#what am i even going to do with this information?

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part two?)

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"Alright, kid." Danny sighed as he walked back into the motel. "tell you what, you tell me everything you think you know about me and bats, and I'll be Robin. Deal?"

Tim's eyes widen in surprise, "wait, really?" he asks, dropping the third Oreo he had been trying to balance on Sam's forehead. Sam snored, her nose twitching in agitation for a moment before going back to normal.

Tim leaned back, keeping an eye on her. "do you really mean it? you'll come back and fix him?"

Danny sighed, "I can't promise that I'll be able to fix him, but I can promise to do my best."

tim nodded his head, "That's all I ask." then the kid stood up, holding his hand out for Danny to shake, "We got a deal, Robin."

Danny smirked, unable to keep a straight face at how cute the kid was being. Reaching out, he shook his hand.

"Right, first things first. Who's Batman, and why do you think so?" Danny asked, making his way over to the table. Tim followed behind him, his face brightening up in excitement.

"Bruce Wayne of course," Tim cheered, plopping down onto the chair across from Danny.

of course, another rich fruit loop would be Batman. Why not? What's next? Lex Luther was Superman's archnemesis? Oliver Queen cosplayed Katness Evergreen?

"I thought Dick Grayson, Bruce's ward, was Robin at first. It had made sense, or at least mostly did but I wasn't completely sold on it. I only really thought it was him because Robin was able to do a quadruple backflip, and only Grayson's family was able to do that. but then I saw you! and it makes perfect sense!" Tim smiled excitedly, leaning forward as he continued.

"You were able to do the flip, AND you acted just like Robin did! Dick doesn't act like Robin in public, or ever really. But you do! You did the flip, you make puns! you even bit that one mugger!"

Danny blinked before slowly nodding his head; Well, at least his personality wasn't going to be a problem. "right, makes sense," not. it did not make sense, but who was Danny to crush this kid's hopes. also, how long ago was this? because Danny hadn't done the flip this time... he's definitely bitten a criminal or two over the past two weeks, but the flip? that had to have been back when he first got his powers... he vaguely remembers his parents dragging him around the country on some trip Vlad set up for them.

see, it was totally Vlad's fault.

"and who was the second Robin?" Danny asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Bruce's second kid, Jason Todd," Tim replied, not smiling anymore. "The Joker killed Robin over in Ethiopia. Jason went missing and was declared dead around the same time."

"Right," Danny coughed, glancing away from Tim. "and what else do you know?"

"Well, I know Commissioner Gordon's daughter, Barbara, was batgirl..." Tim trailed off with a wince, obviously not liking the conversation anymore. Danny had to agree, the whole class had been informed about the dangers of Gotham City. Barbara Gordan had been one of the examples they used.

"I know that you're using a fake name!" Tim suddenly added, looking more lively now. Danny blinked before sighing, "Yeah? and why's that?"

"you used your bat training to make a fake identity to throw Bruce off your trail! That way you would have more time to settle in with your new team! and it worked for a while, that is until he caught up to you and your team. it doesn't seem he knows about this identity, so you've been using it ever since Jason's death. because you're mad at him."

"and why am I mad at him?" Danny asked, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Just what had he gotten himself into?

"because he didn't tell you about Jason's death." Danny glanced back at the kid, watching as he looked away and out the window. "just like he didn't tell Dick..."

had he finally connected the dots? had he finally realized he got the wrong person?

"why would he not tell you two?" Tim asked, turning to look up at Danny. Danny shrugged, turning to look back at the ceiling. "grief makes people do things they never would have before." like becoming a billionaire and spending twenty years scheming on how to murder a single man. or it could make them more obsessed with their work.

Danny knows Greif, he's had to deal with it for years now. It's the only thing he understands about why Batman has changed so much. Greif, especially for someone you love? It changes you, it holds onto your heart and never lets go. It can drive you insane if you let it.

"he was so caught up in his own grief he didn't realize that there were others who needed to grieve with him."

"Oh," Tim replied.

they sat in silence for a moment before Tim spoke up again.

"I know where the Batcave is."

Danny blinked. Right. Batman. Batcave. the bat-themed vigilante had a secret lair and it was a cave. That checked out. At least it wasn't in the basement.

"yeah?" Danny prompted, "And where's that?"

"under the manor," Tim replied, crushing any and all hope Danny had for Bruce Wayne.

It was official. All billionaires were fruitloops. Danny didn't care if they didn't all have secret basements, they were fruitloops.

Next

[freckliedan]

if they're both out, then why bother hiding their relationship / stuff like sharing a room and going on couple holidays? surely all of their fans know that they're together so i don't get the point of buying a home with 2 bedrooms and having a fake apartments? sorry very confused very casual fan here

hi!!! i am always so happy to share information, so ty for asking me about it! i'm going to take these questions piece by piece ^_^

if they're out why bother hiding: most of the examples of them taking serious steps to hide their relationship are from before they came out! they have been together since 2009, but dan wasn't even out to his family until 2019, shortly before he came out publicly.

why not come out sooner than that? i'll try to be brief and avoid rehashing dan's entire coming out video (which is worth watching). several reasons: he was severely bullied from early childhood onward for being gay—from before he even had the chance to consider if he was actually gay. his dad was homophobic to the point dan seems to have removed him from his life completely, & he was raised by religious grandparents so unsure of the reception there.

and significantly: he and phil were outed by a youtube glitch that leaked an extremely personal video in 2011 that leaked again on a broader scale about a year later. being outed was a part of the bullying dan had experienced so this was retraumatizing but on a bigger scale.

they had had SOME level of plausable deniability regarding their relationship before the leak, but hadn't been very actively closeting themselves before that point? and then the leak happened around when they were blowing up in popularity/around when youtube was becoming a viable career, so they were already grappling with sudden fame & a lot of other things happening in their lives at the time.

dan was 20 and phil was 24 the first time that video leaked; they were 21 and 25 and living in an apartment they couldn't afford on their own hoping the bbc would hire them (they did) the second time it did. it makes sense that they came down hard & firmly closeted themselves, especially dan, especially with what he's shared of his personal experiences.

2012-13 was the peak closet, but by 2015 they were already being more open—that's the first couple's trip they went on again after active closeting started. they've just become more and more open from there, but the peak closet era was so definitive that the public perception of them as not a couple WILL NOT SHIFT until they directly express that they are a couple.

they ARE out to fans as a couple, and imo have been since before they came out individually. they've said things along the lines of "we know you know" multiple times.

why not be definitive about their relationship status when they came out? it would've overshadowed them coming out as individuals and they didn't want that. it will be MASSIVE news when they hard launch their relationship. they went ambiguous with it on purpose in 2019 and succeeded.

so. to circle back to your questions.

why bother hiding their relationship? they haven't really since coming out. they've been living freely and being open about that in whatever ways are comfortable to them. they took some time out of the public eye for a while and i'm glad they got to have that so they could explore what happiness looks like without feeling the need to perform. but it was also something that was intentionally temporary!

at this point in time when they call each other friends or roommates etc they're fully doing a bit. like. it's funny! and it's funny at our expense which makes it even funnier—it's their turn to put us through some shit, you know? & the joke is more on people who AREN'T familiar with them than anyone else at this point. it's nice being in on things with them.

why hide sharing a bedroom? they haven't really since moving into their forever home! they have a bedroom and a guest room and there's a murphy bed in phil's filming space/personal office.

phil at some point made a comment that the murphy bed is for if they have two guests over at the same time—something that will only really read as "they share a bedroom" to people keeping track of rooms in their house.

i don't think that they share a bed they sleep in 100% of the time. which is like, normal and healthy? being able to sleep in a different bed when you want/need is NICE i've known so many people who keep seperate rooms in committed relationships and if i was rich enough i'd love having two bedrooms with beds in them in my relationship. even if we'd mostly sleep in the same place.

i also think having multiple beds means dan and phil can have freak sex in one and be lazy about clean up bc they have other beds so that's. a plus for them too.

but like. yeah. i think it's less that they're hiding that they share a bedroom and more that they share a bedroom but have better boundaries with their audience at this point—there stopped being video liveshows after they came out and they'd stopped doing liveshows from their actual bedroom when they moved in to the separate apartment situation.

+ the separate apartment situation was ONLY ever meant to be short term, & was a solution to the situation before that, when every room was in videos and it permanently felt like they were living in sets.

why hide couple holidays? they haven't since before coming out! they also go on a lot of double dates.

no sorries on the confusion and thank you for the chance to infodump!

[dduane]

Is there an alphabet or lexicon of the human version of The Speech? And if so, where can I find it?

No, there's not.

(And as I've been asked about this before, I'm just going to paste the answer in here—since though the original post is buried in the depths of Tumblr somewhere, I do have my saved draft.)

Per these, which came in very close to each other:

@melbetweenstars

This is something I’ve always wondered but never realized I could actually ask about until I read through that long meta response. (go me.) How much of the Speech do you have fleshed out? Do you create it as you go on more of a need-to-know basis, or do you have vocabulary and grammar structures ready to go? Basically I’d be really interested to hear any Speech-related meta if you have the chance because fictional languages are hella cool!

and:

@sansa–clegane

I just read your post on dark wizards and field terminologies, and am totally loving the Speech translations you provided! Now I’m wondering, though, how much of the language you actually have mapped out or established? I’m very curious as to what, for example, the standard “I - you - he/she/it/etc. - we - you plural - they” conjugation endings would be– or if there even are any in a language as complex as the Speech. I’M JUST REALLY INTERESTED IN FANTASY LINGUISTICS AAAHH

Linguistics is a big deal for me too, as people who read my stuff will have guessed. And needless to say, the Speech is on my mind a lot (along with other “magical languages” and their history/histories).

So let’s take a moment to first to make it clear what the Speech is not. It’s not what’s sometimes referred to as an Adamic language  (whether you take the meaning that God used it to talk to Adam, or that Adam invented it to name things.) It’s also nothing whatsoever to do with Enochian. It’s not an occultic language, or anything invented by human beings.

The basic concept is that the Speech is the language, or the very large body of descriptors, used to create the universe (and very likely others, but let’s leave that to one side for the moment). Such words are also assumed, having been used in the building of the universe, to be able to control the bits they’ve built. Every word, therefore, when used ought ideally to sound as if it contains some tremendous power. 

Writing something like that every time the Speech is used, even for a much better writer than I am, would be very, very hard.

(We need a cut here. Under the cut: Ursula Le Guin, C. S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, J. K. Rowling, and others. ...Also a fair number of beetles. And a bear.)

It’s worth mentioning as a matter of information that I met the concept of secret / divine magical languages in Le Guin’s Earthsea long before I ran into it in C. S. Lewis. (I came pretty late to Lewis’s non-Narnian work.) Yet here Lewis, as more than occasionally before, is my master, having been over this ground right back in the mid-1940s.

There’s a point in the final novel of the so-called “Planetary Trilogy”, that big fat (now endlessly problematic but still fun-in-the-right-moods) book That Hideous Strength, where Elwin Ransom—philologist, unwilling visitor to Mars and Venus, unnerved conscript into the wars in Heaven, and Lewis’s take on both the Pendragon and the wounded Fisher King—is instructing his friend and co-linguistics scholar Dimble on how to behave in a meeting with the newly awakened, and potentially quite dangerous, Merlin Ambrosius. (The POV in this passage is that of a lady named Jane who's just recently fallen into company with the group supporting Ransom.)

“You understand, Dimble? Your revolver in your hand, a prayer on your lips, your mind fixed on Maleldil [just think “Christ” for the moment: surprise surprise, that’s the parellel Lewis is using here]. Then, if he stands, conjure him.” “What shall I say in the Great Tongue?” “Say that you come in the name of God and all angels and in the power of the planets from one who sits today in the seat of the Pendragon, and command him to come with you. Say it now.” And Dimble, who had been sitting with his face drawn, and rather white, between the white faces of the two women, and his eyes on the table, raised his head, and great syllables of words that sounded like castles came out of his mouth. Jane felt her heart leap and quiver at them. Everything else in the room, seemed to have become intensely quiet: even the bird, and the bear***, and the cat, were still, staring at the speaker. The voice did not sound like Dimble’s own: it was as if the words spoke themselves through him from some strong place at a distance—or as if they were not words at all but present operations of God, the planets, and the Pendragon. For this was the language spoken before the Fall and beyond the Moon, and the meanings were not given to the syllables by chance, or skill, or long tradition, but truly inherent in them as the shape of the great Sun is inherent in the little waterdrop. This was Language herself, as she first sprang at Maleldil’s bidding out of the molten quicksilver of the star called Mercury on Earth, but Viritrilbia in Deep Heaven.

Now if that’s not like being hit over the head with a hammer, I don’t know what is.* That moment has been before the eyes-of-my-mind for a long time as I’ve worked with the Speech.

Note, however, that Lewis does a very wise thing here. He doesn’t actually spell out any of the words out for you. Because in the reader’s mind, there’s always the six-year-old saying, “Go on, say the word: see how it sounds, see what happens…!” And when you recite the magic spell, it doesn’t work. The words come out sounding, well, like any others. And maybe not your interior six-year-old, but your interior twelve- or fifteen-year-old—the ego-state that’s about keeping you from getting hurt or looking stupid in front of other people who aren’t privy to or supportive of your dreams—says, “See, it was just another word, just a bunch of nonsense. You got fooled. Dummy!” No wise writer, I think, willingly sets their readership up for such easy and constant disappointment. It's tough enough to weave, and hold in place, the spell that is prose. Handing the audience a potential spellbreaker, over and over again, is folly. 

And by rights the Speech ought to be like Lewis’s example above. If in reality you were to hear the words used to restructure matter or undo gravity, they ought to shake the air in your chest like a Saturn V launch, they should raise the hair on the back of your neck to hear them used; they should freak you out. But a long string of invented syllables isn’t going to do that. I’m stuck with using English to produce even the echo of such a result.

Which means I have to go Lewis’s route… mostly. Here and there I’ll add in a Speech-sourced word or phrase when it supports the narrative or makes it easier for characters to talk about what’s going on—as, when working with wizardry, you do sometimes have to call in precisionist-level language for words that have no casual English cognates: just as you would if you were working in particle physics or organic chemistry at the molecular level. But that’s all I’m going to do… because if you do too much linguistic work in this regard, you constantly run the risk of your readers being distracted from the real business at hand, which is the interactions between/among the characters.

The tech inherent to a work of fantastic fiction is always an issue in this regard. Ideally L. Sprague de Camp’s very useful definition of science fiction, tweaked here for fantasy, ought to be a guideline: “A fantasy story is a human story with a human problem and a human solution that could never have happened without its fantastic content.” Yet inside the definition, there’s still a lot of ways to go wrong. Too much merely human stuff, and a work of fantasy turns into a soap with some casual magical gimmickry—all too often these days labeled as “magic realism”, when it’s not publisher code for “We’d call this fantasy if we had the nerve and we didn’t think it was going to tag us as ‘genre’ and keep us off the best-seller lists”. Too little human-problem-and-human-solution, and it turns into a modern version of what James Blish (God rest him), when writing as the gently merciless science fiction critic William Atheling Jr., used to call “The 'Greater New York and New Jersey Municipal Zeppelin Gas Works’ school of speculative fiction”, where you tour your readership through the Wonderfulness Of Your Tech (magical or otherwise) until they expire of boredom while waiting for someone to fucking do something.

You have to find a centerline between the extremes—indeed pretty much a tightrope—and walk it with some care. I’d guess that J. K. Rowling ran into the need for this balancing act; while never having read the Potter books, I nonetheless get a sense that you get the occasional Wingardium leviosa without also being burdened with long strings of magical Latin. (Though I confess that the answer to the question “Where does the magic come from? And what’s it for?” as it applies to her universe could be of some interest. I have no idea whether this ever gets explicitly handled.**) 

Anyway, it’d be way too easy for the YW books to become long discourses on the Speech and its use. This aspect of the “tech”, I think, gets more than enough time onstage. Having once established that words are a tool, indeed the tool for a wizard, the ur-Tool, making every spell they build a resonance between what they do and the initial/ongoing work of Creation—my business is to stay focused on the challenge of driving plot forward by interactions between human beings (and all kinds of others) who have conflicting agendas.

…So much for the tl;dr. I do have some very basic grammatical structures tucked away, but they’re not in any fit state for other people to look at. The Speech, I think, is really best treated as an ongoing mystery that unfolds a little at a time, as required, and leaves everybody wanting more.

HTH!

*It also leads into one of numerous affectionate nods in this book toward Tolkien, as philologist, fellow novelist, and Lewis’s good friend. It's no accident that when Ransom meets up with Merlin himself, a little later in the narrative, the question of this language—the proper name of the Great Tongue is “Old Solar"—comes up again. When discussing what language they’ll speak with each other during their upcoming negotiations [they apparently start out in a rather beat-up and denatured medieval Latin], Ransom says to Merlin about the language he’d prefer to be working in, "It has been long since it was heard. Not even in Numinor was it heard in the streets.”

The Stranger gave no start … but he spoke with a new interest. “Your masters let you play with dangerous toys,” he said. “Tell me, slave, what is Numinor?” “The true West,” said Ransom. “Well,” said the other.

Yeah, “well.” Better scholars than I have dealt with the relationship between these two, as scholars and writers and friends, so enough of that for the moment. But it’s very sweet to see Lewis do something in his books that I’ve done with mine.

**It’s always possible, of course, that in the HP universe this issue is a surd: like asking “where physics comes from”. (Well, not a surd precisely, if your spiritual life tends a certain way. Mine tends toward “Whoever or whatever made the universe, that’s who made physics. And they must really like it, because they made a metric shit ton of it!” (This answer also works for beetles, though that's a slightly different issue.) :)

But if there’s a most-fundamental difference between my wizardly universe and Rowling’s, it might be best revealed in the third question that came up for me directly after “What if there was a user’s manual for human beings/the world/the universe?” and “If there was, where would it have come from?”: specifically, “And why?”

***There's a bear in the Pendragon's kitchen. Thoth only knows what initially brought that on for Lewis, but it's a character insertion that pays off later, so (shrug) wtf.

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

Why is death feederism ok? It is objectively self harm, as one is doing something that will result in them hurting themselves and eventually dying (as fetishized). I just can’t understand it… I am someone in this space that likes being stuffed and full, and doesn’t mind a little biy of wg… but I just don’t understand why gaining until death is encouraged so much when it’s so extreme and life ruining.

Like if there was a feeder and feedee couple that were into it… what would happen if the feeder had issues and couldn’t help the feedee that is reliant on their feeder? What happens if they break up and the feedee is dependent enough where they need family or something to help?? I mean it’s just… they could literally die if they were so dependent and forced to live on their own.. encouraging people to ruin their lives because it makes their private part excited is encouraging self harm.

This is my opinion and I seriously want to know what you have to say… I brought this up to someone else and their response was to block me and say “I think death feeding women think more critically about the fetish🤔” without response. And just so you know this isn’t fatphobic, i never once said I find fat people gross or anything, I just find the idea of fetishizing self harm gross. It’s fetishizing being disabled and or dead.

TW for death feedism, kink talk, self harm/suicide

so general disclaimer - I am not a death feedist and so I don’t know that I’m a good representative to speak on this topic but I’ll share some brief thoughts.

I think it’s okay to look at extreme fetishes and feel uncomfortable with them, so I’m not going to try and tell you that you can’t feel the way you do. I was very critical of people who practiced this fetish in ways I personally didn’t like and this community helped me realize it’s not my business to do that. There is no moral superiority in kink.

The thing is though - in order to be sex positive and an ally to our fellow feedists (yes, even the ones we disagree with or don’t like how they practice the fetish) we have to respect their bodily autonomy and allow them to make whatever decisions they think is best for them. It’s not our job nor our place to tell folks what they can and can’t do.

I would maybe agree that it’s a slippery slope and in a very extreme case, you could argue that this line of thinking would allow us to excuse a suicide fetish, for example (unsure if that’s a real thing). But there ARE disability fetishes and a fetish isn’t inherently bad as long as there are informed consenting parties and you are practicing RACK.

I don’t know if that line of thinking is even worth arguing because it could only serve to slip the other way up the slope back to overt purity culture. I want to validate your thoughts and questions because its important to critically analyze things and i want to believe you are coming from a place of good faith (and I have it in me to try and discuss this).

Regarding the statement of “death feedists think more critically about the fetish” could be true, as realizing you’re a death feedist DOES require reflection and understanding of yourself and of fatphobia in general. I haven’t had at length discussions with folks about this but the death feedists on my dash that post about fat lib seem to know their shit.

At the end of the day, why death feedists enjoy that aspect of the fetish is not for me to debate with or without them present. It’s not for me to tell them what they can and can’t do with their bodies. That aspect of the fetish isn’t for me, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to tell others what they should get off to. I also think death feedists are a smaller portion of the community and it’s easy to block the tags they use if you don’t want to see their content. I know a few death feedists and I like them (at least their online persona) and they are probably more equipped to discuss this if they want to. So please feel free to add some comments if you’d like, death feedist friends.

My advice is practice radical acceptance. It feels uncomfortable but I think ultimately it makes you a better person when dealing with things you think are weird or gross or bad.

[laneywrld]

call out my name | Lewis Hamilton

request: heyy, can we get a story with call out my name by the weeknd as the base line of the story .

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none

When you first met Lewis, you had a feeling it'd end like this.

If you could go back and change that night, you would, with no hesitation. You missed the days when Lewis was a nonfactor in your life when you didn't know he existed.

You remember that night all too well. Miami was always alive when the Grand Prix came around, your friends, like the partygoers they were enjoyed taking the opportunity to take on the vibrant nightlife and enjoy the crowds the race brought in.

It was an annual tradition, you could say, to party like tomorrow didn't exist when the lights shut down and engines roared to life.

When you first moved to Miami, you hadn't understood the essence of the sport or the crowds it brought in, until you met an overly enthusiastic Daniel Ricciardo.

You had no clue who he was when he quite literally stumbled into your path; his boyish smile and golden retriever energy made it almost impossible to be mad at him as his drink soaked your dress.

"I'm so sorry!" He calls out, stumbling over himself.

"You're not from here?" You called out as you reached down to help him stand up straight. His thick accent was a dead giveaway.

"No, I'm Australian."

"Long way from home," you shouted over the music, dragging his frame into an open seat further away from the dance floor.

"I'm working." He slurs, smiling up at you.

"Mhmm, doesn't look like you're working," you trail off, "what's your name?"

"Danny. After work fun."

"Ahh," you hum, "okay, understandable. I'm going to get you some water, okay? Did you come here with friends?"

"No. Was actually planning on making some friends." He laughs, and it makes you chortle as well.

"Miami is not the place to make friends Danny." You informed. "Stay here, I'm going to grab that water."

You saunter away, keeping an eye on the lean man as you approach the bar. You order a water, paying for the overpriced bottle with your Apple wallet, and quickly return to the drunken man. You don't know why you helped him; it was just in your nature to assist anyone you could.

Danny smiles up at you with an appreciative smile as you uncap the bottle for him, "Can you hold it, or do I have to give it to you?" You inquire.

"Give it to me, please."

You both break out into childish snickers at his words. "Easy there, buddy," you warn, tilting his chin up and directing the bottle to his mouth.

You pull it away, tightening the cap and placing it in front of him on the table. You then slide into the booth beside, "I'd feel better with myself if I stay with you for a while, just to make sure you're okay."

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, "Yeah, I get it; I'm so shitfaced right now."

It is quiet between the two of you for a while, you constantly reaching over to make sure he's hydrated and him smiling at you all dopey-like.

"You from here?" He asks as he starts to regain his sober mind.

You shake your head, "No, just moved here though."

"You can be my Miami friend." Danny grins.

"I'll probably never see you again after tonight, Mr Australia." You joke, nudging his shoulder with your own.

"I come here every year around this time." He announces. "Work."

"Work," you nod. "Right."

"Yes or no?" He prods.

"Have to see if you can hang; it doesn’t look like you can." You joke.

He scoffs, leaning away and eyeing you. "Please, I am a good time, the best time."

"Sir, I've just met you, and I'm taking care of your drunk ass." You cackle.

"How about this, stick with me for the rest of the night, and if we have a blast, every time I'm in Miami, you ride with me."

"You're going to get white girl wasted every time?" You inquire with a raised brow, and he laughs hard.

"Probably."

It was safe to say that Daniel was a blast. Even if he did party like a fratboy, you enjoyed his company. He gave you the energy of a teenage coming-of-age movie, doing whatever and saying whatever with his friends. It was a connection you hadn't experienced before.

And you enjoyed it, you liked spending time with your Australian friend. Which is how you ended up meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton six years later.

Lewis didn't know why he allowed his enthusiastic coworker to convince him to spend a night in Miami with him. The only solace he found in the situation was knowing that he wasn't the only driver there. Everyone was there, in a section booked by no one other than Daniel Ric himself.

It was nice for sure, and Lewis was curious as to how Daniel, of all people, knew so much about the lively city of Miami and their restless nightlife.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Lewis, just felt out of place a little bit, without his usual crew.

"Hey Guys, I'll be back in a second, I'm going to grab my friend."

Lewis rolls his eyes taking another sip from his glass.

He doesn't know who he was expecting, a Ken doll, a high-energy frat boy like Daniel, or even a valley girl with a high-pitched voice. This was Miami, so logically his smartest anticipation would be a surgery-riddled Kim Kardashian lookalike. But not you, Lewis would never expected you to enter the section, arm wrapped around Daniel's waist as you cackle at whatever nonsense leaves his mouth.

He is instantly intrigued, his phone being powered off and stuffed into his hoodie pocket.

You were beautiful with your rich complexion and beaming grin as he walked you down the line introducing you one by one.

His eyes never leave you as he watches you interact with everyone. You cloud his vision as you get closer. His eyes trace your hair and flow down to your brows and your alluring eyes. His view travels down your nose and lingers on your spread lips. And he physically lets out a sigh as he traces over your body.

You would drive him mad. He knows it.

-

As you take the time to introduce yourself to Danny's coworkers, you aren't surprised to see, well, to make it short, people who are not of your crowd.

But to your surprise, they're all friendly and welcoming. You're not surprised to see that you have met some of them before on your trips with Daniel or when you fly out to see him.

When you reach the end of the line you see him and your confidence falters as your eyes meet his. You should've known by the way his eyes were drinking you in that he'd be a problem.

With conviction, you approach him, bearing a sly smirk on your face.

"I'm y/n." You declared, and Lewis returned the same decency.

"I'm Lewis."

Your hands meet in the middle and he has a soft grip on you, refusing to let go.

"What's a girl like you doing with Daniel."

"He's my friend." You reply.

"Just a friend?"

"Just a friend." You confirm, and the way he looked at you through his fluffy lashes was evidence enough of what was to come between the two of you.

-

Lewis wasn't all that the media portrayed him to be. He wasn't overly confident or carefree. He actually worried a lot and was stressed a lot.

You knew that he felt like he had something to prove. You met him at his peak, and even now, when he feels like he's at the worst in his career, you're still here.

"So you're going to leave?" You hum, rubbing your fingers through his parts.

"Do you think I should?"

He looks so stressed out that is it has your heart is aching for him.

He's slumped like a kid in your lap with his face set in a frown. "I think that if you're unhappy and there are ways that you feel can change that, that you should look for something new, yes."

"Did you mean what you said last time?"

You think back to the last time you were in his presence, how he had gotten drunk for the first time in years. You wince internally as you recall how you had to nurse him back to health that night, how he cried like a baby when he mentioned how alone he felt at Mercedes. Lewis Hamilton wasn't used to being an afterthought.

"Yes, I don't think they appreciate you, Lewis. I don't think they are valuing your feedback or honoring your talent. I think they are making you miserable." You confess. "There are so many other teams that would love to have you, who would fight for you to reclaim your eighth. I don't think you should keep going through this with that team. Look at how they have you."

"Is your favorite team still Ferrari?" He opens his eyes and stares up at you.

"Duh,"

When you first met Daniel, you had only heard of the sport, but as time went on, he fully immersed you into the world of Formula One. You quickly took a liking to the red team and its intricate history in the sport. When you met Lewis in 2018, he was shocked that you knew so much about them (and barely anything about him).

"Don't tell me you're considering Ferrari, Sir Hamilton." You grin and he only smirks up at you.

"We'll see."

-

After the eventful first night you had spent with Lewis nearly six years ago, Miami has become a frequent destination of his. And New York of yours. The two of you guys had a chemistry unlike any other, every night filled with breathless pants and chants of each other's names. It was electric and erotic all at the same time.

You were fully aware that you and Lewis weren't necessarily together.

You were fun for him and him for you.

It was a mutual agreement, a bond strictly built from the amazing sex that the two of you had together.

You were aware that when the time came for Lewis to settle down and spend the rest of his life together it probably wouldn't be with you. You had believed you'd come to terms with the fact. But the idea of you two being together in the future still lingered in the back of your mind.

But as you scroll through Twitter, images and small clips of Lewis walking hand in hand with a Brazilian model have your heart tightening.

It wasn't like Lewis hadn't given you that false hope of a relationship, because you'd like to think that all of those little small things were him giving in. Surrendering that stupid ideology of his that made him believe he was a permanent bachelor.

You'd been by his side and in his bed over and over again for the last six years. And you’d be doing the same again tonight.

You almost feel grimy, sitting and waiting for him in his hotel room as he takes another woman out on a date, but a part of you knows that you’d accept anything from Lewis. You had standards and you had morals, but for a man like him, you always seem to throw them all out of the window.

Your phone vibrates and pings as your social media erupts in a frenzy.

That was another thing that had your mind in shambles right now.

How open he was when it came to you.

How quick he was to show you to the public, none of his other flings had gotten that opportunity, well until whoever this chick was.

Before you, Lewis hadn't introduced his "fun times" to his friends or even bothered to take any of them to the track.

That was something reserved only for you, though, you feel sort of naive, watching the tan and leggy woman prance around hand in hand with Lewis as he leaves the paddock.

You feel like you're stuck at the crossroads as you wait for Lewis to return.

He'd flown you out here partly because he claimed he missed you so much and the other half because of how much of a hard time you'd been having with your life in general.

Lewis was also a sort of saving grace for you, when you were with him, none of your other problems mattered. So you were quick to accept his invitation.

You'd never have accepted if you knew that he'd be playing a cruel game with you like this.

When the door creaks open and he emerges with a happy grin on his face, and bags filled to the brim with what you know are gifts for you, you can only grimace. Your attempt at a smile seems good enough for him as he approaches you and places a sudden kiss on your head.

"Hey love," He smiles, "I've got some gifts for you, yeah, knew you'd need a pick me up."

And you can't help to wonder if you'd needed the pick me up from his actions or what had transpired within this last week which was the sole purpose of you going to see him.

"I'm going to wash up, really fast, yeah? And then it'll be me and you tonight."

You say nothing as he places the bags at your feet and rushes into the bathroom.

You don't move, but you allow your eyes to skim through the bags and sigh as you see just how much he spent on you.

You had gone and done it.

Gone and made some glorified elaborate fairytale out of a man, who'd only treasured your body and in return showered you with gifts.

You laugh at yourself as your hand comes up to palm at your forehead.

You were his goddamn sugar baby, not the kind of woman he'd settle down with.

You feel even more stupid at the realization, that all of the nights you'd lay with him and console him after giving him your body were not as you had made them out to be.

It wasn't romantic, it was transactional. Those nights where you offered Lewis emotional solace always came with a hefty reward the next morning.

And now, you feel tainted, knowing that all it took was a simple call of your name for you to come flying to him and land in his bed, wrapped around his body.

You found Lewis in his prime and stuck by his side through his decline. You comforted him throughout his entire descent down the totem pole. Helped him out of that broken place, and gave him reassurance and something to look forward to.

You treasured this man.

Put him on top, time and time again, when he would leave you feeling used after your time together. And if it was up to you, you'd probably continue this cycle. Giving him your all and getting nothing in return.

You really wanted him, you wanted him to want you, which is why you were fine with keeping his bed warm, at least he wanted you in some kind of way, craved you even if it wasn't the way you wished to be desired.

When he emerges from the steamy bathroom, body clad only in a pair of briefs and his body soft and glowing, you swallow back all of your thoughts allowing yourself to take him in.

He nestles beside you on the bed, taking one of your hands in his, "everything okay?"

You can only push out a meek "yeah."

And the night goes on as planned.

The dim light of dusk spills through the blinds of the grand hotel room, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. You sit against the headboard, The melancholic melody of the empty night mirrors the turmoil in your heart.

Six years ago, you met Lewis at a nightclub, your paths crossing in a haze of neon lights and pulsing music. He was charming and mysterious, with eyes that held secrets and a smile that promised adventure. Your connection was instantaneous, a spark that quickly grew into an all-consuming flame. You spent endless nights talking, laughing, and dreaming about a future together. Well at least on your end.

But as the years passed, you began to notice the cracks in your seemingly perfect world. Lewis' past as a bachelor was a shadow that loomed over your situationship, a constant reminder of the freeness he carried within him. He would disappear for days on end with no communication, leaving you in a state of anxious uncertainty, your mind racing with thoughts of where he might be and who he might be with. Yet, you had no right to concern yourself with these sorts of things.

As you lay in bed, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you, you find the courage to ask, "Lewis, do you love me?" His silence is deafening, and the look in his eyes speaks of a love that is nonexistent, a love that is more of a need for you than a want.

"I care about you," he finally whispers, his voice tinged with regret. "But my heart belongs to someone else. I’m sorry."

Your world shatters at that moment, the pieces of your heart shattering like broken glass. You know you have to let him go, to find a way to heal from the pain of a love that was never truly yours.

You realize that you have been holding on to a love that was destined to fade, a love that has left you feeling empty and lost.

You deserve a love that is real and true.

He’s like medicine, he makes you feel good and at the same time, he’s like poison, running through your system and finding a new part of you to sicken. Lewis is a walking contradiction, you don’t know if he’s helping you or hurting you, if he loves you, or if he hates you. Surely, he hates you, why else would he be okay with making you feel like this?

And as the city lights flicker on, you vow to never lose yourself again.

You shouldn't ask, because you know you can't bear the weight of his answer but you do.

"The woman from earlier?"

He sighs, his response weak, "Yes."

"So no more us? Right?"

"I think this is the last time." He admits and you swallow back your tears.

"Okay."

"I still want to be your friend."

"We were never friends Lewis, and we're not going to be friends after this."

Lewis swallows, sitting up to catch your gaze through the darkness.

For years, you and Lewis had maintained a delicate balance, a friends-with-benefits arrangement that allowed you both to keep things uncomplicated. You cherished the intimacy, the shared moments of laughter, the comfort of his presence. But deep down, you always knew that this arrangement had an expiration date, an inevitable end that you tried not to think about.

And now, that end has arrived. Lewis has fallen in love with someone else. You can only turn away from him.

You stand up, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. You begin to gather your clothes, each movement mechanical, your mind numb with the reality of it all. You glance around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings that now feel foreign and distant.

As you pull on your jacket, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are filled with unshed tears, your expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. You know that this is the moment you have to let go, to walk away from a love that was never truly yours.

You think it's kind of ironic.

How you'd been there for Lewis, and when you needed him most, he's leaving you behind.

"Do you love me?" Lewis' voice echoes from his place on the bed.

"No." You lie. "It was fun, was fun being a pit stop for you." You chuckle.

"It wasn't like that-"

"No, it's fine, we weren't anything, you fucked me and brought me gifts in return, I ate that up, that's all. I knew I was only here until you made up your mind, I'm happy you did."

You had a tendency to become a bitch when you were hurt and you knew that your words were low blows, but your pride was too hard for you to allow Lewis to see himself affect you in real time.

In reality, you'd hoped that if the unfortunate and impending doom would occur, that Lewis would have the decency to allow you to fall out of love with him first.

Then it wouldn't hurt.

You knew what the arrangement was, you knew that you and Lewis were technically nothing and you always thought that when the day came for him to finally leave you, you'd be fine. You'd feel nothing. But you do.

It feels like when that one character who doesn't care about dying has a sudden brush with death, how almost dying rids you of every sane thought you have, a person who fears nothing all of a sudden fears death, fears everything.

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but losing, could you even say losing Lewis? 

Being left by Lewis feels terrible, being left by him feels scary, like everything you knew before was not as it seems. 

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but you feel everything you thought you never would.

And in the end, you still wanted him to stay. You wanted him to choose you. Even if he didn't want you.

here you go babes @greedyjudge2 !! I'm sorry it took so long <3

part two in the future fs.

[phantlvs]

Dabi / Touya Todoroki | Brother of Mine

Phantom Notes | PLATONIC, more fem!reader, visiting Dabi in hospital, Dabi survived, Todoroki reader, reader is younger than Shoto, just roll with stuff that doesn’t necessarily make sense, I’m not at all caught up in mha

Fuyumi sighed, watching you, “Please, be careful..” Her voice was soft. She wasn’t planning to stop you. She knew she couldn’t. You were stubborn. A trait almost all of her sibling had.

You looked over your shoulder at her, a soft smile reaching your lips after a moment when you turned to look at her, “Don’t worry, Yumi. I’ll be fine.” You told her.

Fuyumi sighed again, reaching out to grab your hand when you offered it to her. You held her hand for a moment before letting it slip out of her grip and exiting the home that was never truly a home.

Fuyumi was the only thing that made it a home for you.

Fuyumi was the only sense of stability you had.

Your mother was in the mental hospital for a majority of your life before of Endeavor. Shoto was always training with him. You’d see him crying a lot. And honestly, you were jealous when UA implemented dorms. He was able to get out.

But you were only a year younger than him. Too young to go to UA yet.

You looked at your phone when it buzzed.

> Yumi (7:23 am): Be. Careful.

You rolled your eyes, putting your phone away and looking across from you where you sat on the bus.

“Mama,” a little girl pulled on her mother’s sleeve, “Mama.”

“What?” Her mother looked down at the girl.

“Want ice cream.” The little girl told her.

The mother looked down at her for a moment before a soft smile came to her face, “Alright. We can get some ice cream.”

You watched the two. You hated moments like these. Moments when your attention would move to fathers and/or mother with their children. Fathers and mothers who loved their kids. Who would do anything for them.

Mothers who weren’t abused. Fathers who weren’t abusers.

You were jealous. Even if you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

The bus came to a stop. You stood from your seat, staying a moment to help an elderly woman just getting on sit down where you had sat.

You looked up at the hospital. No doubt bustling inside.

“Hello,” the woman greeted you.

“Hi.” You gave her a soft smile.

“Will you be visiting today?” She asked, clicking a few buttons on the computer before moving to grab a piece of paper and a clip board.

“Yeah, I will.” You told her, taking the clipboard and pen out of her hand.

“That’s nice,” she smiled. She looked sweet. “What’s your name and who will you be visiting?”

“My name is Y/n Todoroki, and. Um..” You hesitated for a moment. You had never said his name before. “I’ll be visiting Touya.. Todoroki..” Hour voice was soft. But she heard it.

You knew she did. Her eyes widened and lips fell agape as she stared at you. “Alright just.. Fill out the paper there.” She told you, trying to keep the shock off of her face. She was unsuccessful.

You nodded, moving over in case anyone else were to come in.

You scribbled down your name, your age, your quirk. And you paused over name of who your visiting and their information.

‘How do I know him?’ You said your yourself in your head. It was a checklist. You could check off how you knew them.

⬜️ Father

⬜️ Mother

⬜️ Brother

⬜️ Sister

⬜️ Friend

⬜️ Other

Your hand froze over the ‘brother.’ Could you even call him that? You were born after he ‘died.’ You never knew him apart from any story Fuyumi told you. Natsuo would avoid the topic any chance he got.

You scribbled in the box, handing the paper over to the woman at the desk.

“Okay, um..” she looked over the paper. “5th floor, room 538.” She told you, giving you a glance.

“Okay, thank you.” You told her, giving a soft smile she reciprocated before you moved to walk away.

You stood quietly in the elevator, clicking buttons people who would get on asked for.

“Papa,” your gaze moved to the little boy holding on to his father’s hand. His father hummed. “Will mama be okay?” Your heart practically broke as you listened silently.

“Yeah..” The father responded after a moment, “She’ll be fine..” His voice was quiet, as if he was trying to convince himself too.

The ding of the elevator set off. You looked up to see what floor it was. 5.

You felt a pit of anxiety grow in your stomach. Like a weed in a garden. You let out a soft breath as you moved forward, exiting the elevator.

The floor was quiet for the most part. You listened to the sound of your shoes as you walked. Looking into some rooms as you passed.

503.

504.

You looked down at the floor.

515.

516.

517.

518.

You let out a shaky breath, looking at your feet again.

528.

529.

530.

You flexed your hands. Clenching them and unclenching them. Popping your fingers.

536.

537.

538.

You froze in front of the room. Staring at the number. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. The door was cracked open, but not enough you could see anything or anyone.

You shuffled a foot moved, going to knock on the door but hesitating.

You shook your head gently. Trying to shake out your nerves which didn’t work.

Your fist settled on the door a few times in a soft knock. At least just trying to make anyone aware you were about to come in.

You pushed the door open gently and slowly. Almost cautiously. Almost fearfully.

You peeked in when you could see more, you saw him in bed.

You could tell how much pain he was in.

His eyes were just barely open. His gaze settled over at the door.

You pushed the door open a bit farther, moving just a bit into the room so he could see you a bit better and you could see him a bit better.

He stared.

You averted your gaze to the floor.

“Who in the hell are you?” His voice was hoarse.

“I..” you looked up at him quickly, almost startled. “I’m um..” you let out a soft breath. “Y/n Todoroki.”

You almost saw what you assumed might be shock.

“I um..” you weren’t sure what to say. You probably planned out some like.. speech or something.

“Well you’ve grown up.” His voice broke your thoughts.

“What..?” You asked softly.

“You’ve grown.” He said, voice quieter.

You moved out of the doorway and a little farther into the hospital room.

“You look like mom.” He said abruptly.

You paused, staring at him for a moment.

In truth, you looked a lot like Fuyumi too. But the red in your hair was more scattered around, at your roots, the middle, and the tips.

You inherited your mom’s gray eyes too.

“You think..?” You asked softly. Almost awkwardly. You fidgeted with your hands at your front.

“Yeah..” He spoke, his gaze traveling over your face. “Especially the eyes.”

You looked down at your hands for a quick moment.

“You can see your emotions in your eyes.” He said, “Just like mom.”

You moved to grab a chair, moving it closer to the side of his bed before you sat down.

“How..” you looked at him. “How is she?” He asked, voice still hoarse. You stared at him for a moment.

“She’s.. She’s well.” You told him with a curt nod. “She was finally released from the Psychiatric ward. Just a little while before..” You paused.

“The war.” He finished your sentence.

“Yeah..” Your voice was quiet.

A silence fell over the room. One that wasn’t so uncomfortable, but very awkward for you.

“Why are you here?” He asked bluntly.

“I..” you looked at him. “I just..” you looked down for a moment. You took in a breath, calming yourself down.

You were alone a lot. Being the youngest in the Todoroki family was undoubtedly hard. Not as hard as being any of the oldest, but..

You were pushed to the side. Endeavor had gotten the quirk he wanted out of Shoto and he put all of his attention and time and effort into Shoto. He didn’t care about you.

Natsuo was always trying to get away from the house. Rei was in the Psychiatric Ward a majority of your life.

Fuyumi was all you had. She took it upon herself to raise you.

“I’m in your debt Fuyumi,” you told your older sister.

“Huh!” She looked at you, almost startled. “What! Don’t even say that!”

“You raised me, that wasn’t your job, Yumi.” You told her, “therefore, I am in your debt!”

“I was just worried about you.” You finally said.

“Worried..?” He repeated, looking over at you. “You don’t know me.”

“I’m sorry for what Endeavor did..” You told him abruptly, looking down.

“Don’t apologize for that asshole,” he told you.

“I’m not apologizing for him,” you said. “I’m apologizing for what you had to go through.”

He was at a loss for words as he stared at you. You were stubborn. It was so easy to tell.

You were stubborn like him and Natsuo.

But the care in your eyes.. that was undoubtedly like Fuyumi’s.

That’s a dangerous combination. The stubbornness of him and Natsuo and the caring kindness of Fuyumi.

He let out a huff. “What’s your quirk?”

“Scalding Frost.” You told him, “I can create a frost like mom’s, but it’s all incredibly hot so the frost melts almost instantly. But I can control the hot water once it melts.”

“Hm..” he hummed.

You sat in the quiet for awhile. You staring down at your fidgeting hands, him stuck in his thoughts while staring at the plain ceiling.

You looked Rei. You had her eyes you could see every emotion in. You could see all the care, all the worry.

He saw it immediately when you had peeked into the hospital room.

“You give Endeavor hell?” He asked abruptly.

“Huh?” You looked at him before getting what he meant, “Oh!” You practically lit up. “Mhm, mhm,” you hummed while nodding your head. “I can’t give him hell like Natsuo or Shoto. But I give him the cold shoulder a lot!”

“Heh,” a lazy smirk of amusement came reached his lips, “good.”

Your eyes widened slightly. He looked. Almost proud.. Proud that you would give your so called father the cold shoulder.

Your heart warmed.

He was.. Proud. Proud of you. You..

“I should probably get going!” You stood up abruptly.

He looked at you.

“I’ll try to visit again tomorrow,” you promised, looking at him.

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved you off.

“No,” He looked at you, “I’m going to visit again tomorrow!” You told him stubbornly. “I just have training, but I’ll visit after that!”

@phantlvs

[manikas-whims]

how Zayne from Love and Deepspace will react when he finds out you're on your period..

You get a call from the Akso Hospital and are suddenly requested to pay a visit.

You don't understand what's happening but leave your work desk all the same.

The moment you arrive and speak to the receptionist, she informs that you have a check-up scheduled with Dr. Zayne for today.

You're slightly surprised and confused because despite being a little messy, you do keep up with your own schedule, and you clearly don't remember having any such check-ups.

Regardless, you head towards Zayne’s office.

[moments later]

You give a knock on the door to announce your arrival before walking in.

Zayne is already putting down the documents in his hands and by the time you reach his desk, he's scrutinizing you, as if searching for any signs of something off with you.

“What is it?” You ask in frustration. There's a load of mission reports waiting at your work desk that you need to finish and submit this week, and frankly you don't have much time right now.

Zayne merely raises a brow as if offended by your curt tone.

“Sit.” He commands.

You deliberately sigh loudly before taking a seat. “I don't have any check-ups today, Zayne. Why did you call me?”

“Correct me if I am wrong but it must be the second day of your menstrual cycle?” He states so calmly as if making an absurd remark about the weather.

You're quite mortified for a moment. But then mortification is replaced by annoyance. Doctor or not, your periods are your problem and Zayne isn't supposed to comment on how you deal with them.

You narrow your eyes at him. “That’s..none of your business.”

“It is since your captain called up.” Zayne supplies calmly.

“Jenna?” You're confused. Why would she?

“She informed me about your not so peaceful conversation with a guy from the Data Analysis Department.” He speaks, his lips slowly curving up into a smirk.

“Nero was the one who wouldn't shut up!” You tell him.

“And she also informed me how you choked the life out of your coffee mug using your evol. That's a misconduct if I've ever heard of it.”

Okay misusing your evol wasn't exactly right. But crumbling your mug with it did help with the stomach cramps. Even if just a teensy bit.

By this point you’re gripping the armrests of the chair a little too tightly. His knowing smirk isn't helping either. Combining all that with your mood swings enrages you even more.

But before you can lash out at him. Give him the same treatment you gave Nero and your coffee mug. Say something that you'll definitely regret later on, he leaves his chair and comes to stand right in front of you.

“Take the rest of the day off.” He says. Neither a friendly suggestion nor a doctor's advice. Just an outright order. And you don't like that.

“I can’t. I have reports to finish.”

He sighs before fishing something out from one of his desk drawers. Then, he pours a glass of water and comes back to you, offering the said glass along with a pill in his other hand.

You immediately recognize the painkiller and shake your head. “I don't take those.”

“You should.” He says emphatically, nudging the items towards you.

“Absolutely not!” You feel your voice crack a little. You have a lot of work left to do. You really need to get going.

But Zayne isn't deterred by your words. He steps even closer, and speaks in a softer tone. The same one that he uses only on rare occasions. When he's being earnest to you.

“Not taking the painkillers doesn't make you stronger than the rest of the women in the world.” He puts the glass in your hand, and offers the pill again. “You must acknowledge your pain, and work to overcome it in the most efficient ways.”

You bite your lip because he's only being reasonable. You must look like an absolute brat to him.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out a little shaky from holding back your tears as you accept the pill and swallow it.

“Good girl.” He pats your head. “Now let’s get you home.”

You agree to take the remaining day off but he doesn’t need to waste anymore time on you. He must realize that he has his own share of work to do. And you are a responsible adult. You can’t always rely on him. You can do things on your own despite the hardships.

“I can go by myself.” You mumble.

“I know. But let me help. I have the right to help you.”

“You have the right to?” Once more, annoyance begins flaring up in your head. “On what account? Being my personal physician!?”

He smiles softly. Genuinely. “On account of being your friend.”

His admission stuns you into silence and you avert your gaze.

How can he be so kind? He's being so unfair! Now you look even worse of a brat.

You feel ashamed for behaving the way you did.

“Come on.” He beckons, offering a hand.

You hesitate for a moment before putting your own palm into his bigger one.

His fingers curl around your wrist instead and he tugs you forward, helping you stand, his arm now coming to wrap around your shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

He's already directing you out of the room and locking its door when you murmur. “Zayne?”

“What is it?” He asks as he tucks away his glasses into the pocket of his coat.

“Sorry for getting mad at you.”

He scoffs. “It’s understandable in your current predicament.”

You watch him fish out his car keys and speak again. “No seriously. Thank you for everything you do. You're more than just a friend.”

He cocks his head to the side but you still catch him smiling wide this time. “The feeling is mutual.”

Here it is! Hope y'all like it. I'm still new to writing for Love and Deepspace so bear with me 🥹

Rafayel version coming soon!

AND THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

=» Love and Deepspace Masterlist «=

[clustxr]

hi y'all. i know i don't make a lot of original posts here. however, on may 31st, i watched as my friends and peers were brutalized at the hands of cops from departments across california.

uc santa cruz police made a statewide call for mutual aid in order to disband the gaza solidarity encampment located at the main entrance of the campus - initially established at the quarry in the center of campus on may 1, it moved to the entrance on may 20 in solidarity with the UAW strike. on tuesday, may 28, protesters barricaded the main entrance, cutting off the primary way of getting on campus; though the western entrance to UCSC was left unblocked (except for a few hours on tuesday), the main entrance remained obstructed until the raid began late on thursday night. this road blockage is what admin cited as the reason for the raid, along with "campus safety" and "academic freedom".

it's important to note that prior to blocking the road, students had been encamped for 28 days, and had been holding peaceful, law-abiding rallies since october. nothing worked. months of following the guidelines that admin had set, and of course student voices were dismissed and ignored by chancellor cynthia larive and cpevc lori kletzer (the latter of whom, by the way, showed up at 6 am "walking her dog" and smiled while watching her students get suffocated and beaten). the escalation would never have happened if student demands had been met at the very beginning.

hundreds of cops in riot gear from as far out as uc davis showed up to abuse students. over 115 arrests were made, including 3 ucsc professors, transported off by buses that were fifteen years past their intended end-of-use date and had also been servicing the campus prior. is this "campus safety"? is this "academic freedom"?

from just before midnight until approximately 9am on friday, cops kettled, suffocated, shoved, yanked, beat, and bruised students. one got a battery charge for writhing and bumping a cop after another slammed him in the head with a baton. another had a bag placed over their head, leading to suffocation, vomiting, and loss of consciousness. at least two protesters were confirmed to go to the ER that morning; many more have had to seek medical attention for lasting injuries.

arrestees were given a 14-day campus ban, including those who live on-campus (functionally evicting them & preventing access to their belongings), not to mention subjected to horrifyingly inhumane conditions:

you can find more information on various instagram accounts such as ucscsjp, ucscdivest, fjpucsc, ucsc_encampment, & jawsucsc. there's plenty of other organizations and people posting about this, too. please, don't let ucsc brush this under the rug. demand amnesty for the arrestees and protesters. contact any ucsc admin you can find. the uc has been utilizing police brutality to repress student voices across their institution, with ucla and uc irvine also being victims of this violence. do not let them get away with it.

free palestine, from the river to the sea. if seeing this violence sickens you, remember that this is not even a fraction of what the people of palestine have been enduring for decades. we will not let the university silence us, no matter what.

[kaelidascope]

Fandom and LGBTQ Hostility and My Experiences Trying to Exist in Both Spaces Online

I came into these spaces with a very strict rule that I would not react or do anything cancel-worthy out of an overabundance of caution. Digital footprints are dangerous. The things you say online will follow you around forever. I know that first hand. I’ve bottled up and stayed silent about a lot of things I’ve either witnessed first-hand or experienced because I was trying to maintain a clean online persona. I’m not an ‘airing out dirty laundry’ type person. 

In light of recent events however, it’s gotten so bad that I can no longer sit here and not say something about how I feel. I’m disappointed and frustrated with the experiences I’ve had both in fandom and LGBTQ+ spaces and I can’t be complacent. I’m tired of getting treated like this, I’m fed up and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. I feel it’s important I voice what I’ve been watching and what’s happened and how I’m not going to tolerate it anymore by calling it out first hand. 

This is a two-topic rant. They overlap in some instances, but it directly has to do with how fandoms behave in general towards each other on Twitter and Tumblr, and also how absolutely hostile LGBTQ+ individuals are nowadays to each other on the same platforms. 

I come from a different generation and a different social media platform. I wasn’t on Twitter and Tumblr until last year. I’m not dismissing the fact that I may have missed out on decades worth of culture and social expectation. The places where I come from aren’t exactly fantastic either, but at least here, more queer people are interacting with each other with shared interests much more widely than in places like DeviantArt. The amount of culture and information I’ve absorbed in one year is more than I ever had within the past twenty years. It should be a good thing, and I’m disappointed that it wasn’t. 

This is not the way I wanted to come out online to anyone. I’ve been figuring out where I sit on the gender and sexuality spectrum for a while now. I will not document a specific timeline for anyone because that’s nobody’s business but my own. Within the last year, I took a massive stride forward in exploring things I legally didn’t think I was allowed to. I expected backlash from cishets and the usual thing I see LGBTQ+ folks write essays over, about how the world hates us, but at least we have each other. Shockingly, the backlash didn’t come from straight people. It came from other queers. 

I am 27 years old and I am entirely self-sufficient. I’m mixed Puerto Rican living in a red state. English wasn’t even my first language. I don’t have a network, so I’m teaching myself these things. I'm asking questions. I'm reading materials and expressions of self-experience and self-identity through fanworks and other autobiographical content. I'm actively trying to seek community and support through transgender and non-binary individuals with shared interests and so far all I've been met with is hostility and assumptions. So much so that I've now been made to feel like I'm on a timeline to figure it out so I can have a well-practiced, short introduction to copy and paste to every person who comes across me. And the only reason I even need one is so that they can make the decision to pass judgement over whether or not I'm allowed to speak, write, draw, wear, act, breathe the things I do. I'm disappointed. I'm anxious. I honestly feel more shoved into the closet now than I ever did before and I shouldn't be. Nobody should be treated this way when trying to figure out who they are. I probably won't even get an apology for the things that were said to me, either. I pride myself on the extraordinary caution I take to be politically correct, vetted through reputable sources, and as close to authentic as possible. And yet somehow I’m still getting called things like terf, transmisogynistic, triggering, when I’m fucking trans myself and all of my content gets vetted/REQUESTED by trans individuals. I get promised up and down that people are kind and welcoming in these sorts of spaces and honey, they aren’t. The people you choose to be friends with aren't as inclusive and friendly as you think they are. You don’t even know me and what body parts I have. The fact that you need to know in order to decide whether or not to treat me with respect is telling of an internal issue that has nothing to do with me. 

I have no reference point. I live in a place where laws ban anything gender and trans. I have no local resources or community. I've barely met any LGBTQ people in person. If I have, they never came out publicly. Most of my queer exposure has been online, and the fact that I've seen nothing but angry, mean, exclusive and discriminating behavior without any sort of reasoning why other than selfish defensiveness, I don't know where else I'm supposed to go for support. Something a lot of you guys need to take into retrospect is anyone who identifies as LGBTQ gets shot where I live. We have sundown towns here. If you don’t even know what that is, good, but also that’s telling of your privilege that you need to consider when talking to others not from blue states. I didn’t grow up in an environment where we had these highly liberal culture points and the word ‘gay’ was never allowed to be said out loud. We did not have gay clubs in school. I'm about as fucking late to this as you possibly can get. The only reason I know anything about our history, representation, and barely anything about what's socially acceptable and what's not, is because of the internet. So many of you had the privilege of being exposed to this information as young as under the age of 10. I didn’t. Sue me for not immediately knowing what every gender label means right off the bat. Half that stuff isn’t even legal here. 

I can't believe it's boiled down to the fact that I have to somehow justify my existence on this Earth and give an explanation that fits into predetermined boxes just to do anything to engage with other people. I have no time or space to figure it out. I’m disorganized and overwhelmed because I can’t ask questions about ‘can butches do this?’ ‘How versatile is transmasc/transfem?’ ‘Am I more genderqueer or do I fit under the trans umbrella?’ Gender and identity is fluid and ever changing. I have actually seen people harp and attack individuals for "defaulting" or "detransitioning" when they change their mind after giving this big coming out speech. It’s like support on these platforms is entirely conditional and a one-time thing. Y'all really expect people to wear the first style of shirt they buy for the rest of their life? Are we not allowed to do anything unless we know for sure? How’s college working out for you, for those who believe this mindset?

The vocally aggressive ones who use big words that contradict their statements can do, say, and be whatever they want.  But people like me can't. The ones who have to straight pass in public to keep their jobs and maintain their life safely. Some of us have been on our own since 19 with no family support. Consider the environment someone lives in before assigning your harsh assumptions. I can’t just change myself on a whim without doing significant damage control. Half the jobs I work for don’t even allow unnatural hair colors. If we list our pronouns as anything other than our assigned sex at birth, it causes legality issues with taxes. The way I have to navigate how to explore my identity and also keep a roof over my head and my bills paid may seem highly conservative to most. It’s in no way shape or form meant to reflect disrespect on how others live and express themselves. I am doing the best with the environment I have. The way I do things is not meant to be read as a message of ‘you’re doing it wrong because you’re not doing it the way I do.’ None of us are wrong. That should not be the subliminal message here. 

You know someone actually challenged me on that? Saying I was being harmful for purposefully straight presenting in public? Please research your country and state specific laws before you say that to me. If I could afford to live somewhere safer and queer-friendly, this conversation would be different. I am working on getting the fuck out of this state. But I don’t have a partner or parents money to default on. I’m doing this by myself. It’s not impossible, just a slow process. 

I'm disappointed and fed up. I've reached my limit, and I don't really care anymore if someone uses this essay to try and cancel me 5 or 10 years from now when the world goes through another gender renaissance of terms and identities. I will not put up with being treated like this when you refuse to listen to anyone else other than the sound of your own voice. I’m trying my best to learn, adapt, and express myself. I do not need to be lectured or be called derogatory things just because you think I’m coming from a malicious place.  

It’s not just about the hostility and gate-keeping behavior exhibited in online queer spaces. The same exact thing happens in fandom spaces too. People get pissy about queer headcanons and presentations so much to the point of taking it upon themselves to police the fandom and scrub it clean of “impurities.” I’ve watched y’all go through people's social media pages for any type of ammunition for justification of a personal grievance. It shocks me how much hyperfixation gets put on specific and morally harmless things when there are people out there writing diabolical shit way worse than what I have to offer. And y’all happily support them too but bark at me about what I make cus that author fits your social criteria and you assumed I didn’t. Don't think I'm ignorant to every single scrap of hate mail and harassment I've gotten over the past year and a half in my inboxes. Including the passive aggressive posts about my work, vague tweets, and discussions about me in discord servers. Over what? Have you actually read my work? If it’s actually as problematic as you say it is, provide me with a modern and unbiased example why this particular scene and execution is harmful. And not because you got triggered or disliked the kink, or read the summary/tags and assumed it was something it’s not. I don’t know how much more caution tape, massive warnings, obvious clear-cut tags (that were provided to me by queer individuals to PUT on there in the first place) out of insane amounts of caution I can do. I have always been willing to provide spoilers and explicit details in case someone is unsure how they’ll be affected by something I make. If you already don’t like it based on my warnings, that’s always been more than okay! My work is not for everyone. I’m getting tired of politely and respectfully saying please move on, because the message seems to be getting lost in translation. So let me be clear; 

Get off my pages if you don’t like what I make. It’s not for you. It will never be for you. Dead dove. DO NOT EAT. PREFERRED DEMOGRAPHIC 25+ ADULT CONTENT RATED E FOR EXPLICIT. I can recommend so many other fantastic creators with better suited content for you! If I could hide my content behind a roped off section deliberately keeping you from seeing it, I would. BLOCK ME. 

If your response to this section is ‘well then just don’t write it’. Honey, there’s people out here in the RWBY fandom writing trans incest actively commenting on all your shit and you respond back. A magic grimm-goo strap and monster smut featuring a transfem character (again, requested by literally 3 trans people and WRITTEN by one) should be the least of your worries. 

I have actively chosen not to address the harassment and hate mail, because it's sad that half of you hate me so much you need to make a point of telling me so regularly. I sincerely hope moving on with your lives will grant you peace of mind. Truly.

This is why I barely interact with anyone. Nothing but hostility, harassment, and expectation to behave in ways I cannot emotionally commit to. I am exhausted, uninspired, and have such a bad taste in my mouth it's proving extremely difficult to want to do anything creative. It’s been worse with my recent exploration of my gender identity. Opening one door to write about certain things somehow, miraculously, closes ones I previously existed in. I’m practically getting kicked out if I’m not 100% one way or another. I don’t go out of my way to shove my content down your throats. Why you feel the need to come to me and tell me you dislike my existence because you read it, despite me stating this is not for everyone and probably not for you, doesn’t have anything to do with me. Idk what else I can do. Disappear off the face of the planet, I guess. That seems to be what the overall solution is when y’all find something you don’t like. I can't believe I witnessed grown adults in their mid twenties with self-proclaimed senses of rightness start a trend on Twitter to go through people's mutuals and their likes to see if they’re socially acceptable in Fandom spaces or not. That was fucking ridiculous. And especially not fair to those who had their private accounts leaked and put on blast when it was already behind an vetted follower wall. Believe it or not, people draw weird, lewd, diabolical shit. They’re actually being responsible by putting it behind a paywall, or some type of ‘proof of age before following’ requirement. It falls on the people who go on there, take screenshots, and post them publicly for minors and non-consenting individuals to see without filters what was previously hidden. It’s irresponsible and immature. 

For fear of getting canceled by the Fandom, I moved all 600+ accounts I was following onto a private alt. I don't interact with my main anymore. I went so far into hiding and didn’t dare share anything about liking content made by people I wasn’t allowed to like, because that’s how cruel it is out here. It's honestly stupid I even felt like I had to do that. For what? People glazed over the brief moment of drama within a few weeks and went right back to posting the same shit they always have. They find new things to gossip about on their privs. New enemies to cancel on Twitter. New things to deem problematic and attack. 

I will be heard with this letter. I don’t care to be associated with anyone who treats people like this. I don’t believe in it, I won’t support it, and I’d rather have a small circle of people who won’t be rude or attack other people for existing. I’m not going to sit here and take the abuse any longer. Leave me in peace. There is no reason any of this should be happening. 

This is not meant to undermine the support I have gotten from the few who know what I'm going through and have given me the space to figure it out. I appreciate every question answered and insight provided as much as your abilities allow. I'm so grateful for it. I just wish it wasn't 2 people while everyone else is an asshole.

[burnthoneydrops]

A Shame Indeed (c.b. x fem!reader)

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: use of female descriptors (miss, young lady, etc)

a/n: Part II to this post for colin! also a continuation of this series! i hope you enjoy and a reminder that requests are open! (both in general and for my 200 celebration :)) )

The Bridgerton drawing room is a wonderful net for beautiful sunlight. At least, that is what you gather while sitting there early one morning, a few weeks into your new role as governess. No main member of the family is awake, just the staff that keep the house afloat. It is rather peaceful, and you are grateful for the moments of solitude away from your room where you have piles of old curtain fabric surrounding you. As you finish stitching two panels of a Hyacinth size dress together, there are footsteps traipsing down the carpeted floor, alerting you of someone else’s arrival. You’re quick to your feet, lest it be a Bridgerton and you appear disrespectful. Though you have gained their trust and appreciation, it still feels as though someone might pull you back out of this dream scenario at any second. 

“Ah, good morning Mr. Bridgerton,” you nod, smiling lightly as Colin appears in the doorway. 

“Good morning Miss Y/N. It is rather early is it not? Is Hyacinth even awake yet?” He asks, looking down the hallway before walking closer into the room. 

“Alas, she is not. I figured wasting time while awake rather silly, however, so here I am”.

“With…” he looks behind you, back at the couch, and his eyebrows raise in confusion as his head tilts to the side. 

“Oh, those are curtains that Mrs. Wilson was going to have thrown out. There was a stain on them, apparently, but I have yet to find it”. 

That does not seem to lessen Colin’s confusion. 

“And what exactly are you doing with them?” 

“Hyacinth has been begging to go to the modiste with Lady Bridgerton and Miss Bridgerton, but the focus is on those who need new dresses for the season. So, in the absence of the actual modiste, I figured I could stand in and make her a new dress. It is, however, a surprise so please do not tell her,” you look between him and the curtain, hoping you hadn’t just spoiled your plan. 

Instead of verbally responding, Colin drags his fingers in front of his lips and twists an imaginary key, signalling his sworn secrecy. You laugh quietly, before turning to sit back down with your work. Now that you no longer have to fear the undermining of your surprise, you are free to work on it in the open, or at least in front of Colin. As a member of staff passes, Colin orders tea and scones, muttering something about how if the two of you were going to stay awake you might have some fuel. One thing you have learned throughout your few weeks is Hyacinth and Gregory’s love for mischief is rivalled only by Colin’s love of food. You say nothing, choosing to politely nod in agreement instead as you create the puff sleeves of Hyacinth’s dress. The scones and tea are brought quickly, you assume already prepared. You don’t think it will ever fail to amaze you how on top of everything the people who run Bridgerton house are nor the fact that you are now a part of that. 

“Do you care for cream or jam first?” Colin breaks the silence, almost startling you. 

“Oh, um, do not feel obliged to offer me any Mr. Bridgerton”. 

“Colin, please. We did agree to get to know each other on more adult terms, did we not?” 

“Well, I suppose we did. But that does not remove anything in the series of respect and class differentials Mr. Bridgerton”. 

“Yes, but if I am insisting, and you work for my house, then you must listen to me. Yes?” He looks quite pleased with himself as he pours milk into his teacup. 

“Fine, Colin it is. But if anyone asks, you are to inform them of your wishes immediately. I will not have people thinking I disrespect this house voluntarily,”. 

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs, “now, cream or jam?”  

The conversation carries on easily enough between the two of you, and for a second you forget yourself. You forget that you are inside the previously terrifying Bridgerton home, making clothes out of old curtains and drinking tea with one of your employers. It feels easy, relaxed, and you wish that you could perpetually stay in this moment. The warm sun on your back is the same that makes Colin appear glowing, making his laugh even that more heavenly in appearance. You pause, internally slow blinking and hoping that you’re not physically translating that on your face. You did not just call Colin Bridgerton’s laugh heavenly, did you? You push the thought out of your mind, remembering there is no place for thoughts like that while doing your job. 

That is until Lady Bridgerton makes her way into the drawing room and pauses at the sight before her. You notice her before Colin does, standing at attention immediately, dropping the dress down on the couch beside you. Colin stands cooly, walking over to greet his mother with a soft hug and a light kiss on the cheek. You do not think you’ve seen him do anything with much more force than that since your arrival, and you wonder if he is that gentle with every person he meets. Quickly checking that train of thought and registering it unhelpful at this current moment in time, you look back solely at Lady Bridgerton, apologising for the possibility that you had any part in waking her. 

“Oh no, my dear, it was not you,” she reassures you, choosing not to question why she found her third eldest and her newest hire alone together, but rather allowing Colin to excuse himself with the claim that he is to meet his brothers for a round of fencing. “May I ask why you have some of our old curtains in your possession?” She asks instead, taking Colin’s previously occupied seat on the couch across from you. 

“Oh, Mrs. Wilson said they were to be thrown away and I couldn’t bear the waste of perfectly good fabric, so I fashioned Hyacinth a new dress,” you display the work you had completed during your conversation with the third Bridgerton boy, trying to be prideful but fearing the response all the same. 

“How thoughtful of you,” Lady Bridgerton smiles and you secretly sigh in relief. Though you had never pegged Lady Bridgerton to be cruel or patronising in any way, some of your previous employers had not been as kind, so you always secretly fear the worst. Your letters to your mother would describe as such, the growing anxiety that every well-to-do mama that you serve under will be exactly like the last. As much as you continually remind yourself that the Bridgertons are different, those thoughts do love to linger. 

The afternoon sun brings a welcome break to your lesson with Hyacinth, who immediately insisted on wearing her new dress when presented with it. She looks lovely wandering around the garden, running across benches in the lightly patterned fabric which makes her easier to spot as well. Though that had not been your intention while making the garment, you have to admit it is a welcomed bonus. That child certainly has enough energy for all the ton twice over, so being easily seen is a necessity when she could run off at any moment. She had been dying to show you what she had observed in Gregory’s dance lesson and requested that you acted as the female so she could take Gregory’s spot. You curtsey as low as you can go before placing your hands on her small frame, bending at the knees ever so slightly so her hands can rest at a comfortable position. With no music to accompany you, Hyacinth takes to counting the steps out loud and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress your laughter. One misstep has Hyacinth scolding you, though not entirely in earnest as the situation quickly crumbles into a fit of laughter between you both. The sweet girl sits next to you on the garden pathway, the two of you holding your stomachs as you laugh heartily. 

Colin stands at a window a floor above the gardens, overlooking the entertaining spectacle taking place before him. A persistent smile etches its way onto his face as his hands rest behind his back, grateful that you are down there and otherwise preoccupied so as to not witness his very obvious infatuation. He does not entirely know when his thoughts about you transitioned in such a way, he just hopes it is not as obvious as he feels it must be. Soon, he realises he is not the only person watching, as his mother has joined by his side, glancing down at what has captured her son’s attention so. 

“She has quite the way with the children,” his mother comments, continuing to glance at the two of you rather than addressing her son directly. 

“You chose well,” he agrees, looking quickly at Lady Bridgerton before continuing to smile at the sound of your laugh climbing its way up through the window. 

“A very kind soul indeed,” Lady Bridgerton sighs contently, turning then to look at her son. “With a rather large, loving heart as well. It would be a shame to let that go to waste”. With no further explanation, she turns and walks away, leaving her son in the sunlit spot on the carpet, confused. She did always have a way for reading her childrens’ minds, as well as their hearts, even when they could not conjure up their thoughts themselves. 

What a shame it would be, he agrees mentally. What a shame.

[naamahdarling]

I do want to say, because I know I am extremely and probably sometimes unfairly unforgiving of everything to do with the medical profession, that I had a really good experience last week with a team that was very empathetic and trauma-informed. The area of medicine is deeply triggering and I truly didn't know if I would even be able to talk or not. They were very understanding and respectful and I didn't feel like an inconvenience or a difficult patient, or like someone who was making a big deal out of nothing.

I know and they pointed out that I'm not the only person with this issue. This is actually common. It is utterly baffling to me that so many providers aren't able to cope with PTSD in their patients, especially patients whose trauma is medical in nature. These people treated me like a normal person who had experienced some very not-normal things.

Anyway, I had an unexpectedly hard time afterwards -- I figured the hardest part would be the appointment, and it super was not -- and have had a hard time off and on since. It has not been fun. It's been frustrating and confusing and upsetting and scary. But for once, none of that was the fault of the people I saw. I went in unsure I'd even be able to talk about it and nearly completely certain I wouldn't be able to move forward with the things I need to do. I figured I would probably have to white-knuckle it through a panic attack. I came out having held a productive conversation that left me scared, yes, but also hopeful and optimistic that I can move forward. And I didn't have a panic attack. It was a radical and unexpected change.

I worked hard for this. Any trauma is an awful thing to live with. The work of remaking yourself around the holes it punches in you is hard and confusing. The healing is often slow. In my case it comes with very few immediate rewards (it will actually make my life more difficult for a while because I'll have to deal with more medical interference, hooray). But it was time for me to do this and I have come far enough and worked hard enough to have the resilience to try, and I did it.

All we did was talk, but that would not have been possible a year ago. It was all I could do to ask for a referral because even naming the specialty was upsetting. I couldn't make the phone call to set up an appointment and when they called to try to do it, I hung up. Six or eight months ago I managed to dial the number and then hung up the instant someone answered. Last week I walked into the building and said out loud multiple words that make me feel like I have worms under my skin and which I can barely look at, let alone type. I didn't lose speech. This was a big win for me, and I'm thankful it went well, and I actually am proud of myself. I didn't even use any of my antianxiety meds that day, because I didn't think I would need them.

I don't feel grateful to the staff, I feel like someone finally did the bare fucking minimum, but I am very grateful, because I am not only what I feel. I am also what I know and what I do, and I am finally sort of getting those three things to match up in a way that they patch the holes in one another a little, and maybe someday I can stop slipping through the cracks.

I'm scared they will fuck up when I go to get some issues addressed, and they will betray me or harm me. I really am. Because hey, that's what my experiences have prepared me for, so that's a very natural way for me to feel. Rational, even.

I'm scared that I will look back at this appointment and feel stupid for having experienced any hope at all.

But even if it goes to shit, I still went in there and tried. I still did my best. And my best was okay. I was able to separate my fear from what needed to be done just a little bit. That means something. Because I didn't think I could do it at all.

[leasstories]

It was a personal issue

Based on @creativepromptsforwriting ‘s prompt “why did you never tell me”; “It was a personal issue.”; “you being in love with me kinda involves me.”

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

No trigger warning.

WC: 0.8K

You and Eddie are best friends. You have been for years. You also have been keeping a secret from him for a long time: you are in love with him. Not a simple crush no, you are head over heels in love. But you keep this information to yourself. You would rather have Eddie as a best friend than not having him in your life at all. The thing is that being around Eddie is getting harder and harder with time. You and Eddie are both touchy people, you always hug, play with each other’s fingers when you are anxious or play with each other’s hair during movie nights. Since a few months, every touch exchanged with Eddie sends a shock of electricity through your body and ignite a desire, the desire to be with him.

You currently are at Steve’s Harrington birthday party. You are currently nursing a beer, sitting right next to Eddie, your thighs touching.  Eddie also casually hooked an arm around your shoulders while casually talking with Robin. You don’t even listen to whatever they are saying, too focused on Eddie’s arm around your shoulders.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks, waving his hand in front of your face.

“Hm?” you ask.

“Tell Robin that Eddie Van Halen is cooler than Bon Jovi.” Eddie pleads, looking at you with his puppy dog eyes.

You raise your hands in surrender. “I don’t want to be in the middle of a musical argument between you two.” You say, chuckling and knowing damn well that as much as you love Robin, if you get involved you are going to take Eddie’s side, especially with the puppy dog eyes he gave you. Robin and Eddie keep going back and forth in their little argument for a little while, and you zone out again.

Once Eddie and Robin agreed that they would never convince the other, Eddie gets up from the couch for a smoke. When Eddie gets up, but you don’t follow, as usually do, nor react, he frowns.

“Sweets?” he asks, putting his hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Sorry…” you tell him earnestly, shaking your head as to clear your head.

“Where d’ya go?” Eddie asks, a bit concerned.

“I was just thinking.” You answer.

When you and Eddie walk through the kitchen, you take this as an opportunity to refill your glass.

Then, Eddie and you step outside by the back door, Eddie leans against the wall before lighting his cigarette. Meanwhile, you take a sip from your drink.

“So,” Eddie starts. “What were you thinking so hard about?” he asks, always the curious one.

“Nothing interesting.” You answer, embarrassed and blushing.

“Tell me. Pretty please.” Eddie borderline begs, doing the puppy dog eyes. When he sees that you are not about to share with the class, he adds. “I am your best friend!”

You take a huge sip of your drink for courage before saying. “Promise me that no matter what I say it is not going to change things between us, promise me it won’t make you run away.”

“I promise,” Eddie says, putting a hand over his heart before adding. “Scout’s honor.”

You snort at that. “You have never been a scout!”

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulders before saying your full name and insisting. “What was going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You blush hard and sway from one foot to the other.

“I might…” you hesitantly start before taking a deep breath and blurting out. “I love you, Eddie.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you close your eyes, bracing for impact.

“Duh! I’m your best friend!” Eddie says, not catching the real meaning of your I love you.

You sigh, embarrassed. “No Eddie, you didn’t get it… I mean I love you more than a friend should.”

“Since when do you know?” Eddie asks, kinda shocked.

“I have been sure of it for a year.” You confess.

“Why did you never tell me?” Eddie asks.

“It was a personal issue!” you protest.

“You being in love with me kinda also involves me.” Eddie says, amused.

You chuckle at Eddie’s answer. “Yeah but I wanted to sort it out on my own before telling you.” You answer a bit embarrassed.

“Sweetheart, your love for me is not unrequited.” Eddie confesses.

“Really?” you ask, skeptical.

“Really.” Eddie breathes out, his face inching closer to yours. You both breathe heavily, so close that you can feel the other’s breath. When the tension becomes too much, your lips crashes onto Eddie’s. You both kiss passionately and make the most of it. A few hours earlier, minutes even this seemed impossible for the both of you. Even in your wildest dreams, you never thought you and Eddie would ever be more than friends. But now, even though you have not put a label on your current relationship, you know you have crossed the boundaries of friendship. There is no going back now.

Taglist:@abellmunsonmovie

[thegnomelord]

Hello there! I'm a new anon, kinda scared to ask and spill all of my weird ass fantasies that I can come up with, but I somehow found the courage to do so.

After reading through the soft sex fic with Makarov (and omfg I am going CRAZY over it) I just randomly came up with an idea involving that.

So hear me out (aka let me just be delusional)...

You, a member of 141, currently stand in the interrogation room, your back facing the door as you stared down at the one and only Vladimir Makarov himself. It was honestly a miracle that you had been able to capture him, and you still had no idea how the hell the rest of your team had managed it.

You were currently their last hope at getting some sort of information out of him, and by now the others knew very well by now how talented you were at getting it out of prisoners (albeit they didn't quite know what your methods were), hence why you were here in this room.

At this point you might as well have tried everything, these including the good old torture methods (which you noticed he seemed to quote like for some reason, perhaps he was a masochist, you weren’t completely sure), intimidation, asking politely (which wouldn't you know, didn't work), and practically everything you could think of.

As you racked your brain for any sort of other ideas, you could hear some sort of taunt from the other, and that must have set you off or something along those lines as you found yourself suddenly pinning the bastard down on the desk (you must have unlocked his handcuffs at one point during it, or perhaps he had already managed to unlock them beforehand, you weren't paying attention).

You wanted to think that the other was surprised, even just a little bit, but he wasn't, having probably expected you to have a small outburst.

Maybe you would have to resort to that. That one method that none of the others had seen in action, but one that if they did, you'd definitely get in a lot of trouble from. At least it always seemed to work.

So that's how you found yourself slowly fucking the other, not at all causing any pain, and although you'd expect the cold metal table would still inflicted just a little, you had taken the precaution to place something soft under the other to ensure that he couldn't get what he wanted. This was torture, even if in the eyes of others (not that they'd ever get to see this sight) it'd be much better, but no, it wasn't. You were well aware that the other wished for it to be harsh, having picked up on it earlier (the sick bastard), so you did the complete opposite. You weren't exactly used to it, but it was a last ditch effort.

So yeah thanks for reading whatever the hell that was :)

Idk how to continue it.

- ⨂ (I swear if that symbol has already been taken)

No no dude this is so good! SOrry it took me a lil while to respond lol, but you got my brain worms going brrrrrr so I'm just continuing it :Dd.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, Vladimir Makarov x male reader, short ficlet

You are so getting discharged for this.

"Is this what you wanted?" You ask under your breath, voice husky and raw. You grip his hip gently, your other hand keeping his tied wrists pinned to the scratchy blanket covering the cold table. "All that snark, all those insults," You slowly grind your hips, cock lazily scrapping against his walls and making him groan. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's not like he can talk with his tie gagging him. It's the softest material you had on hand, and it works to ensure Makarov doesn't bite you or himself. You're smart, despite him thinking on the contrary, more than the gruff animals that had captured him. No, you're clever. Clever enough to realize bloodshed and pain are not the stones that pave Makarov's road to hell.

Makarov trembles beneath you, teeth clenching on the fabric, desperate to get his lip between his teeth so he could bite it raw. He can't. Hell he can barely stifle the groans and moans, chest heaving to swallow the sound before it can stumble past his open mouth when your head grinds down on his prostate. Drool runs down his chin, precum leaking on his belly where his cock is trapped between your belies.

He wants to curse you out, wants to get his hands around your throat and squeeze until you choke on your own blood. But he only manages a small grunt, tear blurred eyes glaring up at you. His legs tighten around your waist, heels digging into your back.

A lick of pain races up your spine, but you don't fall for it, languidly rolling your hips. You'd taken your time to stretch him out with what you had, prepping him thoroughly even when he'd trashed and tried to kick you. You're glad you did, now Makarov can't ignore the stretch of his hole, your massive cock moulding his insides to your shape. It's just raw unadulterated feeling, please assaulting his mind whenever you bottom out and your cock bulges his stomach without any pain; so sweet it's sickening to him.

He'd kick himself at how the disgustingly sweet pleasure has his cock twitching, body winding tight as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. But his mind is starting to go numb, the hate he feels shrouded by the nearing edge of bliss. He nearly seizes off the table when you wrap your calloused hand around the base of his cock, squeezing until he's just at the cusp of pain.

"Nu-uh." You growl and stop, cock twitching deep inside him. Leaning down to press gentle kisses across his throat that burn him like acid. "You're not getting off easy." You growl, kissing the corner of his lip. "Not until you give me what I need." You look at him expectantly.

He bares his teeth, swinging his head to try and headbutt you, but you pull your head just at the right time.

"Have it your way." Your grip relaxes, starting to jerk him off at the same pace of your languidly rolling hips. His head rolls back, his best attempt at a hateful sound escaping him when his head rests on the soft blanket. He hates it, tries to struggle as best he can but it's fruitless as you just hold him down, forcing him to just take it, to just suffer this gentle torture.

You may be discharged for this. But fuck, you'll make him suffer before you are.

[garbinge]

Shot To The Heart

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader (turned SWAT/TEMS) 30 Day Fic Challenge (13/30)

Word Count: 1.3k A/N: Just something small for this wife reader/Tim universe I occasionally write for. Looking forward to season 7, and hopefully a Chenford reunion lol.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of violence, gunshot wounds, ptsd, wat flashbacks, hospitalization, light angst. The Rookie Taglist: @simrah1012 @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @afuckingshituniverse Other fics with this reader: Clean Cut - Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader Earthquakes and Promotions - Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

“Hey I was just about to call you, I’m wrapping up my shift but the team is heading to get drinks, figured you could meet us there? We’re going to that spot that has those mojitos you like.” Tim had a smile on his face as he answered your phone call. He was walking through the station towards the men’s locker room, ready to change out of the stench of a long patrol day.

“Before you freak out, I want you to know I’m okay.” Your voice was completely opposite of his. It wasn’t shaky for what happened, but you were solemn and still in your delivery. It was honestly silly to start your conversation this way, Tim wasn’t one to freak out, but he was one to think the worst first. 

“What happened?” His voice immediately matched yours. Very typical for people that held the positions you did, to be calm under crisis. 

“I got shot on shift today. I’m at the hospital.” 

“You what?” Tim had stopped in his tracks immediately waiting for more information. 

“My thigh, it’s not a big deal. It missed my artery but protocol is for me to be here for the next couple days.” You didn’t exactly want to get into details but you knew you had to give him some information. 

“Why am I just finding this out?” Tim was now rushing to the exit doors. 

“I told them not to call you, I wanted you to hear it from me, not some random SWAT member.” 

“You do realize they’re not random, they come to all our barbecues, we’ve been to their weddings…” Tim was starting to argue with you. “Not to mention, I should’ve heard it on the radio.” 

“Really wanna argue with me right now, Bradford?” You sighed despite the smile on your face. 

“I really wanna know what happened.” 

You could hear his truck engine start in the background and from that you knew he was going to be at the hospital in minutes. 

“We got called in on some cartel tip, it was off-channel, stealth.” You explained knowing he wasn’t going to let it go. “I was applying aid to a hostage and it just happened.” 

“I really hope you didn’t write your report that way.” Annoyance was dripping off his tone. 

“Tim.” You said with the same amount of annoyance. 

“No, you don’t get to be mad at me for being mad.” He was on the highway now, you could hear the change in background noise. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” 

With that he hung up, and was in front of you within minutes. It made you wonder where he left his truck and who he talked to before getting to your room. 

“Jesus.” He was at the edge of the bed looking down at you. “How you holdin’ up?” 

“I’m fine, I just wanna go home.” You brushed him off. 

“What the hell happened out there?” His voice didn’t sound angry like it did on the phone, he was genuinely upset. 

“I told you, it happened fast, I was applying aid and then the next we were under fire.” You shook your head, not able to look him in the eye. 

At that motion he walked over to the side of the bed, quickly engulfing you in a hug. “I know when you’re lying to me.” He mumbled into the top of your head before placing a kiss there. 

You leaned into him, despite all his gear from his belt making it rather unpleasant to be in his embrace, it was the most comfortable you’ve felt since everything happened. You leaned into him more, gripping him closer to you when you let out a little sob. 

He gently scooted you over, making sure he didn’t aggravate or even touch the leg with the bullet wound. It was just enough so that he could sit next to you in the bed and shield you from prying eyes outside. 

“It’s alright.” He hummed as he rubbed your back up and down. A nurse had entered at one point and Tim just politely smiled and asked if the two of you could have a couple minutes. 

The tears you let escape you were some that you hadn’t shed in years. It was buried down deep, being in your field, being at war, it did that to you, it bottled everything up and left you to deal with it at another time, and each time being more inconvenient than the last left for it to overflow now. 

As you calmed down, you took a deep breath and wiped your face before looking at Tim. 

“You went back.” Tim said not needing you to say anything in explanation about what happened. 

“It was like I was right back in Afghanistan.” You nodded. 

“Protocols are different here.” Tim tilted his head to look at you, wondering if he pushed you into this too soon. 

“Yea, they got me on probation. Seeing the shrink tomorrow where they’ll figure out when I’m cleared for active duty.” 

“You know, if you wanted to go back to work at the hospital, no one would hold it against you.” Tim offered up a solution that was more for him than it was for you. 

“I was doing fine up until now, I think all the dust from the desert we were in, my hands wrist deep into this guys abdomen, brought me back to when you were bleeding out in front of me. Getting shot brought me back to the moment, it was like the shake back to reality I needed.” You shook your head as you thought through it all. 

“Yea the shrinks gonna have a ball with you.” Tim teased you before getting serious. “You’ve always been self-aware. On top of your shit, you’ll be back on active duty in no time.” 

“You sound worried.” It was obvious to notice the hesitancy in his voice. 

“Just can’t help but feel like I pushed you to this.” Tim sighed deeply. 

“I chose this.” You began to argue with him. 

“But I planted the seed.” He argued back. 

“You give yourself too much credit.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Remember when the Chief’s daughter came in, and I took her on as my patient, he saw how I handled everything, when they checked out, he mentioned how I might be good in TEMS. I brushed it off, but when you brought it up again, it just was harder and harder to brush it off. It just made sense.” 

Tim looked down at you shocked that you never mentioned what his boss said to you. 

“I’m just saying, don’t give yourself the credit for this.” You shrugged and teased him. 

“I just want to make sure you’re good.” Tim got serious again after letting out a laugh from your tease. 

“I’m fine, and after I see Dr. Shrink tomorrow I’ll be even better.” 

“You’re not opposed to it, which is already how I know you’re fine.” Tim joked as he brought you closer to him as both of you relaxed in the bed. 

“That’s that machismo stigma, I love talking to people about my problems. Which, speaking of, you didn’t take the trash out this morning.” 

Tim let out a belly laugh, “I’ll be sure to take it out tonight.” 

“No you won’t. You’re staying with me, Sarge.” And with that you cuddled into him as best as you could and closed your eyes so you could get as many minutes in the the most comfortable sleep you’d get while being in the hospital. 

[doublel27]

I’ve been thinking about Moo’s very publicly r video essay ever since @petrichoraline and I were talking about Moo’s very public declaration of his relationship here and the irony is if no one had said anything to Moo there’s a chance he wouldn’t have done anything.

In episode 8, Neth and Kang had already convinced him he might need to be quiet about their relationship. Kang and Moo agreed that “as long as we know” it doesn’t matter what other people do or don’t know.

And I think it was even worse for Moo because the dance video wasn’t a declaration of anything. That’s what he states before making the Kang fan edit. The video he was asked to delete was simply just boys dancing. And as an idol, he’s gonna be dancing on stage with a lot of boys. He’s probably already posted clips with Tae and Yos as well.

And sure it’s different because Kang isn’t also out here trying to be a dancer and he is Moo’s boyfriend. But a lot of what he was being asked to tone down were things that were what Moo considers normal. And I think that’s what made him so angry when everyone asked him to take the video down. Shone and Moo’s mom didn’t know they were boyfriends from that clip. To Moo’s point that wasn’t an announcement.

And as @luthienmpl points out here it’s not like Moo didn’t very publicly court Kang at school where everyone knows he’s written Kang a song and sang it over the intercom and gave away food for people who congratulated them on being boyfriends. There’s information out there.

Moo got mad at the idea he would have to lie. And everyone was insisting they weren’t asking him to lie, but to not share. To Moo, who if the thought is in his head it’s out of his mouth, omitting facts, deleting posts because of how someone might interpret it even if it’s not explicit what the video is of, to cut parts of himself off, well that’s a lie. After being pushed too far by the repeated requests by others to be less, he snapped with the very loud video of l not only do I have a boyfriend but let me tell you all about him and why he’s perfect.

With the preview showing that the contract is going to say expressly no relationships and Moo’s determination to not lie and Kang being the bluest boy (who tend to be martyrs….I am very curious where Only Boo is going with this story. As I am curious where Thame Po will take this story as they’re doing a similar line.

Another show with a similar storyline from GMM, Be My Favorite just dropped in 2023 and I adored it, but they took a particular stance on this conundrum. You should watch it, but spoilers…in one of the futures Kawi makes for himself, he ends up an idol and is at first delighted to find himself living what he thought was an impossible dream. But it’s quickly clear that he is miserable, drinking. He had gotten his dream girl Pear, but she left him because he wouldn’t marry her and start a family. As an idol, he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give her the time, attention, and public commitment she was looking for. We also find out that Piesang disappeared around the same time. It’s heavily implied after Kawi chases Piesang and kisses him drunkenly, that Kawi probably did something similar after Pear left as Piesang says “You cannot keep doing this.” (They’d had a similar moment in episode six but this made it feel like we had a bigger pattern and explained his absence)

In the final future, Kawi is happily a songwriter, making songs for other people to sing. It’s the future Kawi chose knowing where the idol path sent him. Piesang even questions him on it. He asks Kawi if he gave up on those dreams because of Piesang and Piesang offers to hide if that’s what it takes. Kawi, thanks to the power of time travel, tells Piesang he’s absolutely certain he couldn’t be happier if he traveled that path. Only misery lies that way. Kawi’s whole lesson though is about making choices in the moment that spark joy rather than letting fear or jealousy lead your choices and living a life that makes you truly happy.

Only Boo, of course, is a very different show with a very different lead. Moo is 1000 times more confident and certain than Kawi ever could hope to be. He knows what he wants and while everyone sees them as two disparate pictures, Moo sees them fully integrated. He’s also a much younger character, just out of high school and has yet to face the reality of what it means to be an idol beyond getting to do the things he loves most and feels confident about.

Thame-Po will take us somewhere entirely different with an idol at the peak of their game who signed their right to a personal life away at a much younger age.

So when confronted with a contract that explicitly says you cannot date and Moo, who has no interest in lies of omission or hiding his boyfriend, and is in fact highly reactionary to people insisting he delete rather innocuous posts incase someone wants to speculate…I am very interested in the choices that will get written in here.

It is especially interesting considering the the litany of drama that has come out of highly entitled fan reactions to social media posts and in some cases leaked videos of Thai artists in their own home. Sure, everyone is trying to “protect” Moo in theory, but entitled fans will be entitled whether you hide your personal life entirely or not. These types of fans seem to exist across fandoms of many types and with a level of wild inappropriateness regardless of how open or closed a celebrity is to others. If they post too much with someone that’s a sign. If they avoid posting with someone that’s a sign. Like…there’s no winning.

And to that point, what is the takeaway going to be for Moo as he is faced with a moral dilemma and the two things he wants most in conflict? And what is the messaging going to be from Only Boo/GMM about young idols and talent (as the two leads of this show are) and their rights to their own lives? And are we gonna talk about the extra layer of homophobia of it all or because the fact that even straight relationships seem to be a PR nightmare for some talent, that GMM/Only Boo is content to leave it ambiguous for now?

[anamericangirl]

The Israel vs Palestine conflict is such a long-spanning and insanely complicated thing that there's literally college courses that revolve entirely around the subject. There's people who have been studying it for 70 years who still barely understand it. There's historians with PhDs trying to piece together anything they can that could help them figure out a means to potentially instill a ceasefire or even peace altogether who have failed time and time again for decades if not literally centuries.

And yet people with 7 years of Twitter experience think they know enough about the conflict to pick a side and vouch for the destruction of the opposite side.

The amount of times I want to say "Shut the fuck up you fucking stupid idiot, you know literally nothing about this conflict, you have no idea what's actually happening, I bet if I asked your opinion on the Two State Solution you wouldn't even have a fucking clue what that means" on a daily basis reading these actual braindead moronic 16yo Twitter users' dipshit opinions who keep citing celebrity blue-checkmark Twitter posts as evidence to vouch for the eradication of a middle eastern country they don't even know a fucking thing about is STAGGERING.

I'm in my mid-30s and I stay out of politics on all sides because I am not qualified in any way to form opinions on matters so serious that they may or may not result in people being killed, and it fucking pisses me off that people half my fucking age are telling me that I should support Palestine or Ukraine or vouch for the genocide of Israel or join ANTIFA or BLM or put #FreeTaiwan in my fucking twitter bio.

You actual braindead stupid fucking morons have absolutely no clue what any of these conflicts actually mean, none of them have anything to do with you, go back to bitching about girls in video games being too sexy and shut the fuck up about actual real conflicts because you're a fucking moron if you think you know anything about what you claim you're in support of.

I swear to God if I see one more Twitch player playing Fortnite ranting about the Israel Palestine conflict and telling people that donations during their stream go to Palestine, Ukraine, Taiwan and LGBT activism centers, I'm gonna go feral. It is so unbelievably belittling to people who have spent their entire life researching and educating themselves on these conflicts to be able to build an understanding, that a dipshit who collects loli bestiality porn and plays Metroid Prime on Twitch thinks he's on the same level as those researchers.

PREACH! It's so fucking annoying how everyone suddenly thinks they're experts on this conflict when before October 7, 2023 none of them even knew it was happening and they're just cringey ass brain dead parrots saying what they're supposed to say without doing their due diligence to at least get somewhat informed on the matter before boycotting Starbucks, using hashtags and swapping the Ukraine flag for the Palestine flag and thinking they're doing something.

What really gets to me is when influencers I follow, like apolitical ones who are grown ass adults, jump on the bandwagon and are actually orchestrating fundraisers for Palestine and it makes me so fucking mad because they absolutely have no excuse for that. I just want to scream at them "hey! you know literally every cent you raise is going straight to Hamas and no Palestinian will ever get a single penny!! It's all going to buy weapons to kill Israeli civilians. YOU ARE LITERALLY FUNDING GENOCIDE AND TERRORISM YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!!!" I don't have a shred of respect for people who talk about all the terrible things happening in Gaza but don't have a single word to say about the atrocities Hamas commits daily in Israel. Not one of them has condemned or even mentioned the attack on October 7th. Fuck every single one of them.