#i think this is the third or fourth ask about this topic with the same(ish) responses to the whole Stealth Thing

[lovelybee666]

Request: Hello! can i request romantic! catnap x reader? Catnap does not have any particular feelings toward reader at first, but gradually begins to develop romantic feelings for him each time he meets, or chase reader.

Author's note: @minnesotamedic186 Ok so...MAYBE I'll delete your request, but don't worry because I take a screenshot of your request before proceeding to delete it unintentionally

CATNAP BEGINS TO FEEL ROMANTIC FEELINGS FOR THE READER

CATNAP

• When he saw you for the first time he just look at you for a moment and continued doing whatever his doing, thinking something like "oh a new person...anyway—"

• the second time, you greet him although he simply greeted you and then you two were in a long and deep awkward silence, Catnap didn't know what to say, you didn't know what to say, NO ONE KNEW ANYTHING.

• The third time you were in your hut practicing a conversation with him since he was the only one you hardly spoke to, You gathered your courage and went to greet Catnap and the same thing happened, he greeted you and nothing more, although this time you started talking and trying to start a conversation with the night Kitty, this time you managed to talk to him and learned his name after half an hour of just you talking to a mannequin with Catnap's face drawn to simulate that you were talking.

• The fourth time Catnap was a little more comfortable around you and sometimes talked more than you, you were both sitting in a tree watching the leaves fall from the tree.

• the fifth time you were both eating ice cream but your scoop of ice cream fell and Catnap offered his saying that he wasn't hungry anyway, You felt a little bad but you accepted the offer and ate Catnap's ice cream while he talked to you about different topics, That night Catnap felt something strange, something he had never felt before, it was like a feeling of warmth and happiness, It was...weird.

• The sixth time they were both drawing with Craftycorn and Catnap couldn't stop looking at you, which from your point of view was a little different since it was an INTENSE look, like really intense (Honestly, I would be terrified and Catnap would look me in the eyes), Catnap continued drawing and when he showed it to you and Craftycorn, it was a drawing of you and Catnap holding hands eating ice cream, It was a very cute drawing although Catnap wasn't very good at drawing so it was a stick style.

• On the seventh time, Catnap for some reason felt that warmth when he was with you and he couldn't understand why, it was a strange but not unpleasant feeling, many members of the Smiling Critters They noticed that every time you were with Catnap he moved his tail slightly from side to side and seemed a little happier.

• On the eighth time they both played hide and seek but Kickin called Catnap and they paused their game, Kickin asked him why he acted this way and he simply remained silent, Kickin understood what Catnap felt, it was love, Kickin annoyed Catnap a little but he just gave him the silent treatment and went back to playing with you as if nothing had happened, Kickin had the perfect idea for the next day.

• Kickin went to Catnap the next morning and greeted him and with Catnap's permission he entered his home, the yellow chicken told Catnap that he was going to help him conquer the "love of his life", Catnap couldn't fully understand but Kickin explained to him that this feeling of warmth was love, Catnap was three times as confused although he let Kickin help him.

• They spent the whole night planning it and the next day Catnap asked you to go to the same tree from the third time they met and when you arrived you noticed Catnap but there was a small detail that you noticed and that was that he wore a black bow near the tip of his tail and a small tie around his neck with a small moon pattern, He seemed a little nervous for some reason and it was kind of strange since he was normally calm and quiet, when you approached him and greeted him he returned the greeting and made a long speech and it sounded a little...like what kickin would say... anyway he talk about of some feelings he felt towards to you to end with "would you like to go out with...me...?", Now it's your decision whether to accept or not.

I knew this sleepy kitten was going to be the first to be requested!!! And I'm sorry if this is too rushed or ooc, I'm still learning the personalities of the Smiling Critters and so far I don't know much about Catnap😿

[i-care-4u]

FACE TO FACE | J.HARLOW

PAIR: JACK HARLOW X ACTRESS!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

A/N: this fic is inspired by the couple quizzes on the gq youtube channel!

TAGGED: @livsters

-

cameras started rolling. you were holding a set of cards while opening up the given laptop to talk to jack on screen. right now, you were going to ask some questions to jack, who was going to be in front of your screen. it really wasn’t face to face like they said, but rather screen to screen.

you introduced yourself, “hi gq, i’m y/n l/n, and today i’ll be asking one of my biggest fans a series of questions.”

meanwhile, jack got all giggly, excited to answer the questions that his girlfriend provided. he pretends to pick up the phone, “what’s up [nickname]?”

“hello mister harlow!” you chuckled at both jokes.

jack began conversation by asking the basic, “how are you doing today?”

“i’m doing great, what about you?”

“if you’re feeling great, then i’m feeling great also.”

you switched the conversation by bringing the main topic of the video, “good. okay, so i got to ask you some questions.”

“got it.”

-

☆ FIRST QUESTION - “WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CURSE WORD?”

“probably fuck.” jack giggled at his answer, which later spread onto you. his answer reminded you of that clip featuring miranda cosgrove. although the clip was recorded, the editors had to bleep out the word due to monetization reasons. it sounded a bit more silly in the final version.

you pretended to be shocked by his answer, “i was about to say the same thing,” you explained, “there’s just so much emotion just by using those four letters.”

jack nods in agreement, “right. like you could accidentally spill a glass of milk and be like fuck.”

☆ SECOND QUESTION - “WHAT’S THE HARDEST PART ABOUT WORKING WITH ME?”

“i think the hardest part about working with you is not laughing the entire time. like you forget that you’re at work and not listening to a comedian’s private show.”

“i know, but it’s understandable,” you said, “it’s hard not to have fun when you’re around someone you love.”

☆ THIRD QUESTION - “WHAT IS YOUR SELF-CARE ROUTINE?”

jack had his hand resting on his chin, smirking. “resting with the best.”

you sarcastically rolled your eyes at jack. “baby, we’re talking self-care here!”

“my self-care routine consists of taking a bath, taking care of my hair, taking care my skin, making sure that i’m looking clean.” jack showed his clear and fresh manicure. “also getting a fresh trim and manicure if i can.”

you awed at him. “the manicure part was my idea, by the way.”

☆ FOURTH QUESTION - “LAST PURCHASE UNDER $20?”

you were already thinking about his answer, and it caused jack to laugh. you obviously had to joke about it. “let me guess, condoms?”

surprisingly, jack shook his head. he truthfully answers, “surprisingly, not this time. the last purchase under 20 was a set of tank tops. i believe they were 15 bucks.”

you scoffed, “yeah right.”

“you know what?” jack paused and remembered his last purchase. “forget about the tank tops. my last purchase under 20 dollars were a party sized bag of doritos.”

you got closer to the camera, pretending to hold a private conversation, “doritos, please don’t cut ties with us.”

☆ FIFTH QUESTION - “WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OUTFIT OF MINE?”

“my favorite outfit of yours?” jack repeated the question. he started to think of the many outfits that you wore over the years. he had plenty of them in mind but for today, he could only say one.

“i’m going with the red carpet look from cannes film festival.”

you wore a schiaparelli dress, and the accessories is what brought jack’s attention. you were surprised by jack’s response. you could’ve thought of another look, but it was a fan favorite after all. “the one from last year?” you asked jack.

“yeah, i liked it,” jack smiled, “what’s wrong?”

you shook your head, “oh nothing. i’m just surprised that you picked that one out of all my other looks.”

“well, i had a list of favorites, but i thought i only had to go with one, so i chose the schiaparelli look.”

“say, you got a list?” you placed your hands on your chin, striking the beth harmon pose, “tell me.”

jack lightly chuckled and began listing his favorite looks of yours. “okay-”

you reacted shockingly, “damn, you really listed an entire catalog of mine!”

“it’s the stylist’s fault for picking the good ones for you.”

☆ SIXTH QUESTION - “WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHOW TO BINGE?”

jack started reminiscing about the shows he used to binge, “i watch a lot of tv, and y/n knows that i’m inconsistent when it comes to these series.”

you agreed, “right. do you have a favorite, however?”

jack removed the toothpick from his mouth, “right now, i have to go with entourage on hbo.”

you smacked your lips, “there’s something about hbo series that seem more enjoyable than other services.”

☆ SEVENTH QUESTION - “WHAT IS YOUR GO-TO FILM?”

“there’s a lot of options when it comes to film, but right now, probably brokeback mountain.”

you were in the film industry, so you were aware of a lot of films. prior to acting, you were a film fanatic, going to the theaters during release day whenever you had a chance.

of course, you had your influences growing up. one of your inspirations growing up was the cast of brokeback mountain, which included heath ledger, jake gyllenhaal, and anne hathaway.

“i have a fun fact about brokeback mountain,” you began giving a backstory, “it was one of the first movies that got me into acting.”

the words that came out of your mouth made jack fall for you even more. he didn’t know about this piece of knowledge until now. he starts telling how you mean so much to him to the people the film crew that were in the background. “when i say this girl is my dream girl, she is my dream girl.”

☆ EIGHTH QUESTION - “WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FILM BY ME?”

“on the topic of films,” you picked up the card with the question on it, “what is your favorite film starring me?”

“starring you…” jack repeated that phrase, blanking out in front of you as he sets all of your filmography in his head.

since you were a critic’s darling, jack had some favorite films in mind. “i loved your performance in knives out and bones and all. oh, and the recent puss in boots movie? our future kids is going to love it!”

you laughed at his heart warming comment. “gee, i hope so…”

☆ NINTH QUESTION - “WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE ME FOR A DAY?”

jack rubbed his hands. “this is a tough one.”

he goes, “all of a sudden, i’m y/n l/n for a day. for a day off, i would probably pick up a camera and film a sweet little video featuring my sweet boyfriend.”

it was very thoughtful of him to bring up your passion of filming. since you were a busy woman, you felt like there was little time for you to pick up an extra hobby. sure, you might play the piano or be on the studios with jack on another day, but having time for something else wasn’t on your schedule.

“any extra details you want to add, y/n?”

“the setting takes place in our kitchen, keeping it cozy there.”

you hummed, “very.”

he mentions one last detail. “oh, and my sweet boyfriend is making food.”

your face changed from being relaxed to you laughing, knowing jack’s cooking skills. “and that’s where i end the video.”

☆ TENTH QUESTION - “WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO EVERYONE RIGHT NOW?”

jack made a frowning face. “what kind of advice? relationship? career?”

you picked up the card again, reading every single detail of that question. “it doesn’t specify what kind of advice, so i assume any.”

“i have this one advice that came from my dad,” jack quotes, “every decision can alter your whole life path, so it’s crucial you make good ones.”

“well said,” you tell jack, “everyone in here, take notes.”

-

the tenth question of the interview was already answered, marking the end of the video. the directors yelled “cut” from both rooms, but you two had to stay for one last message.

jack starts, “if y’all want to see the other way around, go to vogue.com to see me ask y/n these questions face to face.”

“thank you to gq for being involved in this conversation between jack and i. thank you for watching!” you blew a kiss in front of the camera. the video cues to a white screen, placing the names of the people involved.

the cameras got everything, so you two were free to leave the studio. before you left the room, you talked to jack on the laptop five minutes after the interview ended.

“what do you want to do after we finish the interview for vogue?”

“you want to have a commentary on brokeback mountain?”

“i’d love that,” you smiled, “i’ll make dinner too.”

[shunshunrika]

Angst 4 + fluff 15 + smut 36 + sae itoshi + (kink up to author 🥰)

“I don’t have the energy to yell at you, you’re not worth it anyway.” “You want to try that again, asshole? That’s my boyfriend/girlfriend you’re messing with.” "Did I say you could stop?" + Brat Taming, Car Sex

mdni, 18+ only

“I don’t have the energy to yell at you, you’re not worth it anyway.” your boyfriend, Sae Itoshi is fed up with you and your constant antics meant to grab his attention.

"Why would you say that?" you asked, pouting and sticking out your butt a tad bit towards him as you fixed your lipstick in the vanity mirror. You Sae's eye twitch as he saw the action and you smirk at him. "I dressed all pretty just for you." And prettily dressed, you were no doubt, although Sae would rather call it sluttyily dressed. The open back of your navy-blue dress was so low, your ass crack was practically visible. You even had this weird cut in front of your dress that showcased plenty of your under boobs.

"We're going to a high-class engagement, Y/N, not a stripclub, where you are the performer." Sae said bitterly. You could only laugh at the saltiness in his voice.

"What's so funny?" he spat, looking away. He was well dressed in his cream and brown three-piece suit. You'd rarely get to see this Sae because he was married to his jersey.

"Nothing. Let's get going."

On the ride to the party, Sae just wouldn't let the topic go. You considered your boyfriend to be a feminist, but on moments like these, where it had anything to do with you and your body, he'd be all protective all of a sudden. But you had to do this, there was a certain thing you wanted him to say. Regardless, he wouldn't stop pestering you and offering his coat for you to cover yourself with.

As soon as you entered the main hall, you could feel all eyes on you. Not a single person could pass by the brightly shining duo that were you and Sae, without catching a glance. You kept your head graciously high as you trotted along in your strappy, sexy heels, arm in arm with Sae who looked uncomfortable as shit. There were soon people huddling together to catch a chat with Sae.

"How are you doing Mr. Itoshi, this must be your wife." an elderly gentleman said, his eyes paying particular attention to your cleavage.

"Soon to be, hopefully." you corrected him.

"You must have to keep her close and satisfied or looks like she'll be taken away by one of our rowdy men." another youthful looking guy commented, chuckling. He seemed to be one of Sae's teammates by the expression Sae made at him.

"I will run away if I get bored of Sae." you say, smiling innocently making all heads turn to you. "That was a joke."

The small-talk droned on as you quickly got tired with it. The same compliments, the same thirsty glances at your boobs or your butt. Are all these sports people just thirst-beasts?

You retired to a corner of the party with your glass of red wine as you let Sae take over. You did end up needing his coat though because it was getting chilly, and he happily obliged. You were now on your third or fourth glass of wine and it was clearly getting to your head, making it thrum at a steady pace. You placed a finger on your temple to soothe it a little.

"Need some help?" a calm voice approached you.

"Sae?" you asked, delusional due to the high the wine brought.

"Ah no, I'm Leo. But same team as Sae." the man said, offering you a hand to steady yourself, which you politely declined.

"Where's Sae?" you ask. "Can you take me to him. I think I'm not feeling well."

"Oh he's right there by the buffet, come, I'll take you." he said smoothly, grabbing your wrist and making you follow him. You walked for a bit before you noticed he wasn't taking you anywhere close to the buffets.

"Uh?"

"Shhh." he motioned. He had very large eyes. Not the kind that look innocent and pretty but the kind that bulge out and look sinister.

"Sae talks about you a lot. He never agreed to show us any pictures though. Now I know why." he says, his voice low.

"Ex-excuse me?" you ask, your voice faltering, subconsciously pulling Sae's coat closer to your body.

"Just-" shit. his hands were too strong. He takes your wrist and pulls them away from your coat. His fingers graze against your underboob and the shame of it all makes your head throb harder.

"You can think of me as Sae. I don't mind-"

"LUNA!" you suddenly hear a ferocious voice cut through the air, and footsteps run towards you.

"You dare to touch her?" it was Sae. Sae's panther like movements made it quick for him to prance on Leo Luna and grab his collar.

“You want to try that again, asshole? That’s my girlfriend you’re messing with.”

"She came on to me first!" Luna said, lying straight through his teeth and making you open your mouth to protest.

"She would never. I know her and I know you, you filthy scum." Sae said, gritting his teeth. "I'll kill you!"

"Let go!" Leo Luna was unfortunately stronger than Sae and send him plummeting to the ground, getting on top of him. You didn't know how you reacted or why, but you sent your heel flying and dug it straight into Luna's side.

"Ow!" he shrieked, clutching at his ribs and getting off Sae.

"Sae, let's go. We'll report him later!" you yelled, grabbing Sae's arm and leading him out of the party, where most of the people were busy dancing and you knew no one would pay attention to Luna.

"Wow Y/N." Sae gasped, entering your car. The both of you got into the backseat to calm down. "That was hot, didn't know you had it in you!"

"What do you mean? I am stronger than you. Easy." you say proudly.

"This is why I was worried. Y-you are too pretty. and the dress-"

"Hey, Don't hate the dress." you say, finally letting go of his coat and exposing the bare parts to Sae who couldn't stop looking.

"I don't hate the dress. It's just-" he blushes heavily before he says the next few sentences, voice faltering. "Y-you're mine so. Well. Only I should get to see all those inches of your skin. They're only for me!"

"Sae." you start in disbelief. "I didn't know you could be cute?"

"I am not being cute! I am mad." he says, suddenly climbing atop you. The high from the wine and the heat of both Sae and the car are already making your head spin and your walls wet down there.

"What are you gonna do if I go back in there again like this?" you purr at Sae and reach up to bite his earlobe, making him flinch. "I'll arrange my dress so people can see more of my cleavage."

"Oh," Sae says, taking your wrists and pinning them on top of your head. "So you want to be like that. Huh?"

"Like what?" you ask, feigning innocence. Suddenly, Sae sits up and flips you onto your belly so you're lying in his lap. He pulls up your already short dress and then pulls down your lacey, see-through panties. He takes a minute to cringe at those.

"Seriously Y/N? Just how angry did you want me to be?" he asks you, his face disgusted.

"Enough to make you say I'm yours." you winked at him, turning your head.

*slap* a hand comes down on your bulbous ass, making you yelp.

"Why are you like this?" *slap*

"You could've been the perfect, innocent little girlfriend." *slap*

"Who lives and breathes for me." *slap*

You were wildly moaning out each time his hand connected with the flesh of your butt. You knew this would tickle his ego so you continued to do so.

"Yet, you want to pull all those dirty tricks?"

"Hey, I'm just needy okay!" you admit, instead of moaning.

"Did I say you could stop?" Sae asks, bringing his hand down heavier this time, making you whimper. "Keep those moans going and shut your mouth otherwise."

Sae kept talking while making a mess of your ass and you kept obliging and providing him with the lewdest moans you could come up with. Soon your ass was red hot and burning. Sae bent down to lick at it.

"My baby's all bruised up now." he said, kissing the tender skin of your ass.

"Tell me, who's a brat?" he cooed at you. you pointed at yourself.

"Good girl." he stroked your hair lovingly. "C'mere." he demanded, making you sit up and in his lap.

"Grind on me and make yourself cum." he ordered, smiling.

"What?" you uttered. "I don't get your cock?"

"You haven't earned it. So pull that orgasm out yourself."

You knew this wasn't up for bargain so you did as he told. Your sensitive clit rubbed against his expensive dress pants and you went back and forth on his bulging crotch. You held on to his neck for support as you threw your head back in pleasure.

"Keep going." He said, positioning you with his hand on your ass. "Keep going, faster." and you increased your pace. You missed the presence of a shaft that you could sit on top of. You had nothing but the bare-minimum friction to keep yourself going.

"Let me help you a bit." Sae whispered against your ear, forcing a pair of fingers onto your clit and rubbing it.

"S-Sae!" you yelped, now fueled by the additional stimulus. "Oh my goodness."

Sae was quick to bury his face in your cleavage as he jerked you off. You picked up your pace enough and were so close now. The car was steaming up from the inside now and you occasionally hit your head on the roof, but you didn't care. You had to cum. For Sae.

Then you felt it. Something flower right where Sae's fingers touched your clit and you gasped loudly, cumming on Sae's pants. He kept rubbing at your clit softly till you came down from your high, breathless.

"God." you gasped, catching your breath while Sae studied you. You noticed the wet mess you'd made on Sae's pants. "That wasn't enough. I need the dick when we go home."

"Ofcourse, I'm not done yet, you brat." Sae said, smirking at you. "Now drive, I won't get out of the car looking like I peed myself."

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Come Go With Me

A Michael Gavey fic.

EDIT: Now with art! (just a sketch tho)

Summary: It's the spring of 2007 and Michael Gavey has so far kept to the vow he made to never socialize again after Oliver ditched him. Then he meets a cute girl at a coffee shop. Will the vow stand strong or immediately go down the drain?

Word Count: 3986

Rating: T (plenty of swearing, instances of misogyny, objectification of the female body, atrociously incorrect bagel eating, New York City slander, etc.)

Author's Note: yes, the title is the song by Expose. Also, I'm a corny writer.

Divider by @cafekitsune

“I don’t know or care what Oliver Quick is doing this summer,” Michael said, continuing to type on his laptop, not even making eye contact with whoever asked the question.  The guy who asked left without saying anything further.

Some random guy in the library asked Michael if it was true that Oliver was going to be spending the summer with Felix on his family’s estate.  It was more about prying into Felix’s business than him wanting to know anything about Oliver, Michael thought.  Oliver was not on the same level of being interesting (in the eyes of the general student populace) that the Cattons were.  

Michael didn’t give a shit that Oliver was going to fancy fucking Saltburn with his new, snobby, loser, nepo baby friends for the summer.  Really, he didn’t.  When Oliver humiliated him at the bar, he made the decision then to swear off any further socializing at the university.  It was the best thing he ever did.

Already, he felt less anxious.  He had more time to focus on his coursework.  More time to read new books, attend off campus lectures.  Walks in the park by himself were quite relaxing when he didn’t have to think about topics to keep a stilted, dying conversation going.  He even went so far as to set aside time to play video games again.  Every weekend, for one hour and a half, he lost himself in Fable on his Xbox.  

Michael still felt the sting of the bar betrayal from time to time, as he thought he had finally found a true friend in Oliver (or at least, the potential for him to become one).  The new, lone path taken had helped him realize that he was not the problem.  Oliver was just an asshole, like the majority of those who went to Oxford.  

Sometimes Michael wondered why people didn’t like him.  Must be how smart he was.   There was nothing weird about being good at math.  What was so awful about being good at math, anyway?  He guessed that most peoples’ biggest issue with his smarts was that it reminded them they were stupid. Oh well!  Plenty of time for activities by himself now.

One of those activities was fast became his favorite, after only his fourth visit.  Visiting a little coffee shop he had discovered near the river, he was able to “mingle” among people without having to talk to anyone. No one would bother him here and he would still get his dose of human contact which, after all, was vital to the psychological constitution of a person.  As rigid as he intended on being with his new No Socializing At Oxford vows, Michael did not intend on becoming a psychopath.  Besides, the baristas never got his order wrong. They never talked to him beyond the perfunctory taking of his order but after the third time, when he walked in, instead of asking what he would like the person at the register had asked “The usual?” and Michael would just say yes, thank you, and then pay.

Michael packed up his laptop, shoving it and the charger into his reusable Tescoe bag along with his notebooks. He stood and adjusted his sweater, checked all his pant pockets were buttoned up and zipped closed.  He kept his visits only to every other day so as to not have the monotony grate on his nerves. The coffee shop made fresh bagels every day, however, and he had been looking forward to enjoying one all morning (his favorite was blueberry).  He liked to eat his a certain way, scooping out the insides of each slice before finally eating the hollowed out crusts.  Someone at school would surely have an opinion about his bagel-eating method (not that he cared) but at the coffee shop, Michael was left in peace.

 Walking briskly through the library doors and outside in the crisp spring air, he didn’t even look in direction of Oliver walking up the steps into the library with Felix.  They were laughing about something but Michael didn’t even breathe in their direction.

—---------

The delicious smell of bread baking hit him in a wave as he stepped into the coffee shop.  It looked like a rush had just hit, the baristas busy cleaning and restocking various items.  

“Hi! I’ll take your order right over here.” came the chipper voice.  Michael turned.

Oh god, a new hire. An American one (he was pretty sure the accent he heard was American) Maybe he wasn’t entitled to feel irritated about changes in the store, it's not like he owned the damn thing, but Michael felt irritated just the same.  This was HIS spot and someone new had just invaded it.

The new girl had long hair parted in the middle, tied back in a bun.  The hair was turquoise. A very bright turquoise, almost neon, he would say.  It pissed him off even more. Dyed hair was so fucking tacky.

He trudged to the register, hating every second of anticipating having to deal with someone new, someone chatty, even for something as impersonal as coffee.  

The girl was almost as tall as he was, eye-level to him, smiling the fakest fucking smile he had ever seen.  I mean, it had to be fake.  Who looked this happy to be taking a stranger’s order? He didn’t even bother attempting to smile back.  Whatever.  Get my coffee, bitch Michael though.

“I’ll have a large vanilla coffee, sugar free, with a blueberry bagel.” 

“Ah, so just cutting back on the sugar but can’t quite quit it altogether, eh?” the girl said with a wink and another smile, totally unperturbed by his attitude.

Michael pursed his lips and said nothing.  The girl, still unbothered, looked down and clacked away on the touch screen.  He quickly looked over her in the few seconds she imputed his order.  

She had long, acrylic nails, painted a pastel kind of purple.  Her name tag said Cat, which he guessed was short for Catherine.  Maybe.  Also her boobs were big.  Not normal big, but stripper big.  Not that he would know, but still.  Too big for the word “boobs”, for sure.  Tits seemed like a more appropriate word.  If he had ever been to a strip club he was pretty damn sure stripper tits would look exactly like hers.  And she had tattoos covering the entirety of her left arm.  Classy, he thought condescendingly. No wonder she was working here instead of somewhere like a bank.

Michael wondered if she had tattoos on her chest as well…he was so sure he could avert his gaze before she noticed but suddenly her fingers snapped and her head lowered into his line of vision, a smug look on her face.  Small wisps of hair hung in front of her ears, he noticed.

“You lose something. buddy?” she asked.  

“I didn’t mean-I was just looking at your name tag.” he sputtered, fidgeting with a cuff of his sweater.  

“Look, it's fine. They’re tits.” 

Michael flinched slightly at her casual use of the word.  It was one thing to talk like that with other guys, but girls? What was she trying to prove?  Tits tits tits. He made a point to stare straight into her eyes and not look away while she continued to speak. “Its not a big deal, I promise,” she said, finishing up his order on the register and offering her hand to take payment. 

Choosing not to respond, Michael set his Tesco bag on the counter so he could unzip one of his pockets to get at his credit card.  The pocket it was in was hard to open and the zipper always caught, so two hands were needed.  

“You can look, you know,  just don’t be creepy about it.” she continued, as he struggled slightly with the pocket.  

Michael did not look at her as he handed over the card. 

Being branded a “creep” was the last thing Michael needed.  He was already the Lonely Nerd at university, he really did not want to become the Creepy Lonely Nerd (that ogles stranger’s tits).  Not that he would give a shit what people thought, but one less socially crippling label was better than one more.

“I mean, it’s not like I can leave them at home, right?  I don’t mind a little look here and there!” she said with a laugh, handing back his card. Unbelievable.  She was still talking about her tits! 

“Can I get that to go?” Michael answered more than asked.  

“Sure thing. Uh, what’s your name?”

“I’m Michael.” He was not staying here. He was not going to stay and become the Creepy Tit Guy.  Given her outgoing nature, Cat would probably have something to say about the way he ate his bagel, too, he was sure of it.  He would become Creepy Tit And Weirdo Bagel Eating Method Guy if he stayed. Maybe dealing with this at university would have been easier but this was supposed to be his relaxation spot. The coffee shop was ruined for him now, he would never come back.  Ever.  Fuck this place and fuck her.

“Alrighty, dude. Be right back!” 

“My name is not…dude..” Michael stepped away from the register, his voice fading away to nothing as Cat got his order ready, unable to hear him.  There was no one else coming in right now, it seemed he came during a lull. The other employees were still cleaning and restocking. 

“Here you go!” Cat said with a smile, handing him his bagel in a paper wrap and his coffee. 

Still not looking at her, he took his bagel and his coffee and got the fuck out of there, practically powerwalking away. 

 It was only until he made it to a nearby park bench that he finally saw what Cat had written on the other side of his bagel wrapper.  A whole paragraph, practically.  Michael, sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I was just trying to be funny, I swear.  Enjoy your coffee.  Hope you come back! 

Michael felt relief for a moment, before loudly groaning and spilling some of his coffee as he made to slap his forehead with that same hand.  He had left his fucking Tescoe bag at the coffee shop.  His bag that had his computer, his notebooks, his finished papers for a couple of classes. 

He had to go back.  Fuck.

“Yeah, sorry, but she said she knew you.”

Michael swore. The cashier informed him that Cat had just left, her shift was over.  She had taken the bag with her to the Oxford library.  Apparently, she was a student there?  Who fucking knew!?

“You need me to call the police?”

“No, that’s all right, I do know her.”  Michael lied.  “I told her earlier I’d be headed to the library later.  She probably figures she can catch me there.”  Without a single, civil ‘thank you’, Michael practically fled the shop.

He didn’t care how dumb it looked that he was frantically looking everywhere in the library for the familiar, turquoise hair.  People always looked at him funny.  It’s not like he could go to each of them individually and ask them hey could you please stop snidely whispering every time you look in my direction? Old Michael would go back to his dorm, have a cry, wonder why no one liked him and then quickly finish his homework in his dungeon of a bedroom before crying some more and then going to sleep.

New Michael didn’t give a shit.  New Michael was focused 100 percent on his academics and self-care, and right now his academics were in jeopardy because that Tesco bag held papers he had yet to type (Michael liked to hand write his work first, he felt it was more thorough). Also, maybe New Michael should better remember to not forget his shit at random shops.  Old Michael wouldn’t have forgotten. Whatever. 

After scanning the entire first floor of the library, he stomped to the second floor.  If she was a student here, how had he never seen her?  The hair would have been hard to miss.  Of course, it's not like he made it a habit to people watch anymore, especially in the library. 

Suddenly, he saw her.  Way in the corner, at a table right under a huge window, he saw her returning with her nose in a book from the shelves.  On the table, his bag.  

“Give it here.” Michael said, approaching the table.  Cat looked up from her book.

God, she was pretty.  He felt like a troll next to her.  It was so fucking unfair. More importantly though…why was he telling her to hand the bag back?  It was HIS.  He should just take it and go, without a word.  She had basically stolen it.  The girl was a thief and took it to give him a hard time because she was a bitch, like every other pretty girl he had ever interacted with and been cut down by. Maybe he could like her if he gave it a try…but the days of trying to get people to think he was cool or amazing were over.  She was a bitch and he knew it.

Mmm not what the note on your bagel showed, an annoying voice in his head began. That note could only have been written if she liked you because who would write that for a random customer?  You should talk to her an-  

Oh, fucking christ.  Old Michael.  Desperate-to-be-liked-by-someone-ANYONE Michael.  Shut the fuck up, Old Michael. You are dead.

“Yeah, no problem, I mean it is your bag!” Cat said cheerfully, closing her book and holding the bag out to him. “Sorry you had to run all this way to get it, Michael.”

“Um, it’s ok.  I run fast.” Michael said, immediately regretting it. God, that sounded so fucking stupid. He reached out for his bag.

Oh, so we’re no longer on that socializing ban, huh, Mr. Comedian?  I mean, what was THAT?!  Old Michael thought slyly. Shut up shut up shut up shut up!!!!! And, look!  She remembers your name! SHUT UP.

“-couldn’t just leave it there, you know?” Cat had finished saying.

Michael froze. “Huh?” 

What had she been talking about?  Shit. “Uh, why not?” Please let that be the right response.  Please let that be relevant to what she was fucking saying, Michael thought desperately. 

Cat rolled her eyes, but still sounded…not like a bitch?  “The laptop would definitely have been long gone if I hadn’t taken the bag.  I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Oh.  That was it.  That had been all she had said. Michael nodded and mumbled his thanks, ready to go…except Cat still held onto the bag. And stopped him with her next words.

“You play Fable a lot?”she asked.

It’s a trap.  She is going to make fun of you, he thought to himself.  Just get your shit and go. His hand was also still on HIS bag.  That she was not letting go of, for some reason.

“Yeah, I like it a lot.” 

Oh, how riveting.  That will make her swoon! Old Michael chimed in. 

“Really?” Cat responded.  Her tone wasn’t mocking.  It was…interested?  “I like it too but it feels unfinished, somehow.  I wish they would release Fallout 3 for these new consoles already, I bet it would be 1000 times better than this crap that Lionhead put out.”

Michael nodded.  She liked Fallout? She was impatient for the release?? Ask her to go with you to the midnight release next year!!! Ask her ask her ask her ask- No.  Shut up.  Be normal, for once in your life, be normal and chill about something. 

“-able doesn’t feel like it’s TRULY a good rpg, where you can do whatever you want, you know?  You can only go in one direction and can’t put off the main quest at all.”

She was still talking about Fable.  She was still talking about video games, something they both liked, something they had in common.

This is your chance, you know. Old Michael piped in.  Did any of those other people ever show even the slightest interest in the stuff you were into?  Ever? Ask her out!

“Ok,” Michael began. “I see your point, but the mechanics of the game aren’t the star so much as the incredible story and character designs-” 

While he continued to go on a tangent of Fable’s good qualities to Cat, trying his best not to sound too rant-y, Michael frantically gave the idea of asking her out some thought…

What if she said no? Hm what if she says yes? 

It’s stupid. The release for Fallout 3 is next year.  No, not even.  It’s October of that year, so…over a year away!  Almost two fucking years! What kind of weirdo would ask someone on a date almost two years from now?! Plus, she isn’t even into me.  She just likes video games, like any other person.  

Why is she still holding onto your bag, then? Old Michael thought smugly.  Why did she write that little note on your bagel? Why did she remember your name? Why-

All right, all right.  

“Right, so…want to come? To the midnight release for it?  For Fallout 3?” Michael asked, throwing all caution to the wind and swallowing his preemptive rejection rage that already was bubbling up.

“For Fallout?” Cat said, still holding onto the bag. “Which store you going to?” 

“Target.” Please say yes.  I don’t even know you and I know it’s weird to ask you somewhere practically two years from now but PLEASE SAy YES, Michael thought.

“Mm, nah.” Cat, said, letting go of the bag to dig in her bookbag.

Shit. 

Michael’s chest began to hurt, the hand holding his bag falling limply to his side.  He could feel his eyes begin to water.  She was just like the rest of them. Pathetic.  So pathe-

“You should come with me to Game on Queen Street, they always price cut!” Cat said, whipping out her blackberry. “Whatever price we show them for the game, they’ll shave 5 off it!  I mean, it’s not much but I’ll take what I can get! Here, put your number in.”

On sheer autopilot, Michael put his number in.  He felt ashamed the entire time, having choked back a scathing insult at the last minute before Cat had shoved her phone at him.

“Are you ok?” Cat took her phone back, eyeing him with a concerned look.

“I’m fine! It’s just-probably something I caught the other day, I can already feel the sniffles coming on and whatnot.  It’s nothing!” Michael babbled.

It cannot be this easy, Michael thought.  It’s been this easy the entire time?  Hanging out with a girl?  Talking to her?  Making plans?  Why did Oliver never like him when they had so much in common?

Holy shit, forget about fucking Oliver! You have a date with your future wife! Old Michael practically screeched. Jesus fucking Christ, you are desperate. Shut the fuck up!! Be Normal!

“You wanna go back to the shop and get another bagel?” Cat asked, putting her books away and sliding on her bookbag. “ We could use my discount, that way-”

“Yeah, let's go.” Michael cut in.  Grabbing her wrist and not waiting for her answer, he turned and began to swiftly move through the library.  He tried not to get excited as Cat uttered a quick ‘cool’ and kept pace with him.  

He also tried not to think about how awkwardly he was holding her hand. Everyone in the library was staring, he saw it in his peripheral.   It had looked so cool in his brain but now everyone could see how his stupid hand around her wrist slightly resembled him holding his limp-no no no no noooo shut up shut up SHUT UP. 

“Blueberry runs out quick.” Michael said, as they both briskly walked.   “I went one time at around this hour instead of my usual time and I had to settle for onion, which is gross as shit.” You’re rambling, Old Michael chided.  She fucking works there, she doesn’t need a play-by-play of bagel supply issues. Let her say something, idiot!  The reason he never noticed her before, it turned out, was that she hadn’t dyed her hair yet.  Cat also began to tell him about her history degree.  Something about the American Gilded age and how she was deep into research of the British Astors or something.  Michael surprisingly found himself not bored.  Were her eyes fucking green?  Oh, fuck, they were green!

They finally saw the shop in the distance.  Right after his anti-onion bagel tirade and her talk of her studies, he set straight into a long-winded verbal onslaught on the statistics of how rare green eyes were.  Micheal thought his heart would fall out of his asshole when Cat adjusted their hands so her fingers were laced with his.  About halfway through the distance, he had cut in when she mentioned her favorite bagel flavor (pineapple) and talked her ear off the rest of the way about his bagel eating method, insisting on its practicality but really prepping her so that she wouldn’t be horrified when she saw him do it and ditch him like fucking Oliver.  She laughed. 

“That’s so L.A. of you.  New York would hate your fucking guts, though.” she said, with a grin.   “Good thing I’m a California girl!  I’d rather deal with horrible traffic and scooped bagels than having to fight rats for sidewalk space.”

Right before they got to the doors, Michael went for it.  “I’m telling people that you’re my girlfriend.”, he said seriously.  She hadn’t run off when he had taken her hand (wrist).  She had noticed the Fable stickers on his computer.  She had remembered his name after one interaction. The American thing was a slight issue but hey, no one was perfect! 

“Cool, because I already told the staff that you were my boyfriend when I took your bag!” Cat responded. “I told them you like to pretend you don’t know me when you get mad and I just play along to pacify you.  It was the only way they were comfortable letting me take your bag!”

Be cool!  Do not fucking freak out! Act fucking normal! Do NOT scare her away! Say something a fucking weirdo would never in a million years say! Old Michael reminded him.

“Let’s go back to my place after and study some calculus.  Your grades in that sound horrendous.” Fucccccck.  You just got yourself a girlfriend and this is the shit you respond with?! Old Michael panicked. 

Cat smirked. “Only if you promise to fuck me into your mattress after.”

Michael stared at her, almost daring her to say she was kidding.  When she didn’t and her gaze briefly dropped to his lips, he abandoned any doubts he had and turned to walk away from the shop, practically dragging Cat with him.  

Cat giggled and adjusted herself to clutch at his arm with both hands, her legs and his in perfect sync as they made their way to Michael’s room.

—------------

“What the fuck?” Felix said to Oliver, pointing. Both were sitting on a bench, relaxing a bit before their next class.

 “Didn’t he go fucking mental at you the first day? Not to be a dick or anything but is she safe with that guy?”  

Oliver followed Felix’s finger and froze.  

He gaped at what he saw:

Michael fucking Gavey, math genius slash freak of nature, walking happily with the pretty American girl who had said no to their bar hopping invite just last week.  It was definitely surprising, but Oliver was now more determined than ever.  If a fucking social reject like Gavey could get what he was after, then someone like himself was sure to have the same luck if he continued to put in the effort.

THE END

[i4bellingham]

PLS can I request! I really love ur fics💓💓 can I request Trent going on a date with very shy reader and he finds it kinda cute but then she starts to speak up as they get to know eachother? pls pls pls pls pls !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DEAREST : trent alexander-arnold x reader

note: match games don't necessarily align with what happens in real life so you can ignore that 💀 we're trying to be on the good vibes here so ofc liverpool wins 😤 + tried a different writing style with this one. thank you so much to anon for requesting! i know this took me a while to post so i would like to apologize for that and i feel like the outcome isn't what you exactly asked for but here it is 😭 i’m still in a writing slump but i’m starting to push myself to write again at the very least wskdbsjsj

You're very adorable, Trent thinks so as he stares at you from across the table during your first date.

You can’t look him in the eye properly, let alone hold a conversation without stuttering over your words. But Trent thinks that it's okay. It's very cute of you. He doesn't mind that so long as you're not actually intimidated by him.

Trent knows that he can come off as deadpan most of the time. With a face that looks like everything had left him, like he's not happy and enjoying although that's just how his face really is. He's not bothered by that but he is concerned that you're terrified of him in reality. That's something that he can't live by.

But your second date comes by and although the situation with you being unable to look at him properly without stumbling over your sentences wasn't entirely fixed, Trent at least knows that you like him the same because if that's not the case, then why would you agree to a second date with him. Right?

During that, you with your best tries to explain why you can't withhold conversations with him without your stuttering, or how you get so flustered easily by a single glance at Trent.

He almost laughs at your explanation, but kept himself from doing so because he doesn't want to come off as obnoxious; even though his supposed laugh is the embodiment of how much he wanted to cuddle you right then and there for being so adorable.

“I-I know you already notice that I-I you know... st-stutter a lot during conversations and I j-just uh want to apologize for that I swear to you I uh I uhm I’m not like this every time... it's just you're-you’re very gorgeous and I just feel flustered whenever I look directly at youㅡplease don’t smile or I’ll literally pass out right here-”

Trent nods his head understandingly but the smile on his lips doesn't fade. Not even until three days after your second date.

The third date came easily after that, a week right after the second date which was prompted by you asking the scouser for an Italian dinner night over at yours. And Trent of course doesn't let the opportunity pass to get to know you better.

The dinner, although you've told him that you'll prepare everything for your three course meal, was cooked with his help, hence reducing the prepping for a shorter amount of time than what would it have been had you not let Trent helped.

The conversation during that dinner went a lot more smoothly. He can't exactly tell what changed but he assumed that maybe it's because of the light banter and jokes being exchanged while cooking for your dinner date.

You managed to look at him in the eye for more than 20 seconds, a relevant and significant observation for Trent, and you countered his playful jabs with your own and even responded with a few sarcastic quips that Trent knew were something out of your zone. He appreciated the invite for the dinner date but he appreciated that you're learning to warm up to him more, most of all.

Third time’s a charm some may say, and Trent thinks so too because as your fourth date came by, he couldn't have been more surprised to hear you initiate conversations with him ranging from topics about your Uni to the latest gossip in your friend group that definitely piqued Trent’s interest. He was amused, enticed and hooked all at the same time as you rambled on how your week had gone sour due to a conflict within your friends.

He had offered some of his remarks that almost immediately you entertained, mainly agreeing with his points of what should have been done as you nod your head accordingly to his words.

Fifth date came by easily as it was initiated and Trent couldn't have been more excited to see you a week after the last date.

You were supposed to meet up over coffee three days after the fourth date ended but unfortunately, you had some things going on at Uni that occupied your schedule for two entire days. Hence why when you told Trent about a specific vacant date in your calendar (which fortunately and coincidentally aligned with one of his games), he had immediately asked for you to come visit Anfield to watch their football game live.

You certainly did not receive a package that exact afternoon after Trent had asked you to come watch their game in the mail. It was a football kit, Trent’s kit to be exact with a hand-written letter from the man himself.

Game day comes by and donned your red Liverpool kit, you're sat on the reserved seating arrangement for you and the other family members and friends of the other Liverpool players.

You managed to meet some of the girlfriends and wives of Trent’s teammates and was even invited in a coffee date out with some of them the very next week. You proceeded to watch the entire game with them after that, clutching on your red scarf the entire time as the play progressed, only letting go of it temporarily during the half time before holding it like your life depended on the fabric when the second half of the match began.

Luckily enough, the game ended on Liverpool’s win. But instead of going home directly, Trent, despite playing nearly the entire game actually asks you if he can come over. Just for the win, you tell him yes as you celebrate their victory by popping a champagne bottle open with some finger snacks you have in store.

What cozy night it should have been became a chaotic one as the both of your drunken state started a dance battle in the middle of your living room before transitioning into a failed attempt at karaoke that woke most of your neighbors.

The next morning after that is spent on your bed with Trent and your raging headaches and hangover; simply put, it was a memorable date night that would be reminisced even five years later as you're both saying your wedding vows in front of your families and friends.

[bp4545]

The Kitchens (My Sunshine - Part 2)

Word Count: 2000 almost exactly

Warnings: Swearing? (If it bothers you), mentions of sexual activity(barely)

Summary: You sneak into the kitchens for a late night snack, but you bump into someone on the way...

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.

--------------------------------

It was around 2:16 am in the morning. You couldn't sleep at all. There was just too many things going on in your mind, this year you felt all the pressure coming back in a rush. You were a sixteen year old girl in Hogwarts, fifth year was something you weren't looking forward to very much, I mean you were only 2 weeks in so far. It seemed like this year would be full of boredom. I mean first year was great, everything was new and all, especially for a muggleborn like you, it was all an adventure. Second and third year was all about making new friends and mucking around, Fourth year was all about the excitement of Yule ball and the Triwizard tournaments. Fifth year needed to be real drama filled for it to top last year.

You glanced back at your clock again. 2:23 am. You groaned in frustration, it must've been your period or something, but you were suddenly craving those little French macarons you remember tasting when the Beauxbatons students had come over last year. Surely they would have some in the kitchens still?

You were about to find out. You couldn't sleep anyway, a small snack at this time of night wouldn't hurt?

You quietly shifted yourself out of bed, wincing as the cold air hit your warm skin. You quickly threw on your favourite blue hoodie that was oversized. You slipped on your fluffy muggle slippers that your parents had gifted you and headed out the dorm room quietly; careful not to wake Hannah up.

After you had exited your dorm room, you grabbed the claw clip inside the pocket of your hoodie and clipped up your hair. You slowly made your way up to the kitchens, your craving for any sweet little treats growing stronger with each step. Determination filled your veins as you quickened your pace in search of the kitchens. 

Finally you arrived at the kitchens, you started searching through the cupboards and looking for anything that could satisfy your cravings. You sighed in content as you found the large cupboard full of your favourite muggle sweet treats, macarons, tarts, muffins, muesli bars, chocolate fingers. Grabbing your desired treats, you placed them on the counter and opened them, the plastic wrap making an awful lot of noise.

"Hungry?" You heard a voice behind you and you froze. It was a deep attractive voice.

You turned around, the warm candles of the kitchen illuminated his face perfectly. Draco Malfoy was talking to you. You stood there for a while, trying to think of how else to answer his question. You were usually a really talkative person who could give good comebacks, so seeing yourself tongue tied around him was odd.

"What the fuck do you want Malfoy?" You spat out shocked at how toxic your voice sounded.

"Woah, feisty." he chuckled. God why is his laugh so attractive. "I was just wondering what you were doing in the kitchens at this time of night" he shrugged.

"I could ask you the same question" you shot back at him without a second thought. You were quite good at that. "I'm just hungry okay? And my cramps are killing me." You said in a slightly whiny voice as your period cramps started to kick in once again.

"Cramps?" he said, and you swear you saw a flash of concern in his eyes. But as soon as you noticed it, it disappeared. 

"Yeah. My period cramps." you said, not awkward about the topic.; it was normal

"So that's why you have a hoard of sweets in front of you. Mind if I have some?" Draco eyed at your treats. You defensively covered them with your arms. Why was he even talking to you? It's not like he has ever shown interest in you before. the only time you two ever spoke to each other is if you needed to in class. What was he even doing here.

"No. I found it, go find your own food." you retorted playfully.

"Alright, alright" He put his hands up in defeat and left to find something. He came back with two muffins in his hand. 

"Walnut and coffee" he said as he handed you one of the muffins in his hand. You were feeling a bit curious, so you took the walnut and coffee flavoured muffin out of his hand cautiously. You took a few bites of it and furrowed your brows. Why does it actually taste really good?

"Like it? They're my favourite muffins" he said, as he inspected your facial expressions while eating the muffin.

You didn't answer him, you just looked at him with confusion.

"Draco why are you even talking to me? Don't you have this big thing about not talking to Hufflepuffs, let alone Muggleborn ones?"

----------------------------

Draco's POV

"Hungry?" I asked the girl as I watched her freeze in her place.

Y/n turned around, and stood there for a while. I'd never really talked to her much, I never had anything to say to her, but I did find it particularly amusing to find her roaming the kitchens at this ungodly hour, with snacks laid all over the counter.

"What the fuck do you want Malfoy?" she spat at me. I knew she didn't like me, but I didn't think it would cause such a reaction at just the sight of me. Sure I had made fun of her friends in the past, but I had never insulted her personally. I had respect for her, plus this year I've a change of heart, I want to be a better person, for many different reasons, I'm was just sick of being a stuck up prick.

"Woah, feisty." I chuckled. "I was just wondering what you were doing in the kitchens at this time of night" I shrugged.

"I could ask you the same question" she shot back at me with a glare. "I'm just hungry okay? And my cramps are killing me." 

"Cramps?" I said. I was genuinely confused, and I must admit when y/n said that I did get a bit worried, though I didn't know why. I had no reason to care about her after all. 

"Yeah. My period cramps." Ah, that made more sense. I knew a little bit about girls on their periods. They were usually moody, hungry, and had cramps often. That's what Blaise told me anyway.

"So that's why you have a hoard of sweets in front of you. Mind if I have some?" I looked at the treats that she was defending.

"No. I found it, go find your own food." she retorted. She's probably confused why I'm talking to her. 

"Alright, alright" I went to the pantries to find some treats that I might like. Walnut and Coffee, my favourite. I grabbed two just in case y/n wanted to try some.

"Walnut and coffee" I said as I handed her one of the muffins. "Like it? They're my favourite muffins" I said. She showed no facial expression, so I wasn't quite sure if she was enjoying it or not. She wasn't spitting it our in disgust, so I figured that she found it tolerable at the least.

She was quick to change the subject.

"Draco why are you even talking to me? Don't you have this big thing about not talking to Hufflepuffs, let alone Muggleborn ones?" 

Draco. I wasn't too sure why she was calling me that. It was sort of nice to have someone call me by my first name, most people usually just spat out my last name. 

I thought about her question. Why was I talking to her? I mean, I could've just walked past her and carried on with my patrol, but instead I joined her. I did need her help though, but right now didn't seem like an appropriate time. She was having cramps and was probably really hungry. Plus I don't think I want to mess with this girl on her period. I was enjoying her company though, as much as I wish I wasn't.

"Well I guess my opinions have changed. I think you'll find that I don't mind people from other houses now. I think I'm quite fond of muggleborns now actually." I wasn't lying. I waited for y/n to respond. She just gasped dramatically.

"Draco? Fond of muggleborns? His father must be hearing about this!" And she burst into a fit of laughter. Her laugh was pretty, I can't deny, it's quite contagious too. I ended up joining in with her laughter. She was a nice person to be around, from what I knew she didn't have any enemies at this school.

----------------------

Your POV

You and Draco chatted for a while in the kitchens. You sort of forgot about how stuck up he was, and just started talking to him like he was one of your friends. You started to think that he actually wasn't that bad at all. I mean maybe he has changed like he said so. 

You let out a yawn, and he yawned a few seconds after.

"I think I'm going to go back to my dorms" you giggled "It's like 3:30 am"

"Yeah you probably should go back to sleep" He paused for a while "Do you want me to drop you off to your dorm?"

You were a bit shocked by his kind gesture. I mean Draco being kind to you was a shock in itself, him talking to you was even more shocking, but walking you to your dorm? That seemed a bit fishy in your opinion, but maybe he was genuinely being kind. You hoped he was.

"Uhh" you contemplated what you were about to say next. "Sure I guess". He flashed you a small smile, and the two of you walked towards the Hufflepuff dorms in silence. 

"I've never been to the Hufflepuff area of Hogwarts" Draco said, breaking the silence. "It's quite nice"

"Yeah I guess it is" You said. 

"I've been to every other houses common room and dorm areas, but not Hufflepuff. It's probably because I've never slept with a Hufflepuff girl yet" He chuckled. He was probably hoping that you were going to laugh at the joke too, but instead he watched your face contort into a grimace. You didn't know how to reply to that, talking so openly about the girls that he has slept with was a bit disgusting in your opinion. Though it did make you wonder how good he was in bed.

"I don't do that anymore y/n" he said a bit quieter, he probably noticed that you found it a bit awkward "I used to, but I've changed". You believed him, he did seem like a different person now.

"I believe you" you stated. Then you reached your dorm room. "I guess this is goodnight then"

"Yeah, I had a good time y/n" he admitted, "See you around, goodnight". His kindness once again took you by surprise, and he smiled at you. Softly, but it was genuine. Smiles suited him well.

"Goodnight Draco" You said, and you closed the door as you walked into your dorm.

He found it odd that you were still calling him by his first name. He wasn't complaining. 

You walked further into the dorm room, you were still recovering from your encounter with Draco. You didn't like him like that did you? Then why were you feeling hot all of a sudden? Gosh he was charming, and he was funny, but why does he all of a sudden have a change of heart? You were full of questions, hoping they'd be answered.

---

a/n: hopefully you enjoyed his chapter! I have been struggling to keep up with writing because I have so many ideas but not enough time due to my exams, sorry guys:)

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Lonely Times

I've been hooked on time loop Steddie fics, that's my drug of choice. And I have thoughts because when don't I have those...

What would it look like if one of the time loop conditions was that Steve can't tell anyone? Whenever he tries to, there is an immediate reset, and Steve tries working around it, really does, but it's as if whatever caused this wants him to suffer alone. He goes through several rapid loops just trying to communicate his concerns, but that's a no-go. Changing their plan turns out to be way more difficult because Steve isn't the brains of the group and everyone tends to trust Nancy more with planning, so he sets out to collect as much information as possible on his own.

Apart from the obvious downsides to all of this - dying, seeing his loved ones die, the healing of his wounds resetting every day - the worst part is having to pretend not to know anything others are saying. The vision Vecna showed Nancy? He knows it word by word, but if he tries to interrupt, summarize it faster, click, a reset happens. So he has to play his part, nod along, ask questions - at least his reactions don't need to stay the same, but it's tedious and it makes him feel so alone.

He's tried talking to Eddie more times than he cares to admit, has tried to figure out if there is a way to keep Eddie out of harm's way. For Max, the solution is more clear, stopping Jason Carver from destroying her lifeline - a painful lesson he learned the one time he squeezed into the Creel House team - was obvious, but with Eddie the danger doesn't lie only outside, in the swarms of demobats, it's Eddie's painful disregard for his own life. He's had numerous discussions with Eddie, going in his responses from appreciative to annoyed to genuinely curious because with what Steve knows will happen, he wonders - why doesn't Eddie ever talk about himself apart from all the coward stuff? He wants to see others happy so badly he'll throw his life away without a single thought. Steve finds the familiarity painful. And so keeps asking, keeps prodding, collects information like pieces of a puzzle and he can't help himself, the picture that starts showing up is lovely, it is complex and Steve knows he simply has to bring this damaged boy home, home to his loud music, his loving uncle, his secret ambitions.

He heads to Eddie's trailer when others are still talking, he says he needs some fresh air. He pokes around, finds all the weaknesses, the vents, the fragile doors. Even though others stare at him as if he grew a second head, he gives them all the details, suggests how they should adjust the planned defenses. It's not enough, but Steve has all the power in the world now, he knows how to work the system. The second anything goes wrong, he grabs Robin's shoulder and mutters the magical words: "I'm stuck in a time loop". Eddie won't remember the pain tomorrow, Eddie won't remember the things he told him about his mother, about how he got held back in school because the principal caught him kissing his nephew and that sparked a long vendetta that Eddie couldn't win against. It doesn't matter if Eddie doesn't remember, Steve will spare him the pain, will spare Dustin from losing him all over again. Maybe Steve also selfishly wants to spare himself.

The repetition drives him crazy, but it makes him more bold, less hesitant. He spends more time with Eddie in each loop, talks to him about all the topics in the world, and his heart aches whenever it's go time because he already expects another reset. If he sees any mistakes repeated, knows they won't make it, he just says the magic words and there it is, a second chance, third, fourth, twentieth. He doesn't even count, time doesn't flow the way it should in purgatory anyway.

"I think I've been falling for you," he says once to Eddie, ready to follow the sentence with the spoken reset button, but it doesn't happen, not then. Because Eddie looks at him, his dark eyes and full of fondness, and maybe he's been feeling desperate too because he tosses away the spiked shield and reaches out, strokes Steve's cheek, and Steve's feeling brave and stupid. "I want to know more about you. You're so interesting Eddie, so vibrant, and I don't care if it sounds like I'm losing my mind, because nothing matters to me now than seeing you alive and happy. To have you walk the stage and give the principal the biggest fuck you of his life because you made it. To go on tour or just play at the Hideout, to keep meeting with all the tiny shitheads and create any and all adventures you want, I...I need to see that happen." He covers Eddie's hand with his own. "Please tell me you understand," he whispers and Eddie does, not in words, he kisses Steve right there and then.

When Steve has to say the words that evening, when one of the vines breaks Nancy's leg and they hear Vecna walking down the stairs, disturbed by the muffled scream of pain, he decides that he will do anything and everything to have those lips against his again.

"I'm stuck in a time loop, Nance."

"Hey Robin, I've lived through this day before."

"Eddie is about to die in an hour and the day will reset."

In the end, he figures out the magical combination, just like he figured out Eddie, through trial and error and dedication. He proposes changes to the plan, adding to the "bait" - getting an additional speaker and placing it in another trailer, switching between them to keep the bats occupied, to draw them from one place to another. He's seen it many times already, Eddie can never feel like his job is done. He will keep him occupied. He will keep him safe.

Erica has to move positions, she signals from somewhere else to avoid being spotted. Lucas barricades the doors and places Max's walkman to a safer position. Steve and Nancy make their way upstairs and get Vecna, Robin stays outside and cuts off his escape with more Molotov cocktails until the two make it back.

And just like that, a dam breaks in their minds. "What..." mutters Nancy and stares at Steve as if she saw him for the first time. "Have we been through this before? I feel like..."

"Like there's a shit ton of memories in your head that never happened?" adds Robin and expects Steve to explain, knows he had something to do with it, but he doesn't have the time or energy for that, he just stares in the direction of the trailer park and runs, because if this is it, if others remember, then-

He meets Eddie halfway there, in the forest, near the place when Eddie told him a lifetime ago he should get Nancy back. "You..." wheezes Eddie and Steve presses the knuckles of his hand to his mouth to stifle an ugly sob, "...knew all along, didn't you?"

"Yes," whispers Steve and can't help it, pulls Eddie into a crushing hug, his own injuries be damned. "For such a long time, Eddie. It never worked out, I don't know how many times, but it's okay now, you remember, I...I wanted to tell you so badly." He's full on crying now, sobbing into Eddie's neck and he vaguely registers Eddie's hand stroking his back.

He's about to apologize and pull back, he never wanted to dump all this on Eddie, but Eddie holds him just as tight and his long fingers find their way into Steve's hair, gently massaging his head. "You did so good, Steve," he says and his voice sounds broken, quiet. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that alone. I wish I remembered all of that sooner."

Steve gives a wet chuckle, still buried in Eddie's shoulder. "All of that, huh?" He wonders if Eddie remembers really everything, because then-

"Everything. But especially that one moment. I hope you haven't changed your mind about the falling thing," and Eddie is finally pulling away, just a little, to look into Steve's eyes. "Because if that was the only time I get to kiss you, this will be my villain origin backstory."

They are both laughing now, staring at each other through the tears and they can hear steps getting closer, Nancy and Robin finally catching up. "I'm pretty sure the info you have is outdated," says Steve and pulls Eddie closer, if that's even possible. "I'm way past falling now. I'm completely gone for you, man."

"Good, then we have something in common. I still don't get how you did it, how this whole loop thing came about, but I don't give a fuck. This is our year, baby," he grins at Steve.

And Eddie is right. It is.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Poor Nanami. Hes got all problems rn (one kid uncondcious, two kids really really insisting they did the grand theft auto, one going throufh the most insane emotional journey possible)

I keep thinking about how in the same conversation Yuuta both asked Nanami to neglect him more (insanely concerning) and then also said hed kill himself in front of him (also insanely concerning) after like 5 hours ago going youre *not* my dad. Parenthood is tough.

Nanami, going onto r/Parenting for help with this shit:

I (27M) am the father of three. My eldest (16M) was recently introduced to my two younger children (15F & 14M) under less than ideal circumstances. They all seem to be getting along well—my eldest son and daughter already appear to be friends. My youngest son had to be hospitalized, and the eldest has developed a very protective bond with him. This is one of the issues—I’m harboring some concerns that he may kill the people who hurt my youngest in his defense.

I have a series of other problems that have arisen in the last twelve hour span:

First, my daughter recently stole a car to transport her brother to medical attention after discovering his injuries. My youngest now insists that he was the one who stole it, despite being blind and bleeding out at the time of the theft. How do I convince him that it was okay that the car was stolen and to stop distressing himself with trying to take the blame?

Second, my eldest went through a medical issue recently that destabilized his emotional control, likely contributing to his strong bond with my youngest and the homicidal thoughts. I'm attempting to get him to rest; however, this makes him feel like he's failing to protect my youngest. How do I convince him to rest and take care of his own needs?

Third, the same eldest told me that I’m not his father, asked me to neglect him more, and told me that he’d kill himself in front of me if I tried to discuss puberty with him. Our relationship is very new, and I believe he was being hyperbolic in many of his statements, but I want to communicate to him that he can safely come to me with any issues he may face. How can I best do this?

Fourth, I have recently uncovered reason to believe that my daughter is harboring an active fear that we may one day cut her off from her younger brother permanently. We are currently parenting them through a non-sexual, platonic polycule, and I decided that I was obligated to share this information with the others so that we may address it as a family. Now, however, she has been avoiding me, and I fear she may trust me less. How do I address both the breach in trust and the likely fears of abandonment? I only want her to be happy.

Fifth, my eldest appears to have a relationship of indeterminate nature with his four closest friends. They were all found sleeping in the same bed together, are rarely apart, and he spends most of his time with his best friend/possible romantic partner (15F), though they have gotten in several physical confrontations in the twelve hours I have known them. It is unclear whether their relationship is platonic, romantic, or queerplatonic in nature, though his best friend does appear to be making romantic overtures to my daughter. I obviously support whatever their nature may take (both due to my pre-existing personal opinions and the obviously unique nature of the relationship I have with my coparenting polycule), but I do believe that the answers may affect what topics should be covered in any discussion we may have on puberty and sexual wellbeing. Obviously, this talk is not happening any time soon, due to the aforementioned threat to kill himself in front of me if I attempted to discuss such topics, but I’d like to be prepared should the need arise. Does anyone have any recommendations on how to casually communicate that I support him in whatever form of relationship he finds himself in? Should I cover all of the bases when I give him the talk just in case?

I consider myself somewhat of a veteran parent (I have been raising children for more than a decade now), but these last twelve hours have surprised me with how taxing they've been. Has anyone encountered anything like this? Any advice will be appreciated.

Edit: My youngest had to be hospitalized because his extended family, who is not allowed any contact with him, kidnapped him and injured him to the point of hospitalization. This is not what I'm seeking advice on. We are more than capable of formulating our plans for revenge without the aid of strangers on the internet.

Second Edit: Please stop asking how I'm able to be the father of three teenagers at the age of 27. All of my children were adopted. No one needs to call the police.

Third Edit: My eldest had not yet met his younger siblings because he was only recently adopted under rather dire circumstances. The ex-boyfriend of a member of our coparenting group recently attempted to murder him (for reasons unrelated to the group), and then in the aftermath a different group attempted to force him into indentured servitude. We were looking to allow him time to adjust to his new circumstances before introducing him to his siblings.

Fourth Edit: Yes, I adopted my first two children when I was sixteen. This was not so much allowed as no one could stop us. I fail to see the relevance in this to the problem at hand; however, due to the influx of questions I have decided to provide the information anyway.

Fifth Edit: Yes, I was the poster who sought advice all those years ago regarding the young children that my upperclassman had somehow acquired. No, I still do not know where he got them from. It no longer matters, because we ended up keeping them and are raising them ourselves. Please direct all further comments to the actual questions asked.

[imthursdaysyme]

are you cuban? or not white in anyway? otherwise its really really weird for you to racebend white characters lol. it comes across performative (and a but fetish-y). why not draw the canon characters of colour? (also making the canonical drug dealer character latino is a bad look)

So, there are many things I want to say about this. I want to give an answer that isn't my instinctive response of "fuck you and i hope you shit your pants in your sleep", so I will attempt to address these questions and concerns.

I do find it funny that you sent another anonymous ask pretty much saying the same thing, because apparently, I didn't reply to your ask fast enough. For context, it is; "there are white cubans so do you enjoy cuban culture and think steve would fit in well with that? in that case you don't need to brownface a white character. or do you just want to fetishize hispanic cubans? also its really weird to make the only drug dealer character latino i mean come on......".

So first things first. No, I am not Cuban, but I am part Native American and was raised around primarily Hispanic people my entire life due to where I lived.

Second. I find it grossly performative for you to send this ask telling me not to headcanon a character a different race. I think this type of activism is extremist and unfounded in actual ideas or beliefs other than your need to feel 'better than' or superior to others.

In regard to fetishism, I would like to mention first to people that are not you, that fetishism of people of color is rampant and highly uncomfortable. It is seen recently with the new character of Miguel in the animated movie "Across The Spiderverse".

But back to the subject at hand, which happens to be my art of Steve Harrington, I want to ask where in all of my art is there fetish content? Are there multiple drawings or comments focusing on his looks? How hot I think he is? Personally, I don't see that.

I notice that in today's culture, people tend to throw around new words they learned to use as an end-all-be-all. Their winning card up their sleeve. But it's not, because you don't even use the word correctly. To make note of what fetishism is, I'll put the definitions below.

: an object or bodily part whose real or fantasied presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification and that is an object of fixation to the extent that it may interfere with complete sexual expression

or: an object of irrational reverence or obsessive devotion

To take these definitions we find that first, it is a topic for sexual gratification. And in my art, I'm personally not seeing anything sexual come into play. Sure, I put him in crop tops and short shorts. But I do that because I feel it fits his character regardless of race because of his personality and the time they were living in. I personally wear crop tops and don't set out to be sexualized, so if you see it in that way, I fear we may be encroaching on what I consider a "you problem".

Third, on you speculating on why I can't just keep Steve Harrington white as he is in canon. In multiple places, I do in fact mention that I am not drawing canon. I'm drawing headcanons. Headcanons, described by the dictionary, is "something that a fan imagines to be true about a character even though no information supporting that belief is spelled out in the text." So, this ask isn't quite viable seeing that I have never said I was drawing the canon version of Steve Harrington.

Fourth, you mention that I "brownface". I fear that you may also be the person that had a dry broom handle fucked up their ass when the new Ariel movie came out.

Fifth, you say that my half-Latino Eddie Munson is "a bad look". To this, I find it interesting that your first connection was drug dealing alongside a Latino character. Personally, I didn't take drug dealing into consideration. And rather a funny headcanon I saw of someone saying Latino Wayne Munson would cook peppers to "smoke" Eddie and his friends out of the house. And again, as someone who was raised primarily by Hispanic influence, my mother did the exact same thing. If you decide that every Latino character is based on stereotypes, then live your life that way, but don't tell me what is and isn't a bad look, seeing that you are the only person who has a problem with it.

Sixth, you ask why I don't just draw the canon characters of color. I will. I have sketches of them. But since you obviously have looked through my art, you might notice that I only really draw the older teens. They are my favorite to talk about and draw.

On that, Isn't it interesting that there are only three people of color in the show? Two are siblings, and one is a side character introduced in the last published season. This is why I add people of color into my headcanons. I find, that if I can do whatever I want with a personal interpretation of a character, I am going to add diversity where I can.

I think it's important as a culture of fans that produce new content over a piece of media, to fix, change, and do what the original writers didn't. We see this commonly in sexuality headcanons because there aren't that many canon lgbtq+ characters. Typically, fan-given content adds minority or oppressed groups that the original creators did not give. Because frankly, people of color deserve to see themselves in the media. Lgbtq+ people deserve to see themselves in the media. If we continue to stay true to canon exactly with all of our fan spaces, we would be found boring, repetitive, and stale. The idea of fan spaces is to take canon and expand it. To have fun with it and to add ideas and quirks to the characters that other people can relate to where they once could not.

I will not apologize for getting bored of every character being white. I will not change what I am doing either. Because I am not doing anything wrong, moral, or unjust in any way. I think the main problem comes with you finding so much hate with a silly drawing of Steve Harrington simply because he isn't white. So I wonder why you find him and Eddie not being white so concerning.

I hope this helps.

[t3a-tan]

How long did it take for Oliver and James to become friends?

After the third or fourth time of Oliver coming to James specifically the human began considering them friends, but it took Oliver a while to realize what they were. Here's a short interaction to demonstrate when they officially became friends..! ^^

---

"It's getting late. Do you want to just stay and hang out?" Everytime Oliver appeared it was fast… he came to James, told him what had happened, and then would promptly leave after things were sorted. Despite that, they had a few moments where James felt like they were bonding.

Apparently, that wasn't reciprocated.

Oliver looked up at him with a confused expression. "Stay and hang out? Why? You've already helped me with what I asked." There was no maliciousness or smugness to his tone; genuinely the borrower didn't understand why James would ask such a thing out of nowhere.

"Wh— because we're friends..?" James responded, raising an eyebrow at the borrower's blunt response.

This was the ninth time Oliver had sought out James specifically. He didn't do that with other humans— he checked in with young children every now and then, but with adults he didn't tend to make repeat visits. Despite that, Oliver hadn't really thought much of it. James was nice and helpful, but a friend?

Oliver wasn't exactly sure what a friend was… he knew of them, but he didn't really have any himself. He was too busy working. Why would a human want to be friends with a borrower anyway? Didn't they have human friends?

"Are we?" He hummed. "Sorry, I didn't realize." Oliver bowed his head in apology slightly. James sputtered.

"Y-you didn't?? Wh...but then why do you keep coming back here? You even said you don't team up with other humans..!" James was a little hurt by the realization that Oliver hadn't thought they were friends the entire time. But, at the same time, he knew that Oliver's nature was very intelligent, but socially not very aware.

"It makes the most sense. Going to different adult humans every time poses a significant risk the more I would do it. I trust you, so I come to you instead." Oliver explained, but his stoicism faltered a little when he saw that James seemed to feel hurt by this fact. "I haven't had a friend before. So I apologize if I hurt your feelings… I do value your company." He finished, a little unsure about his own words as this was such new territory for him.

James let out a sigh, collapsing back onto the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. He understood that Oliver was a bit... odd and socially unaware. But he thought it was mutual. He'd help the borrower anyway of course, but it did feel a little sad to have thought they were friends only to be so bluntly told that they weren't.

"I would like to stay, if only a little longer. It would be nice to just talk… rather than working." Oliver insisted. James bristled, then looked over to the tiny man standing upon his coffee table. The words were sincere...Oliver had that determined glint in his eyes that meant he was serious.

And James knew by now that the borrower wasn't a liar.

"You can stay as long as you want, mate. No one else comes to see me anyway…" He hadn't meant to come across as whiny...he was disappointed in the fact that Oliver hadn't been thinking the same thing this whole time. But then again… James knew that with a lot of things Oliver needed a more direct approach, so he knew there was no malice in Oliver's words.

Oliver tilted his head again. "No one? Humans usually have a handful of companions at your age." He remarked, and James dramatically held his heart, acting pained and falling onto his back across the cushions.

"You wound me…" He complained, then relaxed again, looking at the furrowed concern Oliver was showing and chuckling. "I'm fine. Not actually injured… But fuck, Oliver, you can be so brutal with your words sometimes.."

Oliver blinked. "Sorry, did I say something wrong? I didn't realize the topic of friendship was so hurtful. Is it because you're alone even at this age?" He asked, still remaining blunt and unaware of the problem. James couldn't help but let out a laugh, shaking his head.

"No. You aren't wrong… but usually not having any friends makes people feel bad. That's all." He explained. Oliver's expression softened as he nodded, taking note of that information as if James was bestowing some secret knowledge upon him.

"Ah I see. It is quite normal for borrowers to not have friendships outside of family, so we don't find it as upsetting. I didn't mean to offend you." The borrower stated, bowing his head apologetically once more. James waved his hand dismissively.

"It's fine." He assured. Seeing Oliver make a gesture towards one of his hands, James offered it as Oliver had taught him to before, watching as the borrower climbed on. At this point it was routine, and neither James nor Oliver were bothered by the interaction at all. James brought his hand over to the arm of the sofa, letting him step off. "Speaking of... You never talk about your family. What are they like?"

Oliver paused, taking longer than usual to respond…

"I'm a fairly unlucky borrower. My family is all dead. Or...presumed dead in some instances, since I haven't exactly found all the corpses." James was taken aback by the new information, leaning away from Oliver as if being at any comfortable distance was now intrusive. The way he said that...meant he had at least seen some corpses. James swallowed thickly.

"My sister drowned. My mother fell ill, and my father went to go collect herbs to treat her but never returned, so she passed away. I did manage to find his bag, although it was broken, indicating that he had been attacked by an animal of some kind. Probably a fox, based on what I recall…" Oliver explained, as calmly as one would talk about what they had for lunch that day.

"I was ten, so of course I went to live with my aunt and uncle who were indoor borrowers. And everything was fine there. I had two cousins, both about a decade or so younger than me… but I went to visit them a couple years ago only to find that the walls had traces of being broken into, and blood stains in various areas of the old den. I did find my uncle's body discarded outside, though he wasn't in the most recognisable condition, but my cousins and aunt are missing and presumed dead. The likely culprit is one or more humans." He finished, very matter-of-fact.

James was stunned to silence for a few moments.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Oliver. Are you okay?" He asked, shocked and horrified by all that had been just dumped onto him. He was used to Oliver going on random long tangents every now and then, but usually it wasn't this viscerally traumatizing. And yet, Oliver had the audacity to give him a confused look.

"Yes? Why do you ask?"

James sighed exasperatedly, rephrasing his words. "I mean… That sounds really traumatic. I'm surprised you're as calm as you are right now…"

Oliver hummed, a frown appearing on his face. "I look calm on the outside. I struggle with being as expressive as others, but I can assure you, I am upset about the things that happened. However, what happened will remain...I cannot change it. My energy is better spent bettering the lives and safety of others rather than wallowing in despair." His brows furrowed. "I do hope though… that my cousins are alright. Perhaps they are just far away and cannot return to see me. I'd like to think that's the case. Sammy and Tanner were only young, after all."

"I hope so too." James agreed. Silence fell over the two again— the human needed a few moments to process what he had been told. He was even more surprised now that Oliver was so fearless towards humans, knowing that Oliver had actually experienced how bad humans could be. And it kind of made him feel odd in this position… Guilty, despite having had nothing to do with what happened.

"You don't need to feel pity for me." Oliver announced, noticing how quiet and dejected James had become. Every now and then he could be very perceptive— it always startled James when he was. "I'm not triggered by being in the presence of you either. You are a person like me. Just larger. I do not see you as James the human, I see you as just James...my friend."

James caught the slight smile on Oliver's face and he couldn't help but relax. Hearing Oliver say that so directly was nice… He admired the borrower a lot for how he saw the world. It was always surprising when he remembered that Oliver was younger than him— even if it was only a four year difference.

"Glad it's official now." He beamed. "I'll go put the kettle on and then I'm showing you Star Wars..."

[yourmomxx]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕: 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

warnings: none

word count: 3.4k

When Oliver Otto was thirteen, he made a vision board. His friends at school gave him the idea.

“That way I can have all my dreams on one place,” Cooper Bradford had said. And Oliver had been sold.

He installed the poster on the inside of his closet door. That way, he would have to look at it at least twice a day, and be reminded of what he was working towards.

It was a fresh feeling of reward.

As fate would have it, it was that only a few days later, when Oliver did his weekly affirmations, partnered with excessive research over what to show off at his resume, he found out about Harvard’s constant need for male ballerinas.

Ballerinos.

Oliver jumped off his bed and took a look at himself in his tall, full-body mirror.

Slim waist, long legs. He stood on his tiptoes. Nicely rotating ankles. He lifted his arms, tensed them up. Strong shoulders.

Yes, this could work.

The next day of school, in the fifteen-minute break just between English and Calculus, he made his way quickly to the teacher’s office, where he asked for “Mr Donovan”.

The man that was brought to him was pretty much the same height as Oliver’s mom, had slicked-back, blond hair that started to slightly gray around his ears, and a muscular body like a goddamn bear.

How he should ever imagine that man in a leotard, Oliver did not know.

“My name is Oliver Otto,” He introduced himself. “And I would like to sign up for your beginner’s ballet class.”

Mr Donovan almost doubled over with excitement. For someone looking as intimidating as he did, that was an unexpected reaction for Oliver.

Donovan smiled brightly at Oliver, and squeezed his hand extra tight and long when he shook it.

He said something about how inspiring it was that Oliver had such a profound passion to not wait until the next year to start class, and how excited he was to finally have a male dancer in his group.

“Between us,” Mr Donovan whispered, “I think the parents don’t quite believe me anymore when I say that male ballet dancers are just as popular as female ones. Think it’s all just for the movies.”

He smiled again, and shook Oliver’s hand again, and complimented him on his determination again.

Then, he slipped back into the teacher’s office. Oliver made it back to his class just in time for the bell to ring. For him, ballet classes started already the next day.

Oliver didn’t know if he could tell Cooper about it. If the older boy would use this as an opportunity to make fun of him and kick him out of their friendgroup. He couldn’t afford that, and his social status wouldn’t survive it.

If Luz were still here, Oliver thought, then she probably would know what to do. He had talked to her about his relationship with Cooper a few times, when she was still Viv’s housekeeper, and they abused her basement as a fashion workshop for their remodeled shirts.

Oliver had been sorting their third or fourth stack of money when the topic had been first brought up. “If I want to be as rich as Cooper Bradford, we will have to keep this up for quite some time,” He had said. Luz had squinted her eyes in interest. Some people would say that this was the way she always looked, but Oliver had learned to tell the difference. “Cooper Bradford?” She had asked, rolling the ‘r’s in his name so wonderfully, ”Isn’t he the pretty boy whose parents are never home?” Oliver had nodded. “You get me, Luz.”

She had tilted her head. “What do you care what one of those entitled rich boys thinks? He your friend?” Oliver had shrugged, suddenly very focused on their money again. It couldn’t hurt to count it all again. “I don’t know,” He had said, sincerely. “I mean, I think we are on our way to becoming friends, but - I don’t know.” Luz had nodded.

“Boy friendships are always complicated. That’s why I never had them.” Oliver raised his eyebrows. “What am I to you, then?”

“A business partner,” Luz had said, “A damn annoying one.” But Oliver could swear he had seen a small smile on the tips of her lips.

“Alright, Luz,” he had said. “Same time, same place tomorrow. Supply and demand, you understand.“ Luz had shaken her head and stashed her share into a loose tile on the floor.

“You’re so demanding,” She had said. “You’re gonna be an amazing rich person.”

And Oliver had grinned.

Now, he was more unsure than ever before. After his birthday party, he thought that him and Cooper Bradford had formed somewhat of a connection. Maybe a friendship. Hopefully.

That’s why he didn’t know, should he tell him about his plan? Him doing ballet had the power to ruin the image that Cooper Bradford had of him, and even if Oliver didn’t like admitting it, he cared deeply what the other boy thought of him.

Cooper Bradford started spending time at Oliver’s house more often. Back then, when Luz had mentioned that the Bradfords were never home, or everytime that Cooper had told him in what different country than America his parents were again, Oliver had not given it too much thought.

But when it was another day that Cooper entered their house, without knocking and just perching himself on the couch, Oliver first started realizing how lonely Cooper actually had to be. If he had his entire house, that was a castle, with movie rooms (plural) and pools (plural), and a game hall, and whatever else … what other reason would there be that he’d spend his days with Oliver?

In a house that was as big as the Bradford’s living room, with two annoying siblings, an out-of-style Dad, a Mom that always yelled at him, and a vase from El Paso as their most luxurious object.

At first, Oliver hadn’t understood. But maybe he was starting to.

“I decided to take ballet classes to get into Harvard.” He dropped it casually one day, after the evening his mother had invited Cooper to dinner, but before the time she pretended to be pregnant. They were sitting in Oliver’s room, he himself on the bed, Cooper on the desk, attempting at their homework.

Cooper raised his head from his worksheet, looked at Oliver.

“Chill.” He said.

He lowered his head again.

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s it?” He asked, baffled. “You’re not gonna … say anything else?”

Cooper looked up, wrinkled his eyebrows, thinking. “I can play piano,” He stated. “When you’re good enough I can assist you by playing music.”

With that, the conversation was over for him, and he turned his focus back to his worksheets.

That was the moment that Oliver Otto decided it. Eyes trained on the hunched figure of the boy with the dark blond hair, it came to him like enlightenment. Cooper Bradford was his best friend. In the world.

Cooper Bradford was his best friend in the world.

He focused on his homework again. The smile didn’t leave his eyes.

Cooper Bradford was his best friend. In the world. It was nice to hear himself say that.

Or think it.

Because now, everytime when Cooper laughed with Jamie Miller, or charmed the hell out of a blonde girl from his biology class, he reminded himself steadily, that Cooper was his best friend, and no one else’s.

It was a refreshing form of reassurance that Oliver had not know he needed.

Spending more time with Cooper Bradford also meant seeing Kendra Nolan more often, because they’d grown up together and liked each other like siblings. Kendra was probably the only thing about Cooper that Oliver couldn’t stand.

Not that they talked much, it was merely the occasional eyeroll when she realized Oliver was sitting at her dinner table, or the time-to-time scoff when she talked about something she got from the money that he didn’t have.

Those things didn’t annoy him in Cooper, obviously. Because Cooper was his best friend.

Although, regarding Kendra, he had a feeling, that, since his birthday party, she seemed to only half hate his guts, and he didn’t find her voice quite as annoying as he did before.

“Alright, you two douche-nozzles,” she addressed them one day, while they were doing their homework, which Oliver found very rude by the way, and added to the mental list of things that he disliked about her.

“Listen up.” Without being asked, she sat down at the table next to them. Another mental note. “Halloween is coming up, which means you, Cooper, have to help me organize the Halloween Party this year.”

Oliver perked up. The annual Halloween Party for teenagers was as much of a tradition in Westport as trick-or-treating was in all of America. The place where it was hosted rotated and changed around from year to year, all of the kids quietly competing over who had the best and most epic party of all time. And this year, apparently, it was Tannyhill’s turn.

“Any idea what you’re gonna do?” Oliver asked him. Cooper shrugged. “I usually let my party planner handle all this stuff.”

Kendra threw him a murderous glare. It made Cooper retreat his words almost instantly.

“Buttt, joining forces I’m sure we’re gonna figure something out,” He added slowly.

“Aha,” Oliver let out. Cooper had once told him that it was one of Kendra’s hobbies to plan the parties that he had. She was in charge of all of his birthday celebrations, and a big factor in Tannyhill’s Christmas decorations.

He turned to her. “And do you already have any ideas what you’re gonna do this year?” Oliver asked, now directing the question towards Kendra. She picked at her nails. “A few.”

Hah. Liar.

“Oh, really?” Oliver probed. “Such as?”

“I don’t know. And I’m not gonna tell you. I was only here to talk to Cooper anyways. I don’t know why you’re always around him.”

She grabbed her things and stormed off. Oliver raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t worry about her,” Cooper said, “She takes a while to warm up to people. The first time I slept over at their house, she put a mouse in my bed.” He leaned closer and whispered, “She caught it herself.”

Right. That was totally normal.

**

Oliver Otto did not chase successions, fame, or pride. No, he carefully laid out the first bricks and waited until they came crawling to him over the bridge that he had built. It was a strategy, and it worked.

When Kendra Nolan rang his doorbell on a Saturday afternoon, he opened her with a smug smile already plastered on his face, his winning smile, that he definitely did not rehearse in front of his mirror.

"Kendra," he purred, "What brings you to my humble realm?"

She clenched her jaw and pursed her lips. The obvious discomfort this interaction brought her made Oliver’s smile only wider.

“Can we talk?” she murmured through pressed lips, and Oliver leaned forward, one hand behind his ear.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I’m afraid I couldn’t hear you.” She shot him a glare.

She was good at those. If looks could kill, his family would’ve had to bury him the first day he sat down at Cooper Bradford’s table of popular kids at lunch with his tray of spaghetti.

“Can. We. Talk.”

Oliver took a step back and gestured for her to come in. “Of course we can.”

Kendra stomped past him. She didn’t take off her shoes.

In his living room, a person like Kendra tended to look sort of out of place. Her entire appearance seemed put together, which couldn’t be said about his house, and the newspapers or sunglasses sprawled everywhere.

Most of her clothes probably cost more than his furniture. And yet, if only for this moment, she was completely at Oliver’s mercy. Oh, he was going to relish in this moment.

“So, Kendra, what is it that you wanted so desperately to talk about? With me?”

He was enjoying this way too much. Maybe he should consider therapy in the future.

She shoved her hands in her pockets. “’s about Halloween.”

Oliver gestured for her to continue talking while he took a seat next to the kitchen isle.

“I’m helping Cooper throw a party.”

“And?” He dragged. She let out a breath.

“And Cooper Bradford is terrible at planning things. There, I said it.” She threw her hands in the air and let them clap to her side again.

“Okay,” Oliver said slowly, “I still don’t get why you came to me about this.”

“Yes, you do,” Kendra said. Yes, he did.

“No, I really don’t.” He crossed his arms. “I guess you have to say it to me.”

She took a deep breath, one that lifted her shoulders and scrunched her face up. Oliver smiled, tight-lipped and evil. She wriggled on his rod like a fish, and he was holding her barely above the water to get her freedom.

If this was how detectives felt, when they pressured their victims into confessing a crime, maybe he should consider changing career paths.

“Canyouhelpmeplanthehalloweenparty?”

Oliver leaned forward, one hand behind his ear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

A frustrated groan left her throat. “Can you help me plan the Halloween party? There. Happy now?”

Oliver leaned back, a smug grin on his face at her annoyance.

“Now say that again, kneeling down, and add a please.”

“The only thing I’m gonna do kneeling down is punch you where it really hurts, Otto,” she spat.

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Fair enough.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Alright, so, this was completely humiliating and degrading for me. So, now, if you please-“ She frantically waved her hands around, “-would just help me with this?”

Oliver bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from letting a sarcastic remark slip of his tongue,

“Alright, so what do you need my help with?”

Kendra sighed and took a seat on a stool next to him. “First of all, an idea. You know, when people think Bradford, they think rich. Which means they think big, and glamorous, and unique. So the party has to be all of those things.”

“Please tell me again why you aren’t letting your party planner do all of this?”

“Because I like it,” Kendra admitted. “The planning, and the having ideas, and preparing everything. I think it’s fun. I’ve just been so busy with school lately that it feels like my mind has closed off to anything I enjoy. And also I have the money to make any sort of extravagant imagination I have come true.”

Oliver nodded. “Well, then you’ve come to the right place. I do have extravagant ideas, which you have the money to fulfill.” She grinned.

“Alright, so what are we working with? Do you have a direction, a theme, something like that?”

Kendra hummed. “I know that I want something unique. You know, not the typical ‘webs around the house’ thing. I have the money for more, and I wanna use that.”

Oliver slowly nodded his head, thinking. “Alright, alright. I mean, the typical thing doesn’t sound so bad. You know, Haunted House themed. Spiderwebs, maybe some blood around, eyes in the punch bowl.”

“Okay, fine,” Kendra said, “Let’s go classic. But then we should have some sort of climax. You know, like an interlude at midnight. Something that fits the Haunted House theme. I’m thinking maybe scare actors and flickering lights.”

Oliver grinned. “That’s not a bad idea.” She smiled proudly.

Then, an idea struck Oliver and he perked up. “Tell me, Kendra,” he said, “How big is your garden?”

**

If you had asked Oliver Otto three months ago, he would have told you he would never consider letting Kendra Nolan even into his house, not when Cooper wasn’t there. Hell, if you had asked him a week ago, he would’ve probably said the same thing. Even stranger was it, that currently, he was sitting on his bed, Kendra Nolan on the floor in his room, helping her design invitations for the Bradford’s Haunted House party. He still thinks their names should be credited in that title in some way, but after the dozenth eyeroll and sigh he got from Kendra on that topic, he let it rest.

“Your ideas were really good, Oliver,” Kendra suddenly said, and clicked the lid on a black marker. “I hope your mom has that same talent.”

At Oliver’s confusing look, she added, “Well, because of the Spring Gala.”

“How do you know about that?” He asked. “Your dads don’t even volunteer at school.”

“They don’t,” she shrugged, “But, Westport moms have the habit of dumping all the stuff they should go to therapy for on their children. We know just about everything about just about anything.”

“That’s badass.”

“Totally. Although I now know terrible things about Tabetha Thornton that I wish I didn’t.”

“Other than her name?” They snickered.

Maybe Oliver should be concerned about the fact that they clicked so easily instantly when they weren’t fantasizing about tearing each other’s faces off…

Nah.

“Seriously, though, Oliver,” Kendra said, after another moment of silence. “You had a great idea with this. Thank you.”

He let it sink in for a second. Then he scoffed. “Don’t turn all melancholic on me now, Nolan. Come on, we had a good thing going on! You work me up with some banter, I work you up, and when we’re older we’d relieve that tension between us by heavily making out.”

Oliver fell back when a pillow was chucked forcefully at his face.

**

The day of the Halloween party arrived, and so did Oliver, at the Bradford estate wearing his last-minute costume-solution to cover up what he liked to call his “scream-deficiency”.

The house – estate, castle? – in itself looked marvelous. Yes, maybe a bit cliché, with cotton webs and rubber spiders floating around everywhere.

But Kendra had made sure to keep her promise and use all the money that Cooper was willing to pay, and use it well. Strutting through the house, Oliver made out pumpkins with distorted grimaces, candles hanging from the ceiling like in Harry Potter, flashing lights in the dark atmosphere to imitate a thunderstorm, and the occasional mist being pumped out of a smoke machine.

Oliver rotated around his own axis, admiring the look of the house. If he hadn’t been here almost as often as he was at school, he probably wouldn’t have recognized Tannyhill at all.

From his left side, he noticed a girl approaching him. She was wearing a long, orange skirt, with a black top and long, puffy sleeves, and a black top hat throning on neon-orange colored hair.

Oliver smirked and opened his arms.

“How fitting is that? You’re a witch.”

Kendra came to a stop in front of him and shoved his shoulder.

“That’s rich, man, what are you? One of the living action figures in Michael Jackson’s Thriller?”

“I’m Bane. You know, from Batman. The super cool assassin with the mask.”

“Oh yeah, right, Tom Hardy. Well, Venom, you better watch out because I saw at least already three Bruce Waynes slash Batmans at this party. It’s gonna be a long night for you.”

Oliver shook his head, grinning under his mask. “You really set this up nicely. The skeletons sitting at the tables are a creative touch.” He almost peed himself when he sat down next to one of them, but she didn’t have to know that.

Kendra put her hand on his shoulder. “We did that. I couldn’t have done it without you.” And with a bit more hesitation, she added, “Also, you’re not as douchey as I thought you would be. To be honest.”

Oliver’s smile grew wider. “Why, thank you.” And, because fair’s fair, “And you’re also not as much of a bitch as I thought you were.”

Kendra grinned unconvincingly. “I hope you choke on an eyeball.”

Oliver grinned back. “I hope your hair gets caught in one of the murderer’s chainsaws and your scalp gets ripped with it.”

She waved her fingers goodbye at him, and then melted into the crowds. Oliver got on his way to look for Cooper – who was, funny enough, dressed as Batman.

When the clock struck Midnight, the official Haunting House was opened. It was a small hut, set up in the Bradford’s Garden. Well, small might be understated, but the passages inside where definitely narrow.

It had been Kendra’s idea to hire scare actors for this time, and let them roam the inside of the House as murderers, wizards and witches, to give the guests something to remember and a good scare for the way.

As Oliver stood in line next to Cooper and Thomas, hearing the screams of the group that went in before them, he was the happiest he had been that night for the mask that he was wearing.

And boy, did it pay off.

When I look out my window Many sights to see And when I look in my window So many different people to be

They're strange, so strange It's very strange to me

You've got to pick up every stitch Oh no, must be the season of the witch

-Season of The Witch, Lana Del Rey

guys I'm really sorry this is so late but my laptop broke down and I couldn't charge it in time anyways, I hope you enjoy it still!

tagged: @ficsnships @amorhedera7

[danganronpa-theories-v3]

Is Shuichi the mastermind of V3?

I've had a few thoughts about four chapters and Shuichi's involvement in them.

FIRST CHAPTER So, the first case had an unreliable narrator as Kaede. While playing the game for the first time, Shuichi felt like a really good and reliable guy to me but after analyzing the game again and looking at other people's theories, I think Shuichi might be strongly connected to the mastermind to the point of being one. A detail that strucks out about Shuichi is his parents being an actor and a screenwriter. This is important considering the game's ending. I believe it means there's a possibility of him having good acting skills and feeling comfortable being a character in a "fictional" world. In the first chapter, Shuichi had quite a few opportunities to notice what Kaede has been up to.

He leaves her around shotput balls, soon-to-become murder weapons.

He had an opportunity to see that the books were put in a very strange fashion.

Clearly, he withheld information about the cameras from everyone including Kaede for no obvious reason.

It is very possible he messed the cameras up in some way (https://www.tumblr.com/fit-artichoke8738/649993708004130816/problems-with-the-library-cameras-drv3-ch-1).

SECOND CHAPTER The most suspicious thing about the second chapter was the way Ryoma died. I suppose there's no arguments against Kirumi being the killer but did she kill Ryoma the way Shuichi said she did? https://youtu.be/HXuq50Bt6PE?t=341 - Monosuke here even touches on the topic of the cause of death although in the usual wacky way. Monosuke has a "slip-up" in which he says it was practically impossible to put the body in the piranha tank - you had to lean through the window and that would count as breaking the rules. All that when other characters emphasize that the trick would work only if someone carefully put the body in the piranha tank. Ryoma had a crack on his skull. Could Kirumi have killed him with one blow and leave his body without any other manipulations, and then someone decided to make things more interesting? Perhaps, to give Shuichi another chance to shine as a detective?

THIRD CHAPTER Korekiyo's behavior during the third trial was a bit suspicious. Korekiyo acted as if he didn't remember killing Angie or perhaps didn't do it at all. He was ready to prove his innocence till his dead sister persona told him to "admit defeat", otherwise he would probably try to defend himself further - and that's already after the Closing Argument! But he wasn't really nervous nor did he put much of a fight when the students suspected him in killing Tenko. You can say he simply realized he isn't going to be executed for this but obviously killing Tenko would make him the prime suspect in Angie's murder, especially if he knew he used the same floorboard to kill both of the girls. I think another thing a lot of people already noticed is that Korekiyo only asks about what would happen if there are two blackened after the second murder already happened. and he does it in front of everyone. And he doesn't even get the answer at that moment because Monokubs (seemingly) didn't expect this to happen at all - this to me outrules the possibility Kiyo asked about this before. Korekiyo also is the first one to say "We should investigate Tenko's death as well, just in case" after it's revealed only the Angie's killer is the blackened, basically asking to be outed as her murderer and possibly appreciated as one, with his genius seesaw trick and all. Before the Closing Argument, Shuichi says, "Kiyo..I want you to confess! No…I will force you to confess!". Sounds strange if we consider the possibility Kiyo might not have anything else to confess for.

FOURTH CHAPTER The 4th chapter… something tells me Shuichi had a hand in Miu's murder. One of the most suspicious things is how Kaito was the last to appear when everyone's logged out. He said, "What's this all about!? What was that body discovery announce-" when there was no body discovery announcement. It is EXTREMELY suspicious that he knew someone was dead beforehand. He even goes on to repeat that obvious lie, saying "when that body discovery announcement woke me up, I rushed over here". For some reason, Shuichi doesn't question this one. After Shuichi said he was going to reveal the culprit, Kokichi says, "Even if the culprit is Kaito?". Is Kaito the culprit?

@fit-artichoke8738 theorized about the possibility of Body Swapping (https://www.tumblr.com/fit-artichoke8738/648228491354144768/body-swapping-in-the-virtual-world-drv3-ch4). As far as I recall, Miu didn't specify at the beginning that you can log out as anyone, so that makes not mentioning that you can log in as anyone less improbable. https://youtu.be/LVrHupB88y4?t=2880 - In this sequence (Gonta bringing the bridge), we see events not only through Shuichi's perspective, something that the game didn't do very often. What was the reason for that? During the trial, Kokichi was quite angry at Gonta, pressuring him to make solid arguments to defend himself. Some people say Kokichi just wanted to kill everyone after he had the card key and saw what the "real world" was like. But he also said (in yellow, mind you) that he wants to live with his super angry sprite. If this line was genuine, then why would he pressure Gonta to defend himself so much? Perhaps because Kokichi thought that Gonta might not actually be the culprit?

This first line came after Miu explained everything. Isn't Gonta smart enough to at least listen to what Miu just told everyone? Maybe I'm wrong but this bit feels like someone putting on an act. The second line - and then again, Gonta questioned something that was explained a few seconds ago.

So these chapters have these questionable moments that make me think Shuichi has something to do with the game's mastermind if he isn't one to begin with.

[15minlatewithbatbucks]

no choice but to love you pt. 10

FIRST | SECOND | THIRD | FOURTH | FIFTH | SIXTH | SEVENTH | EIGHTH | NINTH

When they were alone again, Emma spun around in her chair to give him a huge smile. Bruce smiled back, weaker but no less heartfelt. The idea of being a father to Tim was still so new even if he was excited about it.

“He’s the sweetest little boy,” she said, clasping her hands together almost in prayer. “A mamma’s boy to be sure, but that’s probably just because he doesn’t really knew his daddy yet.”

That’s me, he thought, still a little dumbstruck. He’d been warming up to the idea of having a young child with Damian on the way, but this was different. Maybe Talia had been onto something with the blood son business.

More likely, Bruce was still just riding the coloring session serotonin.

“We colored together,” he offered just to see Emma happier. She was taking the whole situation the best and had told him at length that she simply adored little children and had been surprised something like this hadn’t happened sooner. “He’s a champ at staying in the lines. He gave me tips.”

Bruce retreated into his office, leaving Emma to her joyous laughter. He was going to have to squeeze in a call to Talia and probably text Jason to give him a heads up about dinner. He’d almost sat down when he noticed something on the couch they had occupied. Worried that Janet or Tim had forgotten something, he walked back over to investigate.

It was Tim’s coloring page, carefully tucked between the sofa’s arm and cushion. The cheerful looking pterodactyl on the paper was accompanied by Tim’s careful signature at the bottom, like a true artist.

Tim

Just “Tim”, no last name although he’d readily shown off his skill writing his full name on a notepad Janet had provided when the topic came up. He’d been so proud at the time that it felt somewhat significant that Tim didn’t write “Timothy Jackson Drake”.

Perhaps that was because he knew that he wasn’t Jack’s son, wasn’t a Drake.

Well, it was no matter. Wayne was an easy name to learn with the same number of letters. They could even workshop something else for a middle name, since Jack clearly didn’t deserve to call him his son.

Those were thoughts for later, however. He set them aside as he returned to his desk unhindered and gently put the coloring page into a desk drawer. At some point he (or more likely Emma) would have to find a frame so it could join the other pieces of family artwork adorning his walls.

Before he shut the drawer, he snapped a picture to drop into the family group chat, irrationally proud of a child he hadn’t yet had a chance to raise.

Within a minute, his phone was ringing. He answered and set it to speakerphone.

“I don’t have a lot of time before Lucius comes to drag me away,” he cautioned before Talia could start. She sighed deeply.

“Did you have a fun play date, beloved?” she asked and Bruce started grinning much more genuinely than he had in front of Emma.

“I thoroughly enjoyed myself, yes,” he answered. “We colored dinosaurs and Tim was nice enough to give me tips.”

“I’m sure that you needed them.”

“I’m only giving his secrets away because you’re my partner,” Bruce said in warning. “But he told me that if you use big markers to outline your coloring, it helps cover up if your crayon ‘goes a little shhhwsh’.”

“I’m sorry?”

Bruce paused thoughtfully and did his best to remember exactly how Tim sounded as he mimed a runaway crayon. He carefully copied it to the best of his ability.

“You know, ‘shhwshhh’.”

“I can only conclude that you are having a stroke.”

“You could never be so lucky. But, yes. I did have fun with him. I had fun with my… my son,” Bruce tried out. “My son, Timothy…” Timothy what? Obviously not Drake for much longer, but would Janet want him to have her last name? Timothy Adelman.

It didn’t sound as good as Timothy Wayne. Tim Wayne. Or whatever other name Tim might want. Wayne was a very versatile name.

“Do you think Janet would let me give Tim my father’s name as a middle name?” he asked.

“So you’ll be keeping him?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, but on the topic of names… He wanted to respect what was disclosed to him in confidence even if he was fairly sure he was being tested, but he also needed to be on the same page with Talia.

“Tragic,” Talia said dryly. “His mother?”

“Is a perfectly lovely person that I will be co-parenting with and who I will not be propositioning for you,” he said firmly. “Talia… what would you do if Damian was transgender?”

Talia was stymied by the question. Bruce let her think, knowing that she would make the appropriate leaps of logic to him and Tim. He knew she was a good person, but he didn’t know what her upbringing may have instilled in her.

“…Should I be calling Timothy your daughter?” is what she came back with, neatly sidestepping Bruce’s question with her own.

“No… not… Not now. Maybe in the future,” he said. “Janet was telling me that he enjoys playing dress up with her, which is obviously not exactly indicative of a five year old’s gender identity. She just wanted to make sure that if he was…”

“You are telling me that I could have a daughter.”

“I’m not tell- Talia, he’s my daughter. Son. He’s mine and Janet’s son,” he said. “This isn’t so he wouldn’t be my firstborn son, is it?”

“Hush,” Talia hummed. “I am your partner, you’ve just said. I have stakes in this child and you are telling me that I could possibly have a little girl in my home to even the odds against all of you men.”

Bruce felt a headache coming on. “Like I said, nothing is set in stone until Tim says if he’s a boy, girl, or anything else.”

“I could change that.”

“Talia,” he begged, almost laughing. “Do not trans my son.”

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried,” she sniffed delicately, indifferent to his mirth. “But I will concede. It is his business and I will welcome him in our home whatever his gender may be.”

“That’s all I ask,” Bruce said. Then, because he could always be petty. “Besides, if he were my daughter, it would make him your stepdaughter. In all the stories, stepmothers and stepdaughters don’t exactly get along.”

“You would call me wicked, beloved? I, a wicked stepmother? Woe unto you,” Talia said mournfully and cut the call. Still chortling, Bruce sent Jason a text requesting a call on his lunch break as Lucius poked his head in.

[bi-kisses]

hi may I ask what do you think about this tiktok? https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMY5UdYSV/ personally I find that they’re only trying to explain that NB/Queer people have always existed based on different cultural backgrounds but I wanted to ask what do you think of it

originally I was just gonna say what I always do about these ancient third genders being examples of homophobia, transphobia, and sexism. But I decided to actually prove that.

Their first point: Mesopotamia, 2000 BC. They had "neither male nor female" individuals who were "created by god".

In actuality: the gender roles were incredibly strict in their culture. Any form of deviance from "men stronk hunter, active and virile" meant you couldn't be a real man. If you actually look into their "neither male nor female" figures, you're met with:

feminine men who were forced under the "third gender" label to maintain strict masculine/feminine divide

an ambiguously-bodied cult god(dess), changing men to women/women to men as a way to again maintain masculinity and femininity's rigidity.

castrated castle servants

(source)

Second point: Egyptian "Sekhet", a third gender.

This one is SOOO funny because it just... isn't real? If you search for it online, the only thing that turns up is this absolutely referenceless "wikidata" article with a fun flag.

Did you mean: Sekhmet? Sekhmet is an Egyptian goddess, not at all ambiguously gendered, and not at all related to non binary genders.

Third point: Hijra, the Indian third gender.

I've talked about Hijra before but if you want the full breakdown;

This article's very first line says that Hijra are trans women. But the actual history of Hijra, the one that dates soooo far back historically, is of a god merging with his wife and becoming ambiguously sexed.

If you look at what makes someone Hijra, it's just... being LGBT. And in India, they're seen as vagabond and entertainers who roam around begging for money because of the discrimination and exploitation they face.

The New York Times goes into the modern Hijra, where their example is a bullied AFAB groomed into sex work at the age of 8. I'm not going to touch that. It is explained, however, that many Hijra exist in a sex work pyramid scheme with a top-dog Hijra getting all the money and offering protection to her many "chelas" and continue recruiting.

In fact, India legally recognizes all "transgender" people as being a third gender. Make of that what you will.

Fourth point: Scythians, a nomadic who heralded gender non conforming people as priests and warriors.

First of all, I'd like to say just how misleading the poster's segue into this point was? As if all Scythians were non binary? When that obviously wasn't the case. They had one form of "third gender", called Enarei or Anarya, which, I shit you not, translates to "unmanly". Telling on ourselves with this one.

From what I could find, this role was actually adopted by men who specifically couldn't have sex anymore for some reason. In legend, they came to be from an effeminacy curse from Aphrodite. There's very little information about this group and yet we can already see it's more of the same.

They also claim that Scythians had early HRT by using licorice root. I could find zero evidence for this, only an article that explained they used licorice root to stay hydrated in the desert.

Fifth point: Two Spirit, the native "umbrella" for non-"western" genders

I don't even want to explain at this point because it's such a dry topic, a long-beaten dead horse, but the term Two Spirits is a modern invention and the "genders" it encompasses are, likewise, ways to other or "explain" LGBT people.

You can look into any one of these genders for the proof, as I will do here: Take the wíŋkte, a contraction of a term that translates to "man who wants to be a woman". It's just... trans women. In the modern day, the same term basically just means gay man. Deviance from the typical male role meant you were classified as something totally other, as we can see, and if a trans woman wanted to, well, be a woman, she was instead ostracized from both sexes.

I've even had a native explain to me that 2S is a secondary role that has nothing to do with your sex or gender and is purely spiritual, not relevant to LGBT discussions whatsoever.

Their final point was literally "woman with a [penis] weapon", which derives from anglo-saxon history and was... insulting, from the little I could find. It wasn't an epic cool third gender, it was something to call trans/intersex people.

So we've reached the end. Now, the video itself isn't wrong, we've had the notion of non-binary genders and sexes for ages, but we also have the hindsight to understand these categories were sexist reinforcements of gender roles and a way to move the homosexuals and transsexuals into their own box that wouldn't disrupt the rest of society by trying to actually be perceived as, like, normal human beings.

Non binary today isn't overly different, unfortunately! For every person that claims it's a scientific phenomenon with androgynous dysphoria, there's a hundred more who describe it as not feeling like they "fit in" with other girls/guys.

Which is, again, just sexism and the enforcement of gender roles.

[rxspbrrry]

Hello! I wanted to drop by and say that I adore your writing and characterisation! It's always so on point-- how you manage to do that is beyond me; but keep up good work regardless!☆

But since I'm already,, here, I was wondering if you could a 'their type' type thingie for Clotted Cream, Madeleine and any other cookie of your choice [or just Clotted Cream and Madeleine if you'd rather do just these two!]. Basically what I was trying to ask is what do you think their romantic 'type' would be^'

It's totally fine if you'd rather not do that request! Hope you have a good day regardless!

omg yes so true anon

notes ; clotted cream cookie, madeleine cookie x gn reader, headcanons

long story short, clotted cream would want someone who could whoop his ass.

honestly, having everyone at his beck and call in the creme republic (though the feeling of power is satisfying) can become quite annoying with no one to challenge.

yeah, sure, everyone loves him, everyone obeys him, everyone does what he asks them to do. how boring. isn’t there someone around here who secretly hates him and wants him dead? someone who will barge into his office with a “I HATE CLOTTED CREAM!!!” sign and challenge him to a rap battle? or a bakeoff? or a passionate and completely useless dragonboating competition?

but kids, remember, be careful what you wish for.

clotted cream is initially elated when he gets his first hater: you. a sarcastic, passive-aggressive descendant of a noble house. you aren’t the heir since you’re one of the younger children in your family, so you have “i can go batshit crazy and people won’t care” privileges. doesn’t make you any less competent than your siblings, though, it just means you can be slightly meaner and receive no backlash for it.

so your first meeting with clotted cream starts off with you making a subtle jab at how his outfit makes him appear arrogant and narcissistic. and clotted cream, being the weird ass douche he is, loves the insult!!!!! oh my god someone finally hates him!!!!

he’s super intrigued and pokes at you further, getting more and more amused to hear more passive insults directed at him with a smug smile on your face.

however, as the days go by, the number of subtle jabs he gets from you also increases, and it starts to get on his nerves. it doesn’t help that oyster cookie and many of the elders also chuckle at the comments you make towards him. instead of hoping to hear another insult come out from your mouth, his eye constantly twitches and he keeps changing the topic to avoid more jabs (and fails).

what has he done to you to make you hate him this much!!!!!!!!!!!!! stop ruining his perfect reputation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so in hopes of hearing no insults from you, he sends you on a month-long expedition to get rid of you temporarily. you blow him a kiss and tell him to not miss you too much while you’re gone, and he says he’ll never miss you as a reply. famous last words.

the first week without a jab at him makes him feel more relaxed. now he won’t have to worry about you jumping around the corner to make fun of him respectfully!!!

the second week starts to get a little bit boring. okayyyy, work is the same as normal, everyone listens to him, the elders agree with everything he says, financier cookie protects him and stuff, and… no jab from you today.

the third week without you makes him lose his mind. surely, though he wished for someone to go against him in the first place, he shouldn’t be missing your insults this much. imagine what his ancestors would think, seeing him become all masochistic.

the fourth week becomes torture and clotted cream realises how much he misses you and your playfulness. how cheeky yet intelligent you are when you pass by him in the halls, discreetly insulting his neatly combed hair. how ruthless yet polite you are when you “innocently” comment about how he could never do a better job at swordsmanship than you. how mean yet beautiful you are when you smile and light up his world as you think quickly on your feet to rebut him with yet another insult.

goodness gracious, someone help a man in love.

maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as he thinks. maybe you don’t hate him as much as he thinks. maybe you aren’t that ugly when you laugh and pretend to compliment his outfit that actually insults him. maybe you aren’t that annoying when you protect him and fight by his side, in combat and in politics, talking both good and bad about his skills.

maybe he just really misses you a whole lot, and after a month when you step off the airship and look at him with a knowing smile on your face, maybe you are aware of his feelings for you too.

similar to modern academic r2l stories, basically both of you are the top scorers in the knight school in the creme republic. both of you score crazy well in both written and practical knight tests so you both are expected to be the best paladins protecting important people after you graduate. the only difference between the two of you is that madeleine hails from a reputable family while yours is more on the disadvantaged side, and you actually worked hard to get in, unlike madeleine who used connections to enter.

so in summary, madeleine likes someone who (would also kick his ass) and works hard to get what they achieved. it’s something i think he would hardly relate to.

madeleine is a bastard. he’s smug, he’s self centered, he’s rich and powerful. his knight skills are subpar compared to yours, and the only reason he’s in the school is because the head knight is friends with his father. unlike you, who came from a not so well-off family and worked your ass off to train to get into the knight academy.

so when everyone saw both of you being tied in first place in the whole cohort during your second last year of knight school, everyone knew shit was about to go down. the rich boy with connections and the other one who genuinely works hard. who will be valedictorian?

you weren’t infuriated when you knew that your biggest competitor was a stuck up rich kid. okay, perhaps his only redeem quality (that isn’t even redeeming) is that he has money and looks, but as long as you work hard to prove your worth, like you always do, the title of valedictorian will be yours.

what infuriated you, however, was that this stuck up rich kid you were tied with did not even care about your existence; hell, he didn’t even know about you! he looked at the name of the promising knight tied with him, simply scoffed, and went on his day. and lucky you, you caught all of this.

even if you’re going to rely on connections and money and power to get good grades, you thought, dumbfounded, at least acknowledge your opponent and their hard work, shithead.

due to fanfic logic, for the first pair assignment in your last year of knight school, the coach pairs you with your one and only rival. how fun.

yes, very fun indeed— he only realises you’re his academic rival when you effortlessly parry his blow.

the pair assignment (which is a short, harmless duel) turns into an actual fight that gets overly emotional. mostly from your end. you scream and cry to a confused madeleine as blade hits blade and blade hits armour.

“listen up, you spoiled brat!” you cry out, “unlike you, i actually worked my ass off to be here! so if you’re gonna be my academic rival, at least put in effort to do well and stop relying on your daddy to keep your place secure! witches, you are so infuriating!”

madeleine the entire time: ?????????????????

your rant didn’t go to waste though, hooray!!!! it actually made madeleine think twice about his position and if he actually deserved or not. so you managed to motivate madeleine to actually start strengthening his skills.

but do you think he’ll leave you alone after you become his motivation source? lmfao

yeah, get ready for an annoying pest that bothers you on a daily basis. he’ll come up to you in the hallways with that stupid annoying smile and chat with you, genuinely asking about your knight studies (but you always take it as though he’s looking down on you, lol)

i hate the 4096 character limit tumblr let me write ew (interlude)

what you don’t know, behind that smug himbo exterior, is someone whose life you changed. besides motivating him to open his eyes and look at the people around him, and motivating him to actually put in effort, he has started to really admire the way you work so hard to get the results you want to. he feels happy for you when you work hard, and happier when he sees that it pays off. so the rivalry only continues on your side, while on his side…

alas, the time has come to graduate, and the valedictorian will now be announced to the graduating batch. when the valedictorian was revealed to be the one and only madeleine, you laugh bitterly and clap halfheartedly. you suppose it was to be expected.

when madeleine goes up on stage to receive his certificate, he looks at your disappointed face and thinks about how much he misses your smile whenever you achieve your desired results after a lot of hard work. oh, how badly he wants to see that smile again.

he will bring that smile back to your face, even if it means disappointing house madeleine forever by giving the valedictorian title to you and saying how you deserved it more.

yes, seeing your astonished but grateful smile as you walk up on stage to receive the certificate from him is definitely worth getting a tongue lashing from his family.

im so sorry the ending is shit i didn’t know how to end this if there’s a spelling error it’s because i can’t type rn i keep pressing the wrong keys o(-(

[ryuseiphilia]

FIRST POST WOOO!!!! however, i did not expect my first ever post to be me being shocked about the internet lately...

this post is somewhat of a literary analysis (that no one asked for) on wilbur soot's "apology" that was initially posted to twitter.

WARNINGS ;; talking about abusive behaviour in a relationship , nothing else..?

first of all, wtf is going on with that wilbur soot guy? i've heard of him before since my friend watches him but recently on twitter all i've seen is messy apologies, proof of horrid behaviour, and straight up abuse. yeah yeah, twitter does have the common ground of cancelling people but this isn't even cancelling. this shit is actually straight up abuse and there's so much about wilbur's behaviour towards shelby (i think that's her name?) and his aggressive behaviour towards other streamers he is/was friends with.

i can't say much on the topic of streamers since i don't watch any and i'm just a quirked up enstarrie, but all this baffles me. also his apology... let me just whip it out because oh my gee what is this shit... correction, actually, it isn't an apology at all. it is evident in the text that he is avoiding anything to do with a proper apology. the "apology" itself seems to have been written on a whim, with no sense of direction other than to simmer down the situation and make him, wilbur, to be less of a bad guy in this situation. also wilbur, you could've picked a better font than that buddy.

his apology starts off with a sense of composure, and the writing is decent. however the hook to his apology letter starts with the time frame and the allegations made instead of starting off with accountability. his second sentence tries to give emphasis that he won't disregard anyone's feelings on this situation. let's just keep in mind that this is evidently a lie of sorts (funnily enough). next he expresses how he has taken his sweet sweet time to give us this statement from him.

he then goes on about the ending chapters of his relationship with shelby, saying that he truly was being a little maniac in the last moments. i won't go on much about this second paragraph since it's just him trying to justify himself as a changed individual when that really is not evident in clips of what he's done to other people/others discussing him.

the third paragraph is really where we take a bite from the inedible whopper he has conjured. it speaks about the main topic of this whole drama; the abuse. "Throughout our relationship, I understood from our numerous conversations and text message exchanges on the subject, that this behaviour was consensual, playful and reciprocally enjoyed.". well, wilbur, it clearly was not. also let me point out how this man has yapped this entire apology and dragged out every topic to make his points sound professionally written. the second half of the first paragraph consists of how he's oh-so respectful of privacy and oh-so sympathetic to the people who are angry at him. the two points of addressing the allegations and his one-sentence apology are in the same paragraph. he ends this mighty big mac of a paragraph with "I want to extend my sincerest apologies for any pain that I caused.". buddy, you lost me at "want to". clearly, this sounds forced. just because he wants to doesn't mean he is. if you want to apologize like a true grown ass man, you have to learn how to phrase it to sound at least a bit more genuine. all the ways he's phrased his sentences has made it seem as though he's trying very hard to convey words that can earn a shred of sympathy from others.

the fourth and final paragraph wraps this whole short letter up into an ugly bouquet with flowers on the verge of wilting. the first sentence highlights his (obviously false) willingness to understand and address the victim and anyone else's concerns. then more yapping about how he hopes people will consider his perspective useful to this whole situation. well by golly, mate, no! the last ever sentence is just him trying to paint himself as someone who's going through the most insane character development arc ever. no. just... no.

i know my perspective on wilbur's horrid apology is not as note-worthy as those who have known about this man for a while, but i am simply just highlighting things from a literature perspective. i am sorry if this isn't helpful or if anything i said has been interpreted wrong.

unrelated note: i was literally listening to "shippuu jinrai shinobi michi" on loop this whole time HELP ME