#i know we don't need a piece of paper to prove our love but i really would love to make it official

[inkykeiji]

Waiting for you and your bf to get married already 😭 best couple ever

EEEEEE EHEHEHE THIS MADE ME GIGGLE LIKE A LIL SCHOOLGIRL <333 ur so sweet thank u so much!!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting to marry my partner?

So my (F29) partner (FtM29) and I have been together off and on since we were 13. We're each other's person through and through. We were each other's first everything. He was there for me when I came out as lesbian and later bisexual, I was there for him when he came out as asexual and later trans. He moved in with me and my mom at 18 when his religious family disowned him for wanting to medically transition. He worked his ass off to support us alone while I went to college, then I returned the favor while he went to trade school. We almost never disagree about anything at all except for one thing: marriage.

To him, the idea of marriage is tainted because of his religious upbringing (he was brought up Mormon), and he doesn't really like the idea of "binding" himself to another person legally or spiritually. He says it makes him feel trapped. Plus, even though he's been estranged from his family for over a decade, he says having a wedding ceremony without them there would be too much to bear.

I understand his point of view on all of this, but at the same time we know at this point we want to be together forever, and I worry about legal troubles that could arise if we never got married. What about medical insurance? I don't have any, but he does through his job. I could be on his insurance if we were married. What if something happened to him, and he ended up in the hospital? We're not married, so his parents could swoop in and make medical decisions for him and I wouldn't be able to stop it. Same thing for children. We want to adopt, and it would be easier to get approved for adoption if we were married.

I've told him we don't need a fancy ceremony, hell I don't even need a ring or proposal. I just want the piece of paper that's basically a formality at this point because we've entangled every other aspect of our lives since we were old enough to drive.

He says me pressuring him about this makes him even more unsure about the idea, so I've stopped saying anything because the last thing I want to do is lose my person. But I still can't silence my anxieties and the little nagging voice in the back of my head: Why won't he trust me? What could I do to prove I'll never hurt him like his family or church has in the past? Haven't I already proved that by loving him unconditionally for most of my life? Or should I really just drop this and deal with these uncertainties on my own?

What are these acronyms?

[beanghostprincess]

I know we absolutely adore Sanji and Usopp being dramatic and all over the top, and it's just painfully obvious that if they got married they'd be all dramatic too. But-- After WCI, I think Sanji would have this thing with weddings,, He still likes them, of course. He wants to get married. Usopp was even concerned at first and wondered if he'd say no after what he had gone through, but he didn't. He said yes right away.

But,,, It's kind of like he forces himself to make it big and spectacular when there's no need to do it? Let me explain- Sanji tries hard to make the perfect, huge, wedding worthy of his dear sniper, or so he says. But he doesn't look too happy about it just- Stressed. More stressed than usual. He doesn't even look like he enjoys wedding stuff as much as he used to a few years ago (before WCI). Like they bring him back bad memories. So of course, Usopp has to confront him about it because there is no way he's going to let his boyfriend do that to himself.

Usopp asks him to tell him the truth about how he's feeling about all of this, and after insisting for a while, Sanji says:

"But it is supposed to be a grand gesture, right? It is supposed to be the day we show our love to the rest of the world and- And it has to be big. You deserve it, love. A grand gesture and- And I can't even choose the shitty flowers because my mind instantly fucking goes to that day and- I'm sorry. I'll just- I'll do better-"

"I don't need you to do better, Sanji. You're already doing so much. Too much, actually. We're doing this for us both, not for me only. And especially not for the rest of the world. I don't even like to be the center of attention for long! I know I say I do but my hands get all sweaty and I start shaking like a damn flan! You could make me sign a piece of paper right now that says we're married and then give me some cake and I'd be the happiest man in the world. So don't,,, Don't go through this for me just because you think I want to. You don't need to prove your love to me if it makes you suffer along the way. I already know how you feel."

"You mean it? Because I seriously don't know what flowers to choose and it's. Fucking killing me."

"I like daisies but- But that is not the point. I don't care, Sanji. Just- Breathe and. And we will figure something out, okay?"

So then you have two of the most dramatic men in the world getting married in the simplest of places (their ship) with only a bit of decoration (that Chopper, Nami, and Robin helped with), music provided by Brook, rings made by Franky, and the whole thing being officiated (of course) by Luffy. So it is not that big or spectacular or whatever. It isn't even long and they quickly wrap it up so they can go have the feast Sanji makes (which is actually the one thing he was excited about).

[highfantasy-soul]

Quick list of things I particularly loved from NATLA Episode 3 - Omashu before my in-depth overview

The whole rebellion inside the Fire Nation - love seeing EVERYONE fighting back

"I think that's what they said - I never listened." ^_^

"What makes you think we're outsiders?"

"We ARE Fire Nation, even out here"

"Irrigation, am I right?" :D

Aang darting through a crowd messing up everyone's day - just straight from the animated!

And the first tease of the cabbage merchant!!!

Our Gaang wasting NO time after the explosion to run in and help

Bloodthirsty Teo ready to recruit Aang to carpet bombing the Fire Nation - yet another example of children's morals and sense of self being warped by this war

How proud Teo is of his father!!

Sokka being able to show his interest in tinkering and engineering!!!

And did I spy some ECLIPSE glasses????

Aang's "no, I'm not going to just leave people in trouble, I'm going to stay and help them any way I can" moment

"He's done the impossible" in the most mocking voice imaginable! XD Adore that Azula isn't afraid to mock her father

And Mai and Tylee cameos!!!!

And the Yuyan archers! So many hints to the future here

Katara practicing her waterbending forms even in the background - really showing that she's taking every opportunity to hone her skills - she's not just perfect immediately

JEEEEETTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!

Honestly first thought cart-boy might have been Haru, but once he caught the Mechanist meeting with the spy, my Jet senses started tingling

Jet's combat - perfect! Katara's skills - growing!!

LOVE how there's such a marked upgrade in Katara's control from her single ball of water and big splash of last episode to her controlled twin water ball attacks

Jet's bird-whistle signal

I started giggling maniacally, knowing what was coming!!

And that DAMN piece of straw XD

Sokka saying 'No, my role is to be a warrior and protect the village' with the most heartbreaking look on his face as he sees the skills he truly loves being devalued (or the perception that their devalued) and then Sai reassuring him and his frown turning into a hopeful look on the verge of a smile. Seriously, my heart, guys

Chills every time Smellerbee throws up her hand and shouts "Freedom Fighters!" and the whole camp cheers - really you see how they're a family, a community, healing together the best way they know how

Honestly, everything with Jet is great - him actually giving GOOD advice to Katara, making him a real person rather than someone who only cares about himself - I believe this Jet actually cares about Katara the person, not just Katara the weapon

Also the fact that there's only the small hand-brush as a romantic gesture, the rest of Katara and Jet's interactions keep strictly platonic - nowhere near as charged as all Sokka's interactions with Suki and Yue

Katara's mom smiling in the sunrise D;

Zuko's annoyance at Iroh loving the city XD

And Lotus tile reference!!

Sokka's paper bird!!!

And oooohhh here comes the fighting!

Such a great choice to pit the Mechanist (Sokka) against Jet (Katara) where they're BOTH bad! This isn't a one sibling is right scenario - both their new allies are doing bad stuff! Very juicy and great plot thread/theme weaving

"To prove you're a jerk!" "Oh yeah, well I don't need proof of that!!"

Cabbage merchant tease #2!!

SSCCAARRRFF ZUUUTTAARRRAAAAAAAAAAA

"This guy - again?" *rolly eyes*

Sokka's first mad plan!! Riding the crates to the palace!!

The Zuko/Aang fight - beautiful, stunning, stylized, classic

Zuko being beaten by a woman furious that he's hitting a child

"YOU READ MY DIARY!!!!!!!!" sorry, "YOU HAVE MY NOTEBOOK!!"

MY CABBAGEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!!

Water HAWHIP!!!!

Iroh's first firebending in the show is him using it to draw attention to him so Zuko can escape :( not to harm anyone, but to protect

Aang's little "Uh oh o.o"

This was the first episode where it ended and I thought "I HAVE to watch the next one RIGHT NOW"

Damn you cliffhangers

[Masterlist of my NATLA thoughts]

[crownmemes]

A Touch of Frost Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sentences from A Touch of Frost (1992-2010). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"We've always done things together. Why does that suddenly have to stop?"

"You're always going to let me down. In your heart, you just don't want the commitment. It's as simple as that."

"I thought it was going to be okay. I thought I could make it work. If I could make it work with anybody, it would be with you."

"I was just kidding myself. We both were."

"With all due respect, sir, we all make mistakes."

"I'm not a coward; I just want to survive."

"This isn't a properly convened interview, so when you painfully bang your head after slipping on this recently washed floor, no one is going to know about it."

"I love you. I've just got a funny way of showing it, that's all."

"If you make a mess on your own doorstep, you're bound to slip on it."

"If I read every piece of paper that landed on my desk, I'd never be able to get out from behind it!"

"You prove how clever you are on your own patch. This is mine."

"Maybe there's nothing worth protecting in your life. I'm not ashamed that there is in mine."

"I do hope that you will be able to remember a few things. I do tend to come down rather heavily on people who are holding things back."

"I was just wondering if, um- If you might like to come out for a drink with me sometime?"

"One of the golden rules of detection is if you don't find something, keep looking."

"You know, you should be very careful when you make allegations that you can't substantiate."

"Are you going to read me my rights?"

"Don't you ever leave me alone with her again!"

"Now, whatever you do, don't get excited."

"Would you consider having an affair with a married man?"

"Do you ever imagine what it's like to die?"

"I got shot once. It makes you think about death."

"Skinny dipping isn't a crime, you know."

"None of us go on forever."

"I'm going to hit you so hard that pretty face of yours will be marked for life."

"I don't always like the way you do things, but whatever our disagreements, I have the highest regard for your integrity."

"There's nothing off the record in any investigation of mine."

"I'm not here to make deals, or to listen to threats."

"You have to trust people that you work with - unless you have a very good reason not to."

"If you bring disgrace on this family, you will regret it."

"Were you born cold-blooded, or is there some sort of transfusion you can get on the NHS these days?"

"Do you enjoy threatening people?"

"A man doesn't have to be brave to pull the trigger, but he must be brave enough to face the consequences."

"If this is a war, we're not winning."

"The more you know about people, the more you appreciate dogs."

"Have I told you what a great pleasure it's been working with you again?"

"There are lots of things that I wish you hadn't had to find out about."

[itookyoudown]

hi hello so I was thinking about Givenson right & it kinda spiraled so here have this somewhat unhinged headcanon:

I love Married Givenson, but also I love Basically Married Givenson too as in they're clearly in love & committed to each other they've just never bothered with the paperwork & so I imagined Tim picking up a young Willa from a playdate or school or something & when the adult in charge asks who Tim is in relation to her Willa just says "he's our Tim" as tho it explains it (bc to her does) & Tim being well Tim instead of clarifying by saying he's Raylan's partner or boyfriend, he says something ridiculously untrue & it causes a bit of an incident that Raylan or Winona has to clear up but it makes Willa laugh so it becomes a game between the two of them for like years just coming up with increasingly weird or ridiculous answers esp as Willa gets older ("he was a feral child raised by rabid squirrels that my dad rescued once so now he looks after me to pay off his life debt" "rabid squirrels was a nice touch" "thanks figured wolves would be too much of a cliche for you") & it drives Raylan crazy but he's also a little bit weak for seeing his 2 favorite people having fun together so he mostly just lets it go (except for the time Tim straight up says "I'm her daddy's sugarbaby" & it causes more chaos than Raylan was prepared for, the worst of which is trying to find a way to explain to his 8yr old what the hell a sugarbaby is while Tim is in the background trying & failing to hide his laughter).

But then maybe, for the angst of it all, one or both starts to worry or get insecure that maybe not being married does bother the other?? Like Tim wonders if Raylan wants it but doesn't want push or pressure Tim so he's just like settling & Tim isn't giving him enough?? Or something?? Throw in the always present worry in the back of his mind of whether he's doing right by Willa & it becomes a whole Thing for a bit but eventually they talk about it & it winds up being lovely and sweet actually ("I don't need a piece of paper or a ceremony or hell even a declaration to know what you are to me. I don't mind one way or another, so if it's important to you then it's important to me. And sure there's some logistical things I guess that it would make easier. But you don't have to prove anything to me or anybody else. I'm yours and you're mine, and as long we both know that, that's enough for me. I swear to God, Tim, that's enough for me.") Willa just chucks a pillow at his head & rolls her eyes like "you're ours Tim, you always have been, so what if no one else outside of the family understands what that means because you're not technically my stepdad or whatever, we know what we mean to each other so stop being stupid and worrying about it" or something like that & Tim doesn't cry or anything but he smiles & hugs her & laughs when he sees that Raylan's maybe a little misty eyed so naturally Tim & Willa tease him for it because giving Raylan a hard time is their favorite pastime. (Tho Willa definitely uses the "he's my daddy's sugarbaby" line at some point when she's older because she thinks it's hilarious & Raylan nearly chokes on his coffee & Tim just throws his head back & laughs).

sorry this is so long & rambly & is probably silly & out of character maybe idk & like if it's super weird to just dump this in your inbox but I was overcome with Givenson feelings & thought of you so um yeah here???

not weird at all. i'll always approve of givenson in my ask box. sorry it took me a while to get around to answering though, my life has a lot of ups and downs and it was super down for a while. but i'm happy to finally have the time to share this with the givenson gang :)

everyone come feast your eyeballs on this fluff!!

i'm of the belief that tim would never take on a fatherly role to willa (she already has Raylan and Richard for that). he seems much more the type to be the non-judgmental but responsible adult figure that willa can confide in when she hates her parents or is scared to tell to them something. and i don't think tim would be "uncle tim" or anything like that either.

he's just tim to her.

the idea of him being HER tim is super cute ngl.

[dotster001]

Enemies to Lovers part Four of however many it takes for my coworker to Love Vil, by God, stop being stubborn

Summary: Azul kidnapped Vil to offer you a job?

A/N: okay, I'm so excited about next week's part of this lmao. Haven't started writing it yet, but hopefully when you get to the end you'll see why I'm so pumped

Part one. Part Two. Part Three. Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven. Part Eight. Part Nine. Part Ten. Epilogue.

You couldn't believe it. Azul kidnapped Vil just so he could offer you a job. It couldn't be good whatever he was about to offer.

"What kind of job?" You said, trying to appear as calm as possible.

"I'm glad you asked!" Azul pulled out several pieces of paper and placed them in front of you. "You see, dear prefect, we have spent the first half of our summer break undoing what you did. We cannot have your dorm for the second location of the Mostro lounge. That's fine. We moved forward, and purchased some space. We've had a building team on it, and are expecting it to be up and running by the second week of the new school year."

"What does this have to do with me? Or Vil for that matter, you literally could have just called me, I'd probably have shown up."

You heard Jade snickering, and Floyd giving what sounded like a pouty hmph. You chose to ignore them.

"What this has to do with you, dear prefect, is I need a manager at the second branch. You've proved yourself more than capable, despite your magical…limitations." He gave a smirk and pushed his glasses up his nose. "As to why Schoenheit is here, well, if you don't know, it's not my place to say."

Cryptic bastard.

"There's gotta be a catch," you said skeptically.

"I'm quite offended that you think so!" He didn't look offended at all. "I make it my business to hire good workers, and you happen to be one of them. We are prepared to offer you a salary at least double that of your current job, as well as help renovating your dorm. No worker of mine will live in a condemned death trap."

You bit your lip, thinking. It sounded too good a deal to be true. You looked at Vil, who just rolled his eyes. So helpful you thought.

"Alright, you win," you said, "but I want a back out clause in my contract just in case things go wrong."

"But of course!" Azul drafted up a contract, then handed you a pen. Once you signed, he extended his hand to you, and you shook it.

"It's a deal."

                                 ….

"956, 957, 958"

"Vil I'm sorry! If I'd known you were one of those psychos who brushed their hair 1000 times, I swear I wouldn't have messed it up! Just forgive me already!"

"965, 966, 967,"

You put on your best angry face, stood on your tip toes, and messed up his hair again.

"Gah! Why do you do these things!" He dropped the brush in exasperation.

You couldn't help but giggle. "It's fun to tease you," your face took on a more serious look. "Hey, I'm sorry you got caught up in all that."

Vil gave you a thin smile. "Do you really think the twins could take me down? Please," he rolled his eyes. "I was curious what they wanted, so I let them 'kidnap' me."

You suddenly felt angry. "You jerk! I was worried to death about you, and you just willingly went with them? You scared the shit out of me!"

"There's no need to be so upset, my sweet potato." 

Was he… giggling? Seriously? He was giggling at your  angst!

"Vil Schoenheit, you are an absolute jerk!"

He giggled again. His giggle was so sweet. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and gave them a reassuring squeeze. 

"Would you prefer if I say I was actually kidnapped, and that I have you to thank for being my savior?"

"Yes," you muttered with a pout.

He cupped your face and squished your cheeks together, making your pout protrude even more.

"Thank you, My beloved Y/N, for saving me from the evil Octavinelle trio," he said with mock bravado.

Suddenly, you were very aware of how he was holding (squishing) your face. Then you noticed how close he stood, and how beautiful his relaxed smile was. You could feel your face burning so you pulled away.

"Anytime. You can make it up to me by taking tomorrow off so we can spend time in the spa," you looked at him, and saw his smile falter a little, "Unless you're scared of a little relaxation?" 

He scoffed. "Of course not. I will speak to my manager about it immediately."

                               ….

You were  getting a pedicure while Vil was getting massaged. You recognized the masseuse as the one that helped with your back. As she continued Vil's massage you over heard,

"How's that shoulder doing, hun?"

"It's fine," Vil groaned.

"Wait, what's wrong with your shoulder?" You asked.

"Nothing. Early in my career I injured it on set. Instead of getting it looked at I kept trying to work through it. Our darling Angela here helped me work through the worst of it, but whatever I did to it, never fully recovered. It bothers me now and then, which is why she's on our home staff."

"Is that why you made me get my back fixed early?" You asked.

"Mhm." Vil hummed. 

The masseuse, who you now knew was named Angela, finished up with Vil, and he joined you for his own pedicure.

He looked so relaxed. So at peace. 

"I think you should take more days off," you said. 

"Why?" He snorted. "I thought you learned your lesson after we went to the beach to 'relax'."

That had been so long ago, you had almost forgotten. But you couldn't let one failed experience get you down. You would get him to relax.

"You are definitely overworking yourself." You said. "If you want me to not overdo it, then you have to practice what you preach."

"Are you threatening me by telling me you're going to overwork yourself?"

"Is it working?" You giggled.

Vil sat quietly for a moment and then sighed heavily. 

"I will schedule one day a week for the rest of the summer where you will lead a relaxation session for me. In exchange, at the end of the summer there is an awards show. I have been invited as an audience member, even though I haven't been in any films recently, and I need a plus one." He stared pointedly at you. "That will be you. Do we have a deal?" He smirked.

You did your best Azul impression, "It's a deal."

                                   ….

On their first "relaxation day" Vil arrived at your door at the crack of butt. He had knocked heavily on the door, waking up both you and Grim, leading Grim to start yelling at both of them.

By the time you were actually able to answer the door, you were already debating quitting before you had started. Then you saw Vil standing patiently at your door, trying to hold back his excitement. The poor man needed to learn to relax, and by God you were going to help him.

"Alright, sweet potato. What are we doing today?" He asked.

"Well, I was thinking we could go on a hike and have a picnic at the end."

"Excellent, I assume you are almost ready?" He asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, I won't be long," you groaned.

Once you were ready, you went out on your hike, all alone except for nature. Vil used the opportunity to playfully quiz you on ingredients you'd used for potions that he had taught you. He was beaming with pride that  you got all of them right, and your heart fluttered that that smile was just for you.

They chose a place to have the picnic. Once they were both settled on the ground, you pulled out the food, which was just sandwiches, really, but the piece de resistance was the apple pie you had found at the bakery near your job. 

Vil let out a satisfied hum as he ate his slice, "I think, for our next relaxation day, we should make one of these."

"A pie?" You questioned.

"Mhm.  I've never really had the opportunity to just bake something," he said, violet eyes looking at you with a sweet innocence.

"Alright, next week then…"

                                  ….

Over the next week, you had received more information about your new job at the secondary location of Monstro lounge, and Vil had gone out to do…whatever it was he did. You tooootally didn't care. Nope. Not at all.

You'd forgotten all about the promise to bake on relaxation day. Vil hadn't.

Just as on the previous week, he was at your door bright and early. This time though, Grim was much more excited, considering you wouldn't be going outside, and you  would be working with his favorite thing…food.

The entire time you were baking, you found yourself mesmerized by Vil's every movement. You realized this was probably second nature to him, considering potions were not so different from baking. He sliced the apples as though cutting through butter, he mixed the crust with trained movements, and he baked it to perfection. He was just so….

"Perfect," Vil said, eyeing the finished product. He glanced at you, eyes flashing with something you couldn't pick up. "Thank you for doing this with me."

"You did most of the work," you laughed. 

He smirked, and looked away, humming as though he knew a secret.

                              ….

The next week, you had learned your lesson, and we're up early.  However, things were different when he came to your door.

"We have to change our plans today. The time has come to pick the new Pomefiore housewarden. I think you should come with me."

You tilted your head in confusion, "why?"

"Because, Epel is up for the running, and I'm sure he could use his favorite people for support." He turned to leave, before looking back at you. "Text Deuce and tell him we'll pick him up on the way."

Tag list: @stygianoir @da-disappointment

[mariana-oconnor]

The Three Students pt 2

We are in (probably) Oxbridge and have a potential cheating scandal (quelle horreur!), three suspects and a "forgetful" servant who left the room to the papers unlocked.

Our suspects are: the hardworking 'manly' scholarship student (who needs the money), the Indian student (who knew the papers were there and may need the grade, but didn't get a lot of description so I think we're mostly supposed to suspect him because racism and opportunity??) and the rich lazy kid (who needs the grade because he hasn't done the work).

Place your bets, please.

“I should like to have a peep at each of them,” said Holmes. “Is it possible?” “No difficulty in the world,” Soames answered. “This set of rooms is quite the oldest in the college, and it is not unusual for visitors to go over them. Come along, and I will personally conduct you.”

You just let random strangers into your students' rooms?

There were some really curious pieces of mediaeval domestic architecture within. Holmes was so charmed with one of them that he insisted on drawing it on his note-book, broke his pencil, had to borrow one from our host, and finally borrowed a knife to sharpen his own.

I love how even in his later accounts, Watson pretends not to know that Holmes is putting on an act. Yes, he was taken with the architecture, this had no ulterior motive and absolutely wasn't to scope out the pencils and knife of the student. It was purely architecture-based enthusiasm that led to this.

The same curious accident happened to him in the rooms of the Indian...

Really? The same thing happened in that room!?

Also, I'm not going to bother comparing the descriptions of the two students because that way lies racism and I think we can all see it.

Only at the third did our visit prove abortive. The outer door would not open to our knock, and nothing more substantial than a torrent of bad language came from behind it. “I don't care who you are. You can go to blazes!” roared the angry voice. “To-morrow's the exam, and I won't be drawn by anyone.”

Honestly, good for you. They've got no business coming into your room anyway. And also, good for you for studying (if you're telling the truth) I don't remember your name random rich student, but so far as actually meeting you goes, I fully support you. Keep that door closed. Fuck the lot of them.

“A rude fellow,” said our guide, flushing with anger as we withdrew down the stair. “Of course, he did not realize that it was I who was knocking, but none the less his conduct was very uncourteous, and, indeed, under the circumstances rather suspicious.”

Or... not suspicious because he's the only one actually studying when there's an exam tomorrow that seems to be vitally important. (Sure, he might not be studying, maybe he has someone in there with him... in which case, also good for him, I guess).

“Can you tell me his exact height?” he asked. “Really, Mr. Holmes, I cannot undertake to say. He is taller than the Indian, not so tall as Gilchrist. I suppose five foot six would be about it.”

You what now?

He has a name! I don't remember it right now because you haven't mentioned it yet this section (I also don't remember the rich kid's name), but he has a name. You literally teach him. You know his name! Seriously? Seriously?

(His name is Daulat Ras, I checked the first part of the story. If it turns out to be him (which it won't because it's Gilchrist who doesn't appear to be studying even though he clearly has the most riding on this exam) then I am hereby pre-emptively pardoning him on grounds of his teacher being shit because he cannot be bothered to remember his name.)

Our guide cried aloud in his astonishment and dismay. “Good gracious, Mr. Holmes, you are surely not going to leave me in this abrupt fashion! You don't seem to realize the position. To-morrow is the examination. I must take some definite action to-night. I cannot allow the examination to be held if one of the papers has been tampered with. The situation must be faced.”

Calm down, my dude. It's really not the end of the world. Have a sit down, get a glass of brandy. Keep the brain fever at bay.

“The foul-mouthed fellow at the top. He is the one with the worst record. And yet that Indian was a sly fellow also. Why should he be pacing his room all the time?”

Thank you, Watson, for validating my suspicions by disagreeing with them. I always feel better about my ideas when they don't match yours. No thanks for the racism, but at least you didn't just choose Ras, and you're also giving a secondary reason for suspecting him.

“He looked at us in a queer way.”

... ahem.

“So would you if a flock of strangers came in on you when you were preparing for an examination next day, and every moment was of value."

Also that.

“Why, Bannister, the servant. What's his game in the matter?”

IKR, Holmes, you get me. You understand. Clearly the guy is overly worried and who walks all the way across the room to sit down when they're feeling faint.

But Bannister would have to be working with someone. Either one of the three, or a hypothetical fourth student he is related to. He could be related to Gilchrist, I guess. (What is rich boy's name? I still can't remember, luckily I am not his tutor, so I don't have to feel bad about it.)

“He impressed me as being a perfectly honest man.”

Watson, my sweet summer child. Apart from all your many faults, biases and prejudices, you are so naive and trusting.

All were agreed that one could be ordered, but that it was not a usual size of pencil and that it was seldom kept in stock.

Does Bannister have, like, some illness that means he can't hold standard-sized pencils? Arthritis of some kind? But everyone seems pretty sure that he's not directly lying about anything. Unless he is cunning and running a whole business of copying translations then selling them to students.

"By Jove! my dear fellow, it is nearly nine, and the landlady babbled of green peas at seven-thirty. What with your eternal tobacco, Watson, and your irregularity at meals, I expect that you will get notice to quit and that I shall share your downfall"

Yeah, Watson. This is clearly your fault. How dare you! The poor landlady making you peas when you're dragging Holmes out to stationers at all hours. You should be ashamed of yourself.

At eight in the morning he came into my room just as I finished my toilet.

Yet again, I know toilet had a different meaning, but picturing Holmes walking into the bathroom while Watson's literally sitting on the toilet and the two of them carrying out a perfectly normal conversation is hilarious to me.

"I have put in two hours' hard work and covered at least five miles, with something to show for it. Look at that!” He held out his hand. On the palm were three little pyramids of black, doughy clay.

Ah yes, the random clay, which all I can think of is putty eraser or some sort of carbon copy thing.

“You will kindly close the door,” said Holmes. “Now, Bannister, will you please tell us the truth about yesterday's incident?”

Yeah, Bannister. Are you secretly the head of a cheating ring?

“Well, then, I must make some suggestions to you. When you sat down on that chair yesterday, did you do so in order to conceal some object which would have shown who had been in the room?”

Ah, yeah, that makes sense. Whoever did do it was kind of rubbish at covering their tracks clearly this is not something they do often.

“There was no man, sir.”

So it's either a girl, or Odysseus...?

He was a fine figure of a man, tall, lithe, and agile, with a springy step and a pleasant, open face.

Seriously, Watson, we get it, you think he's hot. You've been very lonely since your wife died. You don't need to describe how hot he is every time we see him.

Wait, it was the tutor who had that weird use of 'manly' the first time around, wasn't it?

If Gilchrist turns out to be a girl in disguise that line is going to be so funny.

"We want to know, Mr. Gilchrist, how you, an honourable man, ever came to commit such an action as that of yesterday?” The unfortunate young man staggered back and cast a look full of horror and reproach at Bannister. “No, no, Mr. Gilchrist, sir; I never said a word—never one word!” cried the servant.

Well now you have. People really need to get better at committing crimes. After it's happened, you know nothing about anything. No matter how much people ask or how much they claim to know, you know nothing. You are blissfully ignorant of the whole affair. What affair? Oh, someone's cheating? How terrible!

“No, but you have now,” said Holmes.

Is this the first documented use of this trope? Because it can't have happened much before now.

The Indian I also thought nothing of.

His name.

Is.

DAULAT RAS!

"Such an idea was absurd. I was measuring how tall a man would need to be in order to see as he passed what papers were on the central table. I am six feet high, and I could do it with an effort."

So all Watson's descriptions were just to point out how tall Gilchrist is? That's all?

"He put his shoes on the table. What was it you put on that chair near the window?” “Gloves,” said the young man.

Dude. My dude. You wear the gloves. I know this story was published a year before the first use of fingerprints in a criminal case in England, but my dude. You do not leave your gloves on a chair.

“Yes, sir, I have, but the shock of this disgraceful exposure has bewildered me. I have a letter here, Mr. Soames, which I wrote to you early this morning in the middle of a restless night. It was before I knew that my sin had found me out. Here it is, sir. You will see that I have said, ‘I have determined not to go in for the examination. I have been offered a commission in the Rhodesian Police, and I am going out to South Africa at once.’”

...well that's a twist.

You're seriously going to leave the country and go be a colonialist police officer in Africa. Because... you cheated on a test. Leaving the country seems a bit extreme.

"Time was, sir, when I was butler to old Sir Jabez Gilchrist, this young gentleman's father. When he was ruined I came to the college as servant, but I never forgot my old employer because he was down in the world. I watched his son all I could for the sake of the old days."

So not related to him, but associated with him. Yeah, that tracks. Servants are so loyal in these stories (apart from when they aren't, I suppose).

Another person called Jabez.

"As to you, sir, I trust that a bright future awaits you in Rhodesia. For once you have fallen low. Let us see in the future how high you can rise.”

I mean... I'm not entirely comfortable with this turn of events. I feel like 'police officer in the colonial British Empire' is pretty low, in the grand scheme of things.

And I never was reminded what the rich kid's name was, and I think I'm going to leave it that way. ACD needs to stop forgetting character's names, it makes it far too easy to guess who the culprit is. Also, it makes all your characters more racist.

Is it that guy, that guy, or Mr Diddit?

Next time, The Solitary Cyclist, which is one of my favourites, so I probably won't be speculating as I've read it a lot.

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter 15 - Cozy

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London, March 1922 Tommy called me when he got back to Birmingham. He said that although he was beaten, it was nothing serious and I didn’t need to worry… I held the phone and rolled my eyes. Believe it or not, you are a big liar. I muttered in my mind. We two fools always like to hide our true situation in front of each other, report good things but not bad things, and then continue to talk in silence Pay for each other.

"I may have found Polly's son, Tommy." I looked at the piece of paper in my hand. This was the Senate President I sponsored to help me. Got it. "Unfortunately, I haven't found Polly's daughter yet, I guess, um…she…but I'll keep looking of. " I held Tommy's arm and walked down the country road. "We haven't walked together like this for a long time." I sighed. I'm feeling suffocated in London these days. "here It looks good. We can buy a house in the countryside to retire in the future. "

"I have to buy another manor. You don't know. Turner Manor is in Yorkshire. It's as cold as a ghost house in the winter. I'll watch the cows." The house in Jin is pretty good. Imagine that, Tommy! Living in the countryside, not far from the city, the air is fresh and life is comfortable. Has its own flower field and horse farm. In the spring we can ride horses through the flowers. Not only can I ride a horse, I can also ride a horse. As for hunting, I can take our children hunting…" Tommy just listened seriously as I chattered about my wonderful ideas for the future.

I just leaned against the fence in the back and watched Tommy negotiate with the boy's foster mother and listened to his nonsense. He is the person responsible for the agency in the Birdsley parish of Birmingham City Council. The adoptive mother, Mrs. Johnson, must have loved the child very much and treated him like her own son. If it weren't for Polly, I couldn't bear to separate the mother and son. But this kid at least has the right to know the truth, right? But I couldn't help but wince when I heard Mrs. Johnson say that Polly smoked opium and tortured and beat her son. eyebrow. I can understand her feelings, but if she really said that to this child, it would be really vicious.

Mothers love their children, and most of them spoil their children - my brother ended up being the one with De Xing and me. It cannot be said that his mother's doting on him in his early years was completely irrelevant. We had been discussing for too long outside the yard, and Mrs. Johnson’s panicked look also caught the boy’s attention, and he turned to me.

They come over. "Your real name is Michael Gray, and your biological mother wants to meet you. Her address is written on the back of this business card. She wants to talk to you. " The boy looked first at Tommy and then at me, with the look of a boy who had just graduated from Cambridge and entered the London social scene. My head is blue, just like the look in Tommy's eyes when they saw me for the first time. I have seen this kind of stunning look too many times. But it seems a little different…

His eyes slid from my face to my ordinary clothes, and finally landed on my hands. The rich and powerful in London know that Turner The baroness's favorite jewelry is the ocean blue diamond ring given to her by her fiancé Thomas Shelby, which she will never leave. 6 carats The aquamarine is dazzling and dazzling under the embellishment of diamonds. I think the kid has made plans. When I got home, I sat on the sofa in a daze. This boy will definitely identify his biological mother - because of Tommy's clothes today and the car and the diamond on my hand. Precepts can prove to him the wealth level of this new family. But what if he knows what we do? Can he still accept his biological mother? If you accept it again For what reason? If it was because of money, wouldn't it be even more terrifying… "I'm in a daze again." Tommy always liked to just wrap a towel around his waist after taking a shower. He stood behind me with his bare chest and kissed my neck son. This makes me feel very itchy, but he always said that my neck is as graceful as a swan - "It is a piece of art." Taste, dear. "He said while kissing me at the time. "I wanted him to accept Polly, but I didn't want him to." I looked up, trying to get support and recognition from Tommy's eyes. "It's human nature to yearn for better living conditions." Tommy tried to comfort me, but I always felt that Twist. But I don't want to speak anymore. While Tommy didn't draw any conclusions, we all knew Michael was going to return to Polly. The matter is settled. I didn't want my words to drive a wedge between Tommy and his new cousin. Big deal I'll just pay more attention in the future.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never had to worry about food and clothing since I was a child, but I couldn’t understand that boy’s straightforward and passionate desire for fancy cars and fancy clothes. he I have certainly never experienced hunger or abuse in this home. As long as the residents of Birmingham have his living conditions, they also Not going to be a prostitute, a gangster, or go on strike. Tommy sensed that I was feeling down and used himself to please me. I lay under him obediently, following his movements Breathing and emotional. "I miss you……" "Me too, Tommy…"

But actually he didn't have to do that. I will continue to support every decision he makes. He is my fiancé, the man I know I want to spend the rest of my life with. We will have quarrels and conflicts, but love binds us together and we will always be one. We want to meet Supporting each other throughout life. Afterwards, we lay together and talked about politics as usual. "I wrote to Mr. Churchill," he said, before There was a cigarette stuffed in his mouth. I took the cigarette away from his mouth and stared blankly at the thing in my hand.

To be honest, I kind of want to blame him for killing him first and telling him later. For the greater good, now I have to stay with Churchill A neutral attitude with Tommy won't help Tommy much, but at least it will allow me to maintain my current political status. This will prevent me from losing my right to speak in London in the future. "What's wrong?" He hugged me, turned over, and faced me. "Tommy, you can't trust anyone. Whether it's Mr. Campbell or Mr. Churchill, especially Churchill, he's a Politician, Tommy. I spent the first fifteen years of my life surrounded by politicians, I still support them, I care about them Too understanding. " I was a little incoherent and wanted to explain it to him as soon as possible, but the more I talked, the less I understood. "They're a bunch of people… You can't believe any of the promises and benefits they give, you know, you've got to be on your toes all the time.

You are nothing in their eyes, just a knife that can be replaced at any time. As long as they think you are disobedient, Or if you know too much about dealing with them, they will get rid of you without hesitation. Kill the donkey, you know? Borrow the knife, huh, huh…" Tommy silenced my chattering mouth with a kiss. "I know, honey." Our foreheads touched. Although I didn't say it explicitly, I felt that his blue eyes saw my concerns, and then he didn't blame me. Generous and gentle.

But his understanding only made me feel uncomfortable and blamed myself. I separated from him and returned to London in order to be able to help him more; now that I am a baroness, I can do nothing to help him. What he can do for him is not as much as Liz Stark. I could only stay in London, watching Tommy's shoulder The burden is getting heavier. I don’t know much about the mission Churchill assigned Tommy, but he did so for different reasons. They all clearly didn't want me to know. Arthur's emotions are in trouble again. How can such a person control the overall situation? return

There is Polly’s son and daughter, and I should have been the one to tell Polly about these things… But now, apart from my body, what else can I use to prove my love for him… "I love you, Tommy, I love you…" "You will never be dispensable, Diana. You will be Mrs. Shelby. I never love you because You are useful. "Half asleep and half awake, I heard Tommy whispering in my ear. My eyelids were so sleepy that I couldn't open them. Now, I fall asleep quickly only in his arms… I turned over and arched into his arms. "I love you, Tommy…"

"2050 guineas? What did you buy?" Thomas Shelby never bargained, and this time he didn’t bring enough money to the auction house, so he directly filled in my address for credit. he There is no need to tell me in this way, I am very useful… I took out 2,200 pounds directly from the drawer. "With the remaining money, I will buy some news. Is there anything else interesting today?" A mysterious lady bids for Tommy, and Sabi's men want to assassinate Tommy but are beaten to a bloody pulp by Arthur. I took out another 300 pounds and pushed it to the people at the auction together with the previous coins. "Please send someone to kill that assassin.

Send him to Scotland Yard, saying he attempted to assassinate Baroness Turner's fiancé. Well… remember to send him to Green Prison. One hundred pounds is the management fee, and the rest is your extra income. Please come to my house as compensation. " The child arranged by Tommy was brutally killed by Sabi's people in Green Prison, and then Tommy arranged to shave the child. The knife gang members went to jail. This happens to be a good opportunity for revenge. I am a very vengeful person. I still remember that

That night Sabi's men pointed their guns at me. I also remember that I seemed to have said that I would exchange Sabi's fingers for Tommy's. Ya… this time it was his subordinates, next time it will be his turn. "Cut off his little finger. Which hand? Cut off whichever hand he uses to hold a gun." "Why?" I sneered into the phone, "Sir, if this person ever broke into your house and pointed a gun at You, I'm afraid now it's not just as simple as cutting off your little finger. " Tommy's expansion plan is going very smoothly, his methods are clever and ruthless, and he can't find a single fault on the surface, but secretly he has me.

political umbrella. Sabiri could only send more people to monitor me, seeing me as a breakthrough to defeat Tommy. mouth. But whatever he did, Tommy came to London to spend more time with me, and sometimes he would bring John and the others to eat and drink. Drink, or entertain his other "friends." "Are you so eager to let them see Mrs. Shelby in advance?" I sat in front of the mirror, smiled and put on Jane's clothes. Bead earrings. "Who is our distinguished guest today, Mr. Shelby?" "Miss May Carleton." He played with my hair. "…Ha, another ignorant girl who was fascinated by Mr. Shelby?" I'm a little jealous. Good guy, Thomas actually invited people to his home.

Thomas accompanied me to a banquet half a month ago, and then Baroness Turner’s handsome fiancé became a Londoner. A celebrity in the social scene. Even if he is not a politician or a nobleman, those aristocratic ladies and young women think that He is just an ordinary young businessman, mysterious, handsome and generous. But these days, it smells like ink A bulging money bag is much more attractive than an old manor with a musty smell. Although the social season is over, the holidays If I break up with Tommy tonight, the lady who comes to sell her daughter to him early tomorrow morning will be able to break through his door. sa Billy should hire them. I felt like I had just eaten a big pot of freshly grown wild cherries. My heart felt sour and bitter, and I couldn't help but look at him sideways. Tommy came up behind me and put the diamond necklace around my neck. He pressed my shoulders and looked at me in the mirror I. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you in advance. Miss Carlton is very influential in the Jockey Club."

"No sex trade?" I looked back at him. "No sex trade, Mrs. Shelby." He leaned down and kissed me. Miss Carlton is not as beautiful as I thought. Even after being carefully combed, her hair is still as wooly as straw Rough, her bright brown eyes were as watery as a horse's. She looks like Tommy spent a fortune at auction The beautiful little mare I bought for the price—I don’t know why this metaphor came to me. But I have to say, even though it was only at first sight, I quite liked her. She is different from those shallow and squeamish noble ladies. At the same time, maybe it’s the temperament brought up by the old aristocrats, maybe it’s the gentle strong aura in her body, let me know

The son took a liking to her. When we meet our opponents in chess, we cherish each other. I haven't felt this way since I came back from Berlin when I was 10 years old. We were more communicating at the dinner table, talking about horses, hunting, men, how to manage industries, and the latest politics. policies and the politicians who make them. Tommy couldn't get a word in, and he just kept refilling our glasses from time to time. I drained my glass of rum before enjoying dessert. I think my face should be a little red, but who cares? I It’s been a long time since I’ve had this kind of joy of meeting a close friend.

I took a spoonful of the brownie and felt sick when I brought it to my mouth. I thought it was because of drinking. for Maintaining the Baroness's demeanor, I tried to remain calm, restrain my body's reaction, and stay away from the plate of delicate snacks. Tommy silently handed me his untouched plate. He never likes desserts, so he uses dark chocolate imported from Belgium The brownies made with strength were one of the rare things he could accept. I dug in another spoonful, which only made me feel worse.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." After saying that, I quickly covered my mouth and rushed to the toilet. I almost threw up my entire dinner. I feel dizzy and groggy, and I can only stand steady by holding on to the sink. "What's wrong?" Tommy opened the door, supported me, and let me lean against him. "I don't know…" Why does he smell so strange tonight…

[donnerpartyofone]

i find you unimaginably cool and ive expressed to you before on anon the sentiment that i feel a deep kinship towards you for how you speak so candidly abt your own stupidity (pls dont take that as me calling you stupid) bcuz i feel exactly the same way abt my own stupidity and hate when ppl try to talk me out of it but ANYways i just saw your post abt writing a novelization of splice and i am literally reeling. i love that weird ass movie so much and i think writing a novelization of it is one of the most off the wall and amazing things ive ever heard of. i hope that you will share when it is published bcuz i cannot wait to read it. pls know that someone out there understands you (or at least understands you as best as someone can thru this parasocial lens of tumblr and how you choose to share yourself there) and that someone out there thinks you are basically what i hope i can be when i grow up. thank you for sharing. thank you for articulating yourself as well as you do (i too have the itch to tell you you are not stupid but bcuz i know how it is i wont do it but besides that, i think you are one of the clearest and most well articulated writers ive ever encountered online or elsewhere). sorry, this all feels insane to type. im off two tallboy ipas and i just think youre great.

Dearest Correspondent,

Oddly enough, just the other day somebody liked an older post of mine, and when I clicked on it to remind myself of what it was, the next post down was your last message. Anyway, thanks! The whole novelization business is really funny. Do people even know what they are anymore? I didn't know anybody still made them until I was hired to do SPLICE. I used to get them from the drugstore sometimes when I was a kid because my parents were very uptight about what I watched, but they wouldn't be caught dead restricting anyone's reading habits. During my initial conversation with the SPLICE publisher, we kind of bonded over our memories of the CHILD'S PLAY 2 novelization, of all things, that seemed to help me a lot in addition to my ideas about what SPLICE should be like on paper. I tend to think of novelizations as just another piece of merch, but when you write them, I don't know, like you really have to live out the movie in your mind over and over again to figure out what the characters are experiencing physically, environmentally, how their emotional experiences affect their bodies, etc. You have to fill in the blanks of what they think and sense just enough to make your transcription convincing, while staying within certain bounds to honor what the filmmaker meant to say. SPLICE started as kind of a lark for me, and then almost immediately it became extremely personal; when I was nearing the end of my first draft I thought, "OK, well, I guess everyone is about to find out how insane I am." I was afraid it just sounded "crazy" and wouldn't be what the publisher was expecting. But after I turned it in, the surprise encouragement I got from actual-Vincenzo Natali was pretty amazing, so maybe it's good! Maybe you really CAN'T tell how crazy I am, and it's just very entertaining. You'll have to wait and see.

Parasocial relationships are tricky, huh, especially here on tumblr dot com. The best thing you can do for yourself is just be very aware that they are happening within you, a test you seem to have passed. I think a lot of us come here seeking understanding of our weirdest parts, but the more you put out there to find the people who get what you're saying, you simultaneously get a lot of reminders that most people have no idea what you're talking about. There will be people who seem to hate you because they've misunderstood you, and there will also be people who love you but whose interactions prove that they have absolutely no idea what you're communicating. I recently culled a bunch of followers because they were just creating a lot of noise, even though they may have meant well, and I was losing the clarity I needed to keep doing this. I started to see every post as a worrisome opportunity to find out how poorly people can possibly read me, and suppressing the urge to re-explain myself every day was becoming exhausting. And ironically, around the same time, I was briefly mutuals with one of my favorite bloggers ever, and just as I thought we were becoming chummy, they unfollowed me. I didn't freak out, actually I just unfollowed them back because I was concerned about being annoying, but I did have all kinds of Thoughts about this event. I have spent a lot of time reviewing what my projections were about that person, and what my personal investment in their narrative says about me. I think there could be something good to get out of this audit, even though the whole episode is sort of embarrassing. But Tumblr definitely gives you a lot of opportunities to examine your own filters, clean them out once in a while, and get to know yourself a little better--even if other people seem to be getting to know you a little worse! You just have to stick to your own course and see what comes of it.

Uh. What the hell was I saying. I don't know! But I appreciate your messages, I feel "gotten" by them. Some of the follower upheaval recently did involve the way that I process my experience of my own stupidity out loud on here--like I know that sometimes folks are trying to be helpful by contradicting me whenever I sound "negative" (read: realistic), but being told (by strangers) how to feel about yourself and that you're wrong about your own experiences is actually really awful, confusing, frustrating, and undermining. So I don't mind being reminded that my signal is coming through for at least some people. I hope you're doing good this holiday season. I wonder what beers you had, they sound fun!

Good tidings to you,

C

PS Isn't "on here" a weird phrase? I always feel like a primate when I say it, but I have yet to find a different phrase that conveys the same thing as accurately.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat: Genesis —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: Back to my favorite nerds -Danny

Words: 1,270

Phase Six Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘The Archer’ -by Taylor Swift

xxii: Visitors

"Now, I know what you'll say—"

"Shit!" Harley dropped the pad he'd been holding and stared at her in shock. "Who the hell are you?!"

Cat turned around in his desk chair and spoke with a serious face. "The mother of your unborn child."

Harley frowned. "What?"

"Or at least that's what the ladies at the front desk think," she stood and took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were brown. "I'm back, Junior."

His confusion turned into anger. "You think you can just show up like this?"

"Listen—"

"Do you even know how worried I've been?" He approached the desk ignoring the iPad on the floor. "It's been months, Cat!"

"I know."

"Kurt almost died!"

"Harley," she spoke in a calm voice. "I almost died too."

The young man's eyes got teary, he breathed heavily. "And the last time we spoke you didn't even let me say goodbye."

Cat tried not to get affected by his words. "I thought you were safer this way... Russo will go after you if I don't go to him soon. That's why I'm here."

"He knows you're not dead," he guessed with a scoff. "No one thought you were, I was expecting you to show up, but I thought it'd take longer."

"Right. I'm happy to see you still love me, makes me think all the torture was worth it," she replied sardonically.

He let out a dry laugh. "You never learn, do you? After everything that happened, you're still making jokes."

"You should be glad I'm joking," she replied plainly. "Things go south every time I get quiet."

Harley stared at her new scars, his tone softened. "You'll tell me what you've been up to or do I have to beg?"

"Actually, that's the reason I'm here," she gestured for him to take the seat in front of her. "You must know by now I was in the middle of something before I vanished, right?"

"The lab was not real, right?" He replied, sitting down at the same time as her. "Our former investor was the victim of fraud."

"Kraven went to my house when I didn't show up."

"I know, then what?"

"This guy knows me," she leaned back on Harley's chair. "And Kurt. Our weak spots, and our inner circle. But Kraven needs Russo, otherwise, he'll be out of resources. I took his years ago when we blew up the labs."

"So you're going after Russo first?"

Cat nodded. "I don't think he's that hard to beat by himself, but with the power broker gone, my sources tell me he's trying to kill his way to the top, and he's smart enough to achieve it."

"Your sources?"

"Yelena," she clarified. "Russo's doing everything in his power to get the throne, one of his tactics is telling people that he took down a gorgon. And since no gorgon has shown up to prove him wrong..."

"But he wants you to, he's taunting you so you go to him," Harley frowned. "You're not going to fall for this, are you?"

"You don't have to worry about Russo, what I want you to do..." she slid a piece of paper across the desk. "Is contact agent Ross. He's De Fontaine's ex-husband and eager to help us unmask the woman that sent him to jail for treason."

"There's a lot of baffling information in the sentence you just said..."

"I'm about to drop more, so pay attention," she leaned forward. "I'm giving you Bucky's number, Captain America's—"

"I thought he'd blocked you?"

"He did," Cat smiled. "But the princess of Wakanda gave it to me after I helped her save her country."

Harley fell back on his seat. "Sweet Jesus... you've been busy."

"I was there as her hype woman," she brushed it aside. "Anyway, send them all of our research, and inform me of how the mission evolves while I'm away."

"Where are you going?" He asked hesitantly.

"Nightcrawler and I will go after Russo," her expression darkened by her anger. "We're not going to be chased out of our home again."

"So I'm supposed to help the winter soldier and Captain America take down half of the US government?" He asked in disbelief.

"Oh no," she got to her feet and circled the desk. "You'll butt out as soon as you give them our research."

"What!"

"You didn't want to be a part of it in the first place!" Cat exclaimed, laughing a little. "You've done enough, Junior. And you have enough on your plate, running a company like Stark Industries..."

"And what will you do after you find Russo?" He pressed.

"I'll rip his head off," she began to walk away, but Harley caught her wrist.

"I'm thankful to be left in peace for once, and I'm happy to see you, Stray," he told her. "But I wished you didn't bring your suicidal tendencies to every mission you take."

"I'm not," she eased him. "I'm cleaning my to-do list before I start working again."

"Working?" Harley dropped her hand. "Doing what?"

"Recruiting," she smiled. "I'm bringing the Avengers back."

Cat was on the rooftop, looking at the sky without knowing what to expect. She didn't know if she was meant to be looking for the Guardian's ship, or if Kurt would teleport there once she called... would he be angrier than Harley?

She heard Spider-man as he landed, and she spoke to him without turning to see him. "But if it isn't my favorite menace!"

He laughed. "You're back!"

"Of course, you know I'm like the plague."

He sat beside her on the ledge, his back to the city. "How've you been?"

"Okay," she leaned sideways to face him. "Keeping my hopes up."

Peter pulled out a piece of paper from his utility belt. "Your boyfriend left this for you."

It was a picture of Cat at the welfare building, they tended to take photos of the crew every few months to keep it up to date, she was standing between May and the guy that had made the felt hearts for the teddy bears.

"He's not my boyfriend," she seized the image.

"You look happy in it."

"Don't," she glared at him.

Spidey shrugged, looking straight ahead. "I'm just saying."

"I don't wanna hear it."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm obviously gonna tell you to choose me," he tilted his head.

"It's not you."

"I know... but it's something. Better than nothing. An 'if'."

"I doubt we'd get a white picket fence in his world," she pointed out.

"I hope not! That was our plan, not his," he replied, and she could almost see him pouting. "But it was never about the dogs or the house, it was about being together, and I think he really wants that."

"That's beside the point," she responded, feeling uncomfortable. "You want me to leave 'cause I'm in danger, but I'll push back just like May told me to. Besides... didn't you say that had been a game to you?"

Peter shook his head. "You didn't remember it and Kate was pretty bummed out that she wasn't your first on all those things."

"You don't think that we were bound to break?" She asked, voice changing slightly.

Peter looked around, taking it all in. "Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't," he admitted. "But I love you too much to risk what we have now, even if part of me is dying for a second chance."

Cat faced the city so he couldn't see her blush. "If you were to ask, I'd say yes."

The young man laughed. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

He tilted his head, analyzing her expression. "This is hilarious," it was hard to tell what he was thinking with the mask on. "I believe you'd say yes, I know why you'd say yes," he hopped off the ledge, ending the conversation.

Because it's easy, she thought. Cat groaned and thrust the picture into her pocket. "Get off my rooftop, you're killing the mood."

Spider-man patted her shoulder and wished her a good night, then swung out of the building.

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae​​​​ @ieatpanicattacksforlunch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jesuswasnotawhiteman​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @siriuslysirius1107​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @greengarsstuff​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @itsyagirl01 @23victoria​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @espressopatronum454​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jkthinkstoomuch

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

has a maths paper and i was daydreaming about asking rametto the question of why they eventually forgive celia for all the bullshite shes pulled and him having to answer honestly. and oughhh...

'its not forgiveness, you don't forgive a dog for biting you when it thinks your a threat, you don't forgive a equation for giving you the answer you don't want, a model for proving you wrong. you understand them- understand why- and know they couldn't have done anything different.

maybe that is forgiveness, but to me forgiveness implies choice, they had a choice to hurt you, and you have a choice to forgive them, when there was no such choice for us. she made the decision she did, and im tired of being angry, of wishing something that killed its ability to change could change, could change the past, for me.

i know Celia loves me, and that why she did what she did, why she hurt me so. because its not that she didn't love me enough to not hurt me, its that she loved me enough to ruin my life, to tear me away from my family- for my own good.

there was always enough love, but she cant change, not for me, not for Cecio, not even if her mother walked among the living again, she would take the hate, take the blame, and walk the same path she does now, hurting us to keep us safe, its all she knows, and its what we need. the world hasn't changed much since she was a hurt child, but we can see her flaws because she make it easier for us, even if it means breaking our hearts and killing our dreams.'

translation: i don't forgive him, but i made my peace with what hes done. yea my dads a piece of shit but also he did what he thought was the best choice and the fucked up thing is he was right. he loves me but he cant change, not anymore, not even for me, not even for the people [i think] he loves more. he loves me to give us the chances he never had, but all it costs us is everything woe would have taken from us anyway.

anyway<3 father-child dynamics<3 hey rametto did you eventually give up on hating your father and instead came to understand him. and find out how much worse that is<3

[brexiiton]

Terror attack survivors condemn compensation body

Respondents to the survey included those who survived the Manchester Arena bombing in 2017

By Michael Sheils McNamee & Graeme Baker

Survivors of terror attacks in the UK have described the government's compensation scheme as "broken" in a new report.

More than 130 survivors from 11 attacks were surveyed by support network Survivors Against Terror.

Respondents included survivors from the Fishmongers' Hall stabbings in London in 2019, and the Manchester Arena bombing in 2017.

A government spokesperson said "we know more must be done" to address needs.

More than two-thirds of survey respondents said they felt the scheme was "unfair and unreasonable".

The Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority (CICA) has been in place since the 1990s, and handles claims from people who have suffered physical or mental injuries as a result of violent crime in England, Scotland and Wales. It is sponsored by the Ministry of Justice.

300 seconds on London Bridge

Extremist loner who targeted Jo Cox

Echoes of Hillsborough for Arena families

More than half of survivors surveyed said they felt unable to speak to someone from CICA for help and some 60% did not feel it was easy to submit their compensation claim - and that the information provided by CICA was unclear or not easy to understand.

Of the survivors asked, 62% did not feel treated with respect and empathy, compared with 17% who felt they were.

Saskia Jones and Jack Merritt were killed in the 2019 attack at Fishmongers' Hall

In 2019, the government committed to a new Survivors' Charter which would guarantee rights for survivors to mental health and legal support, something Survivors Against Terror said has not happened.

Some members said they were still waiting for compensation, with one reporting that their file had been lost.

Joanne McSorley, who was hit by 31 pieces of shrapnel in the Manchester Arena bombing, told the BBC that she had been "degraded" by being repeatedly told to prove the severity of her injuries.

She said she had been offered £25,000 after a process that took six years.

"I am housebound, really. I can't even put my own shoes on, or my coat. It is a life that's very, very different," she said.

"I put my faith in the systems and in the government. This was a terror attack, so I thought, well of course we'll be looked after. But that didn't happen.

"I feel totally degraded by the process because you're having to prove all the time you are still in that state.

She added that she had to give up her job at a local primary school, "I loved it. I was a busy, working mum. A full life. And now, I feel like I'm just existing. I feel like I am being punished.

"I don't think you should have to apply for something. It should just be there," she said. "No-one has got in touch to ask me 'How are you?' They don't care. It's just not fair. No one cares.

Darryn Frost, who used a narwhal tusk to fend off a terror attacker in Fishmongers' Hall in 2019 and was involved in the survivors' survey, told the BBC that the CICA system was broken.

"It's a paper-based postal system, where you're in total darkness, you don't know where you are in the process," he said. "And they keep asking for more evidence. You feel like you're on trial or scrounging."

Mor Frost said he experienced "over a year of total silence" from CICA and that the only "proactive" contact he had came in a phone call after he had appeared on the BBC in November.

He added that the government response to the survey was a "disgrace".

"We're quite clear about the things that are falling. It's really not rocket science. This is how terrorists win - when we see that our own country can't look after our people."

Greater transparency

The report calls for a new compensation authority to be overseen by the Home Office with greater transparency in how awards are calculated and an ability to track them online.

A government spokesperson said it was "right survivors get the support they need, including through the publicly-funded Criminal Injuries Compensation. Scheme that has paid out more than £158 million to victims of violent crime in the last year alone".

They added: "But we know more must be done, which is why the government is reviewing the support available, to better address victims' needs."

It said this included £4.6 million for victims of terrorism since 2017.

The government said 836 of the 859 applications in connection with the Manchester Arena bombing had been finalised, with 436 of the bereaved or injured receiving criminal injuries compensation.

Brendan Coz, who co-founded Survivors Against Terror after his wife, Labour MP Jo Cox, was killed by a far-right extremist in 2016, said:"An organisation that is supposed to be helping survivors recover and rebuild is instead consistently doing them harm.

"If the organisation had poor processes and procedures but scored well on other areas, there would be hope for reform. There is not."

[familyvideostevie]

steve fic request!

set in the future when they’re married, steve is (irrationally) worried about being a good father (due to his own fraught relationship with his parents). just some fluff as reader reassures him pls.

thanks!! <3

here you go, dove! thank you for waiting, i hope it's what you wanted, i tried to focus on that fluff and reassurance! i love steve, he'd be a great dad < 3 | 1.6k, fem!reader, fluff, cw: vague discussion of steve's parents being neglectful, talk of having children in general

You stare at the ceiling from where you lay on Steve's chest to avoid catching sight of the boxes, halfway unpacked suitcases, and fresh sheets scattered around the bedroom. Steve's hand strokes up lazily up and down your arm. You can feel the cool metal of his wedding band every so often, which makes you smile. You didn't know you could feel this happy. Married for over a month, and it hasn't faded. Most days you think it never will.

The fall wedding was sweet and small, and afterwards you drove up and down the East Coast to catch the leaves turning.  There are so many things to be done now that you're home, in your own house no less. You bypassed the boxes and attempted to start on your luggage, but you got as far as washing and drying your sheets before you both collapsed on the unmade bed.

"Being an adult is weird as shit," Steve says. You bark out a laugh. "Seriously, babe, we're like, almost 30."

"Not quite, Steve," you chastise. "Don't rush us!"

"Well, it's weird. We have a house. We're married. We have to decorate." He says the last one like it's tart in his mouth. "We have to go back to Hawkins this week to pick up some stuff we forgot from your parents." You decided to leave the apartment you'd been sharing in Hawkins behind, settling an hour or so away. Close enough that you can go back anytime, since neither of you think you'll ever really shake it after everything, but far enough that it feels like your own world.

"We'll have to go at the weekend since we both have to do this adult thing called work." Your hand rests flat on Steve's chest, and you give him a little pat as if to get up, but his hold on you tightens.

"Don't remind me. I don't want to talk about real life yet."

"This is the life, Steve," you grin. "It's our life. Can you believe it?" Your voice sounds a little breathless. You tilt your head up at Steve, your husband, and he meets you for a tender kiss. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but each one with rings on your fingers feels special. You lapse back into silence, content to be close to Steve like this as long as you can, even if the bed does need to get made at some point.

"I miss the kids," Steve whispers. He sighs.

"They're not really kids anymore," you reply, keeping your words soft. "They're in college, spreading out, growing up. Just like us!" Steve grunts in reply. "I miss them, too," you reassure him.

He plays with the fingers of your left hand where they rest on his chest, ghosting over your wedding band. You feel the mood shift, feel him start to gather his thoughts for a serious conversation. You let him take his time.

"I'm so glad we got married because it doesn't feel like it changed much, you know?" he starts. You could tease him a little for this, but know that he's getting to something important, something he needs you to hear.

"I think so, but tell me more anyway."

"Well," he continues, "we've been living together for a million years, I've loved you for even longer, and now we just have a piece of paper to prove it."

"And a house, Steve," you say with fondness and a little bit of awe.

"And a house." He sighs again and gently shifts you both onto your sides, so you're face-to-face. You scoot back a little to see him more clearly.

"What's this about, Stevie?" you whisper, bringing your hand to stroke his cheek, just once. The touch seems to give him courage.

"Do you think I'd be a good dad?" he croaks. You don't try to hide your surprise. You've talked about having kids, often and with enthusiasm, albeit a few years down the line. But you've managed not to touch on this part of it.

"Steve," you say, breathless, hand cupping his jaw this time. You are desperate to reassure him, to squash the insecurity in his eyes. "Steve, of course you'll be a good dad. Shit, sweetheart, you have been a good dad."

He sighs at your words but closes his eyes, scrunching his nose like he's about to sneeze. "I dont... I've been thinking about it. Now that we've started a new life for ourselves. Just all the ways I can fuck it up."

"Steve," you whisper. "Look at me, please." He opens his eyes and they're glistening just a little. It makes you ache to see him like this, to see him doubting and hurting. "What's got you worried?"

"I just don't know how I'll love them right, you know?" He sniffles a little, turning his head so your thumb drags down over his lips. His breath is hot on your skin as he continues. "I'm worried all I know how to do is what my parents did and that's not nearly enough. It's not what our kids would deserve, or what you deserve."

"Steve Harrington," you say firmly. "I want you to listen to me." You wiggle closer, shrinking the space between you again as you tangle your legs with his, hand still firm on this face, the other coming to rest on his heart. "I hear you, baby, and I get it. It's so hard to shake the shit that we get from our parents and our families and our pasts. And you have more than most of us. But I'll be damned if I've met a man more caring, more loving, more self-sacrificing than you." Steve doesn't look away from you, though his mouth starts to curl at the edges because you sound so determined to make him listen.

"You were so quick to give your life for those kids back when they were kids," you continue, "and you loved them immediately because that's what you do Steve. You love people with everything you have."

"S'why you married me, yeah?" He's aiming for a joking tone, but it comes out a bit raw. You nod.

"One of the millions of things I love about you. But listen to me, and this is the important part."

"Getting out my notepad," he jokes. You pinch his cheek gently but continue.

"It's so hard when we don't get the love we are owed from the people who are meant to give it to us, but it's even harder to choose to be so full of love anyway and to give it away so freely. To be as good as you, Stevie. You love those kids and they love you and that will exist for the rest of your life. You love me and I love you and that will exist for...for the rest of eternity." You feel your own eyes start to well as you keep going. You just need him to know this.

"You will love any children we have through space and time and all the rest, until the world ends, Steve," you finish. Steve's own hand comes to your cheek to swipe away a tear. You brush away its twin as it drips down his own nose.

"Pretty big promises, baby," he breathes. "But how can I argue with those pretty words? What would I do without you?"

"Cry less, maybe," you croak out.

"More," he says. "I'd be missing so much." His eyes pour over your face as if he's memorizing it, as if he's drinking you in and can't get enough.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you ask. He's nodding immediately.

"Anything."

"I'm scared too," you admit. "To be a parent." Steve knows your baggage, and he's always loved you through it, with it, because of it. "No one is perfect, but--"

"You're as close as it gets," he interrupts. You hush him, giggling a little.

"No one is a perfect parent, no one is a perfect child, but if there's one thing you know how to do, Steve, it's love. And I think as long as we do that, we'll figure it out." Steve pulls you to his chest again and rolls onto his back, where you started.

"It'll be hard, but we'll do it together." He takes a deep breath and you rise and fall on his chest. "Parenting can't be harder than a freaky alternate dimension full of shit that wants to kill us." You laugh again, feeling warm and fuzzy. You shift up to his ear, your lips almost on his skin.

"You're going to be a great father, Steve."

"Yeah I--thank you. I believe you." He turns his head to brush his nose against yours, hand finding your ring again to trace it with his fingers. "I'm so lucky to call you my wife."

"My husband," you whisper. He shivers a little. "My Stevie. Love you so much." You kiss the first part of him you can reach, your lips landing somewhere on his brow, before settling back on his chest. You are reveling in the sweetness of this moment, of all of the moments before, and all of the ones to come. Life is hard -- you both know that for certain -- but you can't help but look forward to all of it because you've got Steve with you.

"I can't believe we have to unpack all of our shit still," your husband groans. You smile into his shirt, overcome with how much you love him.

"Tomorrow," you say. Right now, you want to put fresh sheets on the bed only to dirty them again right away. You want to kiss this man silly. "We have tomorrow."

"Thank christ for that," Steve says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[moonctzeny]

Can I request WayV reaction to you suddenly avoiding skinship/intimacy because you don't feel attractive anymore after they rejected you once? (they were tired or just not in the mood at that time)

WayV reaction - you avoid intimacy out of insecurity after they rejected your skinship

warnings: WinWin's gets a tiny bit suggestive, alcohol consumption

▪️Kun

He looked so good when he cooked. You couldn’t stop your eyes from following the veins on his arms as he cut the various vegetables in the smallest of pieces. Your fingers ached to run across their length so you let them, stroking the little hairs in the opposite direction from their growth in the meantime.

“Y/n, not now”, he whines with a strictness in his voice that has you withering away from him.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the cooking, watching Kun in silence until he finally put the dish in the oven to cook. He walks over to your seat on the countertop, fitting himself between your legs. His hands find their place on each of your shoulders, making their way down to your elbows lovingly, yet you go rigid at the feeling and back away from his touch.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Do I annoy you sometimes?”

Kun’s eyebrows shoot up at your question, dropping his hands immediately to wrap them around your wrists instead.

“Never. What makes you think that?”

“You seemed pretty annoyed at me when you were cooking earlier”

His face stays frozen for a second, trying to figure out what exactly you were talking about. You’re taken aback when he starts to laugh light-heartedly, planting a kiss on your pouty lips.

“I didn’t tell you to stop because I didn’t like you touching me, baby. I needed you to stop because I liked it too much”

▪️Ten

You avoided his kisses like the plague. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into you, usually your nights visiting his dorm consisted of the both of you cuddling each other to death, napping in sheets that smelled of him and inviting the cats that snuggled between you. However now, the more he tried to approach you, the more you scooted away from him, and your excuses were starting to run out.

“Are you avoiding me or something?”

You shake your head negatively, avoiding eye contact so that he doesn’t see through you. But Ten is intuitive, especially when it comes to you, so he repeats the question again until he gets a sigh as an answer.

“You told me off pretty badly when I tried to kiss you an hour ago you know…”

“When I was drawing? You pushed my hand on accident and I missed like, half of my work!”

When he sees you continuing to be visibly upset at him, despite his light and teasing tone, he lifts your hand from your lap to his lips, kissing your wrist, then your palm, then your ring finger.

“I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t”, he leans over to peck your lips mid-sentence, and his voice is too soothing for you to resist him, “You know how much I love to kiss you.”

As if to prove his point he brings you closer again, and he smiles into the kiss when he feels you deepening it.

“I could taste your lips forever”

▪️WinWin

▪️WinWin

Your boyfriend was never big on skinship and you knew. You understood his paranoia of holding hands in public, even with sunglasses and a big mask covering half of his handsome face. Being a celebrity isn’t easy and you had come to terms with that, but you didn’t know he would react so coldly to you in this private party with his members being the only ones invited.

You were a little tipsy, holding on to Sicheng’s arm for stability, and admittedly you just wanted a little love from your boyfriend. Pulling his hair out of his eyes, you pucker your lips at him, waiting for a kiss that never came.

“What is up with you today? You’re all over me!”

The drive home was quiet, your whole body facing away from him, eyes staring outside the window or anywhere else but him. You weren’t angry, just sad if anything else, and Sicheng felt he had enough when you started to storm off to your shared bedroom without him. A hand on your wrist stops you abruptly.

“Why are you like this? You’ve been quiet ever since we left the party”

“Do you not find me attractive anymore?”

The filter between your brain and mouth had vanished from the alcohol, shocking Sicheng with your candor.

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“You never kiss me in front of your friends. It’s like you're embarrassed of being seen with me…”

Your boyfriend’s eyebrows furrow, almost meeting on the base of his forehead before he pushes you up against the entrance door. The kiss he initiates is full of passion and something animalistic that you’ve always thought looks good on him. It isn't long before the hands that you so desperately needed on your body before formed bruises on the skin over your hipbones.

“The reason why I don’t kiss you in public is because I won’t be able to stop, not when you always look so pretty. And then I will make you look needy and breathless and messy, just like you do right now. I don’t want anyone else to see you like this. You’re too damn beautiful. You’re mine.”

▪️Lucas

Skinship and Lucas were synonyms when it came to your relationship. He loved getting to touch you at all times, whether it was a big, suffocating hug or just his large hands on the small of your back. You were barely awake when your boyfriend came back to your apartment, his busy schedule with SuperM keeping his side of the bed colder than you’d like. He didn’t even bother to wash up, just took his clothes off and covered himself up with your shared duvet and his chest facing your own. Satisfied with his mere presence, you scoot over, and lay one arm over his waist, bringing yourself closer. It was a shock to you when he turned to the other side, unwrapping your arm in the process and letting it fall in the space between you.

You decided not to address the incident that left a sting to your heart the next morning, spending the whole day with Lucas since it was rare for him to be free of any schedules. It was absolutely lovely, from the movie you watched to the homemade food you prepared for the both of you. Until the sun set again.

“Are you going back to your dorm now?”, you ask him while doing the dishes, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe you prefer sleeping in your own bed. Alone.”

Your back is facing him but you can sense the pout forming on his handsome features. You feel his body heat as he comes closer to you and wraps his arms around you, only for you to squirm away from his hold and pat your hands dry, leaving the sink.

“What’s wrong?”, Lucas asks quietly, his eyes doubling in size.

“It’s just that last night when I tried to cuddle you to sleep you avoided me… It’s okay if you don’t want to crash here you know-”

“Babe, babe”, he starts, taking your hands in his, “I was dirty and sweaty last night. I didn’t have the energy to shower and I felt gross. I would never reject a night with you”

“Really?”

“Really. Now how about we go to bed and I give you those cuddles that I owe you?”

▪️Xiaojun

It was rare to see Xiaojun be so frustrated with anything. He’d been sitting on that same spot of the bed for hours now, guitar propped up on his lap and a blank sheet of paper in front of him. You tried to relieve his stress anyway you could, massaging his shoulders, kissing his cheek every time he sighed. And while your boyfriend accepted them at first, soon you saw him bend away from your acts of affection, so much so that you were worried about whether you have angered him.

An icky feeling weighed you down when he kept ignoring you as time went by, realizing that today was not the day you’d get the quality time you craved from your boyfriend. Quiet so as not to bother him, you start to collect your things and pack them back into your bag, the sound of the zipper finally catching Xiaojun’s attention.

“Where are you going?”

“You seem busy. I’ll come by another day”

“No no no!”, he exclaims, swiftly pulling his guitar aside, “I was looking forward to seeing you”

“Well you don’t seem to want any love from me right now. We can reschedule our date night for another time”

You didn’t expect him to jump up on his feet so quickly, neither to pull you into a hug as tight. His words come out muffled from your hair that is covering his mouth as he kisses it.

“Don’t leave, please. I’m sorry I was ignoring you”

“No, I’m sorry if I overstepped your personal space”

You soothe out the wrinkles that have formed between his pretty eyebrows with your thumb, taking a moment to appreciate his warm smile before he brings you into a long kiss.

“I’m stuck on this song that I’m writing. Maybe I just need inspiration”

▪️Hendery

“Why are you looking in the mirror so much?”

In the span of the last hour you managed to feel insecure over your hair, your skin, your choice of clothing. You thought you were being subtle when checking out yourself, the reflection only making you wanna shrink even more with every quick glance.

“Do you still find me as attractive as you did when we first met? Like do you ever get butterflies on your stomach anymore?”

“Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?”

You sigh, rubbing your face in embarrassment. Being content in yourself was a challenge on its own, even more so when your boyfriend looked like that.

“When we first started dating we were all over each other. I wouldn’t even make it past your bedroom door before you kissed me everywhere. Ten called us disgusting all the time.”

“And?”

“And now it’s been an hour since I came here and you haven’t even touched me...”

Hendery sighs, and runs his fingers through his hair defeatedly. With a soft hand motion he encourages you to come lie next to him on his bed, cupping your face before leaving a kiss on your lips.

“When we first started dating I couldn’t believe you were mine. I had this urgency in me like I had to taste as much of you as I could. Like you would slip away from my fingers, but-”

“But?”

Hendery takes your hand in his, and starts a trail of shiver-inducing kisses from your wrist up to your shoulder, so slow that you thought he’d never finish his sentence.

“But I realized that it wasn’t fair to you. I want to love you like we have a lifetime ahead, not like our time is running out. I want to love you like you deserve, and I want to take my time”

▪️Yangyang

He was playing that damn video game again. Yangyang always looked so cute when he was concentrating so heavily, lips pursed in a pout and eyes following the different players on the screen. Desperate to feel the softness of his hoodie and comfort on his embrace you come closer to him, attempting to sit on his lap.

“He’s behind you! Shoot! Shoot!” You jump up from your seat along with him, wrapping your hands around his neck to keep your balance. “Babe not now! You made me miss the screen!”

Hurt by his sharp tone and volume of his voice you start to get up, hating the burning feeling of the fresh tears that begged to escape the corners of your eyes.

Yangyang’s grip on your elbow stops you before you leave his lap, a worried look painted on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“You know sometimes you get so into your games that you yell at me over nothing…”

His pretty face falls into a frown, whole body rigid and focused on your sad expression.

“Baby, come here”

Throwing one leg over his lap, Yangyang turns you around in his hold so that you’re facing him. His fingers pet your hair until you close your eyes in bliss, your breath slowing down until it matches his.

“You’re right. I’m so, so sorry if I said something that hurt you. Will you please stay here? You’re my lucky charm. My beautiful, lucky charm that fits right into my lap”

You smile at his sweet words, letting your head rest against his neck and enjoying the little backrubs he gave you until he felt you were fully relaxed. You easily fell asleep in his arms, your sweet dreams interrupted only from the kisses he left on your temples.