#like about *cancelling* emojis because they offended you

[angelsonthesideline]

💋🙈 are both in my frequently used and pretty much live there

[milksnake-tea]

IM HAPPY THAT YOU LIKE MERMAIDS, no because Asian mermaids in ancient murals are so underrated. They usually have fancy jewelry and stuff.

YES, you're right about reader splashing him with the tail. Also I can see reader ranting about Imbibitor Lunae when she's mad at him underwater so there's notorious gurgling sounds from the water with tons of bubbles on top. Angry mermaid noises >:(

BUT imagine Imbibitor Lunae arguing with reader (who's underwater) in front of the high cloud quintet but all they see is a dragon arguing with gurgling water 😭

-🧠

(on pc rn so i cant emoji and it is drastically affecting my mood :( )

okay this is embarrassing as an asian person but im american so i think that cancels it out BUT I HAVENT SEE ASIAN MERMAIDS BEFOREEE kinda want to now they sound GRGRGRGRGRRR

NAUR THE GURGLING... ID BE SO EMBARRASSED

no itd be interesting if mermaid reader talked in like hisses and growls when shes cursing IL out because thats the mother tongue of mermaids, so dan feng just hears "GRRRR" and he lets out the most offended gasp ever

tbh if i was one of the high cloud quintet id just tell the vidyadhara that i think their high elders kinda kooky if ykw i mean

[songmingisthighs]

Blog Rules + FAQ

I've been wanting to make this for a while because I feel like some of you don't have manners (I'm talking about you anons 1-8) and it's hurting those who I'm trying to accommodate (and me ??? bc y'all annoying as fuck, go suck a cactus)

this list will be updated as i go so please refer to this post if you ever want to know something regarding this blog

I don't have many rules bc honestly, this blog is both a joke and a safe space. but the most important rules that I implement are :

the anonymous function is there to accommodate those who want to interact but don't want to reveal themselves or don't have their own account so they borrowed someone else's account and just do not want to out themselves. so, if you have any complaints, comments, critiques, writing suggestions or even straight up hate comments, do it to me off anon or else that's you giving me your consent to absolutely obliterate the fuck out of you and I'm not even kidding when i say i can be SO MEAN when i want to be

that being said, if you do have genuine questions or confusion or even want me to elaborate on some things, do consider the words you use and their connotations. there's a difference between "i don't think this makes sense" and "i don't quite understand this, what does this part means?" or "you're offensive" and "i feel like the word you use is rather insensitive" and I would GLADLY make a 2 page essay to explain my thought process because i know that sometimes the things i say can rub some people the wrong way even though i don't mean it. but for the sake of the shit i wrote like to imitate real conversations between characters esp in terms of like how close and comfortable they are with each other (the kind of relationship hey have), I'm risking myself offending some of you but that's why i am beyond willing to explain myself if y'all ask bc let's be honest, i can't post an explanation after EVERY post when no one is complaining.

tone indicators (/j, /hj, /gen, /affectionate) are never wrong esp if you and i haven't established a relationship bc there are some anons and some blogs that i interact with a lot and we are aware of our relationship alr

keep in mind that these rules exist to protect myself and the anons who genuinely do want to interact with my blog as anons. if you break any of my rules or if you cross me in any sort of way, i have god, an emoji creature that creeps the fuck out of everyone i know, and the fact that I'm a virgo with nothing to lose on my side, so you WILL get wrecked one way or another.

that being said, here are some of the FAQs i got.

q. do you do requests?

a. no, i'm not taking requests. between my series and the recurring ideas that randomly pops up in my head, i don't have the time and energy and frankly i don't want to disappoint. BUT !! if someone sends me an unsolicited request and it ended up inspiring me, i might do it but i'm not promising anything

q. do you only write for ateez?

a. rn yes, but it seems like I'm gonna start writing for xikers ??? and even though most of their members have reached legal age, i am currently not comfortable writing mature/rated stuff for them yet. rn I'm even still incorporating them into my ateez fics as to familiarize myself and i even have this baby!xikers and dad!ateez au thing i made with my friend so for now, that's the best i can provide

q. do you write yandere or darker themes?

a. it depends. i'm still struggling to label certain stuff ??? like i'm still familiarizing myself to the concept of CNC and kinkier stuffs and I'm still expanding my knowledge. that being said, i draw the line on the sexualization of : rape, incest, drugging, bestiality, (and more to be added bc ngl i can't think of anything else rn so I'll get back to you on that)

q. are minors allowed to interacy with your blog ?

a. absolutely, anyone is welcomed. but for the sake of safety and me not being cancelled, if you are a minor, please do not react with my mature stuff or the mature stuff i reblog. I'm putting a lot of trust in yiu guys so please DO NOT betray my trust

q. what apps do you use for your smau ?

a. i use Twinote and Fake Chat which are on android (google play) but idk if it's available on apple store

[diaryofanormalkid]

Lol my black history month’s going great 👌🏿😁

I just remembered some weird convo I had at work with a client. He goes “I’m so sorry if this is a stupid question—” pause, because I already know once you say that, it’s going to be stupid.

“—but, why are your knuckles so much darker than your hands?” 🤦🏿‍♀️ he REALLY got me there. If the emoji didn’t give it away, well by now I should let you know I’m a dark-skinned black girl.

So imagine my immediate embarrassment, discomfort and overall awkward reaction to this indeed stupid question. I actually looked down at my hand to see what he was talking about.

I promise you I stared at my hand for 10 seconds before collecting my answer because I didn’t even notice until he said that. I go, “you know what, I don’t know…” bc HOW THE HECK DO YOU ASK THAT?

I didn’t create myself sir?!! How am I supposed to conclude how my knuckles are darker than my hands. Then I wondered… isn’t everybody’s’? I continue with “I didn’t notice until you said that.”

Lol I was so shook that he had the audacity to ask that bc he wasn’t even a little bit worried that he could somewhat offend me, get called out, cancelled, looked at funny… nothing.

He had all the support he needed to ask that peacefully without getting hate bc everyone around him… looks like him. Not me. There’s only one other POC where I work, and he’s not black.

It was definitely a new low from the all sorts of questions I’ve been asked so far. As for black history month, the other POC and I haven’t had any mention of it at all this month.

I hardly think they care to consider any acknowledgement of the month at all. I wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps I’ll hear a mention of it later in the month. However, it’s already halfway over.

I guess I’ll also point out that technically, more like literally, the other POC is African. His nationality is Moroccan. But I still think he’s considered Arab since that’s North Africa.

Tbh idk enough about him to know how he identifies. Plus he looks entirely Arabic to me, so I wouldn’t put it past him. Nonetheless, I sometimes feel like ppl test my patience too often.

It’s sometimes isolating having no confidant who gets what I experience or I can look to or talk with at times so they can understand my feelings. I don’t relate to a lot of the ppl I work with.

And that’s okay. For many reasons, I never would anyways. A lot of them are in different life stages than I am, or speak multiple languages, or own very nice things and have a family etc.

Do different things outside of work, believe different religions, drink, smoke weed, etc. so it’s hard to find a common ground with anyone, except for really simple things like food/clothes.

It pains me sometimes to be on such surface level convos when I’ve been here long enough to be past those things. It just feels like I’ll never get to a point where I’m comfortable with the full group.

And I have my days where it’s better, but I just hate being in the moment when i feel like I’m on the outside looking in. I’m not included and they don’t even try to relate to me or make convo.

You know when they walk past you just to start a convo with someone to the left or right of me. Or they speak in their language and forget i can’t comprehend or contribute.

Or when they always seem to not mention if they make outside plans with each other but leave me out bc we don’t have rapport like that. I tell myself I’m fine with it since I’m introverted anyways.

In a lot of ways, I genuinely don’t mind not being invited out because at least I don’t have to decline with a lame excuse and can remain in the comfort of my own home with my own company.

I can catch up on sleep, or shows, cook, or do laundry, or eat in silence. Do whatever I want. And not have to feel like I’m wasting my time by forcing myself to go somewhere “to socialize.”

I don’t have to be uncomfortable trying to fit in or act engaged in the conversation, or pretend like I can relate to anything they just said or even understand when they switch languages.

I can be myself and not have to mask like I do at work when I fake laugh at a really unfunny joke, or act super extroverted and social just to not seem like a party pooper or Debby downer.

Or force my smile in front of clients and coworkers so they don’t realize I’m having a really off day. I can wear my relaxing clothes, eat as many snacks as I want, sing as loud as I feel.

And sleep as late as I want. Or as early. But there’s always that feeling like I’m missing out on so much. The fomo. Just wanting to be invited. Included. Thought about. Considered. Something.

It’s so unfulfilling working at a place where you get little to no joy out of it bc not even the ppl can give you some peace of mind that at least if the job sucks, you have someone.

FYI. I don’t smoke.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

If DCLA characters had Tumblr part 12 🕺🏼

🌼 punk-not-dead Follow

I’m gonna sound insane but I do want kids but I don’t want a partner.

Like… sure, someone to get steamy with occasionally would be nice, but when I picture myself as a mom I want no one else involved (except for friends and family helping out ofc). I wanna raise my child my way. I’m too bossy to have someone co-parent.

💍 queenoftherink Follow

You sound like my adoptive mother but in a good way.

When I think about it you don’t really sound like my adoptive mother because she’s just repulsed by other people’s existence, and I think that’s why she raised me alone. No family or friends helping out. She also refused to let me close to anyone else as she wanted to have full control over me. But she also shut me off and didn’t want me to know stuff in her life, and then demanded to be involved in mine??

Sorry this turned into a rant. Didn’t mean to. Anyway you are NOTHING like her and I am sure you’re gonna be a great single mother one day.

9 notes

🎨 biamakesart Follow

I’ve gotten asks if I’ve ever thought about putting my art up in an exhibition ☺️ Yes! That would be a lot of fun! My art style is often more cartoony, but I have been thinking of doing more paintings on canvases. Maybe one day I’ll become a professional artist, maybe they’ll put up my paintings in a museum! 🤭

Ok, I’m dreaming big 😉 I’m just happy if one person likes my sketches I make in my notebook 🩷

I hope everyone has a wonderful day! Remember to be yourself! 🌈

🧢 everythingscominguponmaxi Follow

I just wanna say that I see so much unhinged and crazy stuff scrolling through my dashboard, and then comes you with your sweet posts. Filled with calmness and love.

I hope you become a big artist one day and I’ll brag to everyone that I knew you when you were just a little blog on Tumblr

200 notes

💍 queenoftherink Follow

People are discussing if Regina George is a lesbian or not.

I think she is just high. She cares about no one because she is very high. Kissing people doesn’t feel like much because in her mind they’re probably dancing fruits.

Haha. Maybe Regina has a weird worldview like Cady had. But instead of everyone like animals it’s everyone as fruits or maybe ants. Or furniture. Talking furniture…

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl Follow

Were you high when you wrote this

💍 queenoftherink Follow

Yes.

69 notes

👨‍🍳 kunsts-best-chef Follow

It is so funny to randomly mention to people that I’m a lawyer student.

Anyway, today we’re making carbonara on my youtube channel! Uploading in 2 hours!

8 notes

🧢 everythingscominguponmaxi Follow

Sometimes I think about my childhood and realize… there were some CLEAR signs.

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi Follow

Yeah…

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon Follow

Yeah…

🍓 chico-fresa Follow

I’m so confused, what is this about?

#Are you three even talking about the same thing??

899 notes

💅🏼 ja-jazmin Follow

Do you guys think I would be a good mom? 😘

✌🏼 arodarmivida Follow

Yes!! Omg

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi Follow

Yes but you would probably be one of those moms who start a family youtube channel and record everything your kids do, until one day it gets out of hand you get cancelled and your children sue you.

But that is only if you start a family youtube channel😁 Otherwise I’d think you do a splendid job

�� fab-and-chic-delfi Follow

Yam’s brutal honesty scares me.

13 notes

🎸 beanie-guitarist Follow

Is she high or just like this? A new song I wrote the other day and thinking of performing later. It’s based on real events.

😎 rapmiro Follow

Idk man Luna can be a little quirky but I don’t like to think she is ever high on anything

🎸 beanie-guitarist Follow

Who says this song is about Luna?

😎 rapmiro Follow

I thought every song you wrote is about Luna?? I thought that was your thing or whatever

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon Follow

🤣🤣

😎 rapmiro Follow

Why are you reblogging with laughter emojis? Aren’t you offended this song is not about you?

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon Follow

😂😂

😎 rapmiro Follow

Maybe you are high.

16 notes

✌🏼 arodarmivida Follow

I went to that site where you can listen to music around the world from different decides and anyway, NO ONE put in A rodar mi vida for Argentina in the 90s smh

I could add it there myself but apparently you need to PAY to get an account there…

#i guess the rest of the world will never know the argentinean bangers of the 90s #also I listened to other countries #why does Iceland in the 70s have such bangers #Finland in the 70s too

2 notes

😎 rapmiro Follow

People who think I’m nothing… just you wait… one day the whole world will know the name of Ramiro Balsano

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl Follow

Balsano…

😎 rapmiro Follow

Ponce*

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi Follow

My dude how do you forget your own surname and write someone else we know’s surname

😎 rapmiro Follow

It was a typo

🍓 chico-fresa Follow

Are you trying to take my identity, rapper boy? 😉

😎 rapmiro Follow

No it was a typo

77 notes

🎤 singing-is-who-i-am Follow

You’d think I would be more cultured due to living in so many different countries growing up, but all it got me was like. Kids shows that maybe were good but were dubbed in languages I did not speak and if they aired in other countries they might not have the same names, so no one knows what I am talking about.

Anyway the trouble with this is that I sometimes don't know if anything aired globally or if it was a show exclusively shown in that very country and it's so annoying. I’m going around with vague memories of some french dubbed anime except I don’t even know if it was an anime or if I just saw Totally Spies in french, or if it was none of that at all. Maybe it was not even animated in the first place and I’m just gaslighting myself that it was. Maybe it wasn’t even french but actually german.

55 notes

🌼 punk-not-dead Follow

When I was small I saw a show where a girl got poured water over her by two mean kids, and her immediate response was to bring out her lasso she carried with her, capture one of the kid’s hands and attempt to drag him down from the balcony.

I remember I became so inspired by this I tried to do it myself by asking my childhood rival to stand on the balcony while I tried to catch her hand with a rope.

We had to stop abruptly because her mother thought I was trying to hit her with it like a whip and forced me to go home.

🌟 supernova-number-one Follow

I don’t even remember this, but it makes sense. My mom banned Pippi Longstocking in our house because she thought I was gonna learn to ??? throw kids up in trees with super strenght I guess ??

🌼 punk-not-dead Follow

That is something I also wanted to do and I used to throw my sisters up in trees.

But the lasso girl was another girl, she was blonde and had a pet racoon.

… I guess there’s been a theme with unhinged little girls who perform great revenges on their bullies and question authority and always get in trouble that I’ve always loved and wanted to aspire to.

🎀 italys-biggest-bow-collector Follow

Only Camila will say stuff like ”I used to throw my sisters up in trees” and then not elaborate.

28 notes

🎧 pixiemix Follow

I HATE THIS GAME SO MUCH AAH

💃🏼 daisydances Follow

I encourage you letting out your feelings, but I also saw you throwing your nintendo switch across the room almost making a hole in the wall. Please be careful.

3 notes

[dontfeeltoohot]

Sicktember Day 5 - Great, Now I Have Your Germs All Over Me - Steddie - Streamer AU

Animal Crossing isn’t usually Eddie’s cup of tea. He prefers Dead by Daylight, Outlast, Dying Light. Hell, he’ll even get into some Skyrim or Fallout. But Animal Crossing? It’s not his cup of tea. 

He thinks some of the little guys are fun- Roald’s cute and Fauna reminds him of Chrissy. But he just can’t get into it the way it seems Steve, Robin, and Chrissy all have. Even Nancy, who always surprises him when she agrees to play Friday the 13th, likes it. Traitor. 

Today though, Steve is sick with a hell of a cold, and when he asks if Eddie will play Animal Crossing so he can sit and make commentary, the long haired man can’t say no. The poor guy is pink nosed and bleary eyed, voice congested and raspy, and he knows that Steve just wants to be close, without making Eddie cancel his usual streaming time. 

“You sure you’re up for this killer?” 

“Uhh-huh, just wanna watch you play,” Steve sniffles into the cuff of his sleeve, rubbing his nose. 

“Uhh-huh, just wanna watch you play,” Steve sniffles into the cuff of his sleeve, rubbing his nose. 

Nodding, Eddie starts everything up and Steve uses his phone to put a tweet and Instagram story out that links people to his stream. As people start hopping on, and the chat starts flowing, Eddie pops in his left ear bud, still wanting to be able to hear Steve. 

“Hey guys, switching it up today. Not my usual gaming choice, but Stevie here-” Eddie leans to drop a kiss to his boyfriend's head. “-is feeling pretty shitty today, and he requested this.” 

JanieLyssa27: Awww that’s so sweet! 

CrimsonTide4Eva: Whipped

BackNBlackkk: You guys are so cute #steddie 

Sourpunchloser: I like Munsington 

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “Munsington sounds like a disease.” 

Steve snorts at that, turning to cough away from the mic Eddie has set up. Even the cough alone has a bunch of people commenting on how cute Steve is, or telling him to get better. 

“I stream on my channel and yet everyone just cares about you. I’m offended,” he teases his boyfriend, who’s sniffling. 

“Yeah, well, it’s because I’m cuter,” Steve grins, giving him a scrunched up, innocent face. 

PeachyPear: Steve’s the embodiment of *sad eye emoji*

BoyRobot: get maRRIED ALREADY

Genderman9: Dude why is Eddie playing AC? Have we entered a new dimension? 

“I’m playing because I can do whatever I want,” he shoots back, though it’s playful with no heat behind the words. 

Eddie can hear his boyfriend next to him, fighting off one of the many fits this cold has been bringing him. Even in the small screen in the corner, he can see Steve rubbing at his nose, eyes fluttering. 

“Guys, fair warning, he’s pretty loud,” Eddie says quickly, just as Steve turns. 

“ehHHISHHHEW! EHGKSHHhuh!” 

It takes a second for both men to realize that Steve’s turned towards Eddie, not away, mostly just desperate not to sneeze directly into the mic and burst someone’s eardrums. Scrunching just nose, the older of the two hands Steve a tissue and then narrows his eyes playfully. 

“Great, now I have your germs all over me.” 

“You’ve had them all over you since yesterday. I also recall you telling me you didn’t care if you kissed me because you would rather get my germs than anyone else’s.” 

“Steve! We’re still…Jesus,” Eddie blushes, jerking his head toward the still streaming camera.

“Oh, uh. Sorry. Sorry guys! Forgo-EISHUHEW! h’TSCHHEW!” 

Once again, Eddie’s on the receiving end. 

“Bless you baby.” He presses a hand to Steve’s forehead. 

The chat blows up, mostly people blessing Steve, others speculating at how kinky Eddie might be, and a few just saying that the whole display was gross. 

“I’m kinky, but I don’t know about being sneezed on. I’ll have to think about it, I guess,” Eddie jokes, going back to the game. "If I get sick guys, this is why. Kid has no respect for me."

The long haired man starts roaming around his house, setting a chainsaw onto a table near his little racecar bed.

"Is that a chainsaw in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Steve snuffles thickly, letting out a couple of shallow coughs into his sleeve.

Snorting, Eddie rolls his eyes.

LemonBoy: Damn, Steve coming in hot today

JuliusCeazer: NOICE

purpletotoro: im eight and have a basketball game tomorrow what that mean.

calicrazyf0cker: sneezing can be hot, steve's face right before is sexy af.

Eyes continuously going back and forth from the chat to the game, the twenty six year old then glances at Steve, who's already gearing up for another few sneezes. It is kind of hot, watching him struggle, eyes fluttering as the guy rubs at his overly pink nose. Shifting, he clears his throat.

"Shout out to Jenna," he says to the basketball reference.

"EIHKSHH! HIHeiSHuEW!"

"Bless you," Eddie murmurs, one hand squeezing Steve's knee before going back, working on finding Aurora, so he can give her a flower he found. "Aurora is the best villager, and no, you can't change my mind, she's obviously the most adorable."

Steve sniffles and coughs again, rubbing his face as he leans back into his chair with his mouth parted enough he can breathe. Eddie plays for a solid hour, realizing when a few people start asking, that his boyfriends fallen asleep. Oh he's going to get so much shit for this the next time he streams, the musician thinks, smirking.

"Alright kiddos," Eddie decides after an hour. "As much as I'd love to continue, I think the prince here needs to actually lay down so he doesn't hurt his neck. I might be back on later, but for now, Auf Wiedersehen."

[affableanthropologist]

Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. What do you do?

Okay, I thought. This is new. But I'm left handed. I can manage until I figure this out.

I made my way downstairs, pincer clacking noisily against the railing. My sister looked up as I entered the kitchen. She stared. Orange juice spilled down her new navy blazer.

"That genie I mentioned was real," I said sheepishly.

Clara slammed her mug down onto the table. She sighed dramatically as she adjusted her glasses.

"What did I tell you, Gwen? That's how they get you. People make all kinds of bizarre wishes in dreams."

"Don't lecture me!" I snapped back. I snapped the pincer as well, for emphasis. "What are we going to do about it?" "Uh, this seems like a you problem. I have to get to work. And now, thanks to you, I need to change." "Clarabelle!" I shouted after her. "You are literally a cursebreaker! You break curses for a living! This is literally your job."

"Wishes and curses are not the same thing. And I don't get involved with genie magic anyway!"

She slammed her door behind her and that was that. I sat down on the couch with a thump, burying my head in my hands.

"Ouch!"

I glared accusingly at my new claw. What was I going to do? I had classes all day. I had a date at seven. Marcie was radiant when she smiled. What would she do if she saw me like this? Grimace? Scream? I wanted to make her face light up. I didn't want to make her run away.

I lay on my bed staring at my phone the whole morning and most of the afternoon. Sophia texted me something about a lab class, but I didn't reply. I was determining the perfect thing to say to Marcie. Our last date had been cancelled because I got food poisoning from Clara's dodgy chowder. If I cancelled this one, would she think I didn't like her? This was the third date. That was supposed to mean something! I liked her a lot and I didn't want her thinking I was actively avoiding her.

Really sorry Marcie, I sent at last. I'm so sick. Need to talk to Clara about her cooking.

I thought about including an emoji, but decided against it. As soon as I sent the message I had second thoughts. What if the lack of emoji looked suspicious? Didn't I always use emojis? I was scanning back over our conversation when I heard a knock at the door.

This was the second day Clara had forgotten her key. I had half a mind to leave her there, after what she said that morning.

"This is the last time Clara!" I shouted, stomping down the stairs. "Last. Time. If you hadn't lost the spare key we wouldn't-"

I flung the door open and froze. Marcie- beautiful, brilliant Marcie- was standing on my doorstep holding a thermos flask. She froze. I gasped. She took a step forward. I tried to stop her, but her eyes were already trained on the meaty pincer that had replaced my right arm.

"I uh. Bought you soup," she said. "To help you feel better."

Marcie's hair shone like fire in the sunlight. I distantly wondered what shampoo she was using.

"Marcie!" I gasped.

I ushered her inside and slammed the door, after looking both ways to ensure we would have no further visitors.

Marcie took it surprisingly well. She placed the flask on the little glass coffee table, sat on the sofa beside it, and stared. It wasn't even a terrified stare. If she handled my transformation into a crab monster so well, perhaps there was hope for us after all.

"What happened?" she asked at last. "Did you offend a witch? Did a sea spirit take a liking to you?"

I sighed. "I wish it were so simple. My sister is a cursebreaker. Apparently she can't do anything about genie wishes though." Ah, there we were. Marcie looked disturbed. I fought to recover the situation.

"Tea?" I asked. "I'm not really sick. I can make you some peppermint tea."

"That would be lovely," she said.

I opened the cupboards. "We're out of peppermint. Is jasmine okay?"

"Sure."

The tea wasn't great. We only kept tea so we'd look civilised when we had guests. That jasmine might have been in the cupboard for over a year. Regardless, Marcie sipped it politely and said it was perfect.

"You said a genie granted your wish?" Marcie ventured. "Genies don't do a lot of that these days. How did this happen?"

"If I'm honest, I don't really know. I've been dreaming of this genie for a couple of weeks now. I never remember what I wished for when I wake. I thought she wasn't even real until now."

"Do you remember what she looks like?"

I struggled to recall. "I'm not sure. The colour blue...and a lot of clouds."

"Ugh, that's just like her," Marcie muttered. She violently sipped her tea.

I waited for her to elaborate. A moment passed. Another. Marcie wiped her mouth, adjusted the pleats of her skirt (her long socks went all frilly about the knees), and leaned back to look at me with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"I think you met my mother," she said. "She says she only wants what's best for me, but she really needs to learn some boundaries."

"What? Your mother?" "I keep telling her to stay out of it. I didn't even tell her about you, but she found out somehow. Mothers are good at that. Especially genie mothers." "Your mother is a genie?" I asked, just to be clear.

"My whole family are," Marcie clarified. "We don't go around advertising it, or else everyone would be trapping us in jars and making their three wishes. Mum says it's exhausting granting wishes all the time, and she doesn't want that for me. So she crafted me this human form and sent me off to school. She's always been very protective of me, my mum."

I waved my claw at her. "So why did she give me this giant freaking claw arm?"

Marcie blushed, drumming her foot a little. "I uh. I have always had a thing for water spirits. My ex-boyfriend had a claw arm so I guess she thought that would make you more attractive to me or something? Did you wish that our date would go really well, or wish that you were the most beautiful person in the world to me, or something like that?"

It was my turn to blush. "I don't remember. But it sounds like me."

Marcie leaned her head against my shoulder. "Right. Tonight we're going over to mine, and I'll make her fix this. We'll go over at six. She should be home by then."

I froze. "I'm going to meet your mother?"

She patted my pincer reassuringly. "Mum can be a lot, but dad is the one who insists on making my dates undergo trials to 'win the heart of the fair maiden' or whatever. And he's away on business. You won't have to deal with him for at least two more weeks."

We spent the afternoon sharing our respective family dramas. Apparently Marcie had an uncle Ashar who'd posed as a ghost for the past couple of decades. He'd moved into an urn in a young doctor's house and pretended to be her judgemental grandmother. Ashar was the black sheep of the family. Marcie said that he never quite got over his ex-husband, who took a lot of his magical power in the divorce, before running off with a river guardian of some type or other. I told her about the time my brother's girlfriend left him for our younger brother, and Marcie agreed that was at least as dramatic, even without magic involved.

Clara barely even acknowledged us when she came in a little after five, still tinkering with a curse. She'd finally promised to stop bringing her work home with her after she accidentally bequeathed our souls to a demon last year, but that was an argument we'd save for later. Hopefully this was nothing quite as serious. It had taken months to come to an agreement that pleased both parties. Even now, we still owed that demon a couple of family heirlooms, which was something I really hoped our mother never found out about.

Finally, I put on my best green dress and some bright floral tights, and we went over to Marcie's. She only lived three blocks away, but my heart hammered in my chest so hard that each step felt like an eternity. She held my giant pincer gently in her small fair hand, as she pushed open the door and we entered a room that smelled of garlic, butter and more herbs and spices than I could possibly name.

"Mum! This is Gwen."

The woman who emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a light blue apron, was not what I'd expected. The genies I'd read about crackled with lightning or seethed with flames, and in my dreams this woman specifically had been all storm clouds and blue ribbon. Her apron was blue, but otherwise there was no resemblance between this small round woman rubbing steam from her old-fashioned spectacles, and the spirit I had encountered in my dreams.

"A pleasure to meet you, Gwen," said the genie with a smile. "I'm Lina, Marcie's mother. Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Mum." Marcie held up my pincer, jabbing at it with her free hand. "You have to stop interfering with my love life."

"Me?" Lina poorly feigned surprise. "Why would I do something like that?"

"Because you're always meddling! Mum, this is why Darkblood Grimthrix broke up with me."

"Well if his mothers hadn't tried to poison me at the neighborhood barbecue, I wouldn't have needed to pay them a visit," Lina sniffed.

"Mum. They're from the Shadowgroves! They don't know that we're allergic to iron."

"All I did was flood their dreams with sunlight."

"Mum."

This went back-and-forth for some time. All I could do was stare on in confusion as these small spectacled women argued. Small clouds drifted about their shoulders. The lights flickered on and off. I could have sworn I saw fangs and claws and too many eyes.

"Uh, can I say something?" I asked at length.

The arguing continued.

"Uh, I wish I could say something?" I tried.

The lights stopped flickering. Both women stared straight at me. I cleared my throat.

'Lina, uh, I really like your daughter a lot. She's funny, she's smart, and I hope she wants to keep going on dates with me. But I want her to like me for me. This crab arm is not one I could put gently around her while we watch a movie tonight. This lobster-like shoulder isn't one she could lean her head against. And that's all I really want to do. I think that's what she wants too. So...please can you change me back?"

A moment passed. Lina glanced at Marcie. Marcie frowned at Lina. Lina looked back at me and smiled.

"Because you asked so nicely," she said.

My arm was flesh and blood again. Fighting back tears, I embraced Marcie. As she leaned in I kissed her enthusiastically. I didn't care that Lina was right there: I was myself again and now I could go to a movie with Marcie, and eat popcorn, and hold hands, and look for names we recognised in the credits.

"Thanks mum," Marcie said.

Then dinner was ready. I suddenly realised how starving I was, and grabbed two huge servings and apple pie for dessert. Lina wanted to know all about the curse my sister was working on, and she laughed when I told her about the time I walked in on Clara's selkie boyfriend in the shower. Afterwards she saw us to the gate and waved us goodbye as we set out for the theatre.

"At least I got my wish," I said, squeezing Marcie's hand.

She squeezed mine back. "And what was that?"

"That was my first proper kiss."

She wrapped her shawl around me and leaned in. I realised as I kissed her back that, in spite of waking up with a giant crab pincer for a right arm, this was turning out to be one of the best days of my life.

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

GC Fuckers as Caregivers

(my laptop charger broke so I'm on mobile for a while, I'll be formatting everything later)

Cw// age regression, Little reader

Shinsou

Y'all already know he's your first choice when you're feeling little, you still feel like the others don't feel comfortable around you when you're little (which Shin immediately sends to the other three)

So if you come to his dorm without mentioning sleepy Sunday, he assumes you need little time

He buys you a clip for your pacifier because it honestly breaks his heart to wake up to the sound of you crying cause you're too little to look for it on your own

Y'all still smoke together but when you're little it doesn't take much to make you feel silly, so he usually ends up hogging the blunt while you start on a random rant about your special interest (mouse and mole cartoons and noise cancelling earbuds). You feel safe enough to tell him all your thoughts and questions about them, because he's content listening rather than talking and you're savouring being truly heard in your excitement

Occasionally he'll boop your nose and tell you he loves his curious lil baby very much

Bakugou

Is personally offended by the text he receives because how is him being nervous to fuck up around you in a vulnerable mindset a bad thing?

So he makes sure to watch the closely for the next few days, you always end up needing a break after three or four days

And he tells Shinsou he can handle it when you start sending clappy hand emojis to the chat with enough frequency they can all tell you're in little space

You're adorably wary when Kat opens the door to your dorm room and finds you snuggled into a hoodie he thought he'd lost months ago

"hey squirt. How ya doin? Wanna watch a movie with me?" His heart is beating a mile a minute but he's not tied with Deku for top student for nothing, so he's calm and confident in his movements as he tucks you into his side and puts on the mouse and mole collection he bought to surprise you

It's like he's dealing with a little shy bunny the way you keep looking at him and looking away and looking at him like you're not sure he's serious, and he can see the frown working it's way onto your lips as you start over thinking as usual

He looks around your bed and all the supplies you put on it for you little night in, and finds a pacifier that's a dark purple with a white bow on the front

"open up, baby" and maybe it's the shock at hearing a tone more gentle than you ever have from your blond boyfriend that makes you obey

He puts the pacifier firmly between your lips and kisses your forehead

something about the way the rhythmic soothing action of sucking on your pacifier makes your shoulders finally release the tension they hold, and the way you look at him kinda like.. he could command the stars if your needed him too

He would already kill for you, but God help anyone who upsets his baby when she's a lil baby

"You wanna finish your movie now pumpkin?" And the excited nod of your head mixed with the small but earthshattering feeling of your hand wrapping around his pinky makes him realize there was no reason to be nervous

How could he not be head over heels in love with every part of you?

Is the only person besides Shinsou that you call daddy/dada

Shouto

Happily takes over bed time routines when y'all go on mini vacations together (by which you mean booking a hotel room to have a three day weekend together so the only judging eyes you have to deal with are the check in clerks)

Loves tucking you into bed while Dabi heats up a bottle of sweet milk for you and making up all kinds of stories to tell you in his calm even voice, just to see your eyes widen at the suspense he adds in just to tease you

"that's not actually going to help them relax and sleep you know" Bakugou was part of the tucking in project, Shinsou too because they both called dibs on the queen size bed you were in so they could cuddle you at your most adorable

"they love my stories don't, you bubba" you were going to answer but suddenly there was a bottle in your mouth and a warm hand on your sensitive shaved head

"bedtime pipsqueak" and your eyes were already drooping sleepily

Dabi

After Shinsou he's the worst insomniac in your group (you are a close third)

So it's not unusual to end up with Dabi holding you as you both listen to each other's breaths in the dark, not sleeping but less inclined to follow your darker thoughts down the spiral they always lead you both into

But it is unusual for Dabi to come cuddle when he knows you're little

The text he got from Shinsou made him feel almost sick

Had he unintentionally made you feel like a freak? Like everyone thought he was?

He was going to make it up to you, no matter what

You didn't speak when he entered because your pacifier was already in place and were wearing your collar and holding the teddy bear he bought for you at a random grocery store, and even though he still teased you about it you treasured it

And your t-shirt read "I'm baby", making him snort as he set down his backpack on the chair closest to your bed

"you are baby, and that's why I'm here to look after you. Can't have a tiny lil thing like you run around unsupervised right?" You nodded because duh, babies can't be left alone

Now you're here, tucked against Dabis chest with a hand heated bottle, while he traces warm fingers over your cheeks

He doesn't talk while he feeds you your bottle, he simply cradles you close and occasionally kisses your cheeks, your eyelids, your temple, your nose

You fall asleep faster and deeper than you ever have even though before your boyfriend showed up you'd be awake all night

So now it's not unusual for you to text Dabi that 🍼 emoji and he's packing a bag and heading over to take care of his baby

[the-bau-quinjet]

You are in Love

Chapter 14 of In Breakable Heaven! This is the last chapter, although I might revisit this later on to write some little blurbs or something if you want!

Summary: Reader and Spencer finally talk about things.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: ~1600

Spencer’s POV

 He stopped outside your door, ready to knock when he heard JJ ask “Why didn’t you tell us what happened? Or even that you were seeing anyone?”

 You sighed, “I don’t know really. At first, it was because it was like a game between us. We actually had a bet going about which one of you guys would figure it out first. I was actually planning to tell you all at Rossi’s last family dinner, but then with everything that happened it just…”

 “Y/N” Morgan started, “what can we do to help? Do you want me to kill him? The team can probably hide his body.” He felt himself tense up at the sound of Morgan threatening to kill him. 

 “No. The truth is I’d rather feel like this in a world with him than be happy in a world without him. It’s not his fault. I… I was supposed to meet him for dinner that night, but he had to cancel. That’s part of why he blames himself. Or at least I think so. I genuinely haven’t talked to him about it. ” His heart broke again with the same twinge of guilt at causing you so much pain. Without thinking too much about it, he knocked, greeted by Rossi as he opened the door to the dressing room.

 Meeting your eye, he manages a weak “Hi Y/N.”

 “Morgan said you had to talk to your Mom’s doctors, is she okay?” you responded, the concern clear on your face. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of amazement over how concerned you were even after he broke your heart. “Oh, uh yeah she’s fine. They just wanted to switch her medicine again. Thanks for asking.” You nodded in response, not knowing what else to say.

 “I think, um, I think I’m just gonna go home now.” You said, staring at the floor to avoid everyone’s sympathetic looks. “I just want to go to bed and hope for the best, ya know?” You began pushing your way through people, your bag on your shoulder.

 He grabbed your wrist, looking at you with a mixture of sadness and guilt over everything. He wanted to say how he felt. Tell you and everyone the truth. But, he felt you pull away and recognized the look in your eye that said not now, not here. You were gone before he could say anything else. Tears falling from his eyes, he turned back to his friends.

 “Spence, are you okay?” JJ asked, wondering what the hell was going on. He sighed, sliding down the wall before hitting the ground. Tears were still running down his cheeks when he decided what he had to do. “No. I am an asshat.” He admitted. Everyone turned to him, surprised at his use of language. “I’m the asshat.”

 Every member of the team turned to him with varying degrees of shock and disappointment worn on their faces. 

“What did you do?” Morgan prodded him for more information. And he gave it. All of it. He started at the beginning, when he walked you home from your apartment the day he met you until that day in your apartment when he walked out of your life to keep you safe.

 “Oh my god.” Penelope wanted to smack him and she wasn’t a violent person. “How could you do that to her?” She shrieked.

 “I know. I messed everything up because for some stupid reason I didn’t think she would love me after everything. I thought she would want to forget me so she could forget everything that happened to her. I thought I was just a reminder of the bad when she deserved so much more. How do I fix it?” They all looked at him expectantly, as if he already knew the answer.

 “She clearly loves you. Just go tell her the truth and hope that the two of you will work this out.” Hotch was the first to speak up after he started back at them in confusion.

 “You’re right. I have to go.” Spencer stood abruptly, grabbing his bag and running to leave the room.

 He was still able to hear Hotch mutter “How did the two of them fool all of you for so long?” Rossi followed up with “It was so obvious when they did that little trivia competition.” as he ran out the door.

 --

 Y/N POV

 You were kind of expecting Spencer to show up after looking into his eyes backstage. He seemed so desperate, but it scared you. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be friends or if he wanted you to move on.

 When you arrived home, you didn’t even bother with the lights. You collapsed face down onto the couch to wait.

 You aren’t sure how long you were laying like that before you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole to confirm your suspicions, you opened the door, backing up and gesturing for him to come inside.

 Without uttering a word, you returned to your position on the couch.

 “Y/N… I don’t know what I could say to make up for what I put you through, but I’ll start with this. I am so sorry. I was an idiot. No, I am an idiot. I was so scared of you not wanting to look at me anymore, of you blaming me for what happened like I blame myself, that I ran. I pushed you away and thought you’d be better off for it. I never wanted to hurt you like this. And then I completely shut you out for almost a month. You didn’t deserve any of that.” He paused trying to calm his racing heart so he could continue. “You deserve everything good in the world. So much more than I could ever give you, but I will gladly spend the rest of my life trying.”

You didn’t move from your spot on the couch during his impassioned speech. You didn’t need to. Listening to the regret in his voice was enough to bring you to tears. Just minutes ago you were so sure he was going to say something about just being friends or trying to get you to move on, so this was a surprise to say the least. 

Spencer noticed the slight sobs that overtook your body as you buried your face further into the couch. His voice broke even further at seeing you so upset. “I’ll, um, I’ll leave if you want me to.” 

Hearing him move towards the door was enough to force you out of the couch. “No!” Your voice came out louder than either of you expected. Spencer was quick to turn around at the sound of your voice, his face falling even more at the sight of your bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. 

The sight of him brings tears to your eyes again, but you do your best to prevent them from falling. You stutter out a shaky “I don’t want you to leave” before walking over to him and pulling him into a soft hug. “For a certified genius, you are pretty stupid.” 

 You can feel him nod his head against you as he pulls you into a tighter embrace. “I promise, I’ll never do anything this stupid ever again.”

“Good, cause then I might have to let Morgan hit you.” Spencer visibly shuddered at the idea, causing both of you to chuckle. Slowly, the two of you made your way through your apartment to the bed, laying down and cuddling as close as possible to each other. Just before falling asleep, you realized you hadn’t told him how you felt to his face. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

--

Three days later, you, Spencer, and the rest of the BAU were all at Rossi’s for a “family” dinner. Immediately upon entry, Penelope pulled you into the living room so she could attack you with questions about you and Spencer. You answered every rapid fire question as best as you could before Rossi called everyone over to sit and eat.

Before long, you couldn’t help but ask “I know Rossi and Hotch figured it out, but did the rest of you really have no idea that we were dating?” You glanced at the profilers around the table.

Penelope chimed in first. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I knew there was something there, but when we found out Spencer had a secret girlfriend I put the idea on the backburner since I didn’t think my best friend would keep that from me.” She said the whole thing while glaring at you, well as close to a glare as Penelope could manage for someone she loves. 

“I would like to agree with that sentiment.” JJ stated with a much more convincing glare directed at Spencer. 

“But, seriously. The trivia game? You all know how obsessed with Taylor Swift I am. Plus,” you turned to Derek and Emily, “the three of us have made so many Parks and Rec references. Where else could Spencer possibly pick up all that knowledge?”

Derek and Emily looked slightly offended at being called out. Quick to defend himself, Derek piped up. “Well, we figured out he was seeing someone!”

“Yeah, we just didn’t put it together that it was you...” Emily finished the thought. 

“I’m glad you all know now though. No more secret phone calls or sneaking around.” Spencer looked at you and his face was the perfect depiction of the heart eyes emoji. You quickly pecked his cheek before turning back to the rest of the team. 

“Just one more question, how have none of you noticed the ring yet?” You held up your left hand, wiggling your fingers. You and Spencer laughed at the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. The chock quickly wore off into congratulations and hugs as you thought about how lucky you are to have found such a loving family.

tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets1967 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @akuri-shinsou @prongsyy @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sherlockmarvelharrypotter @lizziebritish @measure-in-pain

[saltminerising]

re /post/674678999607345152/

I used to be in Ice. I love the aesthetic, and used to love the dom team when I played many years ago. But when I came back last year from a long hiatus, I discovered that the new dom team is... uncomfortable? I'm not sure how to say it. They're nice enough on the surface, and I had fun participating in dom for one push or two. But the longer I participated, the more I noticed how awful they can be to people who they deem, like... unworthy?

They're super cancel-y and will gang up on people for things that they perceive to be "bad" but aren't... really... an issue?

Tbh I don't even know why they use Discord and not a different chat service, because they have multiple rules (both official rules and unspoken ones that they just "prefer") about how people aren't allowed to use certain Discord features specifically on their server. I once saw a Nitro user ask permission to use the Ice emojis outside of the server, like in DMs and stuff, because they were worried that wasn't allowed. That's... literally how Discord works. It's what Nitro users pay for. And, at the time at least, it wasn't even in the server rules. Why is someone worried the team would get upset with them for it?!?!

There's just this weird culture of people constantly asking if they're allowed to do things or if something is okay, because it's never clear when you'll accidentally step on some hidden trap no one warned you about and get publicly called out for it like you were somehow supposed to know.

They also don't really seem to get how calling someone out or calling out a specific group of people in a public channel can be perceived. It really sucks.

I once told one of the dom leaders I liked their art (literally something like "your doodle of x is super cute!") and rather than just accept the compliment, they got mad at me because I called it the wrong type of animal. It wasn't even a polite correction, which I would completely understand. Rather, they got super offended I would dare mix up two species of similar-looking animal, and went on a rant about it on a public discord channel, saying how anyone could tell those two types of animals apart. Clearly I touched a nerve--sorry, won't compliment your art anymore. I suppose public shaming was an appropriate response for trying to be nice. Maybe that happened to them a lot or something, I don't know. Either way, getting publicly chewed out for trying to compliment someone was definitely a bit of a shock, especially from someone who is supposed to be an organizer in a position of authority.

It's rarely dramatic from them, though. It's usually just coldness, vagueposting, general passive aggressiveness, and borderline-uncomfortable comments until someone just... quietly leaves. Sentiments like how everyone who does or likes a certain thing are bad and should feel bad, clearly not caring how many members that may apply to. There's no sense of nuance or empathy. Honestly, they act a bit like stereotypical cliquey, holier-than-thou private school kids in TV dramas. I think if you agree with all of their preferences you'd never notice anything was wrong, but the moment someone seems to differ in tastes or personality or the way they communicate, they're frozen out.

Fits with the theme of Ice, I guess.

Anyway, I'm in Shadow now. A little squad of us moved over there together a few months ago. Less dom but I'm okay with that, and the eyes are much harder to work with. But the aesthetic is fun and I can always use nest rentals, and so far I've never once felt unwelcome or like I'm going to be driven out for like, I don't know, accidentally crossing a dom leader's personal tastes.

[aajjks]

baby i’m 17 and indian and muslim as well. don’t worry bby! i don’t claim being indian because to me (even though both my parents are indian - my dad was born and raised in india and my mum was born in england and i’ve lived in england and things happen and my dad isn’t my life and i just refuse to accept being indian as me) idk if that makes sense. i feel like people use words like ‘I am so and so…’ to make themselves feel better but you’re not, your parents are. People use ethnicity as a badge of pride because you’re exotic or whatever compared to ‘white people’ (that’s non-derogatory on my side) and it makes saying things like ‘I’m Indian sound terrible because why should ethnicity matter? In my experience (not trying to be rude), Indian people have no sense of boundary and are just very intrusive. They gossip way too much (especially the fact they are Muslims) and it kinda infuriates me. My Mum had an argument with my sister and she started talking about what happened to another one of their sisters (she has five) and was going about how she would have a talk with her about it but like?? u did not have to bring the second auntie into it, you could’ve just called the first auntie straight away. am i being weird? i apologise. Indians also tend to be very desperate (the ones who live in India). Like especially in comment sections, they’re the ones who put random emojis rather than actual comments under posts and it’s like as a writer, you want people to reblogged to interact rather than comment and they just don’t do rhat. they just want to be the first at everything. first to comment, first to say i loved bts first. (my judgement may be skewed but so be it)

I’m not trying to be controversial but I also hate it when black people bring up the old whipping jokes and act like they’re the ones who are currently getting whipped if you get me. like when they say my people were slaves, and it’s the same people who get offended if you class people by colour like isn’t that what you’re doing when you say MY people. also, some of you have got to stop living in the past, i don’t understand everyone’s obsession with talking about the past that has nothing to do with them. like were you a slave? i doubt it. it’s real life not a joke. stop treating it like it’s just a funny story to pass off to your peers or anyone that will listen.

i also don’t agree with the n word. i’m sorry - the fact people tried gatekeeping it especially when niga means ‘we’ i believe in korean is ridiculous. i don’t get why black people get to call other black people such a bad word. if it’s such a bad word, no one should be able to say it. end of. black people can be racist to black people and what then? you going to let that run because they’re black. if a black person said it to another in a menacing way, no one would bat their eyes, but if a white person were to say it (even if it’s the supposed friendly way - let’s say they ARE black but just not physically. people would be like ‘oh my god, cancelled!’

like how does that even work. everything is always about intentions.

It’s not even about colour cus my complexion is very light, so people assume of me as white or European, I don’t know anything about Indians tbh cuz I have no connection to india or Indian Muslims.

And as for black people, I have absolutely no right to say anything, they have been very nice people to me, I really respect them!!!

I have to say that I am very little educated on races. So I try to not discuss races, not even mine haha cus you never know what you might say that could be considered offensive!

[steveleoparddd]

Hello! I used to enjoy your (darren shan characters react to)) posts but you've never done them on tumblr anymore. could you please do a characters react to series or something like this? thank you

hey, thank YOU for this cuz honestly i have lots of fun making the whole “cdf characters if...” :3 

I don;t know if i’ll be able to do a series bcs idk if i can be creative for so long but ill see what i can do !!! heres this for now. 

CDF CHARACTERS MAKING APOLOGY VIDEOS

Steve

Title: Sorry.

Thumbnail: Simple black bg with a serious looking Steve, clenched jaw, looking at the camera with “Sorry” written in Impact font over his head

Duration: 1 minute 30 seconds.

Intro Music: N/A

Setting: his bedroom, wearing a simple black t-shirt. did he just wake up?

Content: Starts with him looking off to the side and shaking his head slowly. When he begins he vaguely mentions what happened, gives a not-so-clear reason for what he did, and then apologizes. Is it just me or did that feel a little dishonest? Wait it’s already ending? He smiles lightly and waves as video ends. 

Ads: Yes. 6 ads. 

Outro Music: Yes, the usual upbeat outro but it’s toned down

Description: Nothing to do with the apology but it DOES have links to his socials and website where you can buy his merch. 

Darren

Title: My Apology......

Thumbnail: A teary-eyed Darren looking down, looking really sad. Oh damn, will he cry ???

Duration: 13 minutes

Intro Music: Yes, usual upbeat music with the whole animated intro.....

Setting: carpeted lounge floor, couch and french window in the background. is he in a costume? the hell is that pirate-shirt thing he’s wearing?

Content: Starts with him exhaling and looking at the camera. Shots of him that show him trying to compose himself or think of the right way to say all the things in his mind. He tells the entire thing that happened, tells his point of view (but that only makes things worse) and then promises to better himself and smiles and the video ends

By the way, he didn’t cry even once. 

Ads: None

Outro Music: N/A

Description: The entire lyrics of “Sorry, Blame it On me” by Akon

Larten

Title: I Have Something To Say.....

Thumbnail: Just a frame from the video. It’s a bit pixelly/low quality because it was shot on phone.

Duration: 2 minutes

Intro Music: No

Setting: a cave???? where is he??? why’s he dressed so fancy in the middle of nowhere?

Content: Gets right into it, as if filming an Instagram story. There’s a brief one-second pause before he begins because he’s checking if the recorder is on. Then he goes into it. Turns out this isn’t an apology video, he’s just saying he’s in the right and won’t apologize. Doesn’t mention or acknowledge the situation...he’s just ranting about being right...oh god. it ends- like all his videos- abruptly. 

Ads: None

Outro Music: N/A

Description: "Never apologize for doing what’s right. -Plato”

Kurda

Title: What Everyone Needs To Hear

Thumbnail: Blurred background, looking down....these emojis are on it 😨😢......

Duration: 10 minutes

Intro Music: N/A

Setting: his usual setup. 

Content: he begins the video with a sponsorship about some bottle or whatever. he seems upbeat and happy, as usual, even when he addresses the situation and explains what he did. “so...that’s what happened. I am sorry to those offended by such a trivial matter. Your feelings matter, of course, but you take yourselves too seriously.” It’s giving very...mixed vibes. Is he sorry or not?? 

Ads: Nope

Outro Music: N/A

Description: “Facts (and logic) do not- and must not- care about our feelings - Unknown” (he genuinely doesn;t know where the qoute is from but he’s gonna get cancelled for this too--)

Harkat

Title: Harkat

Thumbnail: Black screen

Duration: 3 hours

Intro Music: No

Setting: N/A, we can’t see him, the screen is black at first with panting in the bg as if he just ran, then the screen shows his screen capture, minecraft is opening....

Content: He just plays minecraft. Doesn’t say a word. 

Ads: None.

Outro Music: N/A

Description: a

Arra

Title: For the Crybabies

Thumbnail: Her giving the middle finger

Duration: 5 minutes 

Intro Music: N/A

Setting: the gym. she’s sweaty and it seems as though she just finished an intense workout. there are a couple people behind her doing their thing.

Content: Sits down, she’s panting. Looks at the camera and goes off. She’s really angry and throws expletives like anything, it’s just 5 minutes of her chewing on the snowflakes that are trying to cancel her for stupid reasons. 

Ads: None

Outro Music: N/A

Description: Fuck you

Vancha

Title: What you want

Thumbnail: his abs. 

Duration: 30 seconds

Intro Music: N/A

Setting: THE FOREST???? WHY’S HE NAKED???

Content: we get a side-view of his bare torso as he does some push-ups. the video isn’t an apology? he talks about irrelevant things. video ends mid-sentence.

Ads: N/A 

Outro Music: N/A

Description: Blank

Debbie

Title: I Am Sorry

Thumbnail: Hey crying really badly. It’s a frame from the video

Duration: 20 minutes

Intro Music: Yes, usual animated intro 

Setting: an empty classroom ...????????

Content: It’s edited to show a clip from the middle of the video at the beginning, in which she’s crying really badly and apologizing. Then the intro plays and the video starts. She tells the whole story, also 2 other stories that aren’t relevant to the situation but she adds them anyway. 

Ads: 3 ads.

Outro Music: Yes. 

Description: Justifying why she had to add the ads, she’s gonna donate all money made off this to charity

Evanna

Title: The Truth

Thumbnail: A picture (with really low brightness) of a solemn Evanna dressed in black on a wooden floor with a skull beside her. A crow is perched on the skull. 

Duration: 11 minutes 11 seconds 

Intro Music: N/A

Setting: where the hell is she 

Content: First few seconds are kind of weird because she just casts a spell. Then she starts, turns out THIS isn’t an apology video either!!! She’s just pulling receipts and making audience realize she doesn’t need to apologize and also forever destroying the career(s) of the accusing party by exposing them it’s crazy and the internet will forget it never 

Ads: Disputed

Outro Music: Ends with a black screen and her usual, witchy outro music

Description: Do not meddle in things you can never comprehend. 

Oh and a link to her website :3

Mr. Tiny:

Doesn’t make an apology video 

lol these are it for now...lmk if you want smthn more specific?

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Green

My first attempt at a modern au! Based off a fantastic idea by @minky-for-short where Stephen and Lucien's relationship starts off as a sugar daddy arrangement!

Please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3

-----------

If anyone had asked- God forbid, he’d rather die- Stephen would have rushed to his own defence. He’d probably have done it while turning bright red and spluttering but he’d have insisted it was just a matter of timing.

It wasn’t a lie. He’d have to work right up until he went to meet Lucien if he wanted to get the reports on his last few cases submitted in time. Lucien had meetings early in the morning, Stephen didn’t want to ask him to push their date back any further than he already had and the thought of cancelling...well that wasn’t an option. Not because of Lucien, who was extremely flexible and understanding as far as people in this kind of arrangement went. He just couldn’t and he wasn’t going to give it any more thought than that.

But it was just because of the timing. Stephen wasn’t getting off on this or anything. There just wasn’t going to be time to change into it between the end of his overly long day at the justiciary and the start of his date so wearing it all under his work clothes was the only option. He’d have insisted that until he ran out of air, if anyone had asked, probably before jumping out of the nearest window.

But this, Stephen did have to admit to himself, was entirely indefensible. This was just because he was a hopeless degenerate.

“Just going to the bathroom,” he announced in what he hoped was a casual tone, dropping his pen down with a thunk on the blanket of newspapers spread out on his desk, ones he’d been scouring for signs of magical miscreancy. More than half of their cases came from just noticing something odd in those tiny stories crushed up into the margins of local papers.

From the desk that joined onto his, though much neater and better organised and with less coffee cup rings etched permanently onto it, Esther looked up with a frown.

“I’m not your teacher, Steph. But okay, good for you,” she muttered before turning back to her computer. She’d lost their game of rock paper scissors that morning so it was her turn to deal with all of the emails that were inevitably sent to the justiciary every day, majority of which were complete nonsense and all of which were painful to read.

Stephen winced, snatching up his phone and making a quick exit before he could make it any more obvious that he was hiding something. Getting to the bathroom was harder that it really should have been, given how close the desks were shoved together, how many stacks of papers sat precariously on desk edges, how many odd trinkets and artefacts humming with magic were left to scatter across the faded carpet. But Stephen had worked there amongst the justiciary’s chaos for long enough that he made it to the other side of the cramped office without causing a disaster, only needing to nudge a few things back into place with his power as he went. Thankfully at this hour there was no one else still here to express their irritation.

The bathrooms in the Council Building were a microcosm of the rest of the place- too small, poorly maintained, outdated and a decent place to cry when overstressed, overworked and overwhelming. But for once, Stephen was rather grateful for that fact because it meant the bathroom was only built for one person at a time, meaning he could lock the door and be confident that no one was going to walk in on him doing what he was about to do.

Stephen pushed back his hair and gave a long, steady exhale. Since he’d entered into this arrangement with Lucien Vaudrey he’d been doing a lot of thinking with cock rather than his brain and, honestly, he’d had no reason to regret it yet. Save a few mornings where walking wasn’t as easy as it might have been.

So his brain didn’t get a look in, he put his back to the door and quickly yanked open the first few buttons of his shirt, just enough that he could pull his collar aside and show a little of what was underneath. Not too much, just the start of the lacy paneling that made up the band that circled his upper chest, the edge of one of the black straps that zig zagged across his body in an array that had taken longer to work out than he was willing to admit.

Stephen ran his thumb along the black lace, shivering a little. He’d been so wrapped up in his work since walking into the office that he’d mostly forgotten it was there but every so often he’d shift in his chair or he’d stand too quickly and he’d feel the feathery touch of all that silk slip between his skin and his clothes like a caress. He’d had to shove the awareness away very quickly before it could send any more than a quick jolt to his groin and was just thankful that today had been one spent entirely at his desk.

But he was only wearing it because of the timing. He was on a tight schedule. Of course.

Now, as he flicked his phone camera open with a thumb and held it at a slightly raised angle like he’d seen people do when they knew far more about taking selfies than he did, he couldn’t help but be aware of it all. The way it snaked around his body and held him tight, branching out like roots hidden in the ground, putting the barest pressure on his hips and chest and the curve of his arse like the ghost of Lucien’s hands. Invisible under his deliberate choice of a dark blue shirt and his usual shabby suit, except for the barest glimpse he was allowing. Only known to him.

And now to Lucien.

Stephen took a quick photo of himself, holding his shirt open with one hand, using a little of his power to brighten his eyes. Of course he didn’t find the picture particularly impressive, all he saw when he looked it back over were the hollowness of his cheeks, the jut of his overly large nose and the immense bags under his eyes. How his hair needed brushing and the out of place tooth that showed in the slight part of his lips. But he’d learned to trust Lucien’s opinion on these things, his blindness to all the flaws that jumped out to his own eyes, and his lover’s response to this picture was too good to pass up for the sake of insecurity.

So he opened up the many texts he’d been exchanging lately with the contact in his phone that was nothing but an emoji of a feather. He typed out a quick message before attaching the photo and sending it on it’s way.

Got your present this morning. What do you think?

Stephen gathered himself together quickly, buttoning his shirt again and checking swiftly in the mirror that nothing was showing through. He wasn’t sure what someone looked like when they were wearing lingerie under their clothes but he tried to make his whatever the opposite of that was. With a thought, he set off the old, roaring hand dryer so it would sound like he’d been doing something people were supposed to do in bathrooms. When dealing with Esther, there was no such thing as overcovering his tracks.

He navigated his way back through the obstacle course of office equipment and magical paraphernalia to where Esther was scowling at her computer screen and stabbing the keys as she typed.

“I swear, if we get one more sodding email about UFOs I’m going to throw this thing out of the window,” she declared, viciously deleting like each one had offended her personally.

“Y’know there are days I wish practitioners actually were secretly working for a cabal of interdimensional aliens,” Stephen hummed, sliding back into his chair, “We’d probably have more funding if we were.”

Esther gave a mirthless snort of laughter, the text on her screen reflecting in her glasses, not even glancing from it as she took a swig of coffee. A mug had appeared on his desk too, freshly steaming.

Stephen was about to thank her when his phone buzzed in his hand, making him jump. He scrambled to check it, feeling his heart thud when he saw it was from Lucien. Two messages, short and sharp and impossible not to read in his cool tones.

Beautiful witch

You are in so much trouble

The handful of hours between those messages and half past ten had felt like an eternity. Enough that Stephen couldn’t hide his haste as he nearly sprinted from the Council Building to the Underground. He spent the long ride from the shabby borough the justiciary called home to Knightsbridge staring at his phone, rereading that message over and over again, his mind running away with all that so much trouble implied. He knew fine well he was going to arrive flushed, already half hard and salivating, ready to do whatever Lucien asked of him.

He wove his way through the evening crowds, stumbling into the bar they always came into. It was a sleek, expensive looking place, the kind of bar he’d never set foot in if he hadn’t been beckoned by Lucien. He felt every penny in his meagre paycheck when he walked through the door but he did like the warmth, the rich leather, the fact that nearly all of the other couples there were pairs of men too. He liked how Lucien would put his arm around him as they sat in their usual booth and he’d feel that flicker of belonging, in spite of everything else.

Stephen’s eyes, betraying his excitement more than anything else by being a sparking gold, tracked over the room until he spotted him. Lucien, having far more control over his working hours, often arrived well before Stephen and sat with his laptop or a book or a newspaper, a glass of whiskey at his elbow. But today the table before him was clear of distractions, he simply sat with his fingers steepled at his lips, his fine features set into an expression of patience. The kind of face a hunting cat would wear, knowing their prey would be along in due course.

And when his clear, grey eyes locked on Stephen, he simply smiled.

Swallowing hard, the younger man leapt to attention, clearing the bar and sliding into the booth with his lover.

“Evening,” he tried, casually, though his heart was hammering and his cock was aching.

“Just what did you think you were playing at, sweet boy?”

Lucien dispensed with the pleasantries, his voice already dropped into the low, rolling tones he used when Stephen was about to lose his clothes. He spoke softly so their conversation didn’t carry past the oak panelled confines of their booth but not enough that Stephen missed the heat in his tone. He tried to get a grip on himself, he had a feeling he’d need to walk across the room before too long.

“I thought you’d want to see,” he shivered as his tone slipped almost unconsciously into something playful, something teasing and faux innocent, an affectation that would have made a past version of himself gape in disbelief, “It looked so pretty and the note said you wanted me to wear it tonight…”

Lucien’s eyes flashed, “Did the note say to be a little prick tease and send filthy pictures to me while I was infuriatingly far away and couldn’t get my hands on you?”

Under the table, Stephen felt Lucien’s far longer, wiry muscled legs slide over his own. After waiting all day even that bare contact, through two layers of clothing, had him swallowing back a whimper.

"No...” Stephen dropped his chin, seeming to bow under the intensity until he let his eyes flicker up and catch Lucien’s, “My lord.”

He watched as the hard line of his lover’s jaw tightened. They’d been in this arrangement for a couple of months now and one thing Stephen had learned, amongst a host of new desires he’d never suspected he owned, was those words. Those words, referencing the titles that Lucien actually did own but denied in his everyday life, were essentially a crooked finger. They were Stephen essentially pinning a badge to himself that read ‘complete and unapologetic brat’, carte blanche for Lucien to master him however he saw fit. To break him, if required.

“Then you deserve everything you’re getting, don’t you?” Lucien shifted into something not unlike a lion winding back to pounce, “Because if you’re going to act like a slut, that’s exactly how I’m going to treat you.”

Stephen felt those words grip him by the nerve endings and he knew fine well he was fidgeting but didn’t know how to stop. He just looked at Lucien with mute, pleading surrender.

“I am going to get up and go into the men’s bathroom,’ Lucien gave the low command, “In five minutes, when you’ve got some kind of control over yourself, you’re going to join me. And I am going to show you what happens when you think you can make me wait. Colour?”

That last word was ever so slightly softer, offered rather than dictated. Lucien never failed to check in with Stephen whenever they were playing. It was in their agreement, of course, but Stephen had the strong sense this was just how the man would be with all his partners, for all his domineering tendencies.

Stephen swallowed and glanced around. There weren’t many people in at this late hour, this bar was more of a sophisticated runway for a night out and most of the crowds had moved to somewhere louder and more raucous. Just a few couples, like them, more wrapped up in each other than anyone else, not quite ready to let their dates end. He did some nervous mathematics on how likely they were to get caught, balancing the number of other customers with his ability to double lock the door with magic, dividing in the failsafe that he could always use a little bit of fluence in a real emergency…

Hopeless degenerate, Day, his brain sighed.

“Green,” he murmured and he couldn’t help the grin that flickered to life on his face, just for a moment.

Lucien clearly forgave the break in character, answering with one of his own before composing himself and smoothly rising, looking effortlessly in control as he loped casually towards the gent’s. Stephen stared at his arse the entire time without much remorse. He’d already made his bed, after all.

He timed the five minutes on his phone, drinking the remainder of Lucien’s whiskey in the meantime, giving the heady, smoky taste of it every scrap of his attention in an attempt to redirect some blood flow. It took the full time before he judged himself ready to walk across the room, before he could scramble up and follow like a dog at his master’s call.

Twice in one day, Stephen found himself endlessly thankful for single-person bathrooms, as he was yanked into one by the front of his shirt and the door slammed behind him with the very reassuring click of a lock. He double secured it with a little magic, all the same, as Lucien kissed him fiercely.

“There you are,” Lucien purred once he was done bruising their lips, not letting go of Stephen’s lapels and keeping him awkwardly standing on his tiptoes, “Surprised you managed to wait the full five.”

“You told me too,” Stephen gasped, aware that Lucien’s eyes were looking into his shirt, hungrily tracing the lines of lace that were now visible.

Lucien chuckled, “Too late to try and be a good boy now, darling. Shirt open. Trousers down.”

Stephen willed the ether into work, knowing it always impressed Lucien just a little to see the buttons and zips and buckles falling away with apparently no effort at all. It was quicker too, only a few moments before he was as instructed, all of the lingerie now visible to Lucien’s searching gaze. He seemed to drink in the sight, his gaze ravenous as those grey eyes slid up and down the length of him.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’d look divine?” Lucien groaned appreciatively, running a finger under the lace trim below his chest, raising goosebumps as he went.

“Uh huh,” Stephen gasped, unable to be more articulate than that, his need drowning everything else, “My lord…”

“Against the sink, sweet boy,” those strong, slightly calloused hands took his shoulders and guided him until he was bracing himself on the edges of the sink, Lucien’s chest pressed against his back, “I want you to see yourself.”

So Stephen watched this other version of himself in the mirror, bathed in harsh light from overhead. He watched as his pupils blew wide, as his slightly swollen lips parted in a gasp when he felt Lucien shift to pull a bottle of something out of his jacket pocket. He watched this ethereal, high contrast version of himself flush as one large hand caressed the curve of his ass through the lace before hooking it to one side. He watched his eyelids flutter and his head tilt back when a slick finger teased him open, and saw his lace wreathed chest heave when it breached him. Stephen watched this man who was somehow him be opened and readied with care and attention, felt every moan reverberate in his own chest, felt his own nerves pulse and thrum with pleasure. And he found himself thinking, as much as he’d been unable to say it before, Lucien had been right.

He’d told him he’d look divine and he did. He’d told him he was beautiful and he was. Maybe he always had been.

“Ready?” Lucien murmured, grazing his earlobe with his teeth, “Give me a colour, sweet boy.”

“Green,” Stephen gasped, voice raw and ready to snap, “So green, my lord, please…”

He felt Lucien’s laugh echo through him, his arms coming around to press them close, “You need to be quieter, darling, or we’ll need to find a new date night place.”

“Well get on with fucking me then,” Stephen grumbled, forgetting himself in his desperation.

“Ah ah ah,” Lucien let his voice grow dangerous again, one hand snaking down to squeeze his aching cock through the lace panties, none too gently, “What kind of tone is that, sweet boy?”

Stephen whined, biting his lip and shuddering, “Sorry, my lord.”

“Better,” Lucien pulled his hand back, using it to unzip himself, “Don’t I always give you what you need?”

He proved his point as he moved the panties aside again, pressing into Stephen, now giving him everything he needed with no hesitation, right up to the hilt. Stephen had to fight to stay quiet, gripping the sink with white knuckles, planting his feet as far apart as he could to try and make room. Lucien paused, kissing the crown of his head, before finding a steady, natural rhythm with his hips, aware they didn’t exactly have a lot of time.

Stephen melted into it, gasps and grunts as soft as he could make them wrenching from his chest, shuddering as Lucien’s hands began roving again. Between the hand working him through the fabric and the cock pounding into him, the tension climbed punishingly fast, until he was scrabbling for balance, heart pounding, breath coming in desperate pants.

“I...fuck, Lucien, I’m there, I...oh god,” he gasped incoherently, arching back against his lover.

“I’ve got you,” Lucien groaned, shifting to work at a deeper angle, “Come for me, sweet boy.”

Stephen did, with a strangled moan, all of the waiting and teasing and tension unravelling in one blissful moment that turned his vision white. A heartbeat later he felt Lucien empty into him, heat pooling low in his stomach which then ignited into the familiar rush of power their lovemaking always gave him. He went rigid, feeling that rush that was so, so close to too much, but he knew it would ebb and leave him boneless and trembling in Lucien’s arms.

“We...may not have thought this through,” Lucien panted, steadying him gently.

“Because I’ve ruined the lovely underwear you got me?” Stephen murmured, closing his eyes a moment, “Because we’ve somehow got to clean ourselves up and walk out of here with some dignity? Because you might have to carry me because I’m not sure I can actually walk?”

Lucien chuckled, “All of that. But also…”

He held out his arms, showing the patches of tan skin where the magpies should be. They were off again, animated by Stephen’s magic, a few already exploring under the lace, pecking curiously.

“I really should have worn long sleeves,” Lucien admitted.

Stephen couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, both hands flying to his mouth to try and muffle the sound. Lucien dissolved too, burying his face in Stephen’s curls as he shook with wracking laughter.

Stephen knew, with his trousers around his ankles and shirt slipping over one shoulder, standing in a public bathroom freshly fucked and wearing lace lingerie, he should be feeling like a hopeless degenerate. And he did, pleasantly so. But that wasn’t the only thing.

If anyone had asked him he would have denied it. But in that moment, Stephen felt loved.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Lie Alone

A/N  In commenting on the last installment in the Metric universe, I said that Jamie’s date with Claire was complete dating wish fulfillment on my part.  Which got me thinking about their next date and what other personal preferences I could cram into this story.  And yet it’s definitely Claire’s turn to take Jamie for a spin, which meant that... well, you’ll see!

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Blanco White (another guest artist!) that inspired the title and which features in the fic can be heard here: https://youtu.be/SNp7sb5vXTs

Big shout out to @holdhertightandsayhername, who introduced me to this artist in her marvelous fic The Sands of Time.  

June 21, 2018, London, England

Sassench:  Do you have plans later Fraser?

Wee Fox Cub:  depends r u making a better pffer?

Sassench: Meet me out front at Joe’s.  5pm.

Wee Fox Cub: :thumbs up emoji:

Sassench:  And Jamie?  Wear something tight.  Preferably leather.

Wee Fox Cub:  ...

***

He couldn’t imagine what Claire had in mind, but he’d cancelled his plans to watch the England South Africa test match with the lads and was instead haunting the kerb in front of her temporary lodging, wearing fitted black jeans and his leather jacket, despite the sunny mid-summer weather.  When his date hadn’t emerged from the building by 4:05, he pulled out his phone.  An approaching mechanical thrum interrupted him mid-text.

The first thing he noticed were her boots: black, with a thick rubber sole and chunky heel.  These were zipped over leather pants that clung to her coltish legs like a second skin, matching the matte gleam of the motor between them.  A leather jacket, the tailored twin of his own, hugged her narrow waist.  By the time his eyes had scrolled upward, a visored helmet was being removed, and Claire’s familiar hair and teasing brass eyes appeared.

“You’re staring, Jamie,” she remarked.  The fact that the voice was his roommate’s usual no-nonsense tone, seasoned with a touch of humour, was a necessary dash of reality.  

“Aye,” he admitted.  “Tis a verra beautiful... machine ye’re ridin’, Sassenach.  Is it yers?”

Her curls danced in the sunlight as she shook them out.

“God, no.  Joe only let me borrow it after I promised to cover his next two on-call shifts.  But don’t worry!  I practically grew up on a motorcycle.  I’ve had my license since I was sixteen.”

He filed this information away in the cluttered part of brain entitled Things I Never Expected to Learn about Claire Beauchamp. Accepting a second helmet, he swung himself onto the seat behind her.  His legs bracketed her hips in an unfamiliar, but by no means unpleasant, inversion.  Claire revved the motor, sending a shiver up his spine.  His arms wrapped around her waist, and they pulled into the slow flow of traffic.

“Comfy?”  Her voice startled him, low and intimate, coming from directly behind his ear.   He realized belatedly that the helmets were furnished with a communications system.

“Aye,” he asserted, although comfortable wasn’t exactly the word he’d use for his current state.  Somewhere between apprehensive and exhilarated would be more accurate.  “Will we make it tae our destination afore sundown, do ye think?”

She chuckled warmly, reaching back with one hand to tap him on the knee.

“Never you fear, my lad.  I have our urban escape route all planned out.  We’ll be flying in no time.”

She wasn’t wrong.  After a series of abrupt stops and starts, they dipped below the Thames in a well-lit tunnel, the echo of passing lorries muting all other sound.  Soon after that they were picking up speed on a wide motorway, the bike crouching against the wind.  He watched the throbbing mass of the city peel away, slowly giving way to greenery and the pastel light he associated with freedom.  He thought they were heading south along the Orbital into Surrey, but beyond that he had no notion of their whereabouts.  

Giving himself up into her care, he settled against Claire’s back, the crescent of her arse fitting neatly into the bowl of his thighs.  He was aware of being aroused, but it was a hazy rather than a sharp feeling, blunted by contentment.  If Claire was offended by the firmness pressing into her rump, she gave no sign.

After several hours of almost meditative motion, they turned onto a country lane, overhung by a leafy canopy.  Tidy Tudor buildings overlooked the road, their leaden windows glowing orange in the setting sun.   Their motorcycle joined a parade of vehicles ascending a low hill in a series of sharp turns.  Each time the bike navigated one of these, he was forced to tighten his grip on Claire’s torso, which by now felt like an extension of his own body.  He glowed like one of those panes of glass, molten and reflecting back the warmth that radiated from the core of who she was.  

The forest thinned into green hillside as they reached a parking lot.  He couldn’t help but feel disappointment as he observed the crowds.  Wherever they were, it was obviously a popular destination.  On the bike, he’d felt peculiarly isolated, alone with Claire, their conversation eased by the intermediary of the microphones.  Now he’d have to share her with the world.

He groaned as he unfolded his long legs to stand upright, and Claire grinned.

“They don’t make motorcycles in your size, I’m afraid.”

“An’ wha’ size is that, Sassenach?” he hummed suggestively while stretching his arms high above his head, untucking his shirt in the process.

Claire’s eyes dipped to where his belly was briefly exposed, then lower.

“Large,” was her bold answer, and he shot her a wickedly pleased glance.

After a beat she visibly gathered herself, reaching into the storage compartment behind where he had been sitting and pulling out a small bag and his plaid, which had somehow stayed in her possession after the fire.

“Are you up for a short hike?”

“For ye, Sassenach, anything.”

They meandered through an oak wood, then up a series of crude steps, until finally arriving on a grassy slope, the land falling away steeply to the south.  Low ridges and shallow valleys furled below them like gentle waves, reaching out to the horizon where the sun was preparing to set.  The air was fragrant, the ground releasing the heat of the day.

“One of my many boarding schools wasn’t far from here,” Claire explained as she spread the blanket near their feet.  “I must have been fourteen or so, and having a terrible time fitting in.  Uncle Lamb came to visit, probably at the headmaster’s behest, and this is where he took me.  I don’t remember what he said, but by the time we left, I felt better.  More at peace.  In lockstep with the larger order of things.   I’ve come back, now and then.  Any time I needed to find that feeling again.”

As she spoke, Claire emptied the small bag of its contents.  He recognized the logo from a deli they both frequented on two wrapped sandwiches, along with a pint of strawberries, some crisps, a lemonade and a bottle of his favourite summer ale.  She’d thought of everything, and it snagged at his heart.

“Tis bonnie.  I’m honoured ye wanted tae share it with me, Sassenach.”

They ate slowly, savouring the simple meal as the sky above their heads smudged from orange to pink to ever-deepening shades of purple.  One by one, the stars twinkled to life, like so many travelers lighting their fires for the night.  Away from the city, they numbered in the thousands, each a signpost on someone’s journey.  His mind spread out to fill the space between them, taking his thoughts to Lallybroch, moments from his youth long forgotten, the steadying hand of his parent’s guidance.  Claire was right.  Something about the place invited serenity.  He sighed with pleasure, tension he hadn’t even acknowledged draining slowly down his spine.

Claire’s hand crept across the blanket, and their pinkie fingers met, then overlapped.  As the air around them cooled, the breeze picked up, and he felt her shiver.

“Ye’re cold.  We should be on our way, aye?”

“Wait.  There’s one more thing I want you to see.”

He could think of several more things he wanted to see, but they were well hidden by leather and her guarded nature.  He’d known when he proposed this season of courtship that the road to Claire’s heart would be long and arduous, with many twists and lay-bys.  There could be no rushing the voyage.  He was confident the destination, should he be granted entry, would be worth any hardship.  And thankfully the views along the way were spectacular in their own right.

He’d been watching her profile out of the corner of his eye when the horizon burst into multi-coloured song.  Purple starbursts and red streamers exploded across a black canvas, followed by a pulsing yellow orb.  In the milliseconds before his consciousness caught up with the evidence, he was captivated.  Then he physically recoiled, expecting pain in the form of a cascade of memories.  Instead, the symphony of light continued without a sound.  He looked at Claire in awe.

“The wind is to the north, so it’s blowing the sound in the other direction.  I checked before I picked you up,” she explained.

The fireworks continued for another ten or fifteen minutes.  He’d never be quite sure, because he was lost in sensation.  The beautiful display was completely over-shadowed by the beauty of the woman beside him, her tiny finger still laced with his own.  

“Ye ken tis I who’s supposed tae be courtin’ ye, don’t ye, Sassenach?” he commented when a final fury of light gave way once again to stars.

“Says who?” she sniffed, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitch upwards.  

After performing a mental inventory of any and all physical impediments, he leaned slowly into her side, his intention unmistakable.  His heart thrilled when Claire met him halfway, her mouth damp and tart from the lemonade.  It was a kiss that walked the boundary between chaste and sensual, and he wished it could last forever.

“Thank ye, Claire.  Truly.”

At a loss for words for once, she dipped her head in acknowledgement.  They silently gathered their things and walked hand-in-hand to the bike.

The ride back to London was swift, with music taking the place of conversation.  A particularly beautiful song, poetic and wistful, left him feeling that Claire was speaking to him through its words; words she could not yet find the courage to say.  Accompanied by only a single guitar, a male voice rose in wistful intensity.

So I lie alone, and risk each night, I long to let you in But there's a life I lost, drifted out, before You let me in.

His fingers found their way beneath her jacket and rested on the warm skin of her belly.  He felt her soft skin give a shudder, like a ripple of wind across the still surface of a pond.

The motorway ribboned out beneath them.  The journey had only just begun.

*

*

*

*

Because this is a multi-disciplinary blog, here’s a shot of the view that Jamie and Claire enjoyed in this fic, which is Box Hill in Surrey (taken from Google Earth, as I’ve never been).

And here’s Claire’s bike!

[triptychexe]

TITLE: That’s Amore SUMMARY: After Johnny and Nia jokingly said they’d be each other’s Valentines, they uphold their promise to each other, only due to scheduling they end up going to the Pizza Parlor on Club Penguin as their date. GENRE: Fluff / budding relationship? PAIRING: Johnny + Nia WORD COUNT: 0.6k WARNINGS: I think there’s a few swears?

FEBRUARY 2017

“Wait, what server are you on?” Johnny asked through the phone. “Yeti.” Nia responded, most of her focus on a mini game, trying to earn some coins so she could dress her penguin up for their ‘date’.

“Yeti’s full, how about we go on Snowball?” Johnny suggested. Nia sighed. If she knew it was going to be this hard to schedule a Club Penguin date, she would have just scheduled a real one. 

“Yeah, hold on, let me finish this game.” Nia said.

“No need to rush, I gotta prep myself for this date anyway.” Johnny jokes. “I was going to say I’m going to look fly as fuck, but then I figured that would be insensitive to penguins.” “What? How?” Nia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Because penguins can’t fly.” Johnny said it as if it was obvious.

“Suddenly I have to go. Bye, Johnny.” Nia lied, even though she was laughing at the dumb joke. Obviously, she didn’t hang up, but the two of them did go silent for a couple of minutes while they decked their virtual penguins in fancy clothing.

“Alright, when you’re ready, I’ll be at the Pizza Parlor in the third booth.” Johnny said on the other end of the line.

“You’re not going to come to my igloo to pick me up? Chivalry really is dead.” Nia tisked sarcastically. 

“Shut up and just get here.” Johnny snorted.

“Fine, fine, I’m on my way.” Nia opened the game’s map before selecting the Pizza Parlor as her destination of choice.

“Are you StanNCTCowards?” Johnny chuckled.

“Yeah, what are you?” Nia asked, trying to find his character.

“NiaSuxToes.” Johnny responded, sounding proud of himself.

“Classy.” Nia huffed in amusement.

“Is it wrong to say your penguin looks hot?” Johnny questioned as his penguin slowly waddled over to Nia’s.

“It’s more concerning than wrong.” Nia tilted her head.

“Well,” Johnny said. His penguin made a little heart emoji. Nia responded with a barfing emoji.

“Hey! I’m confessing my love to you!” Johnny protested.

“You only like my penguin for her looks.” Nia pretended to be offended as she had her penguin move away from his and into an empty booth. “Date cancelled.” 

“Wait, let me serenade you to win back your heart.” Johnny pleaded. Nia watched as his penguin moved to the microphone on the stage at the parlor. A green music note floated above the virtual character’s head, making what sounded like a fart noise.

“Dude!” Nia burst out laughing. “Why did it just queef?” “That’s how he says I love you!” Johnny said through laughs of his own.

“Okay, fine. My penguin is impressed. Let’s wrap this date up.” Nia said.

They spent the next fifteen minutes pretending to eat pizza and pelting young children with virtual snowballs. When they had enough, they both logged off.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that probably was the best date I’ve ever been on.” Nia said, closing her laptop.

“Does this mean we get a second date?” Johnny sounded hopeful on the other end of the line.

“Absolutely. Next time I’ll wear my good wig.” Nia chuckled.

“Next time we’ll go to an actual Italian restaurant. Like in real life.” Johnny promised. Nia bit her lip to prevent herself from making an embarrassing noise.

“Okay. I’ll still wear my good wig though.” Nia said, joking to make herself not scream out with glee.

“I’ll wear my best sunglasses.” Johnny responded, chuckling deeply. “I gotta go. Good night.”

“Good night.” Nia said, hanging up the phone and flopping backward onto her pillows, a permanent smile stretched across her face. 

[watchtheblog]

petty cache

thank you for coming to read my diary which masquerades as a blog but is actually just a vessel for disseminating my birthday wishlists. it’s like an event you show up to where the host tries to sell you a timeshare 25 minutes after some requisite, mindless song and dance.

welcome! if you’d like purchase a timeshare, scroll to the bottom. for the song and dance, look no further:

the other day i zoned out on zoom therapy and when my therapist asked where i “went” i had to lie because i had gone to the part of my brain that holds all the things i need to think about forever for no reason (i call it the petty cache — this is an umbrella term for the space that also houses my attitude cabinet) and dusted off a memory of a comment i saw on a stranger’s facebook three weeks ago that said “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”.

i don’t know either person, and that’s what i was thinking about. i spend $[redacted] a month on therapy and instead of focusing on one of my numerous unsolved mysteries, i was thinking about the nuances of this comment - like why they wouldn’t just share the news or message the person directly? or what losing their password had to do with anything? or why they would comment on facebook instead of texting or calling the person. did they not have their number? imagine not knowing someone well enough to have their phone number, but still wanting to share your good news with them!

all i want (for my birthday) is to know what the news is that this stranger has to share, and i’ll never know so i have to put that comment in my minutiae repository with all the other things that will plague me until i die from texting and driving, smoke inhalation as a result of purposely leaving a candle lit in my home overnight almost every night, consuming half a dozen hot dogs a week, or a now unnamed disease that will posthumously be attributed to my chronic inability to mind my own business.

i’m constantly concerning myself with things that are none of my concern - no matter how insignificant - because my brain is a commune of sentient pepperoni running instagram polls among themselves to discern if something is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about. and guess what? it turns out absolutely everything that has ever offended, confused, bothered, intrigued, slightly inconvenienced, or merely happened to me is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about.

because i devote so much energy to nonsense, i can often be found persecuting strangers for insulting me on the internet (and for other miscellaneous bad behavior). the information superhighway is my home so i have to protect myself (and my friends) here, and if that means spending 45 minutes to 48 hours trying to find every misstep you’ve made in your life until i have enough ammunition to spray a dozen simulated retaliatory bullets at your virtual head because you called me a “stupid bitch” on instagram, well… so be it!

i am relentless in my pursuit of wasting time, so if that doesn’t work, i will find the cold stone creamery you frequent, seek employment there, be hired on the spot, learn the craft, be promoted to manager, poison you on your birthday, gain access to your funeral, and tarnish your reputation by reading your shitty DM in front of the few family and friends whom i haven’t already made aware of the abhorrent way you conducted yourself online!

there are so many different ways strangers will try to hurt your feelings — an interesting genre of which come from men who (like me) have definitely never had sex before, and mistakenly think i care about the ways in which my body does not make them horny.

“no tits” one will say. and i’m like, how do you want me to respond to that? my boobs are indeed small, yes. did you come here to shoot facts back and forth all day? ok: you’re going to start balding way sooner than you’re prepared for, i bet your childhood dog is dead, your time on the internet should be supervised, your closet is full of vests, and you wait on line at nightclubs… good day?!

while i will obviously engage with anyone if they want to fight, i prefer when the unsolicited criticism is personalized, and not just thoughtless, lazily devised tripe.

a year and a half ago, a man who looked like he exhales smog DMed me to let me know - among other things in a paragraph long rant - he’d “lost brain cells” watching my story. knowing he had likely never had an adequate amount to begin with, it seemed like an emergency, so i started a group DM with his wife. because his message had come just three days after a “fuckkk [heart eye emoji]” response to a photo of my ass, i included a screenshot as evidence of his devolving mental state.

being - presumably - gainfully employed, neither of them responded.

luckily, the consolation prize for insulting me is that you gain residency in my brain and stay in my thoughts and prayers for all eternity, so i checked in on them a few days ago. they’d unfollowed and wiped their feeds clean of each other!!

because i’ve never “moved on” in my entire life, i fired up our long dormant group chat, and sent my condolences: “aw. sorry your trip to positano - where you were going to attempt to repair your ramshackle marriage - got cancelled because of covid and so you just got divorced instead :(” i wrote before being blocked by both of them. 

then i headed right over to my therapist’s facebook and commented “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”

i spent an entire therapy session detailing this monomania before my therapist thoughtfully suggested i “pick [my] battles”.

to which i thoughtfully responded: yeah, babe. i pick every single one.

                                                        ***

timeshare time! it’s the same list as this post, with a few additions (at top) (and edits based on availability).

places to donate food education fund pretty brown girl the okra project

some furniture stuff a side table  a pointless, laughably tiny little thing this website is calling a “drink table” a lamp one of these benches i do not want this but it’s important to me that at least 2 other people know it exists

this plant that obviously does not need to cost $165 but idk how to shop economically

air pods

gifts from the previous post - all still v much in play!

a pair of shoes (size 8 or 38) one pair, another pair, yet another, these are on sale, these are not, and a final pair

a specific clutch with three color choices they allege this color is called sand but it looks white to me, pink, green for those who do not know what malachite means (it couldn’t be me. i learned it 3 hours ago when i began compiling this cursed list)

something everyone with money to waste needs this

dresses i’ll never be able to wear until there’s a vaccine because unlike someone tacky who knows me, i won’t be having a birthday party in the middle of a global pandemic (hi, you fool) white polka dot, not white polka dot, also not polka dot, a red dress, a skirt (aka half a dress), a black dress

this sweatsuit xs in this, small in this

is sephora cancelled? i want this hair dryer which i’m sure you can buy elsewhere if sephora is cancelled, which it v well may be

this item which you may think is cheap but actually it’s not soooo a hairpin

earrings one pair, another pair, and another

this dress which i’ll never wear anywhere even when there is a vaccine because… what?! but maybe. you never know. size 34. lol when i get this far into the list i’m always blown away by how insane it is that i do this every year to no audience. so i’m just laughing alone at that. :) i am v funny to myself. another dress i’ll never wear ;)

the nicest weighted blanket you know of i’m depressed!!!!! if you can’t tell!!!!!!!

every year i have asked for a weekend bag and every year i have not received one, so alas, we try again this is not a weekend bag actually but it will do. this is!

a peloton but just venmo me the cash (@merce212) because i have a hookup

an assortment of ridiculous things a $500 body scarf a $580 beach towel with an octopus on it for no reason besides “art” i cannot tell analog time but it’s never too late to start!! how mad would you be if someone bought you a roulette table for your wrist? be honest. (THIS WATCH IS FOUR YEARS RENT!!!!!!) they won’t say how much this costs :( i’m losing my mind and must be gifted a chanel watch or else i will perish. to put my salami on when i am eating salami in my bed “24k gold crocodile [?!!) teddy bear”. the website says there’s only one left, which begs the question “why did someone buy one of these rather than buying me a chanel watch?!!” *real ‘billionaires shouldn’t exist [unless they’re buying me a watch]’ energy* to put my new watch in this is ugly but it’s on sale :) idk wtf “secret box pendant” means but i wish this necklace was also a USB with every season and spinoff of 90 day fiancé on it hi yes i’m stupid but i draw the line at $1500 connect four…