#this feeling calls for everything that i am not

[nathaslosthershit]

Emotional Times (OP81)

Summary: Pregnancy was a time full of hardships. Hormones on high, stress of the incoming baby, and all the sudden changes were what this father-to-be was expecting, ready to face. What he wasn't expecting was having to battle his pregnant wife's newfound sensitivity to everything that could have her emotions changing in an instant Part of my summer event!

It has been a rough time in the Piastri household. Oscar loves his wife, he really does, and god, would he move heaven and earth for her. In her current state though, she doesn’t know whether she wants heaven or earth and if he brings her the wrong one she will burst into tears, but if he brings her the right one, she will also burst into tears.

There wasn’t any winning. During moments like that, he just had to remember that greener grass on the other side. The other side where he finally has his own little family. 

The couple had also both made peace with the fact he would be traveling a lot during the season and she would have to spend some of her pregnancy by herself. It was easy while she could travel in the beginning but a few complications cut her ability to do so off much sooner than the two would have liked. And she did not like this. 

“Honey, please, get back in bed.” Oscar begged at 5 am. He was ready to head off to his next race, when he unintentionally woke his very pregnant wife up after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

This made her frustrated, she had finally gone to sleep after spending so much of the night tossing and trying to turn and the minute she drifts off he has the audacity to-

Then she realized he kissed her on the forehead because he was leaving her. 

Now, she was holding onto him by the front door, in absolute tears at the thought she would have to do another race weekend alone.

“Please, my love. It absolutely breaks my heart to leave you but I have no choice. Don’t make this harder for me…” Oscar tried to reason with her, but he was on the brink of tears himself seeing how much she wanted him to stay, realizing how much he wanted to stay. But he couldn’t.

“Oscar, I can’t do it, please it's so hard being here all alone. I know it's cliché but I can’t even tie my shoes. How am I supposed to do anything? How am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can’t take care of myself?”

He knew she wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying or make him feel bad if he did leave. These were real concerns she had voiced before. But he felt so helpless in this moment, almost as helpless as she felt constantly. 

The realization hit him, he couldn’t leave her like this. It was unfair to both of them. He had to do something.

“I will figure something out, don’t worry, Honey. Go back to sleep and when you wake up it will be much better, I promise.” He really shouldn’t promise that when he didn’t have a plan, but he couldn’t come up with one while she was sobbing into his neck and holding on for dear life.

With a few hiccups and a small nod, he wiped her tears and gave her a kiss as he left the apartment. 45 minutes later than he would have liked, hopefully the group he was sharing the jet with didn’t leave him behind. 

She already felt better when she woke up, having gotten hours of sleep, finally. It felt so good to wake up well rested and without that many aches. Nothing could bring her mood down.

Except when she couldn’t get in touch with her husband.

She knew he was traveling, that the minute his plane landed he was off to start preparing for the upcoming race. But no calls and no messages soured her mood real fast. 

She tried to shake it off, she went about her day trying not to dwell on it, trying not to send him threatening messages for not answering her the second she texted him. 

A call woke her up the next morning, well it was noon but she still wasn't pleased. Not till she saw who was calling.

“Oh sweetheart! How are you?” Nicole Piastri asked.

If there was one person she loved almost as much as her husband, it was his mother.

“I’m okay, haven’t heard from Oscar much, that asshole.” she grumbled.

“Oh I remember the days, that's why I have my twitter afterall.” Nicole said, making her laugh. It was sometimes a wonder how her husband was Nicole’s son. 

“Yeah well i-”

“Oh crap, honey, I have to go! But I’ll see you soon, okay? Hang tight!” Nicole said before hanging up.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the abrupt end to the call as a knock came from the front door. Connecting the two, she wobbled as fast as she could to the door, where her mother-in-law stood. 

And then she burst into tears.

“Oh, he told me you were going to do that but I didn’t know it would be that immediate,” Nicole said as she went to hug her. 

Through the tears and snot, she asked “Oscar? What do you mean?”

“He said he texted you, gosh, he is the worst at communication for someone who spends so much time on his phone,” she frowned at her daughter-in-law.

Quickly opening her texts, she saw he had messaged her a few hours ago:

Oscar: I told you I had a plan, just a few more hours, my love. I can’t wait to see you in a few days :) 

Thus the mother and daughter-in-law started their girls weekend. My god, it was exactly what she needed. As much as she loved her husband, this was 1000 times better than what she would have done if he was here. And despite how much she missed him, the weekend seemed to fly by. 

Oscar: How is she? I am only half an hour away.

Nicole: Currently napping, but she has been good! Relaxed and happy. Hasn’t even cried in the past few days

Oscar: Wow, I am almost offended she didn’t miss me more?

Nicole: She needed girl time, you couldn’t give that to her sweetheart. She also needed someone who actually knew how to correctly do laundry.

Oscar: Alright, mum, nice talking to you. I'll be back soon, please don’t turn my wife against me.

Nicole: 😉

Just as he did when he was leaving, Oscar unintentionally woke his pregnant wife up when kissing her on the forehead. Unlike when he was leaving, she didn’t get upset. She was too happy to see him that the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

Holding him in a death grip, she recounted all she did while he was gone. She couldn’t really go out much at this point, so hearing his mom still found a way to make her weekend enjoyable was a relief. 

“I haven’t even cried over something stupid in a while!” She said as she finished her account of the past few days.

“I heard, I am glad you are feeling so much better, my love. I hated being gone but hearing you had a wonderful time makes me so happy.” He said as he began to tear up, thinking about how awful it was to leave. 

“Oscar, come on, just cause i'm not as emotional doesn’t mean you have to make up for it” She teased.

After pestering him about how his time away was, he remembered he had picked up something for her, and while he bought it thinking he would use it to stop her tears, why not just give it to her while she is this happy.

“I picked up your favorite,” he said as he reluctantly handed her the food he got, shuddering at the unusual combination she loved oh so much.

The sound of her son gagging as he watched his wife eat had Nicole coming into the room to investigate. The picture of her pregnant daughter-in-law, happy as a clam while she ate her food, and her son holding his nose and trying to stop himself from throwing up was a sight she committed to memory and knew she was going to bring up for years to come. 

“What have you got there?” Nicole asked, knowingly making Oscar gag again as he was reminded of the food combination.

“Cottage cheese and ketchup,” she answered. Instead of disgust, the couple was confused by the light bulb moment Nicole seemed to have.

“My goodness! That is what I craved with Oscar. Gross to think about now but I loved it then.”

“What! You never told me this?” Oscar asked, astounded he would be the reason his mom had to eat a combination that disgusted him so.

“I was saving it for the next podcast I did. Think I’ll have to talk about this moment too.” His mom teased. 

Rolling his eyes, he turned to his wife and immediately clocked in on the frown beginning to form.

Both mother and son had the same exact thought: Uh oh.

“You- you craved the same thing?” She stuttered out.

“Um, yeah? You okay, Honey?” Nicole asked, now on edge at the incoming storm.

Seconds of silence went by but were soon disrupted by the sounds of his wife’s cries as she took in the information.

“Baby, what's wrong? Why are you upset at that?” Oscar questioned as he went to rub her back in comfort.

“Its just- that is so sweet, and the thought that- that I could be having the same cravings, is just- I just-” His wife didn’t get to finish her sentence as more wails came out, followed by hiccuping.  

Nicole and Oscar looked at each other in alarm as they realized that this was most likely the consequence of a weekend with no breakdowns. They had a long night ahead of them. 

[misctf]

Singing a New Tune

Written for Occam's 2000 Follower Writing Challenge

“Babe, I love you.”

Jared smiled down at Julie, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He had to imagine his girlfriend dreamed of this moment. A romantic kiss at a Tiffany Stabina concert as the star finished out her set with one of Julie’s favorite songs. A slow romantic song- one that Jared knew all too well from frequent replays in the car.  

“Anything for you babe.” He replied, holding her closely in his muscular arms, “I love you too.”

This certainly wasn’t his kind of music. And he didn’t understand the cult-like devotion to Tiffany. But seeing Julie this happy? Worth it. Still, he imagined the other straight dudes here were thinking similarly. In fact, he and the guy next to him shared several looks throughout the night. A silent comradery acknowledging they’d rather be elsewhere. And if they had been elsewhere, Jared would’ve asked the guy for his arm day routine.

“Alright babe, we ought to head out before...”

“To all my fans, I love you!” Tiffany called out, their cheers drowning Jared’s words, “You’ve all been with me from the beginning, and I am so grateful.” She placed a hand over her heart, “But you all know I’ve been criticized.” The fans all booed, “And they’ve come after you too.”

“A bit dramatic.” Jared chuckled, earning a glare from Julie.

“You wouldn’t get it.” She replied, “They go after he for everything.” The jock nodded, not wanting to risk ruining their perfect night, “But when she sings, it’s like she’s speaking directly to you. People just don’t get it.” Jared nodded. There were some things just not worth it.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but I have a new song for you all this evening!” The crowd erupted in screams and applause. Jared groaned, “They say I’m pandering? Then I’ll pander.” She continued, and the crowd got louder.

Jared knew there would be no way of getting Julie to leave now. And he silently dreaded the hours they’d be stuck in traffic. But as the song started and Tiffany’s words echoed through the stadium, his thoughts slowed.

“They say I only cater to a few.”

Jared felt lightheaded, the sound of the crowd growing distant.

“The gays and the girls, oh boo hoo.”

“Julie?” He whispered, but she didn’t respond, “Julie, please...” He felt sick. The world was spinning, everything becoming black, “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He whispered. He couldn’t move. Was he dying? Was this it?

“But I won’t back down, I won’t apologize.” Jared looked up and saw her. Tiffany Stabina. Standing in front of him, “For making them feel alive.” She strutted towards the helpless jock.

“What...? How is this...?”

“I see you dancing in the dark, feeling completely torn apart.” She sang.

Jared yelped as he felt a cool breeze caress him. And to his horror, he realized he was nude. Butt naked in front of Tiffany Stabina no less. She grinned and approached him, circling his nude figure and wrapping her arms around him.

“Embrace your uniqueness, don’t hide.”

Jared gasped as she placed pressure on his shoulders. He felt the floor getting closer as he lost inch after inch of height. He now stood at eye level with the 5’6” popstar.

“Wait? What did you do to me?” He yelped.

“Now let my music take you for a ride.”

She ran a hand along his muscular arms. Her very touch sent a wave of pleasure straight to his dick, and he blushed as all 10 inches stood at attention. Tiffany smirked, but continued rubbing his biceps and triceps. Her sensual touch was intoxicated, and Jared watched helplessly as his proud muscles started to diminish. His biceps atrophied, followed quickly by his triceps. His slender arms giving off the appearance they hadn’t seen a gym in years. He tried to cry out, but Tiffany placed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. He could only watch as her hands roamed his impressive pecs. He had always been proud of his pecs, and he loved when Julie rested her head on his chest. But now, he could only watch as they flattened away.

“Wait...” He was able to force out. But Tiffany was relentless, and her hands roamed down his abs.

He shed a few tears as his abs vanished, leaving him with a flat, slender tummy. There was no way this could be happening. It had to be some type of acid trip or something. Jared kept trying to reassure himself, even as she moved to his legs and quickly destroyed his muscular thighs and calves, leaving his legs slender and dainty. His feet followed, and quickly diminished from size 13s to 9.5s in mere seconds.

“My music is my contagion, unapologetic. Now we’re gonna collide.” Tiffany continued, this time wrapping her hands around his cock, “My fans are my tribe, I won’t divide.”

Jared felt like the wind was knocked out of him from both the pain and pleasure from her touch. And he watched as she shrunk his proud member. The young jock always knew he was well endowed. And he knew how to use it too. But as he watched his dick shrink from its proud ten inches to a mere 3 inches hard, he felt his confidence diminish.

“We’ll rise together, side by side.”

Her hands made their way to his flat ass. He tried to crane his neck to see what she was about to do. But he didn’t need to see. He could immediately feel his ass expand in her hands, filling them with firm, yet jiggly fat and muscle. He let out a moan as she caressed his basketball-sized ass cheeks, and he nearly came when she gave one a firm slap.

“Pl-please stop...” He begged as she placed a hand over his neck, “You can't do thith...” His voice cracked and he winced, “What’th happening to my voithe? Why do I thound like thith?” He begged, his voice cracking, “No, thith doethn't thound right.” His voice settled a few octaves higher, his masculine tone now lost forever.

“So bring on the hate, let the critics rage. We’ll keep on dancing, it’s time to turn the page.”

As she continued to caress his now slender body, and grind against him, he felt off. His dick  softened, as her physicality became less appealing to him. Her bouncing boobs and thick lips didn’t seem to do it for him. Even her touch was losing its pleasure. And he realized in terror what was occurring.

“No, not thith!” He begged, “Come on, come, think of thomething.” He remembered the BJ Julie gave him last night, and even the lesbian porn he watched a few days ago. But his measly member stayed soft, “No... pleathe...”

He felt Tiffany’s hand on his head. His pleading eyes met hers, and he knew he’d find no mercy. His hair restyled itself, and he felt a piercing pain in his left earlobe, which suddenly adourned a diamond stud. But her touch was doing far more than making a few style alterations. In his mind, his memories were shifting. Showering after football practice? Changing in the locker room after a lifting session with his bros? Watching football with his family?

“Oh god...” He moaned, as his small dick hardened and his ass throbbed with need.

He didn’t play football. He got fucked by the quarterback in the shower after a game. He wasn’t lifting at the gym. He was doing cardio and sucking off the gym bros between their sets. He didn’t watch sports like football. He just sat and scrolled on his phone, reading up on the latest Tiffany Stabina gossip and scrolling his socials. And as his new reality cemented itself, Jared’s eyes lost their intelligent spark and became half-lidded, his brain filling with celebrity gossip and how to please guys.

“This contagion’s here to stay, and we’ll celebrate it every day.”

She kissed him on the cheek. And with that, Jared was back. The cheers of the crowd filling his ears, as Tiffany thanked her fans and left the stage. Jared smiled.

“Oh my god! That wath tho amathing!” He cheered, “Tiffany! I love you!” He yelled, “It wath like Tiffany thpoke to me.”

“You felt that way too?” Jared turned and came face to face with a man of similar build. Albeit with slightly bigger arms, “Tiffany, like, totally thpeakth for uth.” He grinned as Jared felt up his arms.

“Wait!” A voice called out behind him, “Did you see the guy I came here with?” Julie asked, looking around desperately, “I swear, he was right here. I...”

“Thorry thithter, I hope you find him!” Jared replied, turning his attention back to the guy.

“Tho weird, thome poor girl athked me about her boyfriend too.” The man replied, “Probably got drunk and left to watch football.”

“OMG tho lame.” Jared laughed. The two smiled at one another, “Tho, like...”

“Wanna go back to my place? I have her latetht album.” The man winked, and Jared shuddered as his ass throbbed with need.

“That thounds delightful.” Jared replied, pulling the man in closer, his smile widening as the man squeezed his ass, “Oh! But like firtht I totally need a thelfie! I want everyone to know I thupport Tiffany and Tiffany thupports me!” He cheered, capturing their kiss on camera and posting it to his socials.

Later that night, Jared and his lover explored one another’s new bodies. Jared gasping at the size of his lover’s cock, moaning as he felt a firm hand squeeze his ass. His moans would continue to fill the room that night. With each thrust of his new lover’s dick, Jared was in heaven. Unaware of his former life or the horror it would bring his former self to see him like this. Just another horny slut- another gay twink dedicated to Tiffany Stabina.

[ameenafamily]

  Between the Ruins and Memories  🌊🏚️

On the shores of Gaza, where the horizon stretched endlessly, Khalil lived a life that seemed stable and secure. From his house overlooking the sea, he could hear the sound of crashing waves harmonizing with the sounds of the life he built through hard work and years of effort. 🏠💔 His studies in university as a sound engineer were a gateway to a promising future; his work in renting out large sound equipment used for parties and major events was his source of income, and the residential building he inherited from his father housed many families, ensuring a decent life for his own. 🎶🎤

But, in a single moment, everything changed. 🌪️

  Complete Destruction 🏚️💥

The war came like a storm, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake. The home that was considered a refuge for the family turned into rubble. The sound equipment that once spread joy throughout the city was silenced forever under the debris. The residential building, which was a continuous source of income, collapsed as if it had never existed.

Today, Khalil, along with his wife Omnia and their children Nasser, Adam, and Bara’a, live in a small tent in the southern sector, where there is no safety or stability. ⛺🔥 The tent offers no protection from the scorching heat of the day or the biting cold of the night. Hunger and thirst have become constant guests at their empty table, and the children’s eyes search their father’s face for answers: “When will we go back home?” 🥺🍽️ But the home is no longer there.

  Growing Despair 😔💔

Each passing day becomes harder than the last. Khalil feels the weight of responsibility crushing him, yet he has nothing to offer his family. Hunger gnaws at their health, and fear eats away at their souls. How can he tell his children that the life they knew is gone forever? How can he face their looks when they ask him about food, and he has little to give?

Omnia, his wife, stands beside him in this bitter struggle, but she, too, suffers in silence. She tries her best to soothe the children and reassure them, but deep down, she knows the future is uncertain and frightening. 👩‍👧‍👦🕊️

  A Faint Hope  ✨🌱

Yet Khalil does not give up. He refuses to succumb to pain, searching for a glimmer of hope in this darkness. He knows that there are those who may extend a helping hand and that despite all the hardships, there are still people who believe in humanity. But time is running out, and the tent cannot be home forever. ⏳💡

  A Call for Help 🙏💖

If you are able to help, please consider donating to support Khalil and his family during this difficult time. Every contribution, no matter how small, can make a real difference in their lives. Share this story with your friends and family, as it may reach someone who can help. Together, we can make a difference and restore hope to those who desperately need it. 🌍❤️

🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸

My camping vetted by @gazavetters 🌷

Link vetted number #19 on list

🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Sweet Defender

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: A quiet and shy Y/n, Max Verstappen's sweet-natured girlfriend, surprises everyone by fiercely defending him against his father's harsh criticism, revealing her hidden strength and deep love for Max.

________________________________________________________

You were sweet in a way that made people soften around you. There was a kindness in the way you carried yourself, from the way you greeted everyone in the garage with a small, warm smile to how you always remembered little details about their lives. You made people feel seen, even if you rarely said much.

The mechanics would tease Max about how lucky he was to have such a sweet girlfriend. “Max, how did someone like you end up with her?” they’d joke. And Max would grin, ruffling your hair playfully before pulling you into a side hug. He always said you were his calm amidst the storm, the one person who could make him feel grounded, no matter what was happening around him.

You blushed easily—whether from Max’s teasing, a compliment from someone in the paddock, or even just catching him looking at you from across the garage. You didn’t like drawing attention to yourself, preferring to be the quiet presence in Max’s life, always supporting him from the shadows.

In the world of Formula 1, where everything was fast-paced, high-stakes, and often brutally competitive, you were a breath of fresh air. You didn’t come to the races to be seen or to be part of the glamorous world of motorsport. You were there because Max was there, and you cared deeply about him.

Your shyness was something everyone respected, never pushing you to speak up or step out of your comfort zone. It wasn’t that you didn’t have opinions or thoughts—you just preferred to keep them to yourself unless you felt it was necessary to say something. You always felt more comfortable observing, being the one who listened rather than the one who spoke.

But despite your quiet nature, everyone knew there was something strong about you. It was in the way you cared for people, the way you never hesitated to step in if someone needed help, and the way you looked at Max with such unconditional love. You had a soft heart, and that made you special.

Max would often call you his "sweet soul," a term of endearment he used whenever he saw you doing something that reminded him of your kind nature—whether it was making sure the team had enough water during a hot race weekend or asking how someone’s family was doing after a long absence. He admired your gentle spirit, always saying that you made his world feel less chaotic.

Everyone in the paddock adored you, seeing you as this quiet, sweet girl who somehow balanced Max's fiery personality with her calm and soothing presence. You had this unassuming beauty that radiated from the inside out, your kindness making people feel at ease around you. You were cute in the way you nervously tucked your hair behind your ear when someone addressed you directly, or how your cheeks flushed when Max wrapped an arm around you during post-race interviews, never comfortable being in the spotlight.

But today, something had changed.

The paddock was loud and chaotic, as it always was on race weekends, but today the tension was unbearable. Max was storming through the Red Bull garage, his face flushed with anger, frustration pouring out of him with every word.

“They didn’t set the car up right. It’s not even close to drivable!” Max’s voice cut through the air, sharp with disappointment. “How am I supposed to compete like this?”

You stood a little distance away, your hands clasped nervously in front of you, watching him pace back and forth. You hated seeing him like this—his frustration rolling off him in waves, but you knew better than to interrupt him when he was this wound up. Besides, you were never the type to speak up in these situations, even if your heart ached for him.

Then, Jos arrived.

As soon as Jos stepped into the garage, you could feel the atmosphere shift. Max’s body tensed, and you knew this wouldn’t end well. Jos walked straight up to him, not bothering with pleasantries, his voice already raised.

“You’re not good enough today, Max,” Jos said coldly. “You call that driving? You let everyone down out there. Again.”

Your heart clenched at Jos’s words. Max, already on edge from the race, stood frozen, his eyes cast down, taking the verbal onslaught in silence. He didn’t argue back, didn’t defend himself—just stood there, his father’s criticisms raining down on him.

“You used to be better than this,” Jos continued, his voice hard. “Maybe you’re getting too comfortable. Maybe you don’t have what it takes anymore. You think people care about your excuses? No, they care about results.”

It was too much.

Your hands started shaking, the pressure building inside you as you watched Max’s face. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this by his own father, the man who was supposed to support him, not tear him down. And as you stood there, something snapped inside you.

“No!” you shouted, your voice loud enough to startle even yourself. You felt the eyes of the entire garage turn to you, stunned by the sudden outburst from someone who was always so quiet. But you didn’t care anymore.

“Stop it!” you yelled at Jos, your voice trembling but firm. “You don’t get to talk to him like that! You’re not a good father. You never were.”

Jos turned toward you, his expression one of shock and disbelief. No one ever spoke to Jos Verstappen like that. Especially not you.

“You push him and push him, but have you ever once thought about how much you’re hurting him?!” you continued, the words pouring out before you could stop yourself. “Do you even care about him, or is it just about the wins to you? About your ego? Max is incredible—he’s kind and patient, and he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at because things didn’t go perfectly today!”

The entire garage fell silent. Even the mechanics stopped what they were doing, their eyes darting between you, Max, and Jos.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you couldn’t stop now. “You’ve spent years breaking him down, telling him he’s not good enough, and I don’t know how, but despite everything, Max is still a good person. A better person than you ever were to him.”

Jos’s face twisted with anger, but before he could say anything, Max stepped forward, placing himself between you and his father. His hand reached for yours, squeezing it gently, grounding you.

“She’s right,” Max said quietly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “You’ve pushed me my entire life, and I’ve never said anything, but… it’s enough now, Dad. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not going to let you tear me down like this.”

You could see the emotion in Max’s eyes, the weight of everything he had been holding in for so long finally bubbling to the surface. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t angry—he was calm, but there was an undeniable finality in his voice.

Jos looked taken aback for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He opened his mouth as if to argue but then closed it again, seemingly realizing there was nothing he could say.

For the first time since you’d known him, Jos Verstappen was speechless.

Max turned toward you, his eyes softening as he met your gaze. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the buzz of the paddock.

You nodded, your chest tight with emotion. You could feel the weight of everyone’s stares on you, but at that moment, all that mattered was Max. The anger that had driven you to speak had faded, replaced by a deep sadness for all that Max had endured. You reached up to touch his cheek gently, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I couldn’t just stand by and watch him hurt you like that,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with the remnants of your outburst. “You don’t deserve any of it.”

Max pulled you into a soft embrace, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing away. For a moment, everything else faded—the race, the disappointment, the frustration. It was just the two of you, holding each other in the middle of the chaos.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, your cheek resting against his chest. “Always.”

Max’s hand tightened on your back, his breathing finally evening out as he held you close. And despite everything, despite the chaos and the tension, in that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered as long as you were together.

[marigoos]

Hello this a long shot call, am a citizen of Palestine. I am here to request for your support to help get my insulin (Humalog), just an injection for today to save my life please I beg.I was diagnosized with type 1 diabetes and due to current situation in Gaza I'm unable to get my insulin injection as a result I'm here begging for little financial support to help me purchase insulin for this week, am having a balance of$168. Am sorry if am sending you again this request, kindly donate any amount please. My donation link is in my pinned post🇵🇸. Thank you and be blessed ❤️

THIS IS A KNOWN SCAM (SEE LINK HERE)

Funny seeing you here just two days after I warned a mutual about you :) I thought you recurring scammers had me pre-blocked after the last time I tagged every single soul I saw reblogging one of y'all's pinned posts. And you know what? I'll do it again. I don't care that it's 300+ people. You deigned to show your ass in my inbox, it would be rude not to answer appropriately!

IF YOU'VE BEEN TAGGED IN THIS POST:

1) don't be ashamed, it happens. I just ask that you kindly delete your reblog or edit it, and warn your followers

2) this is a known scam, they keep trying with new usernames. In general, the red flags here are: generated username (3 english words in a row), very low end goal (they're usually several thousands USD), Paypal (less protections), Humalog/insulin, they say they're vetted but not who vetted them, very recent blog with lots of reblogs of popular posts but unrelated to the topic.

Singularly they're not that weird, but if you see any of those elements you should be more wary and do some research before reblogging!

3) try to follow a scam buster, I follow @/kyra45 (or at least take note. She has some resources that can be useful to check every once in a while)

4) don't feel obligated to come and thank me or apologize for falling for it, that's a lot of you and only one of my inbox °v° it's ok, really, I get it. I've fallen for scams before, it's not your fault I swear

5) if you were tagged but never had anything to do with this scammer: I typed everything manually because it was faster, I may have made a mistake. Do contact me so I can mention the right person ^^"

Next day edit: got blocked, they graciously left another ask in my inbox so I'm adding some more people to my mentions list :3 please notice how they went overnight from magnificentdraginengineer - paypal name lavender namisi, to vallarysblog - paypal name vallary wanjala. They'll keep doing this so get familiar with the text of the ask instead of the name, it's going to serve you in the future

'Nother edit: changed url to loudduckcrown but paypal is still vallary wanjala

@judaswail @nothingventurednothinggained123 @sintribos @igothurtdoingsafetydance @freetobezii

[rachelsfav-queer]

Wednesday: I really don’t see what this all has to do with the bouquet of flowers you offered me, Enid. Quite frankly, you seem to be acting stra-

Enid: *fed up* I LIKE YOU!! THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO DO WITH IT! I LIKE YOU WEDNESDAY AND I WANT TO KISS YOU!! I WANT TO KISS YOU ALL OVER YOUR STUPID, SHARP FACE! THIS! IS! A DATE!!

Enid: I’VE BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND BUT YOU’RE THE MOST CLUELESS PERSON ON EARTH AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING BECAUSE I EXIST!!

Enid: I WANNA BE YOUR FRICKING GIRLFRIEND!!!

Enid is left panting from screaming so much and Wednesday is left flabbergasted, mouth wide open and her face bright red. As literal months of missed flirting and misinterpreted gestures pass by her eyes in less than a second, Wednesday realizes how true Enid’s statement was, as harsh as it may have been. She truly was the most clueless person on earth, perhaps even on the astral plane as well. Just as Enid is about to storm off, Wednesday speaks.

Wednesday: Enid. I apologize for unwittingly putting you through this torture of trying to get through my admittedly thick skull and confess your feelings towards me. I’m ashamed to share any trait in common with that socially inept gorgon you call an ex boyfriend…

Enid: *interrupting sadly* Wends… I didn’t mean that whole, clueless thing. I just… my emotions got a bit ahead of me, I’m sorry. You’re not-

Wednesday: But I am, am I not? I’ve been completely clueless to your advances and looking back, it’s certainly not from a lack of trying on your part. I wish I could’ve noticed your affections earlier, so that I may have told you that they are returned in full by me.

Enid: *starstruck* Wow… well, I’m super glad that you feel the same way about me, Wends. And just for the record, trying to court you has been like, a thousand times more enjoyable than it was with Ajax. At least you were aware enough to go along with everything I had us do, he was barely aware I was even talking to him half the time. Again, he’s cute, but very clueless.

Wednesday was caught on one part of Enid’s sentence.

Wednesday: Court me? You want to court me, Enid?

Enid: *smirks and giggles* Of course, silly! I would absolutely love to get the chance to sweep you off your feet! Just like you deserve, cutie! *winks*

Wednesday: *blushes, smiles* Oh, mi loba. I would love nothing more than to be swept away by your affections. What a fitting proposal for an Addams, being courted by such a beautifully deadly creature as you, Enid.

Enid: *extends her hand* Well then, mi luna, will you allow me to court you? Prove myself worthy of your divine beauty?

Wednesday: *takes her hand* As if you haven’t already proven it by saving my life. But yes, please woo me, Enid.

On the other side of the graveyard, Yoko and Divina are watching the interaction, eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Yoko: Wow, that was literally the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.

Divina: Yeah, that was harder to watch than you trying to be flirty with me before we started dating, baby.

Yoko: *spluttering* I- you- you said! But-

Divina cuts her off with a kiss.

Divina: Shh, you’re cuter when you’re quiet. *winks*

Yoko somehow blushes bright red.

End <3

(Note: Sorry this was so damn long lol. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head of Enid courting Wednesday, so I had to add some plot to it. Hope y’all enjoyed!)

[urdreamydoodles]

Hi! First, I would like to say I love your content! It really makes my day. So, I would like to thank you for that! And I would like to request a how they officially got together for the X-Men characters (especially Laura and Wanda. I love them but also I love them all) if that's possible.

X-Men x Reader

How you became official

You have shared close, unspoken feelings with your crush but you're waiting for the relationship to become official. The X-Men—each overcome their personal hesitations, and with deep emotions, they finally commit to the relationship, making your bond official.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Erik Lehnsherr, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson, Rogue, Wanda Maximoff & Laura Kinney

Pleasure is all mine ♡ I am so happy when I hear that people like what I do—like SO HAPPY. Hope you like it! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- The tension between you and Logan had always been palpable. For months, there had been lingering touches, teasing remarks, and stolen glances. You’d even shared a few heated kisses that left both of you breathless. But Logan, true to his nature, was hesitant to fully acknowledge whatever it was that had blossomed between you. He’d always been protective, always watching you with those sharp eyes, making sure no harm came your way, yet he kept his distance emotionally, unsure of what to do with his feelings.

- One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you and Logan found yourselves alone at the mansion, both bruised and tired. He insisted on patching you up, even though your injuries were minor. Sitting on the bed, his fingers brushed over your skin as he tended to a small cut on your arm. There was a silence that settled between you, heavier than usual. His hands lingered on your skin a little longer than necessary, and when your eyes met his, the unspoken words hung in the air. He let out a soft sigh, his usual gruff demeanor melting away.

- “I ain’t good at this, darlin’,” Logan finally muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair. “But I can’t keep pretending like you don’t mean everything to me.” His admission caught you by surprise, but it also felt like something you’d been waiting to hear for a long time. You moved closer to him, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Then stop pretending,” you whispered softly, leaning in, your lips brushing his. This time, when he kissed you, there was no hesitation, no pulling back. It was real, raw, and full of the emotions he’d been hiding. That night, as he held you close, Logan made it clear that you were his, and he was yours, officially.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- With Remy, it had always been a game of flirtation, a dangerous dance of witty banter and stolen moments. He was a charmer, no doubt, but beneath all the swagger and smirks, you saw the depth of his feelings for you. Over time, the teasing kisses and suggestive comments became something more, something real. You hadn’t put a label on it yet—Remy never liked being tied down to definitions—but there was no denying that you both felt it. He made you feel like the only person in the room, even when surrounded by others. However, despite the intensity, neither of you had ever called yourselves a couple.

- One night, after a long and exhausting mission, the two of you found yourselves alone on the mansion’s rooftop. Remy had brought a bottle of wine, as he often did, and the two of you sat side by side, the cool night air making you both huddle closer. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, and as usual, the easy conversation between you flowed, sprinkled with his usual innuendos. But tonight, there was something different in the air—something heavier, more intimate. He looked at you, his red-on-black eyes softer than usual, his smirk replaced by a more genuine expression.

- “Y’know, cher,” Remy began, swirling the wine in his glass, “I been thinkin’. You an’ me, we’ve been dancin’ ‘round dis thing long enough, non?” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unsure of where he was going with this. “And what ‘thing’ are we dancing around, exactly?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your ear as he whispered, “Whatever it is dat makes me think about you every damn day, even when I’m supposed to be focusin’ on somethin’ else.”

- The confession made your heart race, and for once, Remy wasn’t hiding behind his charm or teasing nature. He was being real, vulnerable even. You turned to face him fully, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. “So, what are we, then?” you asked softly. He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “How ‘bout you be mine, officially?” he suggested, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. Before you could respond, he kissed you—slow, deep, and full of the emotions he’d kept hidden for so long. When he pulled back, he smiled at you, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Now dat’s official,” he said with a wink, and from that moment, you were his, and he was yours.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt had always been sweet, gentle, and respectful of whatever it was between you. The two of you had shared some deeply intimate moments, though never anything too forward. There were stolen kisses, hand-holding in private, and soft words exchanged when no one else was around. You’d grown incredibly close, and though the connection between you was undeniable, Kurt seemed hesitant to take things further. He’d often expressed his concern about his appearance, about how people saw him, and though you reassured him constantly that you didn’t care, he couldn’t shake the self-doubt.

- After a particularly hard day at the mansion, you found Kurt sitting alone in the chapel he frequented. He looked lost in thought, his blue tail swishing behind him as he sat in the quiet. You approached him cautiously, not wanting to disturb his moment of peace, but he noticed you right away. “Ah, mein Schatz,” he greeted with a warm smile, his yellow eyes lighting up at the sight of you. You smiled back, sitting next to him, and for a few moments, the two of you simply sat in silence. There was something comforting about being in his presence, even without words.

- Eventually, Kurt broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “And?” you prompted, curious but not wanting to pressure him. He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I… I want us to be more, but sometimes I wonder if I deserve someone like you,” he confessed, his insecurities showing through. You frowned, gently placing your hand on his arm. “Kurt, I don’t care about appearances, or what others might think. I care about you. And if you want us to be more, then let’s be more.”

- His eyes met yours, full of uncertainty but also hope. Slowly, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You truly mean that?” he asked softly, his voice almost trembling. You nodded, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Yes, Kurt. I want us to be official.” His smile was soft but filled with so much warmth that it melted your heart. Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, careful and reverent, as if he was afraid to break you. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will do my best to make you happy, always.”

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik was different. Your relationship with him had always been complicated, filled with tension and unspoken words. Though you had shared many intimate moments—his lips against yours, his hands on your skin—it never felt quite solidified. Erik was a man driven by his convictions, always focused on the larger picture of mutant survival, and it sometimes felt like there was no room in his life for something as trivial as romance. But you knew better. You saw the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought no one was watching, the way he softened in your presence. Still, despite the closeness you shared, neither of you had ever put a label on what you were.

- One evening, after a particularly heated discussion about the future of mutants, you found yourselves alone in his quarters. The conversation had left you both on edge, but rather than arguing, you simply stood there, the air between you charged with tension. Erik had always been a man of few words, and tonight was no exception. He sat in his chair, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. You could tell he was deep in thought, and you wondered if it was about you, about what the two of you had—or didn’t have.

- Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Erik spoke. “You know, there’s not much room for… affection in the world I envision,” he said, his voice low and contemplative. You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but before you could respond, he continued. “But you… you are an exception,” he admitted, his gaze finally meeting yours. “You’ve become more important to me than I anticipated. More important than I intended.” His admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond.

- “Does that mean…?” you trailed off, not wanting to push too far. Erik stood up then, walking over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “It means that I cannot imagine a world without you in it,” he said, his voice steady. “And that terrifies me.” You reached out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You don’t have to be afraid of that, Erik. I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. When he pulled back, his voice was firm. “Then it’s official. You are mine, and I am yours.” From that moment on, Erik made it clear that, though his cause was still his priority, you were his greatest exception.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott was always a man of discipline, order, and precision. Your relationship had started slowly, marked by cautious glances and subtle touches. You’d spent countless nights together, sharing intimate moments that only hinted at something more. But with Scott, it was never simple. His responsibilities as a leader weighed heavily on him, and he often hesitated when it came to personal matters. You both knew that your relationship had grown beyond casual, but Scott’s reluctance to make it official created a barrier between you.

- One afternoon, you found yourselves alone in the mansion’s common area, the rest of the team out on a mission. You were reading quietly while Scott went over some paperwork, his usual serious demeanor fully in place. After a while, you glanced up at him, unable to hold back any longer. “Scott, we need to talk,” you said softly, setting your book aside. He looked up from his work, his brow furrowing slightly. “About what?” he asked, though you could tell he already knew what was coming.

- “About us,” you clarified, leaning forward slightly. “We’ve been doing this… whatever this is, for a while now, but we’ve never actually said what we are.” Scott’s face softened, and he set his papers down, giving you his full attention. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, and it’s not because I don’t want to. It’s just… I have a lot of responsibilities. I can’t afford to be distracted.”

- You felt a flicker of frustration but kept your voice calm. “I’m not asking you to choose between me and your duties, Scott. I just want to know where we stand.” He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable behind his visor. Then, to your surprise, he stood up and walked over to you, kneeling down so he was at eye level. “You’re important to me. More important than I’ve let on,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm. “I want this. I want you. And I’m ready to make it official, if you are.”

- His words caught you off guard, but a warm feeling spread through your chest. You smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently. “I’m ready,” you whispered against his lips. From that moment on, Scott was fully committed to your relationship, making sure you knew just how much you meant to him, even as he balanced the weight of leadership.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- With Jean, things had always been intense. Your connection was undeniable, both emotionally and mentally. She could feel your emotions as clearly as her own, and you could sense her thoughts even without telepathy. You had shared stolen kisses and moments of passion, but the two of you had never defined your relationship. Jean was constantly worried about the power she held, about losing control, and that fear often bled into your relationship. Despite her deep feelings for you, she hesitated to make anything official, afraid of what could happen if her powers ever spiraled out of control.

- One evening, after a particularly stressful mission, you found Jean sitting by the lake behind the mansion. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and her usually vibrant eyes were filled with uncertainty. You approached her quietly, sitting down beside her. She didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the storm of emotions swirling within her. “Jean,” you said softly, “what’s going on? You’ve been distant lately.”

- She let out a sigh, resting her chin on her knees. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of what?” you asked, even though you already had an idea. She glanced at you, her eyes filled with worry. “Of losing control. Of hurting you.” The vulnerability in her voice broke your heart, and you gently took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t hurt me, Jean. I trust you.”

- Jean looked at you for a long moment, her telepathy allowing her to sense the sincerity behind your words. Slowly, she leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder. “I want to be with you, officially,” she whispered. “But I need you to know that sometimes… I get scared of what I am. What I could become.” You wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “I’m not afraid of you, Jean. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

- That was the moment when your relationship became something more than just fleeting kisses and stolen moments. Jean allowed herself to open up to you completely, and from that day on, you were her anchor, the one person she could always rely on to ground her, even when the Phoenix inside her threatened to rise.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Being in a "not-official" relationship with Wade Wilson was a rollercoaster. You knew what you were getting into from the start: snarky comments, dark humor, and an unpredictability that left you on your toes. You and Wade had already shared kisses, and he was not shy about his attraction to you. However, there was an unspoken agreement between you two not to put labels on it, at least not yet. Wade often deflected serious conversations with jokes or by breaking into some random monologue about chimichangas, but you knew he cared—he just had a hard time showing it in a conventional way.

- One day, you were patching him up after yet another dangerous mission. Wade winced slightly as you applied antiseptic to a particularly nasty wound, and for once, he was uncharacteristically quiet. You caught his eye, pausing your movements. “What’s going on, Wade? You’ve been… less annoying than usual today.” He cracked a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know, sweetheart, I’ve been thinking—maybe you deserve someone a bit more… stable. Someone who doesn’t get blown up every other day.”

- You frowned, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Wade, I knew what I was signing up for. If I wanted someone normal, I wouldn’t be here patching you up. I’d be out with some guy who can’t even tell a good joke.” He chuckled at that, but there was still hesitation in his eyes. You sighed, leaning closer. “Listen, I care about you. A lot. And I’m not going anywhere. So maybe we should stop pretending this isn’t something more.”

- Wade’s eyes softened at your words, and for a moment, he was vulnerable—something rare for him. “You really want this, huh? The whole 'you and me' thing?” You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I do.” With that, Wade pulled you into a surprisingly tender kiss, his usual bravado replaced by something more genuine. “Alright then,” he murmured against your lips. “Guess we’re official now, huh? Sorry, you’re stuck with me.” You laughed, knowing full well that life with Wade would be chaotic, but it would also be full of love, in his own unique way.

Rogue

- With Rogue, everything was complicated. You had both grown close over time, sharing moments that teetered between friendship and something more, but her powers always made it difficult to take that next step. Despite that, the two of you had kissed—carefully, with gloves and all—and it had left both of you wanting more. But Rogue was hesitant, always afraid of hurting you, of losing control. So, the relationship remained unofficial, a constant dance between affection and restraint.

- One evening, you were sitting on the porch of the X-Mansion, the cool breeze ruffling your hair. Rogue sat beside you, her gloved hands fidgeting in her lap. You could tell something was weighing on her mind, and after a few minutes of silence, she finally spoke. “Ah’ve been thinkin’… maybe it’s not fair to keep you waitin’ like this. Bein’ with me isn’t exactly easy.”

- You turned to her, surprised by her words. “Rogue, I’m not waiting for anything. I’m here because I care about you, and I’m willing to figure this out, no matter how hard it is.” She looked at you, her green eyes filled with uncertainty. “But what if ah hurt you? What if ah lose control?” You reached out, gently taking one of her gloved hands in yours. “We’ll take it slow, like we always have. I trust you, Rogue. And I’m not going anywhere.”

- She looked down at your joined hands, her expression softening. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for her. “I am. I don’t care about the risks. I just want to be with you.” Rogue’s lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned in, brushing a soft, gloved kiss against your cheek. “Ah reckon we’ve been dancin’ around this long enough,” she said softly. “Ah’m ready to make it official… if you are.” You smiled back at her, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m more than ready.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- With Wanda, your relationship had always been filled with intense emotions, as expected with someone as powerful and passionate as the Scarlet Witch. You had shared a deep connection since the moment you met. The stolen kisses and the soft touches between the two of you hinted at something more, but neither of you had labeled it yet. Wanda had always been cautious, worried about the risks her powers posed to those she loved. Despite that, there was an undeniable chemistry that neither of you could ignore. She was protective of you, more so than anyone else, and that spoke volumes.

- One day, after a stressful battle, you found her sitting alone on the edge of a cliff near the mansion, gazing out into the horizon. You knew she often retreated when things got overwhelming, but this time, you weren’t going to let her push you away. You sat down beside her, your shoulder brushing against hers, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was comforting in its own way. But you could sense the storm of emotions brewing within her.

- “I’m afraid,” Wanda admitted softly, her voice barely audible. You turned to her, reaching out to take her hand in yours. “Of what?” you asked, your thumb gently rubbing circles over her knuckles. She glanced at you, her red eyes glowing faintly. “Of losing control. Of hurting you. Of losing you.” Her vulnerability touched your heart, and you squeezed her hand, pulling her closer. “You won’t lose me,” you promised, “I’m not going anywhere.” You leaned in, pressing your forehead against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath on your skin.

- In that moment, something shifted between the two of you. The walls she had built around her heart began to crumble, and for the first time, she allowed herself to fully open up to you. Wanda kissed you then, soft and slow, her fingers tangling in your hair. When she pulled back, her eyes were full of determination. “I want this,” she said firmly, “I want us. Officially.” You smiled at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” you replied. And from that moment on, Wanda made sure you knew just how much you meant to her, letting you in completely.

Laura Kinney (X-23/Wolverine)

- Laura had always been a difficult person to read, with her guarded personality and hardened exterior. But over time, you’d broken through her defenses, forming a bond that went deeper than either of you had expected. Though the two of you had shared kisses and moments of closeness, Laura had never fully allowed herself to label your relationship, hesitant to accept something she didn’t fully understand. Despite her tough nature, she had a soft spot for you, one that she tried to hide, but it was always there, just beneath the surface.

- After a dangerous mission that nearly cost you both your lives, you found yourselves alone in one of the mansion’s training rooms. Laura was pacing back and forth, frustration etched across her features. You knew that look—she was angry at herself, angry for not being able to protect you the way she wanted to. “You could’ve died,” she growled, stopping in front of you. “And it would’ve been my fault.” You stepped closer to her, reaching out to grab her wrist gently. “But I didn’t,” you said softly, “We’re both okay.”

- Laura’s green eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, you could see the fear and pain swirling within her. She pulled away from your touch, running a hand through her dark hair. “I don’t know how to do this,” she muttered, her voice raw with emotion. “I don’t know how to be… with someone.” You could hear the vulnerability in her words, and it broke your heart. Stepping forward again, you cupped her face in your hands, forcing her to look at you. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you whispered, “Just be with me.”

- The tension between you melted away as Laura finally allowed herself to let go. She kissed you then, her lips urgent and desperate, as if she was trying to prove something to both you and herself. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath heavy. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered. You smiled, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “You won’t,” you promised, “I’m not going anywhere.” From that moment, Laura stopped running from her feelings and embraced the fact that she wanted you in her life—officially. She may not have been good with words, but her actions spoke louder than anything else.

[itneverendshere]

the way i can see rafe rolling his eyes when he hears you yell across a party for jj to knock it off in picking a fight, and laughs at jj when he listens to you, and is like an embarrassed little dog.

a perfect world where rafe realizes he and jj are the same person in different fonts <3 thank you for the request, i love jj in this lmao😭🩵

 you say you got it & you have to let me see - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The annual boneyard party was in full swing, and like clockwork, someone was trying to start shit.

You stood close to Rafe, your hand loosely gripping a beer bottle as you watched the mess unfold in front of you. "JJ!" you called out, voice loud and clear across the sand. "Knock it off!"

Rafe felt the corner of his mouth twitch, suppressing a grin. It wasn't even surprising anymore.

JJ Maybank—still the same hot-headed teen who grew up a few doors down from you—was in some guy's face, already half a second away from getting clocked.

His first instinct was to roll his eyes. Every year. Every damn year, JJ managed to start up some bullshit. Rafe glanced down at you, saw how your brow furrowed in annoyance, and the urge to laugh took over instead.

It was kind of funny, watching JJ go from ready to swing to immediately backing off the second you opened your mouth.

JJ turned like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar, hands half-raised in defense as he looked at you with wide eyes. “Chill! I wasn’t even—”

"Yeah, yeah," you cut him off, pointing your beer in his direction. "Save it. Just walk away, okay?"

And, of course, he did.

Like a scolded puppy, he muttered something under his breath before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging off. Rafe snorted, shaking his head. "Little brother still listens to you, huh?"

You shot him a look, half-smiling. "Someone's gotta keep him in line."

"Yeah, well," Rafe glanced at JJ’s retreating figure, still chuckling under his breath, "It's funny watching him tuck his tail between his legs every time."

He wasn’t usually one for parties like this anymore—too many reminders of who he used to be—but being here with you made it easier. You grounded him. Three years of dating, living together, dealing with life’s shitstorms, and somehow you still managed to make everything feel lighter.

You narrowed your eyes, “Don’t think you’re so different from him Mr. No one talks down to my girlfriend.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he took a long sip from his beer, savoring the burn of the carbonation on his throat. You had him there. Not that he was gonna admit it. “That was different,” he drawled, flashing you a smirk.

“Uh-huh,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “How, exactly?”

He scratched at his jaw, the familiar prickle of stubble reminding him he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “I mean, I didn’t throw a punch every time. Just made it clear no one’s gonna talk shit.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You’re lucky I love you, Cameron.”

Rafe’s heart did that stupid thing it always did when you said stuff like that, even after all these years. He could play it cool all he wanted, but you knew how to get to him. Always did.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, stepping a little closer, his body blocking the cool breeze coming off the ocean. He could smell the saltwater and smoke, but all he cared about was the warmth radiating from you. He took a swig of his beer, watching the flames from the bonfire dance against the night sky. “How many more times you think you’ll have to pull him out of a fight tonight?”

You tilted your head, thinking for a second before shrugging. “Depends on how much he’s had to drink.”

JJ was like a golden retriever sometimes—quick to rile up, but just as quick to bounce back. Rafe watched him for a second, the way he moved through the crowd, all ego and no direction. It reminded him of himself when he was younger. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“He’s gonna make it hard for me to take him seriously if you keep saving his ass.”

"Like you’ve ever taken him seriously," you shot back, giving him a playful shove.

True. Rafe couldn’t remember a single time in the last few years where JJ had been more than an annoyance. 

"God, it’s like he’s still twelve or something," you muttered, shaking your head. You took a step closer to him, your arm brushing his. The firelight flickered in your eyes, making you look impossibly warm.

The kind of warmth Rafe had gotten used to over the years. The kind he was lucky to have. He turned to face you, an easy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, but at least it’s entertaining.”

You smirked. "For now. I give it an hour before he’s passed out in the sand."

He tilted his head, giving you a mock-serious look. “You wanna place a bet on that?”

You squinted at him like you were actually considering it. “What’s the wager?”

Rafe leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Winner gets to pick what we do tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but knowing exactly what he’d want if he won. He could feel the stupid velvet box burning in his pocket. He carried it everywhere, hoping he’d man up and do it already. He couldn’t do it now—not here, not like this, not with JJ stumbling around somewhere in the background and the sound of half-drunk partygoers laughing around you.

“I don’t know. Maybe spend the day out on the boat. Just the two of us.”

“Alright, deal,” you said, holding out your hand for him to shake, “Sounds nice.”

Nice wasn’t even close to what he had in mind.

He took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You let out a small laugh, leaning into him. The beer bottle in your hand dangled lazily at your side. You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head to capture your lips with his. The kiss was slow, lazy even, like there wasn’t a party around you. “Still think I’m cute, huh?” 

You gave him a look, lips curving into a shit-eating-grin. “When you’re not acting like JJ.”

He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Don’t compare me to that fuckin' idiot.”

You just grinned, pulling away slightly, though your hand stayed on his chest. “Relax. You’re cuter, baby.”

“Damn right,” Rafe muttered, tugging you back to him. He liked having you close like this—reminded him that no matter how much shit had changed, some things stayed solid. You. Him. This.

He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair, and let out a contented sigh. 

JJ had somehow found another beer, and as Rafe glanced his way, he saw Kie giving him a hard time, probably for almost getting into it earlier.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” you asked, following Rafe’s gaze.

“Who, JJ and Kie?” He shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Maybe. Probably not, though. They’re both too stubborn.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sounds familiar.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, we turned out alright, didn’t we?”

You smiled up at him, the firelight dancing in your eyes. “Yeah, we did.”

Just as you and Rafe were starting to get lost in your own little world, a sudden shout cut through the noise of the party. Rafe glanced up and spotted JJ again, this time charging toward some guy who was standing way too close to Kie. 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

JJ's posture tense, fists clenched at his sides, and his voice already rising in that familiar way that screamed trouble. "Hey, man, back the fuck off!" He growled, pushing the guy away from Kie. The dude barely had time to react before JJ was already up in his face, looking like he was seconds away from throwing a punch.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Rafe muttered under his breath.

Without a second thought, he downed the last of his beer and started striding toward fight. You followed, a little concerned but mostly impressed by how quickly he handled it. He was always the one who kept things calm now—so different from his hot-headed younger days.

“Maybank!” Rafe’s voice boomed across the beach, and you could hear the change in tone.

He was done playing around.

JJ, too focused on trying to defend Kie’s honor, didn’t even hear him. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the guy before anything could escalate further.

The younguer blonde whipped around, ready to argue, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rafe. “Dude, I—”

“Start walking,” He hauled him a few feet away, practically dragging him while the other guy quickly disappeared into the crowd.

You couldn’t help but watch the way Rafe took control of the situation, handling JJ like a dad trying to wrangle a rowdy teenager. You could see the way he deflated in response. He’d grown to respect Rafe too much to keep pushing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rafe said, his grip still tight on JJ’s shirt. “You’re gonna get yourself knocked out one of these days if you don’t stop acting like you need to throw hands over every little thing.” JJ scowled but didn’t say anything, and Rafe shook his head, letting him go. “Seriously, Kie can handle herself. And if she needs backup, that’s what we are for—not you getting your ass handed to you every time some guy breathes in her direction.”

JJ kicked at the sand, muttering something under his breath, but he knew better than to argue. Rafe’s voice softened a little, seeing JJ’s shoulders slump. “Look, I get it. But not like this. Not here.”

He nodded once, reluctantly, and Rafe gave him a rough pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. He caught your eye, and you felt the pride bloom in your chest. The way he handled himself, the way he diffused situations—it wasn’t just about being strong anymore, it was about knowing how to lead, how to take care of the people he loved. And, honestly? It was a turn-on.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he came back over to you. He looked so composed, so solid, and that arm of his, the way he pulled JJ back without breaking a sweat—it had your mind going places. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

“What?” he asked, already knowing you were checking him out.

You stepped closer, trailing your fingers up his arm, feeling the strength in the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

“Nothing,” you murmured, biting your lip as your eyes met his. “Just proud of you.”

Rafe chuckled, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. “Proud, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, pressing yourself closer, feeling the warmth of his body. “It’s kinda hot.”

“That what does it for you now? Me playing babysitter?”

You laughed softly, your hand still resting on his arm, fingers trailing along his bicep. “Not just that. The way you handled it. You’re just—”

Rafe’s hand slid down your back. “Just what?” he asked, his breath hot against your neck.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart pick up speed. "Strong.” You smirked, letting your hand slide lower, down the curve of his chest. “Kinda makes me wanna—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of slow intensity that had you melting into him. His hand gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer, because he could never have enough of you. 

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you a little breathless, he smirked down at you. “You keep talkin' like that, we might need to leave this party a little early.”

You grinned up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Might not be the worst idea,” you teased, your voice low. “Think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled away just enough to glance over his shoulder, making sure JJ wasn’t about to start up more trouble.

When he saw everything was calm, he turned back to you, “Let’s get outta here, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

He pulled you in close as you reached the car, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, making your head spin all over again.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Get in the car, Cameron.”

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[hoonigiris]

JEALOUSY

p. sunghoon x f!reader

0.9k

just silly shenanigans from a chronically jealous guy (he can’t help it he was born this way, just check his birth chart!!!)

“i think i need to lock you up.”

you slide your eyes over to him, exasperated. “what…”

sunghoon mutters under his breath, nodding seriously as he repeats the idea in his head until it sounds more plausible than insane. “yeah…” and then again, softer, “yeah…”

“nurse,” you call out to the empty air, “he’s out again.”

he looks at you gravely, shaking his head. “i think it needs to be done. for the greater good.”

“what am i, rapunzel?”

sunghoon opens his mouth to retort, but the image of you as a princess in that pretty, purple dress has him sidetracked and pondering. “that would be a good couple costume this year—flynn and rapunzel.”

“personally, i was thinking more rapunzel and mother gothel.”

the dreamy look in his eye drops almost immediately, suddenly remembering the reason he burst into the living room in the first place. whatever it was, nothing was worth interrupting you in the middle of a grey’s anatomy episode.

sunghoon moves in front of the tv, feet planted and stance determined. you crane your neck to the side to catch a better look of the screen. “can you move? dr. mcsteamy is in this scene and he’s extra hot this season.”

“wh—listen!”

you roll your eyes, pausing the show. “yes?”

“i’m serious!”

“about mother gothel?”

“about locking you up!”

you tilt your head, innocent. “isn’t that what i just said?”

sunghoon groans loudly, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut to fight off an incoming headache. you’d almost feel bad for making his life harder if the threat of imminent captivity wasn’t looming over your head.

but he’s your boyfriend, and he’s obnoxious, and you love him anyway, so you toss the remote on the couch cushion next to you and you give him a smidge of what he wants. you like to call it a pity crumb.

"ok fine, i'll stop teasing," you relent, leaning into the couch with an amused glint in your eye. "why am i under arrest and why is it for the greater good?"

you have some vague idea, of course. any time sunghoon acts like this, the reasoning always lands somewhere around him being jealous, which, as frequent as it comes, is something you’ve learned to take in stride. play dumb, laugh at his antics, give him a kiss, and everything settles back to normal.

the reasoning tended to differ each time, enough to consider creating an encyclopedia page to study from, so you like to make it a game of sorts, to see if you can guess it correctly before he tells you. it’s the closest thing you’ll ever get to the thrill of being on an episode of jeopardy, so you like to relish in the challenge while you can. topic: things that make sunghoon jealous, for 500.

“you’re too…” sunghoon starts, taking you out of your proverbial podium and back to the couch, dr. mcsteamy and mcdreamy blocked behind him. he narrows his eyes, searching for the right word. “unassuming.”

“unassuming,” you repeat, bemused.

"yes." sunghoon knits his brows together, tortured at even the thought. "why else would you have come home with a coffee. from another man."

you look at him quizzically, and then remember how this morning, your classmate who you kept running into every morning at your local cafe offered to buy your drink. you'd accepted, of course; who were you to deny a perfectly innocent gift?

"oh please," you roll your eyes. "he was just being nice! besides, i'm sure he just did it since i helped him finish his lab report on time the other week."

sunghoon frowns. "he was hitting on you. he has motive."

you stare up at him with big, innocent eyes, like a defendant in front of the jury. "how could you ask me to look a gift horse in the mouth... especially when the horse had a cinnamon honey latte."

"because the horse wants to eat you!"

"but it was free!"

sunghoon whips out his phone, tapping a few times, and a ding! sounds from your own phone on the coffee table. you glance over, and try not to laugh.

VENMO sunghoon paid you $6.00 - 😐

"there," he huffs. "if you want free coffee, i'll pay for it from now on, okay?"

you eye him, amused. "if i say yes, will you free me from my predestined shackles?"

he opens his mouth and you can tell by his expression he's about to get started again, so you rescind yourself quickly. "okay, okay. consider it done."

it's sweet, in some way, to have him care this much, even if he makes such a big fuss about it. there's something in his gaze that bleeds earnestness, even through the indignancy, that makes you want to peel him back more. jealousy is an ugly beast, even if you think it looks cute and amusing on him, and often you wonder if it consumes him, if he allows it to lead his thoughts astray.

(it was so easy to fall for you—he couldn’t blame others for doing the same. and if you ended up leaving him for someone else then—well. sunghoon tries to stop it before he gets to that point.)

"hoon," you call gently, and he physically softens at the nickname. you wonder how one word can mean so many things—my love, my heart, my home. all yours. "you know i love you, right?"

he flushes at the sudden confession, ears turning scarlet. and then quietly, sincerely, he mumbles, “i love you too.” perhaps that’s the secret, the reason you can be so flippant about everything, suspiciously free coffee and all.

at the end of the end of the day, you’ll always be his, too.

[sirfrogsworth]

sirfrogsworth please i am begging to know your boomer uncle’s thought process when he installed all those spam search bars what on earth was he TRUING to do

This was my Uncle Larry. He died in 2014 from a lifetime of smoking.

But while he was alive, he was what my grandma would refer to as "a character."

I feel like seeing his photo gives a partial explanation of the toolbar fiasco.

He was a man stuck in the 1960s but extremely curious about new things.

It was the early 2000s and I was trying to make some extra money. So when he was interested in getting a computer I offered to build him one from scratch.

What I didn't consider about this arrangement was that I was basically signing up to be my uncle's IT person. If something went wrong, it could possibly be due to a mistake I made.

He called me up complaining he couldn't see his websites and that the computer was running slower than normal.

I boot up his system and it takes 10 minutes to get to Windows. The desktop was filled with random programs he installed. And when I opened his web browser I was immediately greeted with a dozen pop up advertisements. Once I nuked them all, all of the different search toolbars were revealed. There was maybe a few inches of space for viewing websites and he had just been looking at photos a segment at a time for weeks before wondering if maybe it wasn't supposed to work like that.

I asked him why he installed all of this crap and he told me he didn't realize he had a choice. He just thought you had to say yes to everything that popped up on the screen. He also opened every spam email he received.

To make matters even worse, when he was searching for lewd pictures of Catherine Bell (aka the "JAG lady" with nice cans), he ended up on various softcore porn sites containing ever more dangerous pop up ads. And he clicked on all of those as well.

He loved the internet. It was a wonderland for such a curious person. He loved typing in random things and just reading and looking at pictures for hours. Aside from Maxim photos of TV celebrities, his searches were pretty innocent. He looked at old cars he used to own and lawnmowers he wanted to buy. He read old war stories and found websites helping him learn how to whittle walking sticks.

But he had no sense of danger. He had a Leroy Jenkins approach to life. He just sort of jumped into whatever without any fear or caution. Which is probably why my parents were so pissed at him when he offered 8 year-old me a ride on his new motorcycle. He immediately took me off-road and up a steep hill without a helmet or telling me to hold on. And it was a Harley, so not really meant for that terrain.

I tried a virus scan and it just said "You have every virus." So I had to nuke his Windows install from orbit. I then gave him computer lessons, which he paid me for, so that sort of worked out despite how frustrating it was to keep him from clicking on random things.

Uncle Larry taught me an important lesson.

Never tell your family you know about computers.

[johnbrand]

BACS

With @mrrharper

“Hopkins,” the coach said curtly to the buff guard at the gate. The security officer barely seemed to register him as a person, rather just an item on his list to check off. Once he was allowed to proceed, Coach Hopkins entered into the corridor and proceeded to the farthest room. Quite frankly, the coach embodied everything a man should be at his age: big, strong, rich. Running one of the country’s top collegiate teams meant he was often provided with ample checks. But an investor had been hinting that the meeting he was about to attend would only raise his profits higher. And now standing before the other guests, Coach Hopkins believed this investor was not mistaken.

Feeling mighty pleased with himself, and honestly a bit haughty, the coach scanned the room, taking in all the other broad, strapping men. There was Coach Larson from one of the major east coast schools, Coach McNamara from the private military academy that swept the competition every year. Coach Hopkins recognized another prominent coach from California, but could not place his name. There were a few more men in the room, engaging in casual conversation about work, but the atmosphere in the space was mildly tense. Instead of acquainting himself with others, Coach Hopkins took a seat and remained there until the presentation began. 

“Gentleman,” the host began. The suit that covered his large frame appeared painted on, tight against his skin. A former collegiate athlete who had stayed in shape; Coach Hopkins could not help but take a moment to respect the work. “Invited amongst you today are some of your finest colleagues in the field. Hopefully you all know why you are here, so we will skip past the pleasantries and get right to the presentation.”

Behind the host, the wall suddenly began to glow. A soft light filtered upon it before focusing on colors and images. Eventually, the display became clear, showcasing live camera footage inside an empty male restroom.

“We believed the best way to explain our product was to show how it works,” the host started slyly. Coach Hopkins watched as the door to the restroom opened, revealing a young college-aged male. By his medium build and uniform, the coach assumed he could have been in lacrosse, baseball, or even a non-tackling football player. His third guess was correct.

“Before us is Dawson Welch, a decent transfer from an undisclosed Division III school. Originally holding potential, he has not yet conformed to our nationwide protocol, otherwise known as BACS for short.”

The four words were then flashed in red at the bottom of the screen. A silly acronym, but one that worked nonetheless.

Beefy          Aggressive          Cocky          Straight

“Our case study is about to demonstrate the results of our program,” the host smiled.

There were a few murmurs from the other men. The California coach even shifted a bit, slightly uncomfortable at what he was about to witness. Coach Hopkins remained silent, observing the subject. By his size and careful actions, he could already identify that three of the required four set standards were missing.

“Tyler?” Dawson called out into the room. “Baby, it’s alright, I’m here now.” The coach nodded with confirmation for the fourth characteristic. Grabbing his phone, the host then sent a simple text message. Thanks to the live camera, the men could all watch as the subject’s own device buzzed. Timidly opening it, Dawson checked his phone.

“Ok Tyler, I am going to open the link you sent me,” Dawson called out, unaware the link was not actually sent from his romantic interest. As if already suspecting the lurking danger behind the text, the subject slowly tapped the link and let it proceed forward. The room lit up in a flash, even blinding the live camera temporarily. The audio did not shut off, but the stream went quiet. Moments later, the men were reoriented back into the restroom.

Murmurs flew around the space once more. A few of their faces displayed shock at the screen presented before them. Coach Hopkins held stoic, but his eyes bore straight on. The scene before him was almost entirely the same. Nothing had changed, except for the subject.

“Gone are the days of your players attending frivolous seminars and engaging in anti-anything protests. Thanks to our technology, we can now guarantee your boys will be real, undeniably American men.” 

Where once stood the rather average athletic young male was now a bulky creature. He was taller, brawnier, and brutish. His uniform had been replaced with a tight, all-black outfit to better display his offerings. The sleeveless tank outlined massive pecs, broad shoulders, a thick core, and made his cannon-like arms bulge out of his sides like an oversized action figure. The running shorts appeared more like briefs, searing into the monstrous thighs that led down to steel calves and feet so large they could not be accommodated at most shoe outlets. Speaking of briefs, Coach Hopkins noted the subject was no longer wearing any; a thick python and a low-hanging set were peeking out of one of the leg holes. 

By the gigantic size, the host could easily confirm his product met the first criteria. And by the backwards cap, arrogant grin, and constant man-handling, the men in the room were all able to confirm the second and third on their own. They had been around these types long enough to know the signs.

“What was I doing anyway, bro?” Dawson asked himself in a voice deeper and duller than his previous offerings. After scratching at his thick pubes and giving it a sniff, an idea suddenly sprung into the subject’s head. Coach Hopkins could sense the process of thinking was a more difficult procedure now then it had been before. “Right, I was gonna see if that chick from last night still wanted to get laid tonight. What was her name, Jenna? Brianna? Maybe she’d be a good lil girl and bag me a threesome? God, that’s so hot…”

The stream cut off shortly after, but not before the subject’s continual groping started to awaken his massive dong. The last image was frozen onto the screen, with Dawson preparing the classic flexed picture his predatory nature utilized to ensnare victims.

“So what do you say, gentlemen,” the host sneered. “Would anyone like to try our trial package?”

[arrowsperpetualcringe]

God.

I am so obsessed with the way Bill talks about himself

Like

He's done horrible irredeemable things and he recognizes that, and he knows people want him to be a "sympathetic villain", which he isn't. He has no remorse for his actions.

But on the other hand

Oooh buddy.

You are kinda traumatized aren't you.

(Book of Bill Spoilers beneath the cut)

Bc blacking out when mentioning the destruction of your home dimension, keeping the last particle of said dimension in your hat, and seeming genuinely distant when explaining that your dimension is gone and calling yourself a monster to your partner is like totally not indicative of trauma.

Honestly, he's an awful terrible being, and nothing can justify what he's done in the show or to Ford but man, I do kinda feel bad for the guy.

Deep deep down there is an inkling of something he canonically will never reach, never touch, never acknowledge.

He'll never admit weakness. He'll never say that he's traumatized. He'll never say that he's remorseful. He'll never say that he misses or needs someone.

Because if he's not in control, and if everything isn't bending to his will...

If his life isn't a party, then what has he been living all this time?

[sirenmoontarot]

How do you need to nurture yourself? ☁️🕊️

𝑀𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓅 ~ 𝒫𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝒸 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ~ 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈

~~~~~ 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 ~~~~~

Welcome to the cottage! I am Alla <3 Sit with me in the garden and let’s have some mystic tea as we see what the Oracle has to tell you. Take what resonates and leave the rest!

Pile 1

Okay guys so for this first group i feel that what you actually need to do is to shine on and embrace yourself as how you are and instead of giving into the chaos of uncertainties and your emotions, allowing yourself to gently flow through those emotions in order for you to be fully yourself. We have the moon theme twice, you would benefit from connecting with it, and using the full moon to manifest. I strongly feel you need to expand your energies, you are constrainign yourself a lot of the time, you dont know how to navigate in your own emotions, this pile is encouraged to believe in your power to create, vision, manifest, create the lifeyou want. The power of the yet-not-created is yours. However in your journey this is continuousl affected by pains and shadows of the past, making you sttray away from you power and purpose. I sense many people of this pile have number 11 prominent in their numerology or birthday. Indicating you are called to lead in this lifetime and you also have a strong purpose here that could be related to spirituality, but it often is hard to manage or not fall in the negativity that makes you sabotage everything. The moon reminds you you are in constant fluctuation and you should embrace the ‘’becoming’’ and the feminine principles of flowing, and embracing your emotions. Times of rest and restoration are needed for you to recharge and connect deeper. A new depth of your spiritual practice is calling you. You should aim for ease and stillness, this will help your mind and life overall. The archeptype you have to heal within yourself is ‘’the judge’’ are you using this to be critical ofyourselg, punishimg, unforgiving, building walls around you? This is a powerful energy and it is a gift of discernment, to do the right actions, power, advocacy and compassion but you have to be careful if you are channeling it wrong towards yourself and therefore others…

Pile 2

First of all I am hearing guys you should believe more that you are on ther right paht, because you are. Start walking more confidently in your life, be in presence, strongly with the conviction that you are where you need to be. You need to work on your shame feelings, everything that doesnt let you live as you would wish. You need to meditate more to calm down those thoughts and dissolve those traumas. To find an inner temple inside. Stop hesitating so much, it all comes from childhood wounds. Many people of this group will resonate with the childhood wound of humiliation. You need to feel mothered, some of you in this group need this very strongly, due to mother wound. Connecting to the earth can help you on this, and after that, you will also learn to mother yourself. You also struggle to fully connect to yourself and find yourself a reliable, sacred space. This is normal it also comes with growth, but you are led to do this now, find or create a sacred space within yourself. The feelings of safety are necessary to you as well. sometimes trauma gets embedded in our system, but we are not always in danger. Practicing the mantra ‘’ i am in peace ‘’ can help you a lot. You need to find security in yourself! Also remember to give yourself the space to evolve, change, with ease, grace, and nurturing. Let yourself shed as many skins as you need. Life might have been extra tough for you lately, as if Saturn was lashing you, lol but you are called to breathe and find activities, places that allow you to breathe, expand, release the tention, stress and burden, and this way see the colours of life again. I am seeing lots of green so again, for this group connecting to nature specially trees and rivers will be very nourishing for you.

Pile 3

Okay you guys for this group the energies are very clear, i am getting PRAYING, connecting with the divine; you should hand over your worries, problems and burdens to the Divine. Put your hands on to work, on what you can control and let God do the rest. Hand it over, The thing is, the Divinity wants you to, not put your energies, focus, power in the wrong things. Some things have to end from your life, for actually better things that would be surprising to you will come. Don’t attach yourslef, mainly is out of fear or unawareness of the wonders of the universe. Do not force, let thing run its course, and count on the Divine to help you out, ask God and your angels for an easy path, for the solution, for them to guide you in ease and out of stress. The Divine wants you to start living your soul’s path, and not to focus elsewhere, things that may seem shiny are actually a void, there are other paths that are more aligned to our soul’s nature, abilities and evolution. You are called to go to a temple, you could also create one, or make your house/room a little temple. You are also called to nurture your human vessel, both physical and spiritually and actually embrace this term of Vessel to know more about what it means and might represents for you.

~~~~~ 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 ~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Remember, take what resonates, leave the rest. Lots of blessings ☁️🪽🌙🕊️

~~~~~ 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 ~~~~~

[misfitgirlwrites]

Modern!Reader x Alastor Headcanons | Third Place Giveaway Winner

This is very funny to me. Alastor dating or befriending someone who's more similar to Vox to say the least than him when it comes to...technological advancements

CW: none, just some bickering between what could be seen as an old married couple

It's a little hard for almost everyone to tell, but you and Alastor are close

I say it's hard to tell because you two are constantly throwing jabs at each other and honestly, it couldn't be helped

He was just so...old

Everything about his habits and interests were outdated and Alastor wasn't the type to do his own thing quietly 

There's always a comment, a sideways glance, a light scoff which leads to,

"Don't be upset because you don't know how to use a cellphone."

"Me? Upset over such a device? You confuse me with someone else, dear."

"I don't think I am. What'd you have again? Messenger birds?"

"Very funny."

You would simply chuckle at Alastor for the most part. You've heard it all before, your love and talent did lead to you VoxTech for a bit of your afterlife, but you didn't stay.

You found it more enjoy using what you know to help Charlie with her cause.

You were a helpful person in your own way. It was the only reason you kept trying to introduce Alastor to some form of modern tech. 

"I can make you the simplest most basic cellphone Hell has ever seen. Only phone calls and texting--"

"You lost me."

"--Only phone calls and we'll get to the rest eventually?"

"No."

You'd groan out, "even Lucifer has a cellphone! He's older than you!"

"Was that supposed to help you convince me?"

"...You're such a loser."

You have special nicknames for Alastor when you feel like picking with him. 

Old Allie

Old Man Red

Ye Old Alastor

Arthritis Strawberry

Alastor: Great Gatsby Edition

He hates all of them, of course, and that's why you love them

Alastor is completely uninterested in what you do. His focus is just more on your talent and passion than what you're making

You argue that what you're making is your passion so he should show a little interest

This would lead to a breakthrough!

"Only for phone calls."

"Right."

"Don't add anything else."

"Mhm."

"______. I mean it."

"Don't go using that scary tone with me, mister. I'm your friend, so trust me!"

It took all your willpower to not add anything extreme to the, in your opinion, useless cellphone. Phone calls only, just as promised. You knew Alastor agreed to shut you up, but you were still satisfied with your win

That's why you were very surprised when you got a call from him and you knew he wasn't in the hotel. You of course told everyone who would listen (AKA everyone in the hotel)

You yourself were always on the move and it made you happy that the chance to hear Alastor while you were both away was significantly higher (he lowkey hates the thing, so he doesn't always answer)

After a while, like a lot of elderly, Alastor would just straight up not take the phone with him.

"Al."

"Yes, my dear?"

"The point of a cellphone. You get it, yeah?"

A roll of the eyes

"Al."

"I still use the thing."

"You leave it in the hotel!"

"I forget it here and there."

"You can't tell me you're not someone's fuckin' grandfather with that lame excuse. At this rate, I'm gonna glue the phone to you."

Honestly, he kept it on him for almost two months. You expected to be having this conversation sooner.

After nagging him for a few days, Alastor made sure not to "forget" the cellphone anymore, much to his annoyance. He, of course, couldn't be seen with the thing, so it was just easier to leave it at the hotel

Two more weeks in, and Alastor would definitely be thinking of ways for this device to get in an unfortunate accident, if you will

While fiddling with the damned thing one night, Alastor finally found the one extra feature you decided to add. After a small click sounded, the small phone extended in his hands, making him let it go. The small screen was now larger; touchscreen.

Alastor's eye twitched. He could almost hear you cackling. 

He was going to end you.

@theblueslytherin Here as promised! I really hope you like it!

Alastor Taglist: @alastorssimp @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @dasimp777

[startanewdream]

I've always wanted to write a scene of mutual agreement and support (friendship is a strong word) between Ginny and Romilda Vane, so here's around 1600 words of something that might have happened during Year 7.

*****

They wait until after dinner to round on her.

Ginny is mildly surprised; she'd guessed they would question her as soon as she got off the train, but perhaps they thought that Snape's speech—not the Headmaster's, she'd never consider him so—might terrify her enough to make her betray everything she has ever believed on. If so, they were very mistaken; seeing Snape in the middle of the staff table, with Death Eaters by his side, only infused her Gryffindor spirit.

"Weasley," calls Alecto Carrow. She has a mind to pretend to ignore her, but the mass of students climbing the stairs seems to freeze with that call, and Ginny has no choice but to answer it, all eyes on her as she walks to Alecto Carrow.

"Yes, Professor." She puts as much spite in that word as she can. Neville and Luna suddenly materialize next to her, and Ginny almost wishes they would stay away, as if there is any protection to be found this year.

Alecto looks her up and down. "That's it?" Her voice is mocking. "That's Potter's girlfriend?"

By her side, Crabble and Goyle nod; their gazes are not as unappreciative as Alecto's. With a shudder, Ginny thinks she will favour disdain any day.

"I thought Potter had better taste."

She buries her nails into her palm. Don't answer, she tells herself, and tries to keep a look of disinterest.

"Where is your boyfriend?"

Her rehearsed answer comes in a bored tone. "I would know if I had any." It feels more than ever that everyone is staring at her.

Alecto doesn't seem convinced, nor do her cronies.

"They were dating," says Goyle, in a whisper that everyone can hear. "Everyone saw it, they were snogging all around the place."

"It's what happens when you are dating someone," snaps Ginny. "We've broken up." She hesitates for a tiny beat. "He dumped me."

This time her rehearsed line doesn't sound credible, despite being the truth. Everyone's gaze seems to burn, evaluating her answer, and, for a moment, Ginny waits for someone to question this, to raise the absurdity of her words: they were in love. As Goyle had noted, anyone could see how they felt about each other; Harry had been beaming the whole time they were together, all those few weeks of sunshine and happiness and hope. Harry wouldn't just dump her—

And then Alecto Carrow laughs.

"I guess Potter already got what he was after, then?" She mocks. "Blood traitors aren't a good value if..."

"Perhaps the girl is lying," another voice pops in, and Ginny turns to see Amycus Carrow joining his sister. His gaze upon her makes Ginny shiver; she remembers all too well duelling him. "Perhaps she knows more than she's letting on—"

"I wouldn't think so," Luna says, her voice as dreaming as ever. "If she knew, she wouldn't be here."

"Harry always kept his secrets," Neville adds, crossing his arms.

Amycus and Alecto share a look before Amycus takes a step forward.

"I will be the judge of that. If we have Potter's precious girlfriend—"

"I am not even his girlfriend anymore!"

It doesn't seem to matter, though. Terror floods her, not so much for herself; there isn't anything that she can share with them, but if somehow Harry finds out that they've got her—their breakup will be for nothing—he is too stupid and too noble to do something reckless—

Amycus grabs her arm; Ginny dives her hand into her pocket, but before she can take out her wand, many things happen. Professor McGonagall appears, Neville points his wand at Amycus, and Romilda Vane laughs nervously.

"Please," she says. "Weasley was his girlfriend, so what?”

That makes everyone draw their eyes to her. Romilda tosses her hair out of her face, seemingly enjoying the attention, but Ginny can see a thin layer of sweat breaking through the girl's careful makeup.

"Harry was always smiling at me, flirting unashamedly, even when he was dating her. I wasn’t the only one either. Everyone knew he wasn't good business. A ladies' man, that one."

Ginny blinks; she is not alone. The year before, when Harry was at the height of his popularity at Hogwarts, everyone's favourite Chosen One, he had drawn many eyes. Ginny had found it bothersome, but she could understand what everyone was seeing: that gorgeous young man with messy dark hair and green eyes, tall and fit, with the added benefit of seeming oblivious to his own charm, almost shy. It had been endearing.

That also was one of the reasons why, when Harry and Ginny started dating, everyone wanted to talk about it. It had been huge news for Hogwarts' standard.

There was no way anyone would believe that Romilda was telling the truth.

"Potter never had any other girlfriend," Crabbe mumbles.

Romilda laughs derisively. "I wasn't his girlfriend, haven't you heard what I just said? He just liked to flirt." She nudges her friend. "Do you remember, Lisa? I told you Harry never took his eyes off me."

Lisa looks terrified, but she nods. "Yes," she confirms in a small voice. "And you—you shared chocolate once."

"Harry dated Cho," someone from the Ravenclaw crowd says, and there's a murmur of agreement.

"I went with Harry to a Christmas party last year," notes Luna. She skips the part where they went as friends.

"I think I saw him snogging a girl behind the greenhouses," Hannah Abbott says.

At her side, a boy nods. "I saw something in the library once."

People start adding comments, their voices mingling in a cacophony. The weirdest part is that Ginny knows no one is lying; people are telling about the times they saw Harry with a girl — only she was this girl, this only girl, but no one specifies that.

"Quiet, quiet!" Alecto sounds annoyed. She looks at Crabbe and Goyle. "Is this true?"

They shrug, lost.

"I saw Potter with Chang at Madam Puddifoot's," Pansy Parkinson confirms, distasteful. "And he went with Loony Lovegood to Slughorn's party."

"That would be Professor Slughorn, Miss Parkinson," chides Professor McGonagall, taking a definite step ahead and placing herself between the Carrows and Ginny. She raises her arm and, almost without a second glance, lowers Neville's still extended arm. "I do not see why a student's romantic life is under scrutiny at this hour of the night, especially a student who is not even here at the moment, but the others have class tomorrow morning."

"This is more important than classes," Amycus spats.

"I remind you this is still a school," Professor McGonagall says coldly.

Amycus' answer is cut by a bored voice. "What is this?" Snape walks, easily opening his way between the students gathered at the door.

"We are trying to interrogate the Weasley girl," Alecto says. "To find out the whereabouts of Potter. She was his girlfriend."

Snape rolls his eyes. "You heard the others. Potter was a lover-boy; that is not surprising considering how his father behaved with his fans." He regards Ginny coldly. "Weasley is not special. I doubted Potter ever shared anything more than a snog with her."

There's an underlying truth in his words that stung her, but before she can react, Snape is already addressing Professor McGonagall.

"Take your students to bed, Minerva. It would not be advisable to be out of the bed at this hour."

Professor McGonagall, who had been frowning at Snape as if trying to figure out something, bristles; there's nothing but repulse in her eyes as she nods.

"Of course, Severus." She turns to Ginny and the others. "Go to the Common Room, now."

And she casts a warning glance at Ginny, who runs to meddle between the other Gryffindor students climbing up the stairs. Her heart doesn't stop beating painfully until she enters the Common Room, and only then she looks back; the Carrows aren't in sight. She doubts this is the last time they will try to question her, but for now, she can breathe easily and give Neville a feeble smile when he looks at her.

"We will watch your back," he whispers.

"It will be fine," she says, with a confidence she doesn't feel. Nothing about her experience at Hogwarts so far gives her any faith that things will turn out well.

And then she catches a mop of black hair.

"Romilda," she calls. Romilda pauses on her way to the stairs.

"Yeah?"

Ginny waits until they are alone to whisper: "Thank you."

Romilda nods. There’s a moment of silence, during which Romilda eyes the stairs as if considering fleeing the scene before she asks: "Did he really break up with you?"

Ginny gulps. "Yeah."

"Oh, I thought—"

"No, it was true."

She waits for some remark; Romilda was truly determined to get Harry the year before, and she had pestered Ginny when she was dating Harry.

"He never actually flirted with me," Romilda says in a rushed whisper. "And you were special to him, I—I spent a lot of time watching him and trying to get his attention, but he never glanced at me... because he was too busy ogling at you."

Warmth spreads inside Ginny; she cannot help her smile. "Harry didn't ogle."

"Yes, all the time. He had it hard for you. Still has, I'd bet." Romilda smiles awkwardly. "Not very womanizer of him."

Ginny's eyes wide. "About that—if anyone finds out that you were exaggerating—"

"I'll talk to my friends. No one is going to say anything."

"I know. I trust you." They look at each other; it suddenly occurs to Ginny that Romilda has no idea, not really, of what could happen if anyone suspects her lie. Romilda never faced a Death Eater. Ginny hopes she never does. "It will be fine."

It's the same thing she told Neville before, but now there's a promise in her voice.

Romilda nods one last time. "Night, Ginny."

"Night, Romilda."