#anything else i could say on this will be very unkind and i try not to be a dick on main

[voxofthevoid]

I genuinely cannot believe there are people arguing Yuuji isn't the protagonist of JJK and that it's Megumi and/or Yuuta.

Develop a single fucking brain cell, I'm begging you.

[bountydroid]

Jealousy

Request: Can I please request a Cooper x Fem reader comfort angst romance where the sweet reader is infatuated with Cooper (she has a thing for older men)The sweet reader is always doing unnecessary favors for him, like secretly giving him discounts on rad away and supplies, taking care of dog meat, and getting him information on bounties. Until he brings along Lucy, misunderstanding the whole situation, the reader’s heart breaks thinking the worst and slowly stops trying and acting cold and distant, making Cooper notice that the only tolerable person he has ever known in this god forsaken world is ignoring him. (Feel free to add or change anything just pls feed into my delusions😭 I just want some hardcore romance with our cowboy) Also can u pls add that the reader also has a cute southern accent?

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader

Description: As a wandering trader, you've made a lot of strange friends. Among them, Ghouls, but there is one in particular that is your favorite.

Notes: I hope I did this justice for you anon!

The Wasteland was brutal, and even you knew it was a bad idea to trek it alone, but you had a job to do. However, as you found yourself in front of your old friend Roger's home you felt like the Wastelands weren't all that bad.

"My name.. is Roger." You heard him repeating between snarls.

You stopped in your tracks outside the door. "He's turning," You thought to yourself as you rummaged through your pack looking for any vials of Radaway. You were all out. Sighing, you put your hand on your holster before slowly making your way inside to check on your friend.

"Rog?" You ask as you round the corner to find him sitting in the dirt.

"Oh hey," he said relieved. "My savior. Do you have any vials"

"I don't have any, Rog." You replied sadly.

"Oh." He whispered. "You should probably get out of here then. It's not safe for little girls like you to be in the Wastelands alone." He said sadly, leaving out the bit you both knew, you weren't safe with HIM alone. 

Before you could respond, you heard quiet footsteps down the corridor. "Who else is here?" You thought to yourself as your hand went back to your holster. Peaking your head around the corner you find none other than Cooper Howard and... a vaultie? You did very little to hide the confusion on your face as you looked between the two.

"Hey, you." You said to Cooper. "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart." He responds, pushing the vaultie through the doorway and making his way to Roger.

"Hey Rog," Cooper greets him.

"Hey. Hey." Rogers laughs, relieved to see his friend. "Fancy seeing you here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?"

"Yep," Cooper responds as he knelt in front of his friend.

You all stand there in silence for a bit, listening to Roger snarl and whip his head around. 

"Oh, shit," Roger says between wails.

"How you feeling?" Cooper asks quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Oh.. you know," Roger replied. "It's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind. I see you got a smoothie of your own." He says as he looks over at the vaultie.

You also turn to look at the vaultie, a look of displeasure on your face. "A smoothie of your own." Repeating over and over in your head. You wanted to be his smoothie. You and Cooper never really started a relationship, but you thought you were heading in that direction. You gave him a generous discount on Radaway since you developed a little crush on him, and he would always spend more time than necessary with you whenever you crossed paths. He was always fussing after you and was always telling you how you were too reckless. In his eyes, everything was too dangerous for you. He knew how you felt about him, and you THOUGHT you knew how he felt about you, but this vaultie threw a wrench in everything. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't like me." You thought to yourself while eyeing her up. You were so lost in thought that you could barely hear Roger snarling next to you. 

"You're turning," Cooper says reluctantly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah maybe, maybe." Roger says on the verge of tears, "Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Y/n is all out."

Cooper's eyes met yours as you nodded your head sadly.

"Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." Roger pleaded.

"I'm sorry Roger I am all out," Cooper says, looking back toward his friend.

"That's okay. That's okay." Roger mumbles. "Though, um, you and y/n and your smooth-faced friend, you um... you might want to clear out before things get ugly."

You flinch as you hear Roger snarl again, each time he was getting louder and louder. You look down at your feet with tears in your eyes.

"I did okay. 28 years since I first started showing," Roger said looking between you and Cooper, before snarling again. "Oh, hell! Not as long as you though." He pointed proudly at Cooper, "You've outlasted us all. How long since you first started Wastelanding?"

"A long time," Cooper responds while shaking his head.

"That's a lot of vials," Roger said quietly.

"Well I've always been good at making money, Roger." Cooper exhales as he stands up. "Say, you remember how good food used to taste?"

"Yeah, BlamCo Mac and Cheese!" Roger says excitedly.

"Ice Cream and Apple Pie." Cooper countered.

Roger laughed, a real laugh. He was happy. "Apple Pie is not nearly as sweet as young Y/n's southern accent though." He says smiling up at you. "You know, my mom used to -"

Before you knew what happened, Roger's brains were all over the wall. You looked up at Cooper with tears in your eyes. You knew it had to be done. You knew it was mercy, but it still hurt. 

"Why did you do that?" The vaultie asked. "He was sick."

"He wasn't gonna get better." You responded dryly.

"You usually don't go all the way out here sweetheart, not on your own. What are you up to?" Cooper asks you as he picks up Roger's body and places it in a position where he easily access what he needs.

You don't respond. Between the jealousy brewing in your stomach at the vaultie next to you and the sadness about Roger, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say. 

"Stop. Stop Stop." The vaultie pleaded, "Please, I know it's hard out here but you don't, you don't have, you don't have to resort to... to..."

Before he could respond you quickly made your way out of the building for some fresh air. You could hear their voices inside, but you decided to drown them out by humming to yourself. You didn't need to see him take apart Roger, and you definitely couldn't stand the sound of her voice any longer. You knew you should get walking, you were low on supplies and they would be leaving the building soon. You didn't want to face them again, but it felt like there were bricks in your boots. As exhaustion hit you, you sat down in the sand and closed your eyes, losing track of time.

"Hey," You hear Cooper say as he puts his hand on your shoulder. "You good, sweetheart?"

'Fine." You mumbled out. "You and your smoothie should get going." The venom in your voice was loud and clear, but you didn't care.

"That's what got ya panties in a bunch?" Cooper laughed. 

You glared up at him in response. "Don't laugh at me, Cooper."

"I am taking her to SuperDuperMart. Not keepin’ her as a pet.” Cooper smiles as he offers you his hand. 

"Oh," You responded quietly, feeling stupid.

"What is SuperDuperMart?" You heard the vaultie ask, but the two of you completely ignored her.

"No one could ever replace you, sweetheart," Cooper says as he cups your face. 

You couldn't help the smile that graced your face at his words, and the blush that creeped up your neck.

He smiled when he noticed the way your eyes flickered towards his lips. 

"When I get my hands on some Radaway, I'll show you just how much you mean to me." You whispered.

"Lookin' forward to it." He whispered back.

The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn't even notice the look of pure disgust on the vaultie's face as she watched your interaction. Some people may never understand why you like Cooper so much, but honestly? You couldn't give a damn.

Tag list: @sitkafay

[gb-patch]

Sorry to send another ask amongst the sea I'm sure you're receiving, but I find myself more concerned about Rose being a sensitivity reader as I find more information. One of Rose's friends continues to insist that the conversation about Tamarack and male MCs was part of a larger discussion about biphobia in the fandom. However, they claim that Rose's position is "people erase Tam's bi/pansexuality by refusing to portray [her] as being attracted to anything other than men." This explanation of Rose's belief is, in-and-of-itself, biphobic. It claims that portraying Tamarack as attracted to men erases her queerness. This is textbook biphobia and bi-erasure that I as a bisexual encounter every day. It is NOT a good-faith defense of a queer character. It reduces us down to our partners and makes the claim that if we end up in a relationship that's "straight-passing," we're erasing our queerness. Especially as a bi sapphic myself, it reduces my identity strictly to the perceived-man I'm dating, and not my inner or previous experiences, or those of my partner. It's very uncomfortable that Rose, a non-bisexual, was discussing this like they're defending Tamarack's queerness when they're doing the opposite.

This is a doubly strange position when Our Life is a game about the acceptance of love in all its forms. The conversation could be different, MAYBE, if Our Life was a TV show or a book or a comic. But this is a game where people are meant to play as characters of their own design. I do not feel confident about Rose being a sensitivity reader for a game with bi/pansexual love interests if these are their beliefs about bi/pansexuality, particularly if they're unable to adapt their opinions to be relevant to different formats of media; this shows they're lacking in skill in the areas of media literacy and critical thinking.

I’ve been trying to make a post that presents the concerns people have about this, but your ask touches on the points I was going to, and I’d say it’s better to have it said by a player than me deciding what people are thinking. So, this is something that I want to make clear- that I see this and other asks/comments about it. What you’ve said is something a lot of people are unsure and upset about. I am sorry that you feel so out of place in this community now. And I am also sorry to players of any sexuality who use a male MC. That comment dismissed players and Tamarack’s identity.

It did come from a longer discussion about bi-phobia issues. The overall feelings were “if people did only want Tamarack to be interested in men, I really wouldn’t like that and wouldn’t it be a funny concept if Tamarack then left them for a woman?”. The comment itself didn’t encompass that idea at all. It does not give a good impression about where they’re coming from. It was unkind.

The viewpoint Rose is trying to have isn’t that “Tamarack can never express an interest in men” which would be wrong, it’s “I stand by the fact that Tamarack is someone who wouldn’t only be interested in men and no one else”. If it’s true that Rose likes Tamarack being interested in all genders and doesn’t want her bi-ness to be forgotten, I’d say that’s an acceptable view. If the point actually is that Tamarack should only be with women and if she’s not than Tamarack is no longer bi or she’s a bad character, then you're right- that isn't acceptable and that is going to get someone removed from the project. I do believe Rose agrees with what you’re saying and means it when they say they want to stop bi-erasure, not participate in it for real. But they had a very harsh way of talking about it.

I understand that people don’t know Rose and this situation has made them believe they do seriously hold that first view. But from working with them, there’s never been any feedback that shows an opinion of the sort.

Right now, I think that comment was being edgy and making a quick, very poorly-worded quip to people they’d been chatting with about that topic already. Rose has left the GB Patch discord servers, they used to be a mod, and may or may not ever be back in there. Rose won’t make blog posts responding to players going forward. They’re going to take a break from this and then try to give helpful feedback. We’re going to see if things can be okay from here.

And with this coming up, we’re all really aware that it’s something to consider about the game. I’m going to be as conscious as I can for any advice that seems to go against the character’s identities and I’m going to question my own knee-jerk choices for how I handle things. Other sensitivity readers will be able to give their viewpoints as well, so will the players. If the game’s content isn’t welcoming or is biased people will notice, and I’ll be here to accept what I’ve done. I don’t want that to be the result of this, of course. I hope the game will be thoughtful and considerate, but I can’t fire Rose at this point to try doing that.

No one has to keep following the game, though. I’m sympathetic to anyone who is too uncomfortable with all this to stay around.

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (PART TEN)

Masterlist

IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT. My health has just been crap, had two hospitalizations for my chronic illness that got a flare up, but I'm back to writing now, with a long chapter!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 6K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, angst, bestfriend!reader, fluff, tortuously slow smut scene, seduction, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), handjob (m!&f! receiving), oral (f!receiving), making out, dirty talk, sub!oscar, dom!oscar, switch!oscar

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

Oscar and Lando walked into Zak's office, the atmosphere immediately feeling thick with an unspoken tension. Zak stood by the window, looking out over the track before turning to face them with a serious expression.

"Take a seat, both of you," Zak said, his tone firm but not unkind. Oscar could feel his stomach twist with apprehension, Lando beside him shuffling awkwardly in his chair. Zak took a deep breath, folding his arms. "Alright, boys, let's cut straight to the chase. Oscar," he began, locking eyes with the young driver, "you need to watch out for your image. I understand things happen—you're young, life's fast, and sometimes emotions get the best of you. But kissing someone in public that you're not publicly dating, especially when that someone is a co-worker... it's not a smart move."

Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but Zak held up a hand to stop him. "The media's already catching on. Whispers are starting to circulate, and we need to get ahead of this before it turns into a full-blown story." Zak walked around to the front of his desk, leaning against it. "That's why we've discussed the subject within the team and have a proposition for you" he started, taking a breath "The idea is to put you in a publicity stunt—a fake relationship with a girl. Someone from outside the company, someone who can help steer the narrative away from... well, from the internal complications."

Oscar blinked, feeling a mix of surprise and disbelief. "A fake relationship?" he repeated, his voice almost a whisper. Zak nodded. "It's the best way to simmer down the talk. Give the media something else to focus on. You don't have to like it, Oscar, but it's probably what's best for now. We can't afford any distractions right now." Oscar nodded gently to his words, before Zak spoke up again "Or is there anything that we should maybe know about? Something more to the whole ordeal?"

The young Australian swallowed audibly, getting a little nervous "N-No, it's fine"

Lando noticed that Oscar didn't know what to say, visibly uncomfortable about it "He already got the lecture from Sophie" he said, taking a deep breath "I'm pretty sure he's aware that it was a very stupid mistake" Zak wordlessly agreed with Lando, so he continued on without more lecturing words. He looked at Oscar "So, what do you say?"

Lando shifted in his seat "Before he answers that, uh, why am I here, exactly?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Zak turned to him, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Ah, well. We kinda had a similar proposition for you as well. If you'd both agree, we would set yours up in about 2 weeks after Oscar's" Lando's eyes widened. "What? Why?" Zak chuckled softly. "Come on, Lando. You haven't exactly been subtle with your... escapades with Daniel." Zak's tone was light, but his expression remained serious. "You've been trying to be, but it's starting to look pretty obvious." Lando flushed, glancing sideways at Oscar, who raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. "I'm not against it," Zak continued, "Not at all. But you need to think about what you're doing. If the media catches wind of it... if anything goes wrong... it'll bite you in the ass, hard." Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So, you want me to fake-date someone too, just to throw them off?" Zak nodded. "Exactly. We need to control the narrative before the narrative controls us." Oscar exchanged a glance with Lando, both of them feeling the weight of Zak's words settle on their shoulders. "Understood," Oscar finally said, his voice steady. "I'll do it if it's necessary." Lando hesitated for a moment, then nodded as well. "Yeah... me too. Whatever it takes." Zak smiled, clapping his hands together. "Good. Glad we're all on the same page. Now, let's get to work."

"So, any details on how we're supposed to do this then? Like, for how long? And what do you expect from us regarding those girls?"

Zak looked at the two boys "Well, at least a month, I guess. I think that'll do to simmer down the suspicions "We'll find a girl for you that looks a little like Y/n, just so people think that the girl in the press picture was that girl" 

Oscar nodded, shifting awkwardly in his seat, not really knowing how to act about this.

"From there we want to start with her joining you in the paddock during a race. Maybe hold her hand, give her a kiss, pretending to be subtle, while you actually just want the cameras to catch on to it" Zak explained, leaning back in his chair "Just do couple-like stuff with her. Share a picture of you both on social media, or don't. That's up to you. After a month, you can just give a short explanation on your social media about how you were dating, but mutually decided to break up and are better off as friends" 

Lando shook his head "Do you have any idea how complicated this sounds?" he explained "I'm a formula 1 driver, not an actor. How do you expect me to fake being in love with someone?"

Zak sighed "I understand, Lando. You both don't have to do this if you really don't want to, but we all think it might be the best way to fight off the suspicions, in both of your cases" 

Oscar shifted his eyes from his lap back to the man in front of him "So you even want us to kiss the girls in question?" he asked

"I'm not forcing you into anything, but I think we both know that the media will have a hard time believing that you're dating someone if you refuse to kiss them" 

Later that day

Oscar was sprawled out belly down on his bed in his hotel room, replaying the conversation in his head over and over again. Lando was lying on the couch opposite Oscar’s bed, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Fucking hell, mate,” Oscar muffled into his pillow, his voice heavy with frustration. “How am I even supposed to tell her this?”

Lando chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “I guess using words would work,” he sassed, earning a glare from the Australian driver.

Oscar rolled his eyes before grabbing the nearest pillow and launching it across the room. Lando puffed out an exaggerated “Ooff,” then tossed the pillow back. “Hey! I was just trying to diffuse the tension.”

Sitting up against the headboard, Oscar sighed deeply. “I know, but I honestly don’t know how to break it to her.” His voice softened as he admitted, “I know it’s weird talking about this since she’s your sister and all, but I honestly don’t want to hurt her.”

Lando offered a sympathetic smile, sensing the weight behind Oscar’s words. “It’s okay, I’m fine with talking about it. I know you mean well,” Lando reassured him.

Oscar’s shoulders slumped as he pulled his knees toward his chest. “It’s just… I felt like things were finally going in the right direction. And now this shit happens. You know how much that sucks? I thought I finally had a chance to win over the girl of my dreams.” His voice trembled slightly, the frustration clear in his tone. “And now I have to pretend I’m in love with some random girl and kiss her in public… with her right there.”

Lando noticed the glint of emotion in Oscar’s eyes, his usually calm and collected friend on the verge of tears. “I honestly don’t know what to say. It just sucks so much,” Lando admitted, sounding defeated himself. “Maybe you can just tell Zak you don’t want to do it if it makes you feel this bad.”

“I’m not doing this for me,” Oscar mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m doing this for her. I don’t want her career to be ruined because of me.”

Lando sat up, his tone more serious now. “It’s not your fault, Osc. It takes two to tango.”

Tears started to fall down Oscar’s cheeks as he shook his head. “It is my fault. I should’ve suppressed my feelings. I shouldn’t have bothered her with them. She’s my best friend, your sister, and my damn trainer.”

“Look, Osc,” Lando said gently, "Osc, your her best friend as well, you're her client, you're her brothers teammate. She’s just as responsible as you are. It’s not all on you.”

Oscar’s voice cracked. “I just don’t want people to think less of her. I don’t want the press to call her a gold digger or say she’s using me. If fake dating some random model stops all this crap, I’ll do it.” He rambled on, not realizing how much he was pouring out his heart. “You know, if the drama would be just about me, the decision would be easy. I wouldn’t even consider the PR stunt, I couldn’t care less about my career when it cones to her. Hell, I’d even quit racing for her. She's all I think about. When I close my eyes, all I see is her. Lando, I am so in love with her it hurts”

Lando’s eyes widened, the weight of Oscar’s confession hitting him hard. After a brief pause, he spoke softly. “Mate, you’re not going to lose her over this. I know she’s not going to think less of you or let this ruin things between you. I mean, it’s obvious you care about her so much, and even if you’re not officially dating… it’s there. Anyone can see that. You should go for it.”

Oscar shook his head, his expression filled with uncertainty. “But I don’t want to risk her losing her job because of this.”

Lando leaned forward, his tone thoughtful. “But what if people don’t react the way we think? What if… instead of weird reactions, people actually love seeing you two together? A lot of drivers get shipped with each other, and the media loves my sister. Why wouldn’t they love you two together? Maybe we’re afraid of reactions that won’t even be there.”

Oscar hesitated, his brow furrowing. “But… we’re not even dating, Lando. I don’t even know what we are. We don’t have a label or anything. It’s all so uncertain.”

Lando grinned slightly. “Mate, the only reason you two aren’t official is because of your jobs and what other people might think. But even a blind person could see how in love you both are. You’re holding back for the wrong reasons. Don’t let that stop you.”

Oscar looked down, his emotions swirling inside him. “I just… I don’t want to make things worse for her.”

“Talk to her,” Lando urged. “She’ll understand. She’s smart, and she knows this whole fake relationship is just business. Nothing between you and that random girl means anything. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Oscar remained quiet for a moment, processing everything. “I’ll talk to her,” he muttered, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

“And don’t give up on her,” Lando added with a soft smile. “You care about her more than anyone else. My sister deserves someone who loves her as much as you do, and I know you’ll treat her well. Don’t let this fake PR crap get in the way of your own happiness.”

Oscar nodded, still uncertain but feeling the weight of Lando’s words sink in.

“If you need me to talk to her too, I will,” Lando offered. “A brother-sister chat might help clear her mind. Just keep communicating with her, Osc. You’ll get through this.”

The two drivers continued discussing the situation, with Oscar ultimately deciding that, for her sake, he didn’t want to risk going public yet. But he knew Lando was right—she would understand. It wasn’t ideal, and it sucked for both of them, but they had to keep talking, keep trusting each other.

“Yeah, it sucks,” Lando sighed, “but you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Oscar smiled "Enough about me now, what about you and Danny, are you okay?" Oscar then asked.

Lando nodded "It sucks of course, but I think it's for the best, you know. Danny will understand. He knows how this world works" he explained, playing with the string of his hoodie as he spoke "Besides, Danny is well aware of my feelings for him. Things have been going steady between us for a while now, it's just that we both aren't really in the mood to drop the 'We are both bisexual and dating our former teammate' bomb, yet. So if this is the solution for us to continue under the radar a bit more, then I'm sure he's fine with it" 

"That's good to hear" Oscar replied, a soft smile sporting his face. 

"So, you're not grossed out about me dating a dude?" Lando asks, a little nervous, even though deep down he knew the answer. 

Oscar shook his head immediately "Why would I be? Wouldn't make a difference if it were a boy or a girl, now would it? As long as the person makes you happy, I'm fine with anything" he says with a smile

"Besides, it was quite obvious you were into both men and women from the start. I think everyone within McLarens has the suspicion" Oscar chuckles.

A few hours later

Oscar had invited you to his hotel room for a cozy movie night before the chaos of race weekend officially began. That’s how you found yourself now, nestled comfortably in his arms on the soft bed, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The movie was playing, but neither of you was really paying attention. Instead, your focus had shifted to the weightier topic Oscar had brought up—one that hung in the air between you both.

He’d already explained the situation. Told you what Zak had proposed. He’d kept the details brief, just covering the essentials. There was going to be a PR relationship—a fake one—with another girl. Zak thought it was best for both your images, and Oscar had agreed, reluctantly, explaining that there didn’t seem to be much of a choice in the matter. He looked torn as he spoke, clearly not on board with the idea but unsure of any other way forward.

You weren’t happy with it either, though deep down, you’d expected something like this. The media had been buzzing for days, and the rumors surrounding you both were becoming harder to manage. Agreeing to the plan felt like the safest route for now, despite the unease that settled in your chest.

Oscar sighed softly, his breath warm against your hair. “But… what about us, though?” he asked, his voice laced with hesitation.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He averted his gaze for a moment, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I mean, I’d understand if you didn’t want to… try things with me anymore. If you have to watch me kiss someone else, even if it’s fake. I can imagine you wanting to call it quits.”

You could feel the vulnerability in his words, his uncertainty over how you felt. Slowly, you removed yourself from his embrace and shifted your position, climbing onto his lap so you could face him directly. His wide eyes followed your every movement as you settled on top of him.

"It’s not like you're kissing her by choice,” you said softly, your hand lifting to cup his jaw. Your thumb traced the sharp line of his jaw, and you leaned in closer, lowering your voice to a teasing whisper. “I'm assuming she's not the one making you feel like this, now is she?”

Without waiting for an answer, you leaned down, your lips brushing against the side of his neck in a slow, deliberate kiss. The moment your lips touched his skin, Oscar let out a soft, guttural groan, the sound almost desperate as his hands instinctively gripped your waist. Encouraged by his reaction, you trailed your lips higher, finding the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. You pressed a soft kiss there before sucking gently, enough to elicit another quiet sound from him, a mix of pleasure and restraint.

“You can fake date her all you want,” you murmured, your lips brushing his skin as you spoke. “But as long as I’m the one making you moan at night, none of it matters.” You continued to kiss along the curve of his neck, your lips slow and purposeful, savoring every inch of his skin.

Oscar’s breathing grew heavier, and you felt the tension in his body as his hands tightened their grip on your hips. His heart was pounding beneath your palm as you slid your hand over his chest, feeling the erratic rhythm beneath his shirt. You let your fingers trail down, tracing the defined lines of his torso through the fabric, your touch feather-light and teasing. It riled you up to see how sensitive Oscar is to your touch. How you can make him tremble with something as little as a kiss and a few words. You absolutely loved it.

“I know it’s me who makes you feel like this,” you whispered seductively, your voice barely above a breath as your lips moved closer to his ear again. “I’m the one who gets you like this, aren’t I?”

Oscar whimpered softly in response, his breath catching as your hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, your fingers grazing the bare skin of his abdomen. He was trembling now, his body betraying how deeply your touch affected him.

“I want to hear you say it,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Tell me, Oscar. Tell me how I make you feel.”

His response was almost immediate, though his voice was strained, barely able to form words through the haze of desire. “You… you make me feel… so good,” he groaned, his voice laced with need. “No one else—no one makes me feel like you do.”

You smiled at his confession, your lips curving as you kissed his jawline, slowly making your way back to his lips. Your fingers slid up his chest, your nails lightly grazing his skin, drawing more breathy moans from him as you continued your slow, torturous seduction.

When your lips finally met his, you kissed him slowly, deeply, your tongue teasing his as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently at the strands. The combination of your touch and your kiss had him whimpering beneath you, his hands pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to have any distance between you.

“You might have to kiss someone else in public,” you whispered against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak, your eyes dark with desire. “But I know I’m the one who gets you like this. I’m the one who makes you feel good.”

Oscar groaned again, the sound desperate as his hands moved to your thighs, squeezing softly. His breaths were ragged, his body trembling beneath you, the tension between you both thick enough to cut through. He was completely at your mercy, lost in the slow burn of your teasing.

Your lips trailed back to his neck, and you could feel his pulse racing under your tongue as you kissed along the column of his throat, sucking gently on the skin as you moved. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath you, each gasp and moan a testament to how much he was losing control under your touch.

“Tell me what you're thinking, baby” you whispered, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath his jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Oscar's breath hitched, his voice barely more than a strained groan. “I want you... to touch me,” he whimpered, his desperation raw. “I need you. Please.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips again, your hand sliding down his chest, savoring the way his body shuddered beneath your touch. You could feel the heat between you building, the anticipation thick in the air as you took your time, savoring every moment of his response.

He was yours—every groan, every shiver, every whispered confession. And you weren’t done with him yet. You loved the dynamic between Oscar and you. How one day Oscar could be the dominant one, but could switch to being completely at your mercy the other moment.

Your lips curved into a smile, savoring the power of his plea as you moved your hand slowly across his chest, teasing him further. "You've got to be more specific, Osc" Your lips pressed softly against the spot just below his jaw. “Tell me where you want me to touch you"

Oscar hesitated, his hands instinctively moving to guide yours lower, but you pulled away just enough to stop him. “Nuh-uh,” you tsked softly, a playful smirk on your lips. “I need you to tell me. Use your words.”

His breath hitched, and he swallowed hard, his hand dropping back onto the bed in defeat. He tried to stifle a whimper, but you could feel the need pulsing through him. Your fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down his torso, ghosting over the fabric of his shirt and sending sparks of sensation through his body. You paused just above his waistband, feeling the tension radiating from him, but deliberately avoided the spot you knew he was craving.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” you asked, letting your fingers trail along his hip before moving back up to his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, a soft groan escaping his lips.

You chuckled softly, your lips trailing to his ear as you whispered, “Or here?” Your hand moved to his chest, fingertips tracing circles around his nipples. Oscar bit his lip, his breath catching in his throat as his hips shifted beneath you, desperate for more. But you stayed teasing, your hand wandering, purposefully avoiding where he needed you the most.

"Tell me," you murmured again, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Oscar whimpered, his voice strained and breathless. “I want… I want you to touch me,” he stammered, the words faltering as if he couldn't quite bring himself to say them fully. There was a part of him still clinging to the last shred of control, though deep down, he knew how much he craved letting go. The truth was, he loved this—loved you taking charge, more than he ever dared to admit. His body betrayed him, responding so eagerly to your dominance.

His eyes fluttered shut, his head falling back against the pillows as you continued your slow, deliberate torment. Every brush of your lips, every whisper of your touch, sent a fresh wave of electricity through him. He gripped the sheets beneath him, knuckles white, his body trembling under the weight of his need. The intensity of his desire threatened to overwhelm him, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for more, savoring the sweet torture of your control.

You smiled against his skin, your lips brushing his jawline as you murmured, “Touch you where, Osc? Tell me exactly where you need me.”

He groaned in frustration, his body writhing beneath yours, aching for release. “Touch me… there. Please,” he whispered, his voice so raw it sent a surge of heat through you. “I need to feel your hands around my dick.”

A low hum of satisfaction left your throat as you finally let your fingers slip lower, teasing the waistband of his joggers, the heat radiating from his body pulling you in closer. “Good boy,” you purred softly into his ear, your breath warm against his skin as your lips trailed along the curve of his neck, planting a lingering kiss that sent shivers down his spine.

Oscar’s reaction was immediate—his whole body tensed beneath you, hips instinctively jerking upward, desperate for more contact. The sound of your praise hung in the air between you, its effect unmistakable. He let out a soft, strangled groan, the sound thick with need, as if those two simple words had unlocked something deep inside him. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parted in a breathless moan, and his chest rose and fell in uneven, rapid breaths.

You could feel him twitch beneath your touch, the heat and anticipation rolling off him in waves. The mere sound of your voice calling him a 'good boy' had clearly struck a chord, one he was too overwhelmed to put into words but too aroused to hide. A thin bead of precome slicked against your fingers as you brushed over him, his body betraying just how much he enjoyed the praise—more than he would ever dare to admit aloud.

His hands fumbled for something to hold onto, gripping the sheets beneath him as he squirmed under your touch. “Fuck…” he whimpered, his voice breaking. His reaction was so visceral, so raw, that you could feel how much control he was fighting to keep, how much he craved your touch

Your hand stayed teasingly light, fingers barely grazing him as you moved lower, your touch enough to make him throb beneath you, every sensation amplified by the tension in his body. You smiled against his neck, savoring how easily you could make him come undone with nothing but your touch and your words.

“You like that, don’t you?” you whispered, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his ear. His answer came in the form of another groan, his hips bucking once again, leaking more in response to your gentle touch, his desperation growing with every passing second.

The flush on his skin deepened, the way his body reacted betraying the depth of his desire. You could feel the tremble in his thighs, the way his breathing hitched each time your fingers brushed over him, how his whole body seemed to lean into every touch, silently begging for more.

“I bet you love hearing that,” you murmured, fingers curling just enough to give him a hint of pressure, your words laced with amusement and seduction. “Admit it, Oscar. You like being called a good boy, don’t you?”

He let out a shaky breath, his body jolting at the words, unable to hold back any longer. “Y-yeah,” he breathed, his voice strained and trembling, so close to unraveling completely under the weight of his need. He pressed his head back into the pillows, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding through him, his body a live wire of sensitivity.

“Good boy,” you repeated, the words rolling off your tongue like honey as your hand moved just a little firmer, eliciting a strangled moan from Oscar that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. The way he responded to you was intoxicating, his body fully under your control as he writhed beneath you, craving every touch, every whisper, every teasing word.

He couldn’t help it—he twitched again in your hand, the dampness of his arousal slick against your fingers as he leaked more precome, his desperation making it clear just how much he wanted to give in. The pleasure was almost too much for him to handle, his body caught in that sweet spot between torture and ecstasy.

And you weren’t done with him yet.

Your lips found his neck again, trailing soft kisses along his skin, whispering between each one, “See? No random girl could ever make you feel like this… right, Osc?”

He whimpered in response, his breathing ragged as he squirmed beneath you. “No… only you,” he groaned, his hands gripping your waist as if he needed something to anchor him in the storm of sensation you were unleashing on him.

You smiled, savoring his surrender, your fingers stroking him slowly, deliberately, drawing out every sound he made. His body trembled beneath you, each moan and whimper fueling your teasing touches as you kissed along his jawline, down to his collarbone, then back up to his ear.

“Are you thinking about that girl you have to fake date now? Thinking about if she's pretty, if she could make you feel like this too?” you teased softly, your voice dripping with seduction as your hand tightened just slightly around him. 

Oscar shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “No… never. Just you.”

You kissed him deeply then, your tongue slipping past his lips, slow and sensual, tasting the desperation in his breath. His hands gripped you tighter, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t get enough. His heart was racing, the pulse of his need pounding through him as your hand continued its slow, torturous rhythm, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re mine, Osc,” you whispered against his lips, your hand quickening its pace ever so slightly. “No matter who you have to pretend with, it’s me who makes you feel this good, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he whimpered, his voice barely coherent as he bucked against your hand, his body trembling with anticipation. “Only you… please…”

You grinned, knowing how close he was, and kissed him once more, slowly, deeply, savoring every moment of his unraveling. "That’s right. I’m the one that makes you feel like this. No one else.”

Oscar’s moans grew louder, his body trembling beneath your touch as you finally gave him what he’d been begging for, his breaths coming in short gasps as he lost himself completely in you. Every groan, every whimper, every desperate plea filled the air between you, his pleasure so intense it left him barely able to form words.

As you kissed along his neck again, you took his hands in yours and moved them from your back down to cup your ass, squeezing lightly.

His response was nothing but a breathless whimper as he gripped you tighter, his body arching into yours, completely at your mercy.

The teasing, the slow build-up, and your seductive whispers had him lost, spiraling into ecstasy. You could feel him slipping away, utterly consumed by the intensity of what you were doing to him, and you smiled against his skin, knowing that only you could bring him to this point.

Oscar’s moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained, his entire body shaking as he gave in, letting you take him to the edge of oblivion. And as he finally reached that peak, his voice cracked, your name falling from his lips in a broken, breathless moan.

You smiled, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered one last time, “That’s right, Oscar. You're mine"

It took Oscar a moment to slip back into reality before he sat up on the bed, his chest still heaving from the high they had just shared. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the bed in one swift, effortless motion, holding you close to him. You gasped, half-laughing in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you toward the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though a playful smile tugged at your lips.

He kicked open the door to the ensuite bathroom and placed you gently down on the edge of the sink, the cool countertop a stark contrast to the warmth radiating between the two of you. Oscar walked over to the shower, turning the water on with a steady hand, before striding back to you, his presence suddenly more commanding, more assertive.

Standing between your legs, his body pressed firmly against yours, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above your ear. “Showing you that you’re mine too,” he whispered, his voice low, seductive, full of intention “You belong to me.”

Before you could respond, Oscar’s lips were on your neck, his kisses slow and deliberate, each one sending shivers through your body. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging it gently as he tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to his assault. He kissed his way down the column of your throat, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

“I’m not letting you wait for the water to warm up,” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing, his fingers already tracing the hem of your dress, slipping underneath to brush against your skin. He gripped the fabric, pulling it up with one swift motion before tossing it carelessly to the floor, his eyes devouring you, the hunger in them unmistakable.

His hand slid between your legs, fingers teasing, barely grazing you at first, drawing out the anticipation. He could feel how sensitive you were, how ready. You let out a soft moan as he pressed his lips against your jaw, trailing kisses down to the hollow of your throat. His fingers found their way inside you, moving slowly, torturously, making you squirm beneath him.

“You’re mine,” he growled softly, his breath hot against your skin. “No one else can touch you like this. Only me.” His fingers curled inside you just right, hitting all the right spots, and you let out a breathless whimper in response, your body arching into him. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice commanding but still gentle. “Tell me you’re mine.”

His smirk grew as you struggled to hold back, his fingers now moving with more purpose, each touch a mix of pleasure and dominance. 

"I-I'm yours" you moaned out, unable to form a coherent sentence "F-Fuck, this feels so good"

He smirked, pleased with your reaction, his thumb brushing over you in just the right way, coaxing even more desperate sounds from your lips. "That's it... let me hear you," he murmured, his voice commanding but still gentle, coaxing out every bit of pleasure as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm.

When he finally couldn’t take it any longer, he scooped you up in his arms again, carrying you toward the shower. The water had begun to steam up the glass as he pressed your back against the cool tiles, the heat from the shower blending with the heat from his body. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss deep, passionate, filled with need. The water poured over both of you, soaking your skin as Oscar's hands roamed your body, his fingers tangling in your hair, his palms gripping your hips, your thighs, every inch of you.

Without breaking the kiss, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding down your sides as the water cascaded down your bodies. He kissed your inner thighs, his lips agonizingly slow as they made their way higher, teasing you just as you had done to him before. You could feel the smirk on his lips as he drew closer, his breath hot against your skin, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place.

“You’re my girl,” he said softly, his voice laced with dominance as he looked up at you from his knees. “No one else can have you. Not now, not ever.” Then, without warning, his tongue flicked out, teasing you with the lightest touch. You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching for his hair, gripping tightly as his tongue worked slow, deliberate circles, driving you mad with desire.

His hands roamed your body as he continued his slow torment, one gripping your ass, the other sliding up your back, pulling you closer to him. He was everywhere at once, his touch all-consuming, his tongue alternating between soft strokes and firmer pressure, teasing you, driving you to the edge.

Oscar’s fingers joined his tongue, sliding into you in perfect sync with the rhythm he set, the slow, torturous pace making you tremble. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers was designed to push you higher, the tension in your body building with each passing second.

“Tell me how I make you feel,” he whispered between strokes, his breath hot against you, and when you couldn’t answer, too lost in the pleasure, he smirked. “That’s what I thought.” His tongue circled again, his fingers curling just right, and your body responded, arching into him, your grip on his hair tightening as the pleasure became almost unbearable.

He continued to work you over, switching between his tongue and fingers, his touches slow, purposeful, drawing out every sound, every moan. His hands never stopped exploring, roaming your body, massaging your thighs, your hips, your breasts, every inch of you as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally reached your peak, it was as if the world around you disappeared. You shattered against him, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you, and Oscar didn’t stop, carrying you through it, his tongue and fingers still working you until the very last tremor left your body.

“That's it, baby” he whispered softly, his voice a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness as he kissed his way back up your body, pulling you close as the water continued to soak you both.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

previous | next

Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff @silentreader128 @edixttor

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello!

Could I request for some reverse comfort for Toby, Tim and Masky please? Maybe they’re insecure or feeling emotional and the reader is very sweet and empathetic towards them, so they try their hardest to make them feel better even if they don’t open up?

Thank you!

- 🐨

Ticci Toby, Masky, and Tim getting comfort from the reader

Obligatory Tim isn't a crp character (and neither is masky but I've Frankensteined the og and crp versions for this blog LMAO), but hes included here WOO yeah baby

Characters: Tim, Masky, Ticci Toby

Notes: reader is GN, written on mobile so expect more typos than usual

CWs: death

TICCI TOBY

Mixed bag of issues with this one, a lot his feelings are internalized thanks to his old home life as well as the bullying we went through- not talking about his feelings is basically natural to him because asides his sister, no one really cared

Takes a long time to let himself he vulnerable like that around you, but he does appreciate that you're so open and kind.. he almost feels...

Bad.. he tends to bounce between thinking highly of himself and thinking hes scum aaaand more often than not he thinks he sucks when hes in a not good mood

You let him get his feelings out, even if it's not through speaking; you let him get heated when he talks about something that's stuck with him, you go out with him to kick rocks, stuff like that to just let him

Let go

And you don't judge him, you let him feel and express

MASKY

Not all that emotive so it's very hard to gauge when hes in a sour mood or generally not happy or neutral

Hes like a cat when he seeks you out, kind of just leans into you physically and remains there

Doesnt let you touch him though

Will gently push you away if you try to hug him or anything like that, likes being in control when hes like this so he'll move on with it if he wants some physical affection

You'll never find out what's got him feeling unwell since he doesnt talk, both literally and "he doesnt talk about himself"

This is the most you'll get, though it's not terrible

TIM

Theres no denying that this dude has been put through the ringer, and theres a lot of stuff that needs to be unpacked

A lot of which hes not going to tell you, regardless of if you know about what happened to him or not

On the chance you dont or that he simply doesnt want to jinx things and make it all start again, he may reframe his experiences into something else or just point blank say people had died

Asides from the jinxing thing mentioned hes just not that interested in showing his feelings and hardships in general

He does appreciate your support, though

Sometimes sitting with you can help alleviate some of the noise going on in his mind; doesnt matter if you're doing something together or independently

You just have a calming energy

A lot of the time when his mind is being unkind, you both sit on the porch and just exist

Morning, afternoon, nighttime.. anything is free game

Very open when telling you when he needs something from you, whether it be time with you or alone or to not pry

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 1k love!!! Im so happy for you, you deserve all the love 🩶

Could i request a ravenclaw!reader who's a little volatile (i suppose like dark acadameia) that the slytherins have kind of adopted (because shes volatile not violent and they think its cute). But shes been in a relationship with Remus on the down low and they realise at a halloween party?

I imagine Remus as an angel while reader is a devil and the slytherins were already concerned by the costume but then they notice you and Remus and just loose their marbles. Barty's having a meltdown, evans im shock and Sirius is cackling because Regulus is trying to stand tall but Remus is so much bigger than him its just impossible.

Anyway, tysm for your wonderful self and feel free to twist this however fits you, love!!

Hi lovely, thank you so much! I'm assuming you meant this to be for the Fade Into You part of the celebration since it's a specific reader, and also I don't know the Slytherin boys very well so I feel like my characterization could be wayyyyy off but I hope this is alright!

join the party

Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!reader ♡ 930 words

You’re dancing with your friends when your drink is plucked suddenly from your hand. 

“Hey!” You spin around to find the thief, and then your tone changes completely. “Hey, Remus, you came!” You crash into him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Remus hugs you back the best he’s able, a drink in each hand. “And you wore your costume!” You grin as you pull away, resting a hand on either side of his face to admire how soft and sweet he looks in seraphim white. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Said cheeks grow warm under your hands. “That’s Sirius’ touch.” 

“You look very pretty.” He grins, and you stand on tiptoe to whisper sweetly in his ear, “Now give me back my drink, pretty boy.” 

Remus’ smile doesn’t waver, but he becomes a tad more serious about the eyes. “How many have you had?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drag, Lupin,” Barty pipes up, coming up behind you to sling an arm around your shoulder. “She’s fine, and not that it’s any business of yours, but we won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“She just seems like maybe she’s had enough,” Remus replies, and his tone is far from unkind, but there’s an edge of admonishment to it that has Barty bristling noticeably. He turns back to you, voice softening. “What do you say, lovely, want to go sit down for a little while?”

You look at Barty, who raises an eyebrow at you. Behind him, Reggie stands with his arms crossed, looking bored with the whole thing.  

“I won’t be gone long,” you say in apology, and Barty scoffs disgustedly, but releases you. 

“Fine, go play with your costume buddy,” he says. “We’ll be here when you get sick of him.” 

You take Remus’ hand in one of yours, flipping Barty off with the other. 

“Are we really going to sit down?” you whisper hopefully, and Remus chuckles. 

“Yeah, we are. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly walking in a straight line right now.” 

You grin, tugging at his hand playfully. “That’s just ‘cause I’m a rebel. The boys would never let me hang out with them if I walked the straight and narrow.” 

“That so?” Remus hums, pulling you down onto a couch beside him. “Have I mentioned how nice you look yet? You really do.” 

“I’m not supposed to look nice.” You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to him. “I’m a devil, Rem. I’m supposed to look hot and salacious.” 

Remus graces you with a smile, brushing a piece of hair from in front of your eye. “You do look hot, but you look nice too. I don’t think you can help that one, dovey.” 

“Yeah?” You bat your eyelashes, moving into his lap. Remus’ eyebrow quirks up slightly, cheeks glittering with the movement, but he doesn’t stop you. “Is it just that I radiate sweetness?” You kiss his jaw. “And patience?” Remus’ cheek is faintly pink where you press your lips. “Innocence, certainly,” you tease, breath hot on his ear, “but what else?” 

“Dove,” he whispers, “I think your friends are watching.” 

“Hm?” You look up, and sure enough, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are standing just a few feet away by the punch bowl, expressions ranging from bewilderment to abject horror. “Oh. Oops.” 

“I—I can’t,” Barty sputters. “I can’t be seeing this. Are you plastered? Get off him.” 

You don’t, but Remus does it for you, standing and setting you on your feet as Regulus stalks forward. He stops with his arms crossed in front of the two of you. 

“Is this who you’ve been ditching us for lately?” he asks you. 

You start to reply, but Barty talks over you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, there’s no way. There’s no way.” 

Others have started migrating toward you to watch the show, among them Remus’ friends. Normally you wouldn't care, but Remus is beginning to squirm, so you try to calm things down for his benefit. 

“You guys are overreacting,” you say, as peaceably as you’re capable of. “As if it really matters what house my boyfriend is in.” 

“Boyfriend?” Barty despairs, and you should have known better than to think anything could quell his dramatics once they’ve begun. “God, as if the costumes weren’t bad enough, you have to throw lovey-dovey terms like boyfriend around.” 

A peal of laughter sounds from somewhere nearby, and you look around to find Sirius, eyes already wet with mirth as he watches his younger brother. “Reggie,” he manages between giggles, “are you trying to look taller than him?”

Reg raises an unimpressed brow, and anyone who didn’t know him well might not notice the flicker of embarrassment in his gaze. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, but his posture is better than you’ve ever seen it, his neck elongated in an attempt to look Remus in the eyes without having to tilt his head. 

“Reg.” Sirius swipes under his eyes. “You may be taller than me, but you’re never gonna get all the way up there.” 

“Alright,” you say decisively, taking Remus’ hand and proceeding to push past Regulus’ stiff form. You shoot Evan a half-apologetic look as you go by, still standing frozen like he’s been stupefied, and Barty follows your movement with eyes blown wide. “Just for that, we’re going back to you guys’ dorm, Black. And we’re going to fuck, loudly, all night.” You shoot your most winning smile in his direction, even as Remus’ face takes on a fiery hue beneath the white glitter. “I wouldn’t recommend coming home. Goodnight!”

[bloodycyrano]

K, so I'm in a depressive episode, and I'm craving chocolate. Nobody probably cares, but here's what type of chocolate members of Team Tadpole prefer and how I think they'd react to receiving it as a gift! This is purely headcannons, and I haven't been able to play the game in a few months, so if I get something wrong, don't be mad at me, lol.

Shadowheart: She absolutely adores dark chocolate, and she's absolutely one of those pretentious fuckers who hate milk chocolate, and take anything other than 90-100% cacao as an insult on their fucking bloodline. She does think that she's better than you for liking Dark chocolate- This does not change if she gets her 'good' ending.

If you bring her her favorite type of chocolate, she will not only be impressed but grateful. I feel like she probably has chronic migraines or something and would enjoy sharing it with you some late night with a bottle of wine and a charcuterie board. Probably making flower crowns or feeding animals in a meadow, basic cottagecore lesbian romance stuff. I could be wrong, I've never romanced Shadowheart, but it's just a gut feeling.

Karlach: Karlach likes milk chocolate best, and doesn't see the point in putting up with something bitter just because some people think it's 'better'. More than anything, it reminds her of her mums baking, back when she was a kid. Chocolate is expensive and hard to get your hands on, but by god when the holidays came around or her birthday, I feel like her mum would've baked her the best cookies or chocolate chip muffins after working extra hard to afford it.

Karlach would love whatever type of chocolate you gave her, but I think especially if you brought her hot chocolate or chocolate chip cookies/Muffins/etc, she might even tear up a little. After all, she hasn't had something like that since her mom died.

Wyll: Wyll is a proud enjoyer of chocolate in general, but actually seems to favor white chocolate and dark chocolate the best. He likes to enjoy the contrast in flavors.

I feel like Wyll would just be grateful to be given chocolates, and wouldn't care much what form they came in. He'd probably invite you to enjoy them alongside him, and simply spend time with one another. I do believe he loves dark hot chocolate with whipped cream, and would probably try to set up a day to go to his favorite cafe in baldurs gate for hot chocolate, to return the favor. It's a treat for him, too, since he hasn't been there since his father cast him out. It'll bring a wave of nostalgia, and maybe some unkind memories.. But he will feel happy to be there. Especially to be there with you. And maybe, it'll become a much more common thing.

Astarion: I feel like he prefers dark chocolate, if he's able to eat it at all (I don't remember how vampires work in DnD.)..

If he can't eat it, I feel like he'd miss it.. the simple things. Pleasures like imported chocolates. He might go on a monologue about things he enjoyed as a Mortal that he no longer can.-.. If he can, however, eat chocolate.. I think he'd be surprised. Surprised you thought of him, surprised you spent the money, surprised you wanted to give him anything at all. I think he'd be very happy, but he probably wouldn't want to show it. He'd brush it off with a sarcastic comment or something, yet still taking the mental note that if nobody else cared, at least you did.

Gale: Gale is the most pretentious motherfucker there is, are you kidding me? I think he, himself, loves milk chocolate and it's a major guilty pleasure, but he tells everyone it's dark chocolate. He doesn't shame anyone for their preference, but there comes an air of arrogance whenever he says he likes dark chocolate.

He will definitely be grateful no matter what type you give him, but if you give him milk chocolate and tell him you know it's his favorite? He might try to deny it at first, but his heart is beating a mile a fucking minute knowing that you've been observant enough to bring him his actual favorite type without making a big deal about it, or calling him a liar.

Lae’zel: Has never had chocolate before, and doesn't know why you're giving it to her. She does, however, adore white chocolate after you get her to try some. You'd assume she'd prefer dark, but she doesn't. She believes that if you're going to have a sweet, or a desert, it shouldn't be bitter because that defeats the purpose.

After you get her to try it the first time, she'll insist she doesn't like it or see the reason for it, but at any party or gathering or anything where there's chocolate? She's sampling the fuck out of that snack table, and hovering over the bowl of sweets like a dragon guarding a hoard of treasure. She actually really likes fancy chocolates and truffles. If you bring them to her while in an established relationship, she won't act very different, but she's very happy and feels very loved.

I might do Halsin, Jaheira, Minsc, and Minthara later. Idk.

[astteriskk]

idk what to call this

So, Ace is one of my favorite characters.

It’s not that I particularly love assholeish characters or anything but I relate to him in a lot of ways.

Plus, my mindset has always been that you should be kind to the people that hurt you. You could punch me in the face and my first response would be to apologize for whatever I did to make you dislike me.

I see Ace, someone who acts out and is very unkind and I think of what I used to be like. I think that if you’re kind to people, then they’ll be kind to you. Which is why Ace is the way he is. No one is seriously trying to be kind to him.

Sure, they are at first. But do they really put any effort into trying to be his friend?

He isn’t proud of who he is. He knows he’s an asshole. But he doesn’t know how to change himself. Once you start, it’s hard to stop because everyone else now expects you to act that way. And their expectations effect how you behave.

Ace is also treated as if he’s dumb. Which is part of why I think he doesn’t help out much during trials. If they think you’re an idiot, are they going to listen to what you have to say?

Anyways, this was half analysis of Ace, and half analysis of myself. I love my angy boy.

[apiratefellinlovewithastar]

https://www.tumblr.com/darlingjunebug/728466035752271872?source=share

it's skull, skull is the third party who gets involved bc he's the only who has the emotional intelligence to notice the problem and the lack of self preservation to put himself in the line of fire

There are some pros and cons to being a civilian suddenly thrust into not only the cursed mafia world, but also the cursed mafia world.

Pros: he gets paid to do what he loves—to play out his stunts in a setting where he doesn’t have to hold back so as to not to raise civilian suspicions about his condition, while also getting all of the acclaim when his subordinates genuinely shower him with it.

(Was it a mindfuck when some clown just showed up in his living room trying to reclute him? Yes. Is it dangerous? Yes. But if there’s anything the great Skull-sama loves, it’s a good challenge!)

Cons: once in a while he has to spend time in the vicinity of some less-than-desirable individuals, who consider him—him!—to be the less-than-desirable individual. The nerve!

(He’s not factoring Kawahira’s little misadventure, specifically, into this; getting turned into a toddler isn’t any weirder than being able to regenerate his body and coming back to life in his books.

Now that they’re out of the woods and he can laugh about it, he can begrudgingly admit—in the safety of his mind—that Checker Face did it for a noble cause, despite going about it in a not-so-hot fashion. If Skull were a millennia old being, he would play Russian roulette with some douchebags and give them body dysmorphia just for shits and giggles.

Skull will, however, complain about the acquaintances it left him with, as much as he wants, for as long as they’re assholes—which is shaping up to be for a very, very long time.)

The delightful but ultimately exasperating shit show that are one Sawada Tsunayoshi and Reborn-senpai does not fall into either of those categories, but in a secret, third, second-option-adjacent thing: idiots in love who, despite being more in sync with each other’s emotions than anyone could ever wish to be with their partner’s, couldn’t be more out of touch with their feelings if they tried. (And Skull has seen some paradoxes in his time, okay?)

All of this is relevant because, ultimately, despairingly, he’s gonna have to intervene. Jesus fucking Christ.

None of Tsuna’s little Elements, let alone any of Skull’s former colleagues—or anyone else who could, for that matter—is gonna do jack shit about it. They’re all either too emotionally constipated themselves, too scared of Reborn to dare going against him, or too willing to let them ‘go at their own pace’ (as if that will ever lead anywhere!).

So. It all falls into his hands to do something about it.

Does Skull win anything by meddling? Not in the slightest. On the contrary—

“I do not get paid enough for this shit,” Skull groans. “I do not get paid at all for this shit.”

If anything, he’s risking death by Reborn-senpai!

But he owes it to Tsuna, because despite being obviously influenced by Reborn in more ways than anyone would like, he has never, not even once, been unkind to Skull. Even before the whole Representative Battles happened—and that’s a whole other debt he needs to repay.

Unlike anybody else who has ever interacted with both Skull and Reborn, Tsuna has never once lacked basic human decency. (Skull wishes he had lacked basic human decency; he wouldn’t feel so morally obligated to protect the kid’s heart then.)

Enma pats his back in comfort when Skull hides his face in the other’s shoulder. Earnestly, he says, “I think you’re doing something truly honorable, senpai,” because he’s seen those two and knows what Skull has to deal with; more so than Skull, actually, because while Skull can just fuck-off whenever they get unbearable, Enma lives here and still has to interact with them on a daily basis.

What the fuck.

Skull raises his head long enough to look at him. “How do you deal with it, Enma-kun?”

Like the true child soldier he is—and he’s not gonna open that can of worms at the moment; Jesus, why did he even have to think about it?! One emotional crisis at a time, please!—Enma stares off into space before solemnly saying, “I grew up with Adel and Julie,” like that answers anything.

It kinda does, funnily enough.

“Ne, ne, Enma-kun,” Skull wheedles, getting an idea.

But Enma shakes his head, smiling apologetically before he can even say anything else. “I can’t help you with this,” he says, soothing the sting of his betrayal by running gentle fingers through Skull’s nape. “I grew up with Adel and Julie,” he reiterates meaningfully.

It takes Skull a moment.

“That bitch,” he says with an offended gasp. “She told you not to get involved, didn’t she?!”

Enma tugs gently at a lock in reproach. “Be nice to my sister.”

Skull pouts. Enma’s eyes soften. The fond amusement in his expression makes Skull’s stomach flutter.

(Maybe he has indigestion or something? He’ll have to pick up some Otha’s Isan on his way back.)

“If it makes you feel better, I will cheer you on every step of the way, okay? So hang in there, senpai.”

That does make him feel better.

If nothing else, Skull will at least have a cute little kouhai to come back to and be comforted by when this inevitably blows up on his face.

“Well,” Skull says, revisiting his earlier thoughts. He leans into Enma’s touch, feeling rejuvenated. “If there’s anything the great Skull-sama loves, it’s a good challenge!”

[pygmi-says-hi]

writing experiences - criticism

you're gonna get critiques. you might be asked to give critiques. sometimes it hurts when someone is insensitive about their delivery or says something that hurts your feelings. sometimes you might feel stressed with the pressure of critiquing someone else's work.

it's okay! it doesn't have to be scary! I'll explain some ways to be respectful and to deal with disrespect.

How to critique nicely:

stick to what you know. If you are searching for something to critique on, don't! If you don't see anything, say so. Don't try to find mistakes when you're not sure. that's misleading and it could end up being rude. If you know what you're seeing needs work, say so. if not, recommend a beta reader/critic who might. misinformation is often unkind.

Understand what they're asking of you. If the author only wants advice on a specific paragraph, don't give them advice on the whole page. If the author is only looking for spellcheck, don't comment on the plot. That's overstepping the boundary. Stick to what they gave you.

Ask questions! if you read a piece of dialogue that makes you go "wtf??" ask about it! clarify, 'hey, what did you want to convey here?' so that the advice you give is relevant to their story and not your opinion.

your personal opinion is not always the objective. If you're asked to critique a romance story, don't say something critical 'just because you hate romance'. That's not the point.

Understand the theme and reason they've written what they wrote. If it's satirical and supposed to be a dig at racial stereotypes, don't get hung up on 'yo you wrote that guy racist as hell.' yeah, that's the point. If they write a story from the point of a schizophrenic with no concept of time? There's a reason why the sequence is all jumbled.

Compliment sandwich is always a nice format, but try these too!

yes, and - 'i like this, maybe add this too?'

good, better, best - find something that needs work, a good example, and the best example in their work.

Engage about the work! Ask questions, add comments, let them gush about their story. The more you know, the more helpful your advice will be.

How to receive unwarranted criticism:

it sucks, guys, I know.

Does this person matter? Does the opinion of their comment have any relevance to the story?

Are they trying to be mean? Then the answer is no.

let them know respectfully. Don't respond with your own insult, that does nothing. Just say, "hey, I don't need input on this, thanks." and move on. Or, don't react and block them.

How to receive criticism that is warranted but might be upsetting:

What are they really saying? It might be hard to hear your favorite scene isn't very good. Really look into it, don't take it at face value. Reread the scene with their comments in mind. Does what they say make sense? Can you see where they're coming from? If not, disregard it.

you don't have to listen to everything. pick and choose. If someone suggests something that you think, 'hey, yeah, I get that, I'll fix it.' Do it! if somebody suggests something that you think 'nah, maybe not that direction," don't! You are not obligated to do anything.

Don't give up. It's okay to get critical feedback! Nothing is ever perfect. You are still a good writer and your story deserves to be told.

Talk with the critic! Ask why they felt that way, maybe if they have any ideas beyond what you asked for. get familiar with each other; it'll feel more like a friend than a mean teacher.

xox love you!

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 6

(Frenemies/ Tenderness AU)

SIX: A Terrible Thing to Bear

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: Simon has compromised his own morals in his quest to discover who your secret lover is, but what he discovers is nothing compared to what he imagined. Tempers flare and harsh words are exchanged as the ugly truths you both have kept hidden come to light.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Angst, Hurt/No comfort - not yet anyway, Mentions of sex trade/prostitution, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Simon is being stalker-ish, No use of Y/N

(Notes: This is a rough chapter, y’all. Simon does some questionable things, so fair warning. He’s allowed his obsession with this supposed lover of Reader’s to warp his perception of right and wrong, and his decisions reflect that. While I don’t condone this type of behavior, and I’m not trying to romanticize it at all, I still felt like it was in character with Simon and how he would cope with the situation, treating it like a mission to complete.)

[image via GIPHY]

Word Count: 3350

Chapter 6

“Remorse is a terrible thing to bear, Pam, one of the worst of all punishments in this life. To wish undone something you have done, to wish you could look back on kindness to someone you love, instead of on unkindness - that is a very terrible thing.”

― Enid Blyton, House at the Corner

-

It felt like a betrayal of trust, what he was doing. 

If he had allowed himself to think about it, maybe he would have acknowledged that, yes, it absolutely was a betrayal. However, Simon was in no mood to be swayed from his mission, not even by his own conscience. Even so, his moral compass had taken a severe hit this past week.

He had stolen your phone.

He had every intention of giving it back, he just needed to ‘borrow’ it for a few hours. Still, he felt like a right sorry bastard, having to witness how upset you were over its loss. He consoled himself with the knowledge that your small grief was only temporary and was ultimately for a good cause. If that useless tosser you were seeing wasn’t going to take care of you properly, then Simon needed to intervene. He was doing this for you, he told himself.

Funny, that he had to keep reminding himself of that.

The first order of business was to be able to track you once you left Banfield, thus his reason for stealing your phone. He drove the two hours to base, your cell phone weighing like a stone in his pocket, then handed it over to one of the lab rats in the tech department.

“Need t’be able to trace this long range,” he’d told the tech, handing over your phone.

“Anything else?” the tech asked expectantly.

Putting a tracker on your phone was bad enough. Simon shook his head. “Nah. That’ll do. Need it ASAP.”

The tech looked the cell over and shrugged. “Won’t take long. Are you sure you don’t need access to anything else, though? I can get you detailed logs of calls, texts, search history, locations—”

“Locations?” Simon interrupted. Now, that he would allow. “Can you pinpoint where they were last Sunday?”

The tech nodded, a rather smug expression on his face as he tilted his nose up in the air. “Well, I can tell you where the phone was... approximately.” He took the phone back to his terminal and hooked it up to his computer, then began typing. He hacked into it within minutes, your personal data scrolling down the computer screen. “Alright then, let’s see where you’ve been..." he mumbled to himself. Scrolling down the screen, he paused to ask, "Last Sunday, did you say?”

“Yeah,” Simon muttered, his large frame leaning over the shoulder of the smaller man, eager to see what he’d find.

"Time stamp?"

Simon erred on the side of caution. "Hm, let's say... 0900. They would have been traveling that morning. I need to know where they went."

The tech gave a quick nod. He scrolled for a few more seconds, his brows furrowing. “Huh. Bit of a rough borough,” he muttered. He glanced over his shoulder at Simon, his neck craned. “Judging by the pings, it looks like your target took the overtrain to Hackney last Sunday.”

“Hackney?!” Simon barked, making the tech jump in surprise. ”Where in Hackney?” he demanded.

The tech pushed his glasses back up his nose, blinking up at Simon’s skull mask with an owlish expression. He quickly turned back to the keyboard.

“I can’t pinpoint a specific location, like an address," he warned, fingers dancing over the keys, "but I can narrow it down to a general area." He began to scroll down through more data displayed on the screen and then moved to the side, pointing at the log. 

“Your target reached their destination around eleven Sunday morning. They were stationary for about six hours at a location in Shoreditch. Looks like they were somewhere around the party block.” When Simon gave him a quizzical look, he explained. “Lot of clubs in that area. You know, dance clubs, strip clubs, bars and the like.” He peered up at Simon with a leering little smirk. “Your target isn’t a waitress or a stripper, is she? If she’s got some hot selfies. I could forward ‘em to ya,” he suggested, raising his eyebrows as he waggled your phone back and forth.

Anger, swift as a brush fire, swept through Simon in a flaming rush. The thought of this pervy little creeper going through your photos infuriated him. He yanked the phone away, laying it back on the desk before jabbing a finger into the tech’s boney shoulder. “Jus’ get the bloody tracker operational, then delete everything ya downloaded off that phone. All of it. Understood?”

The tech, realizing his mistake too late, gave a jerky nod as he scrambled to do as Simon commanded, shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder. Once the tracker was installed and activated on your phone, the tech disconnected it and deleted all your data from the system. Tapping the delete button on the last file, he proclaimed it, “Done and done,” with an air of smug bravado.

Simon eyed the younger man. There was just something about this weaselly little punter that didn’t sit right with him. He leaned down close to the tech’s face, skull mask close enough to brush his cheek. "Just a warnin', lad. If ya try t'pull a fast one, an' I find out ya kept, say, the file wif her pictures, I'll be back t'visit ya, an’ I won’t be as pleasant as I was this time.” He drew back to stare into his eyes. “We on the same page, mate?"

The terrified tech gulped, the knuckle of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his scrawny neck. "Y-Yes, sir," he breathed out in a quavering voice.

Simon straightened and clapped a big hand on the tech’s shoulder. "Good lad," he growled, squeezing his hand tight enough to make the young man's eyes widen in pain and panic. "Now get the receiver for the tracker goin’. I got places t’be."

The tech set to work with trembling hands, back spacing several times while typing to correct mistakes made with his nervous fingers. Finally, he managed to program a receiver and synced it to your cell phone, double-checking it before he passed it to the glowering lieutenant.

“S-Sorry about earlier, sir. I meant no offense,” he apologized, holding your phone out in offering.

Simon sneered at the tech as he snatched your cell phone from his hand and stalked out of the room without another word, absolutely seething with rage. However, he wasn't as angry at the little knob he'd just threatened as he was at you. 

What the bloody hell were you doing in Shoreditch? It had one of the highest crime rates in London, and you were just traipsing around the bloody place? His worries increased tenfold at the thought of you walking the streets there after dark, sitting alone and exposed at some inner-city bus stop like a piece of ripe fruit for some low-life to pick at their leisure. Did that bastard you were seeing at least walk you to your stop, make sure you got on the bus safe?

Simon grunted. Probably not. The fact that it was you putting forth all the effort and taking the risks hadn’t escaped him. Fuckin’ minger didn’t give a shite about you. Simon would never let you go somewhere like Shoreditch alone, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let you walk the streets alone at night. Just the thought of it made him feel sick.

His stomach was tied in knots by the time he made it back to his truck and set out for Banfield once more.

It was a long drive home.

-

Sunday...

The train to Hackney came to a halt with a squeal of brakes and a loud hiss. When the automatic doors opened, you quickly stepped out and made your way through the terminal to the main street beyond. You kept your head down, not making eye contact with anyone. Huddling inside your da’s old army jacket, you took a seat on the bench at the bus stop and waited for the bus to Shoreditch.

You didn’t pay any mind to the dark sedan that pulled to the curb across and further up the street, didn’t notice the large silhouette of a man sitting behind the wheel. You kept your eyes straight ahead and pointed down at the grimy sidewalk.

Simon slouched in his seat, the receiver blinking rapidly beside him. He checked his rental car’s mirrors before focusing on you again, taking in your stony expression. At least you knew not to engage with people, stay to yourself. He made a mental note to ask if you carried anything for protection, pepper spray or a knife. Not that those would do much good against some chav with a gun. He gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel.

Your bus arrived and you climbed aboard, taking a seat near the back. Simon waited until it was further up the block but still easily within sight before pulling out to follow. He wasn’t worried about losing track of you now, but he still felt the need to stay close, just in case.

With each stop, Simon tensed, waiting for you to rise and disembark, thinking your secret lover must live in one of the residential buildings that crowded the streets, yet it wasn’t until the bus reached a narrow street lined with shuttered businesses― bars, clubs and cheap eateries mostly, that you stepped off the bus. He pulled to the curb again to watch but felt his heart rate tick up when you turned and began walking in his direction.

“Fuck,” he hissed, trying to slouch in the seat and make himself less visible.

Just before you reached his vehicle, you stopped before a shuttered store front, the facade painted an ugly, lurid rust red, its corrugated shutter a flat black and littered with graffiti. You raised your fist and banged on the shutter, keeping a wary eye out as you waited. A door to the side of the shutter swung open, an older, balding man poking his head out and motioning for you to come inside.

Simon watched you step through the door, disappearing from sight, his eyes travelling up to the name of the establishment printed on the sign above in bold, white letters. ‘The Grind’, it read and below that in a smaller font, ‘Gentleman’s Club’.

“What the bloody fuckin’ hell?” he snarled.

You had just entered a strip club.

You stood in the back near the dressing rooms, a mop bucket filling with water from a tap low on the wall. A cleaning trolley sat nearby, loaded down with everything you’d need. Your boss, Murray, was standing on the other side of the tap, his paunchy frame leaned against the bare brick wall as he tapped away at his phone. He glanced up at you as you shut off the tap and dunked the mop in the bucket.

“Be sure an’ give the private rooms a deep clean. Had a good night last night. The lads kept the girls busy,” he said with a leering smirk.

You tried to hide your disgust at the insinuation. Murray’s ‘girls’ were allowed to supplement their incomes by servicing the club’s clientele with sexual favors. He was little better than a street pimp, taking a cut of their profits for himself in exchange for a safe place to conduct their business. He had cameras hid in the private rooms to make sure none of the dancers shafted him, always keeping a sharp eye on his ‘investments’, as he called them.

If not for the fact he paid you so well, you wouldn’t be caught dead around a dive like this, wouldn’t ever bother to come to Shoreditch or Hackney at all. After moving away from this crime-infested area, you never wanted to return, but your financial situation demanded it. If it wasn’t for this job, you would have to work another part-time job when you weren’t on shift at the pub. Ollie paid you a fair wage, but it wasn’t enough to cover all your living expenses.

Picking up the jug of industrial cleaner from the cart, you poured a measure of it into the bucket of water, wrinkling your nose at its caustic smell. You had no doubt that this is what was damaging your hands. “Hey, Mur. Do ya think you could switch cleaners? This stuff is so strong it takes the skin off my hands.”

Murray shook his head. “That stuff kills everything. No matter what these filthy mingers bring in here, tha’ stuff will take care of it. Just― double up on the gloves ‘r somethin’,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back towards his office.

Arsehole, you thought, scowling after him. You’d have to try and hide your hands from Riley tonight. He’d be checking on them now and would fuss, you knew, no doubt asking more questions. You grimaced at the thought.

You didn’t like dodging his questions and skirting around the truth, but he just wouldn’t leave it alone, and it was getting kind of annoying. You appreciated that he was concerned about your welfare, but he was toeing the line of your personal boundaries, trying to make something his business that simply wasn’t.

You could admit that most of your hesitance to come clean with him was due to your own embarrassment. You were being paid to deep clean what was essentially a brothel. You were paid well for it, sure— well, you were paid hansdomely for your discretion also— but who would want to admit they earned their paycheck tossing out bin bags of used condoms and scrubbing sex rooms clean for a living? You could just picture the look of disgust on Riley’s face if he ever found out.

You blew out a frustrated breath. This whole situation was wearing thin on your patience. You needed to get started, otherwise you risked missing your bus back to the train station later, and you didn’t want to be in Shoreditch after dark, if you could help it. Deciding to start with the trash, first, you grabbed the roll of bin bags from the cart and set off for the private rooms.

Simon strolled past the Grind’s entrance for the third time, eyes darting around beneath the hood of his sweatshirt as he eyed the security camera over the door. He’d spotted others while casing the building, all of them unfortunately operational, save one. It was located at the side emergency exit above the door, lifeless, its red light dead. 

It was his best hope of entry, but it was far from optimal. The alleyway was wide to allow vehicle access, so it was kept clear with few places to hide, far more exposed than he would have liked. He had also checked the emergency door during his first recon of the building, only to find that it was alarmed and locked tight. It wasn’t impregnable, he could still get in, but he would need to bypass the alarm as well as pick the locks, which would take time, and he would need to do all this without being spotted.

It was a recipe for disaster, he knew, his chances of being caught by some random pedestrian high. He was dressed casually, and he’d chosen to wear his surgical mask to draw less attention, but his size was an issue; his large, towering frame drew the curious glances of those he passed. Add that to being dressed in dark clothes and masked, if he was spotted loitering about the exit for too long, someone was bound to report him.

He needed a better look at the alarm and the locks to give him an idea of what this risky endeavor would entail. Turning down the alleyway once more, he kept a leisurely pace, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, seemingly relaxed, just a guy taking a shortcut to get to the next street over. His eyes shifted as he came even with the door, his steps slowing just a fraction, all attention focused on the locks.

He wasn’t expecting the door to suddenly burst open, and he startled, his body turning to face the door head-on. His eyes went wide when you came pushing out the door, hands full of bin bags. Your head shot up at the scuffing sound of his boots on the pavement, startled yourself, your mouth falling open to gasp as your eyes went wide in surprise.

“Riley?!”

Simon felt like a deer in headlights. You’d caught him red handed, nosing around, and only then did he consider how bad this must look. He could already tell by the way you were looking at him that he was about to catch all sorts of hell, so he acted accordingly.

Squaring off as he scowled at you, he growled, “The fuck is this, Dee? You an’ me are goin’ t’have a talk!”

“Oh, you fuckin’ bet we are!” you snapped back, flinging the bin bags down as you marched towards. him. You jabbed your finger at him as you gave him a baleful look. “You followed me,” you accused, voice low and angry. “You just couldn’t stand not knowing, could ya? You just had to know, so you followed me here, doggin’ my steps like some bloody’ creeper.” You glared at him, mouth pinching up in anger. “I am so fucking pissed at you, right now.”

Feeling defensive and irrationally betrayed, he glared at you, speaking in a venomous tone. “Don’t give a fuck how pissed ya are,” he huffed, then scoffed at your shocked expression. “So, this is yer big secret? Ya give lap dances to dirty old pervs to pay yer rent?” 

You wouldn’t have been more shocked if he had slapped you across the face. He’d said plenty of mean things to you in the past when the two of you argued, but he had never been cruel to you like this. Never. Pain as sharp as a dagger pierced your heart, but quickly morphed into fury. A thunderous look darkened your expression. Before you knew what you were about, you planted your hands on his chest and shoved him, hard. It caught him off guard enough that he staggered a step back, eyes going wide in surprise.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again!” you snarled, stepping away. “Better yet, don’t fuckin’ speak to me at all.” You spun on your heel and went back to the door, only then noticing it had closed behind you. You were locked out. Growling in frustration and on the verge of tears, you curled your hands into fists and began marching stiffly towards the street exit. You’d have to get Murray to let you back in.

Simon came around you and blocked your way, his eyes full of rage until he saw the expression on your face. Tears were threatening to spill, hurt sharp and bright in your eyes. “Doll, listen. I―”

“I trusted you. You were supposed to be my friend.” Your breath hitched, and a tear rolled down your face. You gave a furious shake of your head when he opened his mouth and hurried to step around him. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Doll, wait!” he called after you, but you shook your head and walked faster.

“Don’t, Riley. Just...leave me alone.” Your voice wavered on the last word, and you broke into a jog, hurrying around the corner and out of sight.

Simon stared after you, the reality of what he’d just done, what he’d just said to you, settling in his chest like cold lead, his heart crushed beneath the weight of his own remorse.

-

- Prev. >> Next

Taglist:

@stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha

[taylortruther]

(im sorry sometimes i just send you long asks about my opinions, but it’s because i feel like even if you disagree or think what im saying is dumb (for the lack of a better word), you would be nice and gentle about it haha. ignore me if you want!)

maybe the way i view celebs is “wrong” but i grew up in india, and i literally learned to never rely on them. they do and say the dumbest things, but no one bats an eye because it’s like “ofc this famous person said and did this.” in the same vein, i don’t rely on her to feel that im making a difference in society by calling her out. as for everyone always talking about expecting better from her, i literally don’t expect anything from her. i obviously recognize that her outreach is so very wide so of course i would love if she did say something and addressed certain things, but i have seen that she will not speak on issues pertaining to other countries and sticks to her lane with 3-5 major things in the US, so why would i expect her to speak about anything else? having followed her for so long, based on past, how could i and why would i? (this sounds unkind i think but i actually mean it in a kind way lmao). her speaking on things would just bring me personal peace that she did her part and that i support a good person, but beyond that, if i actually want change, why would i focus on her at alllll instead of focusing on an actual political figures? that’s time spent doing something that will result in nothing instead of something else (i realize this is extremely ironic because im typing this long ask and spending time on it 💀 i love being a hypocrite i guess)

instead of focusing any of my energy wanting her to do things she probably won’t do, i spend my time actually supporting things i believe in, and constantly having uncomfortable conversations with people around me. and the impact i have is actually very little compared to all that other people do, so instead i spend time feeling guilty about it and thinking what can i do? (that’s kinda a joke but also not a joke at all alkjgdgsj)

also, like im so in terms of how she and i are different. im a poc immigrant, and im extremely privileged in general, but compared to her it’s nothing. she is the biggest star in the world. no way our approach or thinking aligns. i feel like calling her out and constantly thinking about her “wrongs” just makes me feel conflicted about her. i don’t want to align myself with her politically and not because she is a conservative or something but because there are other people who are more sensible to align myself with. and it’s not that i don’t critically think about her, but that im being selfish and affording myself this luxury.

basically, all that word-jargon to say i love her music and i love her as a person and her traits very dearly, and the way she approaches political issues is something i used to be in gripes with but have accepted and come to terms with. and maybe i have cognitive dissonance and im actually blind to how evil she is because im a “cupcake” swiftie, but oh well. i guess i just have no morals then 😭

arshia i completely agree with you and imo this describes my own mentality about it really well. she does not represent me and frankly i do not really want her to try. of course, i wish she'd come out and say some shit like "MONEY FOR WAR BUT NOT FOR CITIZENS? CALL YOUR REPS AND SIT IN IN ALL THEIR OFFICES" fjdkasl but i'm not going to hold my breath. taylor's conscience is her own, i can't control it!

and if someone cannot stomach celebrities at all because of what they represent - FAIR! i turn off that part of my brain to be on here, because this is my fun lil hobby. and i think i am making more of an impact irl than i ever could on here. although, if anyone learns anything about their own politics through my blog, i consider that a win.

[furiousgoldfish]

hello!

i decided to ask for some advice, if you don't really know, you can encourage ppl to answer in replies/rbs, that's totally fine.

the question of disability has long since been on my mind, and for a while now, i've considered myself disabled. physically i'm not the worst, but my mental problems often render me unable to do anything at all, from taking care of myself and my living space, to doing any activities (especially if it's some kind of job), to even thinking straight - i think my headmates try to get through to me in those moments, but it usually doesn't reach me when it's really bad, so it falls onto my own shoulders to keep myself from harming the body. my first ask for advice is with this. what are some tips for surviving those pretty frequent moments, or maybe lessening their intensity or frequency? maybe some internal/external system communication tips?

that's not the only thing, though. since i'm unemployed, i have to depend on my parents for money - my mother neglected me for the better part of my life, and my father abused me. it's a whole can of worms, but the most important issue is that disability payments in my country aren't really enough to pay for everything, and so i somehow have to convince my mother that i am, in fact, disabled and unable to get a job, and manage to keep her financial support, as that's unfortunately my only option seemingly. if you or anyone can give some advice on that, i'd be really grateful.

apologies for such a long one. try to stay safe and take some care of yourself!

Oh wow you're asking for dissociative disorder advice, something I'm very not qualified to give! I do fully believe that mental problems sabotaging you from being able to take care of yourself, and struggling to just not harm the body, count as a disability, and you deserve and should be given help, you do not deserve to have to fight so badly just to get to survive, and it should be society's responsibility to help you be safe and sound (not that I know how to get this from society, it's a tough issue).

I know all common information on osdd suggests improving communication and getting to know your headmates better, but I can imagine this is tougher to say than to do, and I haven't managed it either, it's a big mess in here too, but I still don't experience what you do – not being able to think, wanting to do harm to yourself, I am somehow protected from this, so I don't know what would help such extreme situations, but it sounds extremely serious and I hope you can find a way to resolve it, I am sure it's not something that cannot be resolved. This should be able to get better.

I'm so sorry that you have to depend on your parents due to disability and a dissociative disorder that they likely caused; it's unfair and messed up. And that the disability payments are not enough to give you safety, that is extremely unfair and unkind. I'm not sure how you'd be able to convince a neglectful parent that you're disabled, it's difficult to convince neglectful parents of anything since their main feature is not caring about how you're doing and just expecting things out of you endlessly. I feel like maybe if she got information about the dissociative disorder, not from you, but from people she respects and wants to impress, that this might sway her, but it's impossible to tell because it might also not work.

Yeah I'm really sorry that all I can do is confirm that your situation is difficult and one that nobody would want to be in, and you're asking some real serious and tough questions here. I can say you're asking the good and right questions though! I can tell that you're looking very seriously to resolve this and you're trying to find any way to freedom and protection from abuse, and I love that, I'm sure you'll eventually get there, because you are looking in a good direction.

If anyone else could give advice to anon, please respond to this post!

[thetarttfuldickhead]

As much as I love Roy telling Jamie he’s proud of him (and then maybe not punching him in the face aftewards, idk, could be a thing) I’ve also grown partial to the idea of Jamie telling Roy that he’s proud of him, ‘cause well, Roy needs a bit of that too, I think.

I haven’t got the details figured, but maybe something vaguely along the lines of the ending to the “My Fallen Idol” episode of Scrubs, where Dr. Cox (having failed to save several of his patients) is depressed, drunk and not talking while unshaven and wrapped in a blanket on his couch. JD shows up, gives him a quiet but heartfelt peptalk and tells him he’s proud of him, because even after so long as a doctor Dr. Cox still cares enough to take it that hard when things go wrong.

So say Roy fucks something up. It’s not necessarily his fault; he does his best given the circumstances or acts unwittingly, but it goes tits up and he ends up making a mess of things. Not a “people died” mess, but still really quite bad. (I honestly don’t know what this could be. Maybe something slightly careless he says blowing up in the media and somehow really fucking over a young footballer? Maybe something else entirely. That’s not the important part.)

And this is Roy, who cares so very deeply but is so very unkind to himself, and the guilt and fucking shame of having fucked someone (especially a young someone!) over like that, particularly when he’s already struggling with the feeling that he can’t change for the better, that he’ll always be the same fucking idiot I’ve always been? Yeah, I don’t think he’d deal very well. He also, and obviously, wouldn’t want to talk about it.

And depending on how much hurt (and comfort) you want from this, you could either simply have Roy pull a Roy and retreat to an ice bath, and Jamie letting himself in like Ted once did, and giving a little (slightly clumsy but very earnest) speech about how fucking proud he is of Roy, and Roy has no fucking idea how to handle all the emotions that inspire, but, yeah. It helps.

Or you can drag it out a bit and have Roy stubbornly insisting he is fine and hiding behind his usually gruff exterior, only he’s not doing fine and eventually he shows up at training still drunk from trying to drown his self-loathing in way too much whisky, and Rebecca takes him home and tries to talk to him, and when that doesn’t work she calls Keeley, and Keeley’s a comfort, she always is, but this time it’s not enough (or just too early). Jamie shows up after training, bringing dinner, and he sits down next to Roy and, again, brings out the speech. It doesn’t magically make everything right, because how could it, but it’s enough to start from. Enough to give Roy the courage to begin anew.

Or if you really want to dial that angst right up, we can have Jamie – like JD in the Scrubs episode – put off visiting, making comments about how it was fucking unprofessional showing up to Nelson Road like that, Roy would have had their heads if they’d tried pulling anything like it, so why should the gaffer get special consideration? Beard and Rebecca and Nate and Isaac and his sister and Keeley all take turns sitting with Roy while he quietly stews in despair on his couch, but Jamie is inconspicuously absent.

Until he isn’t, because of course he relents in the end, and he shows up to tell Roy that yeah, he made it out like he was angry with Roy for showing up drunk, but really he was freaked out because Roy’s always been so fucking strong and Jamie’s always counted on and leaned on that strenght, back when he was a kid and they didn’t know each other and back when they were teammates and fighting all the time and most of all since Roy became his coach and his best friend. Like, Jamie knows Roy isn’t perfect – like, really man, you are not– but Roy’s strenght has been a constant and a comfort in Jamie’s life and having to face that fact Roy isn’t some sort of superhero… that scared him, yeah. But that’s Jamie’s problem, not Roy’s, and so he’s here to tell Roy how fucking proud he is of him, for how much he fucking cares and how hard he works at being there for all of them, even though he thinks he’s no good at it. But you are, yeah? Fucking good at it. But that’s not the really important bit, anyway. The important bit is that you’ve always kept trying, even when that meant doing stuff you fucking hated or were scary or hard. ‘Cause it isn’t easy for you, this shit, but you keep at it anyway, because you care, and that’s… Dead proud of you for that, Roy. Really am.  

[anxious-witch]

Inertia 7

Summary: Newton's first law expresses the principle of inertia: the natural behavior of a body is to move in a straight line at constant speed. In the absence of outside influences, a body's motion preserves the status quo.

Jan choose a direction of his life the moment he walked out of his parents house and cut all contact with them. He didn't want anything to do with them, or God anymore. Even his soulmark he wished he could leave behind. But when Nace Jordan joins the band, with a mark matching his own, can Jan keep going the same way he did? Or will the force make him change a direction?

Pairings: Jan Peteh/Nace Jordan

Warnings: None, I think? Please do tell me if I'm wrong I'll edit ot immediately

Notes: AO3 link

urprise! Early update of the last chapter. Thank you everyone who made it this far, especially people who consistently commented throughout. I have several things to say before you jump right in.

1) I am aware JO didn't actually preform at the EMA, but since this is already and au and I really liked the concept of the scene, it is here. Just roll with it 2) There will (hopefully) be two fics following this one, one with the focus on Bojan and the other on Kris. I am not sure exactly when I'll be writing and post them though, since December is quite busy, but until then, at least this is finished.

Anyway, this part is pretty much all fluff and very cheesy at the end, but I figured we all deserved it after all the angst

I believe that witness is a magnitude of vulnerability. That when I say love what I mean is not a feeling nor promise of a feeling. I believe in attention. My love for you is a monolith of try.

The woman I love pays an inordinate amount of attention to large and small objects. She is not described by anything. Because I could not mean anything else,

she knows exactly what I mean.

Once upon a time a line saw itself clear to its end. I have seen the shape of happiness. (y=mx+b) I am holding it. It is your hand.

What Space Faith Can Occupy By TC Tolbert

Jan wondered if light green walls of the therapist's office were suppose to somehow elevate the space. Made it seem more colorful.

Personally, it only reminded him more if a hospital.

Still, just as in all previous sessions, he had to remind himself he wasn't there just for himself. Kris had been genuinely worried after his breakdown. Jure and Bojan didn't know about it, but they likely suspected something had transpired.

He would need to tell Bojan about him and Nace eventually. But that, at least, was a problem for future Jan.

There was also Nace to think about. In the past three weeks, there had been slow, almost painful progress made between them. Still, he was trying. That counted for something, right?

He turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

His therapist was a young woman, Jan would guess somewhere in her thirties. She hat jet black hair and looked perfectly put together. She reminded him of Kris in that regard.

Which made sense, considering he only got a spot so quickly due to Kris' connections. Jan really, really didn't want to think about how he managed that.

"So, Jan," Nina said, "do you want us to continue on where we stopped last time, or do you have something from this week you'd like to discuss?"

Her voice was unkind, or even cold, but Jan still had to force himself to talk sometimes. His trust issues weighted heavily on him in moment like these.

"Well, no. Except that Nace and I actually went to play basketball, but I mentioned we will last week anyway."

Nina patiently waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she spoke again.

"How was it?"

Jan sighed. It was awful. Jan felt genuinely bad for even going along with it, considering how much Nace hated any sport that you had to play with the ball. It ended when Nace didn't manage to catch the ball one time Jan threw it. It hit him in the face and made his nose bleed.

Jan supposed there was a metaphor there somewhere.

"It wasn't great. Nace is...really bad at basketball."

She quickly wrote something down and Jan tried his best not to feel judged.

"And how did you feel about it?"

"Shitty, I guess. I didn't make him play, but it kind of felt like I did."

Nina tapped her pen to the notes.

"From what I have here, it seems Nace usually initiates these activities and they seem to be activities you like. Am I correct?"

Jan shrugged.

"Yes."

"And what do you think about that?"

How many times could she ask him that? Wasn't she supposed to tell him what to think about that? Jan felt increasingly annoyed.

"Why do you keep asking that? If you want to say something, then say it."

She pursed her lips.

"I am not here to tell you how to feel, Jan. I am here to help you verbalize it."

That was the dumbest fucking answer he ever heard.

"I already said I feel bad about it. What more do you want me to say?"

"Have you thought about doing the same for him?"

Jan paused. He haven't. Or well-he had, but he wasn't really sure there was an activity Nace liked that they could do together.

"I don't know if we have anything in common. Other than music, I mean. I know he is trying, but maybe this wasn't a good idea, after all."

Nina nodded, his face neutral. Always so goddamn neutral.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"What, and break his heart? He'd just try even harder. I don't-"

I don't know what to say to make him give up on me. Jan clenched his teeth.

"I think you should consider trying one of his activity. Surely, there is something he likes that you don't hate."

Jan took in a deep breath. He was fighting the urge to mess up his nails even more, but if he started bleeding during practice again, even Bojan will notice.

"I guess. But that doesn't solve the main issue, does it?"

Nina sighed.

"Alright. How about you think about it, and we talk about something else for the rest od the session?"

Jan agreed and they moved on, but the thought stayed with him. Was he simply not putting enough effort?

The question haunted him enough for him to drive to Nace's apartment few hours later. He only sent him a text asking if he was home, and once he got a confirmation, he sat in the car and drove here.

It was probably rude, but Jan figured that if Nace had an issue with him being rude, they wouldn't be here in the first place.

It wasn't until he rang the doorbell and heard the barking did he remember Nace had a dog. Ollie.

He knew that, of course. It was just that the two of them usually met outside of Nace's apartment and several times they came here, Ollie was being babysat by Nace's sister.

Well. Jan supposed it was bound to happen to or later. If Ollie hated him, did that mean he was immediately disqualified from soulmate status?

Nace opened the door, trying to keep Ollie from rushing into the hallway. Jan felt caught off guard, despite the fact that he was the one who rang the doorbell.

Nace was wearing a tank top. Had Jan ever seen him in one before?

"Please get in before he runs out, I don't feel like trying to catch him."

Jan quickly stepped into the apartment and Nace closed the door behind him. The Nace carefully let Ollie come closer.

Jan kneeled down, offering his hand for him to sniff at. He liked dogs well enough, but he was always at a bit of a loss on what to do with them.

Cats you had to build a bond with. Usually just being in their general vicinity was enough at the start. You let them come to you. Even if you offered them treats, you had to leave them at the same distance at first.

Dogs? Dogs were unpredictable. They could love you or hate you your smell. Or whatever it was that they could feel around you.

"Dogs can always tell if a person is good or bad", his brother used to say. Jan, who had dogs both love and hate him for no clear-cut reasons over the years, couldn't quite agree.

Dogs could feel something, certainly. But that something was only a first impression and they choose that intangible thing as a base to be loyal or not.

Cats, at least got to know you first before making any judgments.

Ollie sniffed his hand and cocked his head to the side, as if trying to gauge if he was alright or not.

"Hello," Jan said awkwardly.

Ollie came closer, nudging his snout against his hand and Jan carefully petted him on the head, waiting to see the reaction. When he started wagging his tail, Jan felt relieved.

Nace's dog hating him wasn't something he wished to deal with. There were plenty of other things that made him want to turn back and run away.

"He seems to like you," Nace said softly.

One bad call he share with his owner, Jan thought grimly as he stood up.

"That's good. I think we should talk."

Nace sighed.

"As much as I love how direct you are, that sounds very ominous."

Jan simply took his shoes off and shrugged off his jacket.

Ollie followed them as they went into the living room. Jan wondered if they were creating some sort of bad karma for the place, having all their fucked up conversations here.

Or perhaps he spent too much time around Bojan and his superstitiousness was starting to rub off of him.

"Do you want something to drink first or-"

"How about we just get this over with and then after you can offer me stuff if you want me to stay?"

Nace awkwardly sank into the couch, far enough that Jan would have to stretch to be able to touch him, despite his long arms. Was it for his own comfort, or for Jan's?

They were closer physically since they talked the last time. Sitting closer, hand brushing against each other, squeezing each other's shoulders on occasion. That sort of thing.

Now, though, there was no of that. As if Nace was already getting used to the distance. Which Jan supposed was fair, even if he felt a familiar burning at the soulmark.

Before Jan could say anything, though, Ollie jumped on the couch and attempted to nuzzled at his chest. Jan felt thrown off balance a bit as he petted him, which only prompted Ollie to settle in his lap.

"I don't think I am doing this whole thing right," Jan confessed, not taking his eyes off Ollie.

"Could you please be more specific?"

Jan scratched behind Ollies ear. Matej's dog liked that. Ollie made a content sound so Jan continued.

"You keep putting so much effort into liking things that I like and trying them out. And I-I mean I can do it too, but I don't know if it's even right. Like, shouldn't we already have matching interests? Is it even healthy if we both have to change?"

He took his hands off Ollie and clenched them in frustration. He hated how his tongue always felt like lead when he was supposed to talk about these things. He harshly pulled at his hair and tied it back with the tie around his wrist.

"This works like any other relationship would, Jan."

Jan scoffed.

"Does it? I don't remember any of my friends tailoring their interests to fit me."

Nace took in a deep breath. Jan learned he always did that when he was frustrated, like he was stopping himself from saying anything before he was ready.

"Really? Kris never tried listening to metal for you? He knows you favorite brand of tea on accident? You always keep ear plugs in your car if he gets overstimulated because, what? You did that before you were friends?"

Jan felt speechless.

"That's-

"Different? Yeah, of course it is, because this is Kris we are talking about."

Nace sounded resigned. Hurt, even. Jan slowly looked at him, but now it was Nace avoiding his gaze. He was staring at his hands, his expression troubled.

"I don't mean to say discard your and Kris' friendship. I think it's amazing you have him, but I'm jealous. Not because I think there is anything going on, but because you seem to allow others to get close to you while keep me at arms length. And I don't know what to do at this point to change your mind."

Jan's heart squeezed painfully. He never heard Nace so resigned. He was always the one to try and find a solution and not give up.

He gently set Ollie on the couch, despite his small, protesting whine. Then he stood up sat closer to Nace. Close enough that their shoulders touched. This time, he was the one to take Nace's hands in his.

"I'm sorry. You are right."

Nace's head slowly rose, like he barely dared to be hopeful and look at Jan straight on.

"I was, well I am scared. We said we'll be friends, but I don't think I can be your friend. From the moment we met, I kept you at arm length and for one single moment I didn't, we ended up hooking up. You terrify me, Nace."

Nace's breath stuttered. Jan leaned his forehead against Nace's and closed his eyes.

"I had all but convinced myself everything about soulmates was bullshit, that all that was stories and people kept confirming them because they were desperate for it to be true. But that was all it was, a placebo effect. And then you came along. Shattered everything I thought I knew."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Nace's hand touched his neck, just a bit below the soulmark. Jan took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"May I?"

"Yes."

The first time Nace touched the soulmark, Jan was too terrified to even appreciate the sensation. But he did now. The feeling was warm and safe. Jan expected his heart to race, but instead it calmed down, as if soothed by Nace's touch.

Something about a gesture made something deep inside him uncoil and words just started pouring out of him.

"When I was fifteen, I started secretly listening to metal. The first time I did, I felt so guilty, I ended up crying and not allowing myself to eat for a day, as a penance. For weeks, I had been worse off than if I had never listened to it. It took me months to gather the courage to try again."

Jan hoped Nace would understand he was saying. He wasn't sure he could say it outright. Nace hummed.

"You are afraid, but you also know that doesn't mean this is bad because you are afraid."

Jan nodded, but Nace didn't say anything immediately after. When he finally spoke, he didn't say what Jan expected him to.

"When I was twelve, I was bullied a lot because of my weight. I remember being terrified of going to school. The only place I felt safe in was the church, because nobody bullied me there. I felt safe. Even if the conditions and rules weren't perfect, it was still better."

Jan opened his eyes, almost indignantly.

"I am not a church."

Nace cracked a small smile.

"No. But you are a safe space, even if the conditions and rules you impose aren't perfect."

Jan's answer was to kiss him. Not roughly, like he did before, but softly and slowly. Giving Nace time to pull away.

He didn't, instead he kissed him back and pulled him closer. One of Jan's hands curled around Nace's nape and the other reached for his wrist. He knew exact moment he touched his soulmark, because Nace shivered.

The only way Jan could describe the feeling was that the bond between them sang. Like the world slightly tilted and found a perfect balance.

Like they were perfect together.

Jan had to pull back from the kiss, fighting a near overwhelming fear that washed over him. Nace didn't let him go far this time, instead pulling him in a hug.

"It's okay."

Nace's voice was soft, and he was warm and comfortable and it was almost unbearable.

"I know it's fucking okay," Jan said, his voice breaking.

He buried his head in Nace's chest and hope he didn't feel the tears soaking his shirt. Nace didn't say anything after that, he simply held him as he cried.

Until the tears dried out and the fear slightly pulled back. Still, some doubts remained.

"What if the rules and conditions can't be improved anymore? What if this is just...who I am?"

He pulled back a bit, to study Nace's face as he answered. Unexpectedly, Nace grinned.

"Well, if a church gets a new priest-"

Jan rolled his eyes at the awful joke.

"You've been hanging with Bojan too much."

Nace was still grinning.

"A priest can also recommend new way of worship-"

Jan groaned loudly and pushed Nace back, so he landed on his back, laughing openly. He had a beautiful, infectious laugh that Jan couldn't help but laugh along as well.

"Please don't use church metaphors anymore. They are awful."

Nace stretched his arms over his head, exposing his muscles and tattoos even more. Jan couldn't help, but let his gaze linger on them.

"Make me."

Jan was never the one to avoid temptation. And Nace had always been so tempting. Almost like a red apple in a garden without color. Jan leaned down and kissed him again.

Nace melted into the kiss and reached out to him again. His hands reached Jan's hair and Jan tense slightly, but Nace gently pulled at the tie, until his hair spilled from the ponytail.

Jan was distracted enough by the kiss to let him. He wanted Nace closer and-

They were interrupted by a loud, insistent whine. Jan pulled back enough to look in the direction it came from, finding Ollie looking at them with the saddest expression he could possibly muster.

Nace burst out laughing, his whole body shaking.

"I think he doesn't like me hogging his new favorite."

Jan chuckled, sitting back up. He held his hand out and petted Ollie gently, immediately receiving a lick on his hand.

"Maybe I could have some sort of tea, if the offer still stands," Jan said, not looking away from Ollie.

"It absolutely does. I have mint tea Kris mentioned you liked."

Traitor, Jan thought, giving away my secrets.

"Nace?"

"Yeah?"

"Which one is your favorite?"

Jan turned his head to look, catching a surprise that flitted across his face before it melted in a soft smile.

"Probably chamomile."

Of course. The calming thing one always drank when they felt unwell to soothe and comfort. It fit him.

"I'll remember that."

With that Nace went into the kitchen, and Ollie brough Jan a ball he could throw for him. Jan took in a deep breath, feeling as if he just climbed a mountain. Whatever happened after this, he had a feeling he could handle after.

As terrifying as it could get.

Jan was nervously tapping his fingers against the wheel, resisting the urge to bite his nails. It was not a smart thing to do while driving.

"Are you really not going to tell me where we are going?"

He chuckled a bit at Nace's pleading tone. This really was an unusual role reversal for both of them, wasn't it?

"I told you, it's a surprise."

Nace huffed and settled back in his seat. Jan sneaked a glance at him when he stopped at the red light. Nace had his arms crossed over his chest, his warm brown jacket tightly wrapped around his biceps.

"One would think I am taking you to get shot," Jan teased, turning his gaze back to the road as the light changed to green.

Nace laughed at that, at least, his shoulders relaxing.

"No, I just-I am not used to surprises. You barely gave me any hints on what to wear!"

Jan smirked.

"I said wear something comfortable that you don't mind getting dirty."

He could feel Nace's unimpressed stare on him.

"Very helpful."

Jan chuckled and took a left turn, parking to the side. Nace immediately started glancing around, trying to gauge where they were. Jan couldn't help but think it was kind of cute.

He unbuckled his belt and got out of the car, waiting for Nace to do the same. When he did, he led him to a nearby building.

Nace was frowning, trying to piece together what they were doing. Jan decided to take pity on him.

"It's a pottery class."

His head immediately snapped towards Jan, his eyes widening.

"You are taking me to a pottery class??"

Jan swallowed, growing nervous all of a sudden. Did he misjudge? Did Jure mix something up?

"Jure mentioned you wanted to try it since your sister did pottery. I thought..."

"No! I mean, yes, I love the idea!"

He sounded so eager, so terrified that Jan would change his mind and snatch the offer away from him. Jan felt bad. Was he truly treating him in a way that made him think he'd play him like this for a joke?

"Alright then. Let's go."

There were people inside already, and their teacher quickly introduced himself. He gave them instructions on hand-building techniques with clay, saying they need to get used to that before they can move to the pottery wheel.

The process was messy and Jan underestimate just how bad he was at shaping the clay. When Nace looked over and saw his wonky cup, he doubled over laughing.

Jan side-eyed him, before taking a bit of clay and smearing it over Nace's shirt. Nace gasped.

Then he grabbed a piece of clay and smeared it over Jan's cheek. Jan slapped his hair away, trying to rub it off.

"If this gets into my hair Nace, I swear-"

Nace laughed again and someone shushed them.

"Can you two please let the rest of us work?" A blond man left of them said.

He was short, with blind hair just below his ears. He was frowning at them intently, reminding Jan of an annoyed cat.

His tall, tattooed friend-or partner, how could Jan know, really-gently pulled him by the sleeve.

"Lovro, com'on. They are just having fun. Look at this."

The man, well maybe even a boy, with how soft his features looked, immediately turned to the other man. He looked at him like...oh.

Jan looked at Nace, who was clearly eyeing the situation, seeing if Jan could handle it or if he needed to get involved.

Jan was hit by the sudden realization of how much he had come to care for him. Despite all the back and forth and his own grievances, he was-

He stopped his thoughts before any bigger words came to mind. It was still too early to think that. But maybe it wouldn't be, eventually.

Jan never thought of himself as someone who could settle down and yet that spark of hope still lived, nestled deep in his chest.

Maybe.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Nace asked, titling his head to the side.

Jan shook his head.

"Nothing. Let's try to shape these into something decent before we do that...wheel thing, yeah?"

Nace smiled, like a sudden light igniting in the dark.

"Yeah."

As Jan tried to save his clay cup, he suddenly felt bolder. He could ask, right? At worst, Nace will refuse, but when did Nace refuse him before? Jan cleared his throat.

"You could...come over after, if you'd like. You didn't meet Igor yet."

He didn't look up as he asked the question. It would be easier to take a no when he didn't have to worry about which expression he was making.

"You want me to come over?"

There was that tone again. Like Nace was shocked by this. Like Jan wasn't trying to do better for weeks now. He supposed he'd just have to keep trying.

"If you'd like to, yes. I did get some chamomile tea recently."

He sneaked a glance in Nace's direction. His eyes were soft and his mouth was lightly open, as if in wonder. Jan's heart started beating fasted.

"I would like that," Nace said quietly, looking directly at him.

Jan had to look away, but he couldn't help but smile slight. There was slight fear in his stomach still, but there was no ringing of the church bell, or an urge to reach for a necklace that wasn’t there.

He was still himself and he was still in control of it all. Simply taking steps in the right direction. It had been as if he was in inertia for very long time. After being stuck for so long, it was hard to get back into motion, but once he did, he knew it would get easier.

All he had to do was keep moving.

All Jan could hear was a drum of his own heart as they waited for the host to announce them. Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was finally time for them to preform at EMA. To try and get chosen to represent Slovenia at Eurovision. The importance, the fragility of the moment made all the colors more intense, almost as if they were in new, swirling patterns.

Jan took a look at his bandmates. Each of them in a different outfit that fit them perfectly. Bojan, in his loud combination of green shirt and pink pants, that he somehow managed to pull of regardless.

Kris, in a gold sleeves shirt and lighter pink pants that match. Of course-Kris always knew how much attention to draw to himself. Not too much and not too little.

Jure, with sky blue button up that perfectly fit his sunshine personality and darker purple pants for contrast.

All of them looked amazing, really. But it was Nace that Jan couldn't look away from.

Nace, who finally wore color. A purple suit with a silver shirt underneath. The suit had intricated details that made Jan want to run his fingers over the material and feel it's shapes.

When he arrived, he was always pale beige in their mix of chaos and color. Slowly but surely, that changed. And here they were now.

Jan shuffled closer to him, almost as if pulled by an invisible force. He could feel it, but he found it more comforting now, rather than scary.

"Ready?" He whispered, smiling at him.

"Ready," Nace answered, briefly brushing his hand against Jan's.

"And next up, we have Joker Out!"

They stepped on the stage as the people clapped and Jan could feel the adrenaline fully hitting him. He couldn't concentrate on whatever Bojan briefly said before he started singing.

All Jan could focus on was playing. His fingers slid over the strings just as perfectly as they did the very first time he nailed a song when he was sixteen.

Everything else faded away, like looking at the world through a sort of fog. Only music existed. Even Bojan's singing was slightly muted in that moment. Like Jan was alone with his guitar.

Then his gaze slid to Nace and he found him already looking in his direction. Nace, who still had the ability to be in Jan's bubble that one else could touch.

He didn't mind the company, though. Not anymore.

He sent him a little wink and watched as his cheeks turned slightly red. Then he turned back to the audience and took a deep breath. Then let the bubble snap and all the sound and sensations rush back to him.

Because there was never really a need for the bubble at all. Not when he was at the safe space.

There was no divinity here. None other than the music itself, that they shared with the audience.

When they played the last note, there was a thunderous applause and part of Jan already knew. He could feel it in their bones that they won.

The knowing of being at the right place, at the right time. With just the right people, too.

The rest od the night passed in a blur. Jan knew he talked to people, but later he'd be unable to recall what he said. He'd remember the high of the announcement that they won and all of his friends rushing into a group hug.

It wasn't until they all changed back to their everyday clothes and were waiting for Bojan in the cold, that the realization finally started to sink in.

"We won," he whispered into the night air.

"We did," Kris said, smiling.

Whatever makeup they put on him made him look more ethereal than usual. He looked more content than Jan had seen him for awhile.

"What is Bojan doing for so long?" Jure wondered, his eyes lingering on the doors they all cane through.

It was odd. As much as Bojan paid attention to his looks, he never took this long.

"I'll go check," Jan said, getting to his feet.

Jan felt slightly guilty, over how little he talked to Bojan outside of the practice in recent weeks. Being caught up in the whole soulmate dilemma, he didn't take the time to pay as much attention to his friends.

Well, that was another thing he could start fixing now.

He found Bojan in the changing room, completely dressed, but staring off through the window.

"Bojan? Is everything okay?"

Bojan flinched, as if woken up from a very deep sleep. He blinked at Jan, confused.

"Ah, yeah! Yeah, I was just a bit lost in thought. Did you guys wait for me for long?"

Jan stepped closer, putting his hand on Bojan's shoulder. Bojan leaned into the touch, breathing out slowly.

"Are you sure you are alright?"

"I-" Bojan bit his lip, his gaze jumping around the room almost frantically, never staying for long and completely avoiding Jan's face.

"I just...this is a lot. It feels enormous. And of course, of course I am happy we won. It just feels like we set a new course all of a sudden, if that makes sense. Like it feels like my life already changed."

Jan pulled him into a hug. Bojan took in a sharp breath and then relaxed, hugging him back. They just stayed like that for a moment.

"I know. It's terrifying but it's going to be okay. You have us, alright?"

Bojan's arms tightened around him for a bit.

"Yeah."

They were silent for a bit and Bojan already pulled away from the hug when Jan spoke again.

"I actually owe you an apology. With how I reacted when you brought up soulmates for all these years."

Bojan shrugged.

"It's fine. I figured it was a sensitive topic."

Jan shook his head.

"Yes but it's not an excuse. I am sorry, Bojan. You were allowed to be excited at prospect of meeting them without me putting you down for it."

He rubbed tips of his fingers against the nail of his thumb. Resisting the urge to mess it up more.

"I won't say I completely understand, even now with Nace. I still very much love being independent from him. But I am saying I understand more."

Bojan smiled, reminding Jan that if Nace was the light in darkness, Bojan was certain a sun, his rays bringing about a new day.

"Thank you for saying that. I am excited to meet her, one day. Whenever destiny decides we are ready."

Jan rolled his eyes, more for the dramatic effect than anything else. That was still extremely cheesy, but it was very on brand for Bojan.

"Sure, lover boy. Now, can we go before the rest of them freeze outside? It is December, y'know?"

Bojan laughed and grabbed his bag. He dramatically pointed to the door.

"To wherever destiny may lead us!"

Jan cracked a smile, unable to keep up the brooding persona.

"To whenever destiny may lead us," he repeated quietly.

Then he stepped over the threshold after Bojan and for the first time in many years he knew everything would be alright. As long as he had his family, soulmate included, by his side, everything would be alright.

No matter the challenges that awaited them.

[neptoons1998]

Swinging Date

A/N:I'm back and I have stuff to post!

Summary: Miles and Margo go on their first kinda date.

Tag Gang: @pantherheart @mal-urameshi @misschivious @somethingcleaverandwhitty

Miles wasn’t sure how but he was able to get Margo to agree to see him. Cashing in the swing date as his uncle Aaron would say. Everything during the night was perfect, Margo had gotten close to him. She wanted to see how he used his ropes in order to swing; she also pointed out what he could improve on his ropes and new techniques when swinging. Miles would be lying if he said that he was actually listening to her, he was trying very hard but smelling the sweet lavender from some hair pouducts she probably use. Made the teen distracted, tonight he was going to be normal to a girl he had a crush on. It can’t be too hard. 

The was until they stop by a hotdog stand. 

“Ah,” Tony said as he whipped up some hotdogs for the teens, “I see you brought your girlfriend, Prowler.”

Instead of correcting the man, Miles quickly placed the money in the man’s hands. Too embarrass to say anything, he was glad that Margo was quick onher feet. 

“Yknow that guy?” Margo asked as the pair finally reached the tallest skyscraper. Miles felt the flusters of butterflies in his stomach with her question. 

“Oh, yeah that’s Tony,” Miles started, “He’s always weird.”

“Totally is,” Margo agreed before taking a bit of hotdog. The pair fell into a quiet silence, all Miles had to do was to shut up and eat his food. 

“I mean-Wouldn’t it be funny if we, uh, actually got together?” Miles voiced out causing Margo to give him a strange look. Shut up, Twisting the ends of one of his braids, “Not that it would ever happen, but just… You know.” Great now she’ll be uncomfortable now. 

“Yeah,” Margo said as she stared out of the city. The pair were pretty high up on Trade Center she  felt  the wind threading  into her hair. Miles perked up to her voice. The teen couldn’t help but stare at her. To anyone else, Margo would’ve had a problem with that, but with Miles. It made her feel like she wasn’t being judged. Just two teens, who happen to have a different persona at night. 

“Y’know, “ Margo sat down on the ground, “I thought for sure you would be mean and scary.”

Miles smirked. He couldn’t say he was shocked by this. That’s the personality he wanted to give off. Miles knew life was unfair and unkind at an earlier age than his peers. The only emotions he had besides being sad were.

Mean and scary.

Miles follows suit sitting down with her, “And now?”

“Now I think you’re a vast nerd,” Margo giggled. Miles gave a light shove on her causing the spider-woman to laugh even harder, “What it’s true plus it’s so cute. You with your toys.”

“They aren’t toys, “ Miles said, “They are action figures.”

Magro counited, “Toys because they came from the same company.”

“Hmm,” Miles bit downhis lip rying to stop himself from smiling at her, “What else do you know, since you know everything?”

Margo’s eyes sparked with happiness, she loved when she could tease someone who can handle her quick wit. Spider-woman came closer to him, Miles started to fear that she could hear his heart beating.

“I know that I like you,” Margo whispered out, “And you’re taking FOR-EVER to make the first move.”

Miles could feel the heat flaming on his cheeks. Making him glad for his dark complexion, “D-do you want to go the movies then?”

Margo couldn’t help but smile at him, “You’re so cute.”

“Cute?” Miles repeated not sure of he liked being called that. The only person who was allowed to was his mom.

“Yes cute,” Margo as she stood up to stand. She pressed a couple of buttons before the portal appeared, “How does seven sound?”

“Works for me, Cieltio,” Miles said as he watched her walk away. When he was sure he was by himself, he pumped his fist, “She likes me.”