#but sometimes brain goes wild and came up with this and pointed and was like. “tell people dum dum”

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

maybe the really bad wack trail is for protection. Not necessarily made out of panic, but rather out of worry. They keep people away - sometimes Icarus needs people kept away, they protect them from Icarus or protect Icarus from them. (Or, attempt to.) Be it after the wings, when they just needed to be alone and yell and grieve and let themself be hurt, the trail protected them from people following - from people *seeing* when Icarus needed people so desperately not to. Or outside of the cave of first breath; Fable pushing too hard and Quixis trying so desperately to protect Icarus from Fable and his intentions - push Fable away and get that point across. (Though, it would seem this particular act only helped to doom them both, in the end.) Or the cathedral, protecting others from Icarus when things were wrong and not right and they weren't going to pay any mind to how far their actions went. Or when Q was talking to them, trying so desperately to warn and protect them from the dangers and *bad* they were about to cause. Or, most recently, after Momboo - a very similar situation to after Unlocked. Pretty much with the same reasoning too. Even with the redstone - it wasn't out of panic or anger, but protection and warning and attempt to get *help* - let someone see it was *bad.*

Maybe it's not the best way of helping or warning or anything, redstone or very bad wack trail, but maybe it's the best Quixis can *give.* Maybe it's not out of panic, but out of Quixis trying so desperately to *help.*

[viennakarma]

Happiness is a butterfly

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: He wants you but he can't have you. But when a fatal crash happens, he realizes maybe he should just take the jump, before it's too late.

Word count: 6.4k

Tags: Female reader, teammate reader, smut, oral, angst, crash, very remorseful nano, cursing, mostly fernando pov, fernando is in denial, age gap (not defined), hurt/comfort, brief mention of Jules Bianchi, happy ending, not beta read

Relationships: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Notes: LISTEN I wish I could control my creative brain but I can’t. *taps mic* Ok, so, who's ready for our little monthly crying session? This actually came to me in a dream after I listened to Happiness is a butterfly, and I ended up incorporating some of the lyrics in the story. I was only contemplating writing this when Anon sent this request asking for angst after a big fight, and I thought it goes perfectly with what I had in mind.

Hope it's to your liking, Anon!

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“Fernando,” You whispered like it wasn’t wrong, like his name was a prayer.

Fernando knew it was wrong, not only because you were a driver and his teammate, but also because you were way too young for him. But whenever you two were like that, you in his arms, it felt so right, so perfect.

Sometimes he wondered to himself if he took advantage of you. Because ever since you first met, you looked at him with big shiny eyes, like you were facing a hero. He knew you were a fan of his, but then again, most of the younger drivers were. But when you two became teammates and got closer, he’d notice how your eyes would find his first thing after entering any room. Whenever you two had chats alone, you’d smile at him in a specific way you didn’t smile at anyone else, blush creeping up your face.

It was so easy to be enchanted by you, by your kindness and willingness. Fernando was drawn to you like a moth to flame, only you didn’t burn him. You were kind to everyone and very talkative, and for a while, Fernando wondered how you managed to get into Formula 1 and keep your spirit intact. Everyone called you a social butterfly. Then he started calling you Mariposa, as a sweet nickname, and he explained to you it meant “Butterfly”.

You two were always together, being teammates, so it didn’t take long for the dynamic shift. Soon, there were longing looks and lingering touches. The way Fernando would always touch the small of your back for a little too long when talking to you, or the way you lean too close whenever talking to him, or the way his eyes stare at your lips every opportunity. Or when you finished a good race and the first thing you’d do was jump on his arms. How you’d always knock three times on his helmet right before going off to the race, he started reciprocating the gesture, since he knew it was probably your thing for good luck or something.

Things went like that for too long, and neither of you were brave enough to take the jump, as you called it.

That until fate put you face to face during summer break. You were in Mallorca with a bunch of your friends for a girls trip in a resort by the sea. You were having brunch when you spotted Fernando at the same time he spotted you, his eyebrows raising in surprise, he muttered something to the people with him that looked like his family members, before coming to you.

“Mariposa!” He hugged you softly.

“Hi! Good to see you!” You chirped, nervously.

Fernando blatantly checked you out. You were wearing simple bikinis and a light beach robe. You were tanned, hair wild and cheeks red like you had come straight out of one of his wet dreams.

“Enjoying summer break?” He asked.

“Yeah, with my friends,” You pointed to where they waited for you at the table, “will you be here for long?”

“No, my family is going back today and I’m leaving tomorrow. We’ve been here for a few days already.”

You waved him goodbye after a quick chat. That night, the weather, the breeze and the empty villa tempted him into calling you. He didn’t want to be that guy so he resisted the urge, instead going for a walk by the beach, alone. As fate would have it, he found you at a small beach party with your friends, dancing and drinking.

Like a magnet, your eyes found his, and you said something to your friends before walking up to him.

“You came to the party?” You asked.

“No, I was just taking a walk and passed by,” He shrugged, and started walking away “I’ll let you go back to your friends.”

“No! No- I mean- Can I walk with you?” You asked and he just nodded.

You two walked away by the shore, the small waves crashing over your feet, and you two chatting about the island and all the adventures you got to go.

“So you went diving, surfing? Everything?”

“I have always been kind of a scaredy-cat, especially as a kid. My dad used to tell me ‘you just have to breathe ten seconds of courage and take the jump’. Funnily, racing was the only thing I wasn’t afraid of. I’m in control, me and the car are one.”

He listened to you for a long while, his eyes focused on the way the wind picked up your hair, your dress flowy in the wind and your bikini top peeking from under the neckline. You were looking delicious, he had to admit. You always were, but now, after spending the whole day under the sun, your skin was golden and glowy, and he imagined himself biting into your shoulder and kissing up your neck.

When you two finally stopped by the villa, Fernando looked at you attentively.

“Won’t your boyfriend be worried about you?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you shook your head knowing that he was just trying to find out if you had someone.

“You don’t? Well you’re pretty and nice, I thought you’d have one by now.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, blushing which made him chuckle.

“You know you are stunning.”

“Well, I know I’m pretty, I just didn’t know if I am pretty enough for you.”

“Mariposa,” his voice had a tone of reprimand, but his eyes falling down your cleavage and body, betrayed him.

“Just one kiss?” You asked, pouting, “and we don’t even have to talk about it after.”

“I can’t.”

“But you want to?” You asked, full of hope.

“We should not,” he whispered as you closed the distance to his face, your face barely centimeters from his, lips dangerously close.

“We could just,” you tried to come up with an argument, but your lips brushed his beard and you lost all train of thought.

“If we start, I will not be able to stop,” he mumbled, trying so hard to refrain himself.

“Then don’t.”

That’s all it took for him to press his fingers to your nape, pulling you in and smashing his lips to yours. And it felt divine, like nothing he had ever done before, you were sweet and the harder he kissed you, the more pliant you got in his arms, sighing and moaning softly as his hand found home over your ass, pressing firmly until your whole body was flush to his.

“Fernando,” you whispered, his lips going down your neck, his beard making goosebumps raise on your skin.

Then you walked inside without really breaking apart. Fernando pulled your dress from your body, staring at you in your bikini.

“This is tiny,” he said, hooking a finger by the string on the sides of the bottom.

You smiled some way you hoped was seductive, taking a step back so he could see you fully as you pulled the strings, letting your bikini top fall to the floor, followed by the bottom soon after.

Soon he had you bent over the back of the sofa, holding onto the seat for dear life as he knelt behind you and ate you out, fingering you ass all the way to a mind blowing orgasm. Then he fucked you senseless, whispering dirty nothings into your ear, switching English and Spanish back and forth. He slapped your ass until it was stinging, whispering about your “tempting tiny bikini”. He had you groaning, drooling against the sofa until your toes curled and you came around his cock.

“Nano… Fuck-” you moaned feeling him cumming too.

He cuddled you, both of you falling on the sofa, spent.

“Why were we holding back? We should’ve done this a long time ago.” You said, lips brushing his beard.

He didn’t answer because he knew why he had been holding back. You were young, sometimes naive, and his teammate. It was double the trouble. But he didn’t allow himself to wallow in those feelings, rather focusing on the feel of you naked in his arms.

“You know what we should do? Stay here a bit longer,” you rose from his chest, eyes glinting mischievously, “we should extend our stay here.”

“Just you and me?”

“Just us,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his chest.

And so you stayed with him. You sent your friends to Ibiza as a gift and Fernando extended his rent on the villa. You’d spend the day lazing around, cooking together and going to the beach or the pool. You played tennis and trained together in the small gym. You made love on every possible surface of that whole villa, which left you spent and satisfied every single day.

And you talked. Fernando considered you to be one of the closests people to him on the grid, but still, he learned so much more about you, about your mental strength to rise and thrive in motorsport. And you were clever and witty, joking around him, talking about life and all your dreams. And he could hear you for hours on end, never getting tired of you.

Unfortunately, your little time of uninterrupted happiness had to end. With a heavy heart, you kissed him goodbye, both of you aware that things would never go back to the way they were before summer break. But you two were also too scared to name anything, or to ruin whatever this dynamic was.

But you left Mallorca admitting to yourself that you had fallen in love even deeper.

You tried to keep texting and calling him, but you usually were in very different time zones so the texts were few and far between. Fernando even sent you a sweet text on your birthday a few of days later.

There was a gala by the end of summer break almost three weeks later, hosted by the FIA, it was mostly for mingling, and most drivers usually went, especially those trying to keep an image to the big shots.

Fernando went there because he rarely missed it. And maybe because he knew you would be there too, and maybe he could leave with you.

You arrived a little late, stunning in a green gown, with a tight corset and a big slit showing your leg. Fernando watched as you made rounds, greeting people and old men, other drivers that were your friends and their wives or girlfriends. You eventually made your way to Fernando, and he proudly waited for you when you walked up to him, the most beautiful smile adorning your lips and eyes shining just as much as the diamonds on your earrings.

“You’re beautiful, mariposa.” Fernando whispered.

“Thank you, you look handsome too. Love me a man in a tuxedo.” You whispered back conspiratorially, winking at him.

You two chatted for a little, watching the people around. You told him everything you did during summer break after you two parted ways in Mallorca. When the slow music started, you watched the couples getting to the dancefloor.

“Nano, can we dance?” You asked. He just stiffened, face unsure.

“Hm, I’m not sure.”

“Nobody will mind, we’re teammates,” you shrugged.

“I don’t think it's a good idea,” He looked at your face, still staring longingly at the couples slow dancing on the dancefloor. Yearning for something he couldn’t give you.

“Mhm…” You hummed, disappointed. You stood there silent for a couple more minutes, watching the dancefloor. Fernando imagined dancing with you, having you in his arms, listening to your voice, your hand on his shoulder. You cleared your throat for a second, “I’m gonna get a drink.”

You didn’t wait for his response, leaving with long strides to the bar, the opposite side. Fernando’s eyes never left you, he watched as you got a drink and sipped a little, sitting on a bar stool. Some people stopped to greet you quickly. At some point, Charles Leclerc stopped you, whispering something that made you giggle a little, then he offered you a hand, probably inviting you to dance, but you refused politely. You grabbed a second drink and turned on the stool, nursing your drink and still watching the party go on.

You wanted to dance with him, not anyone else.

Eventually, the party died down, and Fernando got close to you again, whispering in your ear to meet him in the most discreet parking lot and then he left. You watched his back as he made his way out. Downing whatever was left of your drink, you stood up, making a quick route to say goodbye to everyone.

Finally, you met Fernando in the car. He had driven himself in his expensive car.

As he drove away in the middle of the night, he put his hand on your thigh under the slit of the dress. You honestly wanted to jump him, to make him stop the car anywhere and just get into it.

Quietly making into his hotel room, you kicked your high heels off and kissed him, not giving him any second before deepening the kiss, pressing your body to his.

“Wait,” he managed to croak out. You took a step back. He went into his luggage and picked a small box, handing it to you, “I know your birthday was two weeks ago, but since I didn’t see you- well, happy birthday.”

“You didn’t have to…” you whispered, opening the box to a beautiful and delicate necklace with a gold butterfly pendant with small diamonds all around the wings, “it’s so beautiful, Fernando.”

“Not as much as you, Mariposa.” He whispered back, taking the necklace, placing you in front of the full body mirror and standing behind you and locking the necklace around your neck.

“Thank you”

He kissed your neck, running a hand down your arm, then kissing your shoulders while pulling the hair pins out of your hair, letting your hair free. He kept leaving hot wet kisses on your skin, calling you “hermosa” and “my mariposa” all while unzipping your dress slowly. You let him do whatever, his hands pushing the corset out until the fabric pooled around your ankles kicking it away too, and you stood in nothing but panties and the necklace.

You gasped, staring at your reflection on the mirror and him behind you, his rough fingertips running over your side, getting to your front and cupping your boobs. You felt soft as his fingers pinched your nipples, making you moan softly.

“You ready to take me?” He asked against your ears.

“Please, Nano,” you moaned his name the way you only said it when you were alone and getting intimate.

“Foot there,” he pointed to a chair. You did as he said, one leg up so he could have better access to your panties.

He pressed his chest to your back, fingers sliding inside your panties to feel your obscene wetness dampening the fabric. His fingers slid right over your clit, spreading your juices all around, before diving into your cunt. You moaned, head lolling back against his shoulder, as he pleasured you nonstop. You had been turned on even since the gala, and the ride to the hotel had been pure torture not being touched. So it didn’t take much for him to build you up, his thumb brushing your clit. Your moaning got louder and with the way he could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers, he knew you were close.

And so he stopped, making you whine. He just chuckled.

“Nano! I was so close!” You pouted.

“Needy girl, get on the bed,” he pointed again, like an order, “you’re cumming around my cock first.”

You sat on the bed slowly, still reeling from almost orgasming. You watched as Fernando started undressing in front of you, so you just ran both hands from his chest down to his thighs, fingers barely touching the straining erection in his pants.

“Don’t get greedy now. Wait.”

With his words, you stopped touching him, leaning back so you could watch him undress. When he finally got rid of all clothing, he leaned, kissing your stomach and up your boobs, mouthing your nipples as his hands pulled your panties, letting you lay down on the edge of the bed. You held his head against your nipples, his eyes finding yours through his eyelashes. 

When you were both fully naked, he just held your legs open and sank into your cunt, making you moan loud as you back rose up from the bed.

“Nano- oh, fuck!” You moaned, and pulled by his neck to kiss you.

He kissed you back slowly, patiently contrasting your desperate hands on his shoulder, crawling up his neck, fingertips sinking into his soft hair, as he fucked you slowly, pressing you deliciously into the bed, one hand firmly on the bedrest and the other holding your neck, pressing until you were cumming, his lips sucking hickeys into your skin.

You two were cuddling quietly when you decided to say what you’ve been thinking about ever since Mallorca.

“We should go on a date, Fernando. Take the next step, I really like what we have.”

You could feel him stiffening against you, and you closed your eyes, afraid of what his response would be.

“We can’t, mariposa. You are way younger than me,” He said somberly, “and we’re teammates. This would be too messy for the both of us, but especially for you, who is just starting your career.”

“I don’t mind if that’s the price I need to pay to have you.”

“We can’t take this kind of risk for something we don’t even know it’s real.”

That squeezed your heart and made you angry with his denial.

“Fernando, this is real- You know that!”

“Calling a cab to take you to your hotel,” he said standing up and picking his phone. His tone was cold, detached from you, like you were just some toy for him to have fun with, and now you served your purpose.

“Don’t be like that, Fernando. This is more than just sex,” you got up, covering yourself with the bedsheet because it felt too vulnerable having this conversation naked.

“We can’t be anymore than that. You’re too young to understand.” He said not looking at you.

There was a lump on your throat rapidly forming. He knew you hated when people treated you like you were dumb because you were young.

“Please let us just talk about it-”

“There’s nothing to talk about. This means nothing! Nada!” He exclaimed.

“You don’t mean that. Don’t be a jerk.” Your voice was already wavering.

You stared at his back as he turned around, going to the opposite side of the room, your tears started falling down.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He finally said but still didn’t look at you.

“I’m already hurt,” you said, picking up your panties from the floor hastily putting them on, realizing how Fernando had helped you with your dress, so you just picked up one of his sweaters and dressed, “do you want me or do you not?”

“I don’t want you.”

“You’re missing good things in life because of fear. Just take the fucking jump, Fernando.”

The next thing he heard was the slamming door behind you.

When he walked back, he noticed you had left the butterfly necklace on the table. Holding the necklace against the palm of his hand, he wondered if he did the right thing or just lost the best thing in his life.

You didn’t text or called him. And he didn’t either. Eventually he texted you, to tell you had “forgot” the necklace, to test the waters.

“You’re the only one who calls me mariposa. This necklace has no meaning to me if you’re not in my life.”

His mind would often wander back to Mallorca, to those few days you and him lived in paradise. Sleeping late, waking up even later, then making love lazily under the sun, sunbathing naked by the pool, and cooking together, training together. There was never silence with you, since you were always talking or singing or playing loud music.

And he missed it. As the weeks progressed and the more race weeks came, you didn’t try to talk to him about the two of you. You were still polite and talkative, usually filling his silence with stories, talks about the track and strategies. You still knocked on his helmet three times before every race, probably a pre race ritual by now.

He missed you. He missed not only the feel of your cunt around his cock, but he missed your loudness, and your laugh. He missed the light in your eyes that was slowly darkening each passing day. Like you were losing hope he would come around and change his mind.

The last race of the season, he was a little late from a meeting, so you were already getting in the car when he came out. Your visor was up, so you just looked at him, and knocked your own helmet three times as a sign to him, who did the same gesture back to you.

By around ⅔ of the race, there was an accident and the red flag was called.

It took maybe two or three minutes until all cars stopped on the pitlane, lined up under the red flag. As Fernando climbed out of the car, he turned around, looking for you, removing his helmet, guard and balaclava, he went inside the garage.

“Where’s Mariposa?” He asked, to one in particular. But then his eyes landed in Martha, your PT, and her eyes were watery as she pointed to the screen.

A sinking feeling expanded in his stomach as he saw your car, that now looked like an unrecognizable wreckage. He dropped his helmet, covering his mouth with a hand. The marshals were all around your burning car, various people with fire extinguishers, trying to lower the fire enough to pull you out.

“Has she responded yet? Did she say anything?” Fernando asked without removing his eyes from the screen.

“No,” Somebody said, somberly.

“She’ll be fine,” Fernando assured, probably trying to convince himself, and his rapid heartbeat. He had seen and had been in many ugly crashes, and in the end, the driver had come out unscathed. He was sure you could manage, you were very strong and stubborn.

When the fire died down enough, a couple of marshals pulled you out, and Fernando’s heart felt like it was stopping as they pulled you out unconscious. The marshals made a small shield around you and carried you to the ambulance.

Looking around, Fernando finally noticed how everyone was horrified by the crash, and all the drivers around seemed pale and worried. It took a couple of minutes for the FIA to decide to keep the race going, setting it to restart 15 minutes later.

“Fernando,” someone called, and he turned to be faced with George and Alex, who were your closest friends on the grid, “any news on her?”

“Not yet,” he paused, trying really hard to not freak out, “Mike went to the hospital with her.”

“That was ugly,” Alex muttered gloomily.

The tree of them stayed silent, eyes on the screen where a replay of your crash. It was probably a mechanical issue, since you were in high speed when the tyres locked, and you visibly couldn’t brake, going straight into the barriers, full force.

“Will-” George started but his voice failed a little and he cleared his throat, “will she be ok?”

“Yes. She’ll be ok.” Fernando said, not only to calm down the two young drivers, but also to convince himself, since no other option was acceptable in his mind.

You had to be fine.

“Fuck it,” Fernando went inside his room, changing quickly into more casual clothes, as he came out, the team was confused, “I’m sorry, but I have to check on her. Martha, come with me.”

He left knowing he would face terrible consequences with the FIA, not only for not going back to the race, but also because he avoided the press to go to the hospital you were taken to.

On the car, on the way to the hospital they had taken you to, his phone rang, and it was Mike, who had been the first one to go with you to the hospital. Fernando supposed Mike would want to tear him a new one for abandoning the race.

But no. Mike wanted to update him, telling you had a concussion that had knocked you out on the spot, inside the car. They were going to check if you had any more injuries with scans and tests.

By the time he got to the hospital, he met with Mike, and with Vince, your friend and manager, they said you were still unconscious and going through all the examinations necessary. The doctors wanted to see if you didn’t have any internal bleeding or fractures. They kept you unconscious during urgent care, hoping you would wake up after the tests and after the meds wear off.

Fernando sat in the waiting room unmoved, his fear eating him inside every minute you had not woken up yet. Martha was tearful the whole time, while Vince was making calls right and left, he got in touch with your family and closest friends. Alberto showed up around an hour after to pick Fernando up to go back to the hotel.

“I am not leaving,” Fernando said.

“Fernando, there’s nothing you can do. Vince said she will probably wake up late morning tomorrow, we can just-”

“I will not leave.”

Fernando’s words left no space for debate. He didn’t have any commitments for the next week. So he stayed after everyone left, waiting for news on his mariposa. He could barely drink the coffee because his stomach was churning with the lack of news. In the middle of the night, finally they finished the tests and they put you in a room.

After bribing his way inside, Fernando was able to get into your room and see you. You were sleeping, looking peaceful in that hospital bed, using an oxygen inhaler.

“Why does she need oxygen?” He asked the nurse checking on you.

“Here it says she inhaled some smoke before the fire was put off,” the woman explained, reading your chart.

“She will be alright, isn’t she?” He asked, his tone audibly worried. The nurse sighed, as if she didn’t want to say her next words.

“We can’t tell just yet. For now the scans and tests show she is fine, but we can only tell for sure after she wakes up.”

She left Fernando behind with dread consuming his every thought.

As he stared at your unconscious body on the bed, he couldn’t help but remember when you slept with him in Mallorca. Your naked body tangled with the blankets, hair splayed on the pillows and tanned limbs looking for him even in sleep, hugging him and keeping him in bed with you longer than he usually did. He sat by the bed, hand holding yours, running his thumb over your cold knuckles.

The remorse was eating him alive. You had to be alright. You had to wake up soon and laugh at his worried face, joking that you’re tougher than you look. Giving him those eyes. He couldn’t bear not looking at your eyes again, that would break him apart one last time.

Because you could have been his the whole time. He could have slept with you in his arms more often than not. He could have been stealing your kisses in dark corners and going out for dinner after late team meetings. He could’ve received random cute selfies from you throughout his day. He could’ve whispered “I love you” into your skin every night. Only he didn’t.

His last words to you were “I don’t want you” and he couldn’t take it if those were his last words for you ever. He never let himself admit to you that he had fallen. That he was absolutely crazy for you, that he loved you even before you ever kissed him.

He was about to spiral in guilt when your sister arrived in the early morning. She visibly didn’t expect Fernando there, holding her sister’s hand.

“I just talked to the doctor,” Mila, your sister, muttered.

“He said the meds will wear off later today,” Fernando said.

“You can go rest now, come back later.” Mila offered. Didn’t sound like she wanted him specifically out, but more out of worry.

“No, I- I want to stay until she’s awake.”

“Fernando, she wouldn’t want you to wear yourself thin because of her,” The way Mila said the words, it left a little unsaid.

“You know?” Was all he asked. Do you know about us? What do you think? What did she say about me? But Mila just nodded, she didn’t look judgemental.

“I know.”

He was about to leave to at least shower and eat something before coming back. As Mila got closer to your sleeping form, Fernando stood back and your sister touched your hand. Then she knocked three times on the bedside table. Fernando frowned.

“Why did you do that?” He asked Mila.

“When we were kids in karting, Dad used to do that to our helmets before races, each knock means a word. ‘I love you’, and with time it just became a silly habit of hers,” Mila explained.

Fernando’s heart twisted inside, eyes watering.

Knock. I. Knock. Love. Knock. You.

You had been doing the knocks to him for months, even before the summer break.

He left the room without a word, breathing in and out to stop the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He wasn’t an emotional man by any means, but the knowledge that you have been loving him for so long, broke his heart.

After going back to the hotel to shower and eat, he went knocking in Alberto’s room when he noticed he didn’t have his phone anywhere in sight ever since before the race had started. Like predicted, Alberto had his phone.

In his suite, Fernando unlocked his phone to hundreds of notifications, a lot from other drivers, asking for news about you, since not the Formula 1 or the FIA had released any notes about your condition. After shooting a few answers to the other drivers, he finally saw one notification, saying you had left him a voicemail the day before. From the time stamp, it was a bit before the race.

Wide eyed, he pressed play on the voicemail.

“Hey, I’m about to go out in the car, but I guess I just breathed 10 seconds of courage, well not enough to wait to say it to you face to face,” you giggled nervously, “but what I mean to say is, I love you. Probably not what you wanted to hear, but I do love you. And I know you don’t feel the same, but maybe you could… I don’t know, maybe you could take a chance on me. I know your reservations about the world, but… We should take the jump. I can make you really happy if you let me. And maybe one day you will grow to love me- god, that last part was pathetic- Shit- How do I delete this?” There was noise as if you were struggling with the phone and then someone called your name far away, “one second!” you told the person, “shit, I gotta go. Just please, can we talk over the winter break? I guess what I mean is that-” Then the beep ended the message, cutting your voicemail off.

He pressed play a couple more times, until he could breathe again, your voice offering some sense of peace to his mind. You were willing to have him, even after he kicked you out of his hotel room, even after he pretty much ignored your history all these past few months.

It would be alright. You would wake up, he would tell you he loved you and he was so sorry that he had wasted so much time being afraid of what people may think or how the world might treat you.

Only you didn’t.

You didn’t wake up after the meds wore off. And Fernando, your sister, Vince and Martha were all shocked when the doctor said it was possible you were in a coma.

“Everything seems ok, but she’s not waking up. Sometimes the body takes a little more time to recover from traumas like this.”

“When-” Mila’s voice failed, tears streaming down her face, “when do you believe she could wake up?”

“We can’t pinpoint that with precision,” the doctor answered.

“Get all the tests redone,” Fernando said suddenly, “maybe you missed something.”

“But-”

“I’ll pay for it.”

That’s all he said before leaving and entering a toilet by the waiting room. His chest heaving, he watered his shaky hands to try and calm down. You didn’t wake up. They weren’t sure when or if you would wake up. And, fuck, Fernando had seen that before with Jules, who was comatose for months before passing away.

He remembered the blinding pain of losing a friend and he couldn’t bear losing the love of his life too. Fernando stayed in the stall for a while, trying to calm down his terrified thoughts.

When he went back, your sister was still crying, being comforted by Vince.

“Fernando, can you stay here while we call my family?” Mila asked, and Fernando nodded.

As they left, Fernando sat by your side, holding your hand. With his thumb running over the back of your hand, he looked at your face.

“I don’t want you to go,” he whispered, “I need you here. There’s still so much for you here. Please, I just need you to fight a little more, yes? You have always been stubborn.”

He waited for some kind of miracle, for you to wake up, for your eyes to find him like they always did even in a crowded room.

“When you recover, we will go out, on a proper date, and we’ll dance, like you wanted to. We’ll hold hands and I’ll take you to meet my family.” He kissed the back of your hand softly, “Wake up, Mariposa.”

He stayed there the whole day, letting your sister go find a hotel to stay and get some sleep. Then at night, she came back, assuring Fernando that he should go to sleep too, she knew he was more than a day and a half awake. Back at the hotel, he showered the smell of hospital off and made some calls to take care of his businesses. He texted George and Alex to update them. He also talked to his family, giving updates on his teammate, but not prolonging the chat as to not risk breaking down because of the state his mariposa was in the hospital. Then he went to sleep after a quick dinner, exhausted enough to sleep fairly quickly.

He managed to sleep the whole night, going in and off dreams of you, his brain probably too worried to really forget, even unconscious. He woke up at dawn, going back to the hospital so your sister could leave to rest.

Fernando checked on you first thing, and you were still unconscious, but your sister was on the phone talking to your parents, so he just left to give her a little privacy. He went into the cafeteria and drank a small cup of coffee.

As he went back, he noticed how agitated Vince looked on the phone right outside your room.

“Vince, what happened?” He asked, dreading that the worse had happened in the few minutes he was away.

“She woke up!”

Fernando’s eyes welled up with tears as he opened the door.

“-No, no, don’t talk just yet. Let’s wait for the doctor,” you sister said to you, then both of them looked at Fernando, who looked rooted to the spot, “Fernando! She woke up!” Your sister said through happy tears.

Your sister hugged again, kissing your head, whispering how she loved you all while Fernando stood there, trying to will his limbs to move. Then the doctor and a nurse came, asking you all to leave so he could examine you.

He waited outside as your sister went on the phone with the good news to your family again. Then the doctor came out, announcing you were looking good, and apparently no sequelae but they would still keep you for a few more days for close examination and to make sure everything was alright.

Barely registering anything, Fernando just entered your room, and you smiled at him. You smiled. Your eyes shining bright like you had just woken up from a simple nap.

And then he cried. Fully cried for the first time since the accident, like the relief of seeing you alive and well broke the dam of the tears he had been trying to hold back. And he could breathe again. Covering his face with both hands, he tried to get himself in control but he only stopped when he heard you.

“Na-” your voice was hoarse, “-no.”

“No, don’t talk yet. The nurse said your throat might feel a little dry.” He managed to subside his tears enough to talk.

When he sat down on the chair, you lifted your hand to hold his face. You were still a bit weak, but you wiped his face of the tears. He held your hand with both of his, kissing your palm.

“You gave us quite the scare,” Fernando said with a small smile. You smiled back, looking sleepy, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You shook your head minimally but your eyes had that mischievous glint, like you were thinking of a silly joke about how tough you actually are.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for making you think I don’t love you, when I really do. I have for the longest time. We’ll make it work, however you want,” he just dumped the words, not wanting to lose another precious second not being yours, “soy tuyo, Mariposa. Te amo, mi amor.”

You just held his hand, squeezing it slowly three times. I. Love. You.

[findafight]

On the one-sided harringrove post- I feel it becomes infinitely funnier with bi steve. He likes men, just not Billy. Never Billy.

Oh yeah. When Billy fiiiirst comes to school with his music blaring Steve is head over heels for Nancy, so he might register that the guy with the Camaro and loud music has a good ass, but then billy opens his mouth and Steve is like "oh, no ass can make up for that personality." And continues with his life.

Just. Okay I like to project just a liiiiittle on Steve with him just. Not realizing his attraction to men isn't a straight thing. Like. Of course all straight people feel that way, you just kinda ignore it or don't do anything about it. So Steve is half way between being comfortable in his sexuality and being closeted to himself because buddy used Hawkeye Pierce as the blueprint of straightness.

So Billy is out here, wallowing in self hatred and internalized homophobia, hating Steve and wanting Steve and hating that he wants Steve and wishing Steve would pay attention to him enough for a hate fuck he can cry about later, and it's all very angsty. All the while Steve is just actually completely fine with thinking a dude is hot he's just got standards that include "not racist" "doesn't try to beat up kids" "hasn't made me blackout from head trauma"

Wait. Oh no. I feel an au coming on. Shit. Au where post S2 Robin hears piano coming from the band room after hours and is her curious self going "I must see who is this mysterious genius" and it's Steve. They get to talking and hanging out and all of a sudden Robin thinks they are actually good friends. Best friends. Somehow.

Cue them going to a band party together. Someone spikes their drinks with waayyyy more than they were expecting so they are blasted. Robin has to go pee but does not want to go alone so she drags Steve into the bathroom with her and makes him face away. He's like haha Woah you really had to pee. And she goes shut upppp and washes her hands but sits across from him. Steve smiles at her and gives her his speech about how amazing she is and how glad he is to be her friend (it is like March '85 so he is still not ready to get back out into dating yet). Robin tells him about Tammy. They sing. Someone slams the door open and kicks them out of the bathroom because there's a fuckin line.

They lay on the grass outside and look at the sky. Steve like. Caaaaasually mentions once having thought he was gonna marry Tommy when he was six and then realizing you just didn't do anything about those feelings and Robin's gotta shoot up going WHAT!! WHAAAT? Because it sounded like Steve coming out to her? Right after?? She came out to him??

And Steve is like yeah. Like you don't really have to? Easier to ignore it and flirt with girls who I like or think are hot. And poor Robin's brain is melting she's like please Steve I'm really drunk are you telling me you sometimes want to kiss boys? And he's like yes, obviously, everyone does. Just like everyone also wants to sometimes kiss girls. Except lesbians I guess who only want to kiss girls? And gay guys only want to kiss guy? Yeah that makes sense and straight people don't care but go for the opposite ya know?

Robin is like NO!! And calms down some and says "okay I'm telling you this because you are my friend and you just told me almost the same thing. Steve. I like girls and only like girls. That not a straight thing"

"yeah. You've said."

"but I am ninety nine percent positive that just because you like girls doesn't mean you're straight because you also like boys."

"what"

"yeah dude, I do not think this is a heterosexual experience you're describing. I'm not an expert but. Yeah.

"oh. Huh."

"yep."

"I definitely thought it was."

"your brain is so weird I'm still kind of obsessed with you."

"haha. Honestly I'm kind of obsessed with you. This is wild."

"well. At least I know you're stuck with me."

"ohhh nooooo whatever will I do with my best friend always around..."

ANYWAYS THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS is not in fact the stobin. It's actually that

Sometime probably in may, when Steve is ready to be on the dating scene again, he gets with Eddie. Robin is happy for him but also so mad because he went from "probably shouldn't act gay even tho everyone feels a little gay sometimes" to "hey Robin what would you say if I said I got a boyfriend?" In less than two months. How does he have straight AND gay game. That's not fair.

Steddie getting together is a non event. Eddie is still like ewww sports and yet somehow he made out with Steve Harrington and the next day Steve asked if he wanted to get milkshakes and throw rocks into the quarry to see the splashes. Eddie must restrain himself from thinking it's a date because he knows it's not but it'd also be the perfect date (Eddie is a simple man)

At the end of the night steve kissed his cheek and says "I had a really great time..."

Eddie just blurted "hey do you want to be my boyfriend?"

To which Steve perks up like "yes! I'd like that!"

And Eddie didn't actually think he'd get that far so he was like "neat!! See you tomorrow!" before slamming the door in Steve's face.

So they're dating and Eddie disparages sports but Steve is like haha aw you don't like watching me play? Which is sooo mean to Eddie because obviously?? He likes?? Watching his boyfriend??? Run around in tiny shorts and sometimes shirtless?? He has to reevaluate some things he supposes.

All while this is happening Billy is still on his Greatest Homoerotic Rivals shtick with Steve. Eddie notices and is like to dude...what is with Billy? And Steve just sighs. Says Billy is weird and obsessed with him and glares all the time. It's a whole thing. Billy is pissed because what is Steve, his epic rival, doing hanging around some random band geek, his sister's bitchass friends, and maybe the local dealer.

Alright. Grad happens. Yay Steve! Poor Eddie. They go to some party , hang out with people, sell some drugs, etc. Billy is unfortunately also at this party, and is like. Lazer eyes boring into Steve's back. Very annoying. At some point, he sees Steve slip away and is like this is my chance so he follows him.

Howmever he comes across Steve, his epic and totally heterosexual rival, making out with Eddie the freak Munson.

And listen this is a scary thing to be caught inna town like Hawkins, but that's not the point of this post.

So Billy goes "what the hell?"

They turn around. Billy is still spluttering.

"what are you-why would you-- with him?!" He says.

Steve raises his eyebrows, alllll cocky confidence. He smirks a bit. Drawls. "Well, yeah. I like cock, billy. Just not yours."

Because the point of this post is that Steve is a bitch.

Thank you.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Everytime I remember RQG Oscar is not a D&Dads Taylor Swift situation but he truly is an alternative universe version of real historical Oscar Wilde I have to pause for a second.

And while this is true for all historical NPCs, the fact Oscar is basically a party member at this point makes him in particular weirder for me (and Eisnten at s3 but I grew up with Einsten look alikes and fictionalized Eistens in tbh a weird amount of cartoons and educational math games my school sometimes tried to make us play on their one PC).

And that came up again twice in like 10 minutes I literally was listening to RQG and uploading some PDFs that I got recently in my phone (by totally legal means not even a bit related to the guys with parrots and skull crossed flags and ships) into my kindle and it got into An Ideal Husband and my brain just broke. Literally broke. And when I was better from the "oh yeah that's a thing" and reopened the podcast, Alex goes "Wilde is wearing the fur coat of the famous pictures of irl Oscar Wilde" and I just had to control myself to not laugh out loud like a weirdo.

[tobiasdrake]

Okay. It's. Uh. It's begun.

Okay, I know this looks bad for the killer being Zilch but we still don't understand fully how his powers work. His powers control mammals. He might be able to control people. In which case, he could theoretically control someone to kill him and then keep right on trucking in their body, maybe? Or he could have been controlling this person we knew to be Zilch all along.

This is wild-ass speculation and absolutely should not be the leading theory but I want to put it out there for why Zilch is only 90% absolved of suspicion here, even though we're staring at his smoldering, stabbed corpse.

His face burned off while we were breaking down the door but we saw his face earlier so we can confirm it's Zilch.

More concerning, however, is the fact that his adorable puppy-dog hat is missing. Melami never told us how much of a person's clothes she needs to channel their spirit. There could be something to that.

1 - If Melami were the killer, there's no reason she'd take his hat and channel his spirit, is there? 2 - If Zilch were the killer, maybe he controlled Melami and made her take his hat, so that after he died he could possess her? Or something? 3 - If neither Zilch nor Melami is the killer, then Melami may have taken his hat so that she could channel him and find out who the killer is. She would have had to get to him before the body was set on fire, however. 4 - Or his hat just fell off at some point.

...wait a second, why is knife stabbed through the sheet?

It's already weird that he's in the infirmary. Yuma couldn't enter the infirmary on account of the locked door, but now Zilch is both in here despite having a room of his own, lying in the bed, and was stabbed through the sheet while he was, I guess, peacefully resting? Then set on fire for good measure?

If you were going to kill him by stabbing, why would you then set him on fire? And if you killed him by stabbing, why would he look like he was resting peacefully? Getting stabbed in the chest would wake a guy up and cause a struggle, at least for a bit.

Mm. Nothing about this seems right. My gut's saying this body was already non-responsive when he was stabbed. The fire's to disguise either a different cause of death or, if he did it and he was controlling/possessing Melami, the lack of one.

(Also in the realm of wild-ass speculation, we should include the possibility of a spirit possessing Melami as the killer. She may have been channeling someone this whole time and we wouldn't know. Extremely unlikely, but should be on the suspect list.)

Fire extinguisher is suspicious. We used this to stop the fire before it could spread to the rest of the train. But it was pulled from its compartment and left for us to find, so maybe someone wanted us to do that.

It might not be meaningful but it feels indicative of something.

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. BESTIE, NO!!!

...

Also. There goes my other prime suspect. Alright, Zilch is still on the suspect list because of his animal-controlling but Melami doesn't even have a hypothetical way she could come back from this.

Alright, so this may explain the fire extinguisher. We only put out Zilch. The killer may have burned both bodies (plus whatever more there are), putting out all but Zilch's and then leaving the extinguisher for us when we woke up.

Why not kill Yuma, though? He was defenseless in the bathroom. Unless they didn't know he was in the bathroom. They might not have checked. In which case, they didn't leave the extinguisher to be used but instead just dumped it, intending for Zilch's fire to burn the train down?

This would imply that Zilch was the last to be burned.

Mm. I don't know, though. Not putting all of my eggs in that basket.

Obvious firestarters. You could also brain someone with it.

Obviously where the firestarters came from. T_T And my coffee that my bestie made for me. I hate you sometimes, Kodaka.

And now someone's fucking with the train. Brilliant. That or the train's fucking with itself. It's fully automated so it's entirely possible that someone could derail us remotely from hundreds of miles away and we wouldn't know it. Especially if Amaterasu is at fault.

Tunnel's a good place to derail us, if that's the plan here. Easy to clean up.

*deep breath* Alright. Time to go see if anyone else is alive. Process of elimination could reveal the killer though, somehow, I doubt it's going to be that easy.

[levil0vesyou]

i'm so sorry for that monday production story, i hope it doesn't affect you as much now. adults really do say some wild shit and don't even realize how damaging it can be. my dad would point out all the broken and abandoned houses and dirty cars on the street and say they were mine, and i always replied they were his, and we'd start bickering, and then laughed it off, and i only thought about it recently and have no idea why he would say such a thing? i think it subconsciously got ingrained that i'm not good with housekeeping and generally don't deserve nice things (sorry for trauma dumping). just, adults are so weird with their kids and don't realize the damage

(ask is in reference to my tags on this post)

(there's more trauma in this reply btw, fair warning. under a cut bc long)

Thank you, it actually means a lot!! I wasn't even sure if anyone was gonna read it lmao, tag rambling sometimes feels like just straight up screaming into the void lmao

Hate to disappoint, but its effect on me has been increasing for years 😎👍 It's so weird how you can have shit like that lie dormant for ages until you one day go "hang on" and then it starts eating away at you

It also goes really well with her "Niemand wünscht sich ein behindertes Kind" (lit. "Nobody wishes for a disabled child" but can more accurately be translated as "Nobody wants a disabled child") which she only said once and not even about me but basically one shotted me and has been squatting in my brain evilly ever since. Top ten fucked up sentences to completely devastate your disabled child, number 4 will surprise you 😎👍

(I actually did bring that one to her attention years later but she dismissed any effects it had on me on grounds she didn't mean it that way 😎👍)

Yea, that's some bullshit tbh. Like, that's not the kinda shit a father should be saying to their kid, like bro this is an impressionable young mind in your care who trusts you blindly, not your fucking sibling or highschool bestie you can shoot the shit with. Parents give like zero shits what they say to their children, it's wild. And very concerning sometimes

And it would probably be possible to heal that shit more easily if they actually recognised that, maybe even apologised, but at least in my mum's case, she categorically refuses to acknowledge any instances of one of her children being negatively impacted by something she's said or done if we're the ones bringing it to her attention.

Like, I think she recognises some of the stuff she's said and done as not great but any attempt to amend that list will result in her "oh so I'm a horrible person and at fault for all your problems and you refuse to take responsibility hmmm?" spiel 😔

For the record tho I wanna say I don't think she's a horrible mum and especially when it came to material well being/physical health/etc she really did try her best and I could've had it much worse. She was an underpaid nurse raising three children (two of them disabled) mostly on her own while also caring for different sick elderly relatives over the years.

It's a miracle she made it work and while I do think some stuff was unnecessary, some of especially the later stuff that was more affective (not like hitting or anything, the only parental figure who ever hit me was my grandma who did it exactly one time tho even that took many years to process which is how I know "it's okay to hit your kids" ppl are full of shit) which I can far more easily understand & forgive. That said, if your own child says "[thing you did or said] had a negative impact on me" maybe believe them lmao

...yea this is a bit too long huh

[mymelodyisme]

If I understood it right you have sdv oc's? I'd love to know a few fun facts abt them🤗

Hiiiiii :) I apologize now for the length this post will take upon your screen.

I really only have Mys and the few people in her backstory 😭 (I can come up with some fun stuff for them now though :D)

Mys is mostly a self insert because I’ve gotten really into making her one but here’s a few fun facts about her!!

1. Before she moved into the valley she was actually way less colorful and looked a bit more classy and put together. Her boyfriend was a bit of a minimalist and snob and wasn’t a huge fan of bright colors. So she wore pale clothes, lots of skirts and dresses, her hair was usually long and tied up neatly, etc. I’d argue she also dyed her hair a few times to make it look more like a natural color (it’s naturally that pink/red shade). Three days before moving she bought a pair of overalls and had a wild time just adding a bunch of details to them, even if it wasn’t super well put together ☺️ (the space halo heart is my own logo btw lol)

2. Mys came into the farm life clueless, friendless, and lonely 100%. It’s why she’s so eager to befriend the townies and comes off a little strong. It’s also why she can’t say no and so quick to overexert herself if someone asks her for help 😭 if she knew that most people in town had no faith in her based off the way she looked and acted when she first arrived, she would likely cry. She’s probably a little too nice sometimes too 🥺 if you’re mean to her she’ll take it and cry alone later on.

3. She talks A LOT. When she gets to know you well enough she’ll just start talking about something she’s really into and go on for hours always finding something new to point out (poor Shane lol). I once said if she was a real character in the game one of her heart events would be her holding the farmer hostage as she explained the entire lore of her show after she invited them in to watch it with her. (I have done this myself so many times.) 😭 She’s also a bit of thoughtless speaker sometimes. Saying things a little too quickly before her brain processes it.

4. On her slow farm days she’ll stay inside and catch up on tv. She really likes trash tv drama and novellas. Adding to that, she’s a huge romantic. She swoons and sighs and hopes that someone would love her so strongly. Especially after what she went though with her ex 🥹 Other hobbies include: gaming, journaling (she picked this one up after she moved), taking as many photos as possible of everything, reading (comics, romance novels, and mysteries) daydreaming, and collecting things (stuffed animals mostly)

5. She loves a good lemonade and pizza! She doesn’t really drink (at least not until she met Shane 😭) and will go into the saloon to chat with Emily over lemonade. To win Shane’s friendship she started buying a pizza to share with him, and she’d sit patiently at a booth until he came in (on easy days.) she also goes around and says hi to everyone at least once. If she’s just having me-time, you can find her in a booth writing + doodling in her journal with a bunch of candy around her.

6. I just think this little fun fact is really cute but when she found out Shane loved peppers she planted some in her greenhouse so she’ll always have some to give or use for food. 🥺 (I have that in game 🤭 and she only gives him high quality ones)

7. She’s magic babey! ✨ the day before she moved her mom gave her a red brooch. After her grandpa passed away, he sent it to her mom with instructions to only give it to Mys when she decided to move to the valley. She only found out about it when the wizard pulled it towards him and suggested that someone in her family must have arcane experience.

😭😭 sorry that was so long. I’ll write like two facts about the others

The ex: dark brown hair, brown eyes, suits (lol idk)

1. Has no name yet 😩 Can he even count as a character?? Literally the worst boyfriend ever. He and Mys dated in high school up until he ghosted her a month before she moved. He been sleeping with her best friend, Celia, and then proceeded to elope with her. This man kept Mys around with jewelry, promises, and guilt.

2. He was an executive for Joja. Mys worked for the company because of him, and ultimately had to leave for that same reason. She found out about the elopement at the office, and had a long cry in the bathroom stalls. (Btw he totally gets his butt kicked by Shane at some point)

Celia: Blonde, thin, very pretty and model-like, wears a lot of tight clothes and has that one fake best friend voice

1. The “best friend,” the betrayer. She clung onto Mys because Mys was really easy to manipulate. 🥺 Wasn’t very nice to her at all but made her believe she loved her like a sister. When Mys met Haley it was like meeting a younger Celia. 🥹 I guess mys still missed her because she tried to be Haley’s friend despite how mean she was. Luckily, Haley actually becomes pretty nice and apologizes for her rude behavior.

2. She would absolutely be a modern day influencer. Perhaps she is (if phones exist in this interpretation 🤔 I like to think they do but pelican town can’t host then or something 😭)

Todd: 7ft tall, thin but definitely works out, looks like he has money and works with money, very serious and classy 😭

1. Mys’s Boyfriend year 3? She and Shane are already pretty established as smitten by the town but they’re both stuck at the fork in the road of to be or not to be. (At some point Mys finally makes her move only for him to reject her out of fear 😭). Anyways!! She was asked by mayor Lewis to take an important business trip into the city to meet with an investor who wanted to open the land for expansion and more agricultural work. He figured Mys, as the local farmer, would have better input. Shane was supposed to accompany her into the city but they got into a bit so she left alone (Shane realized he was being stupid and ran to catch the bus but jsut barely missed it, his missed opportunity at love 😭). The investor turned out to be a guy named Toddrick Theodore Tapps. He was quickly taken with her because she was just so lively of a person. He could not believe she was the local farmer. He decided to head back into the valley with her to visit the land and ended up staying in one of Mys’s spare rooms at the farmhouse. He didn’t help her on the farm at all, mostly just walked around took notes, and inspected the quality of everything.

2. He’s very jealous. He and Shane are constantly at each other’s throats. Mys told him all about her best friend Shane :) and he knew immediately that Mys was in love with him. 😭 he did NOT expect Shane to be so dingy tho which is funny. He mentioned that to his face too. (It doesn’t help that Todd TOWERS over the both of them and looks like he comes from old money.) He polices mys’s friendships a bit commenting how some of the townies are rather immature, some seem like terrible people, and in particular, that Shane is a bad influence on those around him. When she gets upset at his obvious disrespect he apologizes for saying things that hurt her feelings 😭 the man literally only puts up with Shane for her. I do think he is romantic though, and definitely what Mys imagined being romanced would be like. He’s pretty rich so he spoils her, and buys the town’s approval with generous donations.

3. He’s a bit of himself. He’s not a bad guy, but he does think he’s a quality man and he loves what he does. So when he asks Mys to move to the city with him where he’ll spoil her for the rest of her life he’s surprised that she actually wants to be a farmer dealing with dirt, grime, monsters, and all the things in between. This man genuinely tries to convince her to give up the farm, and even tries to make a compromise that the farm will still be up and running but they’ll hire people to tend to it. (He probably also suggested changing the name to something more serious). He and Mys get into a fight over it, and he tells her what time his bus to the city will be leaving. She wishes him well, and a happy life with a wife who shares his values, and doesn’t show up that day.

4. I like to imagine years down the line Mys and Shane are in the city doing some work and play when they run into him. Both parties find out that the other is engaged/married. And they make up. He still can’t believe Mys chose Shane tho 😭 “I thought you would choose him, but I’m still surprised. You seemed so smitten with him, but he didn’t look like he was ever going to make anything of that.”

[dallonwrites]

04, 08, 10, & 34 on the tarot asks please!! I normally try to not ask more than three for courtesy's sake, so you don't have to answer all of these but I'm curious about all of them. also soooo true about mentally writing environments you're in; if I ever stop doing that I'll die, I suspect.

literally you get me....my internal monologue must be a pretentious writer describing the trees at all times....

04. THE EMPEROR: STRUCTURE (How do you plot your novels?) 

long answer: i wish i could be a plotter sometimes but it's just not how my brain works. outlines are not creative to me at all and i have to be deep into a story to know what needs to happen and how everything needs to look besides a few scenes and ideas that float in my head beforehand. i only outline if i brainstorm enough ideas that i need them organised somehow but i don't force myself to fill in the gaps. to me outlines are a like a birds eye view which isn't enough for me to figure out all the little things that need to happen

short answer:

08. STRENGTH: COURAGE (What has been the hardest part of being a writer?) 

i think trying to make it work with just, everything else that goes on in life lol. especially health stuff. lately it feels like i'm either too brain foggy or too physically tired to write consistently and it's 🧍🧍 not to mention trying to balance writing with all the other life responsibilities that come first

i also think one of the most important skills in writing - but also the hardest - is trust in yourself. after a bad writing session you have to trust yourself that it was just one session and that the good writing will come back. you have to trust yourself that you're going to see the end of a writing slump. you have to trust yourself that this is the best plot point, character arc, ending etc. for the story at this moment. you have to trust in your ability to fix or a story, or trust in your ability to let go if it truly isn't working. you have to trust that you'll come up with new and exciting ideas. overcoming self doubt is so difficult but also so important because at the end of the day validation/love/advice from others is great, but it's never guaranteed so that love for your work and your trust in yourself to create something you love is the most important part of being a writer imo....

10. WHEEL OF FORTUNE: A TURNING POINT (What was the turning point in your writing career?) 

for my personal writing journey i think it was nanowrimo 2020 when i just wrote the self indulgent novel that teenage me would have loved. it reminded me that having fun is the most important part and that the goodness of my writing doesn't need to be determined by other people reading it (and also that "writing bad" is not the end of the world. it's actually fun LOL)

for professional stuff probably getting an acceptance for the first time because well, it was the first and i realised that publishing work is something i can actually do. but also that magazine was an illustrated one so the acceptance came with the art they'd commissioned for my piece. sometimes i still flick to my page in the issue because the fact that i have art based off my writing is SO wild to me

34. QUEEN OF CUPS: EMOTIONALLY IN-TOUCH (Do you express yourself emotionally through your writing? Do you find yourself putting your feelings upon your characters?)

i do lol! writing is one of my only ways of processing things that happen to me! so many experiences and feelings i've had are in my writing, it's just the actual details i leave out. i love it because that makes my writing distant enough so it's not difficult for me to write, but i'm still able to access all the depth that comes with writing about your own feelings

tarot writing asks

[starlitsunday]

holds my head. the scp oc au rot continues i am just noting it down bc i am mildly tipsy

krita —

half-fae

formerly known as leia katz. she got involved with one of 3125's fifthist hosts, got in too deep, and ended up escaping by giving herself a head injury

this kind of had the effect of knocking leia's name and gender off. "krita" as a nickname came from the drawing program. he's an artist who specializes in cognitohazards and calming agents

except sometimes part of 3125 would show up in his art and get people killed. he ended up with an scp number of his own. he can't remember it bc that's Not His Name

he's mostly immune to his own art. his brain broke in such a way that they just kinda... censor themselves into patterns of pretty colors

he's lowkey in love with the wheelers. he can't remember marion's name for a long time so he calls her "madam firefly"

joins the serpent's hand. starts embroidering his patterns onto flags and uses those as his RPG Weapon Of Choice

sunny — double agent for the serpent's hand

they're the second researcher assigned to krita after the first one gets eaten by spiders (whoops.)

definitely a wizard of some kind

they bust out with krita and bring him to their buds

they have at least one GAW contact

they host open mics at their cafe in the wanderer's library :)

lotte —

has been in with the foundation as long as he remembers. an agent krita just knows as mr. lang

crawled out of scp-2000 one day. we don't know why

(might be a kind of reincarnation of the poor motherfucker from "v is for violence". the universe owes him a second chance)

anyway clef kinda takes him under his wing when he becomes an agent and goes like Yeah this place isn't nice to people like us. Try and be chill and don't get noticed so you don't end up with a number of your own?

has a lowkey antimemetic effect of his own as a result. might be a reality warper

assigned to figure out what krita's history is as an agent. befriends him and sunny ends up letting them escape during a breach, but stays with the foundation himself. convinced he's stuck there

unfortunately things go straight to shit two months later. the rest of the foundation and also most of everything becomes Property Of Starfish. he springs whatever unaffected anomalies he can from containment, mostly kids and young adults, and goes on the run

he gets pretty fucked up by The Supernatural Fash at some point and sunny + krita have to get him out of the universe and into the library. might be where this iteration of the character loses her sight. either way having a near death experience gets her to go "fuck it i trans my gender" and she starts going by lotte

dead fianceé. might come back as an AI

anyway they all end up as either allies or agents of vanguard. and kritas going to kiss miss wild light and also adam's ghost tenderly

[probablynotnothing]

Play

Reading a book called Play by Stuart Brown. In the book he lists the qualities that might help determine if an activity counts as play:

apparently purposeless (done not for any

voluntary (not obligatory)

inherent attraction (feels good to the person)

freedom from time (flow)

diminished consciouseness of the self (we stop thinking so much about we are doing and just "do")

improvisational potential (not locked into 1 way of doing it)

It's important to play in a way that we as individuals can receive and feel it as play...sometimes the way we feel "play" will change through out our life. And sometimes we will become depressed and unable to experience play for a while until we have different mindsets or life activities/lifestyles.

A part of play can be learning about the world and rehearsing in non-serious situations, however play isn't the same as practice. Practice can have rules, heightened sense of self and self analysis and critique, attention to time, not feel good, not be voluntary, and be done in order to further a specific outcome.

I want to accept my natural inclinations towards play, and accept my personal preferred ways of play.

Play is essential to de-stress, feel optimistic about the future, and feel positive emotions around living, and to bond with other people. This goes hand-in-hand with what I wrote about creativity- play and creative activities can over lap, and since creativity is valuable because it allows people to meaningfully connect with others, it appears that the same is true with play.

In this book Play, the author also tells the story of a wild polar bear which was observed playing with a sled dog multiple times. Upon reading the youtube comments, it seems like the phenomenon of huskies and polar bears playing may have been a bit misrepresented in the book in order to illustrative a point. But it's still amazing to witness examples of how innate and natural play is for living beings.

The author quotes animal play behavior expert Bob Fagen as saying (about grizzly bears playing with each other) "In a world continuously presenting unique challenges and ambiguity, play prepares these bears for an evolving planet".

I love applying that insight to interpreting myself as a human being apart of nature: play is essential and wise because it keeps my brain anticipating security, safety, and pleasure, which in turn allows me to believe being alive is good and not a maze of suffering haha!

Looking back, I can see the past few years I became very harsh towards myself, towards the ways I experienced pleasure and interest.

When I was younger, I had unashamedly followed my natural inclination towards play and recreational interests - which ended up including substances and risky sex (for reasons beyond my younger self's control). Because of the negative outcomes I experienced, coupled with my disadvantages in terms of the way my upbringing and being born into this time in history affected me, I took the uninformed conclusion that I was inherently wrong and bad, that I couldn't trust my natural inclinations for play. In fact I took the conclusion that things I naturally and easily enjoy are always risky and to be feared, not to be trusted, and to use fear and self harm to motivate my behaviors away from the "bad" things. (Which is so strange that this period of my life came AFTER a period of super-positive and empathetic thinking towards myself).

Because I believed only neutral, boring "not suffering" could be trusted, I couldn't allow myself play. Even when I did activities that might be considered play at different times in my life, my internal narrative was critical and pessimistic. It didn't allow me to soak in the essence of play and creativity.

In my relatively isolated life, negatively programmed mind and exhausted haywire body and brain, I was amidst the 'perfect storm' to interpret my entire reality through the lens of suffering. I'm grateful to have had access to self empowerment related things online, comedy, light hearted fun things, and helping me to have positive influences and hope and aspirations during those moments my soul was most fragmented.

Sometimes when we are depressed or suffering from anger, fear, anxiety, etc the only type of play we allow ourselves is obsessions - from addictions to harmless preoccupations - and prepackaged second-hand play with many rules or vicarious enjoyment of entertainment. These things are beautiful and anchors of hope for many people. I'm so grateful human culture values creative play and sharing our play with fellow people to help them feel more lighthearted or emotionally stimulated and inspired. I'm thankful that I found Drag Race during those times when I was in the thick of it, as an accessible reminder for me of how crucial play and silliness is, and that there are finer details that allow us to logically determine if a type of play is harmful or not.

I want to learn now what types of play I can accept that I truly want, and also have compassion for myself that my body and brain aren't yet in the position where I am capable of experiencing play in a non-depressed way, haha!

[kunstmull]

Shippuu no Blixa

Odd memory: many many years ago, I exchanged a number of messages with someone in the Neubauten fandom who initially seemed quite friendly, until the subject of "shipping" came up, at which point they became intensely hostile, and ultimately blocked me when I wouldn't take it seriously.

At the time, I had no idea what was going on, and chalked it up to "people are weird on the internet".

Shipping, to me, was an inherent part of fanfic and the other aspects of transformative fandom that I deeply loved. The term (much like its close relative, "slashing") originated in fanfic revolving around fictional characters and stories, and was carried along as part of the package when fanfic expanded to encompass RPF.

Although it seems wild to me, there are people who object to all RPF on principle. The idea that fantasising or writing fiction about pop stars or actors, or other folks who act as a silver screen embodying emotions and experiences (including sexual desire) for a living is somehow... insulting to them? That, to me, is deeply strange, and puritanical. Inspiring desire in fans is part of the job.

So I will always defend Fan Fiction - even the sometimes problematic areas like slash or shipping. (Someone writes a good piece on this every few years; here's the lastest in a long line)

And it was actually me that asked Blixa, during one of the Q&A sessions, about what his feelings about fanfic were - to which he replied (and confirmed I could share this information) he was OK with it. Other people have inspired him in his creativy; he accepts that he will inspire other people in their creativity.

...

But that comes with two important caveats:

CHAPTER 1 - Do not cross the streams.

Unless an idol has explicitly said they are interested in fanfic, do not force your fantasies on them. This is just basic fandom manners 101. It's such a talk-show-host dick move, to confront idols with this sort of thing - "did you know people on the internet imagine SMUT about you?!?!?" You have a right to your fantasies; they have the right not to have your fantasies in their face. Fanfic runs on the maxim "don't like; don't read". The people it's about enjoy those rights, too.

No, you do not have any right to talk to your fave about your theories on who you think they are secretly boffing. You are a stranger to them. That's deeply creepy and weird. Trust me, most artists with a large public profile have a team of people working to filter out this kind of behaviour long before it reaches them, because it is so stalker.

CHAPTER 2 - Fanfic is FICTION.

This is the big one. And the one I'm now realising was probably the source of the hostility from that person all those years ago. Shipping as a concept comes from Fiction. It involves reading Kirk & Spock or Mulder & Scully or Aziraphale & Crowley as being in a relationship. It's a beautiful thing, that involves creative transference of the fan's relationship with the media. (It's also a horrible thing, because who here doesn't bear the scars of some ship war or other. People get immensely invested, and intensely protective of their ships precisely because of that process of transference.) With fictional characters, there is no right or wrong as to how to read them. (And because fictional characters have authors, rather than lives of their own, sometimes it's amazing when something you have read becomes canon.)

Here's the one place where RPF is different from other fanfic. You have no right to dictate the ultimate truth of other human beings' relationships or lives.

You have every right to fantasise. You have every right to play. You have every right to project your own desires into fiction, and if you are queer, you have every right to read your own queerness into the pieces of media that you consume. Fiction is fiction; fantasy is fantasy. You have every right to whatever goes on in your own brain.

To me, that's what "shipping" is - an act of fantasy and projection that clearly owns that it is fiction, while delighting in the joy and friction of possibility and "what if?" Did I spend my entire teenage years rewinding the bits of the Bauhaus videos where Peter Murphy and Daniel Ash frotted one another over a 12-string? OF COURSE I DID. Do I now watch Buck-Tick videos, screaming "Just kiss!!!" at Acchan and Imai, until they do their fan service routine, and they make out? OF COURSE I DO!!! Do I think that gives me any insight into the actual relationship between the human beings that play those roles onstage? NO. NO, I DO NOT. Therein lies the rub.

But it turns out there's another kind of "Shipping".

And it is deeply delusional, and arrogant, and full of the worst kind of fan entitlement.

You do not have the right to insist that your own personal fantasies are The Ultimate Truth about another person's life. That is grotesque. But unfortunately, if there's one thing I've learned on Tumblr, it is that there are a lot of delusional people on the internet, who cannot keep firm boundaries between their own desires and the lives of other people.

Don't be one of them.

[herstarburststories]

Although I can't recall your face, still got love for you (Peter Parker x Reader)

A/N: some nwh spoilers and you will understand better if you've watched the movie!

You tend to forget the things you love.

It's not something you are particularly proud of. Honestly, you barely notice when you end up in such tangles. It comes and goes in small doses, like a medicine hidden in food: you don't notice there's something different until someone mentions it.

Birthdays of loved ones were the most easy to solve. you wrote all the important numbers on a calendar. When it came to movies that used to be your favorites, you'd search for the actress name that starred in it since the proper title never stuck in your brain. Songs were the most wittily, slowly falling back into melancholic recognition as you heard the chorus accidently on your drive back home, or because you found a CD lost in your wardrobe. 

You tend to forget things you love, but you never thought you'd forget Peter Parker, a man who as craved into your bones, someone who coaxed you into being better.

It's 9pm when the alarm goes on like a siren. you murmur and nuzzle deeper into the pillow, knowing very well this was your free day. The man lying next to you pulls your frame closer by your waist and presses a loving kiss to your shoulder. The light-hearted atmosphere brings a smile out of your grumpy, morning face.

“Good morning, hot stuff.”

“Good morning,—” A name comes on the tip of your tongue, scratching to be said, screamed even. But you can't come up with the syllables, you can't make a name, a person out of it. A slight despair bites your heart, but it's so early. You don't want to worry about the annoying sensation of forgetting something important that always seems to follow you close behind — because, yes, you have that agony of déjà vu more times than you'd like to admit.

Therefore, you convince yourself that your brain is just trying to come up with a funny nickname that you once gave Petrus, a playful comeback for his endless ones, that you just happen not to be able to put a finger on because of your morning laziness.

You yawn before greeting him, “Petey.”

You peck his cheek and cling back to the hoax warmth of your comfort zone, body comfortable on the mattress and mind slowly driving back into sleep, taken by tiredness.

You tend to forget things you love, and sometimes people too. You don't quite remember anything other than the braids of your first best friend. You don't remember the name of your favorite movie — does it have a the in the title or not? — even though you've watched it plenty of times. 

Your memory isn't spectacular, although you don't forget your keys or where you put your laptop very often. Practical things are easy to recall, but the important ones, as ironic as it sounds, always seemed to hide in the back of your mind— always escaping your best reminiscences, always slipping beyond your reach to leave room for the sentiment. Even when you didn't remember why you felt something so wondrous and wild, you felt it nonetheless. 

Pretty much like cupping your hands and taking water in the river, and watching it fall through your fingers; the water leaves to be one with the river again, but the sensation of wet hands will linger on you.

So you can't tell you which memory pushes you near to an attack whenever you see anything related to Star Wars, or when you learned so much about spiders, or why you suddenly lost you fear of high heights to the point you feel at home sky jumping, like you've done with this countless times before and knew someone wouldn't let you fall — you'd just say you're a natural. 

And, at the top of all the long lost loves, you can't record the face of the love of your life, although you still got love for him.

Peter Parker.

Y/N was always good with forgetting and moving on. A magic help was just that— a trick. That doesn't change your nature. It just makes you exhausted whenever you accidentally punch the wall made of golden brick in your mind.

And even though you can't remember so many things, you still got love for each one. your heart still beats faster into a childish emotion whenever you watch Star Wars because that was Peter's favorite movie, you still catch yourself mumbling songs you both used to listen, sharing a pair of headphones to in between classes when you're attempting to cook. You still visit a special, high building in New York, just to sit on the top of it and sit with your feelings, because somehow just being there always comforts you. You still believe in Spider-Man, even though J.Jonah always makes sure to keep everyone second guessing. You still pour two glasses of hot cocoa at the end of a hard day, even though Petrus hates chocolate. You still smile at any child wearing braids because that relates innerly to your childhood best friend. 

You remain in love after everything is gone, even him. Even when it feels like you're losing your mind (because this is what love is), you wouldn't trade such red emotions for anything. Even if they seem almost too real like a fantasy most days, even then. 

Everything you had loved and let go is still you're, finding a corner in the room without disturbing the fresh air that comes with each breath taken. Like a folk song with changed details, only the essential feeling of the history being passed down, even though the words might change. you would always get love for the ones you had to leave behind.

Because life is just like breathing in the most cruel, magic, and joyful way. You breathe and that's it. You breathe and inhale new molecules of oxygen, more life. And then you exhale, leaving what you once got after you're renewed by what it brought to you. Yet, the air that's around you is still that sweet mix of past, present, and future.

It's wonderful how forever can be gentle for love, letting you linger the sensations even when you forget the faces. 

Peter's love, your love for him, will last so long.

(to you both, because peter keeps a little glimmer of hope hidden in his pocket, his own safe space as a knee to his chest. he lost so much, but you're still alive. you're attending your dream college, you got yourself a boyfriend, you and Ned and MJ are still close, you seem happy. the spider-Man always checks up on you and your friends from time to time, mostly you to make sure you're safe, but that's all he can afford now. you're happy, that's enough to keep him going. even when he's shipwrecked, you're his ocean and sand. and you're warm and sunny and secure and happy. this is enough, peter will make it be enough for his heart too.) 

Comment and reblog because feedback is magic! And it helps me a lot. ;)

[sukirichi]

— hands to myself (nanami kento x reader)

pov: you miss nanami too much that you can’t keep your hands to yourself

content/warnings: nsfw, voyeurism, masturbation, spanking, multiple orgasms, daddy kink, sugar daddy nanami, unedited fic

inspo: hands to myself by selena gomez

note: i can’t get sugar daddy nanami out of my head my brain goes brr brr PLEASE SEND ME THIRSTY ASKS ABOUT NANAMI 

@unabashednightmarepizza​ and @noritoshiikamo​ asdgjkl here we goooo i guess 

masterlist !

the penthouse felt so lonely without nanami.

he’s been working so hard, staying overtime and coming home just as you’re already buried in the sheets. nanami would slither in as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the peaceful slumber of his baby girl, but what he doesn’t know is that you don’t mind waking up, just to see and feel him before he leaves for work again the next morning.

right before the sun rises, nanami’s already left. in your dazed state, you’re sure you felt him kissing your forehead before the doors close with a soft click, leaving you alone all over again.

you know he doesn’t mean it, you know he doesn’t want to leave you – but nanami is a hero and he has a duty to the people of this world to exorcise curses to bring a safer environment for everyone. truly, you admire him for this, sometimes a little too much that you might even fall in love with the rigid and stoic man who doesn’t smile.

still, you can’t help but to miss him.

ever since you became his baby girl, life has been easy. even though nanami wasn’t around all the time, he made it up by leaving his credit card to you, assuring you that you were free to get what you wanted. out of boredom, you’d go to the upstate and use his car to drive around the hills, arms heavy with shopping bags.

you’re not selfish, of course, you always make sure to bring him a little gift too. whether it came in the form of buying a new necktie for him – which he always wore to work proudly – or donning your body in lacy, white lingerie that has nanami losing control and worshipping your body until you’re screaming his name with a dried throat, you never forget to leave a little something for him.

sometimes you wish you could tell him you don’t really want the money. you’re thankful he’s more than generous to help you pay for college fees in return of you being his sweet baby girl, but you don’t need the Gucci or prada if he’s not going to be around.

you wanted nanami more than anything else, missed him more than anyone else.

your room feels so empty without him. his scent still lingers in your sheets because he’d rather sleep with you than stay in his own room, only using said room for showering and getting ready for work.

a lightbulb shines above your head. throwing your iphone to the side, you run to his room and open the cabinets one by one. nanami was as organized with his surroundings as he was with himself. his closet is an impressive collection of dark blue button-ups, nude slacks, and his iconic nude suit jacket. they’re all of the same brand and size, and you laugh because only nanami would buy the same thing over and over again.

at the end though, your gaze lands on a rare collection of white button ups, neckties neatly rolled and tucked at the glossy marbled drawers in front of the closet. already, you feel your heartbeat picking up as your hands touched the soft cotton material, nose slowly rubbing and burying into his shirt.

it even smells like him.

your movements are swift. previous shirt discarded on the floor, your arms loop inside the sleeves, tying up just until the undersides of your breasts before you pick out your favourite tie for him, a satin black one that always made him look delectable for dinner parties.

nanami rarely wore those, but when he did, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself. the last time he brought you with him for a birthday ball of his friend, nanami wore this exact black tie paired with the traditional fitted, three piece suit. you remember how needy you were for him that night, little fists clenched at his dress shirt and nanami lowly scolding you to behave.

but you were so desperate to touch him – how could you not when he was so damn irresistible – that he felt bad for his baby girl. long story short, you and nanami left early for the party, with your pussy bouncing up and down his thick pole while nanami glared at the limousine driver to keep his eyes on the road, large, calloused hands possessively gripping the flesh of your ass.

you missed him so much you might go crazy.

grabbing the nearest bottle of his perfume, you spritz it into the air, leaning forwards so that you’d get his scent all over you. it somehow felt as if you were coating yourself in his name, claiming and branding yourself as his even without him in the vicinity.

that’s how much you wanted him, and you don’t stop rubbing his perfume along the pads of your wrist until you can’t smell yourself anymore. your legs are accentuated by the black suede pumps you strutted around the penthouse with, lips tainted red from the wine he kept in his precious little cellar – which was also a spot in the house you both fucked at during that time nanami wanted to taste you on his lips.

he pushed you next to the glass borders then, spreading your legs open until you’re absolutely bare of him. the memory of nanami burying his warm tongue in you has you rubbing your thighs together, your black lace panties already damp with arousal.

you won’t touch yourself, though. that’s one of the rules nanami placed the moment he agreed to be your sugar daddy: you couldn’t, under any circumstance, touch yourself without his permission.

sighing, you trudged back to his bedroom again and sat your ass on his silver desk, legs swinging below you as you stared out into the night city.

nanami likes his room dark, that even though he’s got a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, he almost never opens it. only the bright light from the opened closet is what illuminates your silhouette as you watch the skyscrapers twinkle from afar, the people bustling on the streets looking like ants from this height. it was perfect – the night looked so beautiful and the ambience so romantic with soft, classical music playing from the AI speakers – but nanami isn’t here.

he wouldn’t come home early either. you could already tell how stressed he’d be because gojo satoru always makes him work overtime.

for now, you just had to enjoy your own presence, replacing nanami’s heat and love with his perfume and clothes. his shirt is absolutely baggy on you, the ends of it falling on top of your thighs. your breasts nearly swells out from the tight cups of your bra and the fat of your thighs clumped underneath the straps of your stockings.

you’ve sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. it sounds selfish, but you wished that nanami would come home early and pay attention to you. surely, gojo satoru would be more than fine handling the curses himself for just today.

unable to help it, your head fell back on the transparent glass windows of his room, fingers snaking under his shirt. instinctively, your legs opened, a breathy sigh falling from your glossy red lips as you slipped a finger in. it’s not as big or as thick as nanami’s, and your hands are way too soft compared to the scraping sensation his calloused fingers gave whenever he fingered your pretty little pussy.

it’s nothing compared to what nanami can make you feel, but it should be enough, for now.

your head falls back as your heel lands on his desk, nearly grazing the precious smooth top of his table. you have a feeling nanami is going to punish you once he sees the slight scrapes of your stiletto against it, but who cares? at this point, you’re willing to pull off the stupidest things just to get his attention, just to get him to fuck you.

“nanami,” you moan around the second finger, your other hand spreading your legs open. you’re so horny that you don’t bother taking your panties off anymore, the material flushed with the slick of your own arousal that it’s heavily damp. “daddy, i miss you,” eyes shut tight, you fondle with the sensitive nub of your clit, pumping yourself slowly as you imagine that it’s nanami making you feel good this time.

you know you’re being a bad girl, that you’re being an absolute brat. not only did you break the rule that you’re not allowed to touch yourself exactly after you convinced yourself you wouldn’t, but you’re leaking right at his desk, heels grazing into the smooth material.

if nanami were to see, he wouldn’t forgive you.

he would break you.

if it was a punishment, then why do you enjoy the idea of it? why are you so enticed, so excited, so eager to have your daddy use you like a fucktoy? your lashes flutter against your cheeks, hips bucking into your cupped palm as your belly begins to tighten. “b-break me, daddy, please, nanami-”

“what do you think you’re doing?”

you freeze.

tentatively, you crack an eye open, swallowing audibly when nanami stands at the edge of his door, his glasses already removed. now that his beautiful blue eyes aren’t obscured by anything, you’re met with the intense heat of his gaze, nearly burning like wild fire. you glance down at your fingers buried in your pussy and gulp, pulling them out with a loud shlick. you were so wet at just the thought of him, so stupid to even want to be punished, but now your spine freezes when nanami struts to your way.

his hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “i asked you a question,” his low, baritone voice has you clenching around nothing, throat tight out of nervousness. “i said, what do you think you’re doing?”

“i-i’m sorry, daddy,” you duck your head down, lips red and trembling. “i just missed you so much and i got so horny-”

“so you thought it was okay to touch yourself? even after i’ve made it clear i don’t want you doing that?”

“i’m so sorry-”

nanami doesn’t give you a chance to speak before his lips crash into yours, his tongue effortlessly slipping inside to swipe over your teeth. you gasp in his mouth when his large hands cup your ass and haul your weight off the desk, legs wrapped around his waist. nanami slaps it, making the flesh bounce and gripping it tightly with a firm squeeze. you’re pretty sure you’d turn completely red and marked by the end of this, but you don’t care, fuck, you don’t fucking care – nanami’s here and that’s all you care about.

you kiss him back just as eagerly, arms around his neck as he carries you like you weigh nothing. nanami groans when your teeth nibble on his lips, eager and needy hands unbuttoning his shirt. his hard pecs and abs greet you like a present you couldn’t wait to unwrap, and you’re both breathing hard by the time you pull away.

“are those my clothes?” he snaps the strap of your bra under his shirt, eyes narrowed over the way you look terrifyingly small in his shirt. you nod, breasts rising up and down, tempting him to reach over and squeeze it. your back arches at his touch, his ministrations missed and needed. no, you craved it. he’s been gone too long you’re not sure you could take it anymore, and you hiss when nanami buries his sharp nose in the juncture of your neck, the front of his pants damp and coated with your exposed wet cunt. “and you’re wearing my perfume too.”

“y-yes.”

“tell me, baby,” nanami sets you down on your feet. your legs are a little wobbly from the heels and with desire burning in your stomach. he steadies you by placing a hand under your armpit, and you lean forward to kiss him one more time. nanami tsks and shoves you backwards, cheek sliding across the glass. “why did you go to my room without my permission? why did you touch yourself when i told you not to? do you want to be punished?”

your cheek stings from the impact of your skin hitting the glass, but your mind is too clouded with lust you can’t really focus on his words. wiggling your ass to press against his erection, you beg for him, hands looking for the comfort of his skin.

nanami slaps your ass and hand away to shut you up, and you fall forwards with a muffled cry. “answer me when i ask you a question, baby girl. i’m not always going to be this nice.”

“daddy, i-i just missed you so much, i couldn’t help it.”

“you missed me?” you hear his belt unbuckling behind you, your ass perking up in excitement. fuck, you just wanted him to pound into you already. but nanami’s always too patient, always controlled in everything he does, that you’re laying there shaking with your pussy dripping for him. finally, fucking finally, you feel his cock enter you inch by delicious inch, and you moan at the same time nanami groans at burying himself deep within you. “my stupid silly baby can never keep her hands to herself, huh?”

“no, daddy, i want you too much, i just miss you so bad.”

“you do?” he teases, rolling his hips languidly. his pace is so slow and teasing that you’re whining for him to go faster, but nanami only shakes his head. before you could fathom the way nanami’s eyes darken, he leans forward, hitting deeper than he did before. your moans are so breathy that you start fogging up the glass, and nanami rubs your swollen clit before using his hands to squish your cheeks. he forces you to follow his gaze, voice low and almost growling. “if you miss daddy so much, then show it to them. show them how good i’m making you feel. come on, baby girl, i know you can do it. you’ll do it for me won’t you?”

realization dawns you the moment nanami pushes your body further in the glass, your breasts squished and flattened against the cool surface. “d-daddy,” you gasp, tightening around him once you see that the overtime workers from the office parallel to his penthouse are now witnessing the way nanami rams his cock into you like a wild animal. “they’re, ah, watching.”

“i know, baby, i know,” nanami loosens his necktie around your neck, snatching it and tying it around your wrists instead. “let these people know you’re mine – that you’re my baby girl and no one else’s okay?”

hands bound behind your back and nanami’s thick cock thrusting roughly into you, you’re unable to move or even think straight. you just nod mindlessly as nanami keeps fucking into you, hands gently pressing down your throat. his dick keeps rubbing against your most sensitive spots and you’re shaking underneath him, your arousal heightened when you saw several of the office workers have already pulled out their cocks and stroked it at the sight of you dripping onto nanami’s black marble floors.

nanami doesn’t stop praising on how much you’re a good girl for him. now that his cock is buried within you, he’s already forgotten that you’ve broken his precious rule.

you don’t complain, though. how could you when he has you screaming his name, your makeup and sweat leaving a figure the shape of body plastered on his glass walls? you’re sure his housekeeper is going to be so angry at the both of you for leaving cum stains everywhere, but you and nanami have forgotten all about it.

it seems he misses you just as much because nanami doesn’t stop fucking you until you’re full of his cum, breasts swollen and aching from being pressed into the wall for so long.

an hour passed – maybe two – you’ve lost count from the amount of times nanami has made you cum. your legs are giving out beneath you and your latest lingerie set is broken, comforted only by the promise that he’s going to get you good one. you’re absolutely lost in the pleasure of nanami driving his cock impossible deep into you all the way until morning, body spent and shaking from all the orgasms.

fucked out and whining, nanami litters kisses all over your body to soothe you a little bit, but he doesn’t stop. and the truth is, you don’t want him to, either. legs wrapped around his waist and heels digging into his ass, nanami finally tangles his hands into yours as he pistons his cock in and out of your squelching pussy.

he’s giving you his all, and you can’t keep your hands to yourself no matter how hard you’re trying to, not when nanami is prowling into you as you’re spread underneath him before he goes gentle, almost as if making love to you.

well, you could, but why would you want to?

[hollyhomburg]

Color me pretty

(Bts Little space au)

Summary: When it came to the littles, the caregivers knew there was no better activity than coloring. 

Tags: SFW, implied bts x reader, pure fluff, little space, little! kookie, Little! m/c, Caregivers! bts, 

W/c: 1.5k

A/n: If you don’t like this kind of content please just skip over it and pay it no mind! this is very sweet and fluffy. this can be read alone, but i did use the characters from my other little space ask au titled ‘the peanut butter to my jelly’ it’s linked at the end of the fic!  i wrote this drabble in one sitting! 

- On the nights that Koo and the m/c are non-verbal but still feeling energetic enough to need stimulation the caregivers have a special little ritual that they like to do. 

- it’s something tucked away, always ready to have on hand when they need it, it never fails to calm an overly excited or sugar high little; the blanket made out of a special material that can be washed after it’s doodled on, painted, and made new. 

- On those special days, the caregivers bring around all their ‘messy blankets’ the fort making supplies that no one minds if they get ruined, if koo gets his apple sauce on it or if a sippie mistakenly gets it’s lid taken off. they make a nest in the living room with markers and crayons and they’re allowed to get the blanket as colorful as possible. 

- The blanket is magic in the littles eyes! filled with simple flowers that they can color in as many times as they want! All the laundry fairy (Taehyung) has to do is pop the blanket in the washer and voila! it’s all ready for more coloring! no more marker marks. 

- I just picture her and Koo stretched out on it with half of their stuffed animals for “moral support” while cartoons play in the background coloring to their hearts content. Koo gets a little younger in his headspace sometimes than the m/c though they’re pretty equal in general.

- Eventually koo just gets so small that he forgoes coloring all together, instead busying himself with sucking on the end of a marker. while the m/c just giggles with her tongue hanging out, swinging her feet, the picture of adorable concentration as she struggles to keep her pink marker inside the lines.

- Occasionally one of the caregivers will come in to check on them. And they’d come pet over their heads and koo and the m/c just excitedly gesture to the mess they’ve made! their brains too cottony to make many words other than “flower! made’ pink!!!” koo in his little sing song voice going “flower flower flower~” 

- And whichever caregiver who is on “baby duty” will praise them, today it’s yoongi who takes a second to sit, each of the littles tucked under an arm. yoongi leaning in close and tracing his finger along their pretty lines. “you guys got so far today! almost all of them are filled!” he loves how puffed up both of your chests get at the praise. 

- He can almost tell how far down they were when they first started coloring. on the outside border the flowers are carefully patterned, but the ones just under where you where sitting are full of wilds scribbles. Yoongi reminds himself to take a picture before they wash it, wanting to save a memory of today. 

- “Oh did you make this for us little ones? I bet Joonie’s going to love it you know how much he loves nature! and you even gave each of them little stems.”

- And of course, eventually they find the m/c and koo are asleep in their little puddle of markers. Maybe the m/c has a little bit of purple splotch on her cheek. After they wake them up to put them to bed she whines softly when they clean it off her cheek “oh you poor fussy baby, don’t worry it will only take a second” her cute pout demanding a kiss for every rub.

- Eventually she presses into bed and koo kisses the faintly red spot on her face. his kiss a little wet and open mouthed but so innocent it makes the caregivers bookending them on either side coo. it’s as much of a sorry as koo can articulate right now. his mind feels like marshmellows and stuffed animals, like a too squeezed juice pouch and an empty packet of fruit snacks. totally devoid of big scary thoughts. 

- The caregivers are glad they made the decision to throw out all and every permanent marker in the house after the last little incident when Koo decided that people were a viable canvas. I think their whole house would be full of little doodles from the two littles. When they get big they always blush and say that they don’t need to pin them to every available surface. But the caregivers just shush them because they honestly love their drawings. 

-To the caregivers, their collection of drawings is a representation of the love they have for their two youngest. A mark of a healthy relationship- that they can give love in a way that matters to the two of them. Maybe jimin gets a tattoo of one of their flowers, a little purple one for koo and a pink one for the m/c on his hip at once point. 

- Maybe one day the m/c has what they affectionately call a ‘tiny day’ where she’s small and can’t seem to snap out of it. she tries valiantly, but after that catch her pouting down at her coffee and staring wistfully at her stuffy on the bed they tell her it’s okay. she can be small today and they’ll handle all of the big thoughts. 

- Of course they can’t stay home because they have a track due soon, and alas they are adults, so certain things have to be accounted for. There have been many times that the m/c has had to pretend to be at least a little big in public, luckily for the caregivers their littles are always remarkably well behaved. 

- They treat it as a game, today, bunny is a secret agent and cannot be discovered by anyone, sent to protect the princess. Nothing can happen to her as long as bunny’s there. But no one can see bunny- or else his powers are nullified. It does the trick. They love to see her nodd seriously when Tae weaves the story for her. it makes their heart hurt when they catch her talking to the bunny. “i gots you.” it makes it so hard to seperate from her for the day. 

- Seokjin packs up a day bag and gets her in the comfiest clothes possible and she spends the whole day quietly coloring in the corner of Joonie’s studio with her favorite bunny stuffie in her lap. She’s always careful to tuck him under her blanket and hide him whenever someone comes knocking, pretending to tap away on Namjoon’s tablet, but luckily no one pays her much mind, used to her presence. 

- When the noise and the stimulation gets too much for her namjoon puts her in a pair of noise canceling headphones that play soft nature sounds and pretty soon when he turns around to check on her he finds she’s nodded off in his couch. And he gets up to fix the blanket around her before he goes back to work for a few more hours. 

- She’s still asleep when the others finish up and decide to pry joonie away from work (a feat in itself) and when the others softly knock at the door she gets up, all bleary-eyed and honestly half-asleep rubbing at her eyes with a closed fist. almost tripping in happiness when she sees jungkook. hitting into his chest with a little ooof, almost tripping to get out of her blanket. So excited to see him- her favorite playmate “Koo play now!? koo get tiny!!!??” 

- Already the stress is weighing on Jungkook’s shoulders, his eyes getting all misty when he sees her bunny and the blanket and just wants to regress so bad. He starts to help her clean up the day bag but seokjin and Namjoon ease him away from it.

-  “You’ve got to watch her for us Kookie, can you do that? can you be a good boy?” by now they know how to softly nudge Jungkook into his headspace and it does the trick, lets him have a task before he can truly let go. they end up giggling softly with their foreheads pressed up against each other, telling stupid little jokes that are no doubt from jin and playing with each others hands. 

- On the ride Home, they both hold onto one of bunnies ears in the backseat of their car. Their heads loling by the time they pull into their safe underground parking garage ready for some snuggles and probably a nice relaxing bath for kookie because he hates feeling sweaty from practice when he’s little. He Just wants to sit and play with some bubbles and bath toys while someone runs shampoo through his hair, the soft-smelling kind that's meant for babies.

- Inevitably Koo always looks up from his bubble bath and points at himself and says “baby?” Hobi nods sagely while smoothing his hair into a goofy mohawk, “baby” he agrees.  

- But that’s not exactly true- the better term would be ‘their babies’

~Fin~ 

Please reblog and comment! Likes are nice- but they do little to support content creators! 

(You can find more little space content here)

[angryschnauzer]

Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare​

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites​ or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

-

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

-

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in. 

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”

[funtimebunnyblog]

Let's all raise a glass to you, Surey! 🥰😇❤ Please enjoy!

The Pillarmen go out to a Bar with you! 🍻

(Under the cut for length...)

Kars:

• Kars isn't really a person to go out to drink.

• If anything, he prefers to enjoy a drink or two at Home and unwind with a book or in a bath.

• However, if you want to take him out on the town he doesn't refuse you, even though he's not the biggest fan of bars or nightclubs and the crowds of people that come with it.

• If this was something that made you happy, than he supposed it would all be worthwhile to let you enjoy yourself.

• When going out to a bar or a club, those are the nights he dons his dark coat and hat (despite how you may plan to dress for the evening) and walks arm in arm with you down the street to the place of your choice.

• You better had pick a good one because he's not a man to hop from place to place in one night. He makes it very clear that it's here and then Home.

• The majority of the night he prefers to sit quietly at the bar or at a booth in the far corner, silently nursing a glass of vodka or red wine.

• He'll let you dance and socialize and enjoy yourself all you want but don't expect him to do the same.

• Kars will also monitor how much you're drinking and don't think he won't cut you off if he's deemed you've had enough.

• For your safety, he keeps his eyes on you at all times as he doesn't exactly trust these kinds of establishments and he knows how truly disgusting Humans can be if given the chance.

• It's no surprise he has absolutely no tolerance for riff raff or drunks should they happen to be around.

• Anyone who's sober (or anyone with a brain for that matter) wouldn't dare to bother him, simply by the powerful and inhuman aura he emits just sitting there.

• Once on a night out, a drunk man who was entertaining himself by going around and poking people made the mistake of staggering up to Kars where he sat, reaching out and tapping him right on the nose.

• Surprisingly very calm about it, Kars watched him stumble away laughing with little more than a glare before rising to his feet. The song had suddenly changed in that moment and couples were dancing to some upbeat music, Kars left his glass behind at the bar and approached you on the dance floor.

• It shocked you to say the least when Kars approached and took your hand and asked for a dance to which you happily obliged.

• This was a little odd for Kars to want to dance in public but you didn't think to question it.

• As the dance floor crowded and people danced away the drunk man made his rounds again, laughing as he went around and tapped people on the nose, pinched their cheek or flicked them on the chin. Kars had his eyes set on him the entire time he danced, waiting with all the patience in the world.

• The unsuspecting man passed bye Kars one more time and the altercation was fast. Very fast. So very momentary even you didn't see it happen.

• Kars spun you around with one hand and with the other he curled his fist and punched the drunk man straight under his chin, knocking him to the floor, completely unconscious.

• Kars continued to dance with you like nothing at all happened as people suddenly took notice, crowding around the floored drunk questioningly.

• "Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder, lips pursed and the very definition of unbothered. Not a soul (not even you) suspected a thing. "It would seem he's had too much to drink."

• In Kars' opinion, that was more merciful than the man deserved.

• On the nights where you're drunk, you can bet that he's grumbling the entirety of the time dragging you Home.

• Listening to you giggle and chatter on without a care in the world, slurring your words and relying on him to keep upright might've warmed his heart if he wasn't aware of the complete mess you would be in the morning.

• Kars isn't one to baby you when you're hungover either.

• You did this to yourself and he did warn you not to drink so much afterall.

• But he's not cruel to you when you're hungover. He'll smoothe your hair and rub your back if you happen to get sick. He'll also make you drink plenty of water and he'll let you rest as long as you need to.

• As long as you had fun and keep enjoying these little nights out he doesn't mind all the displeasing parts that come with it. Your happiness is truly what matters to him in the end.

Esidisi:

• Quite the opposite of Kars, Esidisi LOVES going out on the town for a couple of drinks with you.

• In fact, he's got a number of favourite places around to pick but he'll always ask you for your approval when making the decision.

• Chances are, when you and him are such frequent Bar goers together, EVERYONE at your favourite spots will know you!

• Esidisi sometimes likes to go the extra mile for the occasion and throw on something sexy but still casual. Long sleeved, colourful shirts halfway unbuttoned and some jewelry always does the trick for him.

• The most memorable nights for you both is when there's a new place opened up in town and the two of you go to check it out, meet some new people and maybe dance a little.

• It's probably safe to say that Esidisi's favourite thing to do is mess with any drunks that happen to be around.

• He'll sit at the bar as you drink and socialize with some of your friends, surrounded by a bunch of tipsy Humans, using his powers to do the oddest tricks for money.

• The crowd goes absolutely wild no matter how many times they see him make a glass of cold beer boil using just his hand.

• Chances are, Esidisi might end up being more drunk than you the majority of these nights because of his entertaining nature.

• "You can't possibly drink that whole glass in one go." The Bartender frowned at the Pillarman skeptically after he had made that outrageous claim. "It's not possible."

• Esidisi could only grin at him as he put the glass to his lips. Without another word he threw back his head, sucking down the cold, inky Beer in one massive gulp; foam and all.

• The Bartender (now not so skeptical) and the man sitting to Esidisi's left, who had been nursing his 2nd glass of the same stuff for about 10 minutes now, could only stare at him, awestruck.

• "Aw Hell," he gaped. "I'd pay 20$ to see that again!"

• 20$ was put down and another glass gone within seconds; just the same as the first. A crowd began to draw around the bar and the massive man seated there.

• 40$, 80$, 150$, 300$ bets were laid out on the counter and Esidisi rightfully collected ALL of it as he just kept drinking, each glass gone in a single gulp.

• Needless to say, you're gonna be screwed if you're drunk yourself on nights like that because stuffing a Pillarman whose drank his body weight in alcohol into a Cab to try and get him Home isn't an easy job.

• Most especially when said drunkard Pillarman keeps insisting he's NOT drunk, whines he doesn't wanna go Home yet and keeps trying to go back inside.

• When Esidisi is hungover the next day it's not a treat either. Be prepared for WHINING.

• However, if you happen to be the hungover one he's probably one of the best caregivers you could ask for.

• He'll chuckle as he gives you some ibuprofen and water, telling you all about the great time you both had (if you happen to have forgotten) and how you took your drinks like an absolute champ.

• Needless to say, he's always down for a night out at a bar with you.

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu was a little on the inexperienced side when it came down to drinking or going to places like bars.

• Overtime with you however, he grows more accustomed to the concept of both.

• When you take him out to a bar for a couple of drinks he doesn't really dress up for the occasion unless you tell him to. He prefers to just put on a clean white T-shirt, sweatpants and maybe a hoodie.

• You'll have to order his drink for him on the first few nights out together because he honestly doesn't know what he likes or what to have.

• The variety of alcohol (let alone the amount of brands under a single kind) was a little overwhelming to him.

• "--and what will you have?" "Um... beer?" "What kind, sir?" "..... um.... beer?"

• He's happy to let you drink and socialize if you wish to but he'll be a little lost if you leave him alone at the bar with his drink and a bunch of strangers to go to the washroom.

• Surprisingly however, it isn't hard for him to make some friends when that happens.

• With nothing else to do, he'll be watching whatever sports game is happening on one of the many TV's as he sips away at his drink.

• The game doesn't really interest him (he doesn't even understand the point of it) but he picks up on the habit of cheering when other people in the bar cheer and celebrate for their team.

• Because of that, other men and sportsfans alike will just flock to Wamuu under the impression he's a fellow sportsfanatic (or maybe even a sports player himself due to his massive size).

• By the time you come back, he's surrounded by a gaggle of sportsfans all cheering and highfiving Wamuu, patting him on the back, punching his shoulder and offering him plenty more to drink.

• He just shrugs at you when he catches your confused gaze from across the bar as he's not really sure what's going on either.

• Though he's content to let you drink and enjoy yourself, he knows very well when you've had quite enough to drink. He will straight up pick you up and carry you Home if need be.

• "Kisssh me, Wammmmuu." You half-giggled, sluggishly trying to pull yourself more upright to give his absolutely delectable looking lips the smooching you so wanted to as he closed the door of your apartment behind him.

• The Warrior sighed, patting your head. "Oh beloved, I am most honored you want to but you're drunk, it's not right..." he told you gently, carrying you all the way to your bedroom to lay you down despite any protests you might make.

• After giving you plenty of water and tucking you in (you at least get a goodnight kiss on the head), he'll keep an eye on you until the morning and ensure all your needs are met when you're hungover.

• If you ask him, he'll admit that he had fun and has no objections to going out again next weekend.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana isn't exactly the biggest fan of noises or crowds of Humans in one settlement.

• Be prepared for him to crinkle his nose at the thought of going to a bar or a club where all of that happens under one roof.

• After some coaxing however, he'll agree but mostly for your sake.

• He wants to see you happy and he knows that nights out for some fun and social interaction was healthy for Humans.

• Besides, he also saw this as an opportunity to study Humans and try to understand their behavior a little better.

• Santana will throw on some street clothes and follow you wherever you want to go that night; whether its near or far, big or small.

• When going to a bar he's more interested in the food there rather than the drink.

• In fact; you'll come to find that he LOVES Bar food.

• The waitress will barely turn her back for a second before the basket of nachos she just delivered him has suddenly ceased to exist and he's asking for more.

• With an appetite like that, the Bar staff asks him if he wants to try their challenge of eating a HUGE meal under a set amount of time. If he wins he gets the meal free and all the drinks you order tonight free, his next meal here free and his picture on the Bars wall of fame.

• He only agrees to the challenge because he likes the sound of free food.

• The food comes and Santana makes it on the wall of fame easily in record time. The Owner of the place is absolutely gobsmacked with the fact that Santana scarfed down an ENTIRE 10 pound burger in less than 2 minutes.

• Santana will stare at the menu of drinks for the longest time, mouthing out the names of drinks and brands curiously. He'll want you to explain him what everything is but he honestly won't know what he'll like.

• He absolutely doesn't like beer. Not at all.

• The first sip of the first glass given to him was promptly spit out. Santana's mouth twisted into a bitter knot, pushing the glass FAR away and shaking his head frantically to try and rid of the disgusting yeasty film left on his tongue.

• You'll have to order him something more appealing in taste if you want him to drink at all.

• You'll find that he comes to enjoy a more sweet and fruity tropical drink like a Piña colada.

• "How is it?" You ask, a smile tugging at your mouth when you notice a little gleam in his eye as he put the colourful drink to his lips. He definitely looked less miserable than he had a moment ago.

• "Hmm," a little pink tongue darted out to swipe along his upper lip, his thumb fiddling with the tiny umbrella sitting on the ridge of the glass. "sweet. Pleasing."

• Because of his newfound love for the sweet tropical tasting booze you might have to monitor how much he has to be on the safe side as you weren't sure whether Santana would handle intoxication well.

• However, if you decide to let go and have one too many Santana will put his arm around you and firmly tell you it's time to go Home.

• He doesn't really know the first thing about the care and feeding of a hungover Human but he'll do anything you ask of him.

• You need water? He's got two bottles ready for you. Head hurt? He'll sprint to the store for Ibuprofen for you. The sunlight in the window bothering you? He'll cover that window using his own body if he has to.

• You might just be surprised when he asks you if you and him could go to another bar soon for more good food and a couple more drinks...