes even open.

Harry lies beside you, his breathing slow and steady, his face softened in sleep. His curls are tousled against the pillow, a few stray strands falling over his forehead.

The faintest shadow of stubble dusts his jaw, and in the gentle light, you can see the way his lashes fan against his skin. His lips, slightly parted, hold the trace of a peaceful dream.

Thirty-one today.

A thought that lingers in your mind as you take him in, memorising every detail, as if you haven’t done this countless times before.

His bare shoulder peeks from beneath the duvet, the curve of it strong yet relaxed in slumber. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, reassuring. The warmth of him radiates beneath the covers, a familiar comfort that has long since become home.

You reach out, barely brushing your fingers over his arm, the heat of his skin meeting yours in a silent connection.

Carefully, you reach up and brush a stray curl away from his forehead, your touch featherlight, not wanting to wake him just yet. But you can’t help yourself—the quiet adoration swelling in your chest demands to be expressed.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his temple, lingering just a second before moving down to the bridge of his nose, then his cheek, your lips barely grazing his warm skin.

You’re just about to press a kiss to his lips when a deep, raspy voice interrupts you.

"Are my lips going to get a kiss as well?"

His voice is thick with sleep, slow and heavy, his words melting into the quiet of the morning. His lips curve slightly, eyes still closed, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, like he’s been awake just long enough to feel you moving against him, to soak in the affection you so freely give.

Your heart stirs at the sound of him, the warmth of him, the way his presence alone can make you feel like the safest, softest thing in the world. He shifts slightly, his body stretching beneath the duvet, muscles flexing as he sinks further into the pillows, waiting.

And, of course, you oblige.

There is a softness in your embrace, a tender interplay of delicate touches that transcends the need for words. The gentle rustle of sheets accompanies every subtle movement, as you press your lips against his ones.

The closeness of your bodies creates an intimate cocoon, where the only language is that of touch—a language that tells of love, adoration, and the beauty of shared vulnerability.

Time seems to dissolve in the cocoon of this quiet moment, as you explore the contours of his face with soft, lingering kisses.

The intimacy of the make-out session evolves naturally—a slow, meandering journey through the realms of affection and desire.

Every soft, deliberate caress of your lips, every tender press against his skin, feels like a silent vow to cherish him on this day and always.

In these moments, the world beyond the confines of your bed fades away. There is only the gentle interplay of warmth, the quiet murmur of your heartbeats, and the soft interplay of skin and breath.

The morning air, cool and crisp against the heat of your shared passion, lends a surreal quality to the experience, as if the very elements of nature have conspired to celebrate the love that fills the room.

As you lose yourself in the blissful intimacy of the moment, your heart overflows with gratitude for this shared life—a life where each birthday becomes a gentle reminder of the love and tenderness that defines you both.

With every kiss, every soft, lingering touch, you reaffirm the silent promise of devotion and the timeless beauty of being in each other’s arms on this, his special day.

“What do you want to do for your birthday, sweet boy?” You muse, pressing one last kiss to his lips.

He smirks at you. “— I have a few ideas.”

[bluetimeombre]

: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to

You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.

[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others

yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!

809k likes. 304k comments

user: wait, you're in wonka?!

user: I LOVE YOU!!

user: mother giving us content, as always

tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me

yourusername: no

tchalamet: pls!!!

user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?

user: slayyyy

user: isn't wonka supposed to suck

tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see

yourusername: girls got to earn a living

tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow

user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!

user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us

wonkamovie: 😍😍

balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'

'I need your help.'

'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.

'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'

you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.

'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.

'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'

you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.

'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.

you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.

you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.

timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.

'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'

'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.

'you killed it,' you assure, casually.

'thank you,' he smiled.

'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.

'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'

you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.

'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'

you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'

'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'

ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.

'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.

he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'

'thanks man.'

'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.

timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.

'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'

'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.

'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.

you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'

'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.

'i do love london,' you agreed.

'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.

they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others

tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes, 609k comments

user: he posted! he posted!

user: we are getting FED

user: i just know this is all yourusername influence

user: not kylie liking...

user: statistics! statistics!

liked by yourusername

yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!

yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one

user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close

user: like fr she stealin my man

user: i love them!!!

user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth

user: she's just like us!

user: LOVE!!!!!

user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie

user: plssss, i love kylie

user: is wonka a musical

user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!

user: fave bob dylan song?

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others

yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!

tagged: tomblyth

1m likes 477k comments

tomblyth: lots of love my dear !

user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it

user: MOTHER

user: parents are parenting

user: I LOVED THIS FILM

user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf

rachelzeglar: my luv &lt;3

yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!

joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me

yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you

joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??

tomblyth: she's the boss

user: how is she so amazing in everything

user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank

user: hi!

user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed

user: i need this film injected into my veins

user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!

tchalamet: very proud

yourusername liked tchalamet's comment

user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating

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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!

user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her

user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?

user: no because i thought the exact same thing

user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute

user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?

user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?

user: they haven't confirmed it

user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him

user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him

user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet

[windor-truffle]

HOLY SHIT IT'S REAL

@windor-truffle graces remaster!!!!!!!!

[bloodbruise]

@jegulus-microfic | april 26: aimless | 1,276 words | trans! regulus

james does regulus' tape binding aftercare <3

James lingers in the doorway, quietly observing Regulus in their softly lit bathroom.

He's perched on the ledge of the bathtub, seemingly lost in thought, his head bowed and fingers idle and aimless where they trace the rim of it. He's shirtless, clad in only boxers and socks. His bare thighs press against the cool porcelain, causing goosebumps to rise there. Soft, late evening light leaks from the window, casting gentle shadows against his frame. 

Outside, the rhythmic passing of cars punctuates the stillness, their headlights casting golden beams that dance across the wet asphalt. The nearby stoplight's red glow mingles with them, creating a surreal mix of colors on the shimmering pavement.

There's a soft rustle of movement as James enters the room behind Regulus, moving to the sink. He sifts through the contents of their vanity, hands passing over their shared face wash and the cup holding their toothbrushes to retrieve the items needed for Regulus' tape aftercare. Deft hands gather oil, washcloths, cotton swabs, and salve before placing them on the bathtub ledge. He approaches Regulus with a tenderness reserved only for moments like these, for him. 

"Ready, love?" James' voice breaks the silence with a mellow murmur. He settles his weight behind him. 

Regulus turns his head, giving a small nod against his own shoulder. "Yeah," he says, voice crackling from disuse. 

James leans in to press a kiss between Regulus' shoulder blades. He lingers there for a moment. This close, he can see the faint dusting of freckles that mark his back. They're spattered across the skin like spray from a wave on sand. Speckles in shades of russet, sepia, and chocolate dance across his pale skin, shifting as Regulus shivers lightly. As James' lips leave his back, the muscles beneath those pretty dots tremble.

James reaches for the oil, uncaps it, and warms it between his hands. He presses both his palms to Regulus, carefully smoothing the oil over the edges of the tape. His touch follows the span of the tape from Regulus' back, under his arms, to the front of his chest. His movements are slow and practiced, designed as much to reassure as to treat. The oil glistens slightly on Regulus' skin, catching the dim light as it begins to soften the adhesive.

As they wait for the tape to loosen, a comfortable silence settles over them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city and their own quiet breathing. James doesn't stop his ministrations; his fingers continue to trace gentle paths along Regulus' shoulders, the back of his neck, following the delicate contours of his shoulder blades. These moments are so special to him; he wants Regulus to feel loved through his actions, to experience the same palpable surge of affection with each pass of his hands that James feels. There is so much trust that Reg offers him in these moments—it's intimate. James is the only person Regulus allows to see the most vulnerable parts of himself, and that knowledge alone makes James' heart swell with fondness and love. He has never loved someone as he does Regulus.

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus. 

Sometimes, James thinks Regulus was crafted specifically for him; as if the cosmos themselves conspired to mold him to perfectly complement the contours of James' own body, his own soul. Looking back, it's almost silly to him now—he thought he knew what love was like before him. His heart was already overflowing with it for Sirius, his mum, his dad, his friends. He's always had big emotions, brimming with affection and fierce protectiveness for the people around him. He's always cared deeply and felt profoundly, but nothing could have prepared him for the depth of feeling that Regulus brought into his life.

James knows nothing, nobody else could ever make him feel like this.

He settles his hands on the edges of the tape on Regulus' left side. "Gonna take it off now, okay?"

"Yeah, okay James. Go ahead"

James pulls at the tape gently, easing it from the skin. He's careful not to pull too hard or move too fast, patient as he works. He grabs Regulus' bicep, thumb pressing into the underside, fingers curling over. "Lift your arm up, Reg," he instructs softly.

Regulus raises his arm, holding it aloft as James' hand moves back down to steady the skin being separated from the tape. He can't resist pausing to press a kiss to the underside of his bicep before continuing to peel off the tape there. When he encounters a tough spot, where the tape still clings to his skin, James reaches for more oil. He warms it between his fingers once again before lightly holding the piece back, rubbing it into the seam between Regulus' skin and the tape until it loosens enough for him to continue. He carefully removes the first piece, then works at a second, a third, before repeating the process on Regulus' right side.

There's still a faint trace of leftover adhesive where the edges of the tape once were. So, James takes a cotton swab, dips it in oil, and meticulously traces the outlines left by the pieces. He moves slowly, with deliberate delicacy, mindful of the soreness of his skin.

Once he's satisfied, James fetches the washcloth. He soaks it in warm, soapy water and carefully cleans the area, wiping away excess oil and any lingering traces of the day. Then he reaches for the salve—the last physical part of their routine, though James knows the comfort it brings goes beyond just the skin. Two of his fingers dip into the container, scooping up the soothing balm. James is so careful with him, his fingers so gentle as they spread the salve, taking extra care with the tender skin under his arms and over his ribs. He traces the rungs of them, then the dip of his chest, making sure no skin is left uncared for.

James then grabs what's technically his own shirt—a worn, soft thing that Regulus has claimed as his own, his favorite pajama top—from the ledge of the sink. He helps Regulus slip it over his head, taking advantage of every second he allows him to be so close, to take care of him.

"Feeling okay?" James asks once Regulus is settled.

He trails his hand at the hem of his shirt, slipping it underneath to rest gently on his stomach, careful not to brush the newly cared-for skin or his chest. 

Regulus hums an affirmative, "mhmm." Eyes closing and head tipping back as he nods.

"I'm not just asking about your skin, love," James whispers. It's tough for Regulus sometimes, taking the tape off, sitting with his chest. It's a necessity though, for his well-being, despite the discomfort it brings. And James always does everything within his power to make it easier for him. He knows he can't fix everything, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to.

Regulus reaches back, his palm sliding from James' elbow to his hand beneath his shirt, their fingers intertwining at his stomach. Their faces are so close that Regulus' cheek drags against James' as he turns his head, planting a soft kiss on James' cheek. "I do, I feel okay. I promise," he murmurs, giving James a warm smile.

Leaning back into James' frame, Regulus lets his weight settle comfortably against him. "You make it easier," he breathes out, words floating into the space between them. Another kiss, "Thank you. I love you."

James holds him a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, heart swelling just a little bit more. "I love you too."

[im-not-a-ghost]

Crush series : what they tell their friends & family about you

Group 1 | 10 of cups, 6 of wands, 2 of pentacles, Temperance

This person can't help but to brag about you around them. They just feel so giddy when it comes to you that it's just impossible to them not to talk about it. They may tell their loved ones about how good and safe they feel with you, how they've never felt like that before. They may say that they feel lucky they met you. But I feel like they try to tone done their optimism and happiness, for fear of being laughed at or disappointed. I pick up on the energy of someone that tries to downplay their interest or feelings. Like "oh I just love group 1, they're so funny and cool but really there's nothing between us, we're just good friends" type of energy. If they talk about you, I feel like they do it in a indirect way. They never mention your name straight away. They may say things like "my friend", "someone I know", "a person", "a colleague" if you work together or "a classmate" if you go to school together. They try to play it cool but the smile on their face whenever they talk about you betrays them lmao If they have openly stated to their loved ones that they were interested in you, they may say things like "I like them but I'm not sure", "I want to see where this goes before I invest any further in this connection". In the deck that I used, the 2 of pentacles depicted a snake biting it's tail, like the Ouroboros, but it had an infinity symbol shape. And the Temperance card depicted an angel. So this made me feel like they might think that fate brought you two together. They may express how your presence feels like a miracle. "I can't believe I met them, this feels surreal". They may express that a part of them doubts the reality of this experience they're going through, which would explain their cautious approach.

Group 2 | 3 of cups, King of cups, 8 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles

With these cards I get the feeling of someone keeping their thoughts to themselves and not wanting people around them to know how they feel about you. This person may be spiritual and/or superstitious. If they've talked about you around them, it's only to a very few number of people that they trust. And even if they did, they didn't say much. This person keeps things very professional or formal when they talk about you. They always mention trivial facts but they never talk about how they truly feel. This person feels very shy. They're not the type to open their heart and trust people easily. If they could talk about you freely, they would tell them that they feel very protective over you. That you bring the best out of them and make them very happy. They think that you are a positive influence in their life and you are very precious to them. They would say that they are willing to work very hard if it ensures your happiness and comfort. They want to provide for you and be a realiable partner for you. They would say that they like you a lot, that even they are surprised at how easily you were able to get past their walls and become such an important presence in their life. That you make them want to be a good person, a loving person. Someone that you could count on and go to in times of need. They would say that they have the most fun when you're around and they wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. You make them feel alive.

Group 3 | 3 of pentacles, 9 of pentacles, 2 of swords, queen of cups

This person mainly talks to their friends. They don't mention you to their family. When they talk about you, they mention your work ethic, your independence, how cautious and fair you can be with others. They say that you are generous and caring, curious, patient. That you spend a lot of time learning, working, doing humanitarian work. That you are pretty guarded and serious. That they don't know what to think of you sometimes. That they feel like you don't really care about them because you seem to be doing fine on your own. That they don't know how to approach you without disturbing your flow. They say that you are a person that should not be messed with and that they have to think carefully before stepping forward. They say that you probably don't need them in your life. That they feel so little compared to you. They tell them how amazed they are by you. Maybe they are trying to get advice on how to communicate with you. They may tell their friends that they would like to get to know you as a friend first or be business partners. They say that they don't know you enough to feel really in love with you but that they are too curious to just ignore you. For some, maybe they are saying that they just want to keep things casual, since you are so busy and independent. This person may also be single and very focused on their work. It feels like both of you are quite emotionally unavailable. So they tell everyone that keeping things casual with you seems like a good option for now.

[castielscaplan]

Owe My Life (Jasper Hale)

Summary: Jasper and Reader comfort each other after she was attacked.

WC: 880ish

Warnings: mentions of an attack, some blood,flangst

Read on Ao3!

--

The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked pine, a damp mist clinging to the mossy forest floor. The overcast sky barely let any light through, casting the woods in an eerie twilight, but you had long grown accustomed to the gloom of Forks. You leaned against the rough bark of a tree, trying to steady your breath, your heart pounding in your chest from the events that had just unfolded.

Jasper stood a few feet away, still as a statue, his amber eyes sharp and watchful as they followed your every move. His face was calm, but you could sense the barely-contained tension radiating from him like static electricity in the air. He always had a way of keeping everything under control—even himself, when necessary—but you could see the strain in him now.

You touched the side of your neck, feeling the faint sting from where the rogue vampire’s teeth had grazed your skin. It could have been so much worse. If Jasper hadn’t been there...

“I owe my life to you,” you said softly, the words heavy with the weight of everything that had just happened. You weren’t sure how else to express it, the gratitude and the fear mixing into something that felt almost surreal.

Jasper turned to you fully, his brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied, his Southern accent slipping through the words, smooth but serious. “I did what I had to do.”

You shook your head, pushing off from the tree and stepping closer to him. “No, Jasper, you saved me. I—” The words caught in your throat, the gravity of the near-death experience settling over you like a shroud. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did…”

He was in front of you in an instant, his cool hands gently holding your arms, steadying you in a way only he could. His touch was always so careful, so deliberate, as if he was constantly mindful of his strength, of the fragility of your human body.

“I’m always going to protect you,” Jasper murmured, his golden eyes locking with yours. “You don’t ever need to thank me for that.”

His gaze was intense, filled with a depth of emotion that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface with him. He wasn’t like the others—not as polished, not as perfectly controlled. There was something raw about Jasper, something that made him feel more real, more tangible despite the fact that he was immortal.

“I just—” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know what you struggle with. I know how hard it must have been for you... after what happened.” You glanced down, remembering the brief but deadly scuffle, the scent of your blood in the air. Jasper had stayed in control, but you had seen the flash in his eyes, the momentary flare of hunger quickly replaced by the cold, calculated soldier he had become in a fight.

Jasper’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t let go of you. “It’s nothing compared to losing you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, their quiet intensity making your breath catch. Jasper had always been protective of you, but this felt like more. Like a truth, he’d been holding back for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “Jasper, I don’t want you to keep thinking that you’re a danger to me. You’re not.”

His eyes softened, but there was still a sadness there, something deep and old and worn from centuries of guilt and self-loathing. “I’m always going to be a danger to you,” he said quietly. “That’s just the truth of what I am.”

You reached up, gently placing your hand on his cheek, feeling the cool smoothness of his skin beneath your fingertips. “Then let me decide if it’s worth the risk,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “Because for me, you’re worth it. Every time.”

Jasper closed his eyes briefly, as if the weight of your words was too much to bear. When he opened them again, there was something like relief there, a softening of the sharp edges he usually kept around himself.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “Stronger than me.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He didn’t smile, but there was a gentleness in his expression that made your heart ache. “I mean it.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the quiet of the forest, the world outside feeling far away. The danger had passed, but the bond between you had only grown stronger in its wake.

“I don’t need you to owe me anything,” Jasper said after a long pause, his voice softer now, the tension finally easing from his frame. “Just stay with me. That’s all I ask.”

You nodded, your hand still resting on his cheek, feeling the coolness of his skin against the warmth of yours. “Always.”

And in that moment, despite everything—the danger, the uncertainty, the darkness that always seemed to linger around you—you knew that you meant it. Because with Jasper, you were never alone. And no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

[hurriane23456]

Trading Spurs for Sneakers

Tyler and James had always thrived on their shared sense of adventure, but this time, they were about to push the limits in a way they had never done before. When Tyler invited James to stay with him for the week, they came up with a challenge: not only would they swap clothes, but they’d wear full-body silicone suits that made them look exactly like each other. They’d go out in public as each other, and for the entire trip, they would live in each other’s skin—literally.

Tyler’s style was straight out of a western catalog. His wardrobe was filled with rugged denim, thick leather boots, and plaid shirts, all carrying the earthy scent of the outdoors. James, on the other hand, was all about streetwear. His clothes were sleek and oversized—designer hoodies, joggers, and fresh sneakers that gave off an urban, stylish vibe. The idea of stepping into each other’s style was thrilling enough, but the bodysuits took it to another level.

When James arrived, Tyler showed him the silicone suits. They were disturbingly lifelike, each one a perfect replica of the other, right down to the tiniest details—skin texture, hair, even the faint freckles on Tyler’s arms. The suits were smooth, soft silicone that would cover them completely, with zippers running down the back, meaning they’d need to help each other into their new bodies. Attached to the suits were masks, just as detailed, transforming them from head to toe.

“So, you ready to become me for the next few days?” Tyler asked with a grin, holding up James’s suit.

James ran his hand over the suit’s smooth surface, already feeling a shiver of excitement. “Only if you’re ready to rock some streetwear,” he teased back.

They headed to the bedroom, and that’s when things got interesting. Tyler helped James first. He unzipped the back of his own silicone replica, and James stepped inside, sliding his legs into the suit. The silicone was cool against his skin at first, but it stretched perfectly, molding to his body like a second skin. As Tyler pulled the suit up, James slipped his arms into the sleeves, feeling the soft material hugging his muscles, creating the illusion of Tyler’s broad, rugged physique. Tyler tugged the mask over James’s head, adjusting it carefully so the silicone fit snugly over his face. The cool sensation of the mask pressing down, forming around his nose, cheeks, and forehead, was strangely comforting.

When Tyler zipped up the back, James couldn’t help but admire the feeling of the suit fitting him perfectly. It wasn’t just wearing Tyler’s skin—it *felt* like Tyler’s body. Every movement was smooth, every gesture natural. His hands, now Tyler’s rough, calloused hands, flexed as he stared at the mirror. It was like he had become his friend, in every possible way.

“Your turn,” James said, voice altered slightly to sound like Tyler’s.

Tyler grinned and stepped into James’s bodysuit. The experience was just as surreal for him. The silicone slid smoothly over his legs, pulling snugly against his skin, transforming his usually broader build into James’s slimmer, leaner form. Tyler could feel the cool material warming up as it molded to him, turning him into an uncanny replica of James. When James tugged the mask over Tyler’s face, the sensation of the silicone wrapping around his head was exhilarating. The mask fit like a glove, sealing him into James’s identity.

Tyler moved in front of the mirror, marveling at the transformation. His own reflection was gone, replaced by James’s face, his tattoos, and his slim frame. The bodysuit moved fluidly with him, and he could feel every part of the suit stretching and flexing like real skin. It wasn’t just a costume—it felt *real*.

“Man, I think I could get used to this,” Tyler said, his voice now identical to James’s.

James laughed, admiring how weird and amazing it felt to see Tyler’s face reflected back at him. “Same. This is wild.”

Next came the clothes. James reached into Tyler’s closet, pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans. They were thick, stiff, and smelled faintly of leather and dirt. He slid them up his legs, the denim feeling tight and rugged, a stark contrast to the soft joggers he was used to. The jeans clung to him in a way that made him feel powerful, like the sturdy fabric was wrapping him in strength. He fastened the heavy belt with its oversized buckle, feeling the weight of it pressing against his stomach. Next came the plaid shirt. The material was rougher than anything he usually wore, but it felt good as he buttoned it up, the tight fit making him feel more grounded, more solid. The cowboy boots were the final touch. As he slid his feet into them, he felt a satisfying firmness, the boots hugging his feet in a way that made every step feel strong and deliberate.

Tyler, meanwhile, was having the opposite experience. He pulled on James’s oversized hoodie, and it felt like slipping into a cloud. The fabric was soft, almost silky, and it pooled around his body in an effortless way. The joggers came next, sliding over his legs like butter, loose and relaxed. He pulled on a pair of James’s sneakers—lightweight and cushioned, like he was walking on air. The sensation was completely different from the structured feel of his boots, but it was freeing in a way he hadn’t expected.

Dressed in each other’s clothes, they both admired themselves in the mirror, reveling in the strange thrill of looking and feeling like someone else. It was more than just a swap—it was like stepping into each other’s lives, fully embracing the new persona.

Now it was time to go out. They headed into town, each fully committed to their roles. Tyler, now dressed in James’s streetwear, strolled down the sidewalk with a casual swagger, loving the way the loose hoodie swayed with his movements. The soft material brushed against his skin, a constant reminder of the freedom and ease of James’s style. It made him feel relaxed, like he could blend into the city’s energy without trying.

James, on the other hand, was adjusting to the ruggedness of Tyler’s outfit. The jeans were stiff but in a comforting way, like they were made for hard work and adventure. Every step in the cowboy boots felt strong, as if they grounded him with each clomp on the pavement. The belt buckle pressed firmly against his waist, a constant weight that made him feel solid and secure. The plaid shirt hugged his shoulders in a way that gave him a sense of confidence he didn’t usually feel in his streetwear. As they walked, he felt powerful, like he was embodying the spirit of Tyler’s lifestyle.

They hit the streets, walking into coffee shops, browsing stores, and even stopping at a park. Everywhere they went, they marveled at how natural it felt to be each other. Tyler loved the lightness and ease of James’s clothes, the way the hoodie made him feel like he was gliding through the day without a care. James, meanwhile, relished the weight and structure of Tyler’s outfit, feeling every bit the part of a rugged cowboy.

As the day wore on, the bodysuits felt less like costumes and more like their real bodies. The silicone had warmed to their skin, moving naturally with every gesture. The masks clung comfortably, fitting so snugly that they forgot they were even wearing them. There was something liberating about the whole experience—the idea of fully stepping into someone else’s shoes, literally living as the other person for a day.

By the time they returned home that evening, they were laughing, still fully enjoying their swapped identities. They helped each other out of the suits, peeling the silicone away, but even as they returned to their own bodies, they both knew they’d never forget the thrill of being someone else.

“That was insane,” Tyler said, wiping sweat from his brow, but still smiling. “I think I could do that all week.”

James grinned, tossing the bodysuit aside. “Same. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

[nyancrimew]

You do a lot of really cool stuff and you do it As You. How do you overcome the fear of being Perceived and Known? Especially when the stuff you're raising awareness about is controversial or big? I have anxiety and while the "fuck it we ball" mindset has gotten me fairly far, I still find myself regretting putting myself out there or regressing back into a shut in.

i feel like what helped me kinda deal with getting pretty well known is probably not really applicable to many other people, because most of it really was that ive just been slowly more and more exposed to a bigger and bigger level of fame since i was like 16 or so. long before i was at the point i am now i was a really well known person in the android modding community and then the broader and broader tech community, i definitely didn't deal super well with some of my first minutes of fame and there's lots of stuff i regret (i def let it get to my head for a while and because i was also slowly burning out at the time i was quite an asshole to a lot of people). i don't think that was necessarily the best for me at the time, but i learned some lessons especially about community building and i did a lot of media work already at the time so ive been honing my communications skills for almost 10 years at this point.

i first started blowing up with hacktivism related stuff around 2019, and then everytime i did again it was bigger and bigger, making massive international headlines for the first time in 2021 (with the verkada story). i still fucked up a lot and got very stressed at that time, especially with my mental health being extremely abysmal and paranoia growing as state repression became inevitable.

after the indictment in 2021 i did more and more press work again (there are lots of portraits of me from that era) but still wasn't like A Celebrity except for those brief moments, which (as i took a break from hacktivism) gave me some more time to grow and learn. by the time the no fly list hack happened in 2023 i had been spending a few months already doing various smaller cyber security related work and working with many of my journalist friends in the industry. in a lot of ways the no fly list leak and the media reaction to it was just routine work for me already at that point, which i think allowed me to take in all the social fame way better as well. it still all felt quite surreal, but i was already mostly media trained, had quite a bit of experience with working with an audience already so it was just kind of a matter of adapting to my new environment.

this isn't to say i was like specifically working towards fame (especially this level) but ive always cared about community/audience building and media communication. i don't think im like "fake" or whatever, but you do have to consider that despite my laid back style im still someone with an autistic special interest in personal branding and media communications. i just don't wanna do that for corporations or for profit and instead use it for my activist and journalist self advocacy to give things a platform.

[deadpool15]

Lovers Will

The sun was shining bright out. Almost blinding myself as well as my lovely friend Agnes. It was early. Too early one could even state, the morning started the same as always. Get up, eat my usual breakfast consisting of oatmeal and toast with jelly of course. Then I was off for a morning run. I never enjoyed the run, or the aspect of having to be up so early. Though, I can say the routine brought a sense of relief and familiarity in my life. Something I don’t see a lot, I’m a child actor if you couldn’t tell. Now, don’t get me wrong, acting has always been my passion, I happened to start when I was very young. About 6-months old, like I said quite young. It was just a moment of a production needing a baby and I happened to fit the look. My mother at the time believed it to be cool, or at least something that would earn me bragging rights in Kindergarten. And, I mean it did, for a while after that my acting career was nonexistent. Simply, became a notion of the glory days if I do say so myself.

Later, it turned into something more. It was like an itch that I couldn’t resist. I was obsessed with the people on the screen and I had to become one of them. I threw myself into roles, small things a first but then, life turned around and decided to give me a special chance. I scored the role of Aqua in Avengers: Civil War. Turning myself into this badass alien kid which uncontrollable powers. It was amazing, shortly after that the roles just started coming to me. For the first time, people were looking at me. Genuinely, looking and past the smiles on the carpets and the clothes. They were talking about my skills, my acting. It felt surreal to say the least. Life couldn’t get any better after that. Though, it seems like most things life can give you things you truly want and then find a way to make sure you never get it again, until you’re ready.

While on a much needed vacation, I took sometime to visit the farmland. Montana is definitely not everyone’s favorite choice when it comes to a moment of peace. I needed realism, animals had always made me feel comfortable, more so than reporters have done. It was an unforgettable experience for me, the heat was intense. Spending time in bars wasn’t my goal but it happened. Until, one night a man came. A face I had seen before, yet I couldn’t put a finger on. A shy smile here and there lead to a night of insane laughter, happiness. In the mornings we lay in each other’s arms, talk about our favorite things, and at nights we dance until our feet hurt. Laughed until our stomachs couldn’t take it anymore, staring into tho blue eyes was like floating in the my beautiful ocean without a care in the world. He had that effect on people. We never crossed the line of physical intimacy, I’d just never been ready. Didn’t know what I was quite waiting for, because I was sure he was the one. It was scary, I’d never felt this before, never wanted to think about leaving him or going back to the real world. But things aren’t always meant to work out the way you want it. Before, I know it, I’d gotten a call back. Sinners, I realized all this time out here playing normal made me forget about my real life. I had to wake up soon and it hurt.

I had to leave without as much as a goodbye. It was just too difficult. I threw myself into my work. Using all my tools and emotions to just focus on my character, the pain that I was constantly experiencing went straight into her. Sooner, or later I heard about the marvel movie, I didn’t want to waste and second and auditioned right away. I figured if I wasn’t granted even just a moment to think about myself or anything because I was simply too busy. I wouldn’t have to constantly think about Lewis. I ignored everything, the calls, texts. I was terrified, these feelings were eating me up from the inside it was started to show. Michael managed to see this and took it upon himself to make me feel better at all times. Now to me he was the best friend anyone could ask for, but to the media he was a heartthrob who had just set his eyes on yours truly. I never made a comment about it, the glances or the touches. That was just how he was, I let them pain the narrative they wanted. My mind was too consumed with those baby blue eyes.

“Two movies released in the same year the hell you trynna do, give out girl.” He had stated after finding out about the marvel movie. I realized later why I thought Lewis had such a notable face. Nepo baby. He was the son of actor Bill Pullman. To make matters worse he was also in Thunderbolts. I avoided him like the plague. It was genuinely concerning to the other cast. They’d created this idea that I hated him, though I figure I didn’t quite help with me constantly acting repulsed by his mere presence. If we had scenes together which in my case Lucy wasn’t on my side. I’d do the work and hurry up to leave before he could start a conversation. On a side note when Flo invited all of us to her current apartment she was renting in LA for the time being to celebrate our hard work, it became clear I didn’t want to be around him so Flo tried and well let’s just say it didn’t work out.

“So, what’s it with you and Pullman, huh? A bad breakup or is he just secretly an asshole and is very good at acting.” She stared at me waiting for a response with a bear in her hand. Blonde hair slicked back, with a smile that I could say men would go to war for, if I’m being honest.

“Nothing, you’re just thinking too hard about it, he is just a dude.” A look of absolute disbelief had taken over her face. She didn’t buy it. Of course she didn’t, Flo had never exactly been the type to let things go. Especially, if she had a feeling about it.

“Oo, I get it. You two have shagged, right? He must’ve been had for you to ignore him like you do.” She laughed after her statement.

“W-what no we didn’t shag, that sounds wildly inappropriate Flo. Why would you think that?” Turning red would’ve been my initial reaction had my skin been pale.

“There isn’t anything wrong with it, I mean I’ve slept with a coworker it’s fine we have all been there. That’s the only reason you would avoid someone like you have, I mean you have gone to great lengths to not be around him. Or unless you’re like in love with him and you know scared to tell him.” The deadly silence was confirmation enough to her statement.

“Wait, omg you’re in love with him aren’t you? Jesus, shit how didn’t we pick up on that. I mean he loves you too that’s obvious, always around here looking like a kicked puppy every time he can’t speak to you or when you leave the room.”

That couldn’t be true, Lewis could never love me. We would never fit, he would grow bored of him, he would hate me. It couldn’t work. Never, he needs something else. “I don’t love him, what are you even talking about? You’re drunk that’s what it is, I don’t even like him, he’s boring and a loser. Definitely not my type.” After my extremely loud outburst, I failed to notice how silent the room had become. And how Flo had been trying to tell me that someone else had arrived to the party. Turning my head slowly I see Lewis, I couldn’t my eye contact even though he tried. I felt like an asshole.

“Thanks for sharing, Lia. You really know how to make a guy feel special. I’m gonna go guys, early start in the morning.” After those fatal words he left. Almost as if he wasn’t there to begin with. Or maybe that’s what I tried to convince myself as everyone looked at me. Pity. I could see if in their faces, my feelings were obvious to anyone with eyes. In my head it was just easier to tell myself Lewis couldn’t be with me, he was meant for someone more his pace, famous parents, long straight hair and white. I was my own form of destruction. I was my own enemy.

Could he ever actually be with me, love me? Questions that plagued my mind as I replayed the face of emotional turmoil on his face when he heard me utter those words. What was wrong with me. To make matters worse press tours were coming up, how could I face the world if I couldn’t even face the man I love?

[aventurineswife]

You’ve probably gotten plenty of asks starting with “Hear me out,” but like, hear me out. 😆

Reader and one (or more) of the Stellaron Hunters trying to give Sesame Cake a bath.

As you can imagine, it probably goes very poorly. 🤣

(Also, I think I saw a post while scrolling calling Sesame Cake one of those orange cats. At the very least, Sesame certainly looks like he has the brain cell of an orange! Absolutely nothing behind those eyes. 😂)

A Cake-Cat’s Revolution

Summary: You and Kafka engage in a light-hearted experiment with an eccentric creature known as Shader Cat, a hybrid of a cat and a cake. After attempting to bathe the creature, it escapes and causes a bit of chaos, eventually settling in Kafka's lap.

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Humor, Whimsy, Mischief, Absurdity, Lighthearted, Surreal, Creature Interaction, Unpredictability.

The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the plush sofa where Kafka lounged, looking every bit the epitome of cool detachment and calculated elegance. She leaned back against a set of cushions, arms crossed, the dark pince-nez perched playfully atop her head, her hair cascading into a messy ponytail. Meanwhile, you stood before her, holding the enigmatic purple creature known as Shader Cat — a whimsical combination of a cat and a cake, with its spider-web patterns and sunglasses.

"Why are we doing this, again?" Kafka inquired, a slight air of bemusement tinging her otherwise smooth voice.

You cleared your throat, attempting to keep the situation under control. "I thought it might be… fun?" you said, though the conviction in your voice sounded more like a question than a statement.

Kafka raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes scanning the bundle of confusion in your arms. "Fun," she echoed, and you noticed the slight curl of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I suppose it might be an interesting test of patience."

With a deep breath, you gently set Shader Cat down in the bathtub. The creature blinked lazily, large eyes staring blankly up at the overhead showerhead. Its tail flicked once, then settled back into an inert state.

"Alright," you said, adopting a tone of forced optimism, "Let’s start with some warm water. A bath always does wonders for the stress."

Kafka leaned back further, crossing one ankle over the other. "I’m intrigued," she said, "Let’s see how long it takes before it starts plotting a rebellion against us."

You turned on the tap, adjusting the temperature of the water. Meanwhile, Kafka watched with detached interest, sipping an invisible drink that existed only in the aura of her calm demeanor. You carefully stepped aside to grab some soap and shampoo, leaving Shader Cat to its own devices — or, so you thought.

It was just as you reached for the shampoo that you heard a soft rustle behind you. When you turned back, the air seemed to shift, and you found yourself facing a small, purple blur. Shader Cat had apparently decided to make a break for it, its striped tail whipping wildly as it hopped out of the tub in a clumsy rush.

"Oh, no," you said, half-amused and half-worried, as the creature skittered towards the living room, narrowly avoiding the coffee table.

Kafka watched in bemusement, the glassy look in her eyes shifting slightly. "I believe it’s… escaping," she observed.

"I noticed," you said, as Shader Cat continued its flight, careening into the couch, then under a nearby armchair.

You scrambled to catch it, but it was surprisingly fast for a cake-cat hybrid. "Come back, Shader Cat," you pleaded, but it seemed intent on proving just how little interest it had in the bath.

"Remarkable," Kafka said dryly, watching with a hint of amusement in her eyes. "It seems quite… defiant for a dessert-like creature."

"Yeah, it really does," you said, a slight tinge of frustration creeping into your voice. "I didn’t know they could move that fast!"

Suddenly, the creature paused for a moment, as if considering its next move. With a sudden leap, it pounced onto the couch — right onto Kafka’s lap.

Kafka’s face remained a mask of calm, but you could detect the slightest twitch of surprise in her eyes. The Shader Cat settled down, curling up in her lap, the sunglasses slightly askew, as if it was making a statement.

"Well," Kafka said, looking down at the cat, "It seems to have found its new resting place."

You could only nod, a mixture of amusement and disbelief settling in. "I… I think that’s probably the best it’s going to get," you said, still holding back a chuckle.

Kafka reached out to pet Shader Cat’s top, and the creature gave a small, nonchalant purr — or, rather, an effort to emit a sound that might be construed as a purr.

"It’s… oddly charming," Kafka said, half-rolling her eyes. "Almost like it has no idea of what’s happening in the universe — or, perhaps, it just doesn’t care."

You nodded, finally able to accept the situation. "Yeah," you said, letting out a soft laugh, "That’s probably a good way to put it."

Kafka leaned back into the couch, Shader Cat still comfortably nestled in her lap. "I must say," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, "You were right. This was certainly… interesting."

"I’ll take that as a win," you replied, relieved that the mishap was finally over.

As the two of you sat there, watching the peculiar creature bask in its unexpected triumph, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps, in the most Kafkaesque way, everything had turned out perfectly after all.

[aleespace-art]

I was forced to watch kids cartoon called Sheriff Labrador and I'm too embarrassed to admit that I kinda enjoyed it (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

Long chatter below (it is long. I'm not joking)

So umm basically it's a Babybus YouTube cartoon and it is exactly the quality you expect from youtube kids show

It's not secretly good or something the whole family can enjoy like "Bluey". It's just okay and yet here I am dumping bunch of art about it, idk how this works ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

My sibling made me watch it and while I'm at it let me tell you about some things I actually enjoyed about this cartoon

Umm first of all if I watched this cartoon as a kid I just know I would've had a huge crush on this fucking cartoon Labrador, he's just the type I really liked (still do) — responsible, perfect, good at everything adult in kids show (the other character close to this is Sportacus from "Lazytown" which I did watch as a child and did have a crush on this sports dude so that checks out)

Second — the themes. This cartoon teaches kids safety so I expected some basic stuff like "Don't play with fire" or "Don't cross the road on red". And I was actually surprised when the first ever episode I saw was about food delivery and how you should always read reviews before ordering something online. Idk maybe I haven't watched modern kids show in a while but I think it's cool that they talk about that kind of stuff (and ! there was also an episode about AI face swapping! wow modern problems ig)

Also an episode that stuck with me was about a pool. I saw the video preview and thought "yeah pools.. don't run.. don't drown.. basic stuff" and while later I discovered that they have an episode about safety at pools, this specific episode was about something else. It taught children to never go with strangers anywhere and never let them touch your private parts. The episode literally showed a bad character grabbing the child and taking him away, then the child was rescued when police came in with the words "Don't touch the child, that's illegal!"

I'm writing this not because I "criticize" the show for it, I actually think it's important to show what actually can happen to you if you go with strangers, it was just a surreal experience when I watched two cartoon police dogs arresting a cartoon representation of an actual pedophile and then hearing this said character cry and say "I'm sorry, I won't do this again!" Like...wow... I fucking hope you won't because you're going to cartoon jail forever 💀

I also was really surprised when I discovered the show actually has small fandom on tiktok let's goo??

TL;DR This is a show for little kids and I accidentally got hooked because of my sibling

[wisteriagoesvroom]

happy "breaching the top 10 f1 rpf pairings on ao3" day to landoscar nation 🎂 because it's all about.... two people that are so much the same yet so different. australia vs the uk. oscar's cool collected calm versus lando's ricocheting personality. twitch streams and side hustles and multiple endeavors vs singlemindedness of racing. purity of craft vs embracing everything life throws at you and trusting that it'll all work out. the rivalry that isn't (well it is, but not really). pushing each other to be better. making heart eyes in a taylor swift video, reaching out to your teammate in silverstone after surviving a media maelstrom and him being pleased and stepping closer because he's been given permission to. making fun of your resident weeb for reading the words "kit kat" but just in a japanese accent.

it's being so ridiculously competitive that you'll hide in a burning bin in the name of fun for a game with made up points and then squinting at your teammate ringed with the bright light of the sun and laughing at how stupid this all is. it's making fun of your teammate's music taste that you can hear through the thin walls of the drivers' rooms. trusting the journey. mimicking each other's body language. knowing it's for the marketing but winking at the camera together anyway, like we're all invited to be in on the joke. two parallel lives woven in two different garages with almost identical specs. being so comfortable you have this weird rapport that is kind of a cipher and unknowable to anyone outside of the immediate network or team, but it's so assured and quiet that for the first time the person who's been the person who was once the younger teammate steps up, acts older now, and becomes comfortable with the silence.

it's knowing your best friend was on their renault team and not saying anything about it in public but the motorsport world is so small and specific and the experience so surreal that surely some laylines are just strangely predestined. it's about growing up together. it's watching the brit upstart in a generation of two other brit upstarts chase his dream and give up everything to win and get velcroed to the seat because he's kind of small, just like you, but you dream bigger than anyone dares to dream and you identify with the other's self belief that says you, too, could stand on that top step one day. it's you following the little blue-suited guy racer on social media and liking sooo many of his posts over the years, and not even bothering to hide that fact when you've probably become that goalpost for someone else one day, too.

it's chapter 2, with 3 more to go. it's watching your teammate win his first sprint race and finding it in yourself to be happy for him even when you're sad that it wasn't you. it's publicly saying that the rookie is not a threat, he's a threat who makes you race better. it's making fun of newbie's first day at mclaren and finding him unknowable. and he arrives with all this hype and pressure so what can you do but focus on you and step up your game, but he's always in the background and the periphery, chasing and chasing with this hunger that is unbelievable and unfamiliar because it's always humming in a way that made you mistake stillness for idleness in the past. but now, you know: still waters run deep, so you swim harder, too. drop the dj-ing. become more disciplined. train more. do things that don't matter, less.

because the future is vast. the future is happening constantly if you're ready to meet it. and maybe destiny will be kind, and your names will be remembered. your name, inked on a trophy in the precious metal of kings, and dreamers. your name, inked in gold.

but today, you're 22. you're 24.

you're driving a car as fast as you can, and everything that's possible, feels like it could be possible, right now.