#if someone's watching me do something it's like my skill level in doing that thing gets a temporary buff

[goblinontour]

Alone, Together

cooking, eating, fucking

part 1

warnings: lawyer!alex, smut, just normal fucking, alex & his cocobolo (less this time, but still present)

word count: 7.2k

It was a rare occurrence that Alex was cooking. You perched on one of the bar stools at his island, watching him with an amused smile. The kitchen was immaculate, each appliance gleaming as if it had never seen anything but coffee and reheated takeout. Because, that was the reality. Today, though, there was something simmering in a pot that had your curiosity piqued.

“Is this a special occasion?” you called out, leaning back casually, arms crossed.

He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. “Nope…Maybe. Just thought I’d waste some time like a normal person.” he said, stirring the sauce with exaggerated motions. “Though honestly, I still think it’s a dumb idea.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You still think cooking is just a fancy way to waste time?”

He turned back to the pot, his shoulders relaxing as he stirred. “Exactly. Why spend an hour cooking just to spend another hour eating? I’d rather order in and only waste half of that time.”

“Right. You know, Alex, then you’re wasting someone else’s time cooking for you.” you pointed out. 

He chuckled, a warm sound that echoed in the space, and turned to you, eyebrow raised, as he set the spoon down momentarily. “But they’re getting paid for it, so it’s not wasting time. Simple economics, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Only you would make that argument.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “And only you would let me win it.”

“Or it just means you’re being lazy.” you countered, tilting your head playfully.

“Lazy? I like to call it efficiency. Lazy or efficient, you decide.” He shot you a grin before returning to the pot, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Speaking of efficiency, how’s the case with, uh, Henderson was it? How’s that going? Any breakthroughs?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Not as much as I’d like. He’s being uncooperative, as usual. I swear he enjoys dragging things out just to test my patience.”

Alex nodded. “Sounds about right. You should hit him with a motion. It might scare him into cooperating.”

“Yeah, maybe.” you replied, leaning forward. “But I don’t want to show all my cards too soon. Plus, I might need to save that for when he really pisses me off.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Just don’t let him get under your skin. You know how I feel about letting clients dictate the pace.”

“Right, right.” you said, smirking. “I remember that time you told a client they were being ‘insufferable’ during a meeting.”

He feigned innocence. “I was merely being honest! He needed to hear it.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Honesty doesn’t always get you a good outcome.”

“Maybe not, but it does feel fucking good in the moment.” he winked, his eyes sparkling. 

As he continued, you felt a sudden impulse to be closer. You stood up and moved behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He paused mid-stir, humming softly at your touch, leaning back slightly against you.

“Hey there.” he murmured, a hint of surprise in his voice. He left the whisk in the pot, placing his hands on top of yours, rubbing over your knuckles with a gentle rhythm. “What’s going on?”

“Just wanted to be close to you while you do…whatever this is.” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. 

He chuckled softly, glancing back at the sauce, steam curling up to meet his face. “It’s my attempt at culinary greatness. You know, a chef in the making.”

You snorted. “Sure, let’s go with that. I’ve seen you master a coffee maker, but cooking is a whole different level.”

He turned slightly, meeting your gaze with a teasing smile. “You underestimate my skills. I could be the next Iron Chef, is that what it’s called? Or, at the very least, I won’t set off the smoke alarm.”

You wrapped your arms a little tighter around him. “I have faith in you, sort of. What’s the secret ingredient, Chef?”

Alex glanced over his shoulder, a playful smirk on his face, his dark hair slightly tousled. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, eh?” he quipped. “But it’s mostly just me hoping this doesn’t end up in the trash.” His expression turned slightly more serious as he leaned into your embrace. “So, are you gonna tell me what you wanted to share? Because I’m really hoping it’s what I think it is.”

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of your news settle in your stomach. “After dinner. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

He sighed dramatically, though the twinkle in his eyes didn’t fade. “Fine, but you’re making me curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets.”

“Just focus on your culinary masterpiece.” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder before stepping back to let him work.

He turned back to the pot, a contented smile still on his lips as he continued stirring. “I can do that. But you know I’ll be expecting the details afterward.”

“Deal.” you said, settling back into your stool, anticipation bubbling beneath the surface as you watched him move about the kitchen, an unexpected domesticity woven into his actions. 

Dinner was over. Alex had just set his fork down with a soft clink against the plate. He wiped his chin and mouth with his hand, trying to catch the little specks of sauce that clung to the stubble along his jaw. The sauce had smudged slightly, and the way his lips quirked up made it clear he didn’t care about perfection. Just getting the job done.

You were still finishing the last bite of his extremely mediocre spaghetti. Spaghetti you appreciated nonetheless, more for the effort than the execution. He wasn’t even pretending to wait for you to finish. His eyes were already on you, full of expectation, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.

You sighed, glancing up at him. “What?”

“Tell me.” he said, his voice soft but eager, as if he’d been holding back for the past half-hour and was finally letting it spill out.

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head with a half-smile. “My god, Turner, you’re like a child.”

“Come onnn.” he groaned, leaning forward a bit, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “Please, tell me, tell me, tell me-”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll tell you.” you interrupted, laughing as you set your fork down in the almost-empty plate, still dotted with remnants of sauce. “Impatient as ever, I see.”

He grinned sheepishly, leaning back again in his chair, fingers still fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. His foot tapped lightly under the table, like he could barely contain himself.

“So,” you started, taking a breath, “about the firm-”

“Our firm?” he cut you off instantly, eyes bright with excitement.

“Yeah, our firm…” You paused for a moment, letting the words settle in the air between you. He was watching you so closely now, his brows furrowing just a little as if trying to anticipate what you were going to say next. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to find the right way to put it. “So, I was thinking…what if it wasn’t ‘us’ but…‘you’ and ‘me’?”

His smile faltered for just a second, and he blinked, processing. “Go on.” he said, though there was a slight tightness in his voice, like he wasn’t sure where you were going.

“We find an office together.” you continued, choosing your words carefully, watching the way his fingers stilled on the napkin, his eyes fixed on yours. “We share rent, expenses, everything. But…I am me, attorney at law, and you are you, Alex Turner, attorney at law. Both free to practise as we see fit.”

His mouth twitched at the corners as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table, narrowing his eyes just a little, like he was trying to see the full picture. “Separate firms…under one roof?” he said slowly, tilting his head, brow furrowed.

“Yeah.” you nodded, gaining a bit of momentum. “Why not share a ride? You do things your way, and I do them mine. Not partners, exactly…”

“Solo practitioners…together.” he completed, his voice quiet, almost like he was speaking the idea into existence. He sat back again, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it more. His lips parted, and for a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared at you with a half-lost expression, as if trying to see all the angles of this new idea you were offering him.

You bit your lip, waiting, your heart hammering just a little. “What do you think?” you asked softly, not sure how he would take it.

He stared at the table for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly again, then he exhaled a long breath. “I, uh-” He paused, looking up at you with a bit of that boyish uncertainty you didn’t see often. “I mean…yeah, I think it could work. I really do. But…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But?” you echoed, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach.

“I guess I always pictured us doing it together. Like, actually together, as partners. Officially. You know, Turner &…” He waved his hand in the air, as if searching for the name that belonged next to his. “I like the idea of having you with me.”

His eyes softened, that vulnerability creeping back in as he let his hand drop to his lap. He shifted slightly in his seat, his leg bouncing under the table in a nervous rhythm. 

“Look…” you said, leaning in, trying to ease the weight you could see settling in his features. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I do. But I also want to be…me, you know? You run things your way, and I need to run things mine. No compromises. It doesn’t mean I don’t want us to be-” You stumbled, feeling the weight of what you were saying. “I mean, this way, we still have each other. We still share everything.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping for a second before finding yours again, that intensity returning. “Yeah, no, I get it. Really, I do. You just want-” He scratched his jaw, “You just want your space to work how you need to work. And we’d still be in the same place, so…yeah.”

You exhaled, relieved to see him processing, though the uncertainty still hung between you. “Exactly. We’d still be together. Just…independent too.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Leave it to you to make independence sound romantic.”

You smiled, the tension starting to ease from your shoulders. “Well, it kind of is, isn’t it?”

He raised his eyebrows, looking at you with a glimmer of amusement. “Okay, fine. I see the appeal. Solo practitioners together.” His eyes flickered to yours again, more sure this time. “I can live with that.”

You smiled, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “Good. Because I really think this could work for us.”

He pushed his chair back slightly, standing up and moving around the table toward you. As he approached, he bent down, his hand resting on the back of your chair as he brought his face closer to yours. “You know what? I think we’re gonna be just fine.” He kissed you lightly, his lips still tasting faintly of the spaghetti sauce, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“An A for effort for the meal by the way.” you teased, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

He grinned, his eyes warm and soft now, all traces of tension gone. “Next time, we order in.” He tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face, the flicker of excitement behind his eyes growing brighter. “Solo…together.” he repeated, testing the phrase out on his tongue like it was something new he hadn’t tasted before.

He took a step closer to you, his hands still on the back of your chair, but his voice was gaining momentum. “Solo together…That’s actually…perfect.” His eyes locked onto yours, lighting up with an energy you could feel sparking through the air between you.

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, the idea catching fire. “No one stepping on anyone’s toes…” he continued, his voice rising in enthusiasm. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could get a word out, he grabbed your hand, pulling you up from the chair with surprising strength. “This is it!” He was grinning now, practically glowing, his excitement infectious as he tugged you toward him.

Before you knew it, you were up against him, your hands pressed against his chest. He didn’t stop there, though. In one swift movement, he lifted you up, his hands firm around your waist as he effortlessly placed you on the table. The cold surface under your thighs was a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating off him.

“Alex-” you started, a laugh escaping your lips, but he was already kissing you. His mouth crashed against yours, hungry, eager. You barely had time to process the intensity before he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips.

“Solo…together.” he murmured between kisses, his hands now cupping your face as he pressed closer. “I love it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, each word punctuated by another kiss. You could feel the warmth of his stubble brushing your cheek as he moved from your lips to the side of your neck, his voice a low, breathless murmur. “We’d be our own bosses…No one telling us what to do…”

You gasped softly as his hands slid down your back, gripping you tighter, pulling you even closer to the edge of the table. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as his mouth found yours again.

“And-” another kiss, deeper this time, his hands roaming, the intensity between you building with every second, “we’d still get to come home to each other…Every single day.”

He pulled back just long enough to look into your eyes, his pupils dark, his face inches from yours, breathing hard. “Fuck, this is such a good idea.” His voice was rough, unrestrained. “No compromises, no pressure…but still together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a breathless sound caught between the rapid beats of your heart. “I’m glad you like it.” you managed to get out, your voice shaky but full of warmth.

“Like it? I fucking love it.” he growled, his mouth finding yours again, more desperate now. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he kissed you harder, his breath hot and ragged. 

You could feel the excitement vibrating through him, the way his body pressed against yours, each kiss deepening with the weight of his growing anticipation. “Solo practitioners…but always together.” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with something close to awe, like he couldn’t believe how perfectly the idea fit.

The table creaked beneath you as he leaned into you, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingers splayed against the small of your back. His kiss was urgent, full of need, like he couldn’t get enough of the idea, of you, of everything that was spilling out between you.

“We’re going to be unstoppable.” he whispered, his voice a low, husky rasp. “You…and me.”

Your head was spinning, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding on as his kisses grew more fervent, more insistent. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you against him like he wanted to fuse you together. Every word he spoke between kisses buzzed with that same electric energy, his excitement fueling yours.

“We’re going to be so fucking good at this.” he said breathlessly, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. His gaze was intense, almost overwhelming in its rawness. “Just you and me…killing it, every single day.”

And before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again, his body pressed against you, leaving no space between you as his hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly as if he was trying to get you closer, as if you weren’t already as close as you could be. 

Alex’s excitement grew like wildfire, his hands moving with purpose as he reached for the plates still scattered on the table. With a quick sweep, he pushed them to the side, the sound of ceramic sliding across the wood sharp in the air. You barely had time to react before he gently but firmly guided you down, your back hitting the surface of the table. His body hovered above you, his face inches from yours, eyes dark with hunger.

You felt the heat of him pressing against you, his hips grinding into your thigh, the hard outline of him unmistakable even through his clothes. His breath was ragged, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck as he groaned softly into you.

“You’re eager.” you managed to say. 

“You bet.” he whispered, a smile curling at the edge of his lips as he pressed his mouth to your neck, kissing his way down your body, even through the fabric of your shirt. His lips left a trail of heat as they moved lower. 

His hands slid over your hips, gripping you with a mix of tenderness and desperation, fingers brushing just under your shirt as he kissed his way further down your torso. His stubble grazed your skin as he paused at the hem of your jeans, his breath warm and steady against your stomach.

“Fuck- I wanna fuck you here.” he murmured, his voice thick with need. He pressed his face into your belly for a second, inhaling. “Can I fuck you here?” he asked, his voice low, rough, a plea that sounded more like a demand in its urgency. 

The question hung between you, his hands stilling on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles against your skin as he waited for your answer, his eyes locked onto yours. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, his body tensed above you, ready to close the space between you in a heartbeat.

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze never wavered. “Yes.” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could second-guess it. 

His lips twitched into a grin, but it was hungry, almost feral. “God, you have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this.” he growled, kissing your stomach again, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands were already moving, deftly undoing the button of your jeans, tugging them down your hips with a quickness that made your breath hitch.

As your jeans hit the floor, he kissed lower, over the curve of your hip, his hands kneading the flesh there before he pressed himself harder against your leg. You could feel him, all of him. 

He hovered over you again, eyes locked on yours as he nudged your legs apart with his knee. The friction between your bodies was maddening, and you could feel his impatience in every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath. “I’ve wanted you like this, right here, all night. Now I'm just waiting until I’ll get you on my desk…in our office.” he whispered against your ear, his voice a low, hoarse rasp as he kissed along your jaw, his body pressed into yours so firmly you could barely breathe.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Your cocobolo?” you asked, the absurdity of him obsessing over his desk even now making you bite your lip.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his expression full of dark amusement, a cocky grin spreading across his flushed face. “That’s right.” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry growl as he leaned closer, his mouth brushing yours with every word. “Fucking on my fucking cocobolo.”

The way he said it made you laugh softly, but before the sound could fully escape, he giggled, too, vibrating against your lips. It was that kind of infectious, unguarded laugh that made your chest warm, the kind of laugh that only Alex could pull off mid-seduction, somehow. 

His hands roamed over your body, tugging your shirt higher, fingers brushing your skin, sending sparks wherever he touched. He pulled back, just for a moment, his eyes flicking down your body, taking in every inch of you laid out beneath him. “Look at you…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low and reverent. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Without waiting, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tugged it gently, making you gasp. His fingers slid down your sides, hooking under your underwear, dragging them down as he pushed you further back on the table, the edge digging into your back but you barely noticed, too focused on the way he was looking at you. 

His hands were on your thighs, spreading them further open, his mouth back on your neck, murmuring into your skin. “I need to feel you.” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he rubbed himself against you, his erection pressing hard into your thigh through his pants. “I need to be inside you…right now.”

His desperation was palpable, but there was something tender in the way his hands gripped you, in the way he kissed your collarbone. Alex’s breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps as his hands fumbled with his zipper, the sound of it cutting through the heavy tension between you. His eyes never left yours, as he freed himself, his cock hard and straining in his hand. There was no hesitation, no teasing now. Just pure urgency.

He pushed your legs further apart, the rough edge of the table biting into your skin as he positioned himself between your thighs. And then, he was inside you. The force of it knocked the air from your lungs, his cock filling you completely, stretching you in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through you. You gasped, hands flying to grip the edge of the table as it wobbled beneath you, creaking under the weight of his movements.

He didn’t hold back. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into you, fast and rough, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants. The table shook beneath you with every thrust, the sound of it scraping against the floor barely audible over the wet sounds of your bodies colliding, over the ragged groans that escaped him every time he buried himself inside you.

“Fuck-” he groaned through clenched teeth, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel the bruises forming. His pace was relentless, his cock slamming into you over and over. “You always feel so good…so fucking tight.”

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but hold on as he pounded into you. His eyes were wild, locked on yours as he watched your every reaction, his mouth falling open in a breathless groan each time you clenched around him.

The table rocked beneath you, on and on, the legs threatening to give way, but neither of you cared. It only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, deeper, his hips grinding into you with a roughness that bordered on desperate.

His hands roamed over your body, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as his mouth crashed against yours in a brutal, hungry kiss. His tongue was hot and demanding, his teeth scraping your lips as he kissed you like he was trying to consume you entirely.

The pace was maddening, his hips never faltering, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, making your body tremble beneath him. 

“Alex-” you managed to gasp out, your voice barely more than a breath, but he cut you off with another hard thrust, a groan escaping him as he felt you tighten around him.

“I know-” he breathed against your ear, his voice rough, barely holding back. “I know, baby…I’m close too.” His movements became more frantic, more desperate, his body trembling as he drove into you, pushing you both closer to the brink.

Any control he might’ve had moments ago slipped. His hands were everywhere. Gripping your thighs, pressing into your hips, sliding up your sides. He needed to feel every part of you, to hold you closer. 

“Fuck.” he groaned, his voice a low rasp as he buried himself deep inside you again, harder and faster. He was losing it, his rhythm faltering as he got lost in the sensation, in the heat of you around him.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the way his cock stretched you with every ragged, unsteady thrust. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he cursed under his breath. 

You could feel him trembling, his body straining as he teetered on the edge, each thrust messier than the last. His mouth found yours again, a desperate, sloppy kiss that was all tongue and teeth. The heat between you was unbearable now, overwhelming. 

“Fuck, baby...I’m gonna come.” he groaned, his voice breaking as he thrust into you hard, hips slamming into yours with a final, urgent rhythm. His body tensed above you, his breath catching in his throat as he lost himself in the overwhelming sensation. His body shook with the force of it, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he spilled into you, warmth flooding between your legs as he gasped against your skin.

For a moment, it was just him, messy, overwhelmed, trembling above you as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, his cock still pulsing inside you. His breath came in heavy, ragged bursts, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly came down, his body pressed against yours in the most intimate way. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“That…” he whispered, barely able to form the word as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “That was…Jesus, that was…” He trailed off, too overwhelmed to finish the thought, his body still draped over yours, warm and heavy, but instead of slowing down, he rolled his hips again, a slow, deliberate thrust that made you gasp. He didn’t stop.

You could feel him still hard inside you, the slick heat of him moving against your sensitive walls as he resumed his rhythm, slower at first, but with that same intensity building all over again. 

“You didn’t come yet.” he whispered. His lips grazed your ear as he spoke, his hips bucking into you again. “I’m not stopping until you do.”

You moaned softly in response as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more insistent. The table beneath you creaked again, the wood groaning under the pressure of his movements, but all you could focus on was him, the way he felt inside you, the steady, relentless rhythm of his hips, pushing you closer to that edge.

His fingers slid up your sides, brushing under your shirt to find the bare skin of your waist, gripping tightly as his mouth found yours again. 

“I love you.” he groaned into your mouth, his voice hoarse as he pushed deeper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of you loud and wet in the small space between your bodies. “So much.”

Your hands flew to his hair, nails digging into his scalp as your body arched against his, a moan spilling from your lips as you felt the tension coil tighter inside you.

Alex was laser-focused on you, his cock pounding into you harder with each passing second. “Come on, baby.” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust deep, grinding into you just right. “Let go. I want to feel you come…Please.”

That was all it took. The pleasure that had been building finally snapped, your body tensing beneath him as the orgasm ripped through you. Your muscles clenched tight around him, a cry breaking from your throat. 

Alex groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his thrusts, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm. “There you go…” he breathed and he kissed you softly. “That’s my girl.” he murmured against your lips. 

He stayed there, buried deep inside you, still hard, his hips barely moving in slow, lazy circles. He groaned softly, but you could sense something building again, the tension in his body still present, still tight. His fingers dug into your hips just a little harder, his breath hitching, and without warning, his hips jerked forward, instinct taking over as he thrust deep again, making you gasp.

“Shit-” he muttered, his voice shaky, almost surprised. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, his body reacting on its own, still desperate for more. You could feel it too, the way his cock twitched inside you, his muscles tightening, and you knew he was close again. 

“Oh- oh god…” he gasped, his voice catching as he thrust into you hard, the pleasure building too fast, overwhelming him. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder. His entire body tensed, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he came again, barely able to process it, barely able to hold back. His release hit him fast and hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled into you once more. 

“Oh-” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips bucked one last time, his body shaking as the second wave of pleasure crashed through him, leaving him breathless and overwhelmed. 

He stayed like that for a moment, completely still at last, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cock still twitching inside you as the last of his release emptied into you. His fingers were trembling, his muscles slack as the intensity of it all finally hit him.

“Fuck...I didn’t-” he started, his voice cracking before he could finish the thought. His chest was still heaving as he looked at you, the dazed, wide-eyed look on his face betraying just how overwhelmed he was. Slowly, a lazy grin began to spread across his lips, like he was finally processing everything. “I didn’t think I’d...come like that again.” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “You…you’ve got me all kinds of messed up.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, your own breathing still unsteady. “Oh yeah?” you teased, your voice still breathless but playful, a little proud even. “Didn’t think you had another one in you?”

His grin turned more wicked and he opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could, you clenched around him reflexively, your body still sensitive. The reaction shot through him like electricity. He tensed, his whole body going rigid, and a groan slipped from his throat as he closed his eyes and his hands clutched the edge of the table, unable to take any more.

“Shit- don’t…I can’t.” he gasped, his voice trembling. “I can’t take any more.” He pulled out quickly, wincing as he did, his legs unsteady. “Not again...you’ll break me…I’ll die.”

You chuckled softly, a shiver running through you at the sudden loss of him, but the sight of him stumbling back from the table, almost collapsing, was too good. He looked utterly spent, but there was something ridiculously cute about it.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” you teased, smirking as you shifted on the table, watching him try to steady himself.

Alex shot you a half-hearted glare, though his smile was still there. “You keep doing that, and you’ll have to carry me out of this room.” he muttered as he staggered toward the nearest chair. He grabbed it, dragging it over with a dramatic sigh and practically collapsing into it with a groan. “I swear, I was two seconds away from my knees giving out.”

You laughed, still lying on the table, legs trembling slightly as the last waves of pleasure still lingered. “My poor, poor man.” you teased, throwing him a mock pout. “The table wasn’t so bad though, was it?”

Alex leaned back in the chair, still catching his breath, and gave you a lazy grin. “Oh, no complaints.” he said. “I mean, it was touch-and-go there for a second, but I think the table and I made it through.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back against the table, and let out a sigh of contentment. “Good to know I wasn’t the only one doing all the work.”

He shot you a playful look. “Oh, come on, give me some credit. I’d say I held my own pretty well. My knees would disagree, but they’re quitters.”

“You’re the one who wanted to fuck here.”

“Fair point.” he replied. As he sat, his hands absentmindedly reached down to tuck himself back into his pants, his fingers moving with a casual ease despite how shaky he still was. Once he’d zipped up his pants, he groaned, shifting in the chair as though trying to get comfortable.

Without a word, he reached for the buttons on his shirt, popping each one open slowly, his chest still rising and falling with every deep breath. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and pulled it to the sides, letting the cool air hit his skin as he leaned back. 

“Much better.” he muttered to himself, his head rolling to the side to glance at you. His chest glistened slightly with sweat, his skin flushed, and his breathing was still a bit unsteady as he sat there, letting the shirt hang loose on his arms like he’d given up entirely on any formality. 

“Cooling off?” you teased. 

He chuckled, eyes half-lidded. “Trying to. You’re too damn good at making things…hot. God…I’m wrecked.” he muttered, half to himself.

You snorted, your whole body feeling warm from the banter. “Next time, maybe pick a less risky location, Mr. Turner.”

He laughed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and shaking his head. “No way. The danger’s part of the fun.”

You laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “You know,” you said, voice still a little hoarse, “You’re dripping from me all over your floor now.”

Alex looked at you, dazed but amused, his eyebrows raising slightly as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “That’s fine.” he replied, waving his hand dismissively as if it was the least of his worries. “The floor’s seen worse.”

“Worse than this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“Oh definitely…absolutely.” he replied, sitting up slightly as he looked at you with mock seriousness. “I’ve dropped coffee, spilled stuff...once I even dropped a whole sandwich, oh- and, you won’t believe this one, one time I kicked over a glass of wine trying to catch a football. You’re just adding to the legacy.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Glad to know I’m in such good company.” you said with a chuckle, too exhausted to argue, and shifted slightly, your body still feeling heavy from everything. 

The mess of the moment didn’t seem to matter as much as the calm after the storm, both of you still caught in that lingering post-high. 

“You know, as much as I’d love to keep chatting about your floor’s sordid history I-”

“I need a shower.” he interrupted, his voice rough, like it took every bit of energy to speak, as if even just that required effort.

“Yeah, that. Me too.” you echoed softly, still not moving from the table, your limbs too relaxed to even think about standing yet. You both stayed like that for a few more seconds. “Come on, get up.” you said, finally mustering the energy to sit up on the table, your legs still feeling shaky. “If you’re going to shower, you need to move.”

Alex was glued to you like a second skin. His damp hair, still slightly mussed, was pressed against your shoulder as he half-draped himself over you. He wrapped one arm around your waist, fingers absently tracing the curve of your hip as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, so close you could feel the soft puffs of his breath. 

“Tired?” you asked, running your fingers lazily through his hair.

He let out a low hum, not bothering to lift his head. “Maybe, a bit.” he mumbled into your neck. “I just like you like this.”

“Like what? Barely able to move under the weight of your body?” you joked, but the affection in your voice softened the words.

“Exactly.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Just want to be close to you...Is that a crime, counsellor?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Not yet. But you’re on thin ice.”

Alex chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your shoulder. “Noted. Guess I’ll have to be careful. Wouldn’t want to be thrown out of bed for being too affectionate.”

“Who said anything about throwing you out?” you teased, shifting slightly but not making any real effort to dislodge him. “I’m too comfortable to move.”

“Good.” he sighed, his body relaxing even more into yours. “I’m not going anywhere anyway. You’re stuck with me like this now.”

“I can deal with that. It’s kinda nice, actually.”

“Nice?” he muttered, half asleep but still stubborn enough to keep the conversation going. “Just nice?”

“Alright, fine.” you admitted with a smile. “More than nice. But don’t let it go to your head.”

He grinned lazily against your neck. “Too late.”

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, his body practically draped over yours. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled, but Alex, in true form, couldn’t resist.

“Did you know,” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “that penguins propose by giving their mate a pebble?”

You snorted, caught off guard. “What? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” he replied, lifting his head slightly to look at you with an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “They find the perfect pebble, you know? And they give it to the penguin they want to mate with. It’s very romantic.”

You laughed softly. “Why do you know this?”

He shrugged, settling his head back down on your shoulder. “I don’t know, I think I saw it on some nature documentary. Thought it was cute.”

“So what, are you planning on proposing to me with a rock you find on the sidewalk?” you teased, running your hand absently through his hair again.

Alex chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Maybe. If I find a really good one, you never know.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’d prefer something a little more...you know, traditional.”

“It's sorted then.” he said, his voice low and sleepy again. “No sidewalk rocks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence again, the two of you just enjoying the feeling of being close, the steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against yours. His fingers resumed their lazy tracing over your hip. You felt that familiar warmth flood through you, feeling his quiet need for affection, and you turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his still-damp hair. “I love you too, you know.” you murmured softly. 

Alex hummed, pressing his face even closer to your neck, like he was trying to burrow into you. “I know…” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

You paused, frowning a little as you tilted your head to glance down at him. “Thank you?” you repeated, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Why are you thanking me for that?”

He shifted a bit but didn’t move far, his face still pressed against you. “Hmm?” he murmured, clearly not understanding your question at first.

Even though he couldn’t see it, you smiled, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. “Why are you thanking me for loving you?” you asked again. “That’s not exactly something you need to say ‘thanks’ for.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could feel him thinking, his fingers pausing their gentle movements on your skin as if he was trying to find the right words or come up with a good reason. But then he sighed, his breath warm against your skin, and you could almost feel the smile on his lips.

 “I don’t know.” he admitted quietly. “I just…yeah, I don’t know.”

You let out a quiet laugh, not mocking, just amused by how endearing he was when he got like this. “You don’t have to thank me, Alex. I love you because I do. It’s not a favour.”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough so that he could glance up at you with those sleepy, half-lidded eyes of his. There was something so soft about the way he looked at you right then. “I know.” he said softly, his voice a little raw. “But still…thank you.”

You gave him a look. “You’re ridiculous.” you whispered, reaching up to brush your thumb along his cheek. “But I love you, ridiculous and all.”

He smiled, that boyish grin that always managed to make your heart skip creeping across his face. “I’m just…I don’t know. Grateful, I guess.” he murmured, fingers resuming their soft tracing along your hip. “You put up with all of my bullshit. I get clingy, I say weird stuff, and you’re still here.”

You rolled your eyes but your heart was melting a little. “I’m here because I love you, not in spite of all that. Those are the things I like about you.” you said, your tone soft but teasing. “Even the weird penguin trivia.”

“Even that?” he asked, lifting his head more to look at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

You nodded, grinning. “Especially that.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m really lucky, you know,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, “To have you.”

“You’re getting too sappy on me, Turner.” though there was no denying the warmth in your chest. “But...yeah. I’m lucky too.”

He laughed softly, pressing another kiss to your temple before settling back down, his head resting on your shoulder again. “Okay, okay. No more sap. Just...let me be like this for a while.” he muttered, his body curling back into yours. 

“Stay as long as you want.” you whispered, your fingers trailing up and down his back in slow, soothing motions.

“You’re so stuck with me.” he mumbled, already half-asleep again, his breath evening out against your skin. 

“Yeah, you’re basically a human blanket right now.”

“Mmm, sounds about right.” he muttered, his voice fading into a drowsy murmur. He snuggled closer, if that was even possible. “I could stay like this forever…just you and me.”

“Me too.” you whispered. “Now sleep, Turner. I’m not going anywhere.”

a/n: i love him. (yet another version of alex i made up and became obsessed with)

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[lyssentome]

Might fuck around and stream myself attempting to study properly and/or continue my unfinished projects ngl

[dexaroth]

it's kind of a fun move to make my very very personal blog also the one I post my drawings on

ive purposefully done it to not create that kind of environment where it's just an account posting art, a one-dimensional abstract thing that's so detached that if I were to post something like 'teehee I tried to off myself so I'm opening comms to pay the bills' it'd be met with utmost surprise bc it'd break the illusion yknow?

but sometimes I do want some drawings to not have context. to be as impersonal as a vintage figure whose sculptor has never been fully known or a golden locket with the picture of someone who you don't know anything about

I want both, to be honest. it's always been a struggle of the need of external validation but also to not want to taint everything with myself

I want to draw a pet portrait for someone and not have it be judged with all the ramblings and half-jokes about how everything sucks every now and then.

I want to draw a guy being mechanically separated for no reason and not have it show up besides someone's pet portrait and having to explain to the average person I don't even know why I like gore so much besides rendering it is fun

it's all like a cycle of making it clear who is behind the art for context but also sometimes wanting everything to speak for itself and wanting a sort of pure reaction to it

and it culminates into that overly familiar feeling.. of wanting to be consistent. to have a feel, a look that you can maybe hope someone will identify as yours.. and the question is always the same - for what? why? why does it matter?

if anything the first thing I'd ever say to someone who remotely showed interest in art and wanted to know my side of it is that nothing matters and everything is subjective and that there will always be people who see too much meaning where there isn't and people who miss the point entirely. and that diversity is just as good as quality and not a binary switch that you have to pick for the rest of your life. and that often by trying to achieve perfection you just end up dumping what gave your art a personal touch because it wasn't absolutely on par with the version of you that you so desperately want people to identify you with or the vibe you want to give off or whatever else

it's kind of a problem that also has different connotations depending on the way wherever you post works, too

on devart and I think insta too favorites and likes are the easiest way to show a kind of support that happens to streamline everything into images on a page instead of actually taking in most detail, the title or description or lack thereof, maybe even a message or line or music lyric intended to aid in the perception.. that ends up getting completely ignored because it takes extra effort to do. and it gets exponentially worse the more people you follow

then, well.. tumblr. because of the way the posts are organized and at least show captions it has a bit of a leg up, but then the sideblog stuff comes up. posts 95% of the time only give traction to the account that posted it, so a sideblog where you reblog your art is pretty much just a gallery for the convenience of whoever follows them. if you post on that sideblog however, then that facilitates no one visiting your main and just looking at the drawings, leading to the art-artist detachment as it is also plenty of extra steps and effort

then, independently, the path you choose is hard to undo. choose to be unknown and be bound to the façade you have to keep and not break your persona, or put all bits of yourself out to the public and there will forever be an image/ background version of you that will contextualize everything you do

try to turn around and choose to hide and it will put people off and affect how some will look at your new stuff now that you're less of a social butterfly because of the instinct of curiosity and wanting to know what happened , choose to show yourself and now you're too real and people don't want to associate with you because of the things you express or how it hits different knowing x and y or just not caring about you enough to be bothered to keep up with your life with sporadic drawings inbetween

it's all ironically about your own self-image and knowing others who know you

oh and it just hit me the financial side of things too. but that's too much for me rn and it's sort of a bonus to my point anyways

idk man. I feel like I'm having a stroke while an influencer tries to explain branding to me

[callmerainman]

First Man on the Earth still couldn't hit this | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

pairing. sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

themes. enemies to lovers, Adam reincarnates as a sinner, Reader is a royal guard.

spoilers! for Hazbin Hotel S1 finale

tw! mentions of sex, suggestive themes in general, the feminism leaving my body as I write for Adam

When Adam came back as a sinner and asked to be redeemed at the Hotel, no one was having that shit lmao.

But, as always, Charlie believes in second chances and it didn't feel right to her to just not let him in.

At only one condition: he would always have to be supervised by you, Lucifer's royal guard.

You were skilfully trained to become a guard at the royal family's services, and Lucifer had just the right mission for you in mind.

You accepted gladly, finally a task that wasn't guarding his rubber ducks.

But then you meet Adam, and you start immediately regretting the ducks.

You both find each other totally INSUFFERABLE.

He hates the idea of someone watching over him, so he lashes at you multiple times a day, as you talk back to him.

"Can't you just not stick your fucking angelic spear in my cereals?"

Despite your hatred for him, you took the mission very seriously and watched over him to check all his moves, just in case he had bad intentions.

But if you could, oh you would have ran away from his repellent presence the second you saw him at the Hotel.

He despises you so much that he doesn't even dare to flirt with you. You heard right. ADAM.

It takes some next level skill to get on his nerves to the point where he doesn't even want to sleep with you. And he remarks it a lot.

You do the same honestly.

"An old hag like you can only DREAM of having a piece of the original dick!"

Your face distorts in disgust "I would rather swallow all of Lucifer's rubber ducks than even think about it!"

At least you agree on something.

So your dynamic mainly consists of fighting, shouting at each other, name calling, pointing at his throat with your spear, Charlie separating you two as soon as you start throwing hands.

Speaking of Charlie, she had some special classes to make you two get along but they made things worse if anything.

One of them lead to the biggest fight you and Adam ever had.

As soon as you both get up to go to your respective rooms, still shouting insults at each other, Angel Dust raises one of his hands.

"Is it me or I sense some unspoken sexual tension?"

Everybody groans in disapproval, but immediately starts placing bets. Angel Dust is the only one who bets that you two will end up fucking.

In your room, you try to cool down but Adam is just making your job impossible. You're in fact fuming just by thinking about him and his stupid pretty face and his way of talking back to you.

Exasperated, you knock at his door, face already hot in anger. You want to set things straight.

As soon as he opens the door and sees you, he's already annoyed.

"You're making my job fucking impossible, you know?! If you really want to redeem yourself maybe you can start collaborating instead of being the most fucking annoying being to ever land in Hell!" you scream, pointing a finger at him.

Adam gets close to your face, towering over you "I'm not the one who asked to have someone fucking glued to my ass, you know?!"

Neither of you noticed your proximity, not until your foreheads were touching and you were breathing heavily against each other's faces, both hot. From anger, or...you know.

And then, something happens.

You both just lean in and kiss.

Oh boy Angel Dust may be onto something.

The moment you and Adam start to make out is the one you realize that all that fighting was your way of denying something that is now obvious.

The magnetic, undeniable sexual tension that wasn't just some weird figment of imagination.

In a matter of seconds you're all over each other and Adam drags you inside his room. You shut the door, just in case.

After you're done you find something else to agree on! 1. Best sex ever 2. No one has to know 3. Never again

You end up having sex again that very same day. And everybody knows because they heard you downstairs. A very lucky day for Angel Dust's finances!

Neither of you knew that the others at the Hotel were aware so you two would try to sneak out to have sex discreetly.

"We'll go upstairs to...uh...FIGHT! You know? Because we always fight! And we're totally not going upstairs to have sex...'cause we would never have sex with each other!"

Except none of that is discreet, you two go absolutely wild at it.

Meanwhile, you and Adam start to open up to each other more, mainly during pillow talk. You find out that you have a common music taste, and humor. Conversations flow so naturally, something that you would have never guessed.

Something blossoms, and you and Adam realize that you are head over heels for each other.

In the end, Charlie brings up to you two that everybody at the Hotel knows that you have been hooking up. On one side, because she's genuinely happy that you two get along in one way or another. Second, Alastor threatened to obliterate you both if you don't stop exposing him to your obscenities.

So you and Adam decide to stop keeping it a secret, to both yourselves and the gang, and officially become a couple.

Let's say that you still are all over him but in a very different way.

The other guests at the Hotel start regretting the times when you two would just shout at each other incoherently.

Lots of PDA, that's the point.

Not in front of Alastor though, you don't want to risk anything.

But what's more redeeming than a really, really, really stupid love?

[paper-mario-wiki]

Shangri-La Frontier mid-season review

This is by far the best fake video game I've ever seen written in fiction.

Most MMO-centric isekai stories have trouble with providing accurate and realistic depictions of the complexities and minutia that give MMOs the allure they have. I've seen so much handwavey bullshit tacked onto fake-games that introduce unrealistically overlooked mechanics for reasons like giving the protag immense power just because they're the protag and the story is about them. A good example of this is another MMO Isekai airing this season, "A Playthrough of a Certain Dude's VRMMO Life", wherein the main character becomes extremely rich, powerful, and famous by episode 2 because he stumbled into a stealth archer playstyle, a build which apparently no human in that universe had ever conceived of before, and then making a fortune by selling basic potions to everyone after NPCs stopped selling them (another thing he was uniquely able to do because not a single other player had the forethought to spec into alchemy). These lesser, dime-a-dozen isekai add up to be boring fantasy strories with gaming elements clumsily put in so that the author can demonstrate how powerful the world's inhabitants are by showing their stat allocation screen instead of, say, explaining anything about what they do that's so uniquely powerful and how they figured it out. Ya know, stuff you'd hope to hear about from any competent story.

Shangri-La Frontier is a breath of fresh air for anyone who, like me, is sick of authors ignoring the things that actually make video games compelling in service of creating a stock-standard narratives in fantasy worlds because it allows them to get away with bullshit. I've always found it very convenient that many isekai narratives indulge in things like chattel slavery, because it's societally normal enough for the protag to purchase a beautiful, vulnerable girl to add to his harem (dont worry, she is always inexplicably in love with him no matter what because he's SUCH a kind master). And it never really seems to go anywhere. Because the Video Game Isekai, while an interesting premise in theory, is more often than not used exclusively as a means to simplify the structure of a world's power scaling to abide by an arbitrary set of omnipresent universal rules (e.g. what people who have never cared to look into game development think of video games). This anime, by comparison, is VERY clearly authored by someone who plays a LOT of games.

Every piece of logic used to drive the plot forward, so far, is congruent to a real-world example of video game conventions, and I'm not just talking about levelling up and selling monster parts. Story elements that I've rarely (if ever) seen explored in other isekai are ever-present and genuinely clever and amusingly introduced. My favorite example of this so far has been the way the protagonist has been able to go head to head with so many overlevelled foes in the first 9 episodes. The story of course makes note of how good of a gamer Sanraku (our hero) is, but much like in real life games, being super duper good at dodging attacks doesn't really make up for a 70 level gap in items and learned skills. For that reason, he gets his ass whooped more often than he actually outsmarts others (so far he hasn't beaten a single player in pvp). So how is he getting out of these situations without dying so frequently? Simple: he got access to a later area too early relative to his level (sequence break) and got access to a high level follower NPC that's been carrying him. This is something he acknowledges directly several times, specifically using words like "Emul has been hard-carrying me for a while." This, to me, is extraordinarily meaningful. That's something you can exploit in Skyrim, man. That's REALISTIC CHEESE STRATS. The excitement and wonder I find in this show doesn't come from watching the protag do something unexpected, but by watching him do something that I would think to do.

This knowledge the author has demonstrated regarding modern gaming culture extends further into the actual realistic nature of game design and community. The story exists in a reality where full-dive VRMMOs are the be-all-end-all of gaming, and given the prohibitively expensive nature of developing and designing expansive, immersive worlds, most games are pretty shit. It's been hinted at so far that this is due to a monopolistic megacorp which is one of the only entities rich and powerful enough to make a good game (the game in question being the one that shares the title of the anime), but so far the strife of the characters have been pretty centralized to the happenings of the game world and its politics. By the way, lets talk about the game world's player base politics, which I'm also quite pleased with. It exists in the form of guilds and clans who struggle for power not by participating in seemingly random pvp with other powerful players to see who is the most epic and badass warrior (again, like many contemporary isekai typically opt for), but by gaining actual realistic support from a fictional playerbase with realistic desires and playstyles. Some guilds are interested in lore, some gather for alliance and boss raids, some for things like animal husbandry, and (naturally) at least one is dedicated to trolling and PKing. Each of these factions, through the very little that we've seen of them so far, communicate on forums and only know as much as is reasonable for them to know. The only reason they give a shit about the protagonist at all is because he gained access to a high-level unique scenario quest that they want information on how to access, and the only reason word of that got out in the first place was because someone posted a screenshot of him with a unique NPC onto a forum, asking about it as "where can i find this pet summon, its super cute!" That's real. That's video games, baby.

I like this show a lot so far. I like that it cares about video games, but I also like its writing. I like the main character and how hes less of an ultra badass super cool guy, and more of an earnest challenge-run lets player. Like, a lot of his dialogue straight up sounds strikingly similar to Japanese youtubers. And he's naturally always quick to point out inconsistencies in the game world's logic. I ALSO really like his community of pals from a janky old fighting game, and I ADORE the girl from his school who has a crush on him and also just so happens to be an exceptionally high level player from a top clan, and how she had to spend 9 episodes working up the courage to send him a friend request. I love that so, so much, dude.

I highly recommend this show if you're into a single thing I've mentioned. The animation is great. The world is beautiful. The character design is immaculate. And I'm looking forward to watching it continue.

[miirohs]

in the middle of the night [r.n.z]

pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader wc: 1.0k cw: there is a reference to something that is canon in the series, as well as one piece spoilers an: damn thats crazy my drive suddenly came back after years of being gone anyways this was inspired by swim by chase atlantic and middle of the night by elle duhé. note that if the tension is not tension-ing its bc i cant write tension.

Zoro felt more lost around you than anyone else.

You were chaotic and proud, kicking up dust and blowing it to the wind, and yet he liked you. He wasn't sure if he was in denial or acceptance about it.

Though for someone so loud, He knew almost nothing about you and anyone who asked you would only receive a smile, teasing them with tiny pieces dangled over their head like bait.

It irked him a little, if he was going to be honest.

No matter how hard he seemed to slash his sword at the pitch black sky, you seemed to linger in the back of his mind.

He paused for a moment, huffing as he turned the blade in his hand. Trying to cut air didn't seem to help a single bit.

As he leaned against his sword, the atmosphere seemed to have shifted. The wind was slowly dying down, the sound of crashing waves being the only thing he could hear for a heartbeat or two. He could have even fell asleep leaning against his katana if he really tried.

"Fancy yourself a little midnight training?"

He whirled around, tip of the katana aimed directly at your throat. You sat on the railing behind him, hair ruffling in the wind as you watched him with an amused smirk.

His grip on the katana didn't waver, but he lowered the blade slightly, still watching you. "What do you want?" He muttered, tone gruff as he sheathed his katana.

"You're always so serious, Zoro," you complained, swinging your legs idly over the railing. "And you're not, so i guess that balances out," He said, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"The way you talk to me , i makes me think you really do hate me," you hummed, leaning forward on the rails, trying to close the space, "Do you though, Roronoa Zoro? Or are you avoiding me for some other reason."

You both paused, and for the slightest moment you could have sworn you saw his eyes narrow slightly.

"Whatever. Anyways, I'm going back to bed," Zoro muttered quickly, turning his heel on you as you jumped down, light as a cat on its feet.

"Wait, Zoro. I have something to ask of you." He paused. You weren't just going to let him slip away just yet.

"What if we have a little duel? Just me and you." You said, traipsing to his side. "If you win i'll tell you whatever you want to know."

He stiffed up slightly and you grinned. You had him right where you wanted him. Bingo.

"Deal-" He muttered as you breathed a sigh of relief, holding out a hand. "But don't expect me to go easy."

You jumped, tumbling across the floor shocked by the sudden strike. Your hands reached for the sword behind you as you got up, leaning against the railing.

"You play dirty, Roronoa."

"We're not having an official match. After all, you're the one who wanted this," Zoro retorted, a menacing look on his face as you got up.

"You're right," you conceded, a smirk playing on your lips. "No official match. Just a little midnight sparring to lighten the mood"

He came for you again, but this time you were prepared, blade catching the moonlight as you struck him.

He managed to block, and from there you were stuck in a pas de deux.

Your swords continued to clang, and you continued to doge effortlessly, almost dancing on your feet as you got closer.

"Come on marimo, tell me this isn't all you have!" You said sing-songy, pushing him back once again.

It was obvious from the look on Zoro's face that he didn't expect the skill level you had from you. While you did gain a lot from watching him fight, this also wasn't your first rodeo.

As he swung for you again, you managed to hit his side with the spine, sending him back a foot or two.

"Oh you've done it now," He snapped, charging at you once again, "You just had to do that, didn't you?"

Out of nowhere, he striked harder, moving fast as you had seen him move in the field. You, for once, struggled against defending the blows, as he randomly disappeared and reappeared.

For a solid moment, his blade scrape against your eyebrow, and you stumbled. He managed to disarm you, forcing you back into the corner you had come slinking out of, sword to your throat.

You could feel the tip barely pressing against it as you breathed deeply, grinning.

"You got me," you conceded, your voice laced with a playful tone. "But you'll have to admit, that was a hell of a fight."

He grimaced, clutching his chest slightly as he watched you through hawk eyes.

"Where the hell did you get all that from? I didn't even think you knew how to hold a sword?" He hissed, pressing the katana a little deeper on accident.

The feeling of warmth trickling down your skin told you everything, and you reached up, holding the blade firmly into your hands. It dug into your skin, yet the smile never dropped off your face.

"I wasn't just a dancer. I use to be a pirate too." He pressed a little more, and you winced.

"I was... apart of the black cat pirates, three years ago. It was around the time Kahladore- or should i say, Kuro, went missing. I saw my chance and i ran." You whispered, watching him carefully. There was no telling what he would do with the information.

"Have you kept this a secret from all of us this whole time?" He gawked. You only blinked, taking time to process the question.

"Nami knows. She's the only one i told, except now i've told you too," You admitted, looking up at him through hooded eyes.

"How do i know you're not going to-"

"Betray you all? Do you think that lowly of me?" You refuted, pushing his blade away from your neck.

"Now let me ask you something, Roronoa Zoro? Do you like me?"

The silence seem to stretch on, thickening every moment you sat there. He didn't say anything, and you sighed. "Shame. I thought i might get something out of you, but i maybe i was wrong about it."

You sat up on the rails, arms outstretched as you leaned back, hair whipping wildly in the wind as you shut your eyes, "shame, it was a wonderful night."

A sudden yank back awoke you, a yelp escaping your mouth as you skidded and landed on him.

Wait.

You landed on him.

Your cheeks flushed as you scrambled back, at a loss for words.

"Uh... I'm- oh, i'm just going to go to bed-"

Zoro watched you with an amused glint in his eyes as you stammered out your intentions.

"Y/n."

"Yes?" You mumbled, burning feeling spreading to your ears as he called you back.

"Maybe i do like you."

"What?" You squawked.

"Maybe I have liked you," he repeated, his voice softer this time. You were sure if there was a little more light, you'd see a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

A smile spread across your face. "I just knew it."

"Don't rub it in." He grumbled, rolling his eyes as you sat up, gleeful.

"I won't," you replied with a mischievous grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "But I have to admit, it's nice to finally hear you say it."

Zoro shifted uncomfortably, his usual tough exterior momentarily cracked by his confession. "Yeah, well, don't make a big deal out of it."

You chuckled, warmth settling in as you got up from his side. "Of course not. This can just be our little secret."

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, our secret."

As you climbed down the steps, you paused, turning around.

"Also, if you tell anyone about the fact that i can use swords, i will find you and duel you to the death."

"Sure you will."

"Will too."

"Will not."

"Will too."

[sunny44]

Surprise visit

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader

Warnings: none I guess.

Summary: Your friends visit you at work.

This is a request.

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon at the bustling childcare center where I work. Laughter of children filled the air as they played with toys and engaged in various activities. I was in the middle of organizing a craft session, helping a group of toddlers glue colorful pieces of paper onto their creations, when I heard the front door chime.

I glanced up, expecting to see another parent picking up their child or someone from school that wanted to talk to me, but instead, I was surprised with unexpected visitors. Standing at the entrance, with wide smiles on their faces, were none other than Carlos, Lando and Charles.

The three Formula 1 drivers seemed somewhat out of place in the childcare center, yet their presence brought an instant energy and excitement to the room.

"Surprise!" Carlos exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he waved.

I blinked, trying to process what you were seeing.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, a smile spreading across my face despite the shock of. Seeing he three of them.

Lando grinned and stepped forward, carrying a large bag.

"We remembered you work here and thought it would be fun to come by and see the you and your little ones."

Charles nodded, his expression warm and genuine, and god I love that smile.

"We know how much you love your job, and we wanted to see you in action."

Before you could respond, a chorus of excited giggles erupted from the children. They recognized the famous faces, their eyes wide with wonder and delight. One brave little boy approached Carlos, tugging on his pant leg.

"Are you a race car driver?" the boy asked, his voice filled with awe and Carlos crouched down to the child's level and nodded, smiling warmly.

"Yes, I am. Do you like cars?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, and soon, the drivers were surrounded by a small crowd of curious children. Lando and Charles joined in, each taking a moment to chat with the kids and answer their questions.

I watched the scene unfold, my heart was swelling with gratitude and happiness. It was surreal to see these world-famous athletes so effortlessly engaging with the children, bringing joy and excitement to their day.

"Do you mind if we join the craft session?" Lando asked, looking at you with a playful glint in his eye.

"Of course not," you replied, laughing. "The more, the merrier."

The drivers eagerly rolled up their sleeves and dove into the activities, helping the kids with their art projects and even making a few of their own. Carlos proved to be surprisingly skilled with a glue stick, while Lando's creativity knew no bounds. Charles, meanwhile, patiently assisted the younger children, his gentle demeanor putting them at ease.

I was distracted organizing a few things when Mila, a little bonde blue eyed girl called me.

“Yes, dear?”

“Is the boy with dark hair and dimples your boyfriend?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he’s looking at you the same way my dad looks at my mom.” she says and when I looked a Charles he stoped looking.

“He’s not my boyfriend Mila.”

“Do you think hell be mine if I asked him?” I smiled at her innocence.

“Maybe you should ask him?”

Then she ran to him and touched his shoulder to catch his attention.

“hey cutie.”he says and she smiled at him.”

“Ca I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend since your not Miss Y/L/N boyfriend?” She asked and I had to control myself to not laugh.

“I think I’m a bit old for you.”

“But I think your so pretty and I love your dimples.” She says and he smiled at her.

“Well thank you for that but I kinda like another girl so…”

“Wow, that’s awesome.” She said happy making him giggle. “Well thank you though.”

“No, thank you.” She hugged him and he looked at me and smiled.

The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur of laughter, conversation, and colorful creations. The children adored their unexpected visitors, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy as you watched the drivers interact with them.

As the day came to a close and the children were picked up by their parents, Carlos, Lando, and Charles helped you clean up the classroom. They thanked you for letting them visit and expressed their admiration for the important work you did every day.

"It was our pleasure," Charles said, giving you a warm smile. "You're doing an amazing job here."

"Yeah, this was really fun," Lando added. "We should do it again sometime."

Carlos nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. Thanks for letting us crash your workday, Y/n."

I couldn't stop smiling as you walked them to the door. "Thank you all for coming. You made the kids' day—and mine, too."

“We’re going for dinner today so, if your available.” Charles said.

“Oh yeah, you should come.”

“Okay, text me the details and I’ll see you guys later.”

“Great, see you.” Lando says and they leave.

After the door closed behind Carlos, Lando, and Charles, the childcare center felt quieter, though the air still buzzed with the excitement left behind by their visit. I gathered the last of the craft supplies, still replaying the surreal afternoon in my mind.

The children, now mostly gone, had left their colorful creations drying on a nearby table. I took a moment to admire the art, some pieces embellished with extra flair thanks to the drivers' help. It felt like a dream, having them there, but the tangible evidence of their visit was scattered across the room.

As I finished tidying up, I heard the familiar sound of my phone buzzing in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a message from Charles.

Charles

Hey! We’re meeting at La Nona at 7 PM. Looking forward to seeing you there!

I felt a flutter of excitement. Dinner with them would be the perfect way to end this unexpected day. I quickly replied:

You

Sounds perfect! See you then.

With the room finally in order, I said goodbye to my colleagues and stepped out into the warm evening air. The drive home was filled with a mix of anticipation and disbelief. I quickly showered, changed into a casual yet stylish outfit, and headed to La Nonna.

The restaurant was cozy, with a welcoming ambiance. I spotted them almost immediately—Carlos, Lando, and Charles were already seated at a corner table, their laughter and easy conversation drawing me in.

Charles noticed me first, his eyes lighting up as he waved me over. “Y/N! Over here!”

I approached the table, smiling as they stood to greet me. “Hey guys, thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course,” Carlos said, pulling out a chair for me. “We’re glad you could make it.”

As I sat down, the conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about their visit to the childcare center, their racing experiences, and even shared a few personal stories. It felt like catching up with old friends rather than dining with world-famous athletes.

At one point, Lando leaned in with a mischievous grin. “So, Y/N, what did Mila ask you about Charles?”

I laughed, recounting the adorable exchange with the little girl. Charles blushed slightly, his dimples deepening as he smiled.

“She’s quite the matchmaker,” he said, glancing at me with a warmth that made my heart skip a beat. “She asked if Charles was my boyfriend and when I said he wasn’t, she asked me if he would be her boyfriend.”

“Look at you, making all the girls fall in love with you.” Lando says.

“Speaking about boyfriends and girlfriends,” Carlos chimed in, “do you think she’ll be happy if she finds out you’re taken and it not Charles?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m not taken,” I clarified, trying to keep my tone light.

Charles gave me a thoughtful look. “Not yet, anyway,” he said softly, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than necessary.

The rest of the evening was a blur of delicious food, laughter, and easy conversation. As the night drew to a close, I felt a mix of contentment and excitement about the future.

Walking out of the restaurant, Charles fell into step beside me. “Can I walk you to your car?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied, feeling a flutter of nerves and anticipation.

As we reached my car, Charles turned to face me. “Today was amazing, Y/N. Seeing you with the kids, how much they adore you—it was something special.”

“Thank you,” I said, touched by his words. “And thank you for coming. The kids loved it, and so did I. Specially Mila”

Charles laughed and a few seconds later he hesitated for a moment, then took a step closer.

“I was serious earlier,” he said quietly. “About being interested in someone. I know this might seem sudden, but I’d really like to get to know you better.”

My heart raced as I met his gaze. “I’d like that too, Charles.”

He smiled, his dimples deepening. “Great. How about we start with a proper date, just the two of us?”

“I’d love that,” I replied, unable to hide my excitement.

“Then it’s a date,” he said, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. “I’ll call you tomorrow to make plans.”

As Charles walked away, I couldn’t help but smile. Today had been full of surprises, and as I drove home, I couldn’t contain my excitement about our future date.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“My babies project of the day” posted at: 10:34am

“Friends, pasta and lots of wine.” Posted at: 8:30pm

[unholyhelbig]

any chance for a kate x reader angst?

Title: Firecrest (Part 1/???)

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4075

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, fire, mentions of childhood abandonment, horrible grammar (I don't proofread lol), and things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

[A/n: how about enemies to lovers angst? How about Enemies to lovers with a little fake dating sprinkled in there? Let me know if this is something you all would like to see continued!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Your mother had the in-depth beauty of a street dog. Her features were angular, yet soft and welcoming. People were often tempted to reach and run their fingers through her fur. But she tended to gently correct. She had the perfect demeanor for a government spy. However, you had always known her as a brilliant biochemist. Alluring in her brilliance.

The soft lights of the city shaded her face in the back of the taxi. The air had warmed significantly, but the low hum of the air conditioner made you pull your suit jacket close to your breast. The maroon had felt like too much at first. But the impressed nod from the woman next to you was enough to ebb away any doubts.

Your mother popped open her compact and swiped her finger against the corner of her mouth, taking away the smudged gloss that wasn’t noticeable in comparison to her presence. There was not much you feared in this world, but her wrath. Her annoyance. Her disappointment. None of which she flashed often.

“Remember what we talked about, y/n.”

“Of course. Would you like me to repeat it?”

She snapped the compact and leveled you with amusement. Her eyebrow lifted, the start of a smile at the corner of her lip. She couldn’t be serious. You made eye contact with the taxi driver in the mirror. He showed the same amusement that your mother did, yet somehow, hers stung more.

A groan escaped you, but bled into the mantra that was drilled into you for the past two weeks. “I will be the perfect lady who is grateful for the success of Lance and his political circuit.”

“And?”

“I will not start anything I can’t finish with Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, And I’m an adult perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“That wasn’t part of it.” Your mother corrected softly. Her hands were suddenly on you, smoothing down the lapel of your suit. “But It’ll do. Mostly, because we’re here.”

Eleanor Bishop often held her galas in the historic buildings of downtown Manhattan. There were small pamphlets lingering by the extensive hand-carved doors. They’d detail the rich family that had built it from the ground up. The architecture was always admittedly beautiful, and Eleanor had a subtle, expensive taste.

This venue was no different; stretching hallways and men in suits that mirrored yours in a tasteful black. Your mother never stepped ahead of you, instead holding a hand out and helping you from the back of the taxi. You’d left a generous tip, careful not to shove your hands into your pockets.

“This used to be a museum for fine arts and culture. The last I heard; the city was going to tear it down but made it a historical site. They use it for banquets now, I suppose.”

“Oh? You’ve read the informational booklet, then?”

She jabbed her elbow into your ribs and mocked a scowl. “No. I robbed it. How do you think we paid for your college tuition, kiddo?”

That was an exaggeration. You were 90% sure- maybe 75%. Bobbi Morse was a force to be reckoned with, and that was something you had learned from a young age. She’d let you sit on the counter of her lab while she worked, and you’d watch her with absolute awe.

Your mother had taught you, without fail, a variety of fighting skills. Starting with Aikido and ending with Taekwondo. She was a master at her craft, both in the field and in her lab and had worked with you since you could walk to train you in the same.

“Mm,” You hummed your response, “Which priceless painting did you take?”

“It was a vase, smart-ass.”

You pulled in a breath to retort before effectively being rendered silent by the performance hall. Eleanor Bishop had gone all out for the benefits that she backed. This was a vast space that was adorned in white sheer and glittering lights. A slideshow of the sponsored bird sanctuary flashed on the televisions scattered throughout the space.

There was a band on the stage, string instruments that you could feel in the center of your chest. The low notes shuddered through you as you took in the crowd. There were few that you actually recognized, usually hazed in expensive alcohol and lingering by the food, or some form of fresh air.

“It’s ironic that it’s about birds, right?”

She leveled you with an unimpressed look and squeezed your shoulder fondly. It didn’t take long for Lance to make his way over to the both of you. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his freshly-shaved face. He gave you a small wave, gently exiting the conversation he was having with a congressman, a millionaire, or an architect that was just the right amount of desperate.

Lance Hunter had stolen your mothers heart when you were ten years old. You always assumed it was the accent, but the more you got to know him, the more you understood his charms. Lance had never forced things with you, had never claimed to be your father.

There were quiet moments when he’d join you on the wrap-around porch of your family home and just sit. The two of you would watch the way the sun dipped behind the horizon, sipping on syrupy cans of soft drink. Eventually, you talked to him, and he listened with diligence.

“My girls,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead before sidling up next to Bobbi. They had effortlessly matched in a deep and royal blue that contrasted the ignited red of your own suit. You were the perfect epitome of a political family.

Eleanor Bishop had given you a brief nod of the head, signifying your presence. It was a silent warning told through blackened eyes: Behave.

Her diligent attention was enough to split your family up. You preferred to linger away from the stuffy socialites. Bobbi and Lance were required to mingle. You plucked a flute of bubbling champagne from a passing tray and moved towards one of the elegant support beams decorated with what you now learned, was real foliage.

The floral scent tickled the back of your throat, so you took a generous swallow and let the alcohol warm your stomach diligently. There had to be something interesting around here, away from the rest of the party. A plague or two that would further explain the venue.

A burst of forced laughter greeted your parents as they sidled up next to Jack and Eleanor. Lance had produced some campaign buttons, which the group took without hesitation. You had to admit, he was loveable and politician-worthy.

“Look at us, we match.”

You swallowed back a groan, not bothering to look over. A small noise still escaped you, and the grumble conveyed your exact disposition towards Kate Bishop. Disgust. Annoyance. The slightest bit of attraction. She overwhelmed your senses with her crisp, winter scent.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over at her. She was in red too, incredibly vibrant against her soft expanses of exposed skin. The dress had a dipping neckline, revealing the freckles that created constellations against her collarbone. She beamed with irritation. You’d never admit that she was captivating.

“I thought you were given explicit instructions to leave me be.” You said between gritted teeth.

She hummed and grasped the drink from your hand. Kate was calculated in her movements, wrapping her lips around the smudge of lipstick that you’d already created on the rim of the glass. She didn’t break eye contact, those slate orbs boring into you.

“We both know you’re the most interesting thing at these parties.”

“I’m not falling for your… charms, Kate Bishop. Your mother may have bought you out of our consequences last time. But, I have more at stake.”

She scoffed and set the now empty glass down on the nearest table. You knew damn well that Kate wasn’t absolved of accountability after your run-in a few months back. She held herself differently now, and it was a minute expression of her posture that caught your attention.

There was a small split at the corner of her lip, and a healing bruise just at her hairline. She’d attempted to use makeup to cover the abrasions, but you had a trained eye. You were your mother’s daughter. These were defensive wounds. And for just a moment, you worried that the Bishop’s had a heavier hand than you’d anticipated.

But then, Kate’s muscles flexed and her head lilted to the side, dark curls splaying over her shoulders. She had grown stronger. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least, it shouldn’t’ have been. But you knew every inch of her body and despite your forced separation, she’d grown steady of herself.

“Why should I be punished, when you’re the one who set the curtains ablaze.”

You leaned close enough to feel her body heat. To her credit, she didn’t step back. A ghost of a smirk was on her lips. You snarled your words. “And who’s fault was that?”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know you’d get trigger happy with your powers when I went down on you.” She gave you a cocky pout. “Is that a new thing, or have you never been able to handle yourself in moments of pleasure?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from grasping at the strap on her dress, pulling her closer to you out of a burst of anger. The phantom look of confidence spread into a full-blown grin. You were exasperated, the familiar heat burning just under your skin.

It was true, you’d lost control for just a moment, with Kate Bishops head between your legs, one hand buried deep in her mess of tangled hair. As an orgasm washed over you, thighs shaking, your other hand had drifted too close to the drapes and had caught them ablaze.

Despite the both of you being adults, you were separated within an instant. Dragged embarrassingly away by your respective parental units after the fire was put out. The last you’d seen of her was reflected with the flashing red lights of a rumbling fire engine.

Kate had a devilish look in her eyes. “Harder, baby.”

“Ladies,”

It was a resolute sound that had you pulling apart as if she was a toxic entity. In your book, she was. Both hands landed in your pockets and the two of you looked sheepishly at Eleanor. She’d been keeping an eye on you, you were sure. And had made a direct line to you the second Kate had given you that salacious look.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bishop. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kate coughed out something that sounded like ‘Kiss ass’ and covered it up with a doe-eyed look of innocence. She may not have been afraid of her mother, but you were terrified. Bobbi had a soft hand. It commanded you like a weapon, and you were happy to do what you were told.

Your own punishment had consisted of heavier training. Both mentally and physically to perfect control that you’d had mastered years ago when you were nothing but a girl with streaks of tears dripping from your chin. The fire had been too strong then, overwhelming and horrible.

“Good evening, Miss Morse, I trust you’ve found a way to entertain yourself during the benefit that isn’t antagonizing my daughter.” Before you could answer, she turned her attention to Kate. “And you. I specifically allowed you to bring a guest in attempts to keep you away from Bobbi’s little arsonist.”

She had been under the full impression that you’d taken a zippo to the hanging drapes. It was the white-hot flames that leaked from your own fingers that had done the damage. Kate was thankfully tight-lipped about the fact, and you let the socialite think whatever she wanted. She hadn’t pressed charges.

Kate pulled her shoulders back, almost looking offended at the name you were tagged with. Almost. “Clint got stopped at the front for an autograph, mom. I’m just biding my time.”

“Bide it somewhere else. We’ve talked about this.”

Eleanor gave you a tight-lipped smile that had noticeably softened compared to the venomous expression she held for Kate. A light squeeze was delivered to your arm. It had always scared you how quick she could switch like that. Her shoulders pulled back as she wandered back over to her group.

Lance lifted his chin in your direction. Silently asking if everything was okay, and it was. His quiet reassurance brought the heat licking at your stomach to a bubbling halt. Why you cared more about Eleanors disposition towards Kate, then her acidity directed at you, was beyond something you were willing to confront.

“Who’s Clint?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Can we have a normal conversation, please. Is it so shocking that I’d take interest in your friends?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yes. If you must know, he’s not a friend. He’s a mentor. He’s, my partner.”

Both of your eyebrows lifted. Partner in what? It wasn’t something you would audibly voice, save you show any concern past the normal amount that you usually had for Kate. The tautness of her muscles, and the superficial injuries made that discomfort return to the pit of your stomach.

Kate was an archer. You knew such from the trophies that littered her dresser the one time you’d been privy to her room. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid much attention. You were backed against her door and her teeth were scraping against your pulse point. But the little gold figures and the child-sized bow on the wall was enough to of a giveaway.

You only knew one archer, and you knew him distantly; from photos that your mother had blacked out with a sharpie. She’d later told you that she regretted the fact because the memories of the three of you would always remain.

The taste of bile filled your throat and Kate lilted her head to the side, like a golden retriever that had heard a piercing noise. There was a surprising amount of concern in her voice. “You okay? You’re looking a little green.”

“Hm? Yeah. Totally. The champagne is just sitting weird.”

A frown had found its way onto your face, and you directed your attention back to the crowd. It seemed that Eleanor was satisfied enough with the two of you lingering in silence. You were trained to know where the exits were in any venue. Kate’s stare shockingly darted in the same pattern as your own.

People had trickled in until the floor was bustling with conversation. You let your shoulders relax in the slightest bit, swallowing back the acrid taste in your mouth. Eleanor had lost her viewpoint of you and her daughter, and you weren’t much in the mood for fighting her on pure proximity.

“There you are, god, I didn’t know this many people cared about birds.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your narrowed eyes from flashing to the intrusion. Whatever distracted Kate was enough to be deemed a savior in your book. But the voice was familiar, painfully so. It was as if your body reacted by busting out in goosebumps, chills rushing down your spine.

Now, you wanted your mother to be able to see you. You were a strong, and capable adult that knew at least six different ways to kill a person without a weapon. You’d gone on missions with your mother, with your Aunt Daisy, too. A simple man in a simpler suit should not make your knees weak.

Yet- here he was. In a charcoal black ensemble with a pocket square that was a flash of purple. It was a color you’d grown to despise. It was an eyesore, as was the man that stood at a height taller than Kate, but just a few inches.

You’d found a singular picture of him that wasn’t defaced in your mother’s nightstand. A polaroid of the three of you on the beach. The sun had turned your cheeks a flushed pink. He had you in his arms and beamed at the camera. Eyes matching the blue of the ocean.

They were the same now, the same vibrancy that you’d thought about. He looked other, worn from parenthood and the effects of time. Of course, you’d seen him on television, but Bobbi had always been quick to flick it off, only lingering during the Sokovia accords.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, but you were careful to keep your jaw stock still. You weren’t going to give Clint Barton the satisfaction of rattling you. Not here, not if he ever decided to show up when you had a family of your own. Not on your deathbed. He couldn’t invoke that from you.

Kate had learned to pick up on body language, and she had learned fast. Her stare shifted between both you, and Clint. She had the right amount of perception to keep her mouth shut, even taking half an inch step back. She was in a position to hold the two of you apart, if need be.

“Holy shit,” He breathed out, “Sparky.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.”

You were taken aback by your own ability to produce words. They were pinched and had dropped down an octave to true anger. Not the type that Kate Bishop was used to. Sure, you had aggravation directed towards her, but nothing short of teasing.

Clint took a slight step towards you, and you took a large one back, nearly bumping into the support beam wrapped with vines and vibrant flowers. Your hand reached out to grab onto it for support, but Kate’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. Right. Yes. That would be the safe bet.

You needed to find Bobbi.

Chances were, Clint hadn’t seen her with the growing attendance. You could slip out through the large storm doors that were a few feet behind you. At least then, you could burn scorch marks into the grass and not into this historical building.

“What is happening?” Kate said, refusing to remove her hand from your wrist. You didn’t wrench it away, either. It was a force, a grounding factor. You refused to let the fire move past your fingertips in fear that it would burn her. “Clint?”

“She uh… She’s…”

The words died in his throat. You couldn’t’ stand looking at him, pale as ice and wringing his hands nervously. He couldn’t hold still, but you were like a stone. Almost as if he would vanish the second you averted your stare.

“I’m his daughter.”

Kate’s hand did move from your wrist and to your hand, almost out of instinct. Your relationship, or lack-there-of, had never required this kind of closeness. But She was hanging on tightly, nails digging into your skin. The slight sting brought you back.

Clint croaked “How’s your mother?”

Kate winced and you felt the spring in your spine loosen. He was more nervous than you were and that gave you an advantage. “You can ask her yourself. She and Lance are mingling.”

“Lance is here?”

“Of course.”

He was running for congressman. It would damage his campaign if he hadn’t shown up. The gossip blogs that followed the lives of New Yorks Elite had picked up on the rift between you and Kate. There were a few grainy photos of the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in foil blankets that made you look like Baked potatoes. There was soot on her chin, and you had wiped the darkness away with your thumb. Of course, that had been the moment they caught and wrote about, and plastered all over the internet.

Clint worked his jaw and cupped the back of his neck with a tepid smile. It wavered incessantly. He was boyish in his charm and that would always be the case, no matter how old he got. You knew he had a family now. A real family that didn’t’ consist of a secret agent and their match-happy daughter.

You gave Kate a squeeze with your free hand, signaling that you were fine. The last thing you wanted to appear was weak. She seemed to get the message loud and clear, wrenching her touch away with a nervous clearing of her throat.

“I’m sorry… Can we back up for a second?”  

Clint had a dejected look in his eyes that almost made you feel a twinge of guilt. Almost. Your own ego often got in the way of things, and this was one of them. There was a flood of emotions between both of the archers, a silent pleading to hear him out.

“You and Mrs. Morse dated?”

“They were married.” You snatched another glass of campaign, this one all for yourself. You swallowed the acrid drink and let the bubbles assault your throat. “When did the divorce finalize, again?

“Y/n”

“No, I was never really privy to the details myself.”

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

You finished off the rest of the drink, a certain amount of your defenses lower. You felt warm, but not warm enough to do something stupid. He was right. You shouldn’t do this here and if you had your way, you wouldn’t’ do it anywhere. You were perfectly content to let this man slip back into oblivion and train the Bishop heiress that you had a habit of bedding.

Clint seemed to let out a sigh of relief when you nodded in agreement. He scrutinized you both, the rush of initial shock ebbing away like a melting lake. Chunks of ice broke off and gave way to the familiarity and closeness the two of you held. It was relaxed, despite the rivalry that landed you here in the first place.

“No,” he drawled out, “No, no, no. Kate, you didn’t’.”

The tips of her ears were red enough to match your suit and the color that painted her own lips. She hid her face in her hands with a groan. But you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her against your side.

“Does that bother you, old man?”

It clearly did. Kate leveled you with a delicious glare that was unmatched but didn’t’ move from your hold. Was she letting you have this? You weren’t entirely sure. He was whipping his head back and fourth with enough force to break his own neck. It was making you dizzy, but giddy all the same.

Your moment of joy at his dismay was short lived. You caught the sharp scent of your mothers perfume. She’d cut through the crowd and furrowed her brow at your closeness to Kate. It took her a few moments to realize that Clint was here. To realize that he was the man that had spurred your act of rebellion in doing the exact opposite of what she’d requested at the start of the night.

Her cool eyes took him in just as yours had. Kate was still next to you, swallowing a dryness in her throat that you could nearly hear. Bobbi didn’t attempt to separate you as Eleanor had. Instead, she gave you a quiet stare. “Darling, I think it’s time we go. There’s a situation we have to attend to.”

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure.”

It hadn’t been, but you shocked yourself and Kate by leaning in and pressing a kiss just behind her ear, still blazing with blush. She froze but gave you the slightest bit of nod. Clint opened and closed his mouth like a surfaced fish, but kept quiet.

Your mother walked with a purpose, her shoulders pulled back and an elegance to her sway. You didn’t look back, keeping time with her as she weaved through the crowd and towards the lobby that was ten degrees cooler and much, much more welcoming.

“Is there actually a situation, or is this your attempt at a rescue?”

She ignored your question, stopping and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft look in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. “Are you okay, sweetie? I had no idea that he’d be here. I never would have made you come.”

“I’m fine, mom.” She didn’t seem convinced, so you added “Really.”

Eventually, Bobbi relented with a shaky sigh and cupped your cheek in a comforting manner. “Good. Okay. Good. Because we do have a situation.”

[ssailormoonn]

❛ Crush ❜

Kurosaki Ichigo X Reader

| SFW | REQUEST? Yes | -> Headcannons

REQUEST; @r333y - Hi I saw your requests were open and I thought I would request some bleach headcanons (or anything really) if that's ok. Would you mind writing ichigo and/or ulquiorra (separately if you do both) having a crush on gn reader? Like how would he develop it, how would he act around the reader or how would he confess. Just some fluff for our boys. Thank you for considering, good day/night. ♡

a::note; i don't usually write for a 'gn' reader but i will try my best as i did state in my request rules that i only write for fem reader:3

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST | SOUL REAPER M.LIST

How would Ichigo develop a crush?

I personally think that Ichigo would develop a crush on you regarding your abilities and strengths. Ichigo does meet important characters during conflicts and the start of his interest in you would be when you demonstrate your skill. Another one could be that you had a trait that stuck out to him, like there was something about you that didn't make sense to him, or that he wanted to know more about why you do the things that you do. I feel like mostly it would be how you fight, he feels interested in what you do and would like to know more about you because you are just so different to him.

Ichigo could see you in a vulnerable state, which could cause you to reveal your personal struggles. This reveals depth between your growing relationship and in turn, makes Ichigo feel more connected to you as you trust him.

Then it would lead to the both of you spending time with each other outside the battle field, experiencing everyday moments that show different sides of your personalities and discovering any shared interests or hobbies.

But there is one thing that I feel strongly about. I personally feel that Ichigo would need to have developed a crush on you specifically if he knows that you have the ability to look after yourself in battle. He wishes and craves that connection. Don't get me wrong, it's nice for him to save you and vise versa, but he needs to know that no matter what happens he will know that you are okay.

How would Ichigo act around the you?

To put it more precisely, when around that person, Ichigo will become a little edgy and out of his place. He may forget what he is about to say or may become a little clumsy. Although generally composed, Ichigo might blush or get flushed on his face if someone tries to tease him about his feelings when you are around. Ichigo will be quieter than usual but would glance your way, only to look hurriedly if you catch him looking.

And, I guess, Ichigo would detail an awful lot in your likes and dislikes, habits, and small details like that. But with Ichigo, I believe he's naturally overprotective, and of course, like I said before, he would have to trust in you that you could handle the situations you would get into because his protectiveness level would just shoot up real high. He'd be so concerned for you, worried for your safety and well-being, much such as to be overprotective. More of an Ichigo to care about your safety, maybe saying, "You need to be more careful! I can't always watch your back," then frowning at you.

Ichigo would just pretend to be irritable or impatient if he found you laughing with someone else, though he wouldn't tell you he's jealous.

He drives out of his way to do the kind of things that you do, whether that is something tough or easy for you, just being there when needed. Ichigo would offer to stay up late to help them understand anything they need help with. He would even sense it when you would feel low or stressed, and at that point, he would actually go out of his way to be someone who could comfort you, lend a patient ear, or show a shoulder to cry on. Even in small ways, like surprising them with your favorite snack or remembering to check in on them after a tough day, the ways Ichigo showed to care were consistent. His kindness will be real and sincere; this will convey that he has started caring more and wants you to be happy and supported.

How would he confess?

Ichigo would make sure that you two are alone when he confesses. He would probably spend a bit of time building up the courage, possibly starting the conversation with casual topics before diving into his feelings. He might struggle a bit but would try to explain what he feels :(( the poor baby.

You had noticed that Ichigo was behaving exceptionally differently with you these days, from his usual self, sometimes swapping his confidence for an insecurity that seemed awkwardly out of place. It was in little things: glances he took at her when he thought she isn't looking and the softening of his voice in speaking to her. Something in him changed, but he still tried to act as usual.

You could see that he had been wound up about something, and you kept your peace for him to talk when he would come around to it. After an ultra-long silence, finally, Ichigo took one great breath, as if he was steeling himself for what he was about to say. "You know," he started, extraordinarily reticent for being him, "lately, I've been thinking a lot—some thoughts about us, you know. You." He darted a glance at you in between, looking away afterward; the tips of his ears colored red. "I was never good with words, and this sounds. this is more difficult than anything I have fought."

The rush of emotions swirling in you had your heart racing. Ichigo pushed on, his voice gaining a bit in confidence. "I've always admired your strength, the way you carry yourself. But it's more than that. When I'm with you.I feel different. Better, somehow. You make me want to be better."

He turned entirely to face her, and his brown eyes were earnest and heartfelt. "I like you more than a friend. I don't know how to say it perfectly and I must spiral this somehow, but I had to tell you. I like you—you mean more to me than I can say, and I want to be there for you in any way I can."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST | SOUL REAPER M.LIST

ulquiorra one coming soon:3

[tallgirl14]

Chilchuck angst

I love this lil middle age man but i aslo live for angst so her are few my ideas because I need tell someone and if you have angst dm me we can talk about it

He carries a wallet size family portrait (when his girls were little) with him when he goes down in a dungeon, and he looks at it when he miss them. ( I feel like photos are probably pretty 💰💰 so they only had few consist wedding photo, baby photo mayjack she's fist born, then one of the whole family ) and this photo is chaotic and It makes him smile.

This is the ONLY photo he has of his entire family and he hasent seen them in few years with his kids grown living there own lives and him and his wife are split this photos all he's got.

How far would this man go for this picture. I can see chilchuck getting badly hurt because he went back to grab it and as Marcille is lecturing him about his reckless action as she's healing him.

Marcille: "What could have been so important that you risk your life over??"

Chilchuck: "my family or what's left of it"

He shows her the photo and marcille feels her heart drop she finally got to learn something about him and its sad ( this miscommunication leads to his group to believe chil family is dead )

Chilchuck taught Mayjack how to pick locks, and in the manga, he says when he dies, if they need someone, she'd be their first choice. SO he obviously took her through dungeon showing her how to navigate because being locksmith in a shop vs. dungeon is night & day different, dungeon being high pace environment.

Could you imagine how traumatizing that would be if saw her dad die in front of her AND NOT KNOW THEY COULD BE REVIVED!! (Seeing anyone die would be scaring) Especially if she felt it was her fault.

At first, Mayjack was curious about going into a dungeon with her dad to see exactly what he does she rember as kid seeing him come home late tired excused but mostly worn down.

Whenever she asked him about his work as a kid he was always vague or if he did talk about it was pg version and normally he was just trying scare us about going into dungeon. BUT one thing he made very clear, he didn't want any of her or her sister near the dungeon, but now that she's an adult, he couldn't stop her.

" I still don't want you near the dungeon, but you are a skilled locksmith, so you would be valued and well paid. IF you're still interested, I'll have you shadow me on my next small job so you can see what it's like."

At first, it was like any job we met with the client went over to the terms dad took payment, and then we headed over to the dungeon. I was awestruck by the new environment, but it quickly became overstimulating it took me a moment to adjust. the first few levels, dad had pointed out things to avoid what were scams & how to detect traps and walked me through a few I felt confident. Most importantly, when talking jobs, always have a skilled healer. Now I realize why as we enter new room dad was working on trap I was observing the room when I noticed treasure chest peaking out corner not knowing it was a mimick.

Chilchuck was Halfway through picking his lock when his dad sense went off. He quickly looked around room and spotted may messing with mimick

Chilchuck: "MAYJACK TIMS! get away from that!!" He starts running towards her

May turned to look at her dad, confused " why I already unlocked it?"

Her body stiffened as she could feel presents inside the chest, but before mimick could attach, chilchuck pushed her out of the way taking damage as it jabbed one of its claws through his neck causing him to bleed everywhere all mayjack could do was watch in horror paralyzed with fear trying process what happened. One of group members took care of mimick while she scrambled to her feet to get to here dad trying to put pressure on his wound tears flooding out

"Nonononno im sorry I'm sorry 🥺 "

As chilchuck lay there dying, he was more concerned with the fact he could comfort his daughter. This wasn't how he wanted to see death for the first time. Afterwards, the healer from their group came over and assured her he was going to be fine as she worked on reviving him.

Chilchuck let out a gasp and cough out some blood that had remained stuck in his throat. He turns to mayjack " that's why I told you to stay near me..." He moves toward her noticing her hands are strained with his blood. " are you hurt?... may? "

She shakes her head, and tears start to fall down her face he pulls her in for a hug. " it's ok, I'm ok ... I'm right here. " she hugs him tight, and they stay in that embrace for a while. When they finally break the hug, chilchuck wipes tears from her face.

" im sorry you saw that... do you want to go home.? "

" but the job?"

Chilchuck shakes his head " don't worry about it I brought someone along for that exact reason"

[greentrickster]

Okay, all you aspiring writers out there following my blog listen up, I’m about to lore drop something y’all may need to hear.

Now, I’m a Writer, capital letter and everything. It’s not my profession, it’s just what I am, simple as that. I’m thirty-five as I type this, and I’ve been writing for twenty-three of those years. Made the shift from someone who just does essays and stories and stuff for school to someone who Writes when I was twelve and decided, “I am going to write a Novel.”

Which I did.

Took me four years to finish, a hundred pages on Microsoft Word, single space, because that’s how long I thought it needed to be if it was going to be a novel.

And, y’all.

It’s bad.

Like, so bad.

Like, “I’m not even going to tell you what it’s about, only that it exists, this is a chapter of my life to be mentioned in passing, you will see no more, the way is shut, it was made by the dead and the dead keep it” levels of bad.

While I was doing this, I also wrote a lot of poetry. Some of that was okay. One of my ADHD powers is having a very good ear for both rhyme and rhythm, which is enough to get you labeled as the class poet in 5th  grade.

You won’t be seeing any of that either.

It’s not on par with the novel, but like... no one needs to be exposed to my teen-years poetry with the knowledge that that’s what it is.

Being a 1988 model, I didn’t discover fanfiction until about 2006. I was eighteen. The first thing I wrote was an absolute crack!fic that people enjoyed at the time, but which none of you will ever see without accessing the dark web or something similar because I’ve removed it from the legitimate internet. In fact, maybe just kind of treat anything of mine that I wrote before 2010 with extreme caution. And, even then, it’s not until 2014 that we get to my works that are still online which I look back at and go, “That? I’m still really proud of.”

It wasn’t until 2015/2016 that I started seeing myself not as someone who wanted to be a writer, but who already was one.

And it wasn’t until I was a decent start into writing my second mega!fic in 2020 that I looked down and realized that I might be writing something really special. Something that I was so proud of that I didn’t care that it was fanfiction, I was willing to talk to random people about it, because I felt so good and confident about what I was writing.

And that’s actually the point I’m trying to make. When people like me say, “Oh yeah, I’ve been writing for twenty-three years,” it’s not a statement of “Lol, I’m better than you, I’ve been at the top of my game forever, you’ll never catch up.” It’s a statement of, “Writing is a cumulative activity. If I’m good now, it’s because I’ve been doing this for a very long time, maybe longer than you’ve been alive. Look at where twenty-three years of work and practice have gotten me. And, much more importantly... think about where you are right now, and where twenty-three years of work, practice, and life experience will get you.”

Because there are a lot of young writers who I would absolutely consider my equals, don’t think I don’t see you there on AO3 and other places! And that’s what I always wonder when I think of how old you are compared to how old I am. Many of you are so much farther along the path of honing your skills than I was at your age... how much farther along will you be when you’re my age? Keep working at it and you’ll only get better, gain more polish, shine brighter. So many of you are already gems, and it’s my very dear hope that I’ll get to watch you become stars.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Okay, the person who sent the vampire ask awakened something in me, because all my faves from HOTD fit at least one trope of vampire romance/erotica.

We've already established pretty boy Aegon (as usual, love that for him).

I totally agree that Aemond fits in the vampire role (I mean, look at his aesthetic. Boy's right at home there), where he's smitten with a human and refuses to acknowledge that he was basically stalking them at the beginning, until said human calls him out and shows no fear of him, they're just pissed off. And that does it, he's down even worse than he already was.

I feel Daemon and Rhaenyra would also fit vampire roles, with Daemon being the one who turned Rhaenyra, and she took to being a vampire like a fish to water. I think they'd be the type that has several "partners" they feed from, on a somewhat regular basis, but they also enjoy "hunting" every now and again, Daemon especially. They don't kill anyone, but they do enjoy the fear they can feel from the person they're feeding from.

Then One human shows up that seems immune to both Daemon's charms, and threaths, and Rhaenyra is living for it, she's having the time of her life watching him being flustered. And that's how they end up with a regular partner, not just in the feeding sense.

And of course, our boy Jace. I just feel like he would be such a good fit for an ingenue kinda trope? Noble birth, slightly sheltered, intelligent as hell, maybe too curious for his own good. He stumbles upon a vampire feeding on someone, nearly killing them, and ends up conflicted when he finds out the person was a reprehensible sort of criminal (like, heavy shit, type of criminal). And he keeps seeking the vampire out, even after being turned away because he's a stranger at that point, they don't trust him.

But he's relentless, and gets himself into trouble, and the vampire saves him, and he's head over heels for them.

TRULY INCREDIBLE THOUGHTS HERE OH MY GOD?? Anon I love you.

I'm gonna write a little bit about each of these ideas and then we can go from there! All ideas in this AU will be tagged with 'supranational!au' so block that if you don't want to see this or search it to see everything thus far :))

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

AEGON:

Okay I know this anon didnt even mention much about him but I must briefly discuss pretty boy Aegon!!! Pretty boy Aegon who just absolutely ADORES the vampire who fucked his brains out that one time and now he's obsessed.

Everyone else thinks you're absolutely terrifying, and for good reason, but does Aegon care? No absolutely not. In fact, he gets rid of his personal kings guard and just has you instead. The kings guard can patrol the keep and stand watch outside his quarters but none of them even get close to him anymore because he's got a vampire behind him at all times.

And just one more quick thing about Aegon: originally you don't intend to only drink from Aegon because you don't want to put that much pressure on him and risk harming him. Aegon, however, is very possessive and will be very unhappy if you feed from another.

AEMOND:

Absolutely love the idea that Aemond essentially stalked someone for a solid two weeks without even knowing. Even better if you actually knew he was following you. He's not exactly subtle about it, especially because if he's standing behind you then anyone in front of you will look utterly terrified.

The way that you interact with him without fear just gets him completely hooked and yeah you just have a vampire following you around now.

Also, I kinda love the idea that Aemond actually doesn't seem capable of being the same level dangerous and skilled when he's around you? It's like he gets your scent or your attention or lord help him your blood and he just... brain off. No more Aemond.

DAEMON AND RHAENYRA:

Okay I LOVE this idea and I can't believe I never considered this concept with them. I definitely agree Daemon would have changed Rhaenya and then hunt together regularly. They're absolutely a couple that would love to fuck whoever they're feeding from at the same time.

I think Rhaenyra would be interested in you first. She'd sport you and have a conversation with you and discover that he really likes talking to you (and complaining about every single member of her small council because of course). You only meet Daemon about a week later, maybe when Rhaenyra invites you to dinner with them. Of course she had told Daemon all about you, and Daemon was certainly excited thinking they'd get a good feed and bed partner out of this.

To Daemon's dismay and Rhaenyra's delight, you don't even react to any of Daemon's attempts at flirting and seduction. You just listen to him and smile, but don't seem flustered at all.

Originally Rhaenyra had hoped to bed you with Daemon that night, but now that she's watching how worked up Daemon is becoming and how good you are at handling him? Well she's more than happy to have a front row seat to your interactions with Daemon.

For the next 3 weeks Daemon is adamant that they will never bring you into their bed, not for sex or for a feed or for both. Rhaenyra just nods and smiles to herself becasue she knows with absolute certainty that you absolutely will end up in bed with them. If Daemon truly didnt want to fuck you then he wouldnt still be talking about you weeks later.

The very first sexual thing to happen is you and Rhaenyra fucking while Daemon can only watch. He had finally made one too many ridiculous comments and so you put him in his place.

And so, Rhaenyra gets to sleep with you and drink from you while all her husband may do is watched. Eventually when you're satisfied with Daemon's punishment, you allow him to come join you two in bed. He ends up drinking from you while Rhaenyra strokes him.

The last thing he says before he falls asleep is to mumble, "We are never letting you out of this bed"

JACAERYS:

Absolutely love the thought of Jace just sort of stumping into a vampire. Maybe he was in a dodgy part of town? Like maybe he had been dragged out by Aegon but then Aegon abandoned him and now he has no idea where he is. It's while he's wandering around trying to find his way that he finds you.

You're feeding when he sees you, and as much as you want to just ignore him, he's far too pretty and far too scared for that. I think he'd run away at first, and you cant figure out why you did this, but you run after him. And it's damn good that you did becasue you find him being cornered by some people who clearly want to mug him.

Needless to say none of them made it to first light. Once they've all been dealt with, you look at Jace and he is just in awe. You escort him back to the red keep and think that's that.

Except no of course it's not Jace is desperate to find you again, and so maybe... maybe he goes back to that very dodgy area, just wandering around on his own and trying to spot you.

[csuitebitches]

Going From a Fixed Mindset to a Growth Mindset

Lesson #1: growth is not linear. You will not improve drastically overnight. As I’ve stressed this before, things take time and consistency and concentration.

A fixed mindset is basically a belief that the person you’re born as - your intelligence and talent - are fixed. They cannot be changed, no matter what.

Science has shown that this is not true. It’s 100% possible to get smarter over time and with dedicated effort.

This is what a growth mindset is - believing that you can be better over time, and that your current level of intelligence and talent is temporary.

People with fixed mindsets are insecure, and it shows. Fear of failure; taking constructive criticism to heart; feelings of jealousy when someone they know is doing well… we’ve all known a person like this, and been this person ourselves at some point in our life.

Growth mindset is therefore the opposite but the effects are as grounding; it can help battling anxiety, depression, burnout issues, behavioural issues and so on.

I understand that a lot of you don’t have people in your life with a similar mentality of personal growth. I’m therefore reopening my Discord. My followers can meet, connect and help each other out.

Now, how does one transition from a fixed to a growth mindset?

Here are some things I think could help:

1. Detaching yourself from the definition of failure

If you’ve already decided the outcome of a certain situation without even trying, then you’re still stuck in a fixed mindset. Things like “there’s no point in me applying for that job because I don’t have the skills and I won’t get it anyway” - applying for that job wouldn’t hurt, even if you don’t get it. Stop limiting your opportunities that you never know could actually work out. A growth mindset person will always try to make most of the opportunities they have.

2. Not getting attached to any outcomes

Don’t get attached to favourable or unfavourable outcomes. When something goes well, have gratitude in your heart but don’t let it get to your ego. Life is about constantly learning. Don’t get attached to compliments and don’t get disheartened by criticism.

3. Actively working on yourself

You can learn a language at any age. You can start learning how to dance or sing or ride a horse at any age, if you’re doing it for the pleasure of learning (getting into competitive stages could be challenging if you’re not young). Someone who works on themselves has a growth mindset.

4. Stop self depreciating yourself

If I see one more IG bio that says “I’m so boring uwu” I will literally throw hands. Stop talking shit about yourself. Classic fixed mindset case. It’s childish and people pleasing behaviour.

5. Stop the comparison game

Stop resenting the people around for the good work they do in their life/ if their life is easy. We all have our challenges, whether we show them publicly or not. The more you work on your inner peace and inner self, the less you’ll feel the need to compare yourself to someone else. Jealousy is a disease and a sign of a fixed mindset.

6. Appreciate and thank yourself for being you.

If you’re nice to your mum, siblings, friends when they need your support… you can be nice to yourself too. Growth mindset does not come from berating yourself.

7. Recognise mistakes and take accountability

Admitting that you’re wrong is never easy. However, I’ll always have respect for someone who can admit that they messed up, rather than someone who will make up stories to justify their antics.

8. Provide yourself with at least 3 productive self-care hours a week

Self care here doesn’t mean skin care or hair care. I mean brain care. You feed your brain good things that it needs to stay calm and ever-growing.

These could include: brain games, mediation, a hobby, watching an educational documentary, doing a short online course, reading… anything that’s good for your brain.

9. Stop being a chameleon

Have you ever met those sort of people who will do anything to fit in? It could adopting that group’s mannerisms, thought processes, opinions… now, to an extent, that is normal and subtle. However, when it starts going too far to a point where you can’t be yourself anymore, thats a problem. In my opinion, that’s an example of not being able to practice your growth mindset publicly.

Privately, you may be growth oriented - but it needs to reflect in your words and actions. If you’re holding yourself back in doing certain things because you’re afraid of what other friends will think of you, you need better friends. Embrace people who have a growth mentality.

10. Using social media for better purposes

I made a separate Instagram account where I only follow educational stuff - think history, geography, arts and architecture, science, tech, business - and absolutely no people. It’s my way of using social media to ensure I learn more. Social media may be the devil, but you can be smart and alter it to your purposes, to give you that kick that you need to educate yourself.

[svnnyd4ys]

the seven + nico incorrect quotes lol

Piper: She's the girl of my dreams! Annabeth: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams. Piper: I have a lot of dreams.

!!!

Leo: *watching their house burn down* Leo: Leo: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

!!!

Jason, looking at a selfie of Leo’s: I hate this photo. Leo: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. Jason: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. Leo: Up to kindness.

!!!

Hazel: Nico, how do you feel about lifting heavy things? Nico: My doctor just said I should avoid— Hazel: Being a wuss? I agree.

!!!

*During a game of Hangman* Piper: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Leo: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Piper: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

!!!

Jason: Are you guys bringing anything to the party? Nico: Yeah, an empty stomach. Annabeth: My sparkling personality. Percy: A flagrant disregard for common decency. Hazel: ... Hazel: Chips.

!!!

Piper, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Jason: Other side, Piper...

!!!

Percy: You know, Leo, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Leo: ... Leo: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

!!!

Annabeth: What time is it? Piper: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Piper: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Nico: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Piper: It’s 2 in the morning.

!!!

Leo: You’re overthinking this. Hazel: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Leo. What if I’m underthinking?

!!!

Frank: I am an expert at identifying birds. Percy: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Frank: Yeah, they're all birds.

!!!

Percy: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Jason: Where did you get that? Percy: My pocket. Jason: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Percy: Skills.

!!!

Frank: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

!!!

Frank: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Jason: Is that… bad? Frank: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Jason: Isn’t that just causality? Frank: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Jason: So what are my odds? Frank: Do you have a family history? Jason: Of what? Frank: Just, in general. Jason: …Yes? Frank: Oh no.

!!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* Leo, Frank, and Jason: *spinning a little and talking* Nico, Annabeth, and Hazel: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

!!!

Percy: My dad drowned at sea when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. Percy: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

(pre discovering yk his half God-ness)

!!!

Annabeth: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

!!!

Nico: This is a safety pin. *cuts off end* Nico: It is now a danger pin.

!!!

Jason: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Jason: Me too!

!!!

Piper, explaining why they are not allowed to cook: I put the noodles in the pot and put the pot on the stove and turned the burner on high. Turns out you don't put noodles in marijuana and I almost burnt the whole house down.

!!!

Hazel: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Hazel: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

!!!

[gatheringbones]

[“Turns out that being a lesbian outside of the privacy of your own home was quite hard. I’m not talking about the various manifestations of homophobia—oh, that old thing. I’m talking about scoring. Picking up chicks. (As it turns out, I would come to prefer the type of woman few would recognize as female, the type who would cheerfully deck you if you called her a chick, but might, if I were lucky, see me as such: a chick, a babe, a femme fox.)

In the oeuvre of Mr. Spillane, being a lesbian seemed so easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. In my favorite lesbian novels, No Blonde is an Island and My Gun is Quick, all a gal had to do was brush up against another woman by the water cooler and, watch out, the sapphic sparks would surely fly. Lesbianism was something any woman could do, no special equipment, messy creams or liquids were required.

But when I walked into my first dyke bar in New York City, I had a rude awakening. It was like transferring to a new high school. No, it was worse than that. A new junior high school. You walk into the class on the first day and everyone turns to stare. Your clothes, your hair, the way you move, it’s all wrong. You have to change everything or die a horrible and lingering death.

I guess the moral of this story is that there are some pursuits, such as lesbianism, that one can’t learn from a book, no matter the author. A more crass sort might make some tasteless jokes at this juncture about “boning up” on lesbianism, or about “hands-on experience,” but the reader can be assured this dyke will not sink to that level.

I watched the other women dancing, talking, flirting. All transactions were conducted in a lingo as incomprehensible to me as straight guy sports speak. My late-seventies disco fever look was out of place here. Everyone looked like they’d raided the closet of their bigger, older brother while he was out repairing refrigerators.

I was the only one wearing makeup.

Someone approached me: “This is a gay bar.” I shriveled up and a gust of wind blew me out into the street.

I had no skills. No lesbian skills. I was stared at, rather than cruised, at the bars. I couldn’t find a way of singnaling to another dyke that I was open for business, a friend of Dorothy, in the life, on the bus. Let alone desperately horny.

Somehow I managed a few invites to lesbian parties. I’d figured out that wearing lipstick was wrong, but I was still doing it. I’m such a congenital WASP that my lips disappear without makeup; I couldn’t imagine having sex without lipstick. I had tried to pull a lesbian look together: oversized second-hand men’s clothes, an unbuttoned black vest, but Annie Hall does not work on someone five feet tall.

Nor could I play softball. When something is thrown at me, even if it is specifically designed for that purpose, I automatically duck. All I had going for me in the lesbian skill department was ownership of a cat. Enough to break the ice, but not cinch the deal.

Certainly I couldn’t just come out and ask some other dyke to show me the ropes, so to speak. The seventies were still going on even though it was now the eighties. Feminism and lesbianism had kind of merged, become one big multinational entity with Andrea Dworkin as CEO. You had to be sneaky to get laid.

Yikes. It had been so easy with men. All you had to do was bend over at the bowling alley and something would happen.

After two years, the drought ended. I saw a sign that advertised: “Double-X-Rated Christmas Party for Women.” The party was held in the basement of a Catholic church. Perhaps the priests had passed out upstairs and had no idea what was going on. Or perhaps the priests were the drag queens working the bar. Nevertheless, I was there as soon as the doors opened. And the doors were not the only thing that opened.

I walked into the basement where the party was taking place and saw rows of thrift store tuxedoes, second-hand prom dresses. The doorperson made it clear that these outfits could be borrowed for the evening. After they checked their coats, many party-goers were borrowing outfits from the racks and disappearing into the bathroom to amend their attire. As the evening went on, I noticed more and more women trading in their flannel and denim for sharkskin and taffeta.

At this, my first encounter with the women who produced the WOW Festival and would later open the WOW Cafe in a tiny linguini-shaped storefront on East Eleventh Street, I fell in love. In love with all of the women, with their outrageousness, their unruly desire. I wanted desperately to be a part of whatever it was they were doing…if the WOW Cafe had been a support group for lesbian skeet shooters, that’s what I’d be doing now.

Instead, I found theater, or it found me. And the theater, it seemed, offered a wonderful solution to my involuntary celibacy: the casting couch. In theater you are encouraged to have sex with as many people as possible; it’s an integral part of the process. At least at WOW it seemed like the shows were almost an afterthought to the flirting, a byproduct of the endless parties where women of every imaginable gender rubbed up against each other.

This last paragraph reads like a natural cue to cross-fade to the Story of the First Girlfriend, doesn’t it? At this point, I should see a stranger across a crowded room, our eyes should lock, and the violins should swell like wieners on the grill. But this scene isn’t part of my coming-out story. Who even remembers my first girlfriend? Not me. I remember lots of bodies, I remember rooms lit by lots of small lights, and above all else, I remember lots and lots of Rolling Rock. This movie doesn’t end with a soft-focus closeup on two women kissing; this is a coming-out story that crescendos into a crowd scene. It’s a wide-angle shot. The climax of my coming-out scenario isn’t a closeup on a lesbian couple but a panorama of a lesbian world.”]

holly hughes, from what comes first, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[maximumzombiecreator]

Heya, you made a post recently about players getting the wrong expectations from AP podcasts for their own performance and experiences in D&D. The way you described it was almost exactly like something I recently saw at the table, complete with the getting into their own head and thrown off from unexpected interactions and then frustrated. Do you have any advice on how to deprogram, so to say, someone from this mind set and help them enjoy their time with the game more? Apologies if this is something you already wrote about and I just missed it

I ended up writing like 1500 words on this so let me put it under the cut.

So, there are a couple different approaches to this that I think work. The first, if they're willing to play a different RPG, is to play something with a different "play posture." That is, rather than playing a game where the players have a single PC over whom they have agency and nothing else, play a game that is more collaborative or where a player is expected to control multiple characters. For instance, I like introducing players like this to Blades in the Dark, where I'll have every player make two characters in the crew to begin with, and the core mechanic of flashbacks encourages players to take a greater amount of narrative control. I find this pushes them far enough outside their expectations that they're forced to take it on its own merits, and this helps them develop a more at-the-table style of play. Then when they take that back to more trad-style games, they can use the skills they developed and find a greater comfort level.

That said, playing another, stranger game after getting frustrated at their first game is a lot to ask of someone, so it's not at all something I'd take for granted.

In terms of helping at the table, the first thing is to recognize when it's happening. I tend to ask new players to my table what TTRPG experience they have, and one very big reason is that if someone is coming mainly from actual plays, I know to watch out for this.

What I try to do when this happens is pull back the abstraction level and talk about what's happening in a "discussing the characters" way. In particular, what I am most looking to avoid is making the player feel embarassed. That can make them defensive and blame others, or it can make them spiral and want to quit, it's a terrible feeling. So, for some specific examples of things I'll notice and ways to respond:

If the player is freezing - I'll pause the active roleplay, briefly summarize the current situation, and ask how their character is feeling. "So, Alice sort of came into this conversation expecting to bond with Bob, and got a lot of, I think, unexpected hostility back. What's Alice feeling in that moment?" By describing the situation, I am helping to clarify to all players what the current scene looks like. Maybe Bob's player doesn't realize that he's responding to a friendly overture by being a huge dick. Alice's player might be freezing because she came into this with a scene idea that isn't happening, but by making clear what the current scene is and asking her feelings, I'm giving her a chance to make a character choice even if she doesn't instinctively know how to turn that into a productive scene. Even if she decides Alice is feeling like "I want out of this conversation" I can then frame that as creating a tension between these two characters going forward. My goal is, basically, to frame this as a successful scene, just not the one Alice's player planned. To be clear that she didn't fail at making a roleplay scene, she succeeded, it just wasn't the scene she expected.

If the player is getting frustrated - I'll usually try to tweak their out of character frustration into in character frustration. Pulling back to discuss the scene again, I'll say something like, "So, Charlie is really stonewalling Alice here, not giving her any information, and it seems like Alice is getting frustrated by that. What does that look like, what does she do?" Again, describing the situation sets a ground level clarification for all players, but it also lets Alice's player save face. She's not getting frustrated, her character is, and that's good drama! It also gives me the chance to cut the scene short if it's not going to be productive. I can turn to Charlie's player and say, "So, seeing Alice react that way, does Charlie respond any differently, or is he gonna keep stonewalling her?" And if the answer is the latter, I can tie a neat little bow on the scene and move on. Once again, I'll frame this as a successful scene, as establishing a future drama.

If the player is shutting down - I'll look to give them an outlet for their desire to play their character, but ideally one that they don't expect. Come to them proactively with a roleplay scene that they can respond to. If I'm playing with players I know well, I'll usually have one or two I know can be prompted to be an accomplice in this. In a moment of downtime, I'll ask Alice's player what Alice is doing, and then prompt the other player. "Dan, you notice Alice getting pretty deep into her cups, she seems troubled, what do you do?" I may need to nudge Alice's player a few times in this scene, if she's really shutting down, but I find for these players asking the one-two combo of "What are they feeling?" and "What does that look like?" gives enough to keep things moving. If I don't have an accomplice I can trust in the party, I'll try to do the same with an NPC. In this case, I do feel I need to keep things shorter, but it's vital to keep the player from detaching entirely because things aren't going how they'd like. If I'm doing it with an NPC, I'll try to create a specific unusual context to give the player something to respond to. It won't be an NPC coming to them to ask, "hey buddy how ya feelin'?" it'll be the barkeep asking for a hand moving some huge kegs, or a travelling scholar asking for directions, and sharing some philosophical musings, or whatever. I'm looking to pitch them a softball, but one they haven't already formed an opinion on. I'm trying to get them used to roleplay as listening and responding.

If the player is doing alright, but demotivated by things not going how they want - I'll try to catch this at the end of the session with a bit of retrospective. I'll call out a scene they were in that didn't go how they wanted, praise some specific aspect of what each character did in the scene, and ask how they felt about it, and what they think their characters will do going forward. "That scene where Alice went to try and talk to Eve about the heist plans, I love how Alice is watching the other characters and picking up on their skills. Eve's response was kind of unhinged but in a really interesting way, I feel like it comes through that she's a bit unstable. How were each of your characters feeling about that interaction? Do you think they'll approach each other differently after that?" I want to place attention and importance on scenes that might feel like treading water, and to make them into narrative fodder that the player is going to reflect on, rather than dismissing as being bad or wrong.

All these also apply if it's a scene with an NPC they're having issues with, except that I am usually more malleable to adjust my reactions if I feel it's appropriate, or to clarify where the NPC is coming from if I think the NPC's reaction shouldn't change. Overall, I'm really trying to coax my Alice into a place of understanding that scenes that don't go they way she wants are still great, honestly even better, because the chaos and variety of play, the unexpected responses, are what make TTRPG storytelling good. I want her to feel like she didn't play wrong because things didn't go like she wanted, and neither did the other players, and to teach her to respond and react to the unexpected.

All of this, of course, comes with the caveat that this is what works if the player is otherwise fine, but a bit actual play-brained. A fairly frequent comorbidity, however, is the player with main character syndrome, whose frustration comes in part from everything not warping around them and the other players not being wowed by their cool, badass character. When this happens, I have less success deprogramming people (and honestly, less energy to commit to managing their play experience), but it's still possible. The biggest thing I'd add, in this case, is that I will really try to frame my prompts in such a way as to encourage Main Character Alice to appreciate the other characters more. Rather than just asking her how Alice is feeling, I'll specifically ask about how Alice is perceiving and responding to the other characters, and make her spotlight more dependent on reacting to other PCs. This can go badly, if she reacts to other PCs by belittling them or otherwise sucking, but once that happens it becomes a "talk about it out of play" issue entirely and I don't think there's any point addressing in game.