#the literal only time i’ve been civil when someone was being rude to me was when i worked in customer service and it was hard as fuck

[fingertipsmp3]

I will never understand people who post tiktoks of them being mansplained to in the gym or someplace and they’re just nodding and smiling at the guy or being civil with him.. I’d end up being filmed by some bystander absolutely shrieking my head off as soon as the guy tells me I need to lose 50 pounds or that I’m doing the wrong workout

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Four. "You hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

warnings: swearing but that’s it (i think)! just karl being a goof and dream being a little shit but whats new word count: 3k (not ncluding pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

**********

.

Y/n  sat to Karl's left, out of the camera's view as he scrolled through Twitter on his PC.

"Um... oh, how did you guys meet?" Karl read before looking offscreen at Y/n. "Uh... school?"

"What? I was going to make up a funny story but I'm appalled by the seriousness in your voice! Is that really how you think we met?"

The embarrassment on his face answered her question. "Karl! I'm two years younger than you, how would we meet have met at school?"

"I don't know!" he said back defensively, raising his shoulders. "Clubs?"

"Like I was in any of the nerd clubs you were in."

"Well, then, how did we meet?"

Y/n sighed with a laugh. "Our moms–"

"Oh, wait wait, I remember!" he cut her off, excitedly looking towards Y/n. "Our moms are friends and they forced us to hang out." He smiled proudly and looked back to his screen as he continued scrolling for good questions. "If I'm honest, I only still hang out with you because my mom makes me."

Y/n smacked Karl's arm and he laughed but pretended to be hurt. "WHAT THE HONK, BUGSY?!"

"I can't stand you. I barely hit you, nimrod."

Karl giggled and read another one. "How tall is Bugsy? Two feet, four inches."

"No, I'm 7'6," Y/n lied easily and Karl laughed.

"How tall are you actually?"

'I think 5'10 or something? Maybe 5'11. I'm not 6' but I'm taller than you for sure, I know that much–"

"Okay, you are not taller than me. Just to be clear. Chat, Bugsy is not taller than me."

"Yes, I am. Wanna test it?"

"No," he replied quietly in defeat.

"Because you know I'm right," Y/n laughed as her eyes flicked over to read chat. They were spamming their surprise, expecting her to be short. "Yeah, no, chat, I'm tall. I'm taller than Karl."

"Only because your shoes make you tall! Doc Martens are tall and that's pretty much all you wear!"

"You're shorter than me when I'm barefoot!"

"That's literally false. Like completely."

"Just accept it, shorty."

"I'll accept that you're taller than George and Sapnap, but not me. I'm barely taller than you but I'm still taller."

"Whateverrrr. I'll move on to protect your dignity."

Karl ignored her and laughed, pointing to a message from Dream in Karl's chat.

"Dream said I have short girl energy," Y/n read.

"You kinda do."

"What does that even mean?"

"You're shy around new people and you act all sweet."

"So tall girls can't be shy and sweet? Or shy and sweet girls can't be tall?"

"Stop twisting my words," Karl groaned.

"Also, wait, what do you mean I act sweet? Am I not?"

"No, you are. But I mean you also aren't when you don't want to be. Upset Bugsy is scary Bugsy."

Y/n frowned, not recalling a time she's ever been angry or upset at Karl but she let him move on. He pointed to another tweet as he looked at Y/n, giving her an 'I told you so' look. She read it before shaking her head at him.

"Don't read that one."

"Pleeease, can I answer?"

"No!" she whisper-shouted. I don't want to be shipped with him for asking or you for answering, she mouthed so Karl's chat couldn't put together clues.

"Are you assuming I'll answer positively?" he teased, earning him a hard smack on the arm.

Y/n couldn't help but notice every time she put her hands in the frame, which was usually to hit Karl, half of the chat turned into simps requesting a hand pic because they could see her bracelets and nail polish and now that they knew she was tall they wanted to see how big her hands were. They really wanted every crumb of content they could have regarding her looks. She caught one that said something pretty kinky about her hands which she tried to scrub from her mind immediately.

"Fine," Karl sighed at her request to not read Dream's tweet out loud, instead reading another. "Bestie sleepover? Yes! Bestie sleepover! Bugsy and I are gonna cuddle all night--"

"No, we aren't. I'm sleeping on a completely different bed. Or couch. Nowhere near you."

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?"

"Karl! Stop trying to get me to cuddle with you!" Y/n laughed as she pushed away his arms, which were trying to give her a hug. "You're a freaking heater and I don't like touching people!"

"That's my worst nightmare in a friend, how did I end up with you?"

"No idea. Deal with it. It's still a bestie sleepover even if we don't cuddle."

Karl giggled and looked back at his stream. "Oh, by the way, in case anyone ever wanted to know or was Dreaming about it, Bugsy is very cute. Just thought I'd mention it in case anyone was wondering or if anyone tweeted specifically asking..."

Y/n smacked his arm again as she yelled, "Karl!"

He grabbed his arm in dramatic pain as if it had been cut off. "Ow! Ow! Bugsy hit me!" he cried as he fell to the floor. "Oh my gosh. Someone call a doctor!"

"I cannot stand you," Y/n  informed as she stared down at him. She glanced at chat, who were all joking about how bad his condition was, saying things like they might have to amputate his arm. "Chat, don't encourage him. Oh, Karl I know what we can do!"

"As long as I don't need two arms for it..." his voice still laced with fake pain.

"Karl Jacobs."

"What is it?"

"Give me a tour of Dream's SMP. Dream whitelisted me yesterday."

"Oh, yeah! What could have possibly made you think of him?" he teased as he got back in his chair.

Y/n glared at him and he cowered slightly.

"Minecraft, yes. There's a PC in the other room you can play on. Do you need help setting it up?"

"No, I've streamed once or twice," Y/n teased as she stood up.

"I'm just trying to be a good host! Gosh!"

"Wait, I have to cross over to leave the room."

"Just do it? What's the issue? Literally no problem, just walk?" he joked before zooming in his camera on his face so it took up the whole screen. Y/n laughed as she went across the room, chat now forced to look at disturbingly close footage of Karl staring directly into the camera with his eyes crossed.

Y/n called Karl on Discord after logging in. "Hi, Karl and Karl's stream."

"Are you on yet?"

"I'm logging in to my Minecraft account right now."

"Okay, join a vc on the smp discord so others can talk to us if we run into anyone. I'll be over in a minute, just give me a bit to read some donations." They both muted, leaving Y/n to herself.

She typed in the IP address to the server and joined a random voice channel that no one was in. She spawned and looked around, confused by the cobblestone wall around her. Her phone lit up so she occupied herself with the texts from Naomi.

A green figure caught her eye on the screen and she looked up. In the distance was Dream's infamous green Minecraft skin punching the air as he faced her. He ran towards her and stopped in front of her. She set her phone down and slid it away, crouching as his character did the same.

Dream whispers to you: are you streaming you whisper to Dream: no but Karl is and he's about to get on to tour me Dream whispers to you: hmmm okay here

He uncrouched and dropped a few diamond blocks before punching the air again and running away.

Dream whispers to you: shh don’t tell anyone you whisper to Dream: omg :D ty <3 you whisper to Dream: first twitch donos now mc donos you whisper to Dream: rich man over here giving out money and diamonds to everyone like it's candy Dream whispers to you: no, only to you Dream whispers to you: a little gift before our date ;) Dream whispers to you: oh and this

He came back and paused in front of Y/n before dropping a red poppy and sprinting away again. She acted cool despite the huge smile on her face.

you whisper to Dream: charming you whisper to Dream: you give me a flower and dart away before I can properly thank you Dream whispers to you: oh yeah? how would you have thanked me?

Y/n smiled, her cheeks flaming up as a dirty thought entered her mind. Stop, he's not flirting, she told herself. It’s literally a block game and he’s not flirting.

you whisper to Dream: guess we'll never know ;) KarlJacobs joined the game

"I'm back," Karl's voice filled her headset as he joined her voice channel, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Where are you?"

Y/n looked away from the chat in Minecraft and turned around in the game. "Still at spawn. Some forest and cobblestone walls."

"Go left and I'll meet you halfway."

As she ran, the Minecraft chat reappeared with new messages for everyone to see.

<Dream> hey Karl <KarlJacobs> hello Dream <Dream> thanks for answering my question on your stream <KarlJacobs> just doing my civil duty as a bugsy dream shipper <KarlJacobs> official petition for the name to be dreamsy <Dream> signed

"Oh my gosh," Y/n muttered, making Karl laugh.

"What?" Karl asked innocently, but his laugh was maniacal. "Oh, I found you. This way! I built everything on the server, by the way. So if anything is impressive, just remember that I did it."

"Karl, that's the biggest lie you've ever told me. I watch the lore videos."

"Well, I did build it all so I don't know what to tell you. Let's go this way first."

Y/n followed as he showed her stuff, including background and unknown facts about things that have happened off stream. After the tour, they messed around the chessboard. At some point, she found a blue cornflower and turned to Karl.

"Do you have an anvil?"

"I don't exactly have one on me at the moment but I think there's one over here. What for?"

She killed some chickens with her fist to gain XP so she could carry out the task in mind. "I need to name this flower I found." She followed him a few blocks away and clicked the anvil and named the flower 'love, bug'. "Okay, thanks."

"Why did you name it?"

"It's a gift for someone."

"Me?" he asked as his character jumped up and down.

"No. My presence is your gift."

"Ouch. You know, honestly, I'm really hurt by that. Like, why would you say that to me? It's just sorta rude."

"Fine, I'll go get you a flower."

"Well, I don't want it if it isn't sincere. Who's that one for?"

"...no one."

"Tell me or I'll keep complaining about not getting a gift."

"I can deal with that."

"Okay, then tell me or I'll make you sleep in my bed and I'll smother you to death with my affection."

"Ah, okay, fine. It's for Dream."

"Wow you really hate me that much!" Karl laughed.

"No, I'm just not touchy like you!" she defended. She always worried she offended Karl since he was so physically affectionate towards his friends but she just wasn't a physical person.

"Oh, speaking of Dream..." he turned and Y/n followed his characters line of sight, having to zoom in to see the green figure perched at the top of a tree.

"He's very menacing."

"He does that."

<Bugsy> come here pls dream <Bugsy> i have a gift :]

Dream ran towards Y/n and stopped in front of her expectedly. She looked at Karl then back at Dream and dropped the gift, backing up after and crouching.

His character picked it up and held it, pausing to read the name. After a moment, he slowly looked up at Y/n's character before jumping and spinning in circles. Y/n hid her smile in her sleeve even though no one could see her.

<Dream> wait lemme see the one I gave you <Bugsy> what D: <Dream> I wanna name it

"What is going on?" Karl giggled.

"Gift exchange. Mind your own business."

"Woah!" Karl gasped dramatically. "Uncalled for."

Dream came back and dropped the renamed flower for her. Y/n picked it up and hovered over it to read the name.

'host, dream'

She gasped and started punching his character. He backed up and ran away but joined the call seconds later.

"Wait! Stop hitting me!" Dream yelled into her headset.

Y/n laughed, trying to contain her smile as she continued to hit the green character. "Dream! Are you kidding? I tried being all cute and you hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

"It was a joke! You said something like that to Wilbur on Twitter a while ago, I was just using your humor!" Dream's giggles filled Y/n's headphones and she smiled but quickly dropped it so her voice could sound serious.

"Give it back."

Dream looked at her before letting out a small, "What?"

"Give me back the flower so I can go burn it with the other one."

"Bugsy!"

"What is going on?" Karl asked through a cackle. "Dream, did you hurt Bugsy??"

"Yes, Karl! He hurt my feelings! He gave me a flower and gave it back to name it something mean!"

Dream just laughed so Y/n punched him again.

"Dream! You can't hurt Bugsy!" Karl defended, also punching Dream.

All Y/n could hear was the sound of Dream wheezing, his character running as the two chased him. "Stop! You guys are so– STOP HITTING ME!"

"Fine," Y/n finally said, crouching and facing the ground as she walked into a corner to look like she was pouting. "I'm just not going to go on any Minecraft dates anymore."

"Wait, no," Dream protested in a soft voice, his character stopping to look at her's. "Take that back."

"Heart been broke so many times..."

"You're so stupid."

Karl gasped happily. "You guys have a Minecraft date? Can I help plan it?!"

"We did. In exchange for letting you give me the tour. But I've changed my mind since I've been so betrayed."

"Oh my gosh, you're so..." Dream trailed off but his wide smile could be heard through his voice.

"So what? Finish that sentence, Dream," Y/n dared teasingly.

"So... ANNOYING!"

"DREAM! SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" Karl yelled.

"Okay! I'm sorry! Bug, I'm so sorry. Really. Please let me... let me rename your flower something cute. It'll make you so happy that you'll fall in love with me all over again and–and we can go on our date. Please don't burn our flowers."

"And what if I don't give them to you?"

"I'll just kill you and pick them off your corpse."

"Woooooowwww. Okay, it's like that?"

"Yes, it is like that," he said through a smile. It was so apparent in his voice that he was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

<Ranboo> how is the tour going Bugsy was shot by Dream using DEFINITELY NOT PENIS <Ranboo> ah going well I see

Bugsy screamed in her mic as the death screen appeared. "DREAM!"

"You took too long!" He wheezed as Bugsy respawned.

"I don't know where I am!"

"Hold on, I'll avenge you!" Karl declared before he died too.

"You thought you could kill me with your fists? Karl, you're naked and I'm wearing full Netherite."

"You weren't when I started punching you! You pulled that out of thin air!"

<Ranboo> canon

Y/n smiled at Ranboo's comment. She had never talked to him but she knew he and Tubbo were close friends and he seemed really funny. He had already proved he had a dry sense of humor in the 30 minutes she was on the SMP and she loved that. Y/n made a mental note to befriend him before returning to being drama queen to Dream.

"So, Dream, now that you've made me an enemy–"

"WhAT? We are not enemies, Bug. I'm actually naming a flower something really cute as we speak. Enemies don't do that."

"Maybe I'm not your enemy but you sure are mine."

"Oh come on now," he mumbled lowly, running chills down her spine. What the hell was that?? "What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"You-you murdered me in cold blood. Nothing will make it up."

"So I could get the flower! It was out of love! So I could give you a better present! Does that count for nothing?"

"Hm," she hummed. "We'll see what new name you come up with and then I'll decide."

Karl and Y/n got back to the chessboard and waited for Dream to return with his new flower.

Breaking character and turning towards her best friend, Y/n laughed at Karl. "Sorry for distracting from our BFF shenanigans time."

"This is way more entertaining," Karl assured. "Me and my chat got front row seats to the Dreamsy love saga."

"Shut up," she mumbled as she punched him in-game.

"OW! STOP PUNCHING ME SO MUCH!"

"Okay, okay, I'm back!!" Dream announced and they saw his figure sprinting and jumping towards them. He dropped the flower for Y/n and stepped back, crouching and standing repeatedly.

Y/n picked up the flower and hovered over it to read the name.

"Is it worthy of your forgiveness, Bugsy? Does it pass the vibe check?" Karl asked with a giggle.

Y/n bit her lip as she smiled at her screen.

to the prettiest girl in the world. love, dream <3

It was a joke, obviously. He was just continuing the joke of flirting with her like he does on Twitter just like Sapnap and Karl and George and Quackity do. They all joke about flirting with her and this was another joke.

But it still gave her tummy butterflies.

"Bug?" Dream called softly.

But why would he joke like that when neither of them were streaming? Karl's chat wouldn't see it so there was no one to point in feeding into the joke, unless he meant for Y/n to show Karl? She was overthinking. She needed to play it cool. 

She also needed an enderchest so no one could find it and no one could take it away from her and destroy it but they didn’t need to know she liked it that much.

"Mmm.... it'll do."

**********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

**********

A/N: yeeee hope you guys liked this one! i think this is my favorite so far i just think dream was being too cute and i wanna be best friends with karl so much it hurts. we’re gonna get deeper into the dream relationship soon!! i just needed to indugle in bff karl content real quick!!!

taglist: open (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb​ @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn​ @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot​ @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman

[shotorozu]

your ex is still obsessed with you

characters : togata mirio, kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto

legend : [Y/N = your name] gender neutral reader, reader has an overpowered quirk

fic type : headcanons that are kinda telling stories [fluff, kinda angsty??]

notes : self indulgent because this person that i used to talk to is still obsessed over me— even though he was the one that said we couldn’t be friends anymore, and he still talks shit about me too 🧍 it’s some serious fan behavior, if anyone does this to you— then don’t give into their bullcrap because they probably want a reaction from you.

edit : november 17, 2020 — i edited the mistakes :)

warning : signs of toxicity in relationships, it’s not severe so don’t worry :)

≿————-　❈　————-≾

togata mirio

you’ve been with this ray of sunshine for a while now

and you guys were just vibing per usual, mirio was probably discussing about your last visit with eri

and suddenly, you run into your ex!

mirio can see your facial expression scrunch up in dissatisfaction

so he could kinda connect a few dots, and conclude that it’s your ex

mirio remembers a while back, recalling that your ex cheated on you— leaving you in a sad state.

he hated seeing you that way

and he kinda has a grudge against him

but, mirio being mirio— he decides to play nice

“oh! are you Y/N’s friend?” your ex asks you, almost as if he didn’t diss you a few months back

“ah no, i’m their boyfriend :)” he says that, pulling you near to him with one strong arm— showing off his signature smile.

you don’t look at your ex in the eyes, not wanting to seem interested in him one bit

the two talk for a bit, and your ex cuts to the chase

“did Y/N bribe you into being with them?”

mirio frowns, “of course not! why?”

“oh well.. i find it hard to believe that the person you’re describing about is the Y/N i know.”

you lowkey want to punch him, however— you guys are in public. you want to be civil

but the little insult under your ex’s breath doesn’t go unmissed

“weren’t you the one that cheated on me a while back?? you make it seem like i was the spawn of the devil or something”

it catches him off guard for sure, not expecting you to be speaking back at him.

“don’t you remember Y/N, i couldn’t like you at all because of.. well— everything, and i’m surprised that you—” and that’s when mirio decides it’s time for you guys to leave

“see you next time! or never.” he says as he dashes away from your ex

you guys are back at his place, and he’s apologizing

“Y/N, i’m sorry. i tolerated that guy, and i didn’t even know he was that bad.”

you shake your head, you seemed unfazed so that’s the good part

“let’s just agree to never see him again.”

he nods happily, pulling you next to him

you guys don’t see him again, you ask mirio about this and he goes “i don’t know what you mean, Y/N :)”

kirishima eijirou

you’re walking back to your dorm after getting some ice cream near the heigh alliance

you both are surprised when you run into your ex which was totally not because he was stalking you or anything

he plays it off as a nice guy, acting like good old best friends

kirishima isn’t a himbo though, he knows exactly who this is

this is the same person that ridiculed you for struggling mentally, before you and kiri got together

kiri thinks that it’s super unmanly of him.

kirishima notices the discomfort in your body language, noticing how you shift behind him

like mirio, kirishima plays it off as nice— not wanting to be totally rude

but unlike mirio, he cuts it short so you guys can relax in your dorm

“oh and by any chance— your relationship isn’t depressing right?”

you blink, and kirishima frowns “i’m happy with Y/N,” he has his arm around your waist— a protective gesture

“oh, alright then. one last thing Y/N”

he tries to grab you with both hands, but kirishima moves quickly

“grow the fuck up Y/N, if you believe that this red bimbo actually loves you— then you’re mistaken. no one will-”

kirishima pulls you away— and runs full speed at your dorm entrance

you guys are in his room now, and you’re trying hard to not tear up

“hey Y/N, i want to apologize for that. i shouldn’t have tolerated him.”

“no eijirou- it’s fine. i can tell that you wanted to leave early.”

you hate how your ex literally left you, only for him to swoop back into your life when you’re in a stable relationship

but, kirishima won’t let you be haunted by toxicity.

he smiles at you, moments before he rushes to his closet to throw his favorite shirt onto you

he makes you forget about your ex, disinfecting your hard feelings and memories with sweet kisses

you don’t see your ex again- why? because, because.

todoroki shouto

prior to you guys getting together, he was pining after you

and he’s really heartbroken when he sees your empty expression— as he ridiculed you for something you couldn’t control

he also found out he was cheating on you, and broke the news to him

because you couldn’t be lied to by some idiot

you guys have been together for a while now, and you’ve forgotten about your ex

you guys were out getting some soba, and your grip tightens ever so slightly

which is weird because, you don’t ever grip on him— ever. just because of your quirk.

he follows where you’re looking at- and he sees your ex

he recognises the stupid bastard

your ex is calling for you now, and you actually move behind him— creating some sort of boundary

“this is your new boyfriend, huh?”

“yes.” shouto says abruptedly

unlike kiri and mirio, he does not waste time moving out of the area

because— why would he let you stay in an area you wouldn’t want to be in?

your ex doesn’t leave you alone for some reason. he grabs your arm, and you can feel your adrenaline increase

shouto glares at him, shoving his hand off of you.

“you’re holding his hand, huh?” your ex speaks, his laughter fake. shouto doesn’t reply, and he steps in front of you

“i’m not sure why someone would want a ticking bomb for a significant other— don’t you hate how they can’t always hug you?”

you can’t always give back hugs, and you can’t squeeze shouto like it was the last day on earth like how you wanted to

but, shouto is content with just— being with you. his Y/N

your ex is word vomiting, and shouto cuts him off

“Y/N does hug me, they gives me more than i need— and being with them makes me happier than i’ve been in the longest time.”

shouto then turns to you, lacing his hands against yours— before walking away

you’re in awe, and your ex is shell shocked

you guys enjoy the soba when you get back, and he makes sure to bathe you

scrubbing you clean of that guy’s touch, while having a nice conversation with him.

he showers you with kisses after you’re done, giving you as many kisses as you wish

his touchstarved self popped out

you don’t see him again, and the next time you encounter him

he’s locked in a barrier of ice :)

≿————-　❈　————-≾

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing

don’t steal my work :)

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[arctichotch]

You claim to be objective but you literally will not look at any evidence that doesn’t support Amber. It’d be one thing if you did and still weren’t convinced, but you won’t even give it the time of day. It's all "fake news" to you. Anyone disagrees with you and you tell them to shut up. I get being frustrated with rude anons, but I saw some that weren’t even rude and you just told them to fuck off. You only want to see evidence that supports your conclusion. That's the problem.

lmaoo i was literally on depp’s side at first. i’ve spent enough of my time looking at his “evidence.”

also if someone isn’t rude to me, i’m not going to be rude to them. but also at the same time, i literally say fuck off to anything. it’s more a… statement of disbelief for me if you will lmao

and “fake news” lmao what

i don’t think i’ve ever really told someone to shut up because i’m always willing to have a conversation if someone is being respectful and open. but at the same time if someone’s repeating the same crap to me over and over and over, i’m going to get sick of it and tell them to just leave me alone because i can’t do the back and forth anymore. or if their original statement is an easily proved lie, then yeah they might get a shut up from me. but mostly i just block.

most depp supporters who insult me or say dumb shit about how amber can’t be a victim because of xyz (unrelated to any evidence) are going to be fought with because that’s gross and creates a wider message that applies to all victims. and i’m not just going to sit back when someone has interacted with one of my posts saying shit like that.

any evidence presented towards me in civil discussions with depp supporters was never just disregarded as “fake news.” i have always researched into the specific thing they were talking about and come back, respectfully, to let them know what i think.

i also don’t just off the bat interact with any pro depp accounts unless they’ve stated something underneath one of my obviously pro amber posts. because i know that it’s not worth it and i’ll get pissed and it’s a waste of time.

like where did i even tell any non rude anons to fuck off. because from what i’ve seen most of the anons i get who have supported depp have been rude as fuck. and any who weren’t, i wasn’t rude to?

i was objective to the case a few weeks ago, where i neither supported depp or heard as some knee jerk reaction anymore. i was completely impartial. and i took time to actually look at evidence from this trial, the uk, read up on the smear campaign, audios, pictures etc. and i formed my conclusion.

so no i’m not totally objective anymore. i support amber and have been outspoken for that. but i’m also always willing to consider any concrete evidence presented to me, but there just hasn’t been any. so idk what you want me to do lmao

so… what else to you want from me lmao. i’m literally 18 on tumblr talking constantly about dv and supporting all victims just trying to do something decent with my time. so please just leave me alone to do that

you gotta realise that just because someone doesn’t support depp, and is aware of his manipulation game, that doesn’t make them the devil. or a dumbass. it makes them someone with a different opinion who is willing to speak up on it.

[spencers-dria]

Can you maybe write something where the reader meets spencer in prison and when they get out, they meet up and they have really rough and kinky sex like you can literally go as dirty and kinky as you want

Four Feet Apart

🎉150 follower celebration! Day 6

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral female receiving, anal play, blindfold/sensory play, and handcuff/restraint use, protected penetrative sex, mentions of murder, prison

The beginning is a little angst, little fluff, plenty of smut!

“Alright inmates, listen up! There’s been some budget cuts. For the time being, the old west wing building will be taken by overflow from the women’s prison.”

The guard’s voice was overtaken by wolf whistles and hollers.

“That’s enough! Now you will not share a building with them. You will not see them during meals. However the courtyards do share a fence. If you are caught harassing them in any way, you will be punished accordingly!”

The announcement had caught the attention of just about every inmate, except one. Spencer Reid had bigger problems to worry about than women. He didn’t get them outside of prison, so why should he worry about them on the inside. He needed to worry about how to stay safe, stay alive until his name was cleared. That is, until he met you.

_______________________________________

I sat on the bleachers, popping some bubble gum as I searched for some worthwhile eye candy. The sun was a bit hot so I shrugged my button down off my shoulders, opting to tie it around my waist, leaving me in a white tank. This of course leads to many wondering eyes and a few whistles from the men’s side of the fence. I’m not even sure what i’m looking for, but none of the men giving me the time of day have it. I finally notice a slender man sitting on the men’s bleachers, just a few feet away from the fence on his side. I scoot up , slipping my fingers through the women’s chain-link side. Of course I could never touch any of them, with each side having about four feet between their respective fences. But there were no rules against looking or talking even.

“Hey. Think too hard and you’re gonna mess up that pretty face of yours.”

He looks up a bit startled, but his posture changes once his gaze lands on me. He almost looks shy, which seems in direct contrast to his rugged look. But once I look in his eyes, I see depth and warmth and kindness that belongs far away from this place, and it hurts me for a moment, to think of what will happen to him here.

“I don’t bite. The name is Y/L/N. Got in for killing my ex husband. How about you?”

He blinked, speechless at first.

“Doc- I’m uh, Spencer Reid. They think I killed someone too…”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. Based on the look in his eyes, I want to believe him I really do.

“Did you know that incarceration of women has been growing at twice the rate of men’s incarceration?”

“Now how in the world would you know that?”

He simply shrugged.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just looked like you could use some company is all.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, he really did. But before he got the chance, the women were called back inside.

I give a quick salute. “Nice meetin ya Spencer Reid. See ya when I see ya.”

___________________________________________

The next time I saw him he looked different. Scared, fragile, and a bit bloodied up.

“Hey- what uh- I mean, are you okay?”

He refused to look up or give much of an answer. But he was sitting in the same spot, close enough for us to have another conversation so I have to believe he wanted to talk again.

“I’m guessing you’re relatively new. It happened to me too ya know. Especially when I wouldn’t just go along with everything they asked.”

That drew his attention, and I could see tears in his eyes.

“You can’t let them see they get to you, that you’re scared. I learned that long before I got here though. That’s why I killed him ya know- he hurt me and I couldn’t just take it anymore. Police wouldn’t listen. I just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I shrugged it off. I’m paying my time but I’m safer in here than I ever felt with him.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Now he has my attention. I nod, trying not to seem too excited to be sharing schoolyard secrets with the handsome stranger.

“I uh, was in the FBI. I was framed by a, well you can almost call her an arch nemesis of sorts.” He laughed to himself. It was a warm sort of laugh that filled me with butterflies. “I was just trying to get medicine for my mom. She has Alzheimer’s and schizophrenia. She was getting worse and I-“ his words are quickly cut off by the sounds of sniffles.

“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t mean it to be rude, but I had to know.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people and- you’re not a bad person. I trust you.”

In that moment, our eyes met again, but something new was there. Desire? Lust? Caring? Who knows. But that was the start of something. Of daily meetings, and quiet longing.

Day after day we would sit by our fences, sharing stories of our lives before prison. I learned that he was kind, hard-working, and actually quite funny. Spencer Reid was the best company I’d had in years, and not just within the prison walls.

He also told me about the rough time of it he was having on his own side. I gave him pointers where I could. How to get in with the right people, how to avoid the wrong ones, and how to get himself safe when necessary.

At one point, the politics on his side did endanger his life, and that’s when we came up with the plan together. A plan that would help take down the very man targeting him while getting Spencer somewhere safe for now. This meant I wouldn’t see him while he was in solitary, but we both knew it was necessary.

We never spoke about exactly what it was we wanted but- it was there. We devoured one another with our eyes. Biting and licking lips, drawn out breaths, and lingering gazes. We knew.

I watched him change overtime. His hair and beard grew yes, but so did this darkness in his eyes. The soft, Bambi-eyed boy was seemingly gone, replaced by a man who needed to hurt someone, anyone. And oh was I ready to let him hurt me.

I waited by the fence each day for his return, but it never came. I finally decided to ask around until I heard something that thrilled me but also left a huge gaping hole in me.

“He left.”

I couldn’t be happier for him. Had they cleared his name? From the sound of it, federal agents, friends of his had come to retrieve him. I could only hope that he was safe and happy.

Then one day I received a letter.

Dear Y/N,

I miss you. Just you. You made my time there worthwhile, worth missing. There’s so much more I wanted to say to you, and a letter just won’t do it justice. I have a feeling you’ll be out on parole sooner than you think. Come find me when you can. I’ll be in D.C..

Counting the days,

Spencer

____________________________________________

Parole? I had at least another year before that could even be a consideration. But I started counting too, which didn’t last long. Imagine my surprise when I got out on parole only two weeks after receiving the letter.

Did he- no he couldn’t, could he? Spencer had been gone for months. Clearly he had cleared his name, thank goodness. I knew I needed to see him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t leave the state, but luckily I didn’t need to. With what little I had, I made my way to D.C.. I figured I’d start out at the return address on the envelope, the one I clung to like my life depended on it.

With a bag slung over my shoulder, I raised my hand with the letter to hesitantly knock on the door, completely unsure of what to expect on the other side.

My mouth fell open at the sight before me. Spencer Reid in a cardigan, a tie? I had never seen him outside the prison. He looked so put together. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to tear him apart. I did my best to suppress my lust in hopes of a civil and normal greeting.

I don’t know what I expected. Tears, hugs maybe? We stood there staring at each other for who knows how long before I finally spoke. I’d had a well rehearsed speech in my head. One I’d had two whole weeks to work on since he sent the letter. But that all went out the window the second I saw his face again.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Who was I kidding? We could see it in eachother’s eyes, the same desire from before, but stronger somehow. Maybe because it was quite literally within reach. Months of daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch him, kiss him, get absolutely railed by him.

The man I had met initially was so gentle, timid. I watched him change in that prison. I had initially imagined ruining him, breaking him for my own pleasure. By the time he left I wanted something completely different. I wanted him to do the breaking. I wanted him to use me for his own personal pleasure. And he knew it.

He grabbed my face to pull me in for an all consuming kiss that quite literally took my breath away. I had to pull back, gasping for air before I could get any words out.

“Missed you too.” I smiled.

“Can we take this to my bedroom?” The words came out rushed, as though he might die if he couldn’t have me in that very moment.

I give an enthusiastic nod. A small squeal and uncharacteristic giggle leaves my lips as he scoops me up in his arms, whisking me away to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he pants, frantically removing his clothes. “Can you get undressed and lay down on your stomach for me?”

I follow his orders without question. He leans down by my ear and asks one question. “Safe word?”

“Cherry blossom.”

“Anything off limits?”

I don’t even have to think. “No, I trust you.”

Next thing I know I feel soft silk over my eyes as he ties a blindfold in place. This allows me to focus on the sounds of whatever else he is preparing. I hear a distinctly familiar jingle of metal, which is confirmed as it touches the skin of my wrists. Handcuffs. I wiggle my hips in delight, which earns me a playful spank.

“Like what you see?”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I can almost hear his smirk.

His fingers dig into my hips before pulling them up in the air. I feel cold air hit my core immediately.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Without any warning I feel a finger coated in cool lubricant coating my other opening.

“Try and relax for me, beautiful.” His fingers run through some of my hair, dragging across the skin of my back and I feel my muscles immediately follow his command. I attempt to mentally and physically prepare for whatever could be coming next.

I feel him work in what feels to be a decent sized anal plug. I’ve tried them before but only by myself. I’m already enjoying the added stimulation. My hips jolt when he suddenly brings his head down to lick up through my slit and I can’t help but yell.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm you like that, dirty girl? You’re quite literally dripping for me.”

He says it so calmly, I can hardly wrap my head around how smooth he’s being.

“Yes sir, please!” I beg.

“Please what, hmmm? What do you need?”

“Need you to eat my pussy please sir!”

Damn I sound absolutely pathetic. To think I ever considered myself a feminist. So much for my leg up on domineering men. Here I am willingly let one take me, have me anyway he wants. And that’s just the way I want it too. For Spencer Reid, I would be anything he needed.

“Good girl.” The two words have me writhing in pleasure with the combined sensation of his tongue back on the place I need it most. He sucks and laps at me like I'm his favorite dessert . He reads my body like a book, every movement and moan. He knows just what I need, when to let up, when to push harder. It’s unfair just how talented his mouth is.

And then, I’m coming undone on that beautiful mouth of his. Too bad I can’t see it. But oh it’s all I can imagine as waves of pleasure wreck my body and he’s running his fingers down my back, squeezing my ass as he gets in his final victory licks.

There’s a distinct sound of a condom wrapper, and I appreciate the consideration. I feel him sit on the bed next to me, against the headboard perhaps?

“Come sit on my lap.” His voice is dark and commanding, and my body is already responding with a fresh dose of arousal.

“But I can’t see sir.”

“No excuses. Come sit on my lap or you won’t get to come again.”

Not only can I not see, but my hands are still handcuffed behind my back. Not to mention my knees are weak from my most recent orgasm. This oughta be interesting. I try to scoot on my knees towards where I had heard his voice, only to lose my balance once I bump into his legs. I fall face first into his lap. Not the worst position to be in. I hear a soft, dark chuckle above me.

“Poor pathetic thing, are you already too weak? Can you handle another one?”

I swear, I never knew I was into degradation and humiliation. I don’t even know if I truly am, it's just something about him, about Spencer, that turns me on with everything he does.

“Yes sir, please! Please I can handle it! Let me try!”

I feel his fingers grasp my jaw, pulling my face up till I’m sitting on my knees again. I can feel his breath on my face and I wish I could just lean in and feel his lips on mine. My wish is granted for just a second. I feel his plush lips brush against mine, but they’re gone just as quick.

“Pretty thing. Let me help you, hmm.”

His long fingers wrap around my hips and guide me till I’m sitting in his lap, one leg on either side.

“Do you think you can ride me without your hands for balance?

“Yes sir!” I nod with an embarrassing eagerness.

“Show me, baby.”

I raise up and with his guidance again, lower myself until he’s making sure my other hole is filled as well.

Each bounce against his lap is adding pressure against the plug, combined with the bump of his cock against my cervix. With no sight, I’m so in tune with every sensation, especially the way his fingers feel roaming every inch of my body. He’s pinch my nipples, grabbing my ass, tugging at my hair. I may have been the one begging but he was clearly just as desperate.

When he decided he needs more, Spencer grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me at a completely

ridiculous pace.

“You look so pretty bouncing on my cock. See for yourself, little girl.”

Before I have time to realize what he means, his beautiful fingers are ripping the silk away from my eyes, only to be met with absolutely heavenly eyes. They’re golden, warm, filled with lust but also something kinder. They devour my body like I’m his goddess. I absolutely love watching him enjoy the view. He licks his lips hungrily as he watches my breasts bounce and the way he looks sliding in and out of me.

Spencer pulls me in so he can leave a trail of kisses along my shoulders and neck. I love the way my face feels buried in his soft curls, he smells of lavender shampoo and it’s intoxicating. When he pulls back he’s got a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

In seemingly one move, I’m off his lap, on my back, with my hands pinned over my head.

“But the hand cuffs? How did you-“

Instead of answering he silenced me with an all consuming kiss. We’re biting, sucking, moaning, on one another like animals in heat. I can’t help but feel sorry for his poor neighbors.

He keeps my hands pinned above my head while realigning himself ready to pick back up where he left off. Before I can even register what’s happening he’s pounding into me like it’s his fucking job.

“You feel that? You feel how perfectly I fill you up? So pretty with my cock in you. Fuck- you take it so well!”

Words are gone from my mind. I’m left with moans, tears, and one name. Spencer.

“Spencer!”

He lets go of my arms and they instinctively wrap around his neck as I use my legs around his hips bringing him close.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. I’m here. Be a good little thing and come for me. Come on.”

I’m wrecked, shaking and moaning, unsure if I’ll ever be able to stop. He’s right there with me, filling me up in the best way. The pleasure is intensified by the extra pressure from the plug. I cling to him for dear life as I ride off my high, enjoying the way he looks above me. He’s angelic with the light sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the low lighting, the natural sparkle of his eyes, the way his curls fall in his face, the pretty pink lips softly parted as he pants.

He’s dominant but also so soft and kind with me. It's clear tonight he cared about my pleasure just as much as his own. Maybe I don’t ever have to let him go. Maybe we can just stay here, twisted up in one another, blissfully unaware of all our troubles and the world around us.

I’m embarrassed at how much I whine as he gets off of me and slips away into the bathroom. I don’t know why I was surprised when he returns with a warm washcloth and lotion. He’s cleaning me up, tending to my wrists and any other spots sore from friction, and removing the plug. All the while he’s littering my skin with gentle kisses, all along my back and shoulders, my hips, my chest, my face. I’ve never been so pampered.

“Are you okay?” His voice is sweet and smooth like honey, leaving me tingling in the wake of its sweetness.

“Never better.” I leave kisses across his knuckles and he gives me that look again, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

After some convincing, I get up to use the bathroom, returning to a very sweet looking boy waiting for me under the covers, looking up with puppy dog eyes. I see the man I first met in the courtyard months ago. The one that stole my heart. I slip into the spot next to him, and we tangle back together, skin against skin. It’s so warm, soft, inviting and I think I’ll stay forever.

[moldisgoodforyou]

you didn’t kiss her back

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of nsfw content, brooklyn :/

_____

In hindsight, he should have known. 

He should have known when Brooklyn texted him the group invite for dinner in a separate text thread, not the intern groupchat, but he was too busy with work that day to even question it. Just liked the message as his usual form of RSVP. 

He should have known when Brooklyn was ultra-polite to him at work that day, not adding any of her usual flirty comments or going out of her way to stroll by his desk. Instead, he was too caught up in work assignments and trying to figure out how late he could FaceTime Sophie that night without waking her up.

After the workday, Rafe was walking out to his car when Brooklyn jogged after him to catch up. “Hey, Rafe, wait up!” 

He grimaced but turned around - he’d learnt to just deal with her presence over time. “What?”

“Um, my car’s almost out of gas and I don’t think I’ll make it to the restaurant and be able to make it home. Would you be able to give me a ride?” She asked, almost shyly. 

Rafe calculated the drive time in his head. Eight minutes. “Uh...yeah. That’s fine.” He nodded shortly, then nodded his head in the direction of his car. 

Brooklyn gave him a grateful smile, matching his quick pace to the car. “How was work for you today?” 

“Fine.” Once he got in the car he dropped the act, just turning up the radio so they didn’t have to make more small talk. Just being near her made him feel on edge - the same way he often felt around his father. She reached out to touch his arm and he flinched away, making her giggle. “Someone’s tense.” 

“Can you not?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Touchy.” 

“I’m trying to be civil here.” He remarked. 

“Hm.” She let him sit in silence for a solid half minute, then spoke up again. “I saw Sophia posted some picture of her wearing a Cartier ring on her Instagram. Did you pay for that?” Brooklyn pushed, sounding almost nervous. 

Rafe shrugged. “So what if I did?” 

“You never bought me designer.” She glanced at her nails, trying to appear nonchalant. 

He snorted. “You can buy yourself designer things just fine. We both know that.” 

“Not the same.” She mumbled, then opened her mouth only to let out a sigh. “It’s just - never mind.”

He looked over with an annoyed glance, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “What.” 

“Surely your dad doesn’t approve?” 

Rafe tensed and she resisted a smile, knowing she had struck a nerve. Exactly what she wanted. “Since when have I cared about my dad’s approval?” 

He might have gotten away with that with someone else, but Brooklyn could read him well. Too well. She’d seen him deal with his dad’s disappointment only a few times, - Ward was always on his best behavior whenever she was around, the model of a perfect parent. 

Brooklyn laughed at that, shaking her head. “You’ve always cared about his approval, I find it hard to believe that’s changed in just a few months with some girl.” 

“Eight months.” He corrected, his jaw clenched tight. “And you know her name. Don’t be rude.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Sophia or something. I just don’t get it.” 

“It’s Sophie. Still. And good thing there’s nothing you need to get about my relationship.” His knuckles were nearly white around the steering wheel as he pulled into the small parking lot, then glanced around with a frown. “Where’s the other interns? Shouldn’t they be here by now?” 

“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I just sent the invite to you. You didn’t notice?” 

He hadn’t, of course, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. He parked the car and turned it off, looking over at her with a confused expression. “What?” 

“I didn’t send it in the group message, Rafe, I thought we could go out, um, with just us.” She gave him a small, earnest smile. “Like old times.” 

He grimaced, closing his eyes for a second and taking a breath. “Are you forgetting that you broke up with me?” 

“I mean - Rafe, come on. We worked well together. We could at least be friends.” Her tone took on a pleading edge and she leaned in a little closer, her arm nearly touching his on the center console. 

“You made me feel like shit, Brooklyn.” He told her flatly, frowning. The last thing he wanted to do that day was rehash a conversation with his ex that they’d already had at least three times since breaking up. (The first was more akin to a drunken screaming match that ended in tears for both of them, the second was just bitter insults hurled back and forth, and the third was as short as possible, on the campus quad in between classes.) 

“I just wanted to help you.” She murmured, then suddenly leaned over and kissed him quickly. He was so taken aback that it took him a second to spring back, eyes wide. “Brooklyn! What the hell!” 

She blushed, embarrassed as she started stammering. “I didn’t mean - I wasn’t thinking -” 

“Fuck.” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and shuddered, looking disgusted. “Get out.” 

She sat there for a moment longer, not looking at him. Her voice grew impossibly small and she picked at her cuticles, radiating anxious energy. “I didn’t drive.” 

“I don’t care. Get an Uber or something, get the fuck out.” Rafe was practically fuming as he glared out his window, not wanting to acknowledge her. 

“I - Rafe, I want -”

“Out.” He insisted. 

She nodded quickly and scrambled out of the car, casting a wayward glance back after walking away. Once he was sure she was around the corner, Rafe slammed his fist on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more - throw up or go scrub his body clean of any trace of her. Brooklyn’s floral perfume lingered in the car and he felt nauseous, unable to think of anything but Sophie and how she’d react once she found out. 

After he took a few moments to center himself, absolutely livid, he punched the ignition and peeled out of the parking lot, repeatedly swiping his hand over his lips in an attempt to get Brooklyn’s signature cake batter-flavored lip gloss off. (The summer after the breakup, Wheezie had started wearing a vanilla sugar perfume that smelled all too similar - Rafe had a headache for weeks.) He drove to a nearby park and sat out by the water to get away from the overwhelming perfume scent in his car, and his hand was nearly shaking as he hit the app to FaceTime Sophie, nervous as hell. 

She picked up right away, grinning once his face filled her screen. “Hi! It’s good to see you. I can’t talk long, I’m getting ready to go out, but what’s up?” 

“Um...” Rafe briefly debated bringing it up, anxiously pulling at a loose thread on his shorts. “Just checking in. How’s your day been?”

“Oh my god, so...” She launched into a ramble about a cool new project she was working on, and how she got to be with some of her new friends, and how she aced her Spanish test. He listened, a little impatient, as guilt ate at him.

“Soph -” He tried interrupting, knowing if he put it off any longer he’d make himself sick. 

She didn’t notice. “And it’s kind of tricky -”

“Baby, listen.” 

“- But it’ll be really rewarding -”

“Brooklyn kissed me.” He blurted out quickly.

She froze immediately, eyes wide with her lipstick raised halfway to her mouth. “She did what?” 

He bit his cheek hard before replying, his heart pounding. “I’m so sorry, Sophie, I didn’t - I should have known, her stupid dinner invite -” 

“Rafe, shut the fuck up, why are you apologizing? You didn’t kiss her back.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of trust, but he almost flinched from the hard edge to her voice.

He shook his head frantically. “No! No, of course I didn’t. Fuck. She barely even touched my lips before I pulled away.” 

“Fucking hell.” She had to set her phone down as she was practically shaking with anger. “I knew it.” 

“Knew what?” 

“I knew she was going to pull something, that - that -” She seethed, unable to get all her words out. 

“That…?” He tried supplying. 

“That bitch! Oh my god, what the hell? If I were there, I swear I’d - holy fuck. I’ve never wanted to punch someone until now.” She started pacing the room, flexing her fingers into fists. 

Rafe couldn’t hide his tiny smile, raising his eyebrows. “You’re kind of hot when you’re mad.” 

“Focus, Cameron.” She snapped. “Oh my god, she’s so fucking petty. First the Instagram messages, then this -”

“Wait, wait, hold on, what Instagram messages?” He interrupted, frowning. “What are you talking about?” 

“Oh.” She scowled, crossing her arms. “She followed me a couple weeks ago and went through and liked the posts that you’re in, and keeps responding to my stories. Like that group photo I posted the other day at the bar, some of the guys were in it? She literally responded with ‘wow, glad you’re getting some in Spain.’ What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Sophie, you should have told me.” He rubbed his temples, upset but completely unsurprised - Brooklyn had done that same to a friend he had taken to a date party once when they were in one of their many short breakups. “I’ll talk to her, tell her to knock it off -”

“And have her try and kiss you again? No, I don’t think you need to give her any reason to be one on one with you.” She huffed, indignant. “How many days again?” 

He paused to think. “Thirty? Twenty-nine?” 

“Jesus Christ.” She sighed, running her hand over her face. “Any chance you want to come early?” 

He looked apologetic, shaking his head. “Can’t, baby, I’m committed to this internship right up until I see you.” 

“Damnit.” She flopped back onto her bed and rolled over onto her stomach to face the camera again. “Next time you’re at dinner, let me know and I’ll text you a picture of my tits or something.” 

Rafe snorted. “I don’t know if that’s the best approach, but I wouldn’t be opposed to getting more nudes from you.” 

“No, you’re right, she’d probably just tell you I’m slutty or something.” She rolled her eyes, only for him to frown. “You’re not slutty, baby -” 

“I know, I know, whatever. What happened, seriously? Why’s she so hung up on you? I mean, I know why, look at you -” she gestured at the phone, making him laugh, “- but for real. Will you tell me?” 

He nodded, taking a moment before he spoke. “She, um, cheated on me, but I didn’t find out ‘til after she broke it off. Not until the charity gala, actually. She’d say things like, ‘you’re so needy,’ then would get mad at me if I went to hang out with the boys.” Rafe paused, thinking. “She invited herself to the Bahamas, both times. My dad loved her, that should have told me enough.” 

“Oh.” She murmured, frowning. “That’s fucked, Rafe, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, took me a while to snap out of it.” He half-joked, then his tone turned more sincere. “You should know, I was going to take you to the Bahamas house this spring, actually. But I didn’t want you to think I was showing off or something.” 

“Rafe Cameron, showing off?” She teased, lifting her hand with the Cartier ring and raising her eyebrows. “Never.” 

He immediately blushed, protesting. “That’s different!” 

She grinned. “Is it?” 

“It is. Totally different. I almost bought you the one with diamonds, that’d be showing off.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t.” 

“Yes, I almost did.” He grinned, noticing that she wore the ring on her ring finger instead of her middle finger like he’d originally put it on her. “Sarah talked me out of it, so go complain to her if you wanted that one. She said you’d probably have my head.” 

“Smart girl.” Sophie laughed. 

“Do you always wear it on that finger?” He asked with raised eyebrows. 

Her cheeks tinged pink and she shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but her tone took a defensive edge. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a finger. Why? Does it make you feel weird?” 

“No. Does it make you feel weird?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

“Good.” She shot back, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks for a moment. “I have to go, I’m late for meeting my friends now.” 

“Wait, Soph.” He smirked and she narrowed her eyes again, wary of what he was about to say. “What.” 

“Love you.” 

“That’s it?” 

He laughed, grinning. “I’m still not opposed to you sending me pictures of your tits when I’m at dinner.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Do you know how difficult it is to take a good nude? I have to be alone, I have to contort myself in a weird position or use the self timer, then I have to edit the lighting because I have to take them at night -” 

“Alright, alright, I get it. I’m just kidding.” 

“You absolutely were not. I love you. Go appreciate the pictures I’ve already given you.” 

“You gave me three for the entire summer.” He complained, and she rolled her eyes. “That’s a lie, I left you with three and I’ve sent you a couple since then. Goodbye, Cameron, love you, you ungrateful son of a bitch.” 

He grinned. “Wait, Sophie, wait.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re not mad? At me?” 

Sophie paused, furrowing her brow. “Do I have a reason to be mad at you? You’re already forgiven for not telling me, is there something else?” 

“No, no.” He shook his head quickly, voice going quiet. “I just, um. She would have had my head for what happened. I know you’re not her, but I’m just used to that, I guess.” 

She softened, wishing she could hold him. “I trust you, Rafe. I mean it. I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed off at her, but you didn’t do anything.” 

“And you’d tell me if you were?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little anxious. 

Sophie laughed softly, nodding. “You’d know if I was mad at you, baby, it’s hard to hide.” 

“Right. Okay.” He didn’t seem fully convinced, but nodded anyways. “I’ll let you go, then.” 

“Not mad at you. Good night, my favorite boy.” 

He gave her a small, shy smile. “You promise?” 

“I promise. You’re always my favorite.” She returned a bigger smile. “I’ll text you when I’m home if you need to talk more.” 

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” He waved her off, not wanting to seem too dependent. 

She nodded, blowing him a kiss with a grin. “Night, baby. Sweet dreams.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

[fandomdancer]

The Dance

In the year 2169, you are a senior in high school. You've been best friends with the same two young men since grade school. One of them is your date to the senior dance. The other is the class loner: Eobard Thawne. When your date make a suddenly unexpected move, you find yourself feeling like the perfect night is ruined. But then Eobard shows up...

Word Count: 3,754 words

Rating: T, but may be M

Pairings: OC/Reader, Eobard/Reader

A/N: First attempt at a reader-insert fic. Special thanks to @darlingpetao3 @yetanotherwells @wellsaddict and @hawk-lee for listening to me freak out about this, inspiring me, and giving me the courage to actually post it. I hope it's interesting and fun for you to read.

This is Mattobard's version of Thawne, since it takes place during his teenage years.

This fic was inspired by this song (which is the featured waltz in the story). 'Pride and Penance', from World of Warcraft: Shadowlands.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZtBflZHIcQ

_________________________________________________________

The moment you step into the darkened dance hall, you feel as though you have been transported back in time. In fact, you can’t help but wonder if the organizers of this year’s spring formal are utilizing some of Rip Hunter’s famous Time Couriers to literally open a door to the past. Everything around is, at minimum, dated back a hundred years ago, from the DJ setting up digital playlists to the black-light-illuminated chairs seated around tables littered with drinks, plates of food, and what looks like games. The music right now is from the early 2000s, but you expect the songs to range through decades, possibly even centuries over the course of the night. Multicolored lights hang from the ceiling, giving the place an overall ‘club’ look, accentuated by the powerful underlighting at the bar.

The temperature increases as you enter on your date’s arm, the exertion from the dancing and milling bodies heating up the air in the room. The dance started only thirty minutes ago, but the excitement in the room is palpable, and kids are wasting no time yelling ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous’ as they toss back nonalcoholic drinks. One table is already full of kids engaged in what looks like an intense card game with multicolored discs sprayed across the table in front of them.

Catching the fever of the room, you cast a huge grin up at your date, a handsome young man you’ve known since grade school. The two of you are dressed perhaps a little fancy for the event, with him in a fine, high-collared suit befitting a 20th century aristocrat and you in a deep red 1940s princess ballgown. Overdressing is okay: the two of you were expecting a slightly more ‘ballroom’ shindig, not this ‘21st century club’ event, and upon looking around you can see that other members of your class had similar ideas, wearing everything from 1800s Victorian gowns to military uniforms.

“They did a good job,” your date says. “Though one would think they could have come up with a more original theme name than ‘Blast to the Past’.”

“Don’t cheesy titles comprise part of the charm of last century?” you ask as the two of you move towards the obligatory picture arena. “Wasn’t stating the obvious considered not only funny, but…what was the word…a meemee?”

“Meme. One word, one syllable. And yes. Memes were a rather popular form of communication in the early 21st century, though I guess they started well before that.” Your date eyes the line and the picture-taking arena before them. “Is that….a phone booth?”

You are both intrigued as you watch a couple go into the booth, pulling a curtain shut and separating them from the outside world. Their feet are obvious as they scrabble into various positions, each one punctuated by a bright flash ands lots of giggling. The couple emerges, looking flushed and full of smiles, and watch as two thin strips of plastic emerged from the wall of the booth. The two grab the plastic strips and look at them, giggling as they walk away.

“It’s a photo booth.”

The voice right beside you and your date startles you, and you quickly look over to see one of the chaperones for the event, Ms. Steinway, a few feet away. The young teacher looks stunning in a green floor-length gown, her blonde hair floating ethereally around her shoulders. She gestures. “You go in, and you have five pictures taken of you in quick succession. There’s usually only three to four seconds between each photo so people often planned ahead what they would do ahead of time. You can make faces, or be serious…whatever you would like!”

“Thank you, Ms. Steinway,” you say before looking back to your date. “Well. I guess we have about a minute to come up with five different poses.”

“Why don’t we improvise? We’re both good thinkers on our feet.”

The tension and pressure of racing to beat a timed photo session is appealing to you, probably a side effect of all the time you've been spending lately with your other friend, Eobard Thawne. He has a strong taste for competition and it’s been rubbing off on you in the years you’ve known him.

The sudden thought of Thawne makes you skim the room, wondering if the class loner has actually shown up to tonight’s dance. You’re pretty sure he’s not here; this isn’t his type of thing at all. It’s certainly why you didn’t ask him to be your date. It’s also the only reason why you didn’t ask him to be your date. Eobard Thawne’s proud, handsome figure and strikingly keen intellect has drawn many a girl’s attention over the years, including yours, and you’ve made a concentrated effort to ignore it. But lately, you’ve noticed that he seems to be hovering near you much more often. And he got into a fistfight with your date a few weeks ago…you never did quite figure out what had caused that argument…

Seeing him here tonight would definitely open a lot of doors, however. Perhaps you would be brave enough to ask him for a single dance. He can be a truly arrogant ass but he has always been at least civil to you…probably because the two of you have also known each other since grade school.

Your date pushes you forward and you realize that, as usual, thoughts of Eobard have distracted you for several seconds. It is your turn in the photo booth.

The booth is small and simple, with a little touch screen that simply says ‘go’. A quick glance over the screen shows that presets are in place, with no way to change them. It is a little aggravating to not be able to customize the photos but you suppose that’s to get the line of kids moving quickly. With a quick glance at your date, the two of you reach out and tap the ‘go’ button together.

The very first thing he does is kiss you. It’s so fast and so intense that you don’t even have time to react. Suddenly his mouth is open and wet and moving on yours and his hand is in your carefully-crafted hairstyle and you are shocked beyond words because of all the poses you had considered in this run of pictures, your longtime friend kissing you was not one of them. You’ve suspected he felt this way about you and there was no doubt in your mind that he would be an excellent romantic partner, but you hadn’t really…thought about him like that. In fact, the only person you really thought about like that was…Eobard.

He finally pulls back and looks quickly at the camera, grinning widely. Your brain is fuzzed and rolling with several unfinished sentences and questions, but some little part of you keeps control and turns to smile bright and beautiful at the screen. The two of you make silly faces next, and as you are setting up for what you think is the next picture, the screen goes dark. You realize in shock that he used three of the five pictures to kiss you. Feeling frustrated and cheated, you get out of the booth, pasting a smile on your face so as not to appear angry to the line of kids waiting outside. You’ll have plenty of time to discuss his choices later.

The pictures print out and they’re definitely difficult to look at. The first one shows your obvious surprise, but the second two are worse, showcasing your desperate attempt to keep control of what is happening by grabbing at his face and responding to his kiss. It was not your best decision, but you feel like it was your only choice at the moment – and that realization makes you furious.

The two of you head to an unoccupied table, and the moment you set down the photos you whirl on your date, your insides twisted in knots and your throat almost sealed shut from the force of your anger. “What the hell?”

“What?”

It’s even hotter in this room with your anger charging you up. You are pretty sure your face is the color of your dress. “You kissed me.”

He smiles. “Of course I did. What did you think we were going to do in there?”

Your mouth drops open. “Make faces and smile! When did kissing appear on the list of things to do tonight?”

His brow furrows. “When you agreed to be my date. Come now, you can’t possibly miss all the signs I’ve given you. You know me better than that.”

His self-entitled arrogance sets your teeth on edge and you clutch the table so hard you’re amazed it doesn’t bend. “I’ve known you for almost all of my life and you have never been so rude as to just kiss someone without making sure it’s all right with them! You wait for that kind of invitation! You don’t blindside her during a timed picture taking session!”

“Spontaneity has never been your thing, and I respect that,” he begins to say.

You cut him off. “Clearly not or these wouldn’t exist!” You wave the pictures at him before slamming them down onto the table. You don’t know what you’re angrier about now; being forced into this situation before you felt ready, his seeming blindness to how the whole situation played out, or the fact that you feel like what should have been a beautiful moment is ruined and you are never going to get it back.

A waltz begins to play, the very song the two of you were hoping would be the focus of the evening, and he reaches a hand out to you. “You’re right. I made a terrible mistake. I thought it would be fun and I assumed you would be all right with it. I am sorry. I truly am. We will go have the pictures retaken. But will you dance with me? This sounds like a beautiful waltz and I don’t want to have ruined the night by making a terrible decision right at the beginning.”

He sounds sincere but you don’t answer him at first. Your mind is still awash with anger and betrayal and a sudden desire to be anywhere but in this room right now. You don’t want to just forgive him for doing this to you. But you also don’t want the night to be ruined, and right now the song playing sounds like it could be a wonderful dance and you aren’t sure how many more will be played with the selection of music likely being offered. Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his.

“We aren’t done with this conversation,” you state firmly.

“Of course not.” He twirls you gently. “But this song fits you and I want to see you dancing to it.”

You don’t know the name of the song, but it has a haunting melody to it, almost ghostlike with sliding violins. Waltzes always have a kind of built-in grace to them, a slippery seduction meant to make it easy to move to. But this piece has an additionally dramatic vocalist that elevates the rhythm to something royal and aristocratic. You can almost imagine the two of you (and the couples that are joining you on the floor) dancing in the hall of an ancient, grand mansion while a dark storm swirls outside the floor-to-ceiling windows and the dry fingers of tree branches curl menacingly in shadows on the floor, trapping the dancers’ feet in their grip.

“Pardon me.”

The familiar voice snaps you out of the daydream you are drifting into, and you rock slowly back and forth in your date’s arms as you realize Eobard is standing in front of you two. Your breath catches and your heart rate picks up instantly as you look at him. He looks as though he has stepped straight out of your daydream: a young lord trapped in a dying manor, cloaked in high-collared black and red with the light shimmering blindingly on his short blond hair. Even more shocking is the dramatic flair he has added to the outfit: a full-length black cape fastened at his neck with a ruby. He is too beautiful to touch and yet your hands…and other, sweeter, deeper parts of you…ache as you stare at him.

His eyes sweep over you and you think you see his jaw clench slightly before he speaks again. “May I cut in?”

“You’re in our way, Bardo,” your date growls, all softness and politeness gone from his voice.

“I wasn’t addressing you,” Eobard responds to him but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Your throat is growing dry from the simple intensity of his gaze. “I was addressing your partner." He nods to you. "May I cut in?”

You finally register what he is asking, and the thrill that races through you makes you shiver. You had thought you might have the courage to ask him to dance if you had seen him here, but him asking you is completely unexpected. Saying no to him might prevent him from asking again, but saying yes would probably send the wrong message to your date.

Then again, your date certainly sent you the wrong message when he forced you to kiss him in the photo booth.

It’s a very simple question with a very simple answer.

“I would be honored,” you reply, trying to sound as cool and proper as possible. As you pull away from your date, you feel his hands clench briefly on you. You quickly look up at him, seeing the betrayal in his eyes. At first you feel smug, but then you remind yourself that he did apologize. You give him your best comforting smile. “We’ll continue this later,” you say to him, making his expression soften just a little. But the look he gives Eobard is poisonous.

Eobard’s expression doesn’t change. Instead, he unfastens the cape from around his neck and whips it dramatically off, draping it unceremoniously on your date’s still-outstretched arms. “Would you be so kind as to place this on a nearby chair?”

Redness floods your date’s face, and you start to open your mouth to scold Eobard for his rudeness, but his hands grip you firmly and he spins you away into the dancing crowd before you can say a word. Your feet scrabble as you try to keep up, and you have a feeling he’s trying to get you as far away from your date as fast as possible. Focusing on your movements, you catch his rhythm and begin to move in time with him, gaining control over yourself while still permitting him to lead. You’re angry enough now that you’re tempted to just walk out the door after this dance. When did your two best friends turn into such boys? They’re acting like you’re a prize in a competition and while that might be flattering, it’s making you feel a bit like an object and not like the lady you want to be tonight.

“You dance well,” Eobard compliments.

You roll your eyes. “You dragged me out here and I just got my balance back. Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he answers. “I mean what I say. I saw you trying to dance with your date over there. He was trying. You were succeeding.”

You snort and sigh. “I wish the two of you would tell me why you both seem to have lost your minds lately.”

Eobard tilts his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your heart pounds and you know what you hope the answer is, but coming right out and saying it feels like a such a terrible risk. Eobard’s emotional difficulties make him dangerous sometimes, the wrong word or look pushing him away for days at a time. You are not going to ruin this night, this dance, this moment that has been playing in your dreams.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” you say, trying to put an innocent look on your face. You aren’t sure if it works or not, but the hard look in Eobard’s eyes softens somewhat, and he guides you around the floor. Looking up at him, you surrender your mind to the daydream, milking this moment for all it is worth. The seductive waltz paints the image of a great hall, decadent in its decay, the memory of opulence just as romantic as the opulence itself. And Eobard, cold and proud and throat-achingly beautiful, spins you around it, commanding your body with his touch, and commanding your mind with his eyes.

“Your friend and I,” he says in a low voice, “are both seeking your approval.”

Dear God, he actually said it. You’re almost dizzy with excitement as you frantically think of how to navigate the next few sentences. Honesty is going to be key. “You have a funny way of showing it. First that fistfight a few weeks ago and now tonight he just kisses me out of the blue and then you drag me off like I belong to you or something…”

“He did what?” Eobard stops the two of you cold, and you blink, looking up at his grey eyes, watching in surprise as they turn stormy and dark. His pale face begins to flush as he gazes down at you. You can’t tell if what you’re seeing is anger or not, but as his eyebrows draw together you feel your insides flutter. It’s more than just anger. It’s jealousy.

Eobard is jealous.

The realization makes your throat close and you swallow several times as adrenaline floods your veins. The possibilities open up in your mind, and you suddenly realize that while both men are, in fact, treating you like a prize, you are still the one in control.

“He kissed me for our photo,” you say carefully, letting the frustration and hurt show on your face. “I didn’t know he was going to.”

Eobard looks at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and his face continuing to grow red. His hands tighten on your waist and hand, and a strange excitement blooms in your chest. Eobard Thawne, so aloof and elitist, suffering from the simple emotion of jealousy. And jealousy related to you, because he’s seeking your approval. Despite the heat of the moment, you find yourself fighting a smile.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks tightly.

You know the truth and you know what saying it will mean. But right now, you are unable to lie to him, captivated by the thrill of his reaction and the intoxicating crescendo building around you.

“No.”

Eobard’s chin lifts and a smug satisfaction fills his eyes as the music crescendos loudly. With a climactic crash of drums, he decisively pushes you out into a firm spin, and then brings you back in, his hand slipping to the small of your back and holding you flush against his body. And for one fiery, fierce moment, you realize that you can feel him, dear God, all of him, pressed possessively against you, and a weakness makes your knees wobble and your mouth go dry as you stare into his eyes, only inches away, and realize what he is silently saying to you.

Then the two of you are moving again as he takes everything up another notch, whirling you both within the crowd as though you have all the space in the world. The music pounds with your steps, pulsing inside of you, the melody a full-throated cry from the whole orchestra, igniting adrenaline and fire within you. Your mouth falls open to gasp for air as your eyes drift closed. You don’t need to see, only to feel the clutch of his hands and the heat of his body and the light pressure on your waist as he leads you.

And then, in one powerful beat, the music stops. Eobard pushes you backwards into a dramatic dip, holding you up while your hands claw at him. You can’t see the ecstasy on your face but a few gasps from the people around you suggest that the two of you may be in a very compromising position. You don’t care. Your body is shaking and tingling. You feel sweat dampening your skin, and the heat…you’re drowning in it. But you don’t want to move. You don’t want it to be over. Most of all, you don’t want his hands leaving you. Ever.

Your breath comes in heavy gasps as he draws you up to your feet. He steadies you, and your eyes finally drift open. The sight before you makes you shiver again. Eobard is breathing just as hard as you are, and has the same slightly dazed expression on his face that you are feeling. You vaguely realize that while you were trying to keep your balance you gripped his hair and shirt because both of them are bunched and mussed. But neither of you can look away from the other for several seconds.

Finally, he is the first one to move. He gently straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He brings his heels together and reaches for your hand. He bows, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it.

“Thank you,” he says, “for the lovely dance. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need some air.”

You nod slowly. “I…think I do too.”

Something sparks in his eyes, and he offers you his arm. You consider taking it, but the sensation that sweeps through you as you realize what the implications are stop you. You are awash in powerful emotions now, enough to know that if you go with him, you’re going to do something you want…

….oh do you want….

….but on impulse, caught up in the moment.

You know you need to gather yourself. The night has only just begun.

“I will see you back in here,” you reply, offering a polite curtsey. It isn’t a blatant rejection, just more of a ‘not now’. Eobard seems to understand and his withdraws his hand before turning and striding for the door.

You head for a different exit, catching a glimpse of your date just as you leave the room. His face is a thunderstorm, and you feel a slight chill that cuts through the hazy fog of your mind.

The night has only just begun, and you have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.

[banhchao]

Olivia doesn't want you to "get her out of there" she clearly likes it, you'd be able to tell if you weren't such a damn retard

Okie... first of all when we say “Olivia we’ll get you outta there” we don’t mean away from Taehyung, we mean away from his crazy toxic fans that might send her rude things or say terrible insults about her out of jealousy of her being so close in proximity to him (which ppl have started to see on Twitter already). Kpop stans can get petty and cruel as hell towards women they are jealous of so it was said in a way to defend her from them. Also I’m not gonna be a weirdo and ship them cause she is only 18 and he’s what... 26??? That age gap is 😬😬😬.

Second of all, I’m assuming you are referring to these tags:

When I say “yes I know he’s from BTS still” I’m not saying he’s not Asian (I’m fully aware he is... I’m quite literally ASIAN) i say that as a disclaimer as I’m aware some of my followers don’t like BTS and maybe wouldn’t care to see him. So it’s like “I know he’s from BTS and you guys don’t wanna see him but he still provides asian rep”. I personally have no beef with Taehyung and said NOTHING negative in the tags; I thought the interaction was cute and I like seeing Asian artists from the west and east interacting as it really shows the diverse set of asian rep we get to see in the media. A Korean singer from the homeland and a half-Filipina singer from America - it’s a fun interaction to see. That’s ALL I said. Like girl... you are reaching so hard it’s like you WANT me to hate him. Also fuck off??? This is my blog; I didn’t invite you here!!! You barged in, unwanted!!!

Hello iamxueyang (yes I am finally dropping your URL because I know it’s you; you are the only racist and transphobic white girl to constantly drop into my inbox and harass and insult me despite how many times I’ve blocked your anons), you have been nothing but hostile, volatile and rude to me despite me having done NOTHING to you. You have been extremely racist and misogynistic to me, you have treated me like shit and your personal punching bag when I don’t agree with you (despite it being YOU visiting my blog and getting yourself riled up and despite ME having blocked you), you have lied to me to try to prove your points (even going as so far to racefake) and you continue to harass me despite my boundaries having been clearly set that I have no interest interacting with someone racist, transphobic and quite frankly... fucking mean. you called me the r-slur over what... you thinking I was insulting some kpop boy? and insinuating I’m dirty and disgusting and jealous and bitter of what??? Of who??? cause I’m SE Asian and not E Asian? Cause I’m presumably ugly and unloved??? Idk where you find the gall to run ur mouth to strangers on the internet like this just because they don’t agree with you or like the same things you do, despite you not knowing a single THING or EXPERIENCE about me but it’s fucking disgusting and horrible. And the fact you have been harassing me for so long knowing fully well you don’t even LIKE me. It’s as if you thrive off being mean to random people you don’t even know (no this is not a brave and badass move like you may think it is, this is harassment).

I have tried to be nice to you iamxueyang despite having to deal with your racism and misogyny. I have tried to understand you. I know you are young and learning so I tried all I could to answer your questions and be civil. I never even explicitly revealed your URL until now cause i didn’t want ppl coming after you for all of the shitty things you say to me cause again I know you are young. But this time, you have gone too far. You constantly hit me with nothing but these rude and mocking insults and comments, with racism, misogyny, invalidation and treat me like an evil villain. For what?! Am I even a human to you? Do I not have feelings, experiences and emotions? Am I just a worthless, faceless being?!

I don’t know what you want to achieve being a bully to strangers on the internet on behalf of a bunch of asian men you fetishize, iamxueyang but you need to stop harassing strangers, respect boundaries and ... stop being so racist, misogynistic and transphobic?!? LIKE?!?! Idk why your bio says “uwu racists fuck off i don’t like you” when you have been NOTHING but horribly racist and cruel to me! Like ma’am you gotta get that out of your bio cause you are NO ALLY if you are racist to asian women and fetishize asian men! your young age DOES NOT mean you can harass random strangers on the internet nor be a racist, transphobe or misogynist!!! I feel terribly sorry for the other ppl you have probably harassed to death here and maybe even in real life with your bigotry and cruelty!!! if you refuse to respect the boundaries of others (and their human rights for that matter) you need to get off the internet!!! AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!! like I rlly don’t understand why you are so obsessed with this blog and yet only view my posts with malicious intent? I hope to GOD you don’t treat ppl irl like this; they deserve so much better than to be poorly treated as I was by you. You cannot have healthy relationships if you constantly refuse to respect people.

I am incredibly tired and frustrated of having to deal with you constantly despite it being clear I want nothing to do with you but even now, I can’t express myself fully because I KNOW you will somehow twist this into me being the “oversensitive, angry, unreasonable, jealous and bitter WOC” if I do.

To my followers, I implore that you do not interact with this user and just block them. Don’t send hate messages of any sort; I don’t condone any sort of hate sent on my behalf and I condemn violent threats of any sort. I have no interest stooping so low to some random teen girl that doesn’t see me as human. And truth be told, I have no desire for this to escalate any further. Also, this person has an extremely strong victim complex and will twist the narrative to make themselves be the victim; please do not give them any sort of ammo. For your mental health and safety, please block and report even. I don’t wish any of you to have to deal with this sorta harassment; you are all far too precious.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 2

Hello there! I present to you, part 2 of my orc x fem!human series!

I still don't know what to name this fic of mine

I should've thought about the title in the first place lmao

Anyways! I'll try updating constantly if I can. Enjoy reading!

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, lots of cursing. Mild violence and mentions of injury.

UD 01/10/21 : CLEANED AND PROOFREAD PROPERLY (hey I did my best)

(reference to the mask she's currently wearing //her hair is still braided// )

*

Even with the tedious introduction the professor was on about, I couldn’t help but pick up the whispers of my human classmates, and the unmistakable nasty odor they were giving off.

“Hey. Look at that orc over there.”

“Tsk. Beast. Why is it even here—”

“I bet it’s gonna get suspended from breaking someone’s arm.”

“It looks like he’s gonna kill somebody soon.”

Snickers and clicks of disgust went around the group.

The professor shushed them, not quite knowing what they were talking about before he moved on.

I cursed, feeling my blood boil from their words. The orc wasn’t even doing anything! And they slander him like that? I would love to break their fucking ne—

No, damn it! No violence! Mama will go crazy if she finds out I broke someone’s spine. Behave and endure. Remember your training.

...but seriously though, I'm going to fucking snap their legs. Nah, perhaps use pepper spray on their eyes until they go blind, even though the mixture inside my spray bottle wasn’t made to have permanent effects on someone, but it would still cause great discomfort.

I hugged my backpack, the thought of my dusters inside somehow comforting.

I didn’t notice Tai'chi was taking glances at me out of concern while I was imagining how I’d smash those jerks’ faces.

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

My mind wandered around the interaction by the gates earlier, and how... contradicting... it was when I entered the building.

Everything passed like a blur as I continued daydreaming about other things, hardly paying attention to what everyone else was saying. Plus it takes a lot of concentration to survive their pungent scents.

A bell rang, bringing me back down to Earth. It was lunchtime already.

Everyone seemed relieved as they started filing out of the area and headed towards the cafeteria. [a/n: Ooh that rhymed] I failed to see the lingering glances of barely masked distaste in our direction.

I glanced at the or— Tai'chi, whom I found out was looking at me already, stunning me at how he stared for a moment before I broke eye contact and stood up, which he also did. I almost fell back down my chair when I scented him.

Wha—

How the fuck did I not smell him before?!

I must’ve focused too much on the awful odor surrounding me that it didn’t register this—

This, oh my God.

To describe it, it was simply so— manly (or is it Orcish?). Like the scent of fresh earth and the warmth of a fireplace in the midst of a cold night. Embers crackling and sending sparks up into the sky.

He doesn’t smell one trace of a beast at all! In fact, I’ve never smelled someone so clean, so pleasant, all the while exuding masculinity, and was that a tad hint of vanilla?

For the first time in a while, I couldn’t place what the feeling was exactly. He simply smells so— good. Which is a positive sign?

I looked up to his eyes once more before I blurted out, probably a little too high-pitched;

“Lunch?”

Seriously? That’s what comes out of your damn mouth?

“I mean, do you want to go grab some lunch? At the cafeteria?” I clarified to sound normal and unaffected, (even when I clearly am).

Was the last part necessary? You’ve broken noses, dealt painful blows like a skilled warrior, but you’re embarrassing yourself.

I was busy reprimanding myself that I nearly missed what he said.

"Sure.”

He straightened up, and I was then faced with the reality of how damn tall he is. Or is it because I’m short? I barely reached over 5 feet, and he is standing there, almost three heads taller than me. Was he hunching for my sake earlier?

Wowie…

I scented a hint of pride, and was that a small quirk of his lips for a second there?

Huh. My mask is a lifesaver, or else he would've seen my jaw dropping.

I followed him out and headed straight for the campus’ cafeteria, all the while trying to converse here and there.

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

'Trying’ was not the right word.

Definitely not.

It was surprising, how easy and nice it was to talk to him. I could scent his apprehensiveness when I talked to him at first, but he relaxed not long after I introduced myself properly.

It felt... natural.

I learned that he came from the Northside of the country and moved to the city last year to pursue his dreams and to find a better future for his clan. I also told him about my family and home, along with my reasons for being here, leaving out the… violent part.

“My family and my entire clan wanted the best for me and my brothers. Up in the North, education is… very limited. Although ever since we were young, we were taught everything from our clan’s history, how to hunt for food, what herbs and plants were poisonous, what were medicinal and edible, how to stay alive, survive and so on.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“But we were cut off from the modern world. Times are changing, fast. Global warming being a major problem, leaving a huge impact on our living. So, when my clan heard about a school in the city, open to all races, they turned to us, the youth, and we took this chance.”

I looked down and thought about how disconnected the others were, only given the freedom to modern society eight years ago. Eight years is a long time, but I guess it’ll take more than that for everyone to get used to the change. That doesn’t mean they should treat them poorly!

As I realized I’ve been quiet for a while, I shot up and apologized for not replying.

“No, it’s okay. You looked like you were in deep thought. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Y-yeah… I was—”

“Thinking about how the majority of the human race still see us as beasts?”

There was a bit of spite in his voice, although barely noticeable. Or was it because I caught a whiff of it? No one was paying much attention to us while we were walking. But I noticed many of them hastily stepping aside and felt their glares at my back.

“How did you know?” I asked, curious.

“I could tell from your- I could tell, from the way you frowned earlier when one of those humans said something.”

Oh. He was looking at me that time?

“Frowned? But my mask—”

“It’s easy to tell if you are frowning when your eyebrows scrunch up like that. Believe me, my father does that a lot.”

“Ah. Well. It was just very rude of them. To talk shit about you and your kind like that, as if they were any better. You weren’t even doing anything, and they judge you based on your race. Orcs are civilized and intelligent just like any other, and I don’t understand why there’s still so much prejudice after eight damn years—”

I stopped and restrained the urge to go wild and curse every single human who smelled so foul every time we pass by.

“Sorry. I was...rambling.”

Was I this talkative? Maybe it's because I never had anyone to talk to.

He didn’t reply, which I found strange, so I glanced over at him and saw his eyes wide open and brows shooting up in surprise. It was almost comical.

“Uh, Tai'chi?”

Before he could even utter a word, we arrived at a huge hall where students were chatting and enjoying their lunch. Still, I noticed some humans were giving unkind looks to a gathering of goblins eating at the far left side corner of the cafeteria.

And of course, I didn’t fail to smell that wretched odor coming from a group of girls on my right when we walked in. I also recognized the one who pushed me, (No doubt it was intentional). I had to pinch my nose over my mask just but I could only block out half of it.

Ah shit, this mask doesn’t have proper air filtration.

I groaned as I tried to cut off the noise and thickened scents. For real, I wasn’t expecting it to be this harsh! I could literally smell discrimination and hate in the air!

Fuck. I should’ve worn my other mask. I swear I’m gonna burst if I stay and inhale more of that any longer—

“Pearl, are you okay?”

I groaned again and didn’t reply, busy controlling my sense of smell to even open my mouth. We were standing there like a pair of street posts, blocking a small part of the main entrance. That is if there was a 5ft- tall post. I’m more like that foldable caution sign.

“Pearl—”

“Hey, you there! Freaks! Move out of the way.”

Great. Another awful fucking odor. And what a coincidence! It was the one I smelled this morning!

“Are you deaf? I said—”

He shouldn’t have grabbed my shoulder, shouldn’t have tried to shove me aside, for the second I felt his hand reaching for me, and before Tai'chi could pull me away, my reflexes kicked in.

What did I do exactly? Oh, I simply grabbed that damned arm of his, threw him over my shoulder, and slammed him down on the tiled floor in front of me, finishing a one-arm shoulder throw.

The people in the area halted what they were doing and a short-lived silence came over, broken by whispers.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The guy I just performed basic self-defense on was spitting curse words at me. He was still on the floor, trying not to voice the pain in his back.

“Freak! You’re a monster, aren’t you?! How dare you do this to me. Don't you know who I am?!" he yelled.

Did he mean me or? Either way, what he said was not true.

I tried to calm my anger down and gave him a forced smile, under my mask, and mustered up the voice and tone I always used when I’m annoyed.

But right now, I am pissed.

“Now, dear, fellow, human, what you said was clearly untrue. I am entirely human and this person beside me is an orc. Or were you blinded by your overgrown ego and disgusting attitude to see the obvious in front of you? Surely that must be it. The entrance to the cafeteria is wide enough for two people to not serve as a hindrance to the ones coming in, but still, you chose to try and shove me aside yourself. Well, I won’t apologize but I’ve had enough pushing for one day. And lastly, no, I do not know you and I don’t care.”

I gritted my teeth, my face hurting from smiling forcefully. The cafeteria was quite silent enough all the while and no doubt they heard every word I said.

Fuck.

I twisted around and bolted out of the building.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I blew it! Fucking blew my chance to have a normal college life! Now everyone will think I’m some crazy person and would, without a doubt, avoid me forever.

I was too busy cursing and walking away, planning to hide in a hole for all eternity that I didn’t feel the presence of someone following me.

Without thinking much of where I was heading, my feet led me to a secluded part of the uni. Tall trees lining up before and around me looking like an entrance to a forest, and so I tried hiding behind one. Hoping that the guards wouldn’t notice and detain me or something.

I sat down between the great roots of an oak tree and rested my head on top of my knees as I took deep breaths and listened.

Nature always had a place in my heart. How could it not? When you can hear the chirps of little birds, the soothing sound of leaves rustled by the wind. And the peace that comes with it all.

Not to mention it smells so relaxing.

“Hello there.”

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

Haha! What will Pearl do next I wonder, and who is this person who followed her??

Had to cut it off at that part because my dearest self just loves cliff hangers—

And because I wanted to post something as soon as possible.

Hope you enjoyed! I will be working on the third part asap.

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[leomitchellart]

So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself. 

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed. 

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour. 

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year. 

 - The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand. 

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no. 

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for. 

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead.  Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves. 

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine. 

[jacks-wylan]

considering that this site keeps hiding this fic from the tags (i am very sad about this) I decided to do what most of you do in this circumstances and posting here an extract, and then put the link to ao3 in the reblogs. just hoping that it doesn’t STILL get hidden.

tw: suicidal thoughts, depression, major character death but he’s not really dead because I want happy endings where everyone lives, mentioned abuse. 

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

Geralt snorts, looking at the severed head at his feet. Every time is worse than the last, but bandits just don't understand that he's going to fight regardless his all being telling him that it's wrong, he's not going to get punched and robbed just because of what townsfolk, then, say about him.

He ignores the blood on his hands, and on his armor. Blood that isn't of monsters, but just people too angry, too mad, too greedy.

He doesn't ignore the bags, though. So, he sheathes his sword, crouches near the dead bodies, and rummages in their satchels, hoping to find something to eat – and if he's lucky enough, they have wine and booze. He's going to have a wonderful night in the woods, in Roach's company and with a... a ham sandwich, he finds, and a liquor he doesn't recognize, but it seems good. The smell is good, and that's enough.

“Are you... are you stealing from dead people?”

Geralt freezes, and for a second he doesn't know what to do. He didn't hear anyone approaching, and he didn't feel anyone around him until he heard that voice.

He puts an hand on the hilt of his sword, and turns around. Just to freeze again.

“I am in no position to criticize your way of living, but, uuh, maybe it's kind of unethical?” the figure in front of him starts to move his hands in a swiftly way, “Really, I wouldn't feel very respected.”

“They were trying to rob and kill me.” Geralt says, just because he's trying to gain more time to understand what the fuck is in front of him.

“Well.” the figure sniffs, “I guess that's... that's even. They were trying to rob and kill you, and in response you did kill and rob them. Makes sense.”

Geralt says, “You are a ghost.”

The ghost pouts. It literally pouts: its mouth's edges point towards the ground, and its lower lip gets bitten by its teeth, “I am very aware, dear stranger. It's really sad, I must say, because I can't really see my face in any kind of reflective surface, but I feel very young. Isn't it unfair? I am too young to be dead! But wait, you can see me? People couldn't. Not that I was in towns for long, really, but they never told anything about a strange, translucent, and I guess attractive ghost around them. Anyway, you can see me! Can you tell me if I am young or I am just a very healthy – as healthy as a dead man could be, I suppose – old man?”

The ghost in front of him is a young lad, indeed. His skin is translucent, in fact, so Geralt can't really say of what his hair colour was when he was alive, same with his eyes. “You're young. No more than twenty, maybe less.”

“See?” the ghost seems outraged, “That's an injustice.”

“People die all the time, you are not the only one.” says Geralt, and abandons the grip he has on his sword. “They killed you?” adds then, pointing the dead bodies at his feet.

“I have no idea. I don't even know who I am. Hell, I don't even know how's my face! How can I know who killed me?”

“Hm.”

“I found myself in the nearest town. I didn't travel a lot. I don't really know what should I do. Wasn't I supposed to, I don't know, transcend or something? They didn't become ghosts.” the ghost says, indicating the dead bandits with a dry gesture. “Why am I stuck here?”

“Don't know.” Geralt says. He grabs the things he found in the bandits satchels, and goes towards Roach. He puts everything inside her saddlebag, then jumps on top of her. “But I'm a Witcher. I can find out what happened to you. Probably your body lays somewhere in town. Hopefully, someone will pay me for finding you.”

“I'm not sure about that.” the ghost's voice takes on a bitter sound. “I haven't heard anything about me. I guess that, that maybe no one misses me.”

“Hm.” Geralt doesn't say anything, nudging Roach to start trotting towards civilization. If he remembers correctly, the closest town is Posada, and it's a two day ride. “You're not a wraith yet. Probably you died not too long ago. Your family may not know of your demise yet.”

“Maybe.”

Geralt feels strange. It's uncommon to find a conscious ghost, an innocuous ghost – after all, they don't take too long to become wraiths. If the boy didn't die a painful death, he didn't become a ghost in the first place, so that's out of questions.

Somehow, something twists in his chest in knowing that, for sure, the boy died a horrid death. Life is never fair, after all. The best thing Geralt can do for him, is to give him peace.

“Anyway! I don't know your name, Witcher. I don't know mine either, really, but from the moment I found myself a ghost I called myself Jaskier. I don't know if I was called like this before my death or if I just, you know, invented it on the spot, but you can call me that.”

Jaskier is definitely a made up name. But maybe it was his pet name, it can be useful.

“You talk a lot.”

Behind him, the ghost – Jaskier – huffs, “Do you have any idea how does it feel to talk and no one ever listen to you? Well, no one can see me, nor hear me. It really hurts my feelings. But here you are, Witcher, with your powerful... very fantastic witchery powers, you can do all this things! And my feelings hurt no more, with finally someone hearing my laments.”

“They are whines, not laments.”

“That's the same.” the boy says, nonchalant. Geralt can't hear his steps, obviously, but with the corner of his eye he sees his light silhouette getting near him and Roach. Roach flicks her ears, but she doesn't get scared of the presence. Good girl. “So, your name? I need to call you, you know. And I refuse to call you just Witcher!”

“Geralt of Rivia.”

“Thank you, Geralt of Rivia.” The wood around them gets thicker, and it covers most of the rays of midday sun. Apart from the scuffle with the bandits, and apart from the fact that he's now, well, haunted, the day seems to be uneventful. Just the wood on the Path in front of him – of them – and the clear sky above them. “Where are we going?”

It's going to be uneventful, but fuck. The ghost can't stay silent for shit.

“Posada.”

“Why Posada?”

“It's the nearest town.”

“Is it? Gods, I don't know if it was actually Posada I found myself in. Well, maybe? I guess I will find out the moment I will recognize the streets.”

“You said the nearest. Posada is the nearest.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What you said.” Jaskier clears his voice. Does ghosts need to clear their voice? Or to cover their embarrassment? Do they even feel embarrassment? “I am deeply sorry if I can't be more of help. I really don't remember anything. Nothing, just black void in my head.”

Geralt sighs, “I have no doubt.”

“Wait.” Jaskier huffs in outrage, running until he can be in front of Roach. He stops there in the middle of the Path, and Roach flicks her ears again. Geralt calms her with a caress on her neck. “What are you implying? That I'm an idiot? I am dead, I have any reason to be distracted and confused. If you've ever been dead, you'd understand.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“No, wait, I said it wrong.”

Geralt nudges Roach again in a calm but steady ride, “Less talking, more walking.”

“But I've been walking for days, Geralt, and my feet are sore!”

“You're dead. You can't have sore feet.”

Jaskier pouts again, and even if he could easily stay in the middle of the road – not that Roach would have killed him by walking on him, after all – he nonetheless leaves the Path free for the horse, and Geralt then finds him walking beside him again. Jaskier starts talking about the things he's done from the moment he found himself dead since the moment he found Geralt, and really he hasn't done literally anything, but the ghost can't seem to shut up about the people ignoring him, about his tired limbs and the fact that he still thinks that stealing food from dead bodies is a bit strange.

Jaskier emphasizes that with more fervor when they stop in a clearing for the night, and after Geralt has lighted a fire and taken care of Roach, he sits in his sprawled bedroll and takes out from Roach's saddlebag one of the sandwiches he found in the bandits' satchels.

But at that point, Jaskier – finally, Geralt would say – shuts up.

Feeling observed, Geralt looks at him with his mouth full and with a raised eyebrow.

Jaskier shakes his head, and with a huff, he sits next to him. “No, nothing.” he says, while fidgeting with a hem of his shirtsleeve. “Okay, well, if you really want to know,” he adds then, even though Geralt has ignored him, “I am, uh. I am hungry.”

Geralt blinks at him. “Hm. Let me see if I have a ghost sandwich in my bag. Hm, no. I haven't. I apologize.”

“You are really, reeaaally rude. And awful. A very bad person, that has no sensitivity towards the dead! Oh, I should have known that the moment you stole from a dead man!”

“They were three, but go on.”

“See? Awful!”

“You are aware that you can't feel hunger.”

“And yet!”

Geralt looks at him with half lidded eyes, unbothered by his whining. This ghost is strange and innocuous, but leaves a kind of feeling in his gut that Geralt doesn't like. It's not danger, more nervousness he daresay – for what, he doesn't know. Probably because he's still too... lively. Ghosts shouldn't have so much energy, so heartfelt emotions.

Really, all ghosts Geralt has seen all his long life – they are actually a lot, wraiths the lot of them, and they all rest in peace now thanks to his sword – were... very different from Jaskier, in many way beside the appearance.

Geralt finishes his dinner, feed the fire so it won't die during the night, and lays on his bedroll. “Can you stay silent now? I want to sleep.”

Jaskier tightens his lips, upset. “I can shut up if needed. If my chatters bother you so much you can just say so!”

“They bother me. Now I have to sleep. Shut up.”

Jaskier doesn't say anything anymore.

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

link to ao3 in the reblogs!

[kswhateverspace]

The Ruby and Christina Discord Drama

To my followers who have no idea what this is about, feel free to ignore this if you’d like. This is a long post showing everything that went down with the kicking of 3 members in a discord I’m a member and Admin of. I will share a bit, and then the rest will be under a cut. 

Jaye (hernameisjaye/ @reneesgoldsberry​) and I didn’t feel it necessary to address the kicks of the server publicly and just thought things would die down and people would move on. That doesn’t seem to be the case and so while I don’t want to give any attention to Krow (grimreich666), the continued attack of Dandybear has made this post necessary. On December 9th, 2020, 1 member was kicked from the discord. Michele (kerozenangel). She was kicked specifically because of this post she made

It was incredibly rude to all the writers in the discord and also @/everyone about it. The removal at this time was specifically to protect the mental well being of the writers who occupied the discord. In addition, for being continually antagonistic in discussions with other members.

Jaye and I are not big on public warnings in regards to someone’s character and the way one thinks. The only thing we correct is off topic discussion and only if it gets out of hand. Behind the scenes we talk a lot if certain members are acting up, and mentally keep track on how many instances are occurring, if behavior seems to be improving etc. You don’t see it, but when issues arise it is discussed, usually in length, and then we decide how to proceed. We also don’t publicly report when a complaint is sent to one of us about a member, but we have been sent them and they are taken into consideration.

On December 11th 2020, 2 members were kicked from the discord. Krow (grimreich666) and RVCBard (eshusplayground)

There is quite a bit to unpack here, but I am first going to address the tumblr post Krow made. I never planned on replying, just letting it go. But Krow continues to antagonize a member (dandybear) of the discord who had NO involvement in her removal from the Discord and it’s time all sides are put out for those who are not aware, or those who don’t have the full story to judge. I will be addressing the youtube video at the very end of this post.

I’m going to address the tumblr post in question in sections.

“So it has come to my attention that we cannot have a civil conversation in the Ruby and Chirstina Fandom. Nearly a month ago I gave up my own small Ruby and Chirstina Discord to join another manged by Kswhateverspace.”

Civil discussions are had all the time, what occurred began as a civil discussion until Krow made it personal by telling Jaye to learn her own black history. That was the reason for the kick. Personal attack. I will post screenshots of the entire encounter at the end. As for managed by me, I am just an admin, and did not start out that way. I offered to help organize the discord and tried to create events to make things a bit easier to navigate and more fun. I originally invited Krow to this discord after seeing people asking for links on tumblr to it.

No one was asked to give up any server, it was simply an open invitation.

“I thought that the community would be a good place to vibe with other members of the Ruby and Chirstina community. At first it was welcoming until I started writing my own Fan Fic for the Ruby and Chirstina ship. It had been users by the name of Dandybear and Agent Sheryl and a few others started to bury the work I posted and they would shade me, barely would I get comments on my work because they would fill the submission page with there personal conversations.Now I’ve written two novels professionally and I am working on a third and out of my 15 years of writing I can safely assess when somebody is trying to blackball or bury someone’s work because there work isn’t meeting up to snuff. And as for me I always supported their work because Christina and Ruby content benefits everyone, now I didn’t get into AO3 for the comments I did it because I love Chrisby.”

This is completely not true. There is a channel I created dedicated to posting work only, exactly to prevent the burying of work. Krow would actually break the rule from time to time of that channel, which is that it’s for links to works only, not discussion of said works. There is a separate channel to discuss. Despite the breaking of the rule, I never actually removed her creator role and instead just let it slide. Also, “Shading” never occurred.

“Yet it was only a week ago that me and a few others we noticed the mean girls clique right away as it consisted of Danybear, Frankie, Kswhateverspace and Agent Sheryl, who had came from my server to join.”

I want to address this on a personal level. I have literally spoken to Krow on a voice call, for 2 hours, with Frankie also in attendance, as well as Agent Sheryl. We had been doing the drop a random pin on the map game and it was a pretty fun time. Prior to this instance, I didn’t have the most favorable view of Krow as she tended to not have a filter when posting and I wasn’t always comfortable by what that was, however, I take my role as admin seriously, and in particular being a white woman in a predominantly black server, I never wished to step on anyone’s toes or out of line. Any worries or concerns I ever had or have, I always defer and clear with Jaye. After this game, I became more comfortable in general with her presence in the discord, but she continued to post fairly unfiltered views that would generally derail a discussion etc. and overall behavior within the discord did not make for a very comfortable place a lot of the time. I say this as myself, and from fellow members at the time of instances. I was at war with myself on this a lot of the time because I was the one who invited Krow, but no one can predict how people will be or mesh.

At this part of the post I will address Krow’s accusation that Dandybear “shaded her”. The screencap Krow uses at the end of her post.

In case it isn’t clear, You is a tv show and not literally @ Krow in case that’s what was thought.

“The egregious abuse of power there Admin and Owner Hernameisjaye is sickening; as her rampage all started on Thursday when Jaye went on a rant saying that Christina was racist. And to me and another black female members acknowledged her opinion but we disagreed with it as we had watched the show several times and understood the premise of the timeline within the Jim Crow Era. Not wanting to fight we had calmly stated our disagreement to her baseless claim and yet she still would not let up even after we have both took the high road as mature adults to leave the conversation.”

I will let screenshots of the entire discussion speak for themselves. I will preface the screenshots with the rules of the discord, which were last edited on December first.

I’ll speak on rule 6 here.

“In the event that we decide to kick/ban a specific user, that individual will receive a message from the admin team notifying them of the final decision.”

At then end of the day, Jaye and I decided to not inform those who were kicked the reason. It wouldn’t have changed the result and in all honesty, we were tired. If an issue wants to be taken up with that, it’s valid. However, no result would’ve been undone.

In most channels on the server, there are pinned messages about what a channel is for as well. This channel was always intended to be a difficult discussion channel, and those that enter are agreeing to engage in difficult discussions as it relates to the show. Krow broke rule 2 by making it personal. You can see the whole chain below. As for RVC, she made it clear she was no longer comfortable in the server and didn’t trust the admins, and decided to turn a situation that didn’t directly involve her to be about her.

After this, RVCBard was kicked. Throughout the life of the discord RVC was consistently combative and antagonistic towards members who’s views or opinions she didn’t agree with. Or if someone disagreed with her. It was an issue that would flare up often, but looked past because we wanted the server to be inclusive even at the detriment to the overall health of the server. We received multiple complaints from different members about RVC with the average complaint being that she made the user uncomfortable due to her approach to different discussions in varying channels. All of the above was taken into consideration that night, and was essentially the final straw.

And despite not being comfortable with approaching mods, she sent me the following after all this went down.

For clarification, I was not present at the time and woke up to multiple messages and had to catch up on my own. 

In the past, RVCBard had contacted me with an issue she saw in the server.

I talked it over with Jaye, and it was decided thirsting channels would be created to help address the problem. I show this as an example of good faith that when issues are brought to our attention, we look into it and do something about it if we’re able.

“It wasn’t long ago nearly 48 hours after I lost a family member that was dear to me that this mess ensued, I didnt carry my personal issues into conversation as I enjoy Christina and Ruby as a get away. Yet it is damn near sickening how an Admin can kick someone without warning because your losing an arguement. This isn’t an after-school special and it’s sad that this show that delivers it’s take on Black History and pain cannot be understood even by the simplest of minds, as they are too busy oversexualizing and insulting the Ruby and Chirstina Ship to understand that we see Christina and her flaws as well. I own 2 Discords myself and NEVER would I go out my way to make somebody feel uncomfortable like the way they did me.”

I was offline and asleep for the majority of this night. And this was the reaction to the news of her family member.

While the loss of her family member is tragic, and I sympathize with the loss, it is not a free pass. The kick happened because of hostility and personal attack. With a history of problematic behavior.

I wish to highlight this part from that paragraph

“as they are too busy oversexualizing and insulting the Ruby and Chirstina Ship”

I honestly have no idea who this is supposed to even be at. The entire discord is dedicated to Ruby and Christina. Oversexualizing? Really? Acknowledging Christina’s racism, in whatever form it presented itself in, is in fact seeing Christina and her flaws.

It is at this point I’d like to share the message Krow sent me after her removal and my response.

Now onto the video that was posted Jan 1st, 2021 that has resparked the drama. Which, the video is actually the worst offense done so far. I will address particularly awful points with timestamps that you can reference for yourself. Credit to @femeivor​ for helping with grabbing timestamps as I’ve stayed up incredibly late writing this all up.

To highlight the targeting that is going on in this video, I would first like to present the controversy surrounding LITTD chapter 5. Dandybear upon receiving valid criticism of her story replied with the following, which Krow decided to piggyback on.

With that shown, let's get onto the video titled “Dear AO3 Fanfic Writers”

1:41 - "there was this whole thing where they couldn't have a mature conversation as adults and decided to kick me and several other group members out for not feeling that way"

- If you’ve made it this far, you know how exaggerated this is.

2:10 - Says a couple of writers from the server are "abyssmal and you know it comes from their fucking area"

- Spoiler alert, at the end of this video she says her discord is a place to not be judged.

6:54 - huge rant about people having Christina be William in their fics even though that's canon compliant

- For this I shall simply copy and paste her own fic’s summary:

- When Ruby get's the chance of a lifetime to change her life working under Tic's strange yet introvert distant cousin Christina, she gets more than she bargained for. As Christina a well known lawyer struggles to free herself from her fathers abusive shadow after the death of her brother William and her elder brother Caleb; she seeks to gain control over the lodge her father has denied her as his only heir. Yet first Christina must clear her father and lodge members names a task that seems all to impossible under the watchful eye of her fathers righthand-man; yet such a task is proving itself to be difficult as she is taken by her new P.A. As Ruby finds out how to read the strange yet alluring Christina, a waiting William comes to make her dreams come true yet are all dreams true; yet she is sucked into into a world of wizards and dangerous turns. Can love come at such a time, or will the half-truths threaten to rip the two apart?

- I will also add here my OWN comment on said story

https://archiveofourown.org/comments/357964615

8:00 - straight up calling out Davenports, just not by name.

8:30 - says it's "disgusting" to have Christina spend a lot of time as William which is, again, canon compliant

11:00 - calls some fanfics "crap" and "torture porn for the soul"

11:14 - "I'm not trying to stifle creativity!"

- *stares into the camera like I’m in the Office *

11:33 - calls out a fic for including attempted rape when she has previously praised a fic that included CSA

11:50 - "you don't really understand these characters, you don't really understand her at all"

- Christina is not given some EPIC backstory in the show and literally no one knows that much about her. Only what we can perceive and deduce. Aka, tons of headcanons from everyone.

13:00 - now telling people what they should be writing instead

13:34 - mockingly calling out Dandybear again, this time with more than one fic

14:10 - once again telling people what they should be writing

14:30 - mocking people for writing smut then says “I don’t caaare - I mean I like that - I love smut….is that it?”

14:55 - "and I notice that some of you guys start out so great in your fics and then it goes down hill!"

- Is this encouragement or stifling creativity?

15:13 - calling out another fic

- I’m tired, are you tired?

15:33 - "Who the fuck writes this shit? Oh my fucking god! Are you guys just dumb? Are you guys stupid?"

16:00 - "Some of you wanna tag and say 'this is a Ruby and Christina Discord server [mocking noises] and if you don't agree with us we're gonna kick you out for no fucking reason!' You know? Shut the fuck up!"

- And if you’re THIS far, you very well know the reason and it definitely wasn’t NONE

16:16 - "you obviously don't know what Ruby and Christina mean to real fucking die hard fans"

- I personally love a classic gatekeep.

17:06 - "But for some of y'all to write these disturbing, disgusting fanfictions"

17:54 - calling writers racist for including racist characters in their fanfics for a show that included a lot of racism.

18:41 - says people are wasting her time because they're writing fics that she doesn't want to read.

18:49 - "This isn't for all fanfic writers. This is only for a couple of 'em. You know who the fuck some of y'all are. And shame on you for even doing this and writing this and trying to fucking push this kind of fanfic and this garbage off."

- If you’re gonna keep beating a dead horse and bringing up drama that you created again and again, start saying people’s names instead of hiding behind blanket statements.

19:07 - "And that's the whole problem why I decided to do Krows Korner. Because I'm so sick of these fandoms and even some of these professional writers running their ass around here, delivering garbage and people being a bunch of sheeple to say that this shit is the greatest shit ever. Honey, it's either you have dyslexia or a reading complex because I'm not really fucking seeing what you thought was so great about this fic." 

20:20 - "Join my Discord server if you wanna know the full, TRUE story about what happened at the other Discord server and how these people supposedly claim that they love Ruby and Christina but they support a racist fanfic writer who clearly does not understand about black relations, but lies and decides to be a dick every-damn-where"

- The clearest target at Dandybear herself is in this rant here. Which you can recall above from the screenshots I posted, that when confronted with valid criticism, aims to do better because we all have room for growth. Including racists characters can always be tough because they are uncomfortable characters as they are meant to be, but run the possibility of being too much. However they are not a direct reflection of an author’s view.

20:52 - "If you wanna join a fandom on Discord that doesn't judge you for liking what you like as Ruby and Christina, and even if we disagree, you know, still not have fear of being kicked out because you disagree, come join my shit. It's not even worth the headache, sweetie."

- Interesting take after making a whole video attacking writers/people you hate from your previous discord after you were removed for breaking rules aka personal attack. “doesn't judge you for liking what you like”

21:30 - "I don't care any fucking more. The drama is done, it's settled"

- Considering you have brought this drama up again, after your removal on the 11th of December 2020, I think you might still care.

21:33 - "I figure I would clear a record, basically, to what happened. And, you know, signify the issue that these motherfuckers is crazy. They're crazy as hell."

Everyone at the server had moved on and enjoyed the holidays, but this video has reopened a closed case due to the clear targeting of a writer who happens to be popular. Almost this whole video is an entire disguised attack towards her.

I sincerely hope this clears the air on everything that happened and continues to happen. You have the full story and can judge for yourself whether or not the kicks were justified. If you feel they weren’t, that’s fine and you can now join a new discord server of more like minded people. This continued targeting of Dandybear is unacceptable, and those of you in contact with Krow should not be allowing this to continue. Dandy is a real person like all of us, and if you have a valid criticism of her fic, you can do it in a rational manner. Or stop reading. Like every person ever has done in every fandom ever. Dandybear had no involvement whatsoever with the kicks of the server, they are simply a member and a writer in the fandom and this has gone too far.

If you feel like this server isn't the place for you anymore, I encourage you to find a new place to express yourself in the best way you'd like. We all came here to love Ruby and Christina and have a place to do so in an organized fashion. If you don't like the rules, or consider this place unsafe, I hope you find a community that aligns more with your interests and world view.

[theoriginalladya]

Dragon Age II - Meghan Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Sebastian Vael *ears perked* *grabby hands* :D for your WIP folders?

Hehehehe   Thought that might get your attention! :)

Okay, so let me start with Meghan and Nate.  Meghan is the only Hawke I’ve ever played (dual wielding rogue).  I ended up playing her twice because on my first playthrough (romanced Fenris) the save I tried to import didn’t work, but I didn’t discover it until Alistair showed up and I knew that language I needed to hear, and I didn’t.  Okay, not so bad.  So I reimported it, it took this time, and I romanced Sebastian second time through in the game.  Great - now I have some baseline on both of those romances.  

That said, I already knew Meghan wasn’t going to be with either of them in her story - she ends up with Nathaniel Howe who she meets when he is still a squire for his lord in the Free Marches.  In fact, they meet in Kirkwall as he is waiting on the ship that will take him back to Ferelden.

Going to put under a cut because this got long really fast! lol

(And I do not vouch for any of this as I first wrote it about six years ago, possibly longer! lol  I’ve certainly learned a LOT more about writing since then, so these will inevitably get cleaned up before I think of posting them in future)

Deep in thought, Meghan left the table and returned to the bar.  She waited to be served another and was considering looking to round up a game of Wicked Grace to entertain herself with when she was unexpectedly and quite rudely hit in the back.  The move shoved her belly first into the bar counter, and the edge caught her just beneath the ribcage.  “Ooof!” Her breath was forced out of her lungs, and for the briefest of moments, Meghan thought she saw stars ….

“Maker’s breath, are you alright?”

Blinking back pain and trying to suck in enough air to breathe let alone reply, Meghan coughed harshly and finally resorted to nodding.  Her vision wasn’t quite back to normal yet, but a strong hand at her back pounded a few times in an offer of help -- help?  How does this help?  

Almost as if he sensed her thoughts, the hand grasped firmly at her shoulder and he guided her to sit on a nearby bench.  She recognized that it was a he, despite still being doubled over from pain.  His voice had that soothing baritone feel to it, very similar to the voice her father once had.  

Once seated, he left her side, returning a half moment later.  He dropped a tankard on the table beside her with a not so gentle thud and both he and she ignored the suds and ale that sloshed over the side, dripping down to form a ring around the vessel.  “I must apologize,” he told her, dropping to a knee in front of her to bring them to eye level.  

Meghan lifted her head, still searching for enough breath with which to speak, when she met cool, steely grey-blue eyes.  Blinking, her mouth worked again, but still nothing escaped that even remotely resembled words.  At best, a rough grunt slipped past.  His eyes narrowed in concern and he moved to her left as if to pound on her back again.

Meghan reacted instantly.  Straightening, she lifted her hand, warding off his actions, and finally drew in a deep breath.  “No, thank you!” she rasped.  She pulled in another immediately following, and then another.  Absently, she rubbed at her ribs where they’d hit the counter. “I’m … good.”

“Are you certain?” he asked.  The look of concern on his face didn’t fade.  If anything, Meghan noticed, his brow seemed to furrow more deeply.  “I would hate to think that I --”

She managed a lopsided smile, waving her hand back and forth between them.  “I’ll be fine,” she promised, this time with better vocal projection even if it was still rough around the edges.  “What -- what happened?”

He grimaced. Glancing around, he pointed towards a mild brawl taking place that was now moved onto the far side of the tavern. “I guess I walked into the middle of something.”

Meghan’s eyes followed his direction and she spotted a pair of vaguely familiar faces in the center of the tussle.  Sighing, she shook her head.  “Willis and Farlan are always in the middle of some ruckus,” she assured him.  Her voice was stronger now and she straightened further.  Reaching for the tankard, she took a careful drink.  Tilting her head slightly to the side, she observed, “You aren’t from these parts, are you?”

The concern finally eased from his face, but Meghan wouldn’t say it softened his features at all. Dark hair, light eyes, and eagle like features even down to his unfortunately large ‘beak’.  Still, he wasn’t entirely unattractive, and Meghan had to admit the caramel smoothness of his voice more than made up for any perceived deficiencies so far.  

“I’m not, no,” he agreed.  Rising, he took a seat on the bench next to her, his eyes drifting to follow the activities across the room.  “My name is Nathaniel Howe.  I’m a squire for Ser Rodolphe Varley.”

Meghan frowned, searching her memory for any information on that name.  She’d heard it a time or two, but had no first hand knowledge. At the same time, something about Nathaniel dropped into place for her.  “You aren’t from the Free Marches, are you?”  When he looked startled, she smiled.  “Your accent -- Ferelden?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I’ve worked hard to disguise it,” he admitted, “and thought I’d made progress.  Obviously, I was mistaken.”

Dropping into the Fereldan tongue, Meghan gave him a sassy grin and extended her hand. “Meghan Hawke, lately of Lothering. My family and I fled to Kirkwall when the Blight started.”

“Lothering?” His look of astonishment faded into a half smile of amusement.  “Your accent, on the other hand, is quite good.”

“My parents were originally from Kirkwall,” she explained.  “They moved to Lothering before I was born.”  She took a healthier swallow of her ale.  “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked after a moment.  

Nathaniel chuckled softly and shook his head.  “It is I who should be buying you one, I think,” he told her.  

Meghan jumped to her feet, only the slightest of tightening at the corner of her eyes indicating any residual pain left from her injuries.  “Nope.  This round is on me.”  She left him before he could protest, returning a couple of minutes later.  Handing him the tankard while regaining her seat, she reached for her own and lifted it to clink against his.  “We Fereldens have to stick together.”

Now, let me tell you a bit about Sebastian in this world.  I adore Sebastian, good parts, bad parts and all the in between.  I’ve always thought he got the short end of the stick on some things too, and I wanted to include him more predominantly in this series of fics, so I’ve sort of broadened his horizons, so to speak.  

Now the clip i’m going to share technically is a part of Serafina and Alistair after the Blight, but it happens in Kirkwall (long story there, too), so I sort of wedged it in on this side of things to make it easier to find in my notes.  You see, he and Serafina met years ago when she is visiting Orlais.  Neither has seen each other since then - about five years previous to this moment.  This is how they bump into one another after all that time...

Their path took them into an open courtyard and for a moment, Serafina’s steps slowed.  

“Did we take a wrong turn?” Alistair asked, his eyes searching the area.  

“I think we must have,” she replied.  “Oh, wait. There’s the Chantry.”  She pointed across the way.  “I think we need to head that way.”  Her hand drifted to a stairwell to the right of the building.  

Alistair’s eyes lifted to view the large building looming over the city.  “You know,” he mused in a tone only she could hear, “I’ve always heard how the people of Hightown think themselves above those in Lowtown, but I didn’t think it was so literal.”

“Hmm?”  Serafina glanced around.  Smiling gently, she nudged him in the arm.  “There is a lot of history here,” she agreed, “but most people tend to forget the simple yet more important aspects of it.”

“Oh?  What do you mean?”  He stopped walking, pulling her over to the center of the courtyard near the Chantry Board.  

Casually, she pointed to the exits to the immediate area.  “What do you see?” she challenged.

Alistair blinked. “Stairs?”

Serafina nodded. “Where do they lead?”

He frowned. “Down?”  

She nodded again and waited, her eyes meeting his.

“To … Lowtown … Oh!” Blinking, Alistair tilted his head to his right.  “Stairs lead up and down.”

“Exactly.  They might find themselves above those whom they think they are better, and their history certainly provides enough reminders that even the bloodiest of battles have not reached these heights,” she pointed out, “but the fact remains that when that happens, they are still stuck. Those stairs are their only way out. If a siege can be held long enough, they have no means of escape.”

“Thankfully,” he muttered for her ears only, “Denerim isn’t set up the same way.”

“There is that,” she agreed.  Then, walking out into the middle of the square, she turned in a slow circle, eyes lifted and surveying the architecture and situation of the buildings surrounding them, “On the other hand, it’s difficult to argue that it isn’t a pretty view.”

“And clean,” Alistair interjected as his eyes followed her.  Granted, certain parts of Ferelden’s capital city were better tended than others.  He wondered how much that had to do with the Blight and civil war or simply because Cailan had been king.  His eyes fell back to her after a moment and he stiffened when he realized …  “Watch out, behind you!”

Serafina, eyes still on the buildings around them, stumbled as she stepped backwards into someone. She caught herself awkwardly, but didn’t quite lose her balance.  “I’m so sorry!”  A strong hand at her arm helped her maintain balance, and she dropped her eyes … to an unexpectedly handsome and familiar, if somewhat older, face from her past. Gasping, her own eyes widened.  “No!  It … it can’t be!” she breathed.  “Sebastian?”

Startled, the man released his hold on her and took a step backwards.  “I’m sorry.  Have we met?” he asked.

It was all Serafina could do to break her gaze from his.  When she did, her eyes trailed over the rest of him.  He stood before her, just as vibrantly muscular and male as she remembered, now dressed in armor that clearly had Chantry’s influence in the design.  That, perhaps, answered a question.  However, some things remained the same.  The blue of his eyes.  The velvety roll of his voice and the soft burr as he spoke ….  

It stung a little that he didn’t recall without some prompting, but considering the circumstances that led to that night, it wasn’t much of a surprise.  “Five years ago in Val Royeaux,” she murmured quietly.  “There was a masquerade and …”

Recognition hit him instantly and he took another quick step backwards from her.  “You!” he gasped, face paling with shock.  

She nodded slowly but remained where she was.  She didn’t realize Alistair had joined her until his voice, quiet but urgent in his concern for her, penetrated through the fog of surprise.  “Are you alright?”

[autumnblogs]

Day 51: Estrangement from The Self

https://homestuck.com/story/5935

I didn’t really take Terezi’s problem with Faygo seriously the first couple times reading Homestuck, but in terms of the way that Homestuck’s different characters mirror each other, and the Trolls’ bizarre alien problems are used to directly comment on human problems, I think it makes sense to say that Terezi’s Soda Abuse should be taken exactly as seriously as Rose’s alcohol abuse.

Rose and Terezi only interact a handful of times, which is a shame, because on a certain level, they share the same basic problem; a lack of faith in the people around them combined with a crippling lack of self-worth. Though they both have strong narcissistic tendencies, Rose and Terezi display over and over again a desperate need for affirmation, and when they can’t get it from their peers, they seek it from other sources; Terezi’s manipulation by Aranea, in this sense, is parallel to Scratch’s manipulation of Rose in terms of the motivation of the one being manipulated.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/5936

(More indication that being on the God Tiers literally elevates characters to exist more on the narrative layer than they did before.)

https://homestuck.com/story/5937

In theory, I want the story to reward Dave’s newfound aloof optimism, but I think he’s still like... going too far in the other direction from where he started. We know he’s been questioning his relationship to Bro’s weird ideology, and he’s clearly less interested in being a Hero than he “should be” - but he’s still coping with his emotions mostly just by not acknowledging them.

He’s in for a rude awakening when he gets to the new session.

I should note that like, while Karkat and Dave’s friendship develops into a romance instead of into a platonic bromance after the reset, I don’t think we’re given much of an indication that their actual dynamic is all that different aside from being more physical.

https://homestuck.com/story/5944

Davesprite’s story is parallel with Dave’s, and as I’ve probably already said, forms a core part of Homestuck’s narrative about the distributed nature of the self, and the way that we can’t ever really know ourselves perfectly.

There are the literal material distributed selves like Davesprite, or sometimes Brain Ghost Dirk, or all the various versions of a character from other points along their own timeline, or from Doomed Timelines.

Anything we learn about Davesprite helps us to learn more about Dave. Anything we learn about Lil Hal helps us to learn about Dirk.

If Homestuck is about alienation, estrangement, then through characters like Davesprite, and Lil Hal, we learn that these people are not only estranged from each other by time and space, they are even estranged from themselves by the partitions in their own head, and by the way in which they are observed by other people, and form idealized versions of themselves to aspire to that they can never be. Other better versions of themselves exist in other timelines, and two different versions of a character both wish that they were the other.

Paul Tillich, a French existentialist philosopher and theologian talks about the idea of estrangement from the self as being rooted in the same problem that estranges us from others in his essay You are Accepted.

Maybe that’s another thing that I need to write about. I shall probably do so once we get to Davepeta’s talk about the Ultimate Self. (Did I already write a companion piece about it? Maybe I did.)

https://homestuck.com/story/5955

Okay; the plot has switched tracks, but the theme is very much still exactly what it was during Davesprite’s ramble. What is the significance of all of the alternate selves? In keeping with her very Dirk-like adherence to the idea that she is a certain person who is a certain way, and needs to be who she is, Vriska’s conception of all the alternate selves is that they are meaningless and have no signifiance.

I think it’s telling that we don’t really see any alternate Vriskas in this undead army.

https://homestuck.com/story/5957

While this seems extremely obvious to me anyway, it’s worth pointing out that Meenah alludes to the reason why The Condesce has latched onto Jane in pretty much exact words.

She yearns to have an Heiress, someone that she can teach her badass ways. In short, Meenah wants the same thing that Dirk wants - she wants ideological offspring!

https://homestuck.com/story/5961

I think with Andrew’s stated disdain for Worldbuilding (don’t quote me on that; I’m just pretty sure he said it once, and the fact that his villains are the characters who engage in long-winded worldbuilding screeds is suggestive of this as well), this is another way in which He is Fucking With Us.

The worldbuilding gives us symbols we can use to think about the themes the rest of the comic addresses, but broadly speaking, it’s not actually all that consequential.

https://homestuck.com/story/5966

Aranea continues to use language suggesting that she views the universe very much like a single organism - it’s an interesting quirk of hers.

https://homestuck.com/story/5982

As we come up on the conclusion of Disk 2, Aranea’s monologuing definitely recalls Scratch’s monologuing. (And of course, the journal entries from Mindfang before that).

The background information here is definitely relevant for one thing; helping us to understand the emotional background of the characters.

https://homestuck.com/story/5986

Long isolation and hardened pursuit of justice sounds like a certain mail-lady.

https://homestuck.com/story/5997

As in her initial conversation with Terezi, Aranea calls attention to the somewhat “fake” nature of Choice, and libertarian free will as it is often conceived of. It would not be in keeping with Caliborn’s character for him to choose the other option; just as it would seemingly not be in keeping with Vriska’s character for her to abandon her pursuit of power.

https://homestuck.com/story/6017

Terezi’s black and white worldview - her view of acts as good and evil, and her view of people as either good or evil - makes her completely incapable of coping with the shame of her bad decisions. Terezi doesn’t know how to forgive, or what forgiveness looks like - she does not know how to bridge the gap between herself and someone else once they are estranged. She has never been able to forgive Vriska. And she certainly can’t forgive herself. Not for getting into a relationship with Gamzee. Not for becoming addicted to Faygo. Not for repairing her vision. And certainly not for killing Vriska.

https://homestuck.com/story/6020

And Karkat brings it around again to the ongoing conversation about the ways characters are estranged from themselves.

https://homestuck.com/story/6043

Tavros’s single emotional triumph in pretty much the entire story.

He finally ditches his abusive girlfriend, and stops putting up with her.

Ironically, being tolerated in their wickedness is probably the last thing people need when they’re involved with it.

Letting Vriska keep on abusing him is a disservice to both Tavros and Vriska.

Really, it’s best for both of them.

https://homestuck.com/story/6050

Vriska continues the pattern of shit-talking herself. She always vacillates between vastly inflated self-esteem, and complete dejection.

https://homestuck.com/story/6054

Vriska’s vastly inflated ego is part and parcel of her nature as a Thief of Light I think.

Because she doesn’t just think the world of herself in the sense of stealing everyone else’s meaning and relevance.

Vriska assigns all the responsibility in the world to herself. If she doesn’t act, or if she doesn’t, as far as Vriska is concerned, everything that comes to pass, comes to pass because she wills it, at least at the moment.

Vriska Serket is a Megalomaniac of the highest order; she conflates herself with Lord English. She conflates herself with God.

Vriska is as alienated from herself as anyone is, and it’s because she thinks she understands who she truly is, and considers living up to the ideal version of herself a matter of ultimate importance.

https://homestuck.com/story/6056

Kanaya’s intervention is parallel to Dave and Karkat’s.

https://homestuck.com/story/6065

Caliborn has graduated from having nothing but complete disdain for everyone who is not himself to having some use for other people, but even his camaraderie only extends to those who prove themselves useful to him; he makes a mockery of friendship, and his attempts at civility are signifiers as empty as his life is of the possibility of genuine benevolence.

https://homestuck.com/story/6071

Meenah’s emotional theatrics are as genuinely disheartening as they are darkly hilarious because, like Dirk, and like Vriska, Meenah is a Dangerous PersonTM; she views the violence she is capable of as being intrinsic in her nature, and something she basically is incapable of resisting. Like everyone else in the story, Meenah is basically uneasy with who she is, but only a handful of characters are like Meenah in that they are basically resigned to that uneasiness. Instead of doing the things Meenah wants to do, she does the things she does not want to do.

https://homestuck.com/story/6241

So here we are at the end of Disc 2, in the same basic predicament we were at the end of Disc 1.

Everyone is miserable. Everyone’s relationships have broken down all but completely.

Everyone is estranged from each other, and everyone is estranged from themselves, and if they think a cute little reunion is going to resolve all of the emotional problems that they have failed to confront over the past three years, they’re in for a rude awakening.

More tomorrow, as we start in on the final quarter of Homestuck.

See you tomorrow; Same Cam Time, Same Cam Channel

[anemonenemerosa]

The Spare - Chapter 11

And the story continues. This one is much less angsty. As always, a big thank you to @lumosinlove

Chapter 11

Regulus was woken by a heavy thud and someone swearing loudly. He was completely disoriented, his brain sluggish and not quite connecting what happened last night and how he ended up ...here. N’importe quoi… Whatever…

Blinking blearily, he spotted someone hopping on one leg, clutching their other foot in their hands, still generously swearing. Erm... He snorted at a remarkably colourful curse and the head of the girl, so it seemed, snapped up.

She looked him up and down through dark-rimmed glasses and the floppy top of her ashy-brown pixie-cut, presently sporting a rather impressive bed head, while gnawing her bottom-lip like Ben sometimes did.

"Sorry." But her barely concealed grin belied the soft mumbling. She wasn't so sorry.

He slowly began to comprehend what was amusing her. Regulus was sprawled on the couch, his feet tangling off one end, drool sticking to his cheek, half-entangled in the chicken-blanket and clad in a hideous shirt with cow pattern that barely covered his midriff. Short, he was the epitome of sophistication, grace and elegance. Ouais, enfin… c’est naze. Yeah, well... that sucks.

          He could feel himself turning beet red and sat up, violently scrubbing his cheek.

"Good morning, you want Tea?" she asks. Regulus nodded without listening to what he just agreed to. Maybe I won an Alpaca... Okay... I'm not awake yet. That is not an awake-Regulus thought.

While she turns to... get whatever he agreed to, he stood up and stretched in an attempt to wake up properly, feeling like he had barely slept at all. A glimpse on his phone confirmed his feeling: Half past five in the morning. He had about two and a half hours of sleep. He allowed himself his internal eyeroll, stretched again and winced, rubbing his stiff neck.

Then he took a look at the girl coming back from the kitchen with two steaming cups in her hands, a bottle of milk wedged between her upper arm and her ribcage and a paper bag of sugar pressed with her chin to her chest.

Regardless of the rather odd way of transporting stuff he notes that she is, no other way to say it, minuscule. Her shirt was reaching over her wide hips below mid-thigh and was most likely even smaller than the one he... clearly pulled off.

The girl -Josephine, he assumed- probably was around 5'2'' as she just reached the height of Regulus' shoulder, making him around a foot taller. How does she get to, like, half of the stuff in this room?

After briefly considering the height of Ben and Mateo, he wondered whether the door to the flat was a portal to the shire and he was now surrounded by friendly hobbits. Definitely mad. He snorted again. Since when did he even do this?

Jo dropped her cargo on the living room table without spilling anything, plopped down the couch and busied herself with the tea. When he settled down beside her, a cup was pressed into his hand while she poured milk into her own, gesturing for him to help himself. Concerning tea, Regulus had always been a purist. A bit of Lemon was acceptable in Earl Grey and that's about it. He eyed her milky-tea. Wasn't she british? Païenne. Heathen.

"I'm Jo. I sort of live here. Had an OK night?" she asked, not facing him.

"No" Regulus sore neck began to give him a tension headache and rubbing at it did not help at all.

At first, she just huffed at his deadpan answer but then looked up at him and he got a first look of her face. She was as pale as her brother, her face slim with a gentle jawline and high but not overexaggerated cheekbones. Her eyes were framed with very dark lashes, a dark blue borderlining green with hazel flecks around her Pupils similar to her brothers but also very different, open and sparkling, the bridge of her slightly broad button nose was sprinkled with pale freckles and the tip sported a silver septum-ring. Her full lips were currently being gnawed at, paired with a raised eyebrow. This soft and expressive face was about as different from his mother’s as possible and Regulus' stomach gave an undignified churn.

"Quoi?", he was suddenly very irritated, "I had about two hours of sleep and my brain is pounding through my skull! I have no nerve for idle chatter and polite exchange of pleasantries."

Jo gave him a second glance, put both their mugs at the table and sat down on top of the back of the couch, directly behind Regulus.

"What-" he started again but was curtly interrupted "Oh bloody hell, belt up!" What?!

"I am not nearly as socially gifted as the other two himbos. I do not beat around the bush, I do not small talk, I was a nice and considerate host, offered tea and stuff although I prefer my mornings calm and solitary. I do not have the patience to deal with snappy dudes on my couch so hold still. I'm gonna fix your neck and we try again." So, bullying people into feeling better runs in the family...

  That said, she pulled his shoulders back so that he was sitting straight and began carefully kneading his neck up to his hairline. I hurt. A lot, but somehow her hands tingled on his skin in a completely irrational matter. Then, Jos hands reached up to the base of his skull and her thumbs very precisely and firmly pressed on two rather sensitive spots he didn’t even know were there. Regulus gasped and tensed up.

"I know, but it gets better soon. Ben used to twist his neck all the time. I know what I’m doing." her voice was much softer now. Then, she pressed into similar tender spots on his shoulders and shuffled back to sit beside him.

"Better?"

He took a few breaths to realise that, indeed, the pain was almost gone. "Yes."

"Nice. Shall we have a civil and less snappy conversation now?" It came over rather rude but there was a smirk in her eyes and a corner of a lip was twitching slightly.

"Why are you even awake now?" Regulus mumbled after sitting in silence for a while.

"Just am. I've always been an early riser and as resident introvert I do genuinely enjoy mornings on my own to prepare for a day full of dealing with people and have other exasperating encounters."

Regulus turned his head towards her. "Are you always this plain about things?"

By now, Jo had tucked herself in the corner of the couch, sitting cross-legged and playing with a hole in her sock.

"As I told you, I do not beat around the bush. I mean, I am capable of cordiality but interaction with people is bound to lead to miscommunication. Why make it worse by hidden meanings, hinting on things or even expecting that the other one is a mind reader... People are hard work as is; Many of them are daft, stubborn or worse, both. I prefer to keep strangers at an arm’s length."

Instead of a witty remark, Regulus gave an embarrassing little chuckle. How very eloquent... He liked her view on society. "You are a little overdramatic now, don’t you think? Besides, you just gave me a neck massage. That was closer than an arm’s length."

"No and no." He risked a side glace at her, caught a short smirk and smiled into his tea, realised what he was doing and gave an internal admonishing glare at his composure.

"I suspect you know the difference between literally and metaphorically, too. So m'just gonna continue in the belief you're shitting with me. Here you go with the literal answer: The massage was self-preservation. You're an unbearable little git when in pain."

Regulus raised his eyebrows in a mock expression and leaned in the opposite corner of the couch "I see. Am I now of decent demeanour, your grace?"

"Surprisingly tolerable." She returned the with a smirk.

They bantered and talked about random stuff (A great amount of time was put into determining the best Disc World Series – Truce between Ankh-Morpok City Watch and Death) for what felt like hours and seconds at the same time. Regulus profession was not even part of the conversation and he didn't think he had ever talked for so long with someone without getting to hockey and the mess that came with the name Black, eventually.

He felt strangely at ease here, catching himself paying less attention to his meticulously established guard. He barely scanned Jos words for hidden implications or concealed prying, like he was so used to do. It became so much second nature to him that, until now, he didn't even realise how exhausting this habit was.

What the hell? Reg asked himself not for the first time since meeting Ben in the rink-showers and he was starting to freak out a little.

After an uncommonly long silence he noticed Jo looking at him again while gnawing her lips. It seemed to be a giveaway that she's about to ask something uncomfortable.

"Reg?" The use of the pet-name felt like a slap. He should really tell them to stop this.

"How do you know my name?" Apparently, Regulus was still not used to being known.

"The note this morning only read: The guy on the Couch is Reg, be nice." Jo really tried to sound light-hearted.

Regulus was starting to get suspicious again. "Ah. What?"

"I do not want you to feel like shit so tell me if you do not want to answer: Why are you here?" Jo shiften unconftably in her corner.

"I do not want to answer." Regulus prepared himself for the inevitable interrogation.

"OK." Here we go… Wait.

"That’s it?"

"Sure, why would I pry?" The girl furrowed her brows while looking at him over the brim of her cup.

He felt strangely content until now, that he remembered why he was here and asked himself what these people actually wanted from him. The knot in his stomach was back with full force as he felt the waves of guilt washing over him.

He ruined his brother live and was sitting on a couch, drinking tea and joking around with strangers? He got up abruptly, plucked is clothes from the heating unit and changed quickly, not giving a flying fuck about giving the girl a prime view of his naked arse. Jo stood between him and the couch, her brows still furrowed.

"I need to go." With that he was out of the door and only just heard her calling

"Hey idiot, you can come back this evening if you want to" before the doors of the elevator closed. Smooth, Black. Real smooth.