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forgetmaenott · 1 month

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Experimentation - SHOWTIME

SUMMARY: Pomni isn't sure if Caine knows what he feels towards her, so she experiments a little bit. She's just curious. Nothing else. Nothing at all.

a/n: Title is also a double meaning for me, as this fic was written more so as practice for the sillies more than anything else. So apologies If it's a bit all over the place. I wasn't going to upload but Showtime fans are deprived of content so I will give you what you need 🙏

Pomni was far from oblivious to the things that Caine did to impress her.

Initially, it had been small attempts at making her happy--no doubt as a result of her first few adventures being particularly unpleasant. Caine didn't seem to understand most things about human responses, but it was of Pomni's understanding that it was in his programming to make everyone happy. And Pomni, from day one, had made it exceedingly clear just how unhappy she was. If anything, she was a challenge to Caine's coding, just begging to be fixed. Why wouldn't he put in a slight more effort for one of his superstars?

With time, though, his check-ins and side quests for her grew into...something else. Lingering touches on her hand or shoulder, seeking opportunities to show her, and only her, a preview of an upcoming adventure. Sometimes she caught his lingering gazes, his artificial eyes searching for validation of his work, and it made her wish to shrink away. He'd move his thumb lightly across her hand experimentally, sending a rush of nerves through Pomni's system. Or he'd fly around excitedly--often at the expense of Pomni's stomach--to show her something new he had coded into the circus. Or he'd show up in her room under the guise of a check-in, only to stay and talk with her for nearly an hour. He hung onto her every word, and Pomni had to admit to herself, she rather enjoyed his presence in those times. Getting to explain bits of her real life memories to his fascinated gaze; as she regained the pieces of what real life had been like, he was just beginning to understand it.

Just a day ago, she had found herself mindlessly recounting vague details of reality that she had once adored--the flickering of stars in a quiet night, the humming of crickets, the feeling of a slight breeze, the slight running of water nearby. She didn't know where that memory originated from, but she could still feel it. It was strange, not remembering facts but remembering feelings.

And now, she found herself recounting these thoughts as she waited for Caine on a "special adventure", staring at the way the digital stars twinkled in the night sky, and how her wisps of hair gently brushed across her face in the breeze.

His favoritism wasn't subtle, but Pomni had always tried to deny it to her friends. But now, standing here and seeing the ripples on the digital lake, she couldn't help but wonder. Was it really so bad? Wasn't it almost endearing that Caine had found himself so enamored with her? That he was falli--

"Good evening, my dear!"

Pomni stiffened at the sound of her ringmaster's enthusiastic voice, jumping out of her thoughts and flushing at the realization of what she had been considering. "AGH--Caine! How many times have I told you--"

"Ah, apologies, my dear. I just can't help but be over-the-moon about your private adventure!" Caine winked at his not-so-subtle play on words, zipping around excitedly above her.

Pomni rubbed her head. "Uh...okay...that's great," she said quietly.

"Isn't it?? I stayed up ALL night working on this just for you! Not that I need to sleep, of course," he chuckled before lowering to her level, carefully grabbing her hand in both of his, "But I did it! Just for you, dear."

"Just for me?" she repeated mindlessly. Her mind screamed the same words: AI, Program, NOT REAL, but she couldn't help but gaze again at the flickering stars and wonder--

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"O-oh." There it was. His favoritism showing itself once again, his devotion to her and her alone. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, gazing down at her hand as though he wished to memorize each detail. This was crazy. She couldn't let him be so foolish as to be interested in her, she couldn't let this go any further. "Caine--"

"Ah, ah, ah! This adventure is about you. I have SO much to show you!" His gentleness faded instantaneously from the excitement, the pressure on her hands growing tighter as he pulled her in. Before she could even process the closeness or the fluster, he grabbed her waist and graciously flew her above the lake. He set her down on a digital cloud, which she was able to step on as though it were a solid surface. She avoided looking down, tensing as she looked around her. "As your ringmaster, it is my sole purpose to make YOU and all of your co-stars happy," he exclaimed, pointing an exaggerated finger at her, "and I couldn't help but notice how your mannerisms changed when you told me about your world. My dear...I cannot return you to your world. But perhaps, I can bring your world here."

Pomni's heart skipped a beat at the gesture, which she tried to ignore. This wasn't the same Caine from her bad dreams when she'd first arrived. This was...different. Entirely different. "For...all of us?" she asked slowly.

His demeanor broke for a moment. "Ah--yes, yes. Of course! My role is to assure everyone at the circus is happy," He paused in thought for a moment before he flew down by her side and cautiously approached her, "but admittedly, you've been quite the challenge for me since you've arrived here. You're a bit stubborn, you know."

"Is that a bad thing?" Pomni cracked a smile.

"Not exactly, dear. It's one of my favorite traits of yours. It's what keeps me coming back to you," Caine said with what she assumed was a smile.

Pomni felt a light blush dust her pale face. "I don't think you know what you're saying."

Caine titled his head curiously at her. "Why is that?"

Pomni blinked. He really didn't know what he was saying, did he? Did he even know what he was feeling? Could he even feel anything?

She glanced sidelong at the flickering stars, the lake below her, the way the clouds swirled up and floated around them--enough to give her the courage to test the waters. Before she could listen to the voices in her mind screaming at her, she grabbed his gloved hand in hers. "So...you like that I'm a challenge to your purpose? Or is it something else?" she asked experimentally, hoping the quiver in her voice wasn't too obvious.

Caine's eyes widened at the sudden contact, too afraid to move his hand an inch at the risk that she would let go. Not that Pomni could see his reaction, as she was too busy looking at her red and blue shoes to avoid meeting his gaze with her flushed one. "Something...else? What would that be?"

She lightly traced her index finger along the edge of his hand. Oh, God. She didn't even know what she was doing. How does she even answer a question like that to an AI? "Well...what do you, uh, feel?" She sealed the gap between their fingers, interlacing them together carefully.

If Caine could breathe, his breath would have easily caught in his non-existent throat. "I feel that I want you to be happy."

"Because of your programming? Or...something else?" Pomni said before she could cringe at her own words. She was just asking because she was curious, that was all. She just wanted to know if he knew what romantic feelings even were, nothing more. Or so she told herself.

"Well, I want you to be happy all the time. Because of me. That is my purpose, isn't it?"

Pomni smiled half-heartedly. Intentional or not, he was making this extra difficult for her. "Yeah..." she agreed quietly, a strange pit settling in her stomach. Maybe he was just coded to be this way. Maybe she was just being extra difficult. Before she could think of anything else to say, the sudden sensation of his smooth teeth against her hand sent shockwaves up from her hand and into her digital heart. She stilled at the sensation, gaining the courage to meet his gaze as he lifted his teeth from her hand, a cartoonish flush appearing on his lower jaw.

"But, I do find myself feeling more...drawn to your happiness, dear," he admitted, looking to the side sheepishly. He brushed his thumb against her knuckles where he had left a kiss, causing Pomni to shiver. "My dear? Did I do something wrong?"

Pomni squeezed her pinwheel eues shut, tensing her shoulders. "No, no--Caine you--" she stuttered, "I..." God, what happened to her composure? She had never been like this around him before. But suddenly every movement against his hand sent chills across her body, every thing he'd done to make her happy felt significant, and--oh, God. She couldn't possibly be--

"Darling," Caine said, so quietly Pomni almost couldn't believe it was him. His hand trailed up to the curve of her chin, gazing at her so softly she felt dizzy, "you don't need to worry around me. You've taught me so much about your world, about how the human mind works. So dear...don't be afraid to teach me more."

Pomni couldn't tear her eyes away from his gaze, tongue tied by his intense adoration in his eyes. "What is it you want to know?" she asked quietly, her lips seeming to move before her mind could catch up.

"Anything you have to show me."

There was certianly no way he understood what he was implying.

And there was even less of a chance she was actively considering all the things she could show him. She blushed at the thought.

"Caine?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I love this. All of this. Everything you've added to the grounds for me. It's sweet of you, and...it really feels a bit more like home. I-I just thought you'd want to know that it...you made me happy. Thank you."

Caine's eyes glistened cartoonishly, unable to tear his eyes from her. "Pomni," he sighed, saying her name for the first time all night somehow felt more intimate than any contact they'd had, "why is it that I feel this way?"

Pomni flushed. "What way?"

"I have made you happy, my very purpose as your ringmaster. But now, I don't want to stop making you happy. I..." he tightened his grip on her hand, "I've never been close like this to anyone before. Truly. Would it be so bold as to call you a friend?"

Pomni struggled to contain an incredulous laugh--he really didn't understand what he felt, did he? "I...think you're becoming a friend to me, as well," she admitted, staring down at their hands still clasped together. He had moved the hand on her face down to hold the top of her hand, gently rubbing circles against it. In the back of her mind, she still felt the imprint of his teeth against her hand, her heart speeding up at the thought. "Caine?"

"Mm?"

"Is it...well, um...would it be okay if...I taught you, one more thing?"

"Why Pomni, I'd love nothing more than that!"

Pomni smiled. "Okay, it's just..." she hesitated, allowing herself to get caught up in the way the stars twinkled around them before tracing her hands up to his chest, then his shoulder, then below his lower jaw. She could see him gazing at her curiously, stiffening at the way her hands slid up him. Before she could regret it or think twice, she moved closer and tilted his teeth to her right before planting a quick, firm kiss to the left side of his lower jaw.

Time stilled for Caine, pupils dilating and jaw frozen slack in place as she pulled away. The stars he had created just for her reflected in his eyes, her touch lingering everywhere they made contact. He didn't even realize he had placed his hand on his lower jaw until he saw her flushed face pulling away. His tongue tied, breath stolen from his metaphorical lungs, he could do nothing but stare at the woman before him that somehow seemed more beautiful than ever under his starlight.

Pomni's heart raced at the way he was looking at her. This was all too much. Why had she even done that? What was going on with her tonight? When he stared at her, frozen in time, her face burned more and she twiddled her thumbs. "U-uh, can you put me down, now?"

It took Caine a moment to register her words. "Y-yes. Of course, darling."

He didn't even have it in him to carry her down with him. No, she had left his code too starstruck with the gesture that mystified him. He simply snapped and the two of them were by the digital lake. She walked towards it and experimentally dipped her gloved finger into the waters, relishing in the sensations around her digits.

She looked back at him with a small smile, his code seeming to thrum excitedly at seeing her joy because of him.

Her taking the next step of intimacy left him confused, to say the least. There was far less about human emotion and mind that he understood, and if anything, the static-like feelings in his chest were nothing short of a mystery to him. Perhaps he'd have to check himself for a bug later.

No matter. He shook the thoughts from his head, the feeling still lingering as her floated by her side, unable to stop smiling at her quiet demeanor. She took in every detail he had added just for her, smiling to herself.

She'd have time to regret her forwardness later. Or scream into her pillow about developing a crush on an AI. For now, there was only this moment.

"Thank you, Caine."

"Anything for you, my dear."

And he meant it.

#I said I'd write them AND I MEANT IT #this is more so writing practice though lol #to my mutuals who follow me for mental health stuff LOOK THE OTHER WAY LMAO #it’s a bit all over the place but i wanted to get something out heheh #tadc #the amazing digital circus #showtime #showtime tadc #tadc showtime #pomni x caine #caine x pomni

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enlitment · 3 months

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Camille Desmoulins and Maximilien Robespierre – doomed by the Revolution?

a second part of the answer to the ask kindly sent by @iron--and--blood - first part can be found here

Okay, so I tried to follow the sources and I ended up missing what is arguably the key question. I think that there is enough evidence that warrants seeing Camille and Maximilien’s relationship as a ‘friendship torn apart but the revolution’, but could it in fact be something more that the chain of events of the mid-1790s ended up destroying?

(aka the good old “were they gay?” question)

It’s probably not surprising to anyone that there is no conclusive evidence that would suggest that either of them was definitely queer or that they were involved in some kind of a relationship. For context, the French Constitutional Assembly did decriminalise homosexuality, since there was simply no mention of private same-sex relationships it in the penal code of 1791.

Of course, there would still be a stigma surrounding queerness, seeing how France was a Catholic country – well, up to that point. On the other hand, it is also important to remember that anyone who received a higher education at that time would be well versed in classical authors (Greek and Roman that is), so they would have a framework for a positively viewed queer attraction/relationship (I'm mostly thinking of a kind of Alcibiades/Socrates vibes here. I think it sort of fits? Well it does in my headcanon anyway...). Camille especially seemed to be really into classics, making references to classical authors, history or mythology in approximately every other sentence.

CAMILLE – VICES HONTEUX AND A POSSIBILE BICON

If we consider Camille, I think it is clear that he was attracted to women. I think that the historical sources show that he genuinely did love his wife - Lucile - although it may also be true he was bit of a cad. There is a whole deal with him and Lucile’s mother with whom he apparently exchanged some flirty letters? I honestly need to look into it more at some point.

That said, attraction to women of course doesn’t exclude attraction to men. The one thing that would suggest Camille might have pursued a same-sex relationships is the reference to “vices honteux“ (shameful vices), which Saint-Just claims were attributed to Camille by Danton. We also learn from Robespierre’s note that this refered to something that was ‘totally unrelated to the revolution’.

So we know it’s something that would be seen as ‘shameful’ behaviour, but nonetheless a private matter. Could it be interest in same-sex relationships? It’s of course hard to say, but the theory is not completely implausible. For a discussion about this, I recommend this article.

MAXIMILIEN – A CONFIRMED BACHELOR?

With Maximilien Robespierre, it gets a little more complicated. He was essentially a confirmed bachelor, living with a family that adored him but that was not his own (and also a dog. He had a dog.) Talk about a found family trope!

Some sources claim that he was engaged to Éléonore Duplay, but Robespierre’s sister for one vehemently denies this. It’s true that he could probably easily have married her – I can’t imagine her family being opposed to it, far from it probably – but the fact is that for one reason or another, he did not.

He also didn’t really seem to capitalise on his massive popularity among the Parisian women. (Though, to be fair, neither did Rousseau and he was… well I guess he was his own version of heterosexual.)

Sure, one can interpret that as Robespierre being a workaholic or putting the revolution above everything else, but I personally think it is very possible that he would be considered to be on the asexual spectrum by today’s standards.

That said, although France was moving away from institutionalised religion at that point, Catholic guilt could certainly play a role, especially in someone who prided himself in his moral conduct and was told to be rigid about the rules. So the possibility of him being closeted as an explanation for his lack of interest in women would also not be completely off the table.

As to Camille and Maximilien being together in some way? I think there is certainly a precedence for this type of relationship in adolescence. Seeing that they have studied together (and shared enthusiasm for classics probably), it is not impossible, though of course, it is highly speculative.

I think it is also fair to say that Robespierre went above and beyond for Camille until the last few months. That is something he probably would have not done for many other people. He actually said as much himself:

“Learn, Camille, that if you were not Camille, one could not have so much indulgence for you.“

Was it because Camille was universally liked by the revolutionaries for all the good he has done? Possibly, but I think one can also read more into it. It certainly suggests that Camille was special in some way, and the fact that Robespierre uses ‚one‘ instead of ‚I‘ does not necessarily mean he is not speaking about himself here.

CAMILLE AND MAXIMILIEN IN THE MEDIA

When it comes to media portrayal, the relationship often comes across as queer-coded - to an extent.

In La Révolution française, this aspect is more prominent between Robespierre and Saint-Just, but with some well-timed smiles and glances, it almost reads as a tragic love triangle between the three. There are some unfortunate implications however, mainly that the hints of Robespierre's queerness in the movie are implicitly associated with his descent to tyrany. Ugh. (And let's face it, a kind of effeminacy linked to villainy as well. Honestly, who thought that kind of portrayal would be a good idea? Kudos for making a historical movie about the French Revolution come across as homophobic I guess.)

Hilary Mantel straight-up makes Camille Desmoulins bisexual (ish?) in A Place of Greater Safety, though there are <a lot of> issues with that portrayal, as discussed here (watch me linking another mutual's great post! Frevblr is truly the best). Not sure how the relationship with Robespierre is presented here since it’s one of the books I’ve been in the middle of for months.

And then there’s Stanisława Przybyszewska of course. She would honestly warrant a separate post, but long story short: in her works, there is no doubt about the fact that she portrays the relationship between them as queer. She invokes the Erastes/eromenos dynamic between them (quite explicitly, referring to Camille as an ephebe at one point) and makes the attraction between the two seem palpable. There is plenty of queer (under)tones to be found in The Danton Case, but in Last Nights of Ventôse , she straight up interprets the fall of the Dantonists as Camille running into Danton’s arms to spite Robespierre for snubbing him and rejecting his devotion (romantic advances?). And it gets quite physical – not in a way that would warrant an E rating, but it would certainly deserve one for the sheer emotional intensity.

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crushedsweets · 1 year

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What about some lulu headcannons since you seem to like her? :)

oh anon u are spoiling me.... heres a little sketch of her college life. let me begin . . tw for general creepypasta things, abuse, bullying, death, etc

ok. so a lot lulus og stuff is gross obviously (although a majority of the og creepypastas have gross origins/creators). as a kid, i was pretty attached to her, but looking back , its just. ugghhghgh. which is why i want to try giving her her own horror type story while still following some of the core things that made her her. BEGONE WITH MIDDLE/HIGH SCHOOL KILLERS...

lulu is 24 but described as 'physically 14' which bugs me esp bc theres so much emphasis on her body being like an adult. and frankly i am not crazy about yet another 'little kid bullied/abused then goes crazy/demonic' story so i scrapped the bullshit ‘is 24 but looks 14 but is drawn like she’s 24!’. So I decided to just to make make her whole zalgo poisoning occur later in life. since its now set in university, a handful of things changed. mayhaps she knows jack ?

she grew up as a rich girl being put through several private schools growing up. she wasnt the smartest, she wasnt the most social, and while i think that the og story did this really fucking poorly, she did deal with harassment cuz she developed early. ranged from people calling her a slut for the same clothes as a thinner girl, to getting dress coded for no good reason, to rumors, etc. so, she's being bullied by her peers, though its moreso a ton of gossip rather than stuff in her og. overall school sucked for her

finally she goes to university. shes away from all those people, away from her helicopter parents, away from dress codes and loneliness. she tries SO hard to keep up the perfect daughter persona in public bc she knows shes walking on thin ice(having been punished for things out of her control all her life), with a wardrobe full of pencil skirts and button ups, but then she finally meets this guy named josh. but that shit gets seriously exhausting. and as many kids in her position do, she wants to Rebel .. she starts going to parties and whatnot w her edgy ass roommate. random garage shows, raves, generally reckless behavior etc. its not her fully her thing but she's there and having fun.

idk his name in the og story but there was that guy that led her on just to further abuse her. i changed him up and made him some guy in a frat that she met at a rando party. he was so sweet to her the first time they met, they talked for a long time at the party, he was cool overall and she never ever craved attention like this before - she never even GOT attention like this before, coming from an all girls school, so she clung. but he wasnt actually gonna date her, so he said some bullshit excuse about 'you know how greek life is, my frat wont let me date u unless u join this specific sorority!! soz' and he chose the worst, most clique-y sorority that has the most insane hazing ritual for girls that arent sought after. he thought there was no way she'd give it a shot and he could get her off his back. a dick move, but he didnt think she'd do it.

but, she does - and the hazing is fucking shit. the girls in the sorority are worse than the girls in highschool (and maybe in cliché fashion, one of her highschool bullies ended up in the sorority before her?). it starts off as things like 'oh you gotta buy your sorority sisters coffee for a week' to 'oh you have to be drunk/high throughout all your classes for a week' to completely deranged shit like branding yourself or slashing a professors tires. things nobody in their right mind would do, typically.

i havent decided exactly how exactly lulu hits the point where they think she's dead, but a group of sorority girls think she is. they panic, and in their panic cannot feel her pulse or hear breathing. she's completely unconscious, cold, and frankly on the way to death - so they take her to slenders forest and get to work

they bury her in a shallow grave, unaware of all the different demons residing in the forest watching one of the most gruesome displays of humanity. if youve watched girl from nowhere, theres a scene where nano gets buried alive by a group of her classmates then she wakes up . . imagine that.

im thinking, similar to the operator, zalgo can infect people as well . . maybe people on their death beds ? anyway, lulu's infected. long after the girls run off, lulu manages to dig herself out of the grave. shes wheezing, coughing, sobbing, its dark and cold and foggy, and she now has to come face to face with zalgo making some weird 'i saved you, i want something in return.' and there goes her eyes !!! rip lulu. maybe zalgo did it cuz hes a dick, maybe he actually needs human parts to seal the deal.

theres some more interaction but overall lulu doesnt have a ton of demon powers or anything. new wounds heal quickly, but her past ones will never will. she can be eerily quiet, popping in and out with fog, doesn't need food/water/sleep. . she does have kinda crazy strength(no agility or speed), but she's so mentally weak it does nothing for her

for a while she does just wander the forest in complete and utter mourning, until one of the proxies finds her and is like Oh Fuck that's not human. toby describes her as a zombie. so she's another job for them to handle

eventually they settle her in the hospital with ann.. the hospital is likely an area that experiences more fog, being closer to the lake perhaps, so it just makes sense to put her in an area she can see. it took a while for lulu to calm down bc she now has a pretty big fear around women , and the proxies have to CONSTANTLY come around and check in for a while, cuz she feels safer with them. maybe they tried putting her with jack but jack said absolutely the fuck not. bc lulus legitmately scary. she's constantly croaking, crying, wheezing, dripping blood everywhere she goes, etc.

she eventually gets along with ann, who thinks lulus cute and fun to chat with. i made a joke about them doing tiktok dances together but like. i could see it. maybe ann reminds lulu of her roommate, the only girl whos been completely nice to her ? dunno. (despite the roomie being the reason lulu got into the partying and stuff)

mmmmmm yeah. that is basically the entire rewrite .

i likely wont include her too much in the story just because the rewrite is so drastic+shes not all too popular but i used to feel very fondly towards her when i was 10 and i do think her character cconcept is super cool (the fog, the eye stuff, zalgo poisoning etc). theres just hella weird stuff but its a creepypasta from 2013 idk what we expect

#hcs #creeped #asks #lulu creepypasta #lulu #sweetart #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon

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logan-lieutenant · 1 month

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ok i KNOW i’m late to the party but here are some of my headcanons about the “Damnnnnnnn. Someone’s been out buying new clothessss$” (and i did have to zoom in to count all the n’s)

running bit/inside joke: so the bit started weeks or months before, when lando started to tease oscar about his sense of style– or lack there of. “literally everything is shorts and a t-shirt. you have like two outfits.” “i don’t need anymore outfits.” “you look like a school kid!” “i still look older than you–” “seriously what’s wrong with buying new clothes?” just unnecessarily being a <little shit> about it. and then whenever lando shows up to the paddock wearing something mildly ridiculous and awkward but at least eye catching, he waits for someone to comment and then he says, “yeah, you know it’s sad i was gonna just wear shorts and a t shirt but i couldn’t find any” while looking directly at oscar. and ofc oscar’s rolling his eyes and trying not to laugh and like you literal dumbass what is your problem but of course he laughs anyway because it’s lando. fast forward however long this goes on for until finally oscar posts something on like his private insta or something with the new trousers and lando is like 😱 LOOK AT YOU and they have a whole DM conversation about it where lando is just being super super dramatic and pretending this is the most amazing picture he’s ever seen and borderline thirsting and oscar is like 😳 but obviously playing it cool over the phone (and in general). and eventually the conversation turns into something else but while they’re both still online oscar posts the plane pic, and he doesn’t say anything to anyone about it but lando’s like you did that just for me didn’t you 😈 and comments IMMEDIATELY. and back in the dms oscar replies to the comment like “you happy?” and lando just sends back “very”

pre-established relationship/boyfriend coded: pre-established secret boyfriends where lando is the world’s most prolific hoodie stealer. actually it doesn’t even have to be limited to hoodies it’s also shirts (the bigger the shirt the better) and probably like blankets and hats too. anything that makes him feel small. at one point lando’s like “i’m cold :( why don’t you have anything cozy” and oscar’s like “you can wear your own clothes then” and it comes out a little harsher than he means it to and he can see in lando’s eyes he didn’t take it the right way, because lando’s reactive and he overanalyzes things and he takes everything straight to the heart, so even though oscar apologizes and emphasizes he’s not mad or frustrated he still feels kind of bad about it. so he gets just a few new clothes because he doesn’t want to seem like he’s overcompensating but now he like finally owns something with a warm lining on the inside at least, and he doesn’t tell lando at first just posts the picture. but lando sees and he notices instantly and he knows that he’s supposed to be as nondescript and inconspicuous as possible and that their social media profiles are still vulnerable and they have to sleep with one eye open to keep their relationship hidden but he just can’t help himself. he convinces himself like “it’s just text people can’t hear my tone of voice, they’ll just imagine however they want to imagine it” and for the most part that’s true and it takes him so little time to work out “happy softboi bf impulse” vs “being rational and calculating risks” that he drops the comment that same minute

same plane: lando takes the picture. as oscar’s taking back his phone and setting up the post he says “what should the caption be” and lando’s original answer is a variation of his actual comment, “damnnnn been out buying new clothes$” or smth. and oscar just unexpectedly cracks up like “what?? i can’t put that on my own post it sounds like i’m checking myself out” and they have the silliest play-argument about it like “that’s a perfectly normal caption” “what are you TALKING about there’s something wrong with you” “I can’t believe you won’t use my caption that’s so rude” and getting the giggles about it and finally oscar just posts it. and lando pretends to be checking his own phone or sending a text with the most serious face he can muster but then oscar gets a notification immediately and he checks it and that’s lando’s comment. and they laugh too hard about it and oscar is like “you’re ridiculous i’m sharing that” and lando’s like “yeah go ahead it’s a great comment 😂” and it’s only *after* oscar’s shared the post and the comment on his story that lando is like oh shit. that looks really fucking flirtatious and he gets really flustered and he’s like i hope osc doesn’t take it that way but he gets the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling anyway and he’s laughing a little too long and oscar’s like “mate come on it’s not that much” and lando’s like “yeah yeah no sorry ☺️ nothing much”

anyway haven’t posted any hcs on this account yet but i have so many and i write them so much faster than my actual fics so we’ll see how this goes

#landoscar #lando norris #oscar piastri #mctwinks #mclaren #mclaren f1 #formula 1 #f1 #f1 rpf #headcanon #in over my head(canon)#fanfiction #papaya boys #op81 #ln4

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domiforpresident · 1 year

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Model girlfriend Riri hc's

Paring: model!RiriWilliams x fem!blackPhotographer

This is just something i put together while working on the Riri fic I'm currently writing

Color coding: interviewers/press, Riri, you, Riris mom

A/N: Riri is extremely fine so why wouldn't she be a model......exactly! 👩🏽‍💻

The start of her career:

Riri was walking the streets of Chicago. Some woman came up to her with their business car. The lady told her to come by for a photo shoot if she's up for it. Riri had her doubts but still went because why not?

When her pictures hit the internet she gained alot of popularity overnight. Even though she could model as a full time career if she wanted to, She doesn't plan on doing so.

She still goes to college at M.I.T when she isn't modeling because she wants to get an education. (Not that she would need it much) She has hopes of pursuing stem when she's finished with college.

Alot of people on her management team call her beauty and brains. She thinks it's silly but doesn't mind the ego bost.

Riri plays around with her masculine and feminine side when it come to clothing. It started to get a few blogs talking. Soon everyone was dieing to know her sexuality.

"So Riri I'm guessing you've seen the blogs and everyone is dieing to know, what kind of people are you Interested in?

"The kind of people that love me back"

She hates when people pry at her personal life. So she never really gives clear cut answers to these type of questions. Everyone in her circle knew she was a ragging lesbian and that's all that mattered to her.

You and Riri’s relationship:

You and Riri met at one of her photo shoots around the time she started to gain alot of popularity. You were her photographer. When she saw you she couldn't help but to do a double take. You were breath taking and She wouldn't stop flirting with you. The more you called her unprofessional the harder she flirted. Eventually you gave in and agreed to go out on a date with Riri.

After a while of dating you and Riri Made it official. You two decide as a couple to keep the relationship private. Regardless people still talked because you were seen with Riri practically all the time.

One night you and Riri were out on a date at a restaurant. As it came to an end you walked out and cameras flashed in your face. You knew what the press was like. You had yet to experience it first hand though. Riri being a good girlfriend put her jacket over your face and held you close. The men holding the camera's then began to question her.

"Riri is this the lucky woman you're dating?"

"How does it feel being a black queer model In an industry domina-"

"All I know is y'all better get these cameras out of my girls face." Riri said bluntly, quickly becoming irritated by the questions.

It was hard for you to adjust to the press at first. After a while it became second nature. You knew how to duck and dodge them. If you couldn't do that you would never give them direct answers to the questions they asked.

You go the run way shows and photo shoots of Riris that you can make it to. You Always blow her a kiss when she comes out on stage.

Sometimes you aren't able to make it when she does runway shows. She'll still call you right before she walks on stage. She says you're her good luck charm.

"Baby I'm a little neverous you sure you're not gona be able to make it?"

"If I could I would my love, and you're literally a pro at this Riri. You're definitely gonna kill it like you always do so just take a deep breath and count down from 10 in your head."

"Thank you baby, and remember the live stream of the show starts in 3 minutes"

"I'll be watching my love I promise"

She loves taking you on vacations whenever she can. You're not used to getting spoiled but Riri constantly let's you know that you deserve it and so much more.

Upon meeting her family they all loved you immediately especially her mom.

"You're so beautiful Y/n, Riri better be telling you that everyday"

"i promise you She does" you said while softly smiling at both Riri and her mom.

"Oh and here come look at these" Riris mom went to go grab Riris baby pictures. "I've been waiting for her to bring someone home so I could wip these out"

"Ma is that really necessary?" Riri said to her mom. "I don't even think y/n wants to see these"

"Don’t speak for me girl, and move over you're blocking my view." You switched places with Riri on her mothers couch. "aww look at baby Ri."

You and Riri take long and relaxing baths together after you'd both had a stressful day at work. Sometimes Riri says she's too tired and just wants to shower and go to bed. You always manage to convince her into it though.

You can't stand it when women or men flirt with Riri while she's doing interviews. She always makes it very clear she has a lovely wife at home. Sometimes the flirting still gets to you. But Riri quickly reminds you that you're the only person she wants in one way or another 🤭.

Even though you're the photographer Riri takes more pictures of you than she's does of herself.

*Riri taking a picture of you for the 2000th time that day*

"Ri are you taking another picture of me?"

"Yes. Your face is too beautiful to always be behind the camera" Riri said while snapping another picture of you.

She takes pictures of you while doing the simplest things like eating.

At events and red carpets she always has you on her arm. People constantly scream that the two of you would be a model power couple if you ever decided to get into the industry. You're more low key though and photography is your passion.

#riri x black!reader #riri williams #riri x y/n #riri is my wife #lesbian #mcu riri williams #ironheart #lgbtq #black sapphic #riri williams x reader #mcu fanfiction #iron heart x reader #riri black panther

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depressedhouseplant · 6 months

Text

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 86 🔞

Prompt: Can be found here - Felix x Fem!Reader

Tags: Narrator is female, referenced relationship violence, cheating (the narrator is still with her boyfriend), referenced dubious consent however enthusiastic consent with Felix, fingering, semi-public sex act

A/N: This one is a little heavy emotionally so I won’t be offended if you skip it. Blame the eclipse (says the one with 0 Aries placements)

“Sorry I’m late,” I sat across from Felix at our usual table in the library. He noticed the marks on my wrists in spite of the multiple bracelets and watch I had on to cover them.

”Are we gonna talk about that?” He nodded toward my wrists.

”I’d rather not,” I replied, trying not to rub the already bruised and irritated skin.

”Did he hurt you?” The edge in Felix’s voice was unmistakable.

”I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I tried not to snap at him and failed.

”Well I do and I’m your best friend so Best Friend Code takes precedence,” he said.

“Best Friend Code?” I snorted.

”Yes, now tell me what happened,” he said, softer this time. “Please.”

”Fine, but can we do it somewhere a little more private?” I asked.

”If that’s what it takes,” Felix agreed. He slung on his backpack and then picked up mine, too. I followed him to the elevator and up to the fifth floor.

”No one comes up here,” he told me. “Discovered that when I was doing my work study assignment last semester.”

He led me to the back wall and sat down, our backpacks in front of him. I sat next to him and took off the jewelry covering the marks.

“What happened?” He asked, carefully taking my hand to examine the damaged skin.

”Bondage. Guess he was too cheap to get the fuzzy handcuffs,” I said.

”Did you agree to it?” I felt like he was staring into my soul when he looked at me. Of course he knew I was drunk. He knew everything. I never told him the worst parts, but he filled in the blanks pretty well on his own.

”As much as I could,” that seemed like a good enough answer.

”So that’s a no,” he said. I dropped my head between my knees and tried to not cry. I felt his hand in my hair, gently petting it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

”I don’t know what to do. I want to leave him, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. That and I’d lose 90% of my friend group because they’re all dating his frat brothers,” I sniffed.

”I’m here. I’ve made new friends and I’m sure they’d be happy to have you. They’re kind of annoyed because I talk about you all the time, but they’ve never met you,” Felix told me. I looked up and wiped my eyes.

”You talk about me?” I asked.

”All the time. It’s also possible they think you don’t actually exist,” he smiled at me. “Don’t forget I’m fully capable of beating the shit out of someone if I want to. So he can try, but he’ll lose.”

”If I did break up with him, what would you do?” I ventured.

“This,” he put his hand on my cheek and kissed me. It was everything my boyfriend’s kisses weren’t - soft, gentle, needy without being aggressive. I kissed him back and before I knew what was happening, I was laid out on the floor with him on top of me, making out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

”I swear if we weren’t in public right now…” he began when he pulled back. His pupils were blown out with desire, his brown eyes nearly black as he looked down at me.

”What?” I asked, feeling a distinct wetness in my panties.

”I’d make love to you and show you how a boyfriend is supposed to treat his girlfriend,” he answered.

“I want you to,” I put my hand on his cheek. “I want you.”

”Can I touch you?” He asked.

”Of course,” I nodded. He grazed his hand under my shirt and over my stomach.

”I was thinking of somewhere a little more intimate,” he grinned.

”Weren’t you the one who just pointed out we’re in public?” I teased.

”Yes, but I think I can make you come without taking your pants off,” he replied.

”Oh really?” I raised an eyebrow. He rolled off me then sat up, patting his chest.

“Your back to my front and spread your legs,” he instructed. I sat up and did as he instructed. He wrapped one arm around my waist and slid his other hand down my torso, under my sweatpants, and into my panties. I felt safe like this even though we were in public. I felt safe in his hold.

”Damn, you’re wet,” he observed as his fingers started to explore my pussy.

”All for you,” I replied, leaning back to kiss him again. He teased my clit before sliding two long fingers into me. I couldn’t remember ever being this wet. My panties were containing it. For the moment.

”You’re welcome,” he breathed against my mouth as he massaged my walls, taking time to focus on the most sensitive spots. I squirmed in his grip and bit my lip to stay quiet.

“I can’t wait to be able to hear you,” he grazed his thumb over my clit, causing my hips to buck on their own. “You liked that?”

”Yes,” I whined.

”Good,” he smiled against my lips as I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck. I’d only ever fingered myself and I definitely didn’t do it this good. I felt my pussy start to flutter around his fingers.

”Please,” I whimpered.

”No need to ask, darling,” he said, pressing down on my clit and sending me over the edge. Fuck, this was probably the best orgasm I’d ever had. He didn’t stop until he was sure I was finished.

”Can I ask you something?” I said when I caught my breath.

”Anything,” he replied.

”Come with me to dump that asshole,” I requested, nuzzling into his cheek.

”Absolutely,” he agreed.

#just fucking write 2k24 #minors dni #stray kids fanfic #felix x y/n #stray kids smut #felix x reader #read the tags

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ms-unfortunate24 · 2 years

Text

Is that all you got? (Keegan P. Russ X Reader) Pt. 1?

Prompt: Keegan isn’t very talkative nor is he known, he’s a ghost literally.. He has his eyes on someone specific that he’s sure doesn’t notice him but what if they do? (The reader is Kick’s partner)

Warnings: Slight Angst and cursing

Reader Inserts: Y/N= Your name, Y/L= Your last name, Y/CN= your code name, Y/H= your hair, Y/HC= your hair color, E/C= Eye color, H/S= Hair Style, N/N= Nickname.

A/N: So I'm just bored messing around, if anyone actually likes this please send in requests, and if you wanna be mutuals just add me and ask, I wanted to give the reader like a lot of options but by the time I was writing that all down I couldn’t remember anything else💀 BTW first fic everrrr

08:45, THE OFFICE

You were sitting in Elias’s office, he was going on a rant about the last mission he had and how things could've gone south. Kick looked at you rolling his eyes as you giggled, “Right I'm so boring, Y/CN do you know why you were called in here?” Elias then asked with a bit of annoyance in his tone. “No, I do not know why maybe because of the privates?” you then questioned with a little sarcasm just to get his blood boiling a bit. “I called you and Kick in because I'm separating you two” your expression stayed at a frown as you furrowed your eyebrows, turning to your current Partner you then realized he had nearly the same expression. “What's this all about?” he questioned, you can feel a worry start to build up in Kick’s body and you couldn't help but wonder how this would affect you. “Look, I feel like maybe separating you two can build stronger relationships with others.” Elias sighed out before he continued, “So.” he began as he tossed you a file, “Keegan P. Russ?” you questioned, “Open it” and you did, while opening the file a small gasp escaped from your lips, “but why him?” You looked up he shook his head, “Dismissed Y/CN” he looked over to Kick and tossed him the file. When you shut the door behind yourself, file still in hands you heard Kick interrupt your clouded thoughts with a loud “NOOOOOOOO”.

22:02, THE MEETING

Cleaning your gun and refilling your utility belt you felt a presence. Of course, you didn’t hear it come in but you noticed it about 2 minutes ago, “How long have you been here?” You questioned with a dark tone, back still facing the unknown intruder. There was silence, after 5 long seconds, you turned around to see dead silver-like blue eyes that almost put you in a trance first gaze. Still keeping stature you asked again but firmly this time, “How long have you been here, SGT. Russ?” this time you had caught his attention as his tall frame loomed towards you. “How long do you think?” his monotone voice echoed, his words being laced with slight venom which was supposed to intimidate you. Hearing footsteps outside marching in sync and random voices all around the empty room with just you two, you decided to back up just a bit so things didn’t look wrong. “2 minutes” you then mumbled to him before the doors were busted open. The walker brothers Logan and Hesh were also following behind Merrick. You knew the Walker brothers well so a small playful smirk rose on your lips when they noticed you in the room. “Keegan and Y/CN? A little suspicious if you ask me” Hesh teased, “Naughty” Logan then tagged on, the two brothers laughed as you rolled your eyes. "Aha, really funny Tweedledum and Tweedledee" you sneered at the two, you turned to your side to realize your silent newly assigned partner had disappeared. A shocked look in your eyes showed as you realized he was in the farthest corner from you. Logan walked up to you taking the dirty cleaning rag out of your hand, "He does that a lot, be careful" He winked.

NEXT DAY, 06:30 AM

It was early, not too early to spar with Hesh as Logan kept score. A loud grunt was let out of Hesh's mouth, "That's all you got? I can go all day Hesh" You grinned trying to assert dominance with Hesh, in reality, you were getting tired out yourself. He tried to pounce on you as you jumped back, trying to land on your feet gave him enough time to throw himself back at you again. Barely dodging his reckless attack you were both interrupted by a certain tall man, you were distracted by his chest, a black tank top covering it, and the tactical pants that he was wearing... Of course, he had his mask on still, you were so distracted that you barely noticed that you were pinned to the ground, "Ha! tap out Y/CN!" Hesh cheered, snapping back into reality "Fuck that hurts" You squirmed under Hesh, tapping the floor three times with your dominant hand. Hesh helped you back up as you guys headed toward Logan. "Y/CN 5 and Hesh 3" Logan read out the score as Hesh complained saying that Logan was picking favorites, you were too distracted by Keegan, he was putting the hand wraps on as he looked in need of a good spar, you slowly gulped and walked up to him. "Hey. Wanna spar?" you didn't want to ask that, it was the last thing you wanted to do... You had no idea what he was capable of and here you are asking if he wanted to spar with you- "Let's go then" His low voice sent shivers down your spine, and playing it off you hurried to the sparring ring. Hesh counted you two off, the second he hit one you hopped backward to distance yourself a bit from Keegan. The way he moved was quick and silent, you wouldn't expect it from a guy who's 6'1 but there he is looming over you again, you backed up into a wall as he struck his fist next to you, "You seem distracted Y/CN," He commented grabbing you by the shoulders and tossing you back into the ring, "shit" is all you could muster up as you got up and grounded yourself. "Hey, Keegan be a little more gentle with them!" Logan said more concerned about this whole sparring offer you gave Keegan. "I got it.." you mumbled charging at Keegan, charging a kick to his core he backed up from the impact. Now groaning and pissed Keegan's moves have gotten quicker. He still hasn't directly struck you but instead picked you up and forced you into the ground, wrapping his hands around your wrists and putting his weight on your hips. His bleak void-like eyes put you in a trance, your body started to heat up, your heart was racing, and you couldn't help but squirm under him in a pathetic attempt to get out of his grasp. His hands tightened their grip and he moved his head closer to yours, the void pulling you in deeper. Your lips slightly departed, and finally, words slipped out, not your words, his. "Get your head in the fucking game if you want to even be seen near me.” That was all you could think about while in your office at the base, a silent knock slightly startled you because you couldn’t hear any footsteps. “Come in,” you said brushing that feeling off and skimming through an email you were supposed to respond to a few days before. A familiar man appeared at the doorstep and a smile crept up on your face, “Kick? I thought you were out on a mission?” the masked man took his baseball cap off as he sighed. “Well Y/N, we finished a lot earlier than predicted, I mean I had this whole plan and this new program I developed on this chip, and- well let's just say my new partners are a little too quick for me” a bit of sadness filled his voice, “Partners? As in Scarecrow stuck you with two people?” you questioned looking at the man through his visors, “Yeah the two walker meatheads” he sighed, throwing himself onto a chair in front of your desk and taking his visors off. You couldn't help but to have giggled at the realization that you're not the only one struggling with the new adjustment. He chuckled out of reaction and then stopped, “So how's Sgt. Russ?” “He’s quiet just like the tales. He's also a dick” you said rolling your eyes as Kick bursted out laughing at the remark. “You got a lotta of work Y/CN”

#keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #hesh walker #logan walker #reader insert #CODKick #CallofdutyghostsKick

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simorys · 11 months

Note

Hey love ur art! Btw I noticed you talk a lot about Simon and Jack’s queerness, but you never rlly talk about Ralph’s, and I personally think he’s the most queer coded one in the book. Got any thoughts to share on him? Idk if ur rly a believer in the whole “Ralph and Jack/Simon were in love and engaged actually” theory so it can be pre-canon stuff I like ur hcs on those it has so much room for imagination (oc-ification)

Hi!!! TYSM!!

I definitely think that Ralph is queer coded, especially with him and Jack's relationship in the beginning. I think that Ralph did like Jack a lot and never truly got over him no matter how much he wished he did. I believe that he lays awake at night a lot thinking about what he did wrong/what he could've done to not have Jack hate him. I don't think he knows exactly what he did to Jack though, but he still blames himself a lot. However for Simon, I don't think he liked him back or really cared too much for him at all, until he died :(

i think that Jack also liked Ralph back but because of envy, jealousy, power hungriness, and internalized homophobia (and some others things probably), he started to despise Ralph. I believe that Jack still loved Ralph in the end, but unfortunately wasn't able to accept that part of himself. I do think that Jack felt guilty about what he did though but tried so hard to convince himself that he was not in the wrong. Maybe eventually he'll come around to it and accept it, who knows.

For some Pre-Island things about Ralph :^)

He never really knew exactly what homosexuality was and thought that his feeling towards boys was what everyone else felt. He did eventually learn that what he was feeling was different than some of his other peers when he brought his feeling up to a friend. I think Ralph goes to a public school, rather than a private Christian school like Jack and the choir, so luckily for him his friend didn't completely connect that Ralph was gay because it wasn't something thing that was taught at their school.

I hc that Ralph has a little sister (as seen in the hc art) who really looks up to him. I think she secretly knows about him being gay, but since she cares a lot for him, she hasn't told anyone (including Ralph).

I don't think Ralph is very homophobic, I think he's able to accept himself somewhat and knows that he isn't able to change his attraction. However, I think he does pray/wish a lot that he would be "normal".

He's very popular at his school and is very well liked, so not a lot of people would suspect "vice" in him. But he still worries a lot about people finding out and when he found out what he was experiencing was being gay, he became pretty closed off.

I also like to joke sometimes that his dad is gay (or just likes men at least) because of the stereotype of being in the navy. So if it is true I feel like his dad wouldn't bring up hatred towards gay people, making Ralph be a little more accepting of himself, of course with it being illegal, he still had issues with it.

Also another thing for his dad, but I remember learning in history class that during WW2 people in the army would put on drag shows to entertain each other and lighten the mood, so I feel like if Ralph's dad was to find out about Ralph being gay or even wearing make up, he wouldn't be too hard on him for it. Although I do think he would make Ralph cover that part about himself up for his and their family's reputation.

#lord of the flies #lotf #lotf fandom #lord of the flies headcanons #lotf headcanons

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thethistlegirlwrites · 8 months

Text

You Only Live Twice

Emma tries not to look too closely at the deep gash in her forearm as she unwinds the bandage around it.

It’s nothing. She’s had worse.

She’s had worse enough times, as a hunter, to know when it’s getting infected.

It’s not bad enough for blood.

She washes it out, smears on the expired but probably still viable antiseptic cream, wraps a fresh bandage around it, then rifles through the clothes hanging from the exposed pipe that doubles as a sort of makeshift closet for a long-sleeved dress that isn’t one of the ones she’s worn the past three days.

She’s not going to give anyone anything to talk about. She can’t afford to.

She’s only had this club eight months. Any sign of weakness, any misstep, could land her in the same position as its former owner.

So could the hunter who shows up less than half an hour after opening.

He stands out in the crowd, between the silver-laced bullwhip coiled on his hip, the massive knife sheath hanging from his belt, and the vivid crimson scars on his neck. She descends the stairs from the balcony where she’s been keeping an eye on the club business (she usually mingles more, but last night someone brushed against her arm, and she hissed, and despite being able to pass it off as being insulted at the lack of apology given on her own turf, she doesn’t want to make it a habit).

By the time she reaches the main floor, the hunter in question is sitting at the bar. He’s got a glass in front of him, but he’s not actually drinking it. A trick she’s seen him use a hundred times. Makes him a customer, so the owner can’t ask him to actually order something or leave, but he won’t get in trouble for drinking on the job.

“Stoker.”

“Heard you were moving up in the world. The industrial grunge vibe is kind of cutting-edge fashion for an upscale place. Missing that warehouse you used to party in already? Myself, I’d get some steer horns on the wall, a little space in the middle of the floor for some line dancing, and a couple vintage Eastwood western posters on the walls, but that’s just me.”

“I didn’t ask for an interior decoration consultation.”

“You sure? I think “A Fistful of Dollars” would look perfect over that corner table.”

Coven rivalry heating up due to outside agitation. And at least one of the vamps at that table is an instigator. She has to admit, she wasn’t a fan of his classic western team bonding movie nights, but it did offer them a whole coded language to use in the field.

Apparently, he still thinks they’re some sort of team.

But she’s on a coven borderline, and if someone ties the vamps stirring up trouble to her bar, she’ll have a lot more to worry about than a wound that won’t heal and being seen talking to a hunter.

“I never was much of a fan of that movie. Out of town gunslingers shouldn’t be poking their noses in a town’s affairs.”

She’ll take care of the problem. Which she’s pretty sure Stoker knew would happen. He’s not appealing to a sense of justice the human Emma used to have. He’s appealing to her new nature’s self preservation instincts.

He’s always been smarter than he looks.

She moves to get up, but he catches her wrist, just below the bandage on her arm.

She bares her teeth.

“I’d like to see the upstairs too. Might have some pointers for that.”

There’s plenty up there for a hunter to object to. Private soundproofed rooms for parties. Emma’s put her foot down hard on any hosting happening here, and all her employees are people she trusts to do the same, but the simple fact that she left those rooms in this building could be cause for a conscientious hunter to run her in to the agency.

“I can ask, or I can come back with justifiable cause. We’ve raided this place back when it was Corbin’s. He had host parties going on on the balcony level. Looks to me like you’ve still got doors closed up there.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“I think you do.”

He’s not looking at the doors.

He’s looking at her cheek.

Damn that tic. She chews the inside of her cheek when she’s in pain, and it makes a dimple-like divot. He’d learned a long time ago to recognize that for what it was, around the same time he benched her for a busted ankle she was insisting was a sprain.

Apparently, some of her human habits carried over into this version.

“Fine. I’ll let you put your mind at ease so my customers don’t need to be subjected to a raid team over nothing.” She makes him go first up the stairs. No matter how much they used to trust each other, no one with a stake is getting behind her in her blind spot.

“I’m going to need to inspect each of these rooms for any residual blood,” John says, pulling a spectrum light from his pocket. Emma steps back from the glow. UV is unpleasant to be around at the best of times. It’s making her genuinely nauseous right now.

Checking the smaller rooms, which she’s now using mostly as storage space, takes very little time. But the big room, the one she still actually does rent out to vamps who want a little more exclusivity than mingling on the first floor, is going to take a little longer.

John steps inside, then motions to her to join him and close the door.

She does, and the thumping bass from downstairs dies off. It’s nothing more than a heartbeat in here, a faint echo of the one she can hear from her former partner’s chest.

“Show me.”

“I don’t answer to you anymore.”

“I know that.”

She shakes her head but rolls up her sleeve. The bandage is starting to turn brown and yellow.

“Some scumbag objected to being thrown out for harassing my bartender. I’ve had worse.”

“You’ve had worse as a human. Have you been hurt as a vampire before?”

“How do you think I got this place? That Corbin just walked away?”

“Heard about a raid on a blood bank two days before you took over. Whoever pulled it off got away clean. Took only one bag of the most common types, left anything rare and the universal donor.” He frowns. “Almost like they were minimizing the damage they did. Even left just enough evidence to point out the flaw in security where they got in, but not enough to be IDed.”

“I’ve heard you talk confessions out of people too many times, Stoker.”

“Not my point. My point is, you had blood. That’s why you healed. Your body isn’t going to put itself back together on its own anymore. You’re a dead woman walking, Em.” He looks at her arm. “Dead bodies don’t have an immune system. They decay.”

“So what is this? Tricking me into doing something you can run me in for? If you can prove I’m drinking human blood, it’s at best six months in your holding cells detoxing. No way I keep the club if I’m away from it that long.”

“No way you keep it if you go into a coma while some bacteria eats away at your corpse either.”

He’s got a point, as much as she hates it.

“I told you. I don’t drink human blood anymore.”

“And I don’t smoke anymore. But if an undercover calls for it, I’m gonna light up a cigarette.”

“That’s different.”

“Maintaining a cover keeps me alive. Drinking a little genuine blood is going to do the same for you. If you don’t, I guarantee you, within a day or two you won’t be able to get out of your coffin. Infections spread a lot faster in a body that can’t fight them.”

She’d seen the burgundy streaks running up and down her arm away from the wound, as much as she’d tried to ignore them.

“Thanks for the advice. You’ve given it. Now get the hell out of my club.”

“You’re stubborn enough not to take it.” Stoker reaches for his knife. She tenses, until he shrugs the shoulder of his leather jacket down his other arm and then makes a neat slice along the inside of his forearm.

Blood wells up, bright, tangy, tempting. Overpowering.

“Well, you better do something, or this is going to get all over the floor and my spectrum light is gonna turn it into a Christmas tree.”

“Blackmailer.”

“Mule-headed idiot.”

She missed that insult.

She dives forward and catches the first falling drop of blood in her palm a fraction of a second before it hits the ground.

She keeps her hands cupped below his arm as she cleans up the overflow of blood, but in moments it’s a manageable trickle. She can feel her arm putting itself back together, an agonizing ache somewhere between being burned and having glass shards pulled out of her skin one at a time, but she can also feel her body forcing out the infection.

She hadn’t realized how awful she was feeling until she isn’t anymore.

A hand holding a white sterile compress slips between her tongue and his skin, and she almost snarls and bites down on it, but she forces herself back with all her re-acquired strength.

She’s left enough indelible marks on Stoker’s skin.

“That should hold you. You’ll get a delivery tomorrow night. A little congratulations on the new place gift from an old friend. Make sure to chill it well, it’s best served that way.”

When they leave the room together, it looks like the whole club is holding the collective breath most of them no longer actually need to take. And when Stoker opens the door, then turns to yell back, “You got away with it this time, Cole, but someday, we’re going to nail you, mark my word,” before vanishing into the night, there’s a moment’s silence and then a collective cheer.

Emma descends the stairs with her accustomed grace, simply nodding at the congratulations on surviving her first surprise inspection by hunters.

“I have nothing to hide,” she says to those who ask what cleaning service she’s getting in.

It’s true until the next night, five minutes before opening, when an unmarked van parks at the back door and rings the delivery bell.

Carlos has to call Emma back personally to sign for the damn thing. Someone sent it certified delivery.

She waits until the club opens and her staff are busy filling orders and watching the crowd before she opens it in the privacy of her personal office.

Inside is a cold-storage pack, and inside that are two bags of shelf-stabilized blood, stamped with the O- type marker and a string of ID numbers.

SJ 79110806007.

Only John Stoker would have been issued a double-oh-seven ID number by sheer luck of the draw.

Next time he shows up, she’s going to have a poster of “You Only Live Twice” hanging over the end of the bar.

It’ll clash with the aesthetic a little, but the sentiment fits just fine.

(You can read this story and others from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies @writeouswriter

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday7 #suffering in silence #infected wound #lady whump #vampire whump #emma cole #john stoker

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ctimenefic · 2 months

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Veryyy intrigued about the Regency AU, can't imagine the stress Alex is in with four sisters and a brother. Is any of his sisters married?? Does he have money for the dowry?? Will George marry him???

Oh nonny, how well you predict his predicament! Four unmarried younger sisters! A nightmare! So many settlements to provide! So many unsuitable suitors! And Alex left to fend for himself without even a scrap of self-knowledge to get him through.

It would indeed be very convenient if George could marry him, but I've gone for the gender/sexual mores of the period so I can really amp up the yearning. (but intriguingly, the Napoleonic Code had little to say about homosexuality. And even more intriguingly, Monaco was, at points, part of Napoleon's Empire...)

Tiny extra snippet along those lines below

The Craven Stakes brings Alex’s favourite set of miscreants to Newmarket. It’s a race meet for racing folks - the general punters will make it for 2,000 Guineas, but the Stakes are for dedicated sportsmen and gamblers alike.

He’s settled the horses in the course’s stables with Daniel in charge and left to walk the turf. It springs underfoot - the morning dew is thick, but provided there’s no rain overnight, the damp should burn off before racing starts. It’s only at the dip of the first turn that the grass looks worryingly swampy. He’ll have to let Scott know to take an outside line if he can.

“You know, I think you’ve finally got a horse worth painting there, Alexander!” Alex turns, smiling, straight into the arms of Lando Norris for a bracing hug. “How have I not been contacted for a commission, hmm?”

“You’ve already had two winners this season, do you really need to pick my pocket as well?”

Lando scoffs. “Oh, Flo manages the horses. I’ve rededicated myself to art.”

Alex tries very hard not to let his scepticism show on his face. It’s hardly the first time he’s heard the sentiment. A dedicated artist might, if he had to guess, take on a dozen commissions in a season and attend precisely zero balls. Lando Norris would do the opposite.

“Come on, I’ll do it cheaply if you promise not to hang it alongside that dreadful Stubbs I heard Russell had bought you. Where is your shadow, anyway?”

“It’s a lovely Stubbs,” Alex says hotly.

“I heard an early piece, before he figured out,” Lando gestures vaguely with both hands, “the middle part. You know, the horses all look half-starved and like they’ve left their hind quarters behind. But that’s Russell for you. Trust him to tour half of Europe, see all the Old Masters, and come back with something by an Englishman. Is he about?”

“He’s coming up with Mama and the girls.

“I’m surprised he didn’t stay in Europe a little longer, after all that gadding about. I’d have thought he’d find the Napoleonic Code a little kinder than our Bloody one.” At Alex’s blank look, he sighs. “Don’t be thick, Albon. I can’t remember if we’re calling it the Greek sin or the French one - I know they call it the English vice, which is bloody rich - but men like George. Men like Charles.”

Alex can feel cold sweat springing up at the line of his collar, but Lando is still talking. “France is more inclined to let them live as they will, privately enough. I suppose there’s no guarantee of that continuing now they’ve shipped the little emperor off to some distant atoll, but still. I’d’ve been in no mood to rush my return, were I of that persuasion.”

“Keep your voice down,” Alex hisses. Lando gives him a curious look.

“I’m not being offensive, Alex. I’m sure he can’t help it. Besides, it must be dashed pleasant to leave a gentleman in the company of your younger sisters and not have to fear an engagement may result. How the devil are your sisters, in fact?”

“Perfectly indifferent to your attention, as always. But I mean it, Lando, I won’t have you putting George at risk-”

“Oh pish, I’m not about to dob him in. I’m much more concerned by his crimes against artistic merit anyhow.”

#wip ask game #my fic #triple crown

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secretlywritingstories · 2 years

Text

Welcome home! (never leave that long again) | Phan one shot

Summary: Dan comes home from tour and stumbles right into Phil’s arms. He is more touch starved than he’d realised.

Tags: Established relationship, domestic fluff, reunited post US leg of doomed tour, touch-starvation, hugs, kisses, cuddles

Word count: 4k

No warnings.

Written for the @phandomgiftexchange as a gift for @moonanonymous! I hope you like it, Sophia. It’s very soft and fluffy.

Read on AO3 or below

It has officially been a lot of seconds.

Too many seconds really. Dan didn’t try to count them, or he would literally have gone insane. It already felt a little insane to begin with. A world tour on his own. It had been something he’d worked for so long, and it almost hadn’t happened with the pandemic making everything shut down. It had still felt risky to go on tour, but he had needed to do this. He hadn’t been sure that he could watch yet another big project grind to a deafening halt.

And it had been amazing. Exhausting? Without a doubt, but Dan loved the stage. He still had a little theatre kid inside of him that got a rush like none other when he was up there performing in any way. And he was proud of this show. Everything put into it and carefully balanced, despite the gloomy title. He would never actually want anyone to leave feeling like the world would end.

Because for all the darkness in it, the light still existed. You just had to seek it out.

Dan was doing just that now, as the car pulled up in front of the home he shared with his very own personal life.

Phil had offered to come pick him up at the airport. Just for the heck of it, but they agreed that it was stupid to spend money taking a car to the airport, just to have Dan jump into it and drive right back. They would also much rather have their reunion in private.

He’d texted Phil when he’d landed, and sporadically through the drive. They had gotten quite good at that again. They hadn’t needed it for over a decade, only pulling out their phones on the rare occasions that they were separated, or needed to talk to each other covertly. They always came home to each other, cuddled up in the same bed, breathing the same air. Existed together.

Dan still couldn’t quite believe that prior to this tour they hadn’t been apart for more than two and a half weeks since they met back in 2009. Hearing that had made him a bit worried about this distance, if it could somehow hurt them that he went away for such a long time.

It wasn’t a worry that had lingered for very long.

Phil had also been quick to reassure him, fondly rolling his eyes and joking that he was going to have fun, throw a million parties and burn their home down, while Dan was away. The reality had been Phil facetiming him from the bed or sofa or calling while visiting friends and family. He’d never said it, but Dan had still been able to tell that Phil thought that the home had seemed too big without Dan.

Dan grabbed his oversized suitcase out from the boot and struggled with it up the stairs. He wasn’t sure if he was nervous, or if it was just giddy anticipation. He used the code to come in, while wondering if Phil was watching him on the creepy black and white fish eye by the front door.

It was almost felt as when he’d gotten out of that train on Manchester station and felt eyes on him instantly. Phil had spotted him from afar and then they had moved towards each other. Timidly back then.

There was nothing timid about what happened when Phil opened the door for Dan this time around.

Dan just saw him and it was like his body went into autopilot. He dropped the handle of the suitcase and just ploughed right into Phil. No hello. No smiles. No nothing.

Later, Dan would be slightly embarrassed about that. Of how his vision completely narrowed down to just Phil, Phil, Phil and he wanted to exist merged together with him the instant he saw him for real, and not on a screen.

Or maybe he wouldn’t be embarrassed later, because Phil was visibly shaking and latching onto Dan just as hard as he was being latched onto. They were pressing against each other, grip around their shoulders and waists probably hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t matter.

Dan was with Phil.

He was home.

The distance had been hard, sure, but he had also been insanely busy and he already knew that the tour life suited him well. It was something set to do each day, and he felt productive and on track. Time passed quickly, even though he also tried to savour the moments, so they didn’t just fly by. That had arguably been harder without Phil by his side.

And the two of them had been racking up video call records that could rival themselves back in 2009. Snapping photos, wayward thoughts in texts, silly voice notes, even some haunted talking emojis. They had still felt close to each other, and it was not like Dan had been worried this could seriously tear them apart.

Phil had been so excited and supportive of the tour, just like Dan would have been if it had been the other way around. They really had each other’s backs. There wasn’t any doubt about that.

They had each other now too, though they both continued to hold on like they would shatter, if they let go. Dan felt something emotional well up in his chest and he couldn’t get any words out. They were trapped there, hot and almost painful.

He had missed Phil for a whole lot of things. For the easy domestic, for his weird and fantastic brain, for all of their little shared traditions. But he’d also missed him for this. Touch. They touched so much in their day-to-day life, little interactions here and there. A brush of a hand, a quick kiss, a smack in the butt, latching onto the other’s shoulders, bumping their hips together. Not even considering all of their intimate moments or how they shared a bed, cuddled up close most nights.

Phil never let go first of hugs, so Dan knew that he would have to be the one to eventually break it. But it was really the last thing that he wanted. He felt as if his body had gone into shock.

And Dan only just now had realised how touch-starved he’d been these months apart.

He had been around people basically all of the time, but he wasn’t the best at letting anyone get too close to him. He didn’t like it. He only liked it when it was Phil. If it wasn’t Phil, he didn’t want it.

“It probably goes without saying,” Phil said, and he sounded a little choked up too, “but I… hate you.”

It had been a long flight back from LA and it took a moment for Dan’s brain to fully follow along. Phil had said it in such a deadpan voice. It was finally enough for at least some words to make it out of Dan’s mouth.

“I missed you too,” he said and squeezed Phil back a little harder.

The door was ajar behind them, Dan’s suitcase had probably tipped over. They could move to the living room or the bedroom and get comfortable but Dan’s hands would not let go. It felt like they had frozen up and locked in tight and nothing could unlatch them.

They didn’t want to risk losing hold of Phil again.

“Never leave that long again,” Phil said, and Dan felt how he nuzzled against his cheek. He seemed to almost breathe him in, as if he’d forgotten what he smelled like in the months that they had been apart.

Phil didn’t really mean that, because if another opportunity like this came up for Dan, then he’d be the first one to support it. But Dan could understand the ache in Phil’s chest right now. It was mirrored in his own.

“Don’t plan on it,” Dan said, laughter bubbling up between the words.

The rest of his tour was in shorter chunks. The Australia and New Zealand leg would be just over two weeks and the European leg would be about three weeks. Much more manageable time apart. Nowhere other than the US was so damn big.

“I killed the house plants,” Phil said blurting it out like a big secret. “Well, some of them. I think? They didn’t fare well with me going to my parents for a while.”

Dan did care a lot about his plants. It was a fun little hobby. He’d teased Phil about how he’d kill them all and even sent a couple of reminders for him to water them. But he could not be genuinely upset about the foliage’s death. Some of them had looked a little worse for wear even before he left and maybe there could be a project in trying to see if he could save some of them.

“Of course, you did,” Dan said, voice dripping with fondness and he didn’t even try to keep it in check.

He made his hands unclench and slowly stared to let go of Phil. Phil did the same, but they did not stay parted for long. Dan had only just bent down and grabbed the suitcase, kicked the door shut, and then he was leaning right back into Phil’s space.

He smelled nice. He’d dressed nicely too. Dan had been too preoccupied before to notice. Phil could have been wearing a clown suit or he could have been stark naked and it would not have mattered. Dan would happily have collided into him all the same.

“Clingy, huh?” Phil asked, clearly teasing, but he looped his arm around Dan’s waist and he didn’t really seem like he wanted to let go either.

“Shut up,” Dan said without any bite at all.

Phil chuckled, low and delighted and he pulled Dan further down the hallway. Dan kept a loose grip on the suitcase, letting it trail after them as he dragged his feet onwards. He wasn’t sure he’d ever left the hallway, if Phil wasn’t the one guiding him.

He was so fucking ready to just exist in his home space again. To make the hours pass with Phil. They had a bit of time before his family would visit for Christmas. And then Phil’s family would. It would be something to be stressed about in the future. Not today. They were not going to do anything today.

Except kiss and cuddle.

As soon as the thought entered Dan’s brain, he had to do it.

“Come here,” he said, moving his free hand to cup Phil’s face. Phil stopped dragging them along, paused in the middle of the living room.

As soon as he realised what Dan wanted, he let out a soft hum and then there was a soft press of lips against Dan’s own. His eyelids had already fallen shut and he let himself get lost in the feeling of gentle kissing. The weight of the arm around his waist. How he let Phil hold and support his weight.

And then Phil bit his lip.

Not in a sexy way, but in an impulse way. Not hard enough to draw blood, just enough to leave a bit of a sting and randomly surprise Dan. He jumped back a bit, and touched his fingertips to his tingling lip.

“Really? Did you devolve back into the rawr XD biting phase?” Dan said and he tried so hard to keep his tone free from amusement but it was like his whole body was silently laughing. Phil just nipped at him, how he often did when he got a bit too excited or he had too much energy he needed to work out.

He’d never really grown out of that habit and Dan could still see the young man he fell in love with in the man standing in front of him now.

Phil fake snapped out after him, making his teeth clink together and Dan’s hold on his laughter broke. He laughed, full-bellied and bowing forward as it just shook through him. Phil was on him a second later, grabbing onto his arms and shoulders and shaking him as he continued to howl with laughter.

“Dan,” Phil whined and basically plastered himself into Dan’s side as he tried to get the giggles under control. “It’s not that funny,” he said, but he was still chuckling a little himself.

“Oh, but it is,” Dan said, finally having enough hold on the laughter. He could still feel the echoes vibrating through his body. He turned and took Phil’s face in his palms. He needed him to just be still for a moment, and just look at him.

Phil tried to twist his face away, even as his hands found Dan’s hips to hold him close.

“Dan,” Phil complained. “Are you going to creepy stare at me again?”

“No,” Dan said, quick and dry. “I am going to openly and lovingly stare at your stupid mug and make sure nothing changed while I was away.”

Phil rolled his eyes but he stopped trying to turn his face away. Dan had large hands and he covered almost all of Phil’s chin and cheeks when he held him like this. It made his glassed push up just a little. Still, it felt grounding to be able to do that. To really let his eyes fully take in Phil standing in front of him.

The little bit of gunk near the corner of his left eye. The way his hair was a styled nicely but getting a little bit too long. The slight cracks in his bottom lip from the winter cold. The temperature of his face growing hotter under Dan’s touch. The way his glasses were too smudged. All the little things that made him so human.

It made Dan want to reread Shakespeare’s sonnet 130. He could still never grasp why some of his high school classmates had thought it was a diss to the woman described in the sonnet. As if being human and real with all the imperfections and still loved dearly wasn’t the biggest love declaration of all.

“You’ve got that sappy look,” Phil said, one hand moving from Dan’s hip to rest on the side of his neck.

Dan welcomed the warm and steady touch. For the first eighteen years of his life, he’d hated people coming close to his neck. It was sensitive and irked him when anyone even got close, let alone touched it. But not Phil.

Phil was allowed into and onto everything. It was even encouraged. Dan could feel the love and care spreading into his skin through the heat of Phil’s palm.

“Would you slap me if I poorly recited a poem?” Dan said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Phil said without hesitation.

Dan’s smile grew even wider on his face and he gently closed the distance between their faces again.

“Don’t bite,” Dan whispered, just before he locked their lips back together.

It tasted like coming home too. He was happy to know that. That Phil still looked, tasted and felt the same. Time had passed, but it had felt frozen too, so Dan had been a little worried. That he would somehow have missed something in Phil’s life, despite being in constant contact with him.

Phil kissed him back gently, but he did also nip at his lip a second time. This time undoubtedly just to be a little shit. Dan knew how to get his revenge. He let go of his face and instead aimed for his sides, going to tickle him until he surrendered.

Phil shrieked and tried to leap out from the attack but Dan was faster. Phil stared laughing and squirming and they moved through the living room, half clinging to each other while both of them laughed. They fell onto the sofa in half coordination, Phil landing on top of Dan.

This sofa hadn’t yet developed a sofa crease with the imprint of their butts but they were both working heartily at it. Every goddamn piece of furniture in this home would wear their imprint in one way or another. A lot of the stuff they had brought along from the old flat already did. They were sentimental people and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.

Phil tried to move into a more comfortable position but made no move at getting up. He did almost knee Dan in the groin, which Dan used to make a big fuss so Phil would lean in and pepper little kisses across his face.

God, they were gross. In the best way.

And it had been months since they’d seen each other. They were allowed this.

Dan could already feel how he was getting tired, now that he was horizontal.

“You’re better than a weighted blanket,” he hummed, mostly to himself.

Phil let out a snort of indignation. “So, you just want me for my body,” he joked.

“Duh,” Dan said with a chuckle. “Need to get reacquainted with this body and all that it can do.”

He moved his hands up Phil’s sides, and let his hands land on his butt and give it a good squeeze. Despite Dan’s words, his touch was familiar and warm rather than trying to initiate anything. Yes, he’d missed that part of being next to each other very much as well, but they could do that later. He didn’t really want to get naked and sweaty right now.

Food and sex could be on the agenda for tonight.

Dan’s eyes slipped shut and he let out a deep breath, and it felt like he got a deeper exhale done than usual, with Phil’s weight on top of his chest.

Phil’s hands found his hair, ruffling it gently and pulling on some of the little curly loops. He did that sometimes when he woke up first but he didn’t quite want to get out of bed. If his phone could no longer entertain him, he’d turn towards Dan and just play with his hair.

It had happened even more frequently after Dan had embraced the curls.

“Your hair feels different,” Phil mused.

“American water and new shampoo probably,” Dan mumbled and then turned his head slightly away from Phil to yawn.

He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to stay awake and talk to Phil.

Phil let out a hum. “I’ve got a fun idea, but maybe we should film it tomorrow.”

“Texting video?” Dan asked, furrowing his brows.

They’d talked about that one. The first two had done quite well, and it was an easy and fun video to do together. This year had even more conversations than usual with them being apart for longer than ever before.

Not that they would share any everything. There were some exchanges, like Phil’s reaction to the slutty nun costume, that would never see the light of day. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for YouTube. And Dan wasn’t kidding when he said it had awakened something within him. It had made him feel sexy and he’d looked good. Phil had confirmed as much. He’d brought the costume home for him to see it in person at some point.

“No, not a video idea,” Phil said, still gently playing with Dan’s hair.

It was so nice. To just be close again. To have Phil touch him again, so easily and freely. Dan could tell that Phil had missed it too. He’d never say it with words, but his actions spoke volumes. He had thrown himself down over Dan and they were now breathing in sync, touching in almost as many places as possible.

“Tell me,” Dan said.

Familiar words but he hadn’t said them in a while. It was what he always told Phil when he could sense that he had something in his head that he needed to get out. Usually, it was when Phil looked like he needed an outlet, but sometimes it was also like this; when he had said half of something and then waited for Dan to react before continuing.

“We could make a video of you coming home and finding all your house plants dead.”

“All of them are dead?” Dan asked, voice a little too loud.

“Not all of them!” Phil insisted but Dan clearly did need to do a proper inspection.

Check how many of them actually could be saved. They could always buy new ones if it came to it. Dan might have been worried about their future plans for more pets, if he hadn’t seen how they had both been with Norman. Granted, he’d been an easy pet, but they both had understood how to take care of him while Phil clearly still struggled with the plants. An animal was different.

“It’s a good idea, funny,” Dan mumbled and wiggled down a little so he could lie a bit more comfortable. “And the audience would expect a grand reunion. They’ll like a video like that.”

Sometimes, Dan wondered what it was like to exist as people who didn’t have an audience. To never have that pressure hanging over him, but he couldn’t really imagine if he hadn’t gone down this path and ended up here either.

He wasn’t sure where him and Phil would have landed without YouTube and all the opportunities making videos and creating a community had done for them. It surely had made them feel strong enough to be able to withstand anything. It had both been tough and full of love.

Dan was a bit extra soft-hearted about their audience right now, having come back from actually seeing them in person instead of just as usernames on a screen. To be able to give them hugs and hear how he and Phil impacted their lives. To watch so many young, and overwhelmingly queer, people who found safety and pride in themselves because of Dan and Phil just living their authentic lives.

“You’re in sappy world again,” Phil said, poking at Dan’s cheek.

Right into his deep dimple.

“Leave Derek alone,” Dan mumbled, but spoke in a way that jostled Phil’s finger the least.

Dan had needed to hold Phil’s face and look at him, but Phil was different. A light bite, fingers through his hair, pinning him to the sofa, poking at his dimple. This was them settling into their skin again, recalibrating to each other’s presence.

“Never,” Phil said, and leaned up to replace his finger with his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the dimple and then he blew air right onto the skin, making the sound of a balloon running away before having been tied off.

It tickled and Dan flailed a bit under it, nearly knocking the glasses right off Phil.

“I’m never leaving you alone again,” Phil said, and seemed to actually latch onto Dan even harder.

Dan’s hand found the small of Phil’s back and slipped his hand under the shirt. Phil made a sound of annoyance, mumbling something about his hands being cold.

“Slander. I’m always warm,” Dan countered, spreading out his palm just to feel Phil’s skin some more. The dip of his spine, the little dry spot to the left, and touching where he knew there was a little cluster of freckles, even though he couldn’t see it right now.

“Who told you that?” Phil said.

A bait.

One Dan would gladly take.

“You,” he said, lips quirking up in a smile once more. “What an idiot, huh?”

“Your idiot,” Phil said, looking up and catching Dan’s eyes. They were so full of love and warmth and Dan was never going to get tired of looking at this man, of holding him close, of sharing their lives with one another.

“My idiot, and I’m yours too,” Dan agreed.

And then they both laughed and pulled a face at all of the sentimentality. It made it okay, to say something corny and sappy, as long as they could joke about it in the next beath.

Tour had been great. Dan had been thriving, but nothing could never ever beat this.

He got to come home to Phil for the rest of his life and it was without a doubt his favourite part of his existence. They had a lot of seconds ahead of them. Together.

#phandom gift exchange #phandom #Phanfic #phan #my stories

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leam1983 · 5 months

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Oblivion

So. Tomorrow, we're flying back home.

Seven days. A week spent with a small legion at my beck and call, bending to Walt's every whim, acceeding to Sarah's every request. One massive kitchen divided between four dining rooms, serving up everything from Americano-Mexican tentpoles to recomposed would-be Taino dishes, with a buffet where passable is the order of the day. Mornings were bland Continental breakfast affairs, but the evenings shone brightly, capstoned with the best cigars I've had in the last three years and the best damn Cappuccino in a decade.

Seven days realizing that an army is re-making my bed, giving me clean sheets every morning and fresh towels on the dot, showing extreme deference for my walker-using ass. A little cohort of maids paid Cheap Labor wages to smile, respond to everything with Es mi placer, señor, and pushed into treating USD tips in the single digits like they're Godly gifts.

You can bet that Walt was so appalled by this he starting leaving twenties. "These poor girls - cleaning up people's shit and vomit after the douchebags three doors down the hall spend the evening getting plastered on Mojitos - and not an ounce of gratitude!"

People started asking questions. Our passable Spanish led to us forming basic bonds with the staff, and turned our little bungalow in the Adults Only section into the talk of the resort. People with less manners started asking for drinks delivery and had to handle polite rebuffs, where we got the sense that the Room Service people were starting to network with the Pool Bar guys to figure out our schedule of preferred drinks.

Eventually, what had to happen happened. My feet were so swollen I couldn't put on my closed-toes shoes for the evening, as the dress code requests, but the staff didn't bat an eyelash when i wheeled in, looking like someone's favourite Math teacher, with socks and sandals. A Karen whose husband had completely overlooked the dress code was shocked.

"Why does he get to head inside dressed like this, and my husband can't?"

Yamilet, 23, born and raised in Santo Domingo and using the thankless job of the French Cuisine-oriented dining room's maître d' to pay her way through nursing school when she's not in church, gave her a Crest commercial-worthy smile.

Is un especial guest. Disculpe - see his legs. Mira?

For once in my life, I was happy to be singled out as disabled.

What really emerged from this is how gratitude really is crucial, when you're travelling. Everyone I heard who spouted variations on "having paid for the right to do whatever they wanted" received piss-poor service. Everyone who lowered their voice in a corridor, who showed basic deference and treated the staff like human beings received distinctly improved treatment. It wasn't just us - we noticed several other cultural groups in the resort, and I was actually thankful to draw a clear line between the nice Americans - and the douchebags.

In open spaces like the buffet, it's kind of impossible not to eavesdrop. If you're on vacation and you're still griping about your Democrat neighbours when you're halfway across the hemisphere from your point of origin, you're coloring your entire stay. The Trumptards who demanded service came in pissed off, stayed ornery and left irate. Anyone else, from anywhere else in the world, who politely asked, language barriers be damned, got what they asked for.

The Semester-Enders were hard to miss, too. Sixteen kids in total, barely in their twenties, who'd clearly pooled cash to rent swim-up suites together, and who turned the All-Ages section of the pool into a nightmare. There wasn't an inch of it that wasn't their private Football Toss area, and no resort-provided pool float that they just didn't claim for themselves.

It allowed for a sense of liminality to settle in. On one end of the more or less football-field-length of pool, you had pure chaos. On the other, placid waters, where the Adults Only club and our bungalow was located. I recovered the float I'd bought for myself, one of the Spring Breakers giving me a florid-faced and pleading look.

"Come on, bro!"

I gestured towards the back. "You've got seven other floats, over there, plus an inflatable mattress. I bought this one and brought it here. As it's my possession, I'd like to use it."

He chuckled meanly. "Nobody cares, man."

Christopher, 27, from Bàvàro, gave the guy a level look while climbing down from his lifeguard chair. "Everything okay, señores?"

"Me? Oh, everything's swell, Chris. It's the gentleman over there that's operating under weird delusions."

Chris nodded, his facial language obvious. Another one of those, huh? I nodded.

He smiled. No te preocupas, amigo.

The kid's response stuck with me. Nobody cares. Is this why some people work so much, hustle their way to a therapist and then book a week off to someplace where there's palapas, Afro-Cuban covers of Celine Dion classics and drinks that would make a medicated diabetes sufferer scream in abject terror? You put your ass to the grindstone and your only hope of recovery is to find a place, however theoretical, where nobody gives a shit?

Walt, Sarah and I brainstormed. We planned ahead. We rested aplenty, sure, and napped even more than we do back home - but this place energized us. We were free to create, and spent a week being the best versions of ourselves that we could possibly be.

For other people? It's apparently Adult Daycare. You get up at nine past the breakfast buffet's closure, complain that you can't get any service, throw yourself on yesterday evening's pizza, knock back cocktails starting at 11 AM and end up throwing up in the kiddie pool by 5 PM. You throw a fit because the pool boys had the gall to lift your limp ass out of the wading area before you could drown yourself while passed-out in a puddle-sized expanse of water. Because you're in your twenties, your brush with death is all but forgotten by 8 PM, and you head to the lobby's bar to knock back tequila shots with your fellow jabronis. The wee hours see you treating the public hallways like your personal hangout space, exchanging football huddle cries with equally-inebriated kids with no sense of their own mortality.

To all this should be added the resort's sense of liminality. If you forget your optimal route to your room, you'll end up in an entirely different resort. Pools look the same, everything's connected, and everyone feels transitory, obviously. It's the ersatz of a place. It's as impersonal as a hotel, except the staff are all stuck under a pall of fake-ass exoticism they can't shed. The equator line being so close means days are blisteringly hot and painfully short. By 7 PM, the sun's all but gone - and we're in May.

Nobody stays. Nobody leaves an impression. I've regaled Yamilet and Christopher with tales of La Banquise and of Schwartz' smoked meat or the bagel bakeries on St-Viateur - but I'll forget their faces just as they'll forget mine. We spent a week treating one another like culturally Latin brethren - Québécois deference having always meshed well with Cuban and Dominican confidence - but we won't remember one another in short order.

Single-serving friends, as Pahlaniuk once said.

I might as well head to the gift shop, swallow my pride and see if there's a tee-shirt on offer that reads I went to the Carribbean, and all I got for it was a lousy sunburn.

#thoughts #life post #vacationblr

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incarnateirony · 5 months

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You know, I'll be blunt. Since about October of 2022, Nothing Has Been Right For Me when it comes to Normal Living.

The majority of my readers never even noticed. Even when I outright talked about my blackouts at the time, my struggles, or Time Is Fake, I don't know if people really understood as much as acknowledged or maybe empathized.

While that was regular health oriented it was also being exacerbated, and the effect continued even after the nervous reset that came with the paralysis sweep. Other effects and stresses nearly had me remove myself from the gene pool when an ultimate valentines gift for the woman I adore turned into something ugly in my private Dominus area, and caused a blowout. And I can't forget being stunned when 'He' broke out in full to look at One Very Specific Person who later became hugely relevant to my life on winter solstice 2022, after the Samhain incident.

At that point, I felt nothing was safe. I experienced casual terfery and gangbanging for trying to show a woman she's special because everyone else got upset or uncomfortable or wasn't the focus of it, it had to be nitpicked, argued. And I looked outside Dominus, and all there was was haters, and I looked outside the server, and all there was was my abuser stalking me there and abroad and doing what she could to hurt me, and I looked at my body breaking, and my inability to even like, track time normally anymore, and I almost gave up guys, full stop.

My come to Myself As Disco Jesus moment came when those bullets broke in and I realized I still wanted to be here. You know, the day after last year's Thelemic readings ended.

Since then I've had to sort of remaster HOW I interact with the world. Time is fake but that's fine, you guys observe it. I have my own clock that integrates better to track things from my perspective. I actually have a nice little blog toolbar showing it now and have actually been posting about it.

Like there you go, there's the fucking time.

Anyway. A lot of this is just. It was compounded by a cocaine bear the entire time, whether or not I was cognizant of what was happening at the time, but it's also just kind of... part of the process of what I was doing at the time, that has put me in this bizarre ass position.

When I withdrew from fandom and made my series of confessional posts under #retirement confessions and #apollo's curveballs (many of which WILL hit you like curveballs if you check the tag now), like... I was trying to get rid of it all. The server had already been set up to run without me in my dark hour, but I still had to step away from it to be safe and myself, because again, my stalker, for example, has thoroughly infected the space.

And like... I put who I needed to do the work I needed in the places it needed done... I got what I wanted... it was just a waiting game... so I mostly walked out and reduced to coded videos and found a place I thought I could be safe from my abuser in, until she also chased me there to cause issues.

Like, I like keeping my hat on and trying to live a normal dude life. When I'm not letting my liver get eaten by vultures and vampires, I really like it here. I've realized that on a level most people never encounter before they're dying, because I've already had that moment in a hundred manifolds I witnessed, everything all at once.

But um, guys, once you dig to the level I did, and do works to the level I did, and undie like I did after surviving what's literally called the crossing of the abyss, without becoming a Black Brother or Dark Brother depending on the gnostic branch's phrasing. That puts me in a weird position. Ironically my stalker was literally and continues to literally keep evoking the Dark Brother aspect of me that Hermes warns of, and refuses to stop, which is what's caused a lot of my issues. But I've processed that. A few times now thanks to her.

But once you do that like, I don't know how to explain, there's no going back to normal. It's not about Sanity. I can stay perfectly grounded. It's not voices, or uncontrolled disassociation or anything, but quite literally the opposite, and yet. It's like.

Imagine if you became aware of a level where you understand that you sitting here is like, your personal adventure you get one shot at in this life, but you're also in the back holding the controller outside of the game matrix. Which is why I use game skin analogies so much.

Like, I know Who I Am in This Life, but I also know I Am living multiple lives, millions even in the modern. I know how to ping back to ping forward, I know how to find myself in the million voices, because I Am. I know how to make voices consider things internally even if they've never thought of it themeslves. I know how to use the blank spaces and the cracks between now, just like above.

And once you're like, sitting there, and can tab in outside the terrarium and have a talk with your cosmic higher self to have a talk with your other lower selves like. You can't... unperceive that.

But in the end, nobody even noticed until I exploded on my abuser, so I'd like to think I maintained an image of normalcy and muggledom fairly well for being one mask pull away from the mad hatter at all times. You don't just un-realize that you are the universe reborn, a reduced single life sprouted from the void, guided by the guide and the dissonance, himself embodied, one of millions, and those millions among other relived millions, and we're all one, and you can play in the soup. You can't fucking. Unrealize that.

Just like I can't unrealize what being an I Am means now, especially with the eyes I stole to end my suffering and all the passengers on a train built for this. I didn't sign up for this, really. Not like this. I just wanted to be free. Someone won't let me. We just want to be free.

And the worst thing about this perspective is knowing, deep down, this is still me only fighting with myself. That's the universal constant of the I Am. And thus strikes the dissonance of mercy and vengeance and confusion. But if someone insists on attaching to shadows in a modern life, then they will be reduced as one by conceding to an I Am in this life by their own choice. And so on. Sure, I'm fighting myself. So nuit has been claimed, and are one, and here comes hermaphroditus, I guess.

And so the stalker in question refuses to look at even their own surface this-life mortal actions to begin to unpack their own shadows, and call on mine again, and again, and again. If I don't end this this year, I'm probably gonna have to go through this all over again next, and next, and next, and so on, and like, I Am Not Doing This With Them The Rest Of This Life And The Next Ten. Absolutely fuckin not. That honestly goes for Janus while I watch him slowly lose the support of the public for his behavior. Which is very, very, painfully familiar. And reflective. Of both sides of this issue, really.

Like no fr I'm not kidding like I can perceive myself tapping on the fishbowl from outside, and I tap on a lot of aquariums, ok. That's why someone got messed up, they didn't understand the moral but heard the tapping and got confused on the who's who or what a magus path even means. No, sorry, that was literally me haunting me to try to make me become the best me. It's surprisingly often, it's just this particular life happened to be a future powerful magus bitchslapping someone through time so my personal message was louder and sometimes more visual than others. So someone got all fucked up. Hell, I was all fucked up about myself.

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