#people who can draw cars should be feared

[musaslullaby]

The night has only just begun

Max Verstappen x fem reader

Summary: Max becomes jealous when he sees you talking to another man.

Warning: NSFW, +18, you are responsible for what you read.

Masterlist

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I've always loved being around people. Parties, interviews, or simply going out to dinner were a way to clear my head from eternal melancholy.

The limousine sped through the empty streets of Monaco. The only lights visible through the tinted windows were those of the beautiful stars, shining independently in the sky. They’ve always inspired a sense of trust in me, and now, after years of hard work, I can happily consider myself one of them.

"Schatje, are you ready?" Max asked, placing his hand on my leg, covered by the expensive blue dress that sparkled under the moonlight.

"I'm always ready. Perhaps I should ask you if you are." My mischievous smile caused an adorable chuckle from Max, who gently stroked me before stepping out of the car. Like a true gentleman, he opened the door for me, and only at that moment did my eyes wander over his entire body, perfectly framed by a black tuxedo as dark as the night, which highlighted his light blue eyes.

He extended his hand toward me with an elegant gesture while a brilliant, sincere smile adorned his features. His expression was relaxed, genuinely happy, and it made me smile involuntarily. I loved seeing him so at ease, especially because it was rare—during races, he often showed his worst side.

I gently placed my hand in his, which was larger than mine. It felt reassuring as we walked down that red carpet; his presence was warm and calm, in stark contrast to the continuous flashes of the journalists' cameras blinding us. Even the sky seemed to hide its beloved stars from those equally bright machines.

When we entered the venue, the lights were dim, a soft murmur lingered in the background, and waiters constantly passed by with glasses of sparkling wine. Occasionally, you could notice a dark wooden table surrounded by Ferrari-red couches.

My eyes darted around, scanning every person, and they casually caught sight of blonde hair. In an instant, I left Max's side, diving into that ocean of important people, dressed like kings and queens. When I got close enough, I recognized that boy. I knew my eyes weren’t deceiving me. "If I’m not mistaken, this is the scent of…" I said, stopping, resting my hand on my chin as I pretended to think. "Ah yes, it’s the new Giorgio Armani fragrance?"

The boy turned to me with wide eyes. "I can’t believe it, Y/N, how long has it been!"

"Too long!" I whispered, laughing, as we hugged, fearing we’d lose each other again.

"So, how’s it going?" he asked, his bright smile so contagious that I felt a facial paralysis coming on.

"Everything’s fine, thanks," I replied kindly, my voice slightly sweetened.

I had no idea how much time had passed since we started talking, but the only thing I knew was that he hadn’t changed: he was still the same goofy boy as always, and in some ways, that was reassuring. As caught up as we were in the conversation, I completely ignored the phone going crazy with calls and messages. By then, my handbag was vibrating every three seconds.

A laugh erupted from the back of my throat; I loved his humor and jokes, but I didn’t even have time to reply before I felt a deadly grip on my wrist, being yanked from the conversation without realizing it.

"That's enough," Max whispered through clenched teeth, his jaw tight.

"Stop it!" I yelled, trying to resist, drawing the attention of those around us, who suddenly stopped talking. Couldn’t they mind their own business?

"Will you explain what’s wrong with you?" I asked, stumbling as he let go, shoving me violently against the bathroom wall.

"What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?" His anger was evident; I could see it in his eyes, but beyond that, I saw something else… sadness? Melancholy? No, that wasn’t it. Something deeper, perhaps?

"I’m not the one who was eyeing another man," he continued, almost shouting, his voice filled with frustration and repressed feelings.

"What are you talking about? You know I only have eyes for you," I whispered, a slight sense of guilt starting to weigh on me, causing me to lower my gaze.

"Good, liefde, then prove it," he said, pressing his face against mine. I felt his warm breath brushing my lips and his mischievous grin. Ah, that’s what had been in his eyes earlier: lust.

With my cheeks flushed pink, I made the first move, throwing myself onto his slightly chapped lips. Max knew me too well; I would never back down from his provocations.

His hands gripped my hips in a firm hold, pulling me against his body. His teeth sank into my lips, asserting his dominance.

Involuntarily, I let out a sharp squeal, which earned an approving sound from Max. His kisses moved down to my exposed neck, biting and sucking the sensitive spots he knew all too well.

When he pulled away, I ran my hand over the purple and red marks he had left on me. A shiver of excitement shot down my spine as Max seductively licked his lips.

"Kneel," he ordered in a firm, authoritative voice, as he unbuttoned his pants.

With a subdued nod, I knelt before him, noticing the bulge in his pants. When I saw his member freed from its restraints in front of my face, I felt a sharp pang of pleasure deep in my core. Without hesitation, I took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him. I could hear his muffled grunts under my touch, and the heat he caused throughout my body was heavenly.

"Damn…" His hands found a grip in my hair, tugging to push deeper into his sex. My cheeks flushed red as he completely controlled the rhythm. Gag reflexes took over my body, feeling his member contract and the veins growing rigid. Suddenly, I noticed the pace increasing, although sloppier, and after two more thrusts, Max released himself into my throat.

"Swallow it all, I don’t want to see a drop," he whispered, pulling me up by my hair. His cheeks were flushed pink, and sweat dripped down his forehead.

He was incredibly sexy. With a seductive movement, I placed my hands on his chest, letting his expensive jacket fall to the ground. The white shirt clung to his body from the sweat, revealing his sculpted abs.

Max dropped the authoritative act for a moment, planting a sweet, wet kiss on my lips, tasting himself, before returning to the Max from before.

Without effort, he lifted me into his arms, playing with the edge of my panties, slightly pushing them aside, brushing against my swollen, already wet lips.

"You're already ready for me, schatje? Pathetic," he whispered with a mischievous laugh on my lips, and his closeness definitely wasn’t helping.

Quickly, he aligned himself with my entrance and penetrated me, our ragged breaths mingling together. I could feel every part of him inside me, every small movement and his overwhelming heat. He didn’t wait a second before hammering into me at an inhuman pace. I was sure my screams could be heard throughout the club.

He was consistent, hard, and fast. No second thoughts or hesitation, his movements were precise and sure. I buried my face in his neck while he grunted, throwing his head back in pleasure.

The tip of his member hit my g-spot, making me melt like cream in his hands. I could no longer think straight. A warmth crept into my lower abdomen, and with each thrust, it became more intense and taut until it finally snapped, accompanied by a scream carrying his name in a vulgarly melodious way.

"He would never make you scream the way I do," he said between grunts, pushing even deeper, losing energy as he went.

After a few more thrusts, he reached the height of pleasure and came inside me with a stifled groan, muffled by a kiss full of sweetness and lust, mixed in a perfect cocktail.

Sweat dripped down his face as he lovingly pressed his forehead against mine.

"I love you, schatje," he whispered against my lips in a soft voice, planting a few kisses on my face.

"I love you too, especially when you're jealous," I said with a playful smile, grazing his earlobe with my teeth, making him shiver at the contact.

"Ready for the next round?" he said with a mischievous smirk, running his fingers down my back, exposed by the low cut of my dress.

"The night has only just begun..." I whispered, laughing softly as I gently caressed his cheek, my heart beating faster knowing what awaited me.

[flowercrowngods]

this wouldn't leave me alone, so have my thoughts on a steve-centric "who did this to you?" steddie concept inspired by @imfinereallyy (i hope this is okay, even though it's uhhh nothing like what you mentioned)

When Eddie gets to the boathouse, he immediately notices that something is off. The door is cracked open but he can’t hear anyone talking or moving stuff around. No one ever comes here — it’s been his hideout spot since the ripe age of thirteen when he’d had hist first real fight with Wayne. 

No one comes here. But now the door is cracked open and Eddie stares at it for a good minute as though that would make it come to life and tell him who’s inside so he won’t have to look and deal with whoever decided to steal his spot. He’s really not in the mood to start any shit today, or to be called all sorts of names — most of which aren’t even half as true as people fear. 

His first instinct is to leave, find somewhere else to hide from this miserable world today, when he hears it. The sound of sniffling, followed by wet, heavy breaths. 

Oh. It sounds like someone’s crying. In his spot.

Maybe it’s some girl who got her heart broken, some dude who lost the last bit of faith in his family, or some kid who— 

Ah, fuck it, he’ll just come back later. Not his problem. Definitely not his problem. And it’s definitely not guilt or worry that gnaw at him as he turns on his heel to leave. 

But then there’s a groan. A pained groan. Someone’s in pain, and crying in his spot, and Eddie really shouldn’t make that his problem. He shouldn't. Nopbody cares when he's crying and in pain either! But fuck if he won’t be thinking about it for the rest of his life if he turns his back on whoever it is. Maybe they need help. 

They most certainly sound like they do.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie is already at the door before he can think about it too much. 

“Hello?” he asks the darkness, and immediately the sniffling stops. 

Silence falls, but only for a moment before whoever it is has to draw shaky, wheezing breaths that make Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Listen, I know you’re here.” He’s taking slow, deliberate steps, his eyes roaming he mess of boats, tools and tarp he knows so well.  “And I’m not trying to start anything. Tell me to go away and I will. But I have a first aid kit in my car and, uh, you sound like maybe you need it.” 

There’s no response, but the wheezing breaths turn into whimpers with every second that whoever it is tries very hard not to make any noise, and Eddie’s heart starts to race in his chest. He can feel worry and panic starting to rise. And overshadowing it is an overwhelming sense of dread.

What the fuck is happening? 

He tries to be careful but his mind is racing and his limbs are starting to feel like lead. His wary steps become heavy and clumsy, and then he accidentally boots something that makes a terrible, horrible noise, breaking the eerie silence. Eddie cringes and is about to apologise, when finally there is movement in his peripheral vision. 

And then he sees him. There, hidden in the shadows between a boat and the far wall, his face breaten and bloodied, his eye swelling around a nasty bruise. Wait, do bruises bleed? Should they look black like that? Is it a cut? Something worse?

Even after years of constant bullying and goading in middle school and high school, he has never actually seen someone look like this. With their face completely smashed in. It makes him freeze for a horrible, horrible moment before he saps out of it.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, hurrying over as fast as he can, stumbling over tools and tarp as he does. Something falls to the floor with a loud clunk and it makes the boy flinch again. Eddie curses. “Sorry, shit, sorry!” 

He makes it to the boat rather quickly, crouching down in front of the boy a few feet away so as not to spook him, not to crowd him. And then his heart only plummets further, because he knows this one. 

Steve Harrington. The boy who’s come to school with many a black eye over the past two years — but never this bad. The boy who’s been looking like the world might be about to end each time he rounded a corner in school; ever since things started happening around Hawkins. Since the Holland girl died and the Byers boy disappeared. 

It fascinated Eddie, the way Steve fell from grace. The way he turned quiet, and showed up with healing bruises. There are stories woven around it, because teenagers like to gossip and word spreads fast, and Eddie always listened with rapt attention as Harrington turned into a bit of a myth. A legend. A ghost story.

But fascination is not what he feels right now, seeing Steve like this.

His eyes are unfocused and Eddie knows about the danger of head injuries. He knows about the consequences of blood loss, he knows that Steve will be warm to the touch even though he’s shivering already, and… Fuck!

“Shit, Steve,” he rasps, not daring to speak louder lest he spooks the boy. Of all the reasons he’s had to be afraid of talking to Steve Harrington, this one might be the cruellest. "I..."

He takes in his wounds, his bruised and scraped knuckles where his hands are wrapped around the knees he’s pulled to his chest, and his split lip that he keeps biting. 

Eddie swallows before he asks, “Who did this to you?” 

But Steve just shakes his head clumsily. Sniffles again, and then his breath comes in wet heaves, and Eddie worries for a moment that he’s going to throw up now. 

He doesn’t. 

Steve’s just staring. Eddie isn’t even entirely sure he can see him, or maybe he did and then forgot, or maybe he’s fading. Eddie should do something, he should get help, he should— 

“Steve,” he says, and dares to touch him when he doesn’t react. 

A light touch to the knee shouldn’t make anyone flinch like that, but Steve’s whole body jumps, and then the shivers and the wheezing get worse. It almost sounds like a whimper, and Eddie curses again. Feels like crying now, scared and helpless as he is.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay, I— Jesus, okay.” He swallows hard, trying to think, willing for the panic to subside and a plan to form. “You’re okay. I... I’m gonna, I’m gonna grab the first aid kit. I have it in my car. It’s not, it’s not far. And a blanket. So you'll be warm again. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move, don’t…" He gestures wildly, caught between reaching out and pulling away. "Don’t move.” 

Eddie takes a wavering breath and moves to stand on numb, tingly legs, nearly missing Steve’s, “Can’t.” It’s barely more than a whisper, hardly even a wheeze. It’s like he’s just breathing out words because everything else is too much effort. 

Right. Right. This is messed up and Eddie’s panicking, but Steve will be okay. Because things like that don’t happen, not here, not today, and not to Steve Harrington. 

Except this is Hawkins. Where Will Byers disappeared and Barb Holland died and many people are missing and weird shit just ends up happening everywhere even though they’re all just kids. They’re just kids. And Steve’s not even conscious enough to realise that right now. 

Eddie all but runs outside, sprinting to his van with a speed that would make the coach swallow his stupid whistle if gym class only mattered right now. It doesn't. Nothing matters, because Steve is... He's hurt. And there's no one else around to help.

Grabbing the first aid kit, a bottle of water and a thick blanket he always keeps spread out in the back of his van, he makes it back to the boathouse in no time. 

He wasn’t even gone for three minutes, but still he sighs in relief when Steve is still awake. He even looks up. Blinks. Frowns in what can only be confusion and makes Eddie's heart fall.

“Munson?” 

Fuck, that’s not a good sign. That’s messed up, it’s fucked up, it’s— Focus, Eddie! 

“The one and only,” he says, voice shaky and his smile not fooling anyone. He wraps the blanket around Steve, whose eyes are unfocused again, though he tries so hard to blink it away. 

Brave boy, stupid boy. Head trauma isn’t blinked away. Though Eddie is inclined to let him try. Maybe he’ll find a way. 

“Here.” He hands the bottle over to Steve, who grabs it with clumsy hands. He can hold it, but he can’t get it open — again, not a good sign. 

Eddie opens it for him, then turns to his first aid kit. It seemed like a great idea five minutes ago, but he’s petrified now. It’s too dark in here and he can’t really see the wounds, he doesn’t know what to use, what’s in there, he doesn’t, he can’t, he— 

The bottle, empty now, is handed back to him, bumping into his hand, tearing him away from his spiralling thoughts. 

“Thanks,” Harrington breathes, and there’s a small smile visible in the darkness. Eddie just nods and takes it with hands that are still shaking.

“I wanna help you,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “But I don’t know how. You gotta tell me where it hurts, Steve.” 

A beat. “Everywhere.” 

Eddie sags, falling back to sit opposite Steve, frantically rubbing at his face. “Shit.” 

“Yeah.” Steve chuckles, but it sounds so wet with tears and pain, Eddie never wants to hear it again. “Thought I could do it.” 

He’s talking. That’s a good thing, right? He can’t pass out as long as he’s talking. That’s how that works, isn’t it? So, Eddie asks, “Do what?” 

��Doctors told me,” Steve sighs, his voice slow and slurring. “Told me to... to stay out of fights. Stay out of them. Said I had to make sure my head won’t—“ 

He makes a motion with his fist, and Eddie thinks he’s simulating a punch, disoriented as it is. It makes his heart fall. Is that what happened? Someone beat Steve to a pulp? Again? Just like that?

Eddie is so stuck on that thought, trying to piece together the puzzle, that he almost misses Steve’s mumbled speech. 

“Y’know, th— Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.” He says it to matter-of-factly that Eddie’s heart stops for a second.

What the fuck happened to Steve Harrington? Not just today, no. What happened to him?

What happend to make him look up at Eddie Munson, out of all people, with glistening eyes so endlessly scared, and say, “I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture. I can't—” A wheeze, a keen, a whimper, and Harringtin pulls at his hair, uncaring that he's making things worse.

Meanwhile, Eddie is stuck on his words. Because what. 

“Can’t, can't die now ‘cause Tommy thinks he’s so… He’s… He’s just sad, man. Griev'n' and confused. But Billy’s gone, an'— And now I’ll…”

Steve looks at him now, his eyes shining with tears and something that Eddie’s written poems about and created characters around. This expression, like the world will end. And inspiring as it is, it fucking breaks his heart now. 

“They said my brain is hurt, Eddie.”

Eddie swallows the hurt and the fear and the complete overwhelm he's feeling. Steve is telling him things that Eddie doesn't know how to handle.

“You won’t die, Steve,” he says in as gentle a voice as he can muster right now, because that's the only thing he knows.

And he won’t, right? People don’t just die. Not from taking a punch, not when they just graduated high school, not when they’re Steve Harrington. Right? 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Steve breathes. “That’s good.” 

Eddie wants to hug him in that moment. He never knew that this was possible, wanting to hug Steve Harrington, wanting to wrap the blanket around him even tighter and keep him safe and convince him that he won’t die. 

And then the rest of what he said catches up with Eddie and leaves anger in its wake. 

“Hagan did that to you?” 

Steve nods. “Started going off about Billy.”

Eddie’s blood freezes at that name. "Hargrove?” 

Another nod, though Steve doesn’t look too happy about moving his head, and he groans quietly. “They were friends. Tommy is angry. Grieving. Con— Confused. He was just saying shit, like it’s my fault. And it is. Kinda. But Tommy’s, he, he’s... Just saying shit. And then he punched me. A lot. And he didn’t stop. And now… is now.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes dumbly, carefully bandaging the glaring wound at his temple, needing to start somewhere. “Now is now.” His blood is still frozen as he tries very hard not to listen to Steve. Nothing that Harrington says has any right to matter anything to him; they live in two different worlds. If Harrington confesses to murder while severely concussed under Eddie’s watch, then there are no witnesses to drag either of them through the mud for it. Eddie is just gonna forget about it. Or try, anyway. “But you’re… Shit , Steve, you’re really hurt.” 

Steve blinks. Pauses. And Eddie thinks he’s lost him. But then, “Yeah. I’m always hurt.” 

And that, in this little voice, is like a gut punch. Because Eddie knows something about always hurt. “What?” 

“What?” 

There is ice in his veins as he asks, “Who’s hurting you, Steve?” 

Steve looks at him, opening his mouth once, twice, like he’s about to say something and Eddie holds his breath. But then Steve’s eyes droop and he shrinks in on himself a bit more. 

“Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.” 

Know what, Harrington? Eddie can barely breathe anymore.

“’M tired, Eddie,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes. “Don’t wanna hurt anymore.” 

“Hey, hey, no!” Eddie reaches out, catching Steve’s head and preventing it from colliding with the floor as he’s slumping and falling over. 

And just like that, the panic is back, frantic but determined this time. He’s going to get help; there’s nothing he can do with his lousy first aid kit, not when Steve keeps going in and out of consciousness like that. Not when he can barely see anything or clean the wounds properly.

He’s going to get Steve to a hospital and allow them both to forget this ever happened. Because Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson don’t breathe the same air or share traumatic stories in a boathouse like this. 

He’ll get out of Steve’s hair the second the hospital doors close behind him, and get out of whatever trouble someone like Harrington could be in. Eddie doesn’t even want to know. He doesn't want to be part of his ghost story.

But as he’s scooping him up and helping him out of the damned boathouse, clumsily preventing him from stumbling over his own feet or tools or tarp or planks or whatever fucking shit is littering the floor of this godforsaken place, he can hear Steve speaking quietly. 

"Where‘re we going?"

And even though a second ago he was determined to take Steve to a hospital, there is only one place on Eddie's mind right now. Only one place he knows where he won't be scared anymore.

"Somewhere safe," he says, tightening his hold on the boy even though his hands are shaking now, too. He looks over his shoulders the moment they're out of the boathouse, stupidly worried that whoever did this to Steve – Hagan, apparently – would still be around, would follow them and do the same shit to Eddie.

"Safe?"

"Safe."

"Okay," Steve sighs, like he believes him. Like he trusts him. Hell, they've never even spoken before, but something inside Eddie breaks at the little sigh, at the way Steve goes slack in his arms. And even more at the little, "Thanks."

If Eddie's eyes are filled with tears and the hands around the wheel are clenched so tight to hide the way they're shaking, then Steve is not conscious enough to comment on it.

(addendum 7 december) onwards to part 2

[yoonkinii]

Sukuna with drunk y♡u

Warning(s): cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of spanking in a sexual scenario, brief mention of puking. Requests open (only for this AU) Masterlist (check for more AU content!) Important note: I am deeply sorry it has taken me so long to update this AU. I was really struggling to write something I was happy with. It took me a while to realize this but I can not just solely write for this AU. This does not mean I am going to stop writing it, it just means updates for this AU will release at a slower rate since I will be writing other things. This is just a way to prevent me from writer block. Thank You!

He might kill you. No, scratch that, he will kill you. Sukuna curses to himself, drumming his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as he gets stopped by yet another red light. He had left the house the moment he realized just how drunk you were. 

Another curse slips from his lips as the light finally turns green. He should have never let you go to that college frat party. But in his defense, he knew you needed a break from school and that your friend with a smoking problem would be there as well. Karma was surely biting him in the ass now. 

His phone screen lights up, displaying your contact name. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he picks up his phone to read your text. A long, annoyed sigh escapes his nose at your response to his previous message.

He only slightly feared what he would find when he arrived at the party. You had sent him the location a few days earlier at his request. He wanted to know how far away you would be - not because he was worried about being apart from you, of course. 

A few more minutes on the road and a few turns later, Sukuna enters a crowded street. Parked cars line both sides, causing him to frown in distaste at the sheer number of people attending the party.

It wasn’t hard for Sukuna to find the house responsible for his girlfriend’s current state. College students littered the lawn, drinking, laughing, and a few even making out. Sukuna rolled his eyes, parking his car right in the middle of the street. His door slammed shut behind him, drawing the attention of several partygoers. One look at his irked expression had them sealing their lips and diverting their attention elsewhere. 

Passing through the open front door, Sukuna’s senses were immediately assaulted by flashing neon lights, the stench of alcohol and sweat, and the press of bodies. Shoving his way through the crowd and casting a glare at anyone who dared to yell at him, he searched for your familiar head. He knew exactly what you were wearing, having taken a photo of you before you left with Shoko because, in his words, you looked hot. You wore a black off-the-shoulder mini dress with long sleeves that flared slightly at the wrists and knee-length boots to match. Even knowing what you were wearing didn’t make it any easier to find you in the throng of people. 

A figure in the corner of his eye catches Sukuna’s attention. It’s Shoko, leaning against a wall in the living room between two men he’s never seen before. His long strides quickly close the distance between them. Sukuna watches as Shoko cracks a smile at something the white-haired boy says to the dark-haired one. As if sensing his approach, Shoko’s eyes darted up to meet Sukuna’s. Her brows pinch slightly in confusion before something clicks, and with a cheeky smile, she points towards the kitchen. 

Huffing a breath, he follows her directions, ignoring the way Shoko’s two friends pester her with questions about him. If Sukuna thought the living room was bad, the kitchen is worse. His shoes stick to the alcohol-soaked floors as bodies come in and out, refilling their cups or grabbing whole bottles. A shrill shriek is his only warning before a body crashes into his own.

“S’kuna! How are you here?” You look up, pressing your chin to his chest. Looking at him as if hung the stars himself. Instinctively, Sukuna’s hand rests on the curve of your ass, his fingers digging slightly into the soft flesh. 

“I dro-” 

A wet kiss silences him, your lips pressing firmly against his. Standing on your tiptoes, you cradle his face with your palms. Sukuna reciprocates with a small grunt, his hand on your ass pulling you closer, flush against his chest. 

Humming into the kiss, you pull away with a content smile. Sukuna looks down at you, taking in your disheveled appearance. Even in the low light, he can see your flushed cheeks, a clear sign of how drunk you are. Your hair, once meticulously styled, is now frazzled, with strands sticking to your sweaty neck. Even your makeup is smudge in some place.

Suddenly, you blink and a wide grin overtakes your face. “Let’s go dance!” you exclaim, turning towards the living room. You don’t even make it a step before a hand pulls you back by the waist.

“No,” Sukuna’s voice is final as he practically drags you out of the house. He catches Shoko’s gaze to let her know he’s taking you home. A simple nod from her is all he needs before he picks you up and slings you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Naturally, this spectacle draws attention. Some eyes are curious, others worried about what is happening. Sukuna hisses as you squirm in his grasp, whining all the way back to his car. 

“Put me down! I’m not done.” 

Sukuna doesn’t answer as he opens the passenger door. He doesn’t answer as you complain when he sets you down on your feet, or when he buckles you in after getting you into the car. You’re left to pout, your narrowed eyes boring holes through the front windshield. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Sukuna chides, pinching your cheeks and chuckling softly when you swat at his hand. “You don’t need to drink or party anymore. Your words are so slurred it gives me a headache.”

His words seem to snap you out of something as you turn to look at him. Sukuna is instantly taken aback by your watery gaze. “I give you headaches?” you ask softly, biting your bottom lip in shame. 

Sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep breath. Of course, you were the emotional type when drunk. Your emotions shifted instantly, it almost gave him whiplash. 

“No, Love,” Sukuna’s palm runs gently over your head, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I was kidding. You would never give me a headache.” He presses his lips to your forehead, hoping to calm you down before you break down over something so trivial. 

Your eyes trail him up and down warily, as if searching for a lie hidden on his skin. After a moment, a smile graces your lips, deeming him truthful. Sukuna shuts the door, relieved by your smile. Walking around the car, his shoulders slump - just what in the world is he going to do with you?

A giggle escapes your lips for the umpteenth time as you trip over your own two feet. Sukuna’s arm wrapped around your waist is the only reason you haven’t face-planted into the floor. The corner of Sukuna’s mouth curls in irritation, constantly having to carry your weight as you stumble and lean into him. The trek from his driveway to the front door is filled with you putting your dead weight against him, your face buried in his chest.

Even now, as he uses his free hand to unlock the door, you dangle off him, rubbing your cheek on his bicep while mumbling incoherent words. Sukuna has half a mind to break the door down just to get inside quicker, but thankfully, the key turns, and the door opens with a shove of his foot. 

Stowing his keys in his pocket, he decides he’s had enough of your stumbling. You squeal as he lifts you over his shoulder once more, carrying you to his bedroom. 

“Oh my God, your ass looks great from this angle,” you exclaim, your face now level with it. 

Sukuna doesn’t respond, though he briefly considers swatting your ass in response to your comment. He restrains himself, thinking it might be more enjoyable another time. 

An ‘oof’ escapes your lips as your back collides with Sukuna’s bed, a giggle bubbling up as you bounce softly against the surface. Sitting up, you eye Sukuna through your lashes as he stands before you with a raised brow, arms crossed in mock annoyance. 

You flop back down onto the bed, placing your heel on Sukuna’s thigh. “Take my shoes off, pleeease,” you drawl.

Sukuna grumbles under his breath about how he can't believe he’s letting you treat him like this. Despite his complaints, he unzips your boot without hesitation, tapping your thigh to signal you to give him the other foot. Once both shoes are off - along with your socks - he tosses them aside, not caring where they land. 

“Stand up,” he orders. 

You groan, annoyed at having to leave the comfort of his mattress. Once you’re standing, albeit swaying slightly, Sukuna motions for you to turn around with a twirl of his finger. 

Sukuna’s hands are cool against your skin, his fingertips trailing across your exposed shoulders. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, savoring the way you lean back into his touch. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unzips your dress, letting it pool at your ankles as he tugs it off. 

“Whoa - you want me that badly, Kuna? I think you’re obsessed with me,” you tease, blinking groggily at your discarded dress as you step out of it. 

Sukuna hums, his fingers sending shivers up your spine as they trace along your back. “I am,” he replies deeply, catching your drunken mind off guard. You whirl around to face him, but pause when you see he’s no longer behind you. Instad, he’s heading towards the bathroom connected to his room. You follow close behind, not wanting to be apart from your boyfriend after he’s treated you so tenderly. 

Leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom, you watch as Sukuna adjusts the shower head, testing the water until it reaches a comfortable temperature for you.  

“Take the rest of your clothes off,” Sukuna instructs, not even turning to ensure you’re nearby. He knows you are, simply because the room is silent, and you aren't babbling like you were during the car ride back. He confirms your presence when he hears the sounds of you shuffling out of your undergarments. 

You sigh in relief as you finally unhook your strapless bra, which had been tightly constricting your chest to prevent it from slipping down. 

Sukuna doesn’t need to tell you to get into the shower. You step in on your own, a contented sigh escaping your lips as the warm water cascades over your body, washing away the remnants of the night. Sukuna exits the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. He would never admit it openly, but he’s worried about you slipping in the shower, knowing how unsteady you are currently.

While you shower, Sukuna busies himself with gathering clothes for you to sleep in. He shrugs as he picks up a pair of your underwear, deeming it comfortable enough based on its appearance alone. He doesn’t bother looking for a bra; he knows how much you despise them.  It’s impossible for him not to know, given that every time you visit him after work or school, the first thing you do after kissing him is complain about how your bra feels like it’s cutting you in half. Maybe you were a  bit dramatic, but your point was clear. 

 After selecting one of his shirts for you, he sits on the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the open bathroom door, ears straining for any sign that something might be wrong. 

“Kuna,” your voice calls out from the bathroom, “I’m finished.” 

Sukuna surprises you with how swiftly he enters the bathroom, placing the clothes he gathered on the counter. The water from the shower is off, no longer creating the rhythmic hum of falling water, leaving the room in a hushed silence. You watch him move through the glass shower walls, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. 

“Cat got your tongue, Doll?” His voice teases as he grabs a fresh towel from the cupboard, opening the shower door. He dries you with practiced ease, his touch gentle yet efficient. Your brain can’t seem to register the fact that you’re standing bare before him, or perhaps it does, but the alcohol dulls your embarrassment. 

Sukuna wraps the towel around your torso, leading you out of the shower. He fetches the clothes from the counter, kneeling before you to help you step into your underwear. Your hands instinctively find his shoulders for balance as you clumsily navigate the process. 

A shiver runs through you when he takes away the towel, the cold air hitting your skin. You wrap your arms around yourself without a second thought. 

“Move ‘em” Sukuna orders. You comply, letting your arms fall away from your chest. He helps you put on the shirt, one of his, evident by its oversized fit. The hem ends at your mid-thigh, more like a nightgown than a shirt. 

You’re too busy inspecting the shirt to notice Sukuna approaching you with a wipe. It’s only when he tilts your head up by your jaw that you realize what he’s doing. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching his brows furrow in concentration as he wipes your face. 

“Removing the rest of your makeup,” he answers nonchalantly. “You’ll kill me if I let you go to sleep looking like a raccoon.” 

Your nose wrinkles in distaste at the comparison, but it doesn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat. He’s gentle. The man who wouldn’t hesitate to steal candy from a baby, is gentle. He listens to your complaints, even when it seems like he isn’t, and remembers them for the future. 

Sukuna freezes as he notices your quivering lips, his eyes widening slightly. He pulls the wipe away from your face, concern replacing his usual stoic expression. “Why are you going to cry, woman?” he asks, the pad of his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. 

You blink away the tears, shaking your head as you gently take the wipe from his hands, removing the remnants of your mascara. Tossing the wipe towards the trashcan, which you completely miss - something Sukuna will handle tomorrow - as he stands before the sink. 

With tired eyes, you watch him as the excitement and fuel from the alcohol dissipates, leaving you feeling as if the next time you close your eyes, you won’t be able to open them again. Sukuna holds out your toothbrush, waiting for you to start brushing before he stands behind you with a comb in hand. He gently runs the comb through your hair, and you watch him through the mirror, smiling as he frowns at each troublesome knot. 

Once he’s done, he steps back, allowing you to spit out the pasty foam. You smack your lips in distaste at the minty flavor coating your mouth. Sukuna places your toothbrush back where it belongs before he brushes his own teeth. You exit the bathroom, eager to go to sleep as Sukuna gets himself ready for bed. 

Lifting the covers, you flop onto the bed, face pressed against the pillow as you relax. You don’t move, even as the bed dips with Sukuna’s added weight. It’s only when he tuts that you shift your head in the pillow to look at him. He watches you with narrowed brows. 

“I think the least I deserve right now is being able to hold you while we sleep,” he complains, his lips set into a hard frown. 

An airy giggle escapes you as you scoot closer to him. No longer dressed, Sukuna is wearing only his boxers as his nighttime attire, something you’re used to at this point. Hooking a leg over his waist, he slots his own leg between yours. You sigh in contentment, your nose burying into the sip of his throat. One hand rests against his chest while the other buries itself under the pillow. 

A low sound rumbles from the back of Sukuna’s throat as his hand rubs your bare back after sneaking inside your shirt. His chin rests against your head. Even though it’s late, he can’t seem to find sleep until you do. The rhythmic sound of your breathing acts as a lullaby, beckoning him to close his and give in to the drowsiness he has been fighting since you texted him.

It didn’t matter where or how late it was, if it was you- he would always answer. Even if it means having to hold your hair back as you puke the next morning, snarling at him as he makes snide comments. Even if it means dealing with your shitty attitude from a pounding headache - he will always be there. 

-

Tag List (open):@kalulakunundrum , @fushipurro

[opennwindows]

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

[onmyyan]

A/N: First Yandere OC he’s a big baby n i love him❤ TWs: Yandere shenanigans, Smut, reader has a coochie, word pussy used to describe genitalia, cis fem reader, ”Good Girl”, breeding kink, feeding kink, cum eating (reader doesn't know) oral (f receiving), shower sex, cursing

Lemme know what you guys think!!

Caspian Delmont HC's

25 year old beefcake

The biggest guy in the room no matter where he is. Absolutely massive individual, standing proud at 6'4 a wall of muscle shaped like a man, definition of scary dog privilege

Smells like cinnamon and warm chocolate

Likes to take Sunday drives in his granddads 67 Chevy Impala, oldies blaring through the speakers he'd put in himself(the only thing he changed about the car)

Old fashioned in the way where he'd lay a man out flat in the street for disrespecting you, then take you to dinner as an apology for having to deal with that crap.

He has an accent, a thick Bronx twang that comes out heavy on certain words, bilingual, speaks fluent Spanish and English, he's mixed with Filipino and Puerto Rican, has a huge family so he wants one with you. If you don't however he'll settle for a small army of animals.

Drinks his respect women juice like water, sees you as his equal and at the same time holds you on this goddess like pedestal high above him.

Boxes in his free time to release pent up aggression, and he's good at it.

Early on in the relationship he is quite hesitant to show you this side as he's insecure about how you view him.

Everyone has always had some ulterior motive when it came to him, he's used to people befriending him out of fear or to use his intimidating stature to their advantage, so when you don't he's both incredibly warmed and confused.

You're genuineness only draws him in further, as tough an act he puts on our boy falls fast and hard.

First time he saw you he was a goner, you were elbow deep in some toffee cookie dough, the tip of your tongue poking through your plush lips in the cutest form of concentration he'd ever bore witness to.

His brain worked a mile a minute as he sped walked his way to the desk next to you, shoulder checking the smaller man who was previously beside you. You looked up at the sound of his body meeting the desk in his scurry out the way of Caspian’s impending mass.

His red eyes widened as they met yours, the smile you gave him was real, he saw it in the way it reached your eyes. The small 'hi' you said as you went back to your work had butterflies erupting in his chest the entire hour of class.

Not one to shy away from his wants he quickly comes up to you after the lesson eager to help you clean up as his own station was miraculously cleared in moments.

He lays on the charm thick, all the while making sure not to come off as too pushy, he visibly lit up when he got you to laugh that first time.

Wants to ask you out immediately but knows he loves a lot harder than most and the last thing he wanted was to scare you away. Forces himself to hold back even though he knew you were the one after about one and a half classes.

Remembers everything you share about yourself, down to the most minute detail about how you like to stay home when it rains because it always makes you sleepy, or how you like when your partner can protect you because people in the past have failed to.

Absolute sweetheart to you, treats you like you deserve to be, 100% worshiped.

Can and has knocked some teeth out to protect your honor, if someone made the fatal mistake of making you cry?

Oh he's calling his sketchy cousin who owns a junkyard on the edge of town and having him leave the gates unlocked for him where your offender may or may not be tied up in the trunk of their car, he doesn't give em' a speech or tell them why he's doing what he is, in his mind they should know. Their muffled screams would be drowned out by the metal jaws and teeth of the compactor his cousin let him use from time to time, he'd have to bake him some macaroons as a thank you- ooh he could ask you to join him! It be such a cute date.

Major sweet tooth, loooooves hand feeding you especially if it's something he himself made it's a physical representation of his love!!

Calls you sugar, pumpkin, honeyy(specifically drawing out the y at the end so its more like a whine) babycakes, muffin, basically any food you can call your s/o he's doing it

He wakes up an hour or so before you so he can stare lovingly without you getting all flustered and hiding from him.

His favorite days are spent waking up late with you on top of him, his big arms holding you securely to his chest, neither of you have work or classes, you'd wake up to him humming some unnamed tune, the timber in his voice lulling you gently awake, he won't leave the bed without at least one kiss, first words you hear are usually something like "Mornin' sugar" followed by the kinda toe curling kiss that shakes all the sleep from your system, I'm talking he only pulls away to breathe kinda kiss, "I'm the luckiest bastard in the world gettin' to wake up with a woman like you warming my sheets." If you two don't immediately go at it like rabbits he'll twirl you both into the kitchen where you'll cook breakfast together, the radio softly filling the morning air, makes you sit in his lap while you eat, he'd be so focused on watching you eat he'd forget to do it himself so naturally you take the time to feed him as well, cue his heart exploding and him getting so excited he all but tosses you on the table, hand cradling your head because he'd never hurt you, eventually you'd be able to keep your paws off each other long enough to get ready, although if he's in the room it will take twice as long.

Nsfw under here❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗

Doesn't matter your height or weight this man is throwin you around in the bedroom

His hands are surprisingly soft for how rugged he looks, he's obsessed with trailing them along your body, stares at you like you're artwork.

On one hand he wants to take his time, start at the bottom work his way up your body, kissing, licking and biting everywhere he could. He wants to tease you, taste you get drunk off your sent until you tug him away from your sex, then he'd slide his way up the sweet smile on his face not matching the debauchery he was about to commit.

On the other hand he wants to lay on the bed and have you sink onto his face so he can eat like the starved beast he is, any fears or insecurities about the ordeal fly out the window when you look down to see this titan of a man with tears beading his lashline, begging to eat your pussy, whining to just do it already and he could take it if you'd pleeeease just give it to em'

Feeder kink on max, it all starts when one day your hands are full and you innocently asked him to feed you, all was well and good until his finger lingered in your mouth a second too long, your tongue teasingly flicked the appendage as it retreated, now every time you're eating all he can think about is sitting you in his lap and feeding you. If he could he'd spend every meal with you cockwarming him and his fingers in your mouth.

Service Top? Service Top.

Can and will eat you out until you're a whining, blubbering, mess. More often than not you have to pull him by his hair to catch your breath, of course the light sting from your yanks would only spur him on,

"One more honey? C'mon good girl give it to me. I know you can baby- that's right ride my face." Absolute menace

Shower sex that leaves you feeling dirtier than when you went in

Definitely the type to talk you through it.

"There we go- that's it honey jus' let go f'me." He loves to moan in your ear and see the pretty way your face twists up, loud as hell too, it's a good thing he has a house cuz the man is a screamer.

Always makes you cum more than once, competitive bastard makes it a game between himself to see how many times you can unravel before you tap out.

Can you say Pussy drunk? He wants it as sloppy and messy as he can get. Eats you like its his last chance, i'm talking moaning into your skin, pulling your hips down to get you as close as possible, grinding himself against the bed while he thanks you for letting him have his favorite meal.

He's definitely came in your food before sorry

It's just so romantic to him!! The idea of being inside of you-even just a small piece, quells the possessive monster he keeps leashed. For now

Is willing to try anything you want in bed except hurting you, some choking? Sure, impact play? If you asked him real nicely, but anything like degradation he just can't make himself be mean to his baby!!

You could be mean to him though, there's a small genuine part of him that likes when you get a little rougher, he thinks he doesn't deserve you- any of you, so dig your nails in his skin, mark him with your teeth, show him who he belongs to.

Breeding kink breeding kink breeding kink- you get the picture.

If you indulge him once he'll never wanna cum anywhere else.

"Please baby-fuck, please lemme' cum inside please please fuck me fuck me yes- oh god m'gonna fill this pretty pussy so deep yes, yes- oh god baby girl feels. So. Fuckin. Good." He'd thrust as hard as he could at the end, his face scrunching up in the most blissful fucked out expression. Absolutely cried because of how good it felt.

All in all you give him an inch he'll give you eight

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Do You Need to Know Right Now?

Hello beautiful people. Happy Monday! Today is special because this will be my first fully intuitive PAC reading, meaning no cards just vibes lmao. This week Friday, I am having yet another Five Dollar Friday Sale so stay tuned in for that! Without further ado, please select the image that resonates with you.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You need to learn how to surrender to the Divine. I heard “the choice is yours”. Whatever major decision you’ve been contemplating on will ultimately be up for you to decide. You choose your own destiny but you don’t have to know all the steps/details of getting there. Have some confidence in your journey. Everything will be alright. This is for some of you, if you are a business owner or your love language is acts of service, you need to learn how to say no. Turning your services down to people who don’t deserve it is okay to do. All money isn’t good money. As you try to make a name for yourself, lean into your gut feelings. Don’t navigate through this world by being willfully naive. You know more than most. Some of you may have been encountering shady characters. I am channeling the energy of Douda from The Chi; very Devil-like, King of Cups (RX) type of energy. A lot of you have been dealing with two-faced men within the past two years but I am seeing a door shutting in someone’s face in my third eye. You are going to start walking away from people/places/things that no longer serve you. This newfound courage will result in long-term abundance and prosperity. Don’t be afraid to start over. Out with the old, in with the new, babe!

extras: jenifer lewis. “candace/candy”. florist. unable to wink. listening to whitney houston. weather forecast. “maurice/morris”. feeling underestimated. desperate housewives. fearful. cotton candy. yes indeed (2018). cold at night. arm wrestling champ. loose cannon.

Pile Two: I feel like you are going through some physical changes. You could be pregnant, soon-to-be moving, upgrading your furniture, painting your house, learning how to do makeup to be an MUA, etc. You could be doing multiple things at once right now. Your ability to shift from one gig to another is admirable. You’re very versatile. You’re an independent person but you should know that you don’t have to carry the work alone. You have people around you that are willing to help and nurture your talents and skills. The car you drive was created because of team effort. The food you eat is consumable because of a team! The books you read were not solely published because of the author, but because there was a team behind them! Nobody is truly by themselves, honey! Allow people to experience your energy. I feel like it took a long time for you to be this comfortable with yourself. But ultimately, you are human and you need people around you! You will know who your people are when you get around them.

extras: diana/deana. red flags. movie theatre. drug major. oomf. cheese lover. movement. smokey. black eyed peas. rice & peas. red nails. classic manicure. turning 30/milestone birthday.

Pile Three: I feel like you’re guarding your energy right now, Pile Three. You’ve been caved in with your lover, lol. I didn’t mean for this to turn into a love reading but heyyyy, I see you! :). Your union was not supposed to last as long as it has on the surface but it did. I am sensing that it was originally a one night stand or a summer fling. However, it was divinely orchestrated to be that way. I am seeing those Pinterest drawings of soulmates in my third eye. This person is someone you’re aligned with on a soul level; this is karmic. However, karmic ≠ codependent. Make sure that you have your own life outside of this person. This person does have all eyes on you and vice versa. I can tell that the passion is mutual. If you are planning to go on a vacation with this person soon, expect a promotion in your relationship to happen. This promotion could be an engagement/wedding, moving in together, meeting the family, etc. I see you two eating slices of fruit on the beach, feeding one another while smiling and giggling amongst each other. This is a lovely connection thus far. I also see you being spoiled with gifts of your choice. This person is a gift giver for sure, along with wanting to spend quality time with you! However, this is just the beginning. Ground yourself in the present moment. Savor and soak up every waking day with this person.

extras: montgomery, alabama. jason/justin. sam. cartier glasses. fake ID. retribution. academy. pork. glamorous. marjorie. fake gym rat. attracted to pheromones. high achiever. monie/monet. kansas.

Pile Four: This is for a few of you, but some of you could have known someone that was recently released from jail/mental health facility/nursing home. You could be their caregiver/keeper. Others of you have family members/a partner that are financially dependent on you. I know that you feel burdened by this. Both the financial burden and the mental burden can be frustrating. I do see your situation improving. Someone is lightening the load. I feel like you are going to receive extra support, specifically from another woman. She is going to offer help & it will no longer be a job carried by one person. Whoever this is, they have been in your position before so you don’t have to worry about being pitied or feeling lesser than her. Another thing is that you should definitely get started on your laundry. I feel like you are going through a bout of depression right now. Start off with the small tasks first then do the big things. You need to take your time & be patient with yourself.

extras: air jordan’s. new microwave. corn on the cob. jogging. morph. telling stories. future focused. gold rings. coffee. marlboro. notre dame. golden shepard.

[writingdirectory]

Notes from a 5-day creative writing course:

Motivation

Make it a habit. That way, each time that familiar voice of self-doubt makes its appearance, it’ll be easier to ignore it, because writing will become something that you do-your thing-and you’ll gain confidence in it.

Visit your novel every single day. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to write something every day. You could outline the plot, or write character portraits, or draw a special part of your world. Your subconscious will work on your story even when you don’t. So, each time you visit the story consciously, you’ll find that things have developed in the story.

Manage the time of writing in a way that it is manageable for you. (It can be that one hour between classes or your lunch break or the morning before you go to work or at night before you sleep - Schedule it in a way that suits you and then, be serious about it.

Set a goal. For example, 100 or 500 words a day.

Character Development, Word Choice & Description

At first, characters incarnate ideas. A poor man who wins the lottery, a young boy who travels to a magical land. As we develop the story, they become people - real people with backgrounds and unique choices.

Ways we perceive character: through actions, thoughts (conflict), dialogue, interactions with others.

Bring intentionality to the representation of a character.  Don't give arbitrary information.

How a character reacts is a question of how you want to represent them through all those multiplicities that are dialogue, actions, interactions, etc.

Characters always want something. They are never static. With wants come obstacles and transformation.

Create tension between what a characters thinks, feels and says. For example, set external confidence and internal fear and then change that as the story develops. Characters can also be comfortable or scared depending on the situation.

Explore complexity. How a character talks to their lover is different from how they talk to their friends and family.

Give secondary characters a characteristic beyond their function to make them more prominent.

Make a hierarchy out of characters.

Exercise: Write the portrait of a character, how you would introduce them in the story and a description of them from a character that a) likes them and b) dislikes them.

Word Choice. When it starts sounding like writing, cut it out - Kill your darlings. Example: The car was spotted with rust - shows the car. As opposed to: The car was acned with rust - shows the writing. Sometimes a more refined word works against the object/image.

Description: Don’t just put in details. The details need to be significant for the image you want the reader to see.

Don’t use metaphors and lyricism in the expense of clarity. Be precise. Metaphors and similes should fit the narrative and not distract the reader. For example, saying “He barked like a dog” sounds fine, but if there are no dogs in your world, it is out of place and breaks the narrative. Be specific. Name things. Don’t be vague. Precision grounds your fiction.

Determine if you need static or lively description. Lively description is when you describe things through actions. Like “She passed her fingers through her blond hair”, instead of “Her hair was blond”.

Sense of authenticity. When you describe a place precisely, you gain your reader’s trust. A column is different from a golden column. That kind of attention gives a sense of authority and makes the narrative convincing.

Parts of description: smell, sound, sight, taste, touch, temperature, pressure.

Dialogue & POVs

Dialogue a) informs the character, b) moves the story forward, c) develops relationships between characters.

Dialogue isn’t just about how people talk.

What’s said can suggest what isn’t being said.

Use dialogue interspersed with description and visuals.

Choose the POV that suits your story.

(From David Lodge, ‘The Art of Fiction’.) A fictional story is unlikely to engage our interest unless we know whose story it is. Even with an “omniscient” narrative method, the writer should privilege one or two “points of view”. An objective approach may be a worthy aim in journalism, but not in fiction.

Pros and cons of 1st person POV. Pros: personal and direct, immediacy, intimacy, immediate credibility, easier to build character. Cons: limited, biased, unreliable, writing can become simplistic. When writing in 1st person, keep in mind that characters change, hence their perception changes. That has to be obvious in the narrative.

Pros and cons of 3rd person limited POV. Pros: thoughts can still be on the page, flexibility, wider view of the world, more complex language can be used (usually we think in simple words, so complex writing might sound pretentious and out of place in 1st person POV). Cons: distance (he/she).

GOD MODE. Or, commonly, 3rd person omniscient. You can jump in and out of characters’ minds, but there’s a danger when writing with such freedom. Be aware of structural harmony. Don’t write 10 pages in Sally’s POV and then jump into omniscient.

Use free indirect speech (1st person thoughts in italicized form, eg. No!) to eliminate the distance in 3rd person POVs.

Change POV with reason. Don’t suddenly jump to another POV just because it is interesting. Plan it. Make the change of the POV deliberate and make the reason clear.

Give equal weight to all POVs.  

Setting

The setting of a story is mediated through a character’s experience. It amplifies the theme. It shouldn’t be an arbitrary decision. The setting can make achievements more difficult for characters.

For children, places have magical properties, they are places of significance. The place of someone’s childhood can transform later in the novel, because the character has transformed. There’s a fluidity of meaning attached to places. But keep in mind that, places don’t change. Characters do.

How a character views a place is stated through the language we use.

When writing about a place that exists, have fidelity at the facts.

Editing

Be open to ideas changing.

If it’s not working after 3-4 rewrites, cut it out!

Make sentences active. Things don’t happen to characters. They do things.

Pay attention to rhythm.

Every sentence needs to have a reason to be there.

Usually, we overwrite in dialogue. Use context. Dialogue should be suggestive, rather than explicit.

Edit backwards, because perfectionism kicks in at the beginning.

Isolate. Edit single parts of the story. A chapter, a scene.

Read aloud. It will help find long sentences, pretentious words and unreadable language.

When words become over-familiar, put it down, give it to someone else to read.  

What to look out for: a) Character confusion. Make sure minor characters are introduced properly and find subtle ways to remind your readers who they are. b) Too much exposition. c) Plot holes, inconsistencies - there must rational reasons for coincidences, you must be able to provide logical and credible reasons behind the actions of a character. d) Over-written description.

What to do when editing: cut things out, put new things in, change sentence order and structure, look for repeated words, strengthen verbs (or prune), expand, trim, look for continuity errors, change order of events, introduce a delay in the reveals, rewrite using another POV or tense, determine if each sentence is pulling its weight.

Techniques: a) Prune. Delete text you don’t need. b) Isolate repetitions and delete or substitute with synonyms (look out for pretentious words). c) Cut and paste paragraphs to change order and rearrange. d) write a whole new draft, only looking to the previous one for factual material. e) Use a reader.

Bibliography

Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemingway (suggestive dialogue)

Concrete Island., by J.J. Ballot (how setting makes goals harder to achieve)

Driving Through Sawmill Towns, by Les Murray (lyricism, setting)

The Art of Fiction, by David Lodge (POV)

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

On Writing, by Stephen King

[gracemarkss]

i really do think we lose out on a lot by cutting ethan from the pilot. so much of what we learn about scully in subsequent episodes and seasons - her relationships with her father, with jack, with daniel; her experiences in never again and how she describes her relationship to authority; the themes of normalcy and expectation, desire and fear, what you should want vs what you actually want, letting yourself want; about having a life and drawing lines and getting out of the car…once you learn about jack, ethan makes so much sense.

how much time passed between her time at the academy and dating jack and her assignment to the x files? months, a year at most maybe? with the revelations in lazarus, you start to wonder, what made her go from a superior decades older than her who’s intensity is his downfall to a regular run of the mill guy in her peer group? when she talks about other fathers in never again, taken with everything she’s said about wanting “a life”, it becomes a bit more clear - this was a course correction. it’s all the more clearly drawn in all things, another taboo relationship with a man she could never bring home. is it “normal” to date your teacher, have emotional affairs with married professors twice your age? is that what good catholic girls do? can you bring these men to sunday dinner with your parents’ pastor? so ethan is a conscious choice. an experiment in normalcy. an attempt at the clean cut boyfriend that you can bring home to dad, with an eye on the house in the suburbs, the picket fence, the 2.5 kids. she doesn’t not want it. she wants to want it. it’s what girls from her background are expected to do. missy certainly isn’t going to. so it’s up to her. and she’s already rebelled so much already, with her career choices. she can do this. she can want this. she can be a good daughter. she can make this work.

but then there’s the assignment. then there’s mulder. then there’s passion and intensity adventure and a fierce dedication to the truth, to helping people, to a dogged pursuit of justice (whatever form that might take). there’s the adrenaline rush over lost time beside empty graves in the rain. there’s this strange man you just met being so careful with your vulnerability, and handing his to you in kind. how can a weekend out of town with ethan compare to this? what’s the house and the fence and the sunday dinners compared to this?

so ethan is is out. the experiment in normalcy has failed. but the fear lingers. there are still expectations to meet. there are still parts of her that wants it. she could get it if she really tried. it’s something that she comes back to over and over again, fear vs desire, the contradictions in all the things she wants and needs, the heavy weight of expectation, both from others and her own. and i think it’s all communicated that much more clearly and powerfully when ethan’s presence is maintained in the pilot.

[physalian]

How to Make Clean Romance Entertaining

@bananasugarwarrior ask and you shall receive

As an ace/arospec, I approach writing romance very differently than many authors and this is kind of my wish-fulfillment list more than anything.

Biggest detractor of implying anything in scenes you didn’t write: You don’t have those scenes to explore character development. I touched on this in What No One Tells You About Writing #6 and the problem I ran into a few times when writing ENNS and other works is that if you fade to black, you can’t continue important conversation or an exploration of boundaries, or fluffy new emotions, if they’d otherwise be in those missing scenes. Sex scenes are, unfortunately, prime real estate for some rich character development.

So you have to work all that rich character development around it. It’s up to you where you want to draw the line of “use your imagination” but everything up to the missing smut, and after, remains more prime real estate. You have loads of other options to explore clean intimacy and some I borrowed from this list that I reblogged about ways to show non-sexual intimacy between characters.

There’s more to a relationship to explore between your characters than just how good each other is in the bedroom. Here’s a few suggestions:

Tragic Backstory stuff and emotional boundaries

One teaching the other a niche or important skill to succeed/survive

A common physical threat, like monetary problems, job insecurity, sickness, or an actual challenge/quest/adventure/mission

A common emotional threat, like a lack of communication, or exercising an anxiety or phobia, or issues over speaking their minds

A common goal: Marriage, children, a new car or home, competing for joint acceptance into a team/group/club/prize competition

There’s also plenty for your love interests to think about their significant others aside from how sexy they are and how badly they want to get in their pants.

Introvert A can love how much B is an extrovert, or vice versa

A loves that B is good with animals, or children, the elderly, etc

A can love B’s skill and passion for their hobbies or a movement they believe in, or their stances on morality and the actions they take to back it up

A can love B’s skill as a teacher, their patience, kindness, and understanding

A can love B’s relationships with their friends and family, their maturity (or lack thereof), their work ethic

A can love B’s quirks and tics, like how they organize things or if they sing in the shower or how they dance when they’re listening to headphones

Point being:

And take this with a grain of biased salt because I’m ace and think sex is superfluous anyway: If you can’t write your characters in love with each other without sex, I won’t believe they’re in love with sex. Fiction, for me, that takes the narrative shortcut of “these two are the main couple of course they’re going to get together, I don’t have to do any work on writing why they’re in love you just came here for sex” annoy me, and quite a lot of other people, too, if the amount of gay ships that ignore the canon hetero couple are anything to go by.

The arc of their relationship doesn’t have to culminate in sex. Their arc should be specific to what these two characters want to achieve out of a romantic relationship. For a lot of people, that’s sex, but for others, maybe it’s just someone to cuddle on the couch with and watch movies, or someone they can finally trust and let in and be emotionally vulnerable with. Someone they can explore the town with, or travel, or take to dinner. Someone who doesn’t belittle them or laugh at them or disregard their interests.

Substitute relationship climaxes other than sex:

A finally trusts B with a secret they’ve been hiding for fear of ridicule, and B accepts them wholeheartedly (not Liar Revealed)

A and B finally perfect some routine they’ve been slaving over for months (like a dance or if they’re combat partners, a difficult maneuver)

A has been in love, but in doubt, and finally understands that B is The One when B is the only one to show up for A’s big speech/recital/presentation/gallery that no one else cares about

A has never let themselves be in love and it’s something wholly unspectacular that completely bowls them over with an epiphany

A is touch-averse and their biggest leap into physical intimacy is a huge hug, and B can’t be prouder of them

A and B narrowly survive some dangerous situation and have a serious realignment of priorities and newfound mad respect for each other

Actually, circling back to the whole “gay ships that ignore the canon hetero couple” thing:

This has been said before but if you’re looking for how to write a romantic relationship without sex, look no further than the male leads of many mainstream pieces of pop culture. Here, the presumption of romance isn’t built in, thus the writer has to actually put in effort to make these two characters like and respect each other, and give them things to talk about that isn’t just flirting. That’s what makes them feel more believable than the main man’s relationship with the cardboard lady lead.

[missmarveledsblog]

I'll show you different ( joel miller x reader) part one

Summary : y/n ( peach ) is learning to be free , learning to be her own woman again. Since life wasn't so easy for girl she ran from one monster into hands of another now back in her hometown back with her grandfather she learns being free is lot harder than she thought but lucky for her there's a couple of brothers help her along the way .

Warning : mentions and allusions to domestic violence and child abuse. Slightly angst but not much .

It’s funny when you hear thing repeated to you , that you begin to believe them and absence and time makes you take a step back and you realize how truly fuck it all is , when it takes an outside look to see the toxicity . y/n would always be indebted to her friends . she was a runaway , a product of a cycle that kept repeating from her mother to now her. She was afraid when she was younger no one would believe her so to escape her father she ran with the help of fake id , she crossed country ended up away from one monster to the hands of another . she thought he was one to save her , she should of seen the mask he held perfect man saving her like a damsel in distress . looking back it was stupid to believe it all but thank to good surprising people she was able to escape and only one place she could go that had family was austin texas , she was born and bred , only family consisted of her grandfather probably the only man in her life that didn’t hurt her , one that loved her no matter what . she felt guilty not seeing him in so long and yet when she showed up on his door step he said sorry , he apologized for not protecting her as if he was the one to let her down.

He set her up in one if his houses , his old home that he was going to rent out but couldn't due to it Being The one He shared with his wife. She spent many times in the confines of these walls Everytime her mother was in er or her father in jail . The house held the only happy memories from her broken past . She was happy to be home though this was always home whether it was just her or her grandparents This was her safe space , her breather The one place that didn't have fear laced In the foundations .

She Stood looking over the garden , knowing to sass her grandfather for its state . She checked the old shed door almost falling off The hinges But the things she needed taken care of pulling Them out And heading placing Them along the porch only thing she couldn't do was put on the gloves Those ones that kept her grandmother's hands safe tending to the once beautiful rose bushes. No those went into a draw In the house to be kept safe . She wrote list smiling at the freedom Of being just able to leave and come back without a fight Or more To ensue After . Checking the car she'd bought second hand , like it was second nature make sure nothing or none one was lurking Waiting . She watched the town passing By one she grew up in seeing the change and yet it was still the same . Few saying their hellos and what not she could tell it was to fish information out , the faux Friendly manners to fuel the gossip pressing at tip of their tongues . She and her grandfather even held A little bet on it one she was winner of the moment she got his text standing in hardware store .

Eyes scanning the aisle looking at the buckets of paint all looked the same and yet All claiming to be the best for this and that . She moved back trying to make out The buckets up higher only for her back to hid a solid Mass and clash of Metal making her tense up .

“ woah easy there darling” the voice rasped making her spin to see what or who she hit.

“ shit I am so sorry here let me help” she spun picking up the bit And bobs She knocked From his hands .

“ which one you need” he asked softly head nodding To the shelf .

“ white paint one up there says it weather bearing , I need like two cans “ she shrugged going to hand his thing only he Walked up effortlessly reaching for the ones she wanted . “ good brand actually does the job Too” he chuckled placing Them in her cart , glancing at other thing that sat there .

“ I hope so still getting used to the heat again it's something” she nodded finally handing His things to him. “ well thank you and sorry again for before” all she said heading off .

“ hey wait if you need help with anything build , repair heres my card” he smiled pulling it out and holding It out.

“ thanks … Joel but i got it covered” she glanced to the card.

“ actually I'm tommy work's my big brother , but we actually work in construction and since I'm guessing your new To town well handy man is handy to have right” he chuckled.

“ well thank you tommy but I'm Not new to town just back and I'll hold on to “ she sighed before completely leaving him standing there like a boy lost in dreamland.

“ tommy what you doing standing around, John's waiting” a gruff Snapped the man from his dreamy state.

“ met the hottest girl in town joel give a man a minute ” he smiled Brightly .

“ you said that Friday night too “ the older miller Rolled his eyes .

“ no this ones different I can feel it” he chuckled as two headed Get rest of their supplies.

The two brothers heading home for lunch Tommy miller non stop Chatting over the mystery Girl , while joel learned To drown his Little brother out knowing The man would move on , glance at the car cross the street wondering who the mystery tenant was knowing his boss wasn't In a rush to rent that property out at all. Seemed to special for him to do so but didn't question much when he did event catch the new car parked out there once no trouble was brought To the street well it was fine By joel .

Tommy eyes widened as He caught the person standing on the porch. “ that's her man that one from hardware Store” he clapped his brother excitedly On the shoulder.

Hell his brother was right she was beautiful, yet he even from where he stood he could tell she was way too young for him she barely looked mid twenties probably College kid needing place to stay he reckoned.

�� I should say hey welcome her to the neighborhood” tommy winked .

“ though it was her” the voice Of miss Benson taking A stand beside them sad look on her face. “ that boys is john granddaughter y/n, now don't Bother poor girl I'd say it hard being back here” her words more pointed to the younger of The two men.

“ hard, how ?”.

“ y'all not heard What happened surprised with the mouths Around here , her mama was killed By her daddy girl ran away when she was 16 all way across the country , think it was new York guess she finally came back “ she sighed remembering the little pick of a thing that used to stay in that very house.

“ shit That is ..” tommy voice dropped.

“ he got life and he should of gotten the needle” she scoffed. “ hey peach “ she called making girls head shoot over.

“ miss Benson you still here huh?” She smiled although staying away taking in the two men standing til gaze feel On one .

“ I ain't following you darling , that brother I was telling you about We live here” tommy chuckled as three headed over.

“ how you doing sweet girl , good to See you back” the elderly Woman smiled softly .

“ I Don't think all have those same feeling but you alway been Exception to most” peach shook her head shyly .

“ so your grandpa Is our boss and landlord” tommy smiled bright flashing his flirty grin only to return a head nod back .

“ you fixing up your grandmother's garden ,about time someone did I'm sick of giving out That stubborn man” miss Benson chuckled.

“ he got mouthful from me too , but he ain't got green thumb is his Excuse” She rolled her eyes.

“ well if you need anything you got our card” tommy winked again she didn't bat a lash at the action.

“ thank you again I don't think I do “ she smiled softly trying not to come off rude Or anything .

“ welcome party has arrived “ the cheery Voice called .

“ of course it has , although not happy I find out she here Days later “ miss Benson narrowed Her eyes.

“ letting girl settle In before you start with your casseroles is all Ellis “ he chuckled .

“ my fault miss Benson , just needed time to be back” she smiled Weakly it wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth either.

“ I'll drop by Once your settle peach good Seeing you” the old woman smiled.

“ we best get our lunch but need anything darling” tommy smiled .

“ I got your card “.

“ come on , it was nice to meet you y/n” joel nodded.

“ you too , pop I got your Food ready come in when you finished” she smiled heading Into the house not Really used to the social Proprietary ties Being back .

“ hey boys y'all wouldn't mind keeping eye on her while she there , you know young girl living a lone and all that?” john Asked but felt their was more to his words .

“ course we don't not one bit” Joel called back something was different about the girl , he'd give that much to tommy but he couldn't place his finger On it. Something she was hiding. Some thing clouded over her like weight of world was on her Shoulder So to say joel was intrigued was understatement

Part two,

[shovellyyy]

Uncle Sukuna, aka Mr Billy Badass of the Itadori family, hates when people mess with his family.

He'd never admit it out loud, though. He'd rather choke on a nail than tell anyone.

He teased and proded at Jin's patience since day 1. In high school, never hesitating to leave puffs full of glitter in his locker, or draw on his face in his sleep.

If anyone else were to do those things, or dare say a word about him, he wouldn't hesitate to do even worse. He'd throw their textbooks over the roof of the school and fill their lockers with slugs.

He felt insatiable pleasure in watching their faces contort in agony or fear while they lived through what's the most embarrassing moment of their high school careers.

He just didn't expect his protectiveness to grow in tenfold when he got a nephew.

Yuuji was a child too good for the world, truly. He was nice to everyone, albeit as naive as a 5 year old is of course. Even as a baby, he was as jolly as one could be.

When he started kindergarten, Yuuji unfortunately learned that not other kids were so nice. It was a lesson for Sukuna too.

As he was picking Yuuji up from school one day in place of Jin, he noticed Yuuji had unusual scuff marks on his face.

"What happened, brat?" Sukuna asked after he buckled Yuuji into the bumper seat.

Yuuji was silent, but before he could speak, he began to sob. "Y-yoshino hit me because I asked him t-to play catch!"

Sukuna prided himself on his control. He was an adult, of course.

He had just never experienced the amount of rage as he's feeling now.

He tells Jin what happens when he gets home before dinner, and Jin talks to Yuuji about it. They decide to talk to the principal the next morning. Sukuna insists on going no matter how much Jin tells him it's unnecessary.

Unfortunately, the principal is a tad less than helpful. Sukuna would've preferred more flare, but instead he just calls this Yoshino kids parents for a meeting.

In an instant, Sukuna sees where the brat gets it from. The kids dad and mom both showed up, and yet only the dad is speaking.

"I doubt he meant it. I mean, why should he play with someone who's not as skilled as him?"

Really? All that confidence in a 5 year old over one fucking game of catch?

Sukuna let his body speak for his brain. He remembers it in flashes:

1. He's standing up.

2. There's screaming.

3. The guy is on the floor with a busted nose. (Probably broken)

4. Sukuna's being dragged out by Jin.

He comes to when they're in the car. It appears that Jin decided to pick Yuuji up early from school while they were there.

Yuuji's babbling happily over something he and his friends Megumi and Nobara crafted during art time.

Jin, on the other hand, is glaring out the windshield.

"You can't just do that, Ryomen." Jin mumbles quietly enough so only Sukuna can hear.

Really, he doesn't give a fuck.

"I'd do it again."

[daily-haley]

Suicidal Bus Ride

I brushed it off once since accidents happen all the time, but now this is concerning. Looking into the rearview mirror at the elderly man who occasionally wears a smile, I can tell something isn't right. I got a chill when I first entered the bus. Not from the freezing air conditioning, but because Driver Joe didn't seem his usual self.

There was never a day where he would allow his emotions to get the better of him. He greeted every customer with a smile and told us to enjoy our day as we left. But today, he hasn't said a word to anyone. I should know, as I'm the second person on the bus today.

The gentleman seated in the back with gray headphones over his ears has his head bobbing all over the place. Usually, he gets off before me, and Joe would walk back to wake him once we arrived at his stop, but neither of those things happened today.

Carefully, I look at the other passengers, seeing if anyone else feels that something is off. Not everyone is familiar to me, but the gentleman wearing the tailored brown suit seated two rows behind me makes me feel at ease.

“Excuse me.” I wave to gather his attention. Once he looks up, I remove the earbuds from my ears. “Can I ask you a question?”

The man nods and slides into the empty seat next to him. I pick up my belongings—just a leather satchel, and join him. “Hi, I'm Fiona.” I give a quick smile.

“Franky.”

“Are you familiar with our driver? Joe?” I try to be as discreet as possible and lower my head out of Joe's sight.

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“The gentleman in the back was supposed to get off two stops ago.”

Franky looks over his shoulder before going back on his phone. “I don't see the problem. What's your concern?”

Something's weird with Joe, jackass! Is what I wanted to blurt out. But everyone on this bus is living their own lives, and Franky just so happens to be the anxious employee who's always late to work.

“Never mind.” I sigh. “Sorry to bother you.” I take my things and return to my seat. Maybe I'm the odd one. Joe's allowed to have a bad day just like everyone else. I put my earbuds back in and look out of the window, waiting for the landmarks that let me know I'm near my stop.

Minutes pass by. Realistically, it's been six. Franky then gets up and draws attention to himself by saying, “Hey man! That was my stop. Why didn't you slow down?”

Joe. The driver. Never apologizes. Not a word comes out of those pale, chapped lips. He keeps his eyes on the road and actually swerves a little too hard to the left, causing Franky to lose balance.

The mother with a young child seated rows in front of me shrieks at the sudden movement, and a glass from the back row smashes onto the floor. Something’s wrong. I get up from my seat and bang on the plexiglass surrounding Joe.

“Hey Joe!” I call his name. “What's the big idea? You're being reckless with your driving, and some people missed their stops!”

Joe never acknowledges me.

“What the hell, man?!” Franky makes his way up front, completely vexed—and rightfully so. “I'm going to report you if you don't stop this bus right now!” he threatens.

Joe doesn't say a word. Instead, he makes a hard turn to the right and opens the door.

My jaw falls slack watching Franky fall out of the doors. His eyes filled with shock and fear. I squeeze my eyes shut hearing the screeching of car tires behind us. I don't know if he's dead or alive, but the hairs along my arms stand tall with chills along my spine.

Joe just killed Franky! He's not right in the mind! I let go of the triangle hand bar and run to the back of the bus, banging on the windows.

The woman with the young child starts screaming bloody murder, and the remaining passengers finally come to their senses, realizing we're all going to die if we stay on this bus.

The guy who had dozed off to sleep is woken by his head banging on the bus’s window.

“Help us get out of here!” I alert him to Joe going crazy, seeing that we need some muscle if we intend to live.

“Hey!” The young man takes off his headphones and charges to the front of the bus, attempting to fight Joe for the wheel.

I don't know if telling the gym bro made things worse for everyone, but Joe drives us onto a ramp. Next thing I know, we're airborne.

Everything that happens next goes by in slow motion. I see my life flashing before my eyes. All of the things I regretted come to mind—the argument I had with my mother last month, missing my younger brother's graduation to get high with my friends—and for the first time in my life, I don't feel invincible.

[nordickies]

Could we have a little more Estonia and Finland? I just love the way you draw them ^v^

Finland and Estonia's relationship is something so special, and any interaction they have makes me full of joy. But maybe it's one of those things only Finns and Estonians understand - these two connect so much more with each other than they do with the rest of the Nordics or Baltics

Some of my random views on their relationship are under the cut

Finland and Estonia have known each other for as long as they can remember. These two cultures have always interacted and traded; after all, they only have 80 km (~50 miles) of sea between them. And I am not opposed to the idea that they're actually related! They have a lifelong bond and have been with each other through some of their worst moments. Sometimes Finland and Estonia feel like only they truly understand one another, and everyone else is an outsider in their world. There is a lot of love, validation, and support between them!

Estonia should be older than Finland, and he has a lot more life experience than him. In their youth, Estonia was the protective one with great skills, who didn't fear other nations around them, while Finland was too young to understand what was happening. I would argue Estonia can be even more intimidating than Finland if he really wanted to be. Even Sweden didn't dare to mess with him (at first). Estonia was a wild one back in the day, never letting go without putting up a fight, but since then, he has become more calculative. Simply put, Estonia is the brain, while Finland is the brawn. You can see it in the way they approach things, too; Estonia is more knowledgeable but careful due to his experiences, making sure to plan things way up ahead and taking a long time to trust others. Meanwhile, Finland is more trusting and stays neutral in many matters. Because of his people-pleasing personality, Fin just doesn't want to be enemies with anyone. Estonia, however, finds it impossible to sustain. These two have been under the same rule twice, but their experiences have been very different

Finland values their relationship highly and spends a lot of time with Estonia, though Estonia sometimes sees Finland as a little too dependent on him. Finland can be tiresome at times and doesn't always understand Estonia's worries, but Estonia knows Finland loves him deeply and would do anything for Estonia, even against orders. There have been times when their leaders haven't approved of their cooperation, yet they have always found sneaky ways to support each other

They're poets, just like the rest of the Baltic Finnic people, and music plays a huge part in their life, especially for Estonia. Estonia has an amazing singing voice and produces music in his free time, but Finland is more skilled with lyrical writing and instruments. Their "alien" status among other Europeans and dying roots have driven them to cooperate more together to preserve their heritage and traditions

They share similar lifestyles and common interests, to the point that they can almost read each other's minds. They both have a great sense of humor and a lot of insider jokes. Estonia and Finland are both silly and curious, constantly getting stupid ideas they just have to try out. Estonia is very clever and a bit of an inventor. These guys have come up with the wildest usages for old vehicles and electric scooters. Speaking of cars, these two are crazy (but skilled) drivers. Both countries are known for their cold-nerved WRC champions, so it's a hobby that they share. They're daredevils who want to go fast on rural forest roads or frozen lakes. To them, it's a ton of fun - for others, it's a nightmare. Estonia and Finland can turn anything into a challenge, like throwing various items, seeing who can stay in the sauna for the longest, or competing about wife-carrying. They have a lot of competitiveness but in a healthy way. Fin and Eesti are happy to compliment and cheer each other on. All they wanna do is have fun! (While Norway and Sweden will argue and diss one another mercilessly over the smallest of wins)

They're both party-loving people who have get-togethers all the time, usually involving alcohol and sauna. When they're intoxicated, they can begin to understand one another, which is freaky. When they hang out together, they speak a weird mixture of each other's languages, switching between Finnish and Estonian and, in some cases mixing some other language in there too. And no one else has any idea what is going on. Finland especially finds Estonia's language hilarious, and they get into some awkward misunderstandings from time to time

THEY'RE INSEPARABLE BEST FRIENDS, END OF DISCUSSION. THE IDEAL AND PURE MASCULINE FRIENDSHIP! Plus, FinEst literally says "finest"! If you ship them, all my love to you <3 But in my opinion, Estonia deserves someone less draining than Finland, hah. And male friendships can be so pure, and I want to see more of them!!

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

I've got one: an Adam that can SEE soulmates. He grins nastily as he takes a GOOD LONG look at Alastor and SMIRKS "Vox, huh? You love him, hmm? I can see it written right on your disgusting soul Al-ass-tor. Annnnd even better he's your soulmate. I kill him, I cause you unimaginable pain and suffering for eternity without touching you." And then he takes off, leaving Lute and his army to take care of the hotel--who HEARD HIM to search for Vox.

The Vees are in full out panic mode, of course. They have no idea what to do. Vox say he can carry both Val and Vel through the electricity but they need a location to go too--abd the vacation home is too far, he doesn't have the juice.

Valentino is pissed at Vox for being Alastor's soulmate, and panicking about the certain death heading their way.

Velvette doesn't care: "Take us as far as you can to the vacation home and we can steal a car!"

Alastor is RAGING. How DARE that pompous f-wit threaten what is HIS?!? (Although he is pleased Adam did announce Vox was his too all of Hell. Now no one would dare try to date Vox after he killed the moth.)

(Feel free to use :3)

Thank you anon because I definitely WILL be taking this.

No really this is good, honestly you anons are helping write the best voxal fanfic with me as well speak. I think after I finish my current writing coms today then I'll start on this story. It honestly sounds really fun and I'm a bit of a slow burn kinda gal with a passion for angst so this is definitely up my alley.

The idea of Adam coming in? Mwah!

Like imagine the way Alastor freezes the moment Adam says that stuff about going after Vox and especially before Vox finds himself having to defend the vees. Bro doesn't even know what's going on at first and that he's basically one of the reasons it's happening. Imagine his shock if Alastor does hunt him down before the angels get there, both confusion AND relief showing on his face just to see Alastor. Though there's also annoyance.

"ugh! I could have handle a few angels Alastor!" He growls after Alastor grabs them after fighting and imagine something like after Alastor saves them he and Vox are having this argument just for Vox to stop when it seems Alastor did in fact take some damage.

"a few isn't tons Vox." Alastor would most like his back while cradling a wound and Vox might as well be the one to help him clean it up, matter of fact he has too because everyone is rather fearful of the pair. Alastor doesn't want anyone to deal with the wound like a stubborn dog unless it's Vox and this could leave them a lot of time just to sit with each other. It's silent as Vox carefully cleans his wounds, gentle and careful not to do anything that would hurt even more and then as he's looking over Alastor's body he'll glare at nothing halfheartedly, brows burrowed in confusion and annoyance.

"why'd you do something so stupid?" He'll ask and I can see Alastor's ear twitching. Vox basically asks him what's his problem. Why'd he go out there to fight so many angels and over HIM of all people? He's both flattered and a bit unnerved.

If Alastor really did all that to help him then maybe he SHOULD go back to the hotel just to keep an eye on Alastor's healing though maybe it's just a way to get closer because though Vox being Alastor's soul mate is life changing on his own, knowing and seeing Alastor after such a fight and touching his wounds really manages to draw Vox in. Like he wants to be with Alastor in the same bed and everything as he heals.

I wanna say Alastor will heal with no issue but imagine a case where he doesn't. Where the angel blades hold off his healing for just long enough to where Vox is actually worried over the other man.

This could be an interesting part to rebuild their connection. Seeing Alastor almost die while showing Hell that Vox BELONGS TO HIM really makes the TV demon flustered and more than he's ever been before. (Vox likes knowing Alastor is possessive enough to literally have a battle of his own with heaven. It makes him feel special and more than he ever has before)

I'd like to say this situation really convinces Vox but with their history he's worried about getting too close even though he wants to.

He's scared of falling in love with Alastor because what it its 'not the right time' again?

Vox is definitely an over thinker in this case, will sit through the healing process for Alastor but maybe he finds Alastor's words to be a fluke? Did he really mean it? Yeah he almost DIED but he couldn't possibly- he definitely means it.

They've had their history but Vox is a runner now and Alastor wants to chase him. After all, who could know him better than his old friend and whether Vox likes it or not no one would DARE (especially after the shocking announcement that they are soulmates) take Alastor's destined spot in his life.

I honestly love these ideas and I have many myself, keep em coming y'all!

- A

[maltmealo]

Chapter 15: creature

"I envy you."

"What? Why? My life sucks."

"Your life sucks, but you can still see through the pain, And I envy you for that."

“Miss! Please stop running off like that!” he said, running after the laughing woman, ducking and weaving through the crowd.

“Why wouldn’t I run, this place is incredible!” she laughs, leaning over one of the rails that blocked her from falling off.

The man quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her away as a transportation car flew by.

“Miss, I told you not to do that.” he chastises as he yanks her out of the crowd.

He spoke more but you could hear nothing, a voiceless mouth opening and closing without purpose.

“But that’s boring! I don’t want to sit around in some stupid chair, I want to go places!” she scoffs, tearing her arm out of his grasp as he rolls his eyes.

“It is your birthright- your destiny. You need to.” the man stammers, grasping her wrist again as he pulls her towards the gleaming palace.

“She does not need to do anything.” A man in armor steps out in front of the two, the once shiny black metal coated in rust and blood, ancient and unyielding steely gaze meeting the offender, “let her go.”

“You-” the man says, backing off as he lets go of the woman, a look of fear on his face, “You are not supposed to be here.”

“I am wherever I wish to be.”

You wake up with a gasp, a thin sheen of cold sweat covering your body as you sit up, your surroundings coming back to you in a dizzying blur. You’re met with the bright cyan of Ratchet’s optics, a worried look on the giant doctor’s face.

“Are you okay?” A gruff voice asks from beside you, Ratchet looking down at you like a steel sun cascading nothing but blue light.

“Yeah, bad dream,” You say as you pull a blanket around your shoulders, shuddering at the cold sterile air surrounding you. It wasn’t hospital sterile, that would have been better than this, it was nothing, just cold air biting and cracking the inside of your nose.

“A nightmare?”

“How do you know that?” You ask, furrowing your brow as he mentions that, “I thought-”

“Arcee told me, I heard they can be quite…” He trails off, frowning, “vivid.”

Vivid was an understatement, vivid was an understatement for all the bullshit you’ve been put through because you decided to walk home once. The crash wasn’t scary, the fall was, waking up to a giant who wanted to crush you was, not being able to see the only human that interacted with you consistently was, but the crash wasn’t because technically it wasn’t a crash.

It was everything but a crash.

A crash would have been that night, the truck barreling towards you as the man grins, it was inhuman, flat teeth spread wide as the oddly blue eyes stare you down. A jack-o-lantern was a bad description, it was worse than the fear you felt as a kid when your parents let you go up to your first house alone, the eerie decorations seemed too real for your eight-year-old mind, and the glowing orange grins turned demonic.

But that was worse.

But this dream, nothing was inherently scary about it, but it made your heart race, and your mind grew fuzzy as your legs screamed at you to run away.

“Yeah… a nightmare.” You nod in agreement, not really sure what to think about the faceless dream people.

Now that you think about it, their whole bodies were blurry, like memories you couldn’t quite catch between your fingers, the faceless people you swore you’d met once but can’t remember for the life of you.

He nods, turning back to the monitor as he focuses on whatever is displayed on the screen.

You lay back down as the silence draws your mind to home, where your family was waiting. They must have been worried, your friends must have been worried. You missed home, the smells, the sun, only having to worry about whether or not you you’d pass that stupid exam for becoming a biologist or whether or not you should drop out.

“Ratchet, who's Primus?” You ask, rolling over on your side to look up at him. Yes, him, that ancient god would have been guiding Optimus and supposedly the creator of the entire race, he certainly must be able to help you get back home, if not send you home immediately.

“Primus?” he asks, surprised by the question, turning back to look at you with a furrowed brow, “He’s our creator, some like to think of him as our god, who told you about him?”

“Optimus told me,” You say as you prop yourself up on your elbows, “If he’s your creator, then he could send me home, And stop the war! Why haven’t you guys tried to find him?”

“Because he’s been dead for eons, he gave up his life to defeat Unicron,” Ratchet said with a pained look, he ran a servo down his face before he crouched down in front of you, “unicron is the destroyer, he eats planets, he saw what Primus had created and wished to use us to fuel his own desires to destroy the universe.”

“Then how could Optimus-”

“He didn’t,” Ratchets speaks grimly, his voice low, “You cannot speak of this to anyone else, understood?”

“Why? If it isn’t Primus that he’s speaking then maybe we should figure out who is-”

“(Y/N),” Ratchet says firmly, a stern look exchanging the grim look of fear on his face, “Human and cybertronian processors aren’t so different.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, frustrated from not getting one straight answer out of him. You wanted to help! And yet Ratchet treated you like a child listening in on something they shouldn't have.

“It means that everyone on this team is under incredible stress,” Ratchet answers, eventing before he pokes your head with a finger, “Just like you, a cybertronian processor does all it can to cope with that stress including…”

“Visions from god.” You finish, the frustration fading as you understand what is truly going on.

“Yes,” Ratchet confirms, nodding as he stands back up and goes to his monitor, “You understand why you cannot tell anyone this?”

“Yeah… I get it.”

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

Optimus stands at his berth, looking down at the flat dreamless surface that seemed to have been the chosen medium of his god. Primus had offered him guidance before, but now, it was fragmented, sort flashes that slipped through his servos as soon as he woke up. The final message was to protect the little human that had been tossed haphazardly in the middle of an eternal war.

He would have done it regardless of whether or not Primus had told him to, you were innocent, simply a bystander who had gotten pummeled by luck and fate, now on the constant verge of danger, death, and pain.

You had looked so… afraid when you woke up on the cold metal table, he knew you were in shock but it didn’t stop the fear from twisting the squishy faceplate, or the scream of fear that left your intake that seemed to make his spark jump.

His berth was taunting him now, laughing at him for ever believing he could recharge in peace, he had people to protect, plans to make, and someone to change. He spins his dentra clenching as he looks back at the data tablet on the table.

He had a plan, or was supposed to, he was only a mech, not Primus, not even a good prime at this point, the blood of countless autobots-his friends on his hands.

They were scattered across the universe, either floating in fragments in the void of space or in hiding from those who would have no quarrel ripping them apart and feeding them to scraplets. He needed more, more technology, more fighters, more everything.

Humans, they could help.

no, they couldn’t, they'd be decimated within a second, they were strong, ready to jump in head first without even looking to see what was waiting for them. He had seen countless species just as eager to help, just as strong willed and stubborn. Just like humans physically and mentally.

They were gone, now humans were the last of a rare breed that seemed to have a deathwish, even if they didn’t know it. You and the rest of the humans wanted to help, but he knew what happened if they did.

‘Not even enough for a cremation’ he once heard Fowler say when he looked at the remains of one of his men, only recognizable by the dog tags in the middle of the puddle.

The men were crowded around the body, some kneeling with their hands clasped together and their heads down, Fowler had told him it was a religious practice to communicate with a god. Faith was one of the many things keeping humans from giving up, some more then others but they had faith.

He had it, he knew Primus was helping him, but was he enough? Was he enough for those who had faith in him? For those who had looked up at him with reverence only for those very optics to reflect right back at him when they offlined in his arms.

And yet he felt shame for the humans, the puddles that were once somebody. He felt guilt, shame, anger, all things a leader was not supposed to show.

He felt it for you. For being thrown in the middle of this, for being put on a chair on the edge of a cliff and not being able to get out of it without falling off. And he didn’t know how to help.

You two were talking again, Ratchet was explaining something Optimus couldn’t hear and you were sitting on the pillows ever so diligently listening to the old doctor speak with a concerned look on your face.

“-But you shouldn’t worry about it, you need to rest and heal,” He catches the end of the conversation as Ratchet stands up and turns to him, a look of frustration laced with worry.

“Ratchet, (Y/N),” Optimus greets, coming up to you and nodding, “how are you feeling?”

“Good, my arm doesn’t hurt as much as yesterday,” You say back, smiling up at the big Prime, “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“That is good, I am glad you are healing,” He says, his optics darting off to the side.

He need something other then starting at information that never changed, the only thing rising were the death counts of the desperate organic species living on this planet.

“Um… Optimus?” You start, standing up off the blankets and stepping onto the cold metal catwalk, “Do you remember me asking you to teach me your language?”

“I do,” A distraction- no a new job, a refresher, “Why do you ask?”

“Can you teach me it now? I mean, if you’re not busy,” you ask, a hopeful glint in your eyes as you step a bit closer to the towering leader, “Please?”

He’s silent, he could, he wanted to, to spread the knowledge he had learned back on Iacon, but what if he was needed? What if something changed and he wasn’t there to immediately catch it?

“I will teach you,” He agrees finally, it would keep you content and busy, keeping you from getting involved and crushed anymore then you already are.

This was for you, he repeated in his helm, like a mantra as he picked you up from the pile of blankets securing you, being as careful as he could and setting you on his shoulder, the warmth and rhythmic pulsing of a spark with a song easing his own.

Yeah, definitely for you.

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

Molded by cruel hands but meant to be soft

Metal and rust are the main components

It was jealousy perhaps

Creatures far below my status gaining what I could never have

Change, a chance

Soft clay against molten metal

One will harden and stay

One can change, the other will remain

“Lord Megatron,” The weasel wails as his wing is twisted, “It was an accident!”

“Accident or not, you almost cost us a way to get back to Cybertron,” he growls, tossing the seeker aside, and walking up to the sniveling second in command with a scowl, “You are lucky Breakdown managed to keep that organic alive.”

“I had that stupid wrecker in my crosshairs-” He choked as Megatron kicked him into the wall, his chassis dented and energon spilling from his intake, “I was aiming for him!”

“Enough of your lies, worm,” A word he had picked up from one of the spiteful humans Soundwave had spied on, he found it fitting for the pathetic mech before him, “Leave, before I decide to get rid of you permanently.”

The sliver seeker skitters out of the room, leaving a trail of bright blue liquid behind him, it was disgustingly pathetic, a mech with a bruised ego not fighting back.

The bridge was silent once more.

Megatron moves to the display, his energon-covered pedes leaving a trail for whatever poor Decepticon to clean up later.

“Soundwave, any further reports on the human girl?”

“Okay.” he parrots from one of your previous conversations, your voice clear from his speakers, a different voice comes over, “Healing wonderfully.”

“I doubt the Autobots will let her out of their base anytime soon,” He growls, turning to his scientist as he narrows his optics, “Have you discovered where they are located yet?”

He shakes his head.

“Fine, continue with your research then,” Megatron says, turning back to the holographic screen in front of him and putting his servos behind his back, “and don’t let Breakdown near the bridge until he gets that human’s stench off of him.”

A nod and then he turns away, leaving the brooding leader alone on the bridge in a brewing stew that had been bubbling for centuries, just now starting to boil over.

Hope

They had hope

Cynical machines meant to despair

Hopeful children covered in bruises holding flowers

One can change, the other will remain

[eulchu]

these past few days i've been seeing really weird rethorics that i think should be cleared up (note: this does not reflect my feelings towards the reality of caiti and george's situation, i'm strictly speaking about the debates that have arisen as a consequence of it)

- "the friends are responsible for it" wrong. in this case, the friends are shitty. they're neglective and they worked a girl into a panic over their preconceived mistrust towards the dteam. caiti is not "the baby of the group". she does not share a considerable age difference with the rest of her group. this was a group of equals partying together, where no one was expected to hold more responsability than the rest. thinking something is "weird" doesn't necessarily equal something feels "off". just because my friends think it's weird that i was hooking up with people significantly older than me doesn't mean the situation felt "off".

it's unfair to expect someone to esentially play babysitter - if it hasn't been previously discussed, and especially when all of you are drunk, and roughly the same age. take care of your friends, always, and keep general tabs on what they're doing, who they're with, and most importantly, where they're going. but to expect to keep such an scrutizing and detailed eye on an equal that has the right to have fun as much as you is unfair and unrealistic. when someone's reaction to something unpleasant is having "no reaction", it's not out of the world to miss it. if you find yourself in a situation where you're the friend, don't berate yourself for missing it. sometimes there's no way of catching it until something has happened, and it doesn't mean you have to live the rest of your days keeping your friend in a tight leash.

sometimes these things happen - every day we stay alive, we take risks. humanity struggles with understanding why some things happen "just because", and we are always ready to conjure a "cause" that will ease our fear of uncertainity. there's ways to minimalize those risks, yes, but life like that would esentially look like living in a bubble - and even then, there's just some things you will never be able to avoid.

- "it's not victim blaming, it's victim accountability" that's not a thing in this context. straight up. victim accountability definitely exists, just not in this case. using the term "victim accountability" in the context of avoiding one-off tragedies that have one active perpetrator (ex. a robbery, sexual assault) as opposed to a tragedy that is considered an accident (ex. a fire, a car crash; in both cases we can all agree there is no actual intent behind the situation) is treacherous and a veil term to soften the blow of calling it victim blaming.

we have to draw a bold line between "should not have left the stove on" to prevent a fire <- fire is not a sentient beinig that has the conscience of wanting to start a fire. fire is not at blame because it doesn't feel blame // "should not have drunk before driving" <- the road you drive on isn't sentient. it can't push you off the road intentionally. if you crash into another car, the person behind the wheel is definitely sentient, but definitely not at blame, since they did not want to crash into someone (in the situation where you did not crash into someone with the intent of crashing into someone else) and "should have known wearing a skirt that short would increase the chances of someone else doing something bad to you" <- your innocuous behavior should not be linked to someone else's misbehavior.

it is not your responsability to measure your behavior to appease to someone's misbehavior. whilst they're still steps you can take to minimize the risk of something happening, someone else's actions will never be your responsability, not even partly. you are not responsible for someon'e elses misconduct. those who have the capacity to misconduct (the intent, the lack of social conscience, etc.), will do it -if not to you, to someone else.

someone else's behavior will never be anyone else's responsability but their own. you may play a part in it, as everyone acts as a reaction to their context (in which everyone is included) but it will never be your responsability. and i need everyone, especially young kids, to understand that.