#like you can see how that statement is fucking bizarre right?

[greensaplinggrace]

"you never see darkling fans being alina stans! there aren't any feminist darklina shippers! lesbians and poc would never like something so immoral!" girl what on earth are you fucking talking about. don't make me tap the fucking sign.

[scientia-rex]

I feel like disappointment in Biden is baffling to me because he was always a disappointment. He was the asshole who got to ride to power on the coattails of a better man. He told bizarre and repeated lies (despite getting caught at it and his team telling him not to) about having a Welsh coal miner dad when he did not and he stole that story from actual Welsh people. I read a profile of him years back that pointed this out and told the story of the time he straight up ignored good advice from an expert not to plant a certain kind of tree too close together and flew a bunch of them out to plant, at night because he was just too fucking excited about it, and they all died. He’s not a smart man! He’s charismatic ish and lacks principles and as far as I can tell doesn’t really care about abortion rights or a lot of things we’d consider pretty critical to preserving freedom. I sincerely thought he couldn’t become President because there were so many obviously better candidates in the pool. I underestimated the sexism and antisemitism in American politics, and when he became the candidate in 2020 I gritted my teeth and voted for him because the alternative was a man who is not only an idiot but also profoundly dangerous. Trump is not ha-ha crazy, he’s Mussolini crazy. He is not dangerous because he’s stupid, although that doesn’t help; he’s dangerous because he does not care about anyone except himself under any circumstances and if that means he lets the far right push us straight into forced birth for white women and sterilization for women of color he’s going to do that. If that means conversion therapy for queers and death penalty for homosexual acts he’s going to do that. He has literally no limits. If he gets back into power, a whole lot of people are going to die, again. It’s not a hypothetical because it happened the first time and he’s only going to get worse.

I am not, never have been, and never will be a fan of Biden. To pretend that he and Trump are in any way equivalent is wrong at best and another goddamn Russian psy-op at worst. To pretend that a third party candidacy is viable in the US is to completely ignore every election of your lifetime and your parents’ lifetimes, and to further ignore the lesson of Ross Perot.

You cannot save Palestinians by not voting for Biden in November; the best you can do is chip away at his margin, and the worst you can do is see Trump elected so he can decide to do the worst possible thing in ever circumstance. Biden has Palestinian blood on his hands and watching this when we could have had Bernie or Elizabeth Warren instead is maddening. (I would have preferred Hillary to Trump, but I don’t think she’d be any different than Biden here. They’re both old-school politicians.)

I hate everything about this, and I hate that saying “maybe don’t put the man who literally said he would kill his political enemies in power” is seen as supporting genocide. It’s acknowledging reality. Joe Biden as a person can eat rocks for all I care. I was kind of hoping he’d die sooner in his term so we’d have time to get used to and then vote for President Harris. (Remember when the line was “she’s a cop, don’t vote for her”? Funny how there’s always a reason not to vote for a woman or a person of color or someone you just “don’t like” and can’t put a finger on why except she “seems angry.” Oh does she. How would she not? When Michelle fucking Obama, the picture of grace , STILL got called angry for having the nerve to be a Black woman with an opinion? When Hillary Clinton lost to a man with no political experience to her decades and who openly discussed sexually assaulting women? Would you have voted for President Harris? Or would you let Trump win again because you don’t LIKE her personally and she’s made decisions and statements you disagree with?)

Biden has both less power than his critics give him credit for and more power than his fans give him credit for. He needs to do more to pressure Israel and although it’s a delicate diplomatic situation I’d rather see us fuck up our diplomatic relationship with Israel than watch more Palestinians get murdered for things like “wanting to eat” and “existing.” The line has been crossed, and he doesn’t see it. Because he wasn’t the best person for the job. Because they didn’t get elected, because of sexism/antisemitism/racism. Hell, I have no idea what bootlicker Pete Buttegieg would have done here, but I’d have given him a try. But no. We got Biden and we’re stuck with this reality where you can be as leftist as you want and still have to look at the situation and decide whether you’re comfortable contributing to a Trump victory through inaction. I want socialism—I want every single person on Earth to have clean drinking water, enough safe food, shelter, medical care, and education—and I’m going to vote for Biden, pissy as it makes me, because the only actual alternative is so, so much worse, for me personally as both a woman and a queer, and for everyone in America and the rest of the world who Trump would find reasons to hurt. What do you think the man who openly and repeatedly praises dictators is going to do when those dictators massacre their own people? Yes, we need to care about this genocide now. We also need to care about all of the other people who are at real risk, both at home and abroad. Would a Trump government agree to fund military intervention in Haiti without insisting on it being a colonial exercise in power? Would a Trump government roll back the restrictions on discriminating against transgender patients in healthcare? How would Trump respond if Orban started dragging people into the streets and shooting them en masse? How would Trump respond if China finally went for it and invaded Taiwan? There are more lives at stake here than mine or yours or even those of the Palestinians, who have deserved better for literally decades and are being mass killed in ways that should result in immediate sanctions, a war crimes trial, and the execution of Netanyahu.

The world deserves better from you than complicity in a Trump victory.

[cologona]

The thing about Bruce making Dick Robin is that it can be read as empathy. Bruce and Dick both lost their family in the same way, and so Bruce tries to help Dick by giving him what he wanted as a young orphan. Justice, closure, power, meaning. Something to make the world right again, some way to move forward, someone who understands.

But that same reading is not as easy to apply to Jason

If I were to read Bruce in a particularly unflattering light, I'd say Bruce fundamentally saw Jason as more expendable than Dick. He was so afraid of losing Dick that he totally sabotaged that relationship, but he's fine with this much younger kid playing the same dangerous role? Jason is a tough street kid sure sure, but is he tougher than 18 year old Dick motherfucking Grayson??? No.

If I were to read Bruce in a more sympathetic light, I'd say that in Bruce's mind orphan = craving-for-justice-that-can-only-be-satiated-with-vigilantism, and since he found out Jason's father was dead he was trying to give Jason the same guidance and empowerment Dick got. He genuinely thought it would work. He did this at the same time that he was actively hiding the death of Jason's father, because this intense self-projection is happening at the subconscious level. He simultaneously wants to comfort the orphan and prevent the orphan from becoming "real" by hiding the truth. It is not logical but it is well-meaning.

(This self-projection is also the source of Bruce's bizarre assertion that Jason has anger issues- he isn't a classist asshole he's just sensitive! 👉👈)

Either way, there is clearly an instability to the concept of Jason's Robin. Batman and Robin requires suspending one's disbelief about child soldiers to degree higher than other superheroes, but there's not quite enough to support that suspension here.

Because how exactly is being Robin supposed to help Jason? What about Jason's supposed anger issues lend themselves to being helped by vigilantism? Jason could've just been Bruce Wayne's son, so why is he also Robin?

...Would Jason have just been Bruce Wayne's son?

I.. don't think so. I don't think Bruce adopted him just to offer a good home- not really. Bruce certainly wanted Jason to have a good home, but that's what sending him to Ma Gunn's school was supposed to be. Ma Gunn didn't work out sure, but it's not like she was the only option. Bruce could've just done more research the second time around. If Jason had rejected becoming Robin, would Bruce have still adopted him? If Batman had not intended for Jason to become involved with hero work, could you see him still sending Jason off to Wayne Manor to be adopted?

Bruce didn't just want a son, or even just a Robin. He wanted something specific- he wanted the feeling of having Dick back. Bruce praises Jason for how similar he is to Dick in his head, and based on Alfred's warning and Jason's own behavior, he apparently compared Jason to Dick quite a bit during training. When Dick himself eventually comes to confront Bruce about why there's another Robin, he pretty much lays it bare: Jason is Robin because he missed Dick. That's the core of it.

Now on one hand this is flattering for Jason! It means he was chosen for the Robin mantle because he demonstrated the good qualities similar to the original. In another universe maybe Jason Todd's Robin isn't the angry one or the dead one, maybe he got to develop and he could've become the Robin that came from sharing laughter and life rather than grief. A Cinderella? A little lotus boy.

On the other hand that's not the universe we live in and this reason has absolutely fuck-all to do with Jason.

As for Tim, parentification is straight up the basis of his Robin. It’s impossible to read his “Batman needs Robin” spiel without reading it as a meta statement because in-universe it’s just an extremely frgiggi depressing scenario.

I think Dick might be the only person for whom Bruce's intense self-projection kinda worked out. Not that their relationship was good, but the core of it was okay? Cassandra comes close but Bruce sorta… lives out his dreams of being all-Batman all-the-time through her. He pushed his bad impulses onto her and she didn’t understand the value of not being Batman so it came off really creepy. He was encouraging her to rely him. Like a tool.

[nsharks]

candied ginger | simon “ghost” riley

words: 2715

plot: on the way home from getting groceries, simon starts touching you.

tags: fingering, vaginal sex, some fluff, “situationship” but he’s warming up to you, a line of breeding kink, fem!reader

Simon likes the strangest flavors of ice cream.

The ones that always took a few stores to find.

"No, no," he grumbles when he looks over the refrigerated selection. "They don't have it. It's not here."

You nibble at your cheek. "Babe, maybe you could just pick something else?"

He's already giving you a deadpanned look, hands slung deep in the pockets of his jacket. "I could die next month, pet. I'm gettin' that bloody ice cream."

Face twisting in a wince, you sigh, "Okay, we'll find it. Can you not say things like that? About you dying."

"Just a fact," he states gruffly, as if he really couldn't see how the statement might bother you. Sometimes Simon said things like that so casually that it made your stomach tie into a knot.

You find the ice cream he's looking for at the third store you try. Candied ginger. It's bizarrely specific, but the way he groans in relief and his eyes manage to light up, even for a moment, is enough to make the hunt worth it. You know in a month, he will be stuck with military ready-to-eat's.

Having Simon home for only a few months at a time meant you really cherished the small things. Like grocery shopping with him. He'd always push the cart, mask on and hoodie up, and you'd tease him about all the little kids he was scaring with his attire. The two of you always wrote the grocery list together, but you'd be the one to decide the route through the store and he'd follow behind right you. Of course, when you got home, he always insisted on carrying everything. All at once. Somehow managing to hold five or six bags of groceries at a time.

"Let me carry that," he would tut at you if you ever tried to grab one. "Before you drop it all."

You also cherished the drives with him.

So, when you're on the way back to his place, groceries and ginger ice cream in the trunk, you find yourself watching him intently. Simon's scent is heavy due to the close proximity- a natural musk mixed with bourbon and an ever-present hint of gunpowder. His hand rests on your thigh while he drives, somewhat possessively, with the pad of his thumb rubbing thoughtless circles.

He's got his hoodie on, but as he holds the wheel, the sleeve falls just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the swirls of ink and the veins running beneath them.

You'd never seen his face or his body fully, and yet you'd never been so attracted to someone.

"You're staring, pet."

He gives a small squeeze to your thigh.

Blushing, you place a hand over his.

He glances over at you briefly before looking back at the road.

"Christ, I love when that happens to ya," he says, his voice just a tad lower.

You blink. "What?"

"Your cheeks," he elaborates, "They get all red sometimes."

"They do?" you ask, and you're certain you can feel them getting redder, especially when he steals another slow, lidded look at you.

Simon hums out a yes. "Whenever you're embarrassed," he says, thinking to himself. "But also whenever you've been properly fucked."

Your cheeks turn into flames now and you don't have to peel off his mask to know that underneath, his face is impassive and unfazed. Meanwhile, your abdomen clenches and the car suddenly feels stuffy. His hand, warm and rough, rubs against your thigh and you shift around in the seat.

"Simon..."

He shoots you a look. "Don't tell me..." His hand inches down between your legs, slipping under the waistband of your sweats just so he can quickly touch your underwear. "No way, pet. You got wet just from that?"

Simon is mocking you. Teasing you. He huffs out an unimpressed breath and slips his hand back out.

He is fully aware of the effect his words have on you, and he revels in it.

"Got to work on your self-control," he drawls out, giving a few taps to your thigh.

The flare from your cheeks seems to travel to where his hand had just grazed over your underwear. Even though his touch only lasted a second, it was enough to make you hold your breath and press your hips against the seat, looking for some sort of friction down there.

Simon still isn't looking at you, focusing his gaze completely on the road, but his hand is still on your thigh and it seems to have its own mind. It grips and prods around your thigh, playing with the flesh of you like you're a stress ball of sorts, before he moves to cup you over your sweatpants.

The palm of his hand is big enough to cover the entirety of your cunt. He applies minimal pressure just to frustrate you, like toying a string in front of a cat, and you can't help but rock your hips into his hand to seek more.

"Fuck, Y/N, do you even listen?" he scolds instantly, and you imagine that's the voice he uses when he's speaking with his subordinates. "What did I just say about self-control?"

"M'sorry," you mumble. His hand pulls away from you for a long moment as a punishment. You let out the breath you were holding and wait for him to press it against you once more. This time, he applies more pressure, digging the heel of his hand into the spot where he knows your clit is hiding under the layers of fabric.

"Rock yourself against it," he orders quietly, never looking away from the road even when he hits a red light. "Use my hand, go on."

You are grateful for the permission. You begin to drag your hips slowly, rocking them so that your bud of nerves presses into the heel of his hands with each movement, the friction causing you to grow damper. It's such a familiar feeling. Your cunt lengthening within you, growing its own heartbeat, just to make you feel frustratingly empty all of the sudden. It's a feeling Simon manages to incite effortlessly.

"Good girl," he offers you a piece of praise, but it arrives in a thick and taunting voice.

You know that he knows you're starting to ache for him.

But he doesn't offer any comfort through your frustration other than leaving his hand in place for you.

"C'mon," he growls at the road, as if not paying any mind to the girl riding into his palm. "Bunch of slow fucks."

You want to yell at the cars yourself. The drive home takes longer than it normally does, and it feels like the universe is mocking you. As if to make matters worse, Simon finally slips his hand into your sweats, past your underwear, and glides a long finger slowly between your folds.

“Oh,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut. You know he feels it. How terribly slick you are.

His fingers rub over your clit with the pressure he knows you like. You’ve been together (in this “situationship” of yours) for over a year now, and Simon has used each time you fucked as an opportunity to concentrate on what exactly makes you tick. He’s studied you like an enemy. Like a building he was preparing to stakeout. He knows now that, as much as you love your clit played with, you prefer to be filled and touched at the same time.

It’s when you grab your own breast over your shirt, imagining that it was his hand, that Simon concedes into giving you more.

“Greedy,” he says under his breath, finally looking at you for a moment because the sight of you touching your breast and palming it, your eyes fluttered shut, is driving him crazy.

He replaces the fingers on your clit with his thumb so he can ease two digits into you. He doesn’t bother giving you the time to stretch around them, knowing how slick and eager you already are. Rather, Simon shoves two of his fingers and elicits a throaty moan from you that makes his cock twitch.

“You like to have it all, don’t you?” He fucks his fingers into you, and you meet each movement with a buck of your hips.

You nod, eyes closed. “Are we… almost home?”

And by home, you meant his place, which you found yourself residing in whenever he was here.

Fingers still pushing into you, the squelching sounds of your approaching orgasm fill the car. Your hand is still touching your breast because it adds to the intensity of it all. If it wouldn’t compromise your lives, given the fact he was still driving, you might have asked him to reach over and play with it for you. Your small fingers and gentle touch didn’t compare to his rough hands.

“I’m not fuckin’ you when we’re home unless you cum on my fingers first,” he informs you. The words are enough to make your hips buck wildly, his thumb flicking over your clit. Simon is drowning in the sounds of it all. He thinks he is obsessed with making you writhe and squirm.

Your orgasm reaches you just when he pulls into the driveway. Your walls tighten then relax, a flood of warmth and wetness coating his fingers as you clamp a hand over your mouth and whimper into it.

“Good girl.”

Simon turns of the ignition. He presses his fingers into you slowly a few more times, helping you ride out the pleasure, before he draws them out and gives a proud tap to your cunt.

“Made a mess all over the seat,” he shakes his head, noticing how you’d soaked through your sweatpants.

He’s a bit gentler with you now. Instead of teasing and ordering you around, he gives a squeeze to your thigh before getting out of the car. You want to ask what he’s doing but your answer arrives in him coming around to your side, opening your door and picking you up. Limbs weak from your orgasm, you melt into his arms and press your head into his chest.

The gentleness ends when he pads into the house, kicking the door behind him, and takes you to his room. He tosses you on the bed, quite literally, and only stops to kick off his boots.

He’s feeling impatient himself. A whole car ride spent with his cock suffocating in his jeans.

“Take off your clothes. On all fours,” he tells you, and it’s an order you are quick to follow. Whenever he orders you around outside of the bedroom, you can’t stand it. You tell him he’s not your lieutenant, he can’t make you do everything he wants. But in here, when you’ve got your ass perched up for him, you are nothing but obedient.

You hear the clink of Simon’s belt and the shuffling of his jeans and briefs before he is inside you with one swift motion. You are filled to the brim and past it, your hands gripping the blanket. His hands first hold your hips in place, keeping your squirming to a minimum as he pounds into you. Your head squishes against the bed and you’re just barely able to steal a glimpse at him. He’s still clothed, as he usually prefers it, and his eyes are lidded and dark.

Simon had had sex before you. A few times, here and there. But he never actively sought it out, even when he was at a pub with his team and they’d try to encourage him into getting laid because “it’s so much better than your hand, Ghost”. He never agreed with them. Especially when he had such negative memories associated with it. Sex used to feel like a bit of a chore. A means to letting out his pent-up frustration and forcing himself to relax for the few seconds after he’d finish.

But with you, Simon finally realized what they’d all been talking about.

He’s able to relax with you, more and more each time. He’s able to enjoy every little reaction he gets from you. He’s obsessed with how he can just mention fucking you, and you’ll get all hot and needy for him. And although he’s never taken off all his clothes with you, because he’s not ready for you to see all the scars and faded bruises and ugly left-over wounds, he loves the little bit of skin-to-skin contact he does get.

Right now, it’s just his hips thrusting against yours ass. Cock surrounded by your warmth.

Simon finds himself marveling the way your soft ass fits into the shape of his hips. Fuck, were you made to fit right there? He moves his hands from your hips to your bum, palming and grabbing like he can’t touch you enough, before he moves to grab your hair with one hand and lift your head up from the pillow.

His mind had been sent into a frenzy during the car ride. Though he was good at hiding it with impassive eyes, Simon was just consumed by you as you were him.

He decides, as he runs his free hand up and down the length of your back, tummy, and thighs, that he really wants to feel more of you. Feel you in ways he doesn’t normally let himself feel you.

Maybe he’s getting more comfortable around you ever since telling you he cares about you.

Uncharacteristically, you feel his hands leave your body for a brief moment, making your feel cold in their absence. “What-“ you almost question him, but when you glance back, you realize that he is tugging off his hoodie.

He’s still got his cock in you. His thrusting doesn’t relent even as he surprises you by tossing his hoodie to the floor and moving to peel off the grey shirt he’d had on underneath. He’s undressing? You nearly moan out loud from the realization of it, not just because his newly revealed chest is thick and toned and inked with tattoos, but because this is a little glimpse in the trust you have built with him. Slowly, but consistently, Simon trusted you more and more.

Once his shirt is off, Simon reaches for you again. He wraps one burly, veiny arm around your body and lifts you up so you’re sitting on your knees. Now, his chest pressed into your backside and the warmth from his skin is instantly shared with you. This is the most skin of you’ve ever felt, bare and warm and surprisingly smooth despite the littering of scars.

“I’m going to cum inside you,” he murmurs in your ear. His arm holds you tight against his body, squeezing your breasts. The other arm of his wraps around to play with your clit. You’re close, too. The muscles of you tightening around him.

Simon finishes just before you do. He buries his masked face in your neck while the flood of his release fills you up and pushes you over the edge. You sigh pleasurably, sweat-tainted skin causing your hair to stick to your forehead and cheeks.

Moments pass before Simon is carefully laying both of you down, still not pulling out. His cock acts as a plug, keeping his seed inside you even as your bodies move to spoon each other on top of the blanket. He lifts up his mask just to plant a small kiss to your shoulder blade before he finally slips out of you, tucking his dick back in his briefs and zipping his jeans. He’s not completely naked. Still has his pants on, but you finally think maybe that could change soon.

“Don’t want to waste this,” Simon says, pressing his fingers to your cunt to keep the warmth from leaking out. It makes your cheeks flush and you melt into his bare chest.

You’re almost about to comment on his body. You want to tell him you think he looks beautiful, scars and all, but instead another thought enters your mind.

“Simon,” you gasp quietly. “The groceries. The ice cream.”

“Fuck.” He gives a little smack to your used cunt and sighs. “Well, I got it. You stay here… keep my cum in you, yeah?”

____

[daceydeath]

A Work Proposal (Part 3)

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Word Count: 2.6k Genre: Smut Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), vaginal fingering, oral (F receiving),

You had been working with Stray Kids for a while now and after a long day at work turns into a very unexpected but intriguing proposal. Will this change your world or end your career?

The following days you weren't able to spend on the music video shoot you had problems left and right with higher management not wanting to sign off on things until certain meetings were concluded and magazine shoots that had to be reorganized because of schedule clashes. It was a chore but it was your job so normally you wouldn't have minded the chaos, but when you had mentioned to them that you wouldn't be at the next few days they had looked a little disappointed which made you feel guilty. However, the next thing thrown at you was going to make everything much harder for them and you.

"Chan I need to speak with all of you, let me know if the dorms or the studio is better for you and it is going to need to be ASAP" you left the message knowing he would probably panic about what it was about but there was no way you were going into details on the phone, what if his messages got hacked.

Dating scandals were always going to be part of the landscape of K Pop and they always would be but this level of members being involved in one at once was going to be a pain in your butt. Still as stupid as it seemed to have to talk to them about the whole thing after you had signed a contract to fuck them at their leisure seemed bizarre. While you were getting lunch you phone rang and before even looking at it you knew it would be Chan.

"Hi Chan" you sighed sipping at your iced tea.

"What's up? you seemed really down in the message" he asked casually but you could tell his voice was tense.

"Have you seen the latest rumors?" you whispered hoping no one could overhear you.

"No....why?" he seemed genuinely confused by your question.

"Well they aren't great I need to talk to all of you and prep a formal statement for the company by tomorrow so I can come to you all or you can come to me" you replied honestly hoping he wouldn't stress too much.

"Fuck" he muttered and you could tell he was pacing from the sounds around him "Come to us if you can. We should be finished here by 7"

"I'll see you at the dorms then, it's not career ending stuff so don't stress to much but it is important" you tried cheering him up knowing it was useless he stressed about pretty much everything all the time anyway.

You had gotten to their dorm a few minutes before they had and immediately noticed how tired they all were.

"Hi sweetheart" Changbin smiled noticing you waiting for them.

"Did you have to wait long?" Minho asked smiling tiredly.

"No, only a few minutes and I'll make sure this is fast so you can all eat and rest properly" you apologized as you followed them into the building. Gathering them all in the lounge area you took a deep breath before continuing knowing that they were not going to be thrilled about these latest rumors.

So I don't know if you have seen them yet but the dating scandal that's about to blow up isn't great, Chan you have been linked to Lily which I know is stupid since she's so young and its a sibling like thing between you, but Hyunjin and Han have both been accused of dating fans and sending them pretty intense messages" you explained gently noticing how Chan and Changbin's jaws both tightened and Minho looked furious.

"Now I know they aren't true that isn't what I am here to discuss, I've seen the texts and the images and they are pretty graphic so we need to hit back with the big guns" you continued noticing how they all relaxed a little at your words "I'm going to suggest we start a lawsuit against the people who started this bullshit and then also have each of you confirm what wording you want me to use for you denials, again I suggest really strong worded denials to keep the public onside as much as we can"

"You don't think they are true?" Han murmured softly "Like you aren't even going to ask us to explain anything you just know they aren't"

"Yeah I think its all garbage, I'll admit I don't know you as well as your members do, but the texts and photos are borderline pornographic and I know you would never send messages like that" you smiled at his as reassuringly as you could.

"But what if we do send flirty texts and stuff to someone were interested in?" Hyunjin asked frowning slightly.

"Then I know you would send them in a smarter way than this" you smirked trying again to lift the mood, you were going to fix this for them and you were not going to let them stress over it by dragging them in front of higher ups to prove it wasn't them when you knew it wasn't you had already started the whole denial but you wanted their input to make it sound more like a personal statement.

"Minho and I will come in with the two of you when it needs to be explained to the upper management guys" Chan smiled leaning over to squeeze Hyunjin's thigh.

"That's not going to be necessary Chan, I've already done that you wont have to front them" You again smiled while you went back to typing quickly " Ok this is what I have written so far, read through and tell me what you want me to add". Chan took the tablet almost grinning at you, he read it quickly before passing it down to Han and Hyunjin to read.

"Yeah that's good" Hyunjin smiled shakily and Han nodded along.

"You don't need to worry so much Hyunjin" you soothed taking the tablet back from him to place beside you, and take his hand in yours "I'm not going to let them put you on hiatus again, I'm not going to let them put Han on hiatus either it will be fine" you could see the worry in his eyes and it annoyed you that total stranger thought it was alright to cause him pain for no reason. "Now go all of you rest, I will take care of the rest".

You had headed back to the office and had the statement run through legal before making a formal police report about the slander and harassment and then you sent it out to every news outlet, gossip site and social media you could. Hopefully by the time the boys had all woken up it would be a 180 degree flip from the vitriol that was expected to be rained upon them. You texted Chan knowing full well he would not be asleep to let him know you would be late in the next morning since it was already after three in the morning and went home to rest yourself.

You woke the next morning late and started getting ready for you day ending up making yourself coffee in the kitchen when there was a knock at your apartment door. You looked through your peep hole as saw a large bunch of flowers with legs making you instantly smile, opening the door you realized it wasn't just a delivery it was Hyunjin holding the flowers tightly looking a little nervous.

"Hello Hyunjin" you beamed at him as he handed the flowers over wordlessly seemingly lost in his head "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you" he whispered following you in as you closed the door behind him and took the flowers to the kitchen to find something to put them in.

"These are beautiful Hyunjin, thank you, you really didn't need to get them for me though" you were still smiling as you sniffed their beautiful perfume and gently touching the petals.

"I hoped you would like them" Hyunjin finally said his voice still a little tight "I wanted to say thank you for looking out for us so much, and for believing us, well me" he admitted softly smiling at you.

"I will always look out for you, I would have thought you all knew that by now, at least based on the latest developments" you bit your lip shyly hoping you wouldn't seem to forward bringing it up. Hyunjin grinned at that stepping so close to you that he was almost touching you, raising his hand he softly took your chin between his fingers forcing you to look up at him wetting his lips with his tongue.

"Princess" he breathed against your skin making you shiver under his intense gaze "I want you, can I have you?" you were too caught up in his presence to even answer so his slowly lent in pressing his lips to yours in a delicate kiss before pulling back to look into your eyes again.

"Yes" you whispered your eyes flicking between his eyes and his perfect lips making him smile brilliantly before claiming you lips again in a slow sensual dance. Letting go of your jaw his hand instead came up to cup your face his touch almost too gentle for you to bare, his other hand pulled you against him as he lazily continued to kiss you.

"Where is your room princess? I want you comfortable while I worship you" he sighed leaning his forehead against yours making you melt against him in anticipation. Pulling slightly away you took his hand in your and led him through your apartment to your room where he once again pulled you against him to kiss you once more. "I'm going to make love to you princess for as long as you will let me".

You gasped softly feeling your skin heat up which he took advantage of tipping you head back slightly so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against your slowly, teasingly while he slid his hand down to your hip to hold you against him. Wrapping your arms around his neck you let him take the lead in how fast he wanted to move, feeling warmth pooling inside you with each brush of his plump lips against yours. Agonizingly slowly Hyunjin's hands made their way around your body making you whimper against his lips.

"Oh is my little princess feeling warm under my touch?" he teased sweetly unbuttoning the blouse you had put on for work "How about we rid you of some of these layers then hm?" pushing the fabric from your shoulders and down your arms to fall to the floor.

His unhurried actions gave you time to savor him, the darkening of his eyes, the reddening of his lips, the neediness of his touch it was intoxicating as so different from Chan or Changbin.

"Chan said you feel perfect but that no one has treated you properly" his words were hushed like he knew you were under his spell and didn't want to risk breaking it.

"Yes" you whined quietly as his lips returned to yours his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth to massage your own. He backed you towards your bed carefully to keep you from falling before gently lowering you both to the soft sheets. His hands continued to roam across your skin squeezing and massaging you skin, your own fingers skimming the bottom of his shirt and lightly running your fingers across his abs and the waistband of his pants.

"May I?" he asked sweetly undoing your jeans and dragging them leisurely down your thighs and calves to drop them beside your blouse.

"Can I see you?" you purred looking up at him innocently making his eyes widen before creasing up into little crescent moons.

"Of course princess" he murmured easily slipping his shirt over his head and letting your fingers trace his skin again. He continued to kiss and caress you preparing you for what was to come, kissing his way up and down your body only to miss the areas you wanted him to. You almost cried out when he gingerly began grazing his long beautiful fingers against the crotch of your long soaked underwear.

"Can I begin now princess? Do you think you are ready for me?" he smirked against the skin of your neck lightly mouthing at the skin there.

"Please Hyunjin, my god please" you groaned making him smile as he deftly pushed your underwear aside and began stroking you wet slit, gathering your wetness he circled your clit a few times before dipping just the tip of his finger into your entrance and feeling no resistance, he allowed him self the first whine of pleasure.

"So wet princess, I can't wait you make you come all over my cock but first let me spoil you" He muttered against you lips as he languidly slid two of his fingers into your core tenderly thrusting them and curving them at just the right angle for you to writhe against him in moments. He coaxed your first orgasm from you faster then you expected by pressing his thumb against you clit making you buck against him all the while his mouth devoured your moans and whines until you threw your head back almost screaming his name. He slipped his fingers from you bringing them to his lips to suck clean.

"Delicious, can I continue?" He asked watching you panting wide eyed and you nodded desperately "Good" he grinned lowering himself between your open thighs, taking one in each large hand he looked to your face before agilely letting his tongue go to work on your dripping core, carefully focusing on long slow strokes of your clit and gentle sucks and nibbles with his magnificent lips suckling at you with desire. You could feel your whole body burning as he once again sucked his clit between his lips humming around it as your fingers found their way to his head grazing his scalp with your fingernails and tugging his hair slightly.

"Hyunjin, please, I'm so close" you mewled trying to grind your hips to vigorously into his face but he just growled holding you open further sucking harsher on your clit and finally biting at it is softly as you began to come undone again "Hyunjin...Hyunjin....oh fuck Hyunjin" you called again and again until you felt light headed.

You could hear him chuckle as he wiped his face on the back of his hand bringing himself back up to you lips as he easily slipped inside you, your walls were still quivering with the intensity of your second orgasm but it only spurred him on as he continued the languid pace he has set earlier thrusting into you gently before pulling almost completely out of you again. Unable to contain your quiet moans he smiled down at you resting his weight on his elbows as his hips driving his length into you brushing places you were sure you had never been touched before.

"You are perfect princess, perfect, so tight and wet and perfect for my dick" Hyunjin moaned finally taking his own pleasure from you his hips speeding up as he pounded his cock inside you heard and deeper making your eyes roll back in you head. "Can I come inside you?" he gasped as you squeezed him with your swollen walls.

"Yes, yes, yes" you chanted making him speed up again as he began to lose his tempo as he approached his own climax. You could feel how close he was so you squeezed him again wrenching another perfect groan from him.

"Fuck princess" he gasped as he spilled his seed inside you leaving you both a panting and sweaty mess. Resting his forehead against yours he sweetly pecked the tip of your nose.

"I forgot to mention Chan asked for you to have the day off so you aren't going anywhere princess" He grinned lazily kissing you again.

A/N: Thank you for all the support and likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated you lovely people you xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @symptoms-of-moonlight, @septicrebel, @ayoitschannie, @krishatumblernow, @tangerminie, @elizalabs3, @armystay89, @septemberkisses,

[utilitycaster]

i feel like for the critical role trauma thing i HAVE to ask about caleb even if that’s a subject that’s been talked to death. i’m also super interested in your thoughts on Yasha in this conversation

The thing about Caleb is he is very visibly not okay from the get-go. He has a mechanical penalty to killing humanoids with fire which we see very early on. Then his backstory came out pretty much in full quite early as well. And before I continue, I want to stress: I really love Caleb as a character. I think his story is fantastic. He is hands down my favorite Liam character. He is complicated and difficult and sympathetic and heartbreaking.

He also garnered some of the most unbelievably toxic type 2 (ie, "um he is traumatized and can do no wrong?") fans I've seen in my LIFE, and many of them were also mixed with the "there's only room for one traumatized person in this d&d party and therefore whoever fits my idea of What Trauma Looks Like and/or whoever I personally project onto the most is the winner." I'm talking people actually getting on my posts and saying "why haven't the Nein stopped all the pesky adventuring and world-saving they're doing and taken him to Duasad Keef (an NPC only mentioned in the EGTW at the time, ie, post hiatus when the plot pretty quickly went to Eiselcross and stayed there, whose methods of therapy would actually probably be triggering for Caleb and who was probably well out of their paygrade and frankly unlikely of anyone else in the party to have heard of)." Those people have largely left because they hated that Caleb decided the best revenge was doing what he could to heal and living well and ensuring no one in the future would suffer as he had, rather than murdering the entire assembly and presumably dying in the process, but man, they left a mark.

There's definitely his detractors too, and I have no patience for the "ewwww sadboy attention hog" people, many of whom were either of the "I am feeling uncomfortable when we are not about Beau?" variety or that bizarre cohort of people who just fucking hate Liam for reasons I have never been able to fathom, but I'm not going to lie, as someone who likes Caleb a lot, the fandom response was rough because there was definitely a noticeable faction who really just did not accept the idea that basically everyone in the Nein had some degree of trauma. The High Richter Heist is a great example. Fjord holds Caleb at swordpoint for deviating from the plan. We later learn that while Caleb is acting from his trauma (trying to collect as many books as possible to achieve the purpose that is frankly his main reason for living at that time), Fjord is just as much acting from his (was very recently betrayed by Sabian deviating from the plan in an all hands on deck situation, stabbing him, and blowing up the ship leaving everyone, Fjord included, to drown). The infamous Bowlgate, not long after, is also a similar case of Beau and Caleb's respective traumas clashing. It's why Campaign 2 is so good, but man, it really is a litmus test if someone's like "actually Caleb is objectively 100% right in either of these situations;" you know you're dealing with either an idiot or someone who can't conceive of the possibility that trauma isn't a competition that Caleb has obviously won.

So, with that, Yasha: I think Yasha is tough for a few reasons. The first is that she wasn't around a lot early on, so while we learned the basics of her backstory in episode 46 we simply didn't see how she reacted in all situations. The second is that the fandom is specifically really fucking bonkers about people whose romantic partners die young; see again how people were like "see? Orym would be happier dead with Will!" like that isn't the kind of statement anyone with a brain would be MORTIFIED to say. So there was some of that with Yasha. I think the extent of what happened with Obann came up in a pretty dense arc and only got unpacked after the fact (and once Ashley was at the table regularly). And finally, Yasha got a lot of hate from shippers that was not strictly related to her trauma but did sometimes include it. So she's an interesting case of "trauma not so much ignored as frequently misconstrued or taken in bad faith to support interpretations barely related to Yasha herself, compounded by the fact that you had to read between the lines to understand her trauma in the first place."

[accirax]

initial thoughts on DCAS episode 12

on another episode of "making myself sad about Grett," we learn that Grett has learned to interpret any general statement as an attack on her appearance/person. fuck you, Yul. and also Grett's family.

so true Connor

heheheh, i called that it would be to/at alternate Gabby >:)

oh nice, Connor is one of those cool CEOs that takes pay cuts in order to give his employees higher wages--

WHAT

why are you running like that you fucking nerd (/aff). i don't even have to specify who because it's just that apparently bizarre.

totally makes sense that Alec is fine with Riya "winning immunity" because she'll just give it back to him. he's got his head in the game as always.

i always love to see the villains scheming, but this may actually make more sense for Riya than her current real plan. Alec has been proving time and time again that he's good at, like... everything. everyone should be really worried about him winning if he makes it to the end. i don't know if Riya could beat Ally either (because i don't know what the challenge will be), but she should be thinking about taking Alec out before the endgame. although, she does have to worry about taking him out in a way that won't leave a grudge, given that Alec has proven that he won't root for a former ally just to be petty.

Usain Bolt is now canon to the DCU. no, not that one.

wow, Gabby really is Tumblr Girl! (/j)

at first i thought Alec might have been buttering Connor up in this scene in the hopes that Connor would simply give him the immunity if Connor won it. it's true that Connor probably would have given it to one of the heroes, though, just for strategy reasons. still, this is not helping any hopes Alec has of rekindling a friendship with Connor.

i do NOT trust food made by Marcus and Nina.

just admit that you're besties, you tsundere fool.

i'm not trying to argue that Derek is the greatest dude on the planet or anything, but, notably, i feel like this is one of the only times we've seen him look genuinely sad.

this is a funny speech conclusion from the millionaire guy.

i guess??? this is the reason???? why they were targeting Gabby?????? i'm still confused, honestly. can we take this as a soft confirmation that Tom and Aiden never believed in that idol Gabby lied about having?

you do not understand how worried i was for the sake of my power rankings at this moment.

yay, we finally get to learn what the updated tiebreaker policy is! looks like it will be going to a head-to-head challenge instead of doing a Survivor-style revote -> rocks. Still can't believe that we had a tiebreaker and Yul didn't lose it, though.

KING BEHAVIOR!! god, i wish the DC winner was determined by jury vote. Alec has absolutely played the game most deserving of winning thus far. then again, if there was a jury vote at the end, people probably would have started gunning to take him out already. so, maybe i should be grateful.

i'm glad that these two have made up, both because Gabby needs and deserves more friends than just Ellie in her life, and because it shows how Gabby has grown as a person. instead of just wanting to get revenge on those who have personally wronged her, she wants to use her passionate heart to target those who are making others' lives miserable.

about time!

"if i can't spend time with my gay crush, you can't either!"

i still don't think i've actually processed that Tom won't be in the next episode. like, damn. it was a good choice, though. if they were going to send a hero home, i'm much happier to see one part of the love triangle get axed than have Ally randomly go out.

i assumed something like this would happen, but i was not expecting them to actually visibly kiss. yay for the... krisrek shippers? if they exist?

poor guy :/

another episode that i'm pleased with! ... but how the hell did Yul not go home?! it's got to happen next week, right? like, i know that Alec is a genius or whatever, but it's not like the entire season can go his way. the villains will have to fracture someday. until then, though, uh, #villainsweep. still rooting for Alec, even if i think Jake will win. see you next week!

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Have you read the NYT piece on Taylors sexuality? Would love to know if you have any thoughts?

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/04/opinion/taylor-swift-queer.html

I didn't think it was a good piece - and I think it was wildly inappropriate for anyone to write that for the NYT or the NYT to print it.

The piece is far too long and because of that length it has many contradictory ideas. This is probably best seen through the fact that it seems to want to argue that reading Taylor Swift is queer is legitimate (it's possible to do a great version of that article), present proof that Taylor Swift is queer, and argue that it's a problem that people aren't reading Taylor Swift as queer. Given current understandings - it's impossible to make a coherent argument for all these at the same time and the arguments frequently undercut each other.

You can see this in the many false endings of the piece there's a paragraph above the picture of Taylor in her reputation outfit - which is basically 'queer readings must be seen as possible'. Perfectly fine ending, reasonable thing to say. But then the last section opens: "I remember the first time I knew I had seen Taylor Alison Swift break free from the trap of stardom." And the certainty is never undermined, even though the argument is incredibly flimsy (basically there is only one possible understanding of Hits Different).

The Hits Different argument - which doesn't seem to consider the possibility that the narrator could be talking about herself with the line 'argumental antithetical dream girl' is part of a really unsophisticated reading of Taylor Swift's work. The reference to anti-hero - which turns the sexy baby/monster on a hill into a statement about how she's supposed to look rather than how she feels - simplifies the song massively.

The fundamental problem (as is so often with these sorts of pieces) was that this was someone whose thoughts had been developed in fandom and was responding almost entirely to fandom discourse. Fandom works in binaries - there is only one legitimate reading and therefore in order to prove your argument is legitimate you need to show that other readings aren't. But that's definitely not a cultural discussion of queerness and celebrity. It reads to me like she's not self-aware enough to separate what she desperately wants to say about fandom, and what is a cultural argument that is appropriate for this forum.

**************

And I disagree with some of the really basic premises of the argument - that she's too cowardly to make explicit - which is that outting is OK.

Taylor Swift has not come out - and this article includes a list of reasons why this person thinks she's gay - and ends with a claim of knowledge.

Lets stick to basics - if you think there's reason to believe that a celebrity was going to come out and didn't - then it's totally OK to talk about that with your friends. It's not OK to write an article about it in the New York Times. If someone doesn't

Likewise - the point of queer coding is that only people who are familiar with queer culture will pick it up. It's a fucked up thing to do to translate queer coding to a wider audience - because the whole point is that the person doing it only wants to speak to those who know.

One of the bizarre things about the article is that it seems to take as a starting point that things only exist if they're talked about in the New York Times. It asks the question about what queer people who see queer themes in her work are supposed to do and suggests the answers are: "Right now, those who do so must inject our perceptions with caveats and doubt or pretend we cannot see it (a lie!) — implicitly acquiescing to convention’s constraints in the name of solidarity."

The idea that the only options are lying or talking about why you think a celebrity who is not out is queer in the pages of the NYT is completely bizarre - and erasing so much of queer culture. Speculation about the sexuality of prominent figures is definitely queer culture - but not done on broadcast - done within queer communities. To me that so invalidating of what happens within queer friendships and queer communities to say that the only options are lying or stating your opinion in the pages of the New York Times.

There is nothing wrong in seeing queerness in Taylor's life and work. There's nothing wrong with talking about the queerness you are seeing in Taylor's life and work - even for major publications. But the certainty - the idea that your responses are only valid if you can prove that you're right about someone else's experience - I think that's damaging for the person that is making the argument, the person they're talking about, and queer culture more generally.

[autumnbrambleagain]

honestly miss me with any magic system that doesn't describe the qualia of what it is to use magic in that system

oh what in DnD you "study and write spells in a book" and "read the spell each morning" okay what the fuck does the spell look like. what does it feel like to cast a spell. why does it require intelligence why does it require research.

it's why in UWi academic magic (academagic) works on every spell being a literary essay on reality as fiction making some kind of point of why something should be possible and its conclusion statement is how you cast the spell. you recite the argument to the World and the World goes "hmmm, well argued, that broken teacup is now repaired again"

magic in ancient mythology was never really a metaphor for academic 6-year colleges they didn't have that until fairly recently as a concept and learning and education was always a separate track from magic which was always

emotive, innate,

in the Oldenenen Tymes a wizard didn't study 30 pages of nonsense and then they could control your mind, a person Was Magic and could control your mind

but also magic was religious rituals you performed to get a god's attention,

but also magic was folk rituals and superstitions, if you put a horseshoe on your door a fairy can't get in; if you had a stick in the right shape you could find water

modern post-tolkein wizards are so fucking BORING. oh yes i went to magic academy and learned magic so now i can do three spells; fireball, laser beam, and flying. when i level up i can arbitrarily learn bigger fireball which i can't learn right now for no explained reason.

it's why in uwi like why can't y ou cast high level spells early on? because you're starting off with high school level literary essays and then you're trying to jump into fucking Derrida. you can't do it my man you are just starting to cast spells like "id/ego/superego symbolism in lord of the flies" and you aren't jumping from that to "the author as unconscious writing machine vs. art as a lens for the viewer" in one day you gotta know what you're talking about

uwi's academagic is basically a parody of post-tolkein magic systems but also a parody of academia but also a functional system of how you can do magic through literary essays it's fun it's fine. like most of the things we do it's a deconstruction a parody a satire a commentary on things

the fucking bizarre DnD dissonance of magic being the rare thing owned only by the few who have the brain for it but also you stumble over magic potions and scrolls and weapons constantly

but gandalf mcellminster over here's level 3 and he can cast 3 magic missiles a day what the fuck does that even mean. why is all your magic ways to kill people fuck off

there's two settings we keep working on internally and one is a failed succession metasetting where the "magic" is "we are all self-aware self-narrating concepts being poorly moderated by the world consciousness; time and verisimilitude is broken and effect follows cause only by convincing argument. everything we do is magic. i forgot to give myself the need to eat and until someone presents me with sufficient symbolism to counter it i don't need food at all."

and the other is a more grounded fucked up glamtasy world where magic is "which kind of magic there's like 800 different ways you can do weird shit which weird shit can you do and how are you doing it"

the worldbuilding anyway should only be a part worldbuilding only exists best for when it's to tell stories with but the worldbuilding itself can be part of the story when it's a commentary a reference to a greater literary body and itself part of that commentary

which is also how magic works in uwi

i have a fucking masters degree and this is all it's good for anyway if you read this make sure to comment bob's gang below and like rate and subscribe and we'll see you next time on animal crossing channel

[inkedmyths]

S1: E9 "Home"

Alright its been almost a month time to stop procrastinating this

Ohhh ~crunchy~ video quality

Oh a classic monster in the closet situation

Surprised the lady didn't get like dragged in right then and there

Its wild bc obviously in real life there's never anything in the closet but this is Supernatural in which case ofc there's something

Its not rats! Its something worse!

THE CHAIR. ITS MOVING. RUN KID

WAIT WINCHESTERS

H U H

0oh Sam and his ~prophetic dreams~

Me when someone's trying to talk to me as I'm drawing

Sam I feel like you should just say you're having spooky dreams

THERE we go

Dean did not sign up for his little brother being a psychic

Dean shut up its road trip back home time. Bitch.

THE CAMERA. THE MUSIC. THE DRAMA. This is so funny SPN is a soap opera actually

[ Crepe says that no one can handle Sam's bs in a calm and controlled manner. My opinion is no one can handle any of the Winchester's bullshit in a calm and controlled manner. ]

Awkward but I mean ok

Waiting for the kid to say "There's something in the closet"

YEP

Bros just yelling at each other bc they are so normal about this

Dean is so so bad with his feelings huh

[ Kayla asks if I am just realizing this. I am not. I was merely repeating a statement of observation. It seemed relevant. ]

Walks away bc he didn't want Sam to see him showing an emotion

NOT THE FUCKING CYMBALS MONKEY

NOOOOO

NO DONT STICK YOUR HAND

Oh I am not watching the screen no thank you

[ Kayla finds this reaction funny because "We've all been there". This is fair. And I know the man is just trying to do his job. However, he is, unfortunately, in an episode of Supernatural. If you are a random background character in an episode of Supernatural, you should never stick your hand in a thing that has many sharp blades. ]

I know where this is going to go

YEP EURGH arm smoothie

DUMBASSES THEY'RE PRETENDING TO BE COPS INVESTIGATING THEIR OWN DISAPPEARANCE

I feel like they would get farther is they just walked up to people and said WE'RE SAM AND DEAN

[ Melon says that we should play a drinking game, in which every time Sam and Dean do something stupid, you take a sip of a drink. Forst of all, I am still a year away from being able to consume alcohol legally. Second of all, this sounds like a surefire way to get alcohol poisoning. ]

Oh ofc. Psychic time.

"Your wife if crazy about you!" Turns around "His wife is banging the gardener" Incredible

LMAO CALLING DEAN A GOOFY LOOKIN KID

Oh shes good. Interesting

Sam as she's yelling at Dean is just :D

This poor lady its not her fault that the guy got blended

Yes something is starting. A TV show

UH OH

Is it giving the kid juice. Whats the deal

Oh its shutting him in the FRIDGE

UH OH

THE FRIDGE

MA'AM BEHIND YOU THE FRIDGE

OPEN THE FRIDGE

Thank god

NOT THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHED

She's so much smarter than either of the bros

I have a sneaking suspicion the firey spirit is their mom or something

[ It is at this point that Crepe has no concept of how not to spoil an Ep and says I'm right. I figured, the plot beats seemed obvious, but come ON. The less you spoil the funnier my reactions will be. Let me enjoy my incredible powers of prediction in due time. ]

Oop there goes the lamp

Uh oh there is attenpted murder via flying objects

WOAH

Flashy light

MISSOURI MA'AM ARE YOY OKAY

Oh good

Holy cow that was something

SORRY ABOUT YOUR HOUSE THE GHOST DID NOT LIKE US

GET THE MOP AND DONT CUSS AT ME

There's like 10 minutes left what's gonna happen next

SHAKING

Is Sam outside oh yep there's the bros

go go go

FLAMING FIGURE

Oh bye bye Sam

DOOR SHUT how drama

Oh hes just getting punted

OH HI

Ur not on fire anymore whats up

Ghost fight! Ghost fight!

Oh yeah tragic sacrifice all that Sam buddy she was already dead

Alright so Sam is on some kind of bizarre spooky journey

AHA. THE BASTARD

YOU. MOTHERFUCKER

OLD MAN WINCHESTER WHATS YOUR FUCKING ANGLE

[ Episode ends. Crepe said it would be funnier if I added in the other's commentary. Kayla agreed. I hope this appeases you both. ]

[aspenwriter]

Boysmell, Chapter 2

(CW: Smut)

After a few hours relaxing in Alex’s pocket, Alice decided to peek out.

Alex was resting on his back, and apparently sleeping. They were, also apparently, on Alex’s couch. The same couch they had both used while marathoning series or playing videogames, now was like the throne of a god. Alice had to balance herself against the rhythmic ups and downs of Alex’s chest as the giant boy breathed in and out, and admittedly, it was harder than expected.

Alice decided it was enough of resting already. She was, for some reason, barely inches tall and while she appreciated Alex’s help there was no excuse for delay now, as her entire life was in jeopardy. With great difficulty, Alice crawled from Alex’s chest to the boy’s face. 

If anything, her greatest distractor was Alex’s aroma. The soft musk of sweat and cologne he always had was intensified by several orders of magnitude hare, on this scale. It was now strong, and basically the only thing that Alice could smell now.

“Oh there you are sleepyhead!” A familiar yet booming voice came from in front of her.

 

“Alex?” Alice asked to his giant friend “You were awake?”

“Aha!” he said. “I just like, wanted to see you crawling in my chest and all…” He giggled. Even at this scale it was cute when he giggled.

Alice laughed. “Don’t make me crawl if I don’t need to, you dumbass!” She said.

“Aw, there’s no fun in that.” Alex said, with an obviously fake and dramatized sad tone.

Alice laughed again. Alex laughed too. Alice had to really put a great deal of effort in not rolling over Alex’s chest. She was grabbing her friend’s shirt as it was the only way for her not to fall over.

When they finally stopped, Alice took a long breath and said “It’s so good to have you helping me out on this.”

“No problem!” Alex responded “Doing my part!” he said, with a fake military salute.

Alice took her time to accommodate herself on her best friend’s chest, crossd her legs, and asked.“So, what now, Alex? We should get some help”

“Well, there is no need to go find help just yet don’t you think?” he answered.

Alice was baffled by that statment. What the hell was Alex thinking? Was this all a big joke to him? Where was his sense of urgency? “WHAT?! ALEX LOOK AT ME!” Alice said, pointing at herself. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm SMALL!”

“Hey, hey it’s ok” Alex said  “I know this is hard on you, I know this is weird and bizarre and unexplainable and we’re going to look for help but why don’t we like, chill for a bit?”

“What do you mean?" Alice said, still baffled at her friend’s characteristic relaxed attitude even in such situations.

“I mean you’re so small right now… isn’t it exciting for you?” he said.

“I don’t see how this could be fucking exciting, Alex”. Alice said.

“I get it, I get it, I really do but isn’t it amazing to see the world from this new perspective?” Alex said with a smile. “You’re probably the first person in that condition. You’re seeing things no human was ever seen before, you can do things no one has ever believed could be done!”

“I suppose you’re right…” Alice said. Maybe it was just that Alex wanted to cheer her up. Maybe he just wanted to put a positive spin on this horrible day. What could go wrong with a little positivity in her life? Alice felt almost guilty for screaming at him. Alex was doing his best to keep her morale up.

“Yeah! There's like, sooo many fun things we could do right now!” Alex said, cheerfully. 

Alice felt admittedly a little nervous by that statement. Not because she distrusted Alex as a person, but she distrusted, at least a bit, his definition of ‘fun’. Of course there was no harm in trying to do something fun at her size but what was Alex thinking of? Meekly, she asked:

“L-like what?”

“Like this! Watch!” Alex said.

A giant hand came from her left to grab her. It was so fast Alice didn’t have time to protest, resist or even gasp. Suddenly, she was trapped on a warm fleshy box of fingers and palm. Alex, on his part, jumped out of the couch with her best friend tightly secured in his hand and gently dropped Alice beside his feet.

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE SOOOO SMALL NOW!” he said, like an excited little boy.

Alice suffered a little vertigo and some dizziness from changing environments so fast, and by looking up at his friend’s giant form like this. It was very different from their first encounter as shrinkee and man, as Alex was resting on a bench. Now, at his full height, he truly felt like a massive, walking and breathing skyscraper.

“Let’s play a game!” He announced.

Alice still hadn’t stood up as she tried to respond “What kind of game?”

“Cat and Mouse!” Alex declared.

Alice was well aware of the implications that choice of game had. Fuck. She really couldn’t get mad at Alex. After all, if any person had to find her while she was just some inches tall she was thankful it was him. But still, he could be a little more comprehensive with her situation.

Alex was a giggling giant. He jumped back, making Alice trip and fall to the floor again as she was just standing up. And then he said “ON YOUR MARKS”

Alice wasn’t ready.

“SET”

She had finally stood up. Like an animal, she instinctively looked for hiding spots, cover, anything that could help. The couch? Yes she could go under it as long as-

“GO!”

Alright, there was no time to think. Alice ran to the underside of the couch as fast as she could. But all it took was Alex taking a single, loud step for the tremors it made to make her trip and fall.

Alice rolled over her back to stand up quickly, but Alex was already over her. She waited for his hand to snatch her out from the floor, instead…

Alex's sock-clad foot came down on her. Alice's reflexes acted up and she covered her face waiting for the worst. But obviously, her friend had no intention of crushing her. Instead, his foot gently pressed her against the floor, pinning her down, and preventing her from making any movement.

It wasn’t Alex’s foot that was bothering Alice right now. Not his foot per se. It was the smell of the foot.

Alex had clearly worn his shoes all day and it showed. His socks were soggy and dirty and all around her was the smell of sweat trapped within a shoe and a sock. Even if Alice squirmed and pushed, there was no way for her to realistically take it off from her.

“Take this of me now!” She screamed up. Unintentionally opening her mouth and letting the humid fibers of the sock in for a brief moment. It tasted horrible, bitter and salty. Alice dreaded the fact that Alex could have noticed it.

“Uhhh, don't wanna” He said, with a lightheaded tone.

“ALEX!” Alice screamed again. Although this time with just a little bit of genuine anger in her. 

“Ok, ok! No problem!” Alex said, gently removing his foot and looking down mockingly on his best friend laying on the floor, a sight that made him giggle like an amused young boy yet again.

Alice took the first chance she got to try to rise up from the floor. It was a nice attempt, but Alex just shoved his foot right back in. Again, he used little force. A mere touch  was all it took to make Alice fall back down on her ass again.

“Sorry!” He said “It’s just so much fun to see you down there like that!” He said, and honestly, Alex was speaking the truth here. Watching her best friend pinned down, hopelessly fighting for release against not him, but just his foot, was the most amusing thing that Alex had seen in his life.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY, ALEX” Alice shouted at him. Now, she was definitely annoyed by her friend’s teasing attempts.

“Aw come on, it really is” Alex said, pouting. “You’d do the same if I were tiny, you have to admit this is really funny”

“IT 'S NOT!” Alice said.

She gave up. Alice stopped squirming and pushing and fighting to reflect on her position. Alex was merely teasing her, that was right. But he was just so much more powerful than her now. If he had wanted to, he could have crushed her like a bug several times over. 

And then it sank in. She was powerless. She depended on Alex for everything now. Her life was entirely reliant on his whims.

Alex, above, felt how Alice suddenly stopped and removed his foot to reveal her friend curled up and crying. Concerned. he backed off and dropped to the floor on his belly, in a position that best allowed him to look Alice eye-to-eye.

“Look, I’m sorry if it got out of hand, it’s just kind of irresistible” He apologized.

Alice cleaned her tears with the sleeves of her dress, and took a big breath. “Don’t worry Alex, I guess I’m going through a bad moment, that's all” she said, still depressed.

“I’m sorry, again” Alex said with concern in his voice “Do you need me to do anything for you?”

“I need you to get help!” Alice said. “Just look at me! I don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know if it’s even possible for me to grow back! We need to get someone! A scientist or a doctor or anyone!”

“That’s going to be a bit of a problem” Alex said, backing off a little “you smell like feet right now. I believe you should clean yourself up a bit before going to meet anyone else, it would be a bad first impression if you roll up smelling like some dirty socks.”

That was very much true. Alex’s smell had somehow stuck to her. It was everywhere in her dress, hair, and face. 

“I smell like YOUR feet because of YOU!” Alice shouted at her friend. “You should be the one finding a solution!”

“Well… I can help you smell nicely right now!” He said. “Although you probably wouldn't like it. The thing is, I've been chewing mint gum all day, you know?

Alice connected the dots immediately. “Oh no, don't you da-”

Alex, in an almost feline motion, lunged forward to grab Alice with his mouth. Only her kicking feet were out of his body, and he promptly pushed them in as he stood. He wasn’t lying, his mouth did smell nicely. 

“ALEX!” Alice said. “LET ME OUT THIS INSTA-” and again, Alice was interrupted by Alex’s mouth. His tongue, acting as a bathing sponge, licked Alice’s entire body. From her feet up to her head, Alex spared no place from his tongue.

He went back to the couch, playing with his little prey on his mouth. Alex moved Alice from cheek to cheek, between his teeth. Covered her entire body with his saliva. He even took the care to give Alice some brief moments of respite to catch her breath.

After a few minutes, Alex opened his palm right below his mouth, and gently dropped her friend from inside of him, covered in a blob of mint-scented saliva. Alice’s hair was a mess now, and her pretty dress would need a wash later, but she was otherwise unharmed.

“There! Now you smell like fresh mint!”

Alice had cried a lot while inside Alex’s mouth. It wasn’t that she felt violated by him, not at all. It was all too frequent among the pair to grab each other unannounced and to sleep together occasionally. Intimacy among them was no taboo.

No, Alice had cried because there was nothing she could do to stop him.

But right now she wasn’t crying. As her mess of a saliva-soaked body tried to find her footing in Alex’s palm she just laughed nervously.

“I guess we can look for help now?” She asked

“First we wait for you to have an actual bath, silly” 

[sparkling-moonbeam]

💜Scaramouche x Reader💜

A/N: This is an idea that suddenly popped out of my mind so I decided to write it. The reader is gender-neutral and this is a fluff. Enjoy reading and have a nice day!

Oh and there are some curse words cause it's Scara.

💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜

Being a harbinger is something you can’t be fully proud of. At least, that’s how you feel upon staring at the badge the Tsaritsa gave you. But you don’t really have a choice, you can’t just pass an opportunity of making your life a bit easier. Even if you try to deny the offer, your head would be a target for the Fatui. Surviving in the cold weather of Snezhnaya is already a pain in the back, you don’t want to make it worse.

Your job as a harbinger is really simple. You seldom cut someone’s throat as you’re more often assigned in “gathering information from the inside” type of missions. When it comes to highly secured territories, you’re the one to take the lead. You don’t need assistance or anything as you mostly take the act you also planned and set it in motion. Maybe it’s from the experience of once working in front of many people, wearing a mask to suit everyone’s taste, pursuing them to trust you.

As the Tsaritsa told you, you’re competent. A people pleaser like you can read people so easily that one look can immediately give you an inference on the personality you will need to portray on your target. When it comes to finishing someone, you do it quickly. As soon as you got their trust, it was also the time to sing them a lullaby to their own doom.

A sigh escaped your lips, being a harbinger sets you in the boundary of everything. It always felt like you’re in between of opposing arguments. It’s thrilling but also confusing, maybe it’s just your morals kicking you in the guts but it’s too late for that. The moment you bow down in front of the Tsaritsa’s throne, it was all gone.

“I never knew a deaf could be a harbinger.”

Your eyes shifted from your badge to the source of the voice. The sixth harbinger, casually hanging out in your office’s couch. He must have entered your office while you’re busy paying attention on your thoughts.

“Do you have any idea how many times I knocked on your door? I would’ve thought you’ve been killed in your office if I didn’t know you any better,” he continued.

“I’m thinking about important stuff, I didn’t notice.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t even bother to apologize, how rude.”

You blinked at him, staring to his eyes. Scaramouche, or also known as Balladeer has been the one to always barge into your office like it was his own for the first months. The first time you met him was just like this, except the fact that you’re working on paper documents that time and he didn’t knocked, he just barged in. You remember how he didn’t ask your name and where you from, just straight up gave the file the Tsaritsa wanted to give to you, informing you with a bunch of small insults here and there before leaving and slamming the door.

Your first thought was maybe he didn’t like you or your impression, not that it matters anyway. Until you found out that he also does that to other harbingers, especially when he’s having too much to work with in his plate.

“You know, no matter how long you looked at that badge, it won’t disappear.”

You look at the balladeer with his statement. He stood up, slowly walking towards your table as he crossed his arms. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this since it’s disturbing my thoughts, are you really…chickening out? After being here for so long, that’s quite disappointing.”

You let out a scoff at his question, your eyes narrowing at his glinted eyes. You know how Scaramouche is, the way he works with his words to initiate tension. You won’t fall for it but still you wanted to admit how well he can cause tension and get away from it.

“You’re asking…me? What happened to your ‘good intuition’, the sixth harbinger?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “That’s more like you. I just hate how you always look at your stupid badge every time I see you, it irks me.”

“That’s more like your problem, not mine.”

“I hate it still, so I will need an explanation.”

“Wow, is this manipulation 101?”

“Y/n.” He sternly called your name, his eyes softening a bit. “I wanted to know if something is bugging your mind, I’ll help if I can.”

You remained silent as a sigh escaped your lips. You reached for the file you’re supposed to read a while ago if only you didn’t space out. “It was nine days ago..”

He hummed urging you to continue. He sat down on the chair opposite to yours, waiting for your next words.

“When I learned something about a certain topic, it’s…quite bizarre.”

You looked at him seriously, his indigo orbs meeting yours. You can see how his trying to listen…how his patience is slowly thinning out on your slow words and his own pretention.

A smile formed your lips. “Gaslighting. Oh, what a bizarre topic and thing to do, right Scaramouche?”

You dramatically placed your hand on your chest as you gave him a look of pity. He clicked his tongue before standing up, fixing his hat in the process.

“Fuck you and your stupid badge.”

You laughed. His visible frustration is entertaining, especially when he cussed. Something about his cussing words just hits deeply, you can’t help but laugh.

“I waste my time for this stupid shit. I should’ve known.”

As he took a step away from table, you quickly stood up, reaching for his hand to stop him. He looked back at you with an annoyed expression. He was about to slap your hands off him but he stopped as soon as he heard you talk.

“Wait, alright. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not half wrong but..I get the glimpse of what you’re trying to do. Just sit down. I promise, no more jokes.”

It took a couple of seconds before he spoke up. “No more fucking jokes.”

You nodded. He let out a sigh before he propped down on the chair again. You sat again too as you compose yourself.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You bit the insides from your cheek to prevent yourself from chuckling. That’s more like him, you thought.

“This badge isn’t mine, dumbass.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it from an agent? A traitor perhaps? Just say the word and I’ll finish them off-”

“No need for violence, it was from a harbinger.”

His eyes widened a bit. “Did you…killed a harbinger? Y/n, that’s not how you raise your rank. You’re a trai-”

“I didn’t kill someone, why are you insisting that?”

He shrugged, leaning on the chair as he hums. He must have been playing with you as a revenge from earlier. What a child.

“It’s from a harbinger that’s been bugging me. Not in a bad way,” you cleared out before he can even decide to say a violent statement again.

“Bugging you but not in a bad way? What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

You mentally facepalmed, of course he wouldn’t know. He probably never felt that way for someone too. Now, you’re rethinking your decisions on telling him. Time for a more direct approach.

“I think I like someone.”

Silence.

You were replied by silence for almost a minute before a chuckled erupted from him. You shook your head as you listen to his laugh.

“You like someone? And you stole their badge because you like them? What a creepy move, are you a stalker?”

You rolled your eyes before you stand up, holding the file on your arms. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll need to submit this file before dinner time, bye.”

As you held the doorknob, you can still hear his laughter from your back. Maybe, you’ll tell him some other time but, you promised yourself. You even practice on the mirror on what to say, it’s ridiculous. Your eyes landed on the badge. Every time you look at it, it reminds you of the glint in his eyes then you’ll see your reflection, making you ask yourself on how did you get yourself into this.

“Hey, Scara.”

You turned around, his laughed slowly stopped as he looked at you.

“Remember the camp last month?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you asking me about such a horrible day.”

“Childe accidentally took your badge then replace it since you were pretty mad that day. It won’t be a good result if you’ve known he touched some of your belongings.”

He blinked. “And you didn’t tell me? That rascal, good thing he know what will happen.”

“I actually found it so here you go.”

You hummed, taking a last look on the badge before you throw it to him. He easily caught it with one hand, staring at it for a second. You saw how his eyes widen a bit before glancing at you again.

“This badge…is mine and what you said about it earlier…”

Your throat felt dry the moment you meet each other eyes. You tried to smile, forcing yourself to formulate some words your mind came up with.

“You’re making me feel complicated things, it’s unfitting for a harbinger.”

[darkorderaf]

Can I request kiss prompt 16 with mjf set when the inner circle was in Vegas?

Oh, this is a very fun idea. This is a nice little cocktail of shitlord!Max and soft!Max. I took some creative liberties with their time in Vegas. Thank you so much for sending, I hope you like it!! <3

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompts: A kiss that isn’t meant to happen but it does anyway. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: Angst and fluff! Some drinking. Word Count: 2,633.

(I don’t own gif; credit to cowboyshit!)

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Believe it.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“Like, a lot. I deadass hate the dude.”

“I know, Sammy.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and set her hands against the bartop. From the first proposal of the Inner Circle going to Vegas, Sammy complained. It hadn’t gotten any better now that they were actually in the city. The situation wasn’t great but it was what Jericho wanted and which of them was going to tell them no? At least Wardlow seemed decent enough. He didn’t talk much and hell, that was all she could ask for. She could use less talking lately.

“Sammy, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. Her hand curled tight around her glass. “We might as well just enjoy what we can, alright?”

Sammy frowned and folded his arms as he leaned against the table. Her words seemed to help for the time being. Satisfied that they had, she threw her drink back and rubbed at her temples. They had been away from the table too long and she could already feel her phone vibrating. She clapped Sammy reassuringly on the back and the two made their way back to the blackjack table.

“C’mon, Spanish God. It’s just one night. We’ll be fine.”

---

When the boys drank, they drank. Shot after shot after shot. She had to admit that she was impressed. MJF held his own with Jericho but he was feeling it and she could tell. They stayed longer at the place with the dancing girls that she forgot the name of but she didn’t mind that. It gave her some time to think to herself, appreciate the show from afar unbothered.

“You don’t belong here.”

Or not. She mentally prepared herself with a few deep breaths before she turned around. There he was, in his purple pastel suit glory. In MJF’s endeavor to earn the trust of the Inner Circle, he had been persistent with all of them. She tried not to notice that closely behind Jericho, she was the one he seemed to flock to most. The corner of the club she sat in was away from the red light that covered the rest. The fluorescents overhead made it easier to see the warm flush to his face that the booze brough on, the slight shadows under his eyes. She didn’t know where those came from. He leaned against the bar and took a long drink. She eyed him.

Was he getting enough sleep?

Better question, why was she worried about MJF?

Wait, what did he just say?

“Hi,” she said as she idly swirled the straw in her drink. She jutted her chin at the girls. “Care to explain what you mean by that? I think the club’s fine and the girls are putting on a hell of a show. I like it here.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

“That’s,” he paused and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t belong here. With the Inner Circle. With them. With Jericho.”

Her eyes flashed and she sat up straight. Narrowed eyes met his and the muscle in his jaw worked. If he was frustrated, she felt it tenfold.

“Oh? And you do?”

“Please, just give me a second and listen to me.”

MJF wasn’t someone that struggled to communicate how he felt or what was on his mind. As far as she knew. Then again, how much did she really know him? She gestured for him to sit in the stool beside her and he took it. He undid the top button of his suit and ran a hand through his hair. He looked borderline unkempt. Vulnerable, even. Her spine softened and she slowly sipped at her drink.

“You’re--” He held onto his drink, sucked in his bottom lip, then ran his tongue along it. “You’re too good for them. I’m up here--obviously--you’re here, and then they’re down there. Do you see what I mean?”

He explained with one hand low and the other above his head. He placed himself higher than her by a slim margin. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he leaned down to really exaggerate it. The backhanded compliment made heat creep up her neck, her face. She didn’t see herself better than the others of the Inner Circle but there were times where she wondered about going on her own. Even just for a little while. She kept to herself more lately, telling the guys it was fine if they didn’t accompany her to her matches. It would make it easier when she did decide to leave.

If she did.

“Wow,” she said, her brows lifted and her tongue pressed up against the sharp edges of her teeth. “You really know how to compliment a girl, Friedman. If you want a show, it’s over there. I’m not doing this with you.”

She turned away, effectively shutting off the conversation. Her spine straightened again and she caged her drink in with her forearms. MJF didn’t move from his spot beside her. Clearly, he had something on his mind. Max dropped his forehead into his hand then straightened himself back up.

“Max.”

“What?”

“Can you call me Max?”

That made her pause, her brows slightly furrowed. His voice was so soft she barely heard it. Jesus, she didn’t know what to make of this man. This infuriating man that insulted every person she knew and yet, could always be found in the audience during her matches. Who always checked on her in his own weird, emotionally bizarre way.

‘At least you didn’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Well, she looks worse but yeesh, that’s not saying much.’

And then the odd, ‘How are you?’ But that one seemed to make him more uncomfortable than any other compliment veiled with an insult. That one seemed genuine, a removal of some mask, and he never stayed long after she fumbled an answer.

She eyed him carefully on the stool beside her.

“Alright, Max,” she said and the sound of his name brought this strange, hopeful look to his face that caught her off guard. She was so used to it in a sneer, a Cheshire grin. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

She jerked her thumb towards the exit and threw back the rest of her strong drink. Although she hadn’t had as much as the boys, she felt warm and bubbly. Even with MJF, Max, at her side as they walked out into the night air, his hand a vague sensation at the small of her back as he let her go first. Her phone vibrated and she checked it.

Sammy G. - lmk if you need help hiding body xoxo

She rolled her eyes and slid her phone back into the pocket of her dress. Max kept a small distance from her as they walked and he did the same when she found somewhere to sit. She hadn’t banked on it being cold. Goosebumps slid up the exposed skin of her arms. Wordlessly, Max offered her his scarf.

“...Thanks,” she said. “What’s all this about, Ma--”

“You don’t like me.”

His statement cut her off and she cocked her head. She played with the ends of his scarf where it draped over her shoulders. It smelled like him and something sweet.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she offered. The conversation hadn’t initially been about them but with the way her brain lingered on it and how his statement didn’t sit well with her, she shifted it further that way. “You’re not the easiest person to be around. At all. Half the time I don’t know if you’re trying to be nice or if you’re just waiting for me to fall.”

“I’ve seen you fall. More than they have, in fact.”

She shot him a look. He wasn’t wrong. Jericho made a big show of how strong the bonds in the Inner Circle were and yet... Guilt knocked at her skull and she ignored it.

“Max,” she got his attention, his warm eyes on her and his knees angled towards her. Part of the reason she wanted to get away from the others was to get some air, that was true. The other part? To see who she was talking to. Max or MJF. “For once, can you just say what you mean and not be a complete dick about it?”

His jaw worked at that and his hands switched which one was on top quite a few times. Worry overtook her when he looked like he might be sick. Or like he was in pain.

“I like you. Alright? Even though I don’t want to and God knows I’ve tried not to, I do. I think about you literally all the time and it’s awful.”

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment and she shook her head with disbelief. He couldn’t just stop while he was ahead.

“Jesus,” she said, her voice a low and bitter sound. She slipped his scarf off and handed it back to him. “That must be so fucking terrible for you. My condolences, MJF.”

He was strangely silent as they walked back but that changed as soon as they were back in the company of the boys. Loudmouth, smug MJF was back and she receded back to the edges. Sammy approached her and demanded to know what happened, Ortiz as well. She kept it simple. They talked, that was all. The two men seemed to accept that that was all she would give them for the time being.

She had too much to think about and not enough drink in her glass.

---

The next pub they went to felt more up her alley and she sat at the end of the bar, away from the pissing contest between the others. Her sour mood had lifted some, thanks to Jameson and the friendly bartender. She could feel Max’s eyes on her but she paid no attention. She wanted to drink, she wanted to take a long bath, and then she wanted to go to bed. Something simple and not at all complicated like what her heart was feeling.

“Seriously, what did he say to you?”

“That’s between us, Ortiz,” she said for the third time to the man beside her. “It’s really not something I want to talk about.”

“Man, you’re holding out on us,” Sammy cut in from her other side. “Did he say something embarrassing? Please tell me it was embarrassing. It was totally embarrassing, right? Give us the dirt, sister.”

In some ways, she supposed it was embarrassing. Her jaw clenched.

“Is the hotel far from here?”

Ortiz blinked at her.

“No, not really, why?”

“I think I’m done for the night,” she said as she slapped a twenty on the bar and pushed back from it. “I’m getting tired.”

The two men seemed shocked and appalled by such a statement.

“Woah, you serious?”

“Mhm,” she vocalized. “You boys have fun, okay?”

“One of us will go with y--”

“I’ll go with her,” Max suddenly said, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered up to the trio. “You two stay here, huh? Keep an eye on the old man over there.”

Ortiz looked at Sammy, who looked at her, who looked at Max. He was too busy staring the other two down to notice how hard she looked at him.

“Fine,” she said carefully. “It won’t take long.”

She rushed out the door and Max was quick to follow her. That hardened expression of his faded and there was Max again, soft and vulnerable and infuriating. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes and she hated it.

“Slow down,” he called to her. “I didn’t say any of that right, alright? That was a shitshow in word form and I can do better than that because, I mean, I’m me. If I fuck it up again, just slap me and we’ll be done with the whole thing.”

He caught up to her in long strides and gently encircled her wrist with one of his hands. She stopped with a harsh breath in and turned back to look at him, her fists clenched at her sides. He let go of her wrist and guided her to the side, away into one of the alleys of Las Vegas. Maybe Max was serious if he was so willing to stand next to garbage.

“I like you,” he tried again as he stood in front of her. “I think about you a lot and when I think about you, I go looking for you. I don’t even know what I’m going to say half the time when I do, alright? I just go and hope for the best. I don’t do that. Any of that. I don’t like people and I don’t hope for the best for...for anything. For anyone. But then there’s you and I do and it’s weird but I don’t hate it and I don’t hate you. That’s the thing! I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

His hands hovered by her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen to what he was saying. What was that one line? The one about how wonderful, how strange it was to be liked by something that hates all else? She couldn’t wrap her head around it but she knew she wasn’t angry anymore. Bewildered and breathless and taken aback and unquestionably warm. That’s what she was. Her silence compelled him to step away and she reached out for him. Giggling grew louder on the sidewalk outside the alleyway. They stared at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

“Max, I don’t know…”

She trailed and it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to say. Anything she could have said was silenced by Max’s lips on hers, his hands on the wall to brace himself. She leaned up into him, her eyes on his and both just as confused. A giggling couple disappeared down the alley and they must have knocked against Max. His hands dropped from the wall to her shoulders and when he went to pull away, she slipped her arms around him and pulled him in. Their stagnant lips began to move and she could taste what it was that smelled so sweet. He could taste the burn of Jameson on her tongue. Their eyes fell shut and they dove into each other.

The tentative way he kissed her melted like sugar to absinthe. His tongue met hers, her teeth nipped at his lips. Not enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist then finally they came to a stop at her hips. He kissed her hard and she met him on even ground, her fingers curled in tight against his broad back. A sound of disgust from him broke them apart and that scowl of his was back on his face. He breathed hard against the skin of her neck.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a borderline growl as he lifted his head and stared down the alley. “We are not making out in a filthy, scum-filled alleyway. I get that this is Vegas and it’s the bottom of the barrel but there is still a thing called standards.”

His hand slid into hers to lead her away and after a second, she laced her fingers with his. She didn’t know what they were or where the hell they would be when the weekend was over and they left this moment. They could figure it out. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled at her. Not a shit-eating one, not a standing-over-your-fallen-enemy one. It was just a simple one, meant for her, and it made her hope that it wasn’t true what they said about Las Vegas. Just this once.

[miss-morland]

man this whole chris chan pronoun discourse is wild bc like. people are setting aside The Main Issue to talk about their pronouns and insist people use she/her and it’s coming off as completely tone deaf and bizarrely blasé about what actually happened to get chris in the news

but on the other hand i totally understand how all the nuances in this particular situation can be reduced to “when a trans person is evil you can misgender them all you want” and no matter how shitty chris is, that’s certainly a dangerous precedent to set. and it’s definitely Deeply uncomfortable to see all the people saying “we don’t want him” “he’s not really trans” and shit like that

but also…i feel like, if you don’t know chris chan’s story with gender and sex and sexuality, you kind of end up talking out of your ass about the whole thing. because so much of the transition from male-presenting to femme-presenting was rooted deeply in mental illness, and potentially also in predatory intentions based on things chris has said about it

(and no, i’m not saying that being trans is a mental illness or that it’s even related to mental illness. but in this specific case, it is very clear that chris’s delusions fed into it to at least some degree. i’m not going to get into details here, but they’re out there.)

then there’s the predatory aspect, and i really can’t blame anyone for being hesitant to say “this man is pretending to be a woman to gain access to women’s spaces!” because obviously that’s a fucking horrible precedent to set. but also that’s…kind of what happened, according to chris themselves. we of course can’t know all their motivations, but it’s no secret that being able to date lesbians and get closer to women was part of the appeal for chris.

anyway. i’m not trying to start a fight and i’m certainly not trying to make any kind of definitive statement about what the right thing to do here is. all of this is just bouncing around in my head and i wanted to lay it all out

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The secrets of hospital bills

Today, the New York Times published an analysis of hospital pricing in the US, comparing prices charged to uninsured people, to Medicare, and to different insurers, revealing that these prices can vary up to 900%, often to the detriment of large insurers.

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/08/22/upshot/hospital-prices.html

This represents a marked contrast to the story we are often told about health-care pricing in America — that large insurers use their might to negotiate lower rates from price-gouging hospitals. That might be true sometimes, but often, it’s not.

And as the Times points out, it’s not necessarily the insurers who pay those inflated prices — many insurance plans are actually run by large employers, and only administered by the insurance company. So when Cigna turns down a treatment, it’s actually your boss doing it.

That may be a nice fiction for your boss to maintain in order to deflect your ire the coverage you’re denied — but it also means that when Cigna allows a hospital to gouge it for your care, it’s your boss that pays for it — not Cigna’s shareholders.

Meanwhile, the variations in prices are simply wild. If you get a colonoscopy at University of Mississippi Medical Center, it costs $1463 if you’re with Cigna, $2144 if you’re with Aetna, and $782 if you’re uninsured.

$782!

The percentage differences are even more pronounced with small-dollar items, like a pregnancy test at Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania:

$18 if you’re with Blue Cross PA.

$58 if you’re a Blue Cross NJ HMO customer.

$93 if you’re a Blue Cross NJ PPO customer.

$10 if you’re uninsured.

There’s so much more of this. Hospital and insurance spokespeople told Sarah Kliff, Josh Katz and Rumsey Taylor that all of this was not nearly so bad as it looks, that it was taken out of context, that there’s an innocent explanation — but were unable to provide that explanation.

The reality is that it’s much worse than it looks. The data-set they were reporting on is fragmentary, drawn from the minority of hospitals that deign to comply with a bipartisan order (started under Trump, affirmed by Biden) requiring hospitals to provide this pricing data.

These are the hospitals with the least to hide, the best of the bunch, and they’re so bad. There’s repeated stories of parents being horribly gouged on rabies shots for their children, for example.

All of this puts the lie to the story of health-care as a market. A parent whose child is in need of urgent care following a wild animal attack doesn’t shop around for a deal. There’s no “demand elasticity” in rabies shots for children.

But even if a heart-attack patient in an ambulance was interested in shopping for a bargain on their care, they would be stopped cold. Hospitals and insurers treat their pricing information as trade secrets, and refuse to disclose it, even when legally obliged to do so.

That secrecy extends to your employer, who is unable to see prices even when shopping for an insurer for thousands of your co-workers. In 2018, Larimer County, CO tried to get the insurer who covered its 3,500 employees to disclose its negotiated hospital prices.

They raised the issue up to the insurance company’s CEO, who personally told them to fuck off, pay him, and forget about ever finding out how that money was being spent. They put the contract out for rebid. Of the six insurers who bid, five refused to disclose prices.

A former Blue Cross exec told the Times that they put “gag orders in all our contracts,” ensuring that no one would ever know whether they were getting ripped off.

Six months after the order that legally required hospitals to post prices, the Times contracted the ten highest-grossing noncompliant hospitals. NYU Langone told them to fuck off (“We will not be providing a statement or comment”).

They got bafflegab from Cedars Sinai: “We do not post standard cash rates, which typically will not reflect the price of care for uninsured patients.”

Penn Medicine made a funny: “Penn Medicine is committed to transparency about potential costs.”

This is not a market. Markets have prices and shoppers (not hostages). This is a racket. If you doubt it for an instant, tune into Arm and a Leg, a podcast that reveals health care’s crooked billing practices and explains how to resist them.

https://armandalegshow.com/

When I moved to America, a number of friends counselled me to take out catastrophic injury insurance and skip regular health insurance, and show up at doctors’ offices and hospitals with cash in hand, ready to bargain.

They swore up and down that they were paying less in cash money for treatment than I would pay in deductibles and co-pays for my insured coverage. It looks like they were right in many cases. But this is no way to run a healthcare system.

For one thing, it leaves people with chronic conditions out in the cold. For another, it allows the system to continue to rot, transforming into a financial institution first and a way to treat patients as a distant second.

America doesn’t have market healthcare. It has racket healthcare. The fact that Americans defend this system is frankly bizarre. Unless you’re a shareholder in this rotten system, it has absolutely nothing to redeem it.

It is a crooked enterprise that wastes trillions and delivers precious little care.

Image: Japanexperterna.se (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/japanexperterna/15251188384/

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove