#i love the way people show they care about each other

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

In response to the Mile High Job post, I hate that Parker implies that poor flight attendant slept her way to a promotion/better shift. Her day is super weird but her cat is fine and her life is saved. That rumor, however, might stick and that didn't really feel like Leverage to me.

Agreed!

The thing with Leverage is that it's a show from the late 2000s; it feels contemporary, but actually it is a bit dated. And, like all shows, it had some problematic elements, which get a bit more Obviously Problematic as time goes by (I am just waiting for someone to write a lengthy call-out post in 5 years' time and for the Discourse to start.) For example, Tumblr loves to declare that Leverage has a "canon" throuple, but if anyone read that and then watched the show they would be profoundly disappointed - while it's a fantastic ship with a great many shippy instances, Elliot has a lot of onscreen No Homo moments, and frequently is shown sleeping with random women (I personally read him as aromantic). Similarly, there are two big relationships in that show: Nate/Sophie, and Parker/Hardison. And we all wax lyrical about the brilliance of Parker/Hardison and how healthy it is, and for good reason; but we gloss over how unbearably "I hate my wife/father I cannot click the book" Boomer humour Nate/Sophie is.

(He literally calls her a shrew in one episode. She throws a tantrum and sulks if he doesn't remember the exact details of how/where they met. She's stereotypically 'romantic' and he's stereotypically 'cynical' and she has to Save Him From Himself, and he self-deprecatingly says he should just know when to stop arguing because she's always right. Like... it is a grubby and uncomfortable dynamic; but, it's also aimed at a different segment of the audience that is older than me, and that's okay, actually. It just means I don't much care for the ship myself.)

Anyway, this is one other such instance. Clearly someone in the writers' room thought that was a funny joke, and not enough people disagreed, and so in it went. What's nice is that Sandi McCree, who plays the other flight attendant that stays on the plane, actually kind of saves that joke for me with her performance. When Parker first boards and declares that her co-worker is not coming in, McCree looks disgruntled at the sudden change to her staff list when she wasn't informed; she's annoyed at management. Then Parker makes the sleeping-with-pilots comment, and McCree looks disgusted and furious -

An expression she then pulls at Parker every time she sees her for the rest of the episode, even when Parker is technically not doing anything particularly weird. It's not necessarily intentional on McCree's part (Parker IS very weird in this episode, so it very much can be a response to that), but to me it means you can read it as "This woman is absolutely furious at the lateral sexism of this white girl because We Love And Support Each Other On This Plane." So, for me, between that and the aforementioned revelations of the day (the plane was brought down by the domestic terrorists of a Fortune 500 company, but saved by... a few unexplained Official People who snuck aboard??? And the other flight attendant was made to miss the plane after all under mysterious circumstances and was not promoted??? What???), I don't think Sandi McCree's character wouldn't put those pieces together.

[whetstonefires]

Thinking about the parallels set up between Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu, and how actually most of them are oddly specious.

The sketch of the backstory lines up, but on close examination they're mirror images.

Wei Wuxian wasn't kicked out of his sect, he left it. Wei Wuxian didn't hate the house he grew up in, he loved it, and getting the people there killed was the absolute last purpose for which his dark powers were ever intended.

Jiang Cheng was no Mo Ziyuan--his jealousy was a complicated thing all twisted up with love, and while he would lash out at Wei Wuxian both as a casual means of shit communication and more damagingly in moments of high tension, he had neither the desire nor the ability to bully him, and in general respected his boundaries almost too well.

When Wei Wuxian destroyed himself about Jiang Cheng, it was to give him cultivation, and protect his life and happiness. He would never have killed him.

Madam Yu was a domineering aunt-like figure, who hated Wei Wuxian for reasons of reputation, and because she had resented his dead mother, but she crucially did not have the power to actually disrupt his lifestyle to any significant extent.

Mo Xuanyu was shut up in a small room to rot; Wei Wuxian didn't even attend classes unless he wanted to. Mo Xuanyu was weak and disliked; Wei Wuxian was brilliant and popular.

Mo Xuanyu's uncle is a cipher of a figure, without character or agency, a nonentity who is resented to death apparently mostly for what he didn't do; in theory he is the master of the house, but he certainly never protected his wife and son's punching bag from them.

And this is what got me thinking along this track: because people keep interpreting Jiang Fengmian as this, as exactly like Mo Xuanyu's nameless uncle, a nonentity who lets his wife make all the decisions, and is contemptible therefore.

He shows up in fic characterized this way all the time, handled narratively as a gap rather than a person, an absence where there should have been a parent, and it's...totally inaccurate? The man only has a few scenes but the things that are most firmly established about him are:

he regularly goes out of his way to protect Wei Wuxian

he's extremely fond of Wei Wuxian

he cares a lot about ethical behavior

he's conflict-avoidant and gentle

he can and will overrule Yu Ziyuan when he's made up his mind, and there's nothing she can do about it

his communication skills are mediocre at best

he doesn't understand jiang cheng

he has a dumb sense of humor

Now almost none of this made it into cql besides point 4 and maybe 6, 5 is technically there but buried by the cinematic framing, so I totally get why the fandom on the whole struggles to characterize him well, and it's easier to write him off.

But it keeps bugging me to see him and Yu Ziyuan squashed into the mold of the Mo, because not only is that boring and reductive and kind-of-missing-the-point, it's like. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng's characterization suffers a lot when you alter the environment and take away the influence exerted by their shared father figure.

Jiang Fengmian was Wei Wuxian's primary adult role model and it shows.

Jiang Cheng's relationship to his own sense of ethics is fraught because 'teaching him good ethics' was his dad's number one parenting goal, but they misunderstood each other so badly (partly because Yu Ziyuan kept loudly misinterpreting them to each other, which is so realistic I can't get over it, that's exactly how it works good lord) that Jiang Cheng has a direct association between the concept of 'doing the right thing even when it's hard' and a feeling of personal inadequacy.

The fact that Wei Wuxian got their dad-person's approval for being exactly himself and Jiang Cheng not only couldn't do that, he couldn't even get that same level of approval when he really pushed himself to rise to expectations, because Jiang Fengmian did not intend that warmth as a 'reward,' and so never realized he was withholding it, and therefore misunderstood Jiang Cheng's visible jealousy as a dangerous sense of personal entitlement that had to be carefully restrained, which reinforced his distrust of Jiang-Cheng-the-person and fed into a shitty loop where they were less and less able to relate to one another--that's fantastic. That's so human! I love it so much.

Both their failures are their own but at the same time it would never have gotten so bad if Yu Ziyuan hadn't been interjecting herself in there, in the middle of their relationship, fucking it up. That's family, baby.

I would ofc like if there was more fic engaging with the subtleties of all this because it's so good, mxtx did such elegant work here and it is not sufficiently appreciated. But it's the kind of thing that's hard to write good fic about; I am struggling with it myself.

So mostly I wish there was just more fic that didn't impose Mo Xuanyu's cliche angst backstory on Wei Wuxian, who has a whole different thing going on.

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH2024 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheek. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals!

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 

@burntheedges @jolapeno @la-eterna-enamorada29 @iknowisoundcrazy @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @helenanell

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 

@noisynightmarepoetry @kyberblade @beezusvreeland @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack 

@pedrospatch @yopossum @toomanytookas @sawymredfox @galway-girlatwork

@ppascalrain @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @milla-frenchy @schnarfer

[cravingpepsimax]

since he’s beginning to spread, here’s a rough timeline of events for the fujo bill au:

bill is defeated and is put in the theraprism

after who knows how long, bill begins coping with his spite and rage towards stan and ford by doing/making stuff that he thinks they’d hate.

he begins “shipping” stancest. bill doesn’t really GET the incest taboo, it seems pretty much entirely arbitrary to him, but he knows it exists and is something humans are REPULSED by. thus, he starts making stuff involving stan and ford dating each other. theraprism staff thinks it’s odd but him writing books about stan and ford kissing is significantly better than him writing books in an attempt to escape.

over time, bill starts getting actually invested. it may have started as pure spite, but he begins to remember things that, oh boy, sure do seem pretty incestuous, now that he thinks about it. at first, it’s funny — “HAHA, WOW, SIXER REALLY IS A FREAK, ISN’T HE?” — but then it becomes real.

since bill’s calming down and is no longer talking about wanting to murder the entire family 24/7, theraprism staff decides to move onto the next step in bill’s karma program: becoming pen pals with one of the people he used to terrorize. mabel’s a lot like bill, but not evil, so the theraprism staff choose her.

meanwhile, a 13 year old mabel gets a Crazy Paranormal Experience, in which she is told what’s going on. mabel agrees to be bill’s pen pal (he won’t be able to do any actual harm, and, worst-case scenario, it’d be funny to mess with him (note that, even though mabel’s 13, well over a year has passed for bill — time is merely a suggestion for beings as powerful as the theraprism staff)

bill HATES being made to do this stupid pen pal stuff. he can’t use it as a way out — the theraprism staff have been keeping a VERY CLOSE EYE ON HIM ever since the book, and it’s gonna be hard to trick mabel into doing ANYTHING for him. so, his first few letters are him insulting and trying to upset mabel, who doesn’t really seem to care at all.

eventually, in one of bill’s pieces of hate mail, he says some shit like “SIXER AND HIS BROTHER ARE REAL FREAKS, KID! WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY’RE DOING ON THE STAN O’ WAR II? I’LL GIVE YOU A HINT: THE ANSWER’S ‘EACH OTHER’!”

mabel promptly ignores the rest of the letter entirely, and makes a GIANT response excitedly going “oh my gosh, you noticed, too??”, and listing everything romantic she’s ever noticed about them.

bill responds, filling in some gaps here and there, telling her about some incestuous stuff from 30+ years ago, pointing out things she missed, pointing out things he missed (“WOW, THEY DID WHAT? TALK ABOUT NEEDING TO GET A ROOM, YEESH.”)

they become stancest gossip buddies from there. mabel fujopills him in other regards (bill never thought he’d watch a show called “ouran highschool host club”, much less at the request of a 13 year old who thinks the pair of twins kissing would be hot/cute, but hey, afterlife’s full of surprises, ain’t it?) but his main love is and always will be stancest

they eventually become close enough and the theraprism staff trusts them enough to get interdimensional phone call privileges. any time anything happens mabel calls him and goes “oh my gosh, you’ll NEVER guess what just happened!” and they gossip for like an hour

stan and ford are completely clueless as to what’s going on at all. i like to imagine they find out eventually but it takes awhile LMAO

[mossyvil]

Omg congrats on the milestone! For the very cute fluff alphabet may I have H, J, E, N, S, F, M, and L (leona)

love him

Hold: how physically affectionate are they?

he’s actually very clingy! it gets worse when he’s sleepy cuz he wants to use you as a pillow, but even when he isn’t he likes to be touching you in some way. hand holding is an easy way for him to get his affection, so he’s usually doing that or he has his tail wrapped around your wrist when he’s unable to hold your hand

Jealousy: are they jealous? what things set them off?

leona is pretty confident in your relationship. it stems more from his trust in you than anything, he knows for certain you would never betray him for someone else, so he really has no reason to get jealous. if someone is obviously flirting with you and doesn’t take the hint that you’re not interested he absolutely will get them to leave you alone, but that’s just because he wants to make sure you’re comfortable

Everything: what do you mean to them?

leona has a really hard time expressing himself, so he doesn’t talk too much about how much you mean to him. on the inside though, he’s so grateful to the universe that he’s lucky enough to call you his partner. you make him feel appreciated, and remind him that he’s worth taking care of himself- without you he doesn’t know where he’d be, and he doesn’t like to think about a world without you

Night: how do they spend their nights with you?

he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow lol. he will wait for you to get into bed with him before going to sleep but he’s OUT and dead to the world until morning. when he’s sleeping you can pet him and hear him purr without him being grumpy so that’s a plus!

Sad: how do they make you feel better?

he’s really bad at comforting people with words, so he does it through his actions and showing you that he’s there even if he won’t say it. he makes sure you’ve eaten and gets you some water, and turns on a movie or show to take your mind off of it while he gives you a back rub to help ease any physical tension you might have

Fiancé: do they want to get married? if so, how do they propose and what is their wedding like?

he does want to get married, but he wants to keep it very private and away from the big affairs that the royal family usually have. he proposes while you’re sight seeing in the sunset savanna, he wants to do it in his home country, but he makes sure it’s just the two of you on a small cliff with a gorgeous view to watch the sunset. the wedding is very small with just his family and your friends, and it isn’t announced to the public to make sure it stays quiet

Mornings: how do they spend mornings with you?

it’s REALLY hard to get him to get out of bed in the morning, and usually you have to bribe him with breakfast. it’s important to him to eat with you, to him it’s a time just spent between the two of you before your day gets hectic- not that leona’s days are busy, but he likes how domestic it is to start his day with you

Love: when do they say I love you for the first time?

it takes him a while to actually say that he loves you. there’s a mutual understanding in the relationship that you both love each other despite not saying it out loud. on the first of your birthdays that you spend together as a couple, he gives you the gift he got for you, which is incredibly well thought out and meaningful, and tells you that he loves you, and wishes you a happy birthday

[mywritersmind]

TOUCH ME - LN4

summary : y/n shows her affection through hugs, kisses, and just plain touching. lando is sad when he realizes that she does this with everyone but him.

listen up : no warnings!! cuteness!! singapore win!

word count : 747

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It had been bothering him for months. Lando noticed when he and Y/n started becoming friends. After a long period of not liking each other, the two finally agreed to put their differences aside because of all their mutual friends.

Their mutual friends started becoming the issue for Lando.

She touches everyone. Not in a weird way, she just shows affection through touch… Through touching anyone but him.

Lando watches her in his drivers room, she’s drawing on the small whiteboard; a tiny lando and a tiny y/n in the corner.

“Why do you touch everyone?” He asks out of nowhere, she turns back slightly, giving him a look before turning back to the board.

“My love language is touch… I guess? At least that’s what people tell me.” She shrugs, coming to the end of the drawing.

“But you don’t touch me.” This makes her pause for a moment before finishing off the drawing and turning back around to face the man.

He's sitting on his drivers bed, race suit unzipped half way and water bottle in hand.

“You want me to touch you?” she raises a brow, teasing him a bit.

He looks down at his water, fiddling with the straw, “I just mean- we’re friends, right? You seem to kiss and hug everyone except for me.”

This makes her more uncomfortable, she slips her hands in her pockets and shrugs, “I don’t mean to not. I guess it’s just different with you.”

“How am I different from Oscar or Charles?” He looks up at her again, his eyes so bright, “They both have girlfriends and you don’t seem bothered.”

Y/n laughs, not thinking before speaking, “Yeah because I’m not into them like that.”

Lando’s eyes widen a bit, “But- you’re into me… like that?” Y/n decides there is two options,

1. Confess her feelings for Lando, ruining all the progress they’ve made to have a good and comfortable friendship while simultaneously risking rejection from someone she really cares about.

2. Lie.

Two seems safer.

“Of course not.” she shakes her head.

Lando doesn’t believe her, or he just doesn’t want to believe her, “So why don’t you touch me? Even after I won in Zandvoort you didn’t hug me.” she hadn't realized how much this had hurt him. She was simply thinking about the hundreds of cameras facing them and how she was already blushing.

Someone knocks on the door then, calling out, “Lando, Warm up starting now.” He swallows, looking up at Y/n.

“I’ll go.” She says quietly, wondering how everything so quickly went south, “Good Luck, Lan.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/n watched the race with Max, on the edge of her seat and sweating. The moment Lando crossed the finish line, a grin was permanently planted onto her face.

After every interview, the podium, a shower, and change of clothes, he walked out to the track where Y/n sat.

She jumped up and hugged him.

“You’re so fucking amazing.” Lando’s heart skipped a beat.

“Enjoy the race?” He smiles as she pulls away, her hands joining and clapping.

“Duh! Everyone else was all boring and whatever but you did so well! Twenty seconds ahead- shit!” even though he was in the race and just had a thirty minute meeting about it, he could listen to her talk about it for hours. “And Lan, about before- I really didn’t mean to hurt you it’s just different and I don’t know why but I swear it’s not to be mean! You’re my friend and-”

“Just friend?” Lando stops her immediately.

She looks up at him, “Well… I always thought-”

“I fancy you. I have for a while.” He just spits it out, his hands on her elbows as she stares blankly at him.

She blinks, “You’re not taking the piss are you because I swear!” He kisses her then.

She’s laughing against him as he pulls her closer, touching her softly and savoring it.

“I like you too.” She blushes. “And fuck you for not telling me sooner!”

He scoffs, “You could have as well! Plus you’re so damn mysterious I couldn’t tell if I should be flattered at your yelling or scared.”

She laughs, kissing his cheek before resting her head on his chest.

He puts his arms around her, his heart beating rapidly, “If you touch your friends like that then i’m damn excited to see how you treat your boyfriend.”

[slaaverin]

Are you sure? Initial thoughts

Ah I've been rereading a post I made before AYS aired about my excitement and hope for the show.

How joyful yet filled with dread I was about what would be on display, what would be uncovered, and people's reaction.

In retrospect, I think AYS gave us everything we hoped for and more.

We saw jikook relaxed and comfortable, enjoying their time together, doing mundane stuff, with quiet and simple moments, or doing fun activities where they felt free and joyful and in the present moment.

My takeway of this show and jikook's relationship is their sense of belonging.

I hoped for a closer look into their dynamic and we really got that.

The way their relationship works is that no matter what they are doing (or not doing), you can see how much pleasure they are taking for simply being in each other's presence. There is a flow and an ease between them that never gets disrupted by anything. They simply adapt to their circumstances and keep being authentic and enjoy the time together.

They showed several times how important these trips were for them.

But in truth it showed it was not (only) about the trips.

What is really obvious is how much they value their relationship, how much care they put in it.

This is not about the trips, this is not about making a show.

This is allowing time to tend and to nurture this relationship they deeply love.

That's what most important.

It matters to them, so much.

Even with Jungkook (we can see it in I am still) crazy schedule. Maybe because of his schedule.

It was needed, it was even indispensable.

Now we have all the information, I cannot see them not making those trips before military. They craved it so much, and they loved it so much, it was for their own mental health and well-being, to keep their internal balance.

When your world turns upside down, when you are faced with the Unknown, your first instinct is to reassure yourself, is to go home, and make yourself a cup of warm tea, and do the things that makes you feel calm and relaxed. As humans we tend to do this, to take cover, to retreat, in the safest place we know, to ease our hearts and to make us think everything will be ok.

That's what Jimin & Jungkook did.

They went home to each other. They took cover into the ease and softness of their relationship, because that's known. Because that's safe. It's where they feel they belong and they can rest.

I understand why.

Such relationship is an oddity in the real world, it's once every blue moon, it doesn't come easily, sometimes people spend their whole life searching for it.

We can see also how much the dynamic is different with other members. Nothing compares to them.

I think jikook are aware of this (because they are smart people) so when you find something so precious, you want to care for it and keep it close to your heart.

It shows in how much tenderness they have for e/o.

Jungkook plays the "baby alpha" yet with Jimin he transforms into the most caring and protective.

Jimin is a selfless guy in general but we see how he truly deeply enjoys seeing Jungkook happy. "All for your happiness".

Damn it makes me tear up just to think about it.

They are SO LOUD. My god.

It is so goddamn beautiful to witness.

At this point I am simply happy for them.

Happy they have each other. Happy they got to show who they are together with no repercussions (because thank god people are still stupid! Blessed be the ignorant)

This show was a rollercoaster of emotions, but now we know, now we see, now we say "Ah yes, that's it. This is what this is about"

Forever grateful to them for trusting us like this with a huge part of themselves.

They really do love us a lot.

(I'm writing this as I should be editing the show, so this post is pure procrastination, let me to back to work 😂)

Thank you for reading 💜

[a-blog-for-venting-i-guess]

Transformers One Bucks fanfic tropes and I love it

Spoilers below

I’m just gonna call them Megatron and Optimus for this even when I’m referring to pre transformation times.

So as a fan of the Megatron and Optimus Prime ship, I have read many many pre breakup/no breakup stories. A consistent aspect of them is Megatron being the revolutionary while Optimus is a champion of working within the system. And while those stories are fine, even great, a lot of the time it feels like Meg’s legit issues with the government were getting ignored by focusing on the “you protested in the wrong way,” sort of stuff that then radicalized him. Or megs would just use those grievances to get power and then not actually want to fix the system, he just wanted to be in charge.

I also thought this sometimes did a disservice to Optimus. Portraying him as so by the book he’s naive to the problems within cyberton so Megs has to show him the light and such. And then when Optimus does turn around he’s gotta calm Meg’s violent tendencies. Be the calm voice of reason.

So in comes Transformers One. And it’s OPTIMUS who is questioning how things work. Maybe not directly, but he’s constantly either breaking actual rules or just social norms to get what he wants. A better cybertron for all. When the truth is revealed he’s the one being like “I knew something was off.” Even when the truth is revealed Optimus is focused on fixing things because that was always what he wanted in his heart. That desire drives him to be reckless.

Meanwhile Megatron is the by the books guy. Seeing the system and its rules as a sort of lifeline he clings to whenever Optimus drags him on another stupid adventure that gets them in trouble. I think deep down he wanted the same things as Optimus but thought he could get them by following the rules. It was also a narrower scope. He wanted things better for them. Wanted a better life for himself.

When the truth is revealed he loses that safety net, He loses everything he’s ever believed in and he doesn’t know how to fix things. There’s no rule book for him to fall back on because the rules were BS and actively used to keep him down. He doesn’t trust that showing everyone the truth will cause them to turn on sentinel because all that happened to him when he learned the truth was becoming jaded+a desire for vengance. Which is why he thinks in order to move on Sentinel has to die. And this belief is solidified when he meets the elite guard with their ideology of the strongest one leads.

Optimus has to try to play the voice of reason for the first time in their friendship because of Meg’s reaction to the truth, and he sucks at it. Megs could never actually talk Optimus down from his schemes, and Optimus would always be the one making choices/leading the charge for what do to in their friendship. Now that Megatron is making up his own reckless (to put it mildly) decisions, Optimus has no idea how to actually successfully talk down Megs.

All of this leads to the tragic of tragic breakups.

Two people that cared about each other, wanted the same thing, but had drastically different ways of achieving that. And that difference tore them apart.

This is the basic story of Optimus and Megatron when they’re friends first. And for the first time it feels like the falling out happened without either of them being an idiot, or some misunderstanding. It was just how they naturally developed over the course of the story.

God I love this movie.

[parkerloves]

BACK AGAIN || PG10 x Fem!Reader

paring: boyfriend!pierre gasly x actress!fem!reader;

trope: second chance

summary: after a photo with her and her next co-star being way too close for a scene pierre ends up listening to the wrong people until his girlfriend go see him

fc; emily rudd

warnings: mention of cheating even though no one cheats

A photo had taken over the covers of every magazine that relied on gossip and one name was repeated in every headline: Lovelle Cartier, a young actress known for her contribution to the world of horror and for dating a certain pilot with whom she shared nationality, but this time there was no talk of a new date or a movie, but the photo showed the young actress very much attached to a man who was still unknown.

⠀—Pierre please don't be an idiot and pick up the fucking phone —The young woman mumbled sitting on the bed in her hotel room just before it went to voicemail—

Nothing that was being said about her was even the slightest bit close to reality, and that was exactly why she wanted to talk to the one who had been her partner for the previous two years, even though right now she wouldn't even take a call from him, although on the third try she was able to get an answer.

⠀—Love, don't try anymore.... —Those were the first words she heard from the Frenchman, and the chestnut knew at that moment that he had been crying or at least screaming— I've been trying, I really have, I didn't care about any of your relationships in movies and stuff, but I guess it's true what they say that if you fake something it ends up being real....

Those were the last things Lovelle heard before the sound of the phone call ending reached her ears, causing all the frustration and sadness that had been building up since that stupid picture had started circulating on the internet. But of course Love wasn't going to let it end like that, and she knew she wasn't the only one when the device in her hand vibrated again although this time another name appeared on the screen, and recognizing it she was quick to accept the call and began speaking.

⠀—It's not what you think, fuck Charles... I would never hurt him, you know that.... —She mumbled so fast that she even seemed not to be understandable at certain moments, so she had to be interrupted by her friend—.

⠀ —I know Love, I know... But you've messed up, you know that right? I don't know what happened but don't leave him like this —The young actress had already stood up and had started pacing around the room as she always did when she was nervous and wanted to take the stress off her mind—.

⠀—I'm going to catch a plane, I don't know when I'll get there, in a couple of hours I guess, please take care of him while I go, I can't lose him, not him —She mumbled while her breathing made the pretence of recovering its normal rhythm, without much success—.

⠀—Don't do anything stupid, okay? If you come he's going to listen to you, he can't not listen to you —The girl nodded on the other end of the line and luckily Charles knew the young woman too well to know her reflexes in those situations— I'll wait for you at the hotel yes? I'll pick you up when you arrive

Shee didn't even wait a few seconds before hanging up and going to book the earliest flight she could, without even worrying about the price of it all, and if she already hated airports as usual, now that she only had a fucking image in mind it was certainly worse.

The flight was interminable, especially because in each of the magazines that were on that plane there was that stupid picture next to a more irritating headline that seemed to have been created just to hurt, but luckily that nightmare only lasted two hours before arriving at the Italian peninsula where the whole grid was now.

<<send me the address of the hotel, my cab arrives in 5 minutes>> she wrote in the Monegasque's chat as she didn't even have the patience to wait for it to arrive and smiled when she received that link that he didn't take long to send to the one who would be her driver, arriving at his destination in a matter of less than half an hour.

⠀—Charles, they won't let me into the hotel, I guess they think I'm a fan or something —She didn't even bother to greet the young man as she had her mind occupied with many other things—.

⠀—I'll be right down for you, I left Pierre with Yuki, he already knows the whole situation, and thank goodness he knows you and supports you —Charles luckily didn't take too long to appear on the other side of the door, dragging the young girl inside the building, hugging her when they were both already under the roof, letting her best friend have at least some time to calm down from all that, noticing after a few seconds later his shirt was getting wet on the side of his chest—.

⠀—Can I go see him? Although I don't know if it's the best option.... But if you ask him to come to see me he's not going to do it.... —She murmured still against his friend's chest before he covered his mouth to stop him from talking for a second—

⠀—He's in his room, he doesn't know it, but he needs you now more than ever —He grabbed the young woman's face with both hands to raise his gaze to hers, causing the French woman to only nod—.

As soon as they arrived at the door where Alpha Tauri's drivers were, Charles called Yuki to leave the room but to leave the door closed behind him, and it was at that moment when the fear took hold of the young woman and she flinched for a few milliseconds before the green-eyed man pushed her into the room. 

The image inside broke the young woman's will even more strongly at that moment, for she had only ever seen her boyfriend in that condition, and she would never have allowed herself to be the one responsible for something like that.

But it was then that those blue eyes came out of the hiding place they had found, in the hands of their very owner and would meet the blonde's, generating a grimace of confusion in the boy before it changed to anger.

⠀—What are you doing here? You didn't have to come and you know it, you didn't have to waste your time —She had never heard him address her in that way, but now there was no turning back and he planned to fight for what he wanted—.

⠀—Don't do that please —She took a few steps in the Frenchman's direction although she still kept her distance as she knew she shouldn't push him at that moment— I need you to listen to me, I only ask you for a few minutes and I'll leave later if that's what you want —She murmured feeling once more the blond's blue orbs on her—.

⠀—I shouldn't be giving you this opportunity, you know that, right? —That was the signal for Lovelle to move a few steps closer and then kneel down in front of the bed since it was practically impossible for the young woman not to be close to him, despite the fact that she wanted to give him a little bit of space as well—.

⠀—And you know I would never cheat on you, right? Yet here we are... Because I'm stubborn as fuck and I'm not going to lose you for a stupid picture —Her tone of voice was soft, beacause yes, she was frustrated and even angry, but he had more rights to be like that and she accepted it since she just wanted to have him back—.

⠀—Why weren't there cameras? —Those were the only words that came out of the boy's mouth in the form of a soft mumble after that little speech from his girlfriend, since a part of him of course wanted to believe her but let's just say that there wasn't much evidence in her favor—.

⠀—It's going to sound really bad.... But it's the shitty angle —She said and as soon as she realized that her words would probably be worthless at that moment she decided to look for some more decisive picture on her phone, but a hand interrupted his search—

⠀—No, fuck what's happening to me? You shouldn't have to be the one looking for ways for me to believe you? I don't know what was going through my head —He move the phone away from the blonde's field of vision before grabbing her face caressing her cheeks— Mine's going to sound really bad too, but I guess the shitty race I've had hasn't helped at all —His tone was soft again and her breathing was slowly returning to normal—.

⠀—I was planning to call you as soon as I finished work, I saw your DNF as soon as Chris alerted me —The distance between them was slowly getting shorter and it seemed that nothing of the last few hours had passed, which honestly was a relief for both of them—.

⠀—Let me take you to dinner today, there's a restaurant on the shore and hopefully you can watch the sunset —The Frenchman remembered one of his girlfriend's favorite things and seeing how a smile formed on her face, he couldn't help but bring their lips together in search of one of those kisses he had had to learn to share, but luckily not the feeling in them— I'm sorry

⠀— I think we both are sorry —She mumbled a few inchies away from his lips—

[lyssak09]

Hello. Can you write yandere The Governor ( Philip Blake) ? Please

Yandere Philip Blake (The Governor)

So I've been rewatching his season to get some ideas for this and to refresh myself on his character, and god damn I forgot what a fucking psycho this man can be. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. Happy reading

The governor could have met you in many ways, finding you during a recon mission, you and your small group finding Woodbury, or maybe he saw you injured while you were doing a scavenge run for the prison, and by god, you’re just so pretty, so how could he not help a pretty little thing like you.

Either way, he’ll fabricate elaborate lies about the fate of your loved ones/group, making you believe they are either dead or have abandoned you. This will isolate you emotionally and make you more reliant on him.

He collects mementos of your time together, ranging from innocent tokens to more disturbing trophies that remind him of you and your bond. These items are kept hidden, serving as a reminder of his ‘love’ for you.

When his control over you is threatened or challenged, The Governor’s demeanor can quickly shift from charming to violently possessive. He may resort to extreme measures to eliminate perceived threats to your relationship or his authority.

 In his mind, The Governor truly believes he is acting out of love and protection for you. He justifies his actions as necessary sacrifices for your happiness and survival in the harsh world they live in.

His love for you is twisted with manipulation. He showers you with gifts and affection one moment, only to use guilt or emotional blackmail to keep you from leaving his side when you express any desire for independence or doubts about his methods.

The Governor uses emotional blackmail, often threatening to harm himself or others if you try to leave or disobey him. He manipulates your guilt and compassion to keep you compliant.

I also wouldn’t put it past him to manipulate your health. If you ever fall ill or get injured, The Governor ensures you receive the best care, but he also uses your vulnerability to further establish your dependence on him. He might even exaggerate or fabricate medical conditions to keep you close.

The Governor often gives you gifts, each a reminder of how much he loves you. These gifts are sometimes eerily personal, like a necklace made from something you once mentioned liking in passing, showing just how closely he pays attention to you.

Any sign of rebellion or disobedience from you is met with stern reprimands or punishments. He uses psychological tactics, like silent treatment or feigned disappointment, to guilt you into compliance.

He constantly checks on you, bringing you gifts and necessities, ensuring you have everything you need. He uses these gestures to remind you how much he cares and how dangerous the world is outside his protection.

He uses his charm and authority to manipulate you into believing that everyone outside of Woodbury is a threat. He often exaggerates or fabricates stories of violence and betrayal to make you dependent on him.

The Governor often goes out of his way to personally inspect any new people who come into contact with you, ensuring they are no threat to you or his control over you.

To you and others, The Governor appears charismatic and caring, often offering a helping hand and creating an image of a benevolent leader. However, on the inside, his possessiveness and manipulation are prominent.

In public, The Governor often displays exaggerated affection towards you, making it clear to everyone that you belong to him. This also serves to remind you of his power and influence over your life.

The Governor keeps a journal where he obsessively documents everything about you – your likes, dislikes, daily routines, and any conversations you two have. This helps him tailor his behavior to be the perfect partner in your eyes.

He has a secret room filled with photographs and memorabilia of you. This is his sanctuary where he indulges in his obsession, convincing himself that everything he does is for your own good.

In his mind, your relationship is destined and he often speaks to you about a future where they rule over Woodbury together, framing it as a utopian dream while ignoring your discomfort.

The Governor involves you in personal projects or missions, making you feel important and valued. These projects are often designed to keep you busy and distracted from thoughts of leaving.

He frequently uses emotional manipulation to keep you dependent on him, going between showing you affection and then subtly reminding you of the horrors outside Woodbury’s walls.

He fabricates stories of people trying to harm you, using these lies to justify his controlling behavior and making you believe you are safer with him.

"Baby girl you don't understand! That man was saying some of the most awful things about you behind your back. There were rumors of him planning to help some bandits raid us! He wasn't right for Woodbury.” Phillip lies right through his teeth to you, you wouldn’t understand the truth, that man was getting in between you too. He also was starting to alert people about Phillip's weird behavior towards you. So, he needed to be eliminated.

The Governor plants false allies in your life, people who pretend to support you but are loyal to him. These spies report back on your thoughts and actions, ensuring he always knows what you’re planning.

He controls the flow of information to you, censoring news and updates about the outside world. This keeps you unaware of potential opportunities for escape or allies that might help you.

He insists on knowing your whereabouts at all times. If you’re late or out of his sight for too long, he becomes furious and demands an explanation, using his anger as a way to guilt/scare you into compliance.

"Where have you been Darlin'? You were supposed to meet us for dinner 15 minutes ago. Someone keeping you chattin'?" He says with a charming grin but if you look close enough you could see his eye twitching ever so slightly. He had planned a romantic dinner for just the two of you and with every minute of you not joining him was driving him crazy. If he had to wait even just five more minutes for you then he might have put out an alert to his security team and started hunting for you.

He manipulates situations to make you see him as your savior. For instance, he might stage a walker attack and “rescue” you just in time to reinforce your gratitude and reliance on him.

The Governor believes that his actions are justified because of the dangerous world they live in. He convinces himself and tries to convince you that his extreme measures are acts of love and necessity.

Despite his controlling behavior, he shows moments of vulnerability, sharing his past traumas to elicit sympathy from you and bind you to him emotionally.

Whenever you tries to escape or express a desire to leave, The Governor stages elaborate scenarios to prove how dangerous the outside world is, reinforcing your fear of leaving the community.

Phillip was breathing heavily, one arm wrapped around you and the other out, gripping a machete tightly. He had just secretly cut open a hole in the fence, allowing walkers to trickle in, just close enough to scare you as he rushes to be your knight in shining armor. Once he’s killed most of the walkers and gotten back up he drags you to a private spot as he investigates to see if you’re hurt at all, enjoying the feeling of you clutching onto him. “This is why you have to stay here baby, with me. Who knows what could have happened if I wasn’t here to save you.” Phillip proclaimed, having to bite back a pleased smirk as you nodded your head yes, still trying to catch your breath. Maybe this’ll stop your talks of leaving for a while.

If you continues to try and escape The Governor quietly sabotages any of your attempts to leave the community. He'll tamper with vehicles, hide supplies, or create barriers that force you to stay. But if that doesn’t deter you then he’ll become a bit more aggressive in keeping you with him and from escaping.

The Governor constantly seeks validation from you, fishing for compliments and gratitude

I 100% believe he’s an attention whore for you. All he wants is for you to focus on him 24/7. He’ll definitely have his attention on you 24/7 as well, even when he’s not with you.

He installs hidden cameras and bugs in your living quarters, ensuring he knows your every move and conversation. He often uses this information to confront you about perceived disloyalty or to manipulate your emotions.

He will become extremely violent if any harm comes to you or if anyone tries to take you from him.

The number of people he has secretly killed many for you, people who threatened you, got too close to you, got in his way, and even people who just didn’t like you. 

Phillip loves you more than anything, meaning he’d do anything for you. So good luck trying to escape him. Maybe if you’re lucky the group (Rick’s group) will manage to save you. 

Keyword maybe

[mehiwilldoitlater]

*throws a mooncake into your inbox* part 2 of the erlang x reader fic plsssss. Let our boy pine and long from the distance. Yuan Fen just KNOWS he caught feeling and is giving him the stink eyes. Maybe reader is unaware? up to you. LOVE YOUR WRITING AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAYYY

((mooncake?....mooncake...this gave me setting...thank you!))

The mid-autumn festival, or the festival of the moon. You heard it back in your world, but you never thought that one day you would actually participate. After all, you showed some curiosity when you heard from the other monkeys that in the nearest city the humans were preparing everything for the festival, and it was natural for you to ask to be able to attend it.

What you and your companions didn't know was that you weren't the only not-so-human beings that were ready to take a free night for the Moon festival.

"And WHAT are you two doing here?!"

Yuán Fèn almost snarled at the two deities that looked so normal under their own spell and some normal robes. In front of you, Erlang Shen, THAT Erlang, and the third Lotus prince, Nezha, were just in that moment entering the city walls.

Even if under a glamour spell that made him look like a human, Yuán Fèn still held that small trait that didn't allora his tail to disappear, and it was currently moving like a snake around his torso.

"We have all the rights in the world to attend this celebration!" Said the younger one, snarling like your friend and showing some clean in his eyes.

"Of every city, this one?!"

"Yes! Something to say about it?!"

And while the two were arguing, you couldn't look straight in the eyes of the older deity. You remembered quite well what happened to that mountain in that illusion, and... well, it made you feel quite awkward since that was the last time you saw him. You played with the hem of your sleeve, looking from time to time at the man, maybe searching for a good way to green him.

"You look stunning, y/n."

Instead, Erlang couldn't take his eyes off you. Your hangu was of a sweet shade of blues and lilac; flowers aforned your hair and the silks, making you the most beautiful thing that his eyes ever laid on. But you could have been beautiful in everything to him.

Chang'e needed to be careful, because now she had a rival that night.

"oh!" You scratched your head from embarrassment, a little more nervous than before. "The dress?... it's just an old thing that a friend had borrowed me."

"The third sister?" He said it with a genuine but funny tone.

"Yeah! She said that I need to start tò Look like a lady from now on!"

"She has good taste."

He kept his tongue by making remarks about her being a Yaoguai. After all, you befriended many of them. On your behalf, you laughed a little, feeling the nervousness finally calm down. Then, you remembered that Yuán Fèn and that Sassu child were nearing a handfight, and you had an idea.

"Since we're all together, why don't we go as a group? Tò know each other better!" The looks of disbelief on their faces were priceless. "I mean, we should start to act as allies now that the time has changed. And it would be fun!"

Yuán Fèn wanted to say something. I saw your hopeful face. You really, really wanted to attend the festival without troubles, and if going with Erlang and Nezha was an option for that, then it was worth it!

"All right, if they're not against it."  Which he hopes they were.

Well, they weren't; they both agreed on the spot, and so here you all were, walking in the street, full of people, ready to start the celebrations with two deities, really important ones too, and the One that had hereditated all of Sun Wukong powers—a normal group.

What really caught your attention was the decoration around yourself: everywhere someone had hanged a lantern, on their house, on the streets, between the house and palaces. Children were running around, holding small lanterns made of carved melons, where the adults had cut shapes in the zest, then putted a candle inside. 

Music could be Heard from the taverns, in the streets, around some temples, and everyone seems busy to have a good time. Your eyes couldn't concentrate on one spot, so immediately they were caught by something else, and you were so distracted that even Yuán Fèn needed to pull you a little. And of it wasn't him; a certain child was now fully invested in the area sourranding him.

"There there! I bet they sell flying lanterns! Bián huá, led me some money so we can take a few for later!"

"Why should I? Firstly, my name is Y/n, and secondly, you have to ask for them!"

"Hey! Have you forgotten who I am? I can turn you to-"

"To nothing. Because if a certain emperor find out you both sneak here, you're in big trouble!"

It was funny seeing Nezha act like a brat with someone that didn't care about his status, and of course it needed to be you.

While he kept complaining or tugging at your sleeves to get your attention on something, a small crowd got your attention. The music and the dances were blasting; a small group of musicians was playing an old song about Houyi and Chang'e, girls were launching handkerchiefs around, and boys were trying to catch them as fast as they could.

"Hey! Over there! What are they doing? What kind of dance is that?"

"That? It's a matchmaking dance." Said nonchalantly Yuán Fèn. "Of the boy can give back the handkerchief to the girl who has tossed, they may get married in the future."

"Oooh, it's cute!" You got closer to the crowd and, without even noticing, a few old ladies, maybe caught in a joyful spirit, had already caught you and dragged you inside.

"Little help here?!" You tried to call for your friend, but he was stopped by the young one.

"Just throw the thingy! Who's going to pick it up anyway?!" He laughed about it, while you just stuck your tongue out at him.

Once you did what they told you, you were free and without your handkerchief.

"Wow, those ladies are crazy about it!"

"They just like seeing young ladies march with young men, even strange things like you!"

"Careful, or I'll ruin your makeup, boy..." The both of you were now making faces at each other, to the dismay of Erlang and the joy of Yuán Fèn.

"so! What now?"

"We should go and pay and offer to the moon goddess; it's her festival after all."

"Allright! Let's move!"

While you, Yuán Fèn, and Nezha started moving, you hadn't noticed a Swift of Wind between the crowd. When you turned around, Erlang was adjusting his robe and hair.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Ah yes. Sorry, I was just...thinking."

He deliberately avoided the monkey glare; the only one who knew that had noticed maybe.

///

After you all had offered the incense, prayed for some good fortune, and paid respect to the goddess, you all decided that it was the right moment to stop and enjoy some dinner.

"Why don't we stop here? It seems nice!"

"I wouldn't mind some crabs."

"I'm starving!"

If it wasn't just for the small details that the place was crowded like nowhere, it would have taken hours to eat something! And you still wanted to participate in other events! Especially when the lanterna would have been left free in the sky to fly! You bought a few without Nezha knowing—a small surprise for him. Your mouth started tò watering while you saw all of those plates full of food and delicacy moving between table to table, and you were really beginning to think that losing at least the lion dance could not be such a terrible idea.

Until you noticed the monkey and the boy eyes fixed on the door that seemed to lead to the kitchen. There, your thoughts start tò running.

"You really shouldn't do that!"

"They won't notice!" Said Nezha, ready already to sneak in.

"We'll leave a few dollars, so it won't be a real robbery. What do you think?" Yuán Fèn winked at you. Just before taking the form of One of the waiters was alongside Nezha, making his way towards the kitchen. You blushed a little, still a little uncostimed by his new-found cockiness that accompanying tò Bajie was provoked by his mind now clear about his love towards you.

"Yuán fèn or Sun Wukong, they won't change. Troublemakers Deep in Their Heart." Erlang sighed, observing the scene.

"I like him this way... He may be a troublemaker, but he got a big heart."

The deity couldn't shake that pounty feeling in his heart when he saw with what gaze you were looking at the monkey. Deep, really Deep, he wished that you could have spared those dreamy eyes for himself. Such a selfish desire, but he was selfish inside...

"I never got the chance to thank you properly for what you've done for me back there." You started again to play with your sleeve, looking at your feet with some shyness that, in his eyes, made you more precious than ever.

"You don't have to. It was my duty to do so."

"I know, but...thank you...for everything."

And there it was again—that damn smile. That smiled so full of kindness and life that virtually you could possess, one smile that could break everyone's heart, especially Erlang's. He looked at you fondly and started to search for something in his robe.

"Y/n, please, I would."

The screaming of the owner echoed in the crowd. Laughs and screams started, and two troublemakers were running out from the restaurant, holding some food and wine.

"THEY'RE NOT THAT GENEROUS!"

///

You were able to get away from the owner fast enough, and, with your spoiler, you were able to find a nice spot. Next to the river, the boat, all of them decorated with more lanterns, seemed like a celestial vessel with reflections on the water. The light played on the surface, the colors shone like the aurora, and the moon, now high in the sky, set herself to be admired by mortals, Yaoguais, and celestials on that peaceful night.

Everything was just nice, with some food, wine, and good friends. 

After a while, you and Nezha standard up and get closer to the river bank to spot more interesting lanterns, leaving Yuán Fèn and Erlang alone and together.

The night was peaceful, but between the two of them, the tension seemed palpable, and the brother of them wanted to open their mouth to speak up. Erlang proved no animosity towards the monkey; he had made sure of that, but it wasn't like he liked him anyway. But he was sure that that night, the monkey really didn't enjoy his presence at all.

"If you have something to say, then talk. Don't ruin the night with this."

"Then give me the handkerchief."

Erlang stopped tò eating his crabs. His expression seemed calm, for now.

"I can smell it from here. Hand it over."

"Are you afraid of some silly mortal tradition?"

"I'm afraid that another stunt from you will cause some damage that I REALLY don't want to fix."

Erlang was sure that Heard a well-hidden snarl from the monkey. He enarched his eyebrow, looking at him with an inch of doubt.

"I'm Sorry?"

"I could smell it... your scent that day... She was soaked in it."

"I tended to her for weeks. Is normal?"

"She told me you kissed her."

He didn't retract this time, preferring to avoid the angry eyes of the companion, while his first became White.

"...she told you?"

"She wanted to come clear to me, and so I am to you. Do not do anything that you would regret."

He chuckled, ignoring the desire of the monkey to just grab him and destroy him.

"It's a treat?"

"It is, if you'll go over the line. I want to protect her from what can hurt her, especially deities that can't keep their eyes on the ground? She already told me she loved me; she doesn't need confusion now."

Erlang couldn't hold a smile. He always loved some good challenges, but you weren't one. Or, at least, you were already being won.

Yuán Fèn stood up, readjusting his scarf and his neck.

"I won't tell you to stop your feelings; I can't do that. I just ask you to be concederate for your own well-being."

He reached his hand towards him, mimicking the gesture of handing over that small piece of silk. That monkey... he could be so cruel, even against a small and harmless tradition.

He gave it to the monkey, observing that stupid and small thing disappear in the monkey pocket. Before leaving to reach you and Nezha, the monkey stopped in his tracks. His eyes shining with a dark light, his teeth showing...

"I won't hesitate to destroy you to keep you with me...got it?"

The first thing that Erlang thought was that the Destined One and Sun Wukong looked so alike and so possessive.

When he keft, Erlang eyes kept in following him..and then you.

He now understands how It felt Houyi, something the man desired, yet he never reached.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: Cyno and Tighnari Sharing an S/O

Balance of Opposites: Cyno and Tighnari have very different personalities, which creates a unique dynamic when sharing an S/O. Cyno is more stoic, serious, and dedicated to his duties as General Mahamatra, while Tighnari is practical, witty, and highly knowledgeable as a forest ranger. Their S/O loves how they balance each other—Cyno’s calm and strength with Tighnari’s intellect and humor.

Cyno’s Protectiveness: Cyno, on the other hand, is incredibly protective of both Tighnari and their S/O. He may not be as vocal about it as Tighnari, but his quiet, intense loyalty is always felt. He’s the type to stand guard while Tighnari and their S/O work in the forest, ensuring their safety. When the three of them are together, Cyno is constantly aware of their surroundings, watching over the people he cares about most.

Teasing Tighnari: Tighnari is often the one to tease both Cyno and their S/O. He’s quick-witted and enjoys playfully pointing out the odd quirks both of them have. He might casually tease Cyno about his terrible jokes, saying things like, “You really don’t need to subject *both* of us to these puns,” but secretly, he finds it endearing that Cyno tries so hard to amuse their S/O.

Shared Moments of Peace: Despite Cyno’s seriousness and Tighnari’s focus on practicality, the three of them often find peace in simple moments, like sitting together under the stars after a long day or sharing a quiet meal in the forest. Their S/O brings a sense of calm and warmth to both Cyno and Tighnari, allowing them to relax and enjoy the time spent together.

Friendly Rivalry: Cyno and Tighnari have a playful, friendly rivalry when it comes to winning over their S/O’s attention. Cyno, though not as vocal, might use his competitive side to try and one-up Tighnari during their conversations or in card games like Genius Invokation TCG. Tighnari, meanwhile, knows how to charm their S/O with his vast knowledge of plants, animals, and the environment, making Cyno roll his eyes but smile fondly all the same.

Cyno’s Awkward Affection: Cyno isn’t great with showing affection openly, but his S/O and Tighnari have learned to read between the lines. His small gestures, like offering his cloak when it’s cold or silently standing closer during dangerous situations, speak volumes. Tighnari might even joke about it, saying, “Cyno’s version of saying ‘I love you’ is standing like a silent bodyguard,” but it only makes their S/O appreciate Cyno’s subtle ways of caring even more.

Tighnari’s Playful Flirting: In contrast, Tighnari is more forward with his affection. He loves to gently tease their S/O and Cyno, brushing his hand against theirs when talking or casually wrapping his arm around their shoulders. He’s also the one most likely to break the silence with a witty remark or joke, lightening the mood whenever things get too serious.

Shared Responsibilities: With their S/O, the trio finds a way to share responsibilities and maintain harmony. Cyno’s leadership and strategic mind, paired with Tighnari’s practicality and deep knowledge of nature, create a strong team. Their S/O loves how they can rely on both of them in different ways, whether it’s Cyno’s calm assurance in dangerous situations or Tighnari’s advice on practical matters.

Gentle Moments of Care: Both Cyno and Tighnari have their own ways of showing care for their S/O. Tighnari, as a forest ranger and healer, is naturally more attentive to their physical well-being, always making sure they’re well-fed, hydrated, and healthy. Cyno, though quieter, is always there with a steady hand, offering a reassuring presence and making sure they feel safe, no matter the circumstances.

Affectionate Competition: Sometimes, Cyno and Tighnari get into playful disagreements over how to best care for their S/O. Tighnari might insist that their S/O needs rest, while Cyno believes they’re ready for more action. Their S/O often laughs at the two, appreciating how much they care, knowing they’ll always have two very different but equally supportive people by their side.

In the end, the balance of Cyno’s protectiveness and Tighnari’s humor and care creates a fulfilling, dynamic relationship. Their S/O is the anchor that brings them together, making their trio stronger than the sum of its parts.

[cheesywostitss]

I was complaining at work about being cold and my coworker filled up a coffee cup with hot water and brought it to my station and went "handwarmer!!" and ran away

[moon-mirage]

“You think you can handle 250G now?”

I wanted to draw a scene of them getting along (yes, even with a tiny Vegeta smile ... smirk) during those infamous three years because I believe there was more than just them fighting and screwing each other.

Not to say the latter didn't happen of course 😏:

[elialys]

"You know, I am a fucking disaster. But I'm also relentless. And I'm loyal. I think we can make you a newsreader."

THE NEWSREADER | 1.01 "Three, Two, One..."

[yellowjackets-1996]

(do you love me like that?) you're a reckless driver (I'm a reckless driver) and one day it will kill us if I —