#<- this happens in my head its REAL to me

[lazysoulwriter]

standing tall. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you for sending. tall girls supremacy!!!!! (not a tall girl, just find them hot)

---

It started with one photo. Just one.

You and Pedro Pascal at an afterparty — him in a perfectly tailored suit, you towering over him in stilettos and a silk gown, laughing at something he whispered against your ear.

The internet lost its mind. “Tall girl supremacy!!” “Pedro with his goddess? I’m crying??” “He’s so real for this.”

And honestly? You loved every second of it.

You met Pedro on set — a supporting role in his new prestige series. From the very first table read, he made you feel seen. Literally seen.

While most people awkwardly commented on your height or made jokes, Pedro had simply looked up at you, grinned wide, and said, "Finally, someone who doesn’t make me feel like a giant."

It was easy after that. Late-night conversations on set. Inside jokes. Flirty glances over coffee cups. You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped when he laughed. Tried to pretend you didn’t notice the way he always found a reason to stand just a little closer to you.

Of course, Pedro made the first move. (Because you're gorgeous, and he’s not stupid.)

-

Dating Pedro was a whirlwind of soft affection and quiet understanding.

He loved how you wore heels without hesitation. He loved how you never apologized for taking up space — in a room, in a conversation, in his life.

"You’re statuesque, hermosa," he told you one night, tracing the line of your jaw with reverent fingers. "Like you were carved out of marble just to drive me crazy."

The only thing he didn’t love? Seeing you hesitate when the cameras were around.

Because no matter how confident you were, there was always that tiny voice in your head: Too tall. Too loud. Too much.

Pedro saw it. And he wasn’t having it.

The night of the afterparty, it all came to a head.

You hesitated before stepping onto the red carpet with him, shifting on your towering heels. Pedro caught your hand immediately, pulling you back into his chest.

"Hey," he said, voice low and sure. "You’re not dimming yourself for anyone tonight. You hear me?"

You smiled nervously. "I’m like... two inches taller than you right now."

Pedro chuckled, squeezing your hand. "And you look like a fucking queen. If anything, I should be wearing taller shoes to keep up with you."

You laughed, the tension breaking. He pressed a kiss to your temple, completely ignoring the flashing cameras.

"Let them talk," he murmured. "I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm. I'm winning."

And just like that, you stood a little taller.

The next morning, you woke up to thousands of tweets, edits, and fan posts celebrating you both.

Pedro had even reposted one — a photoset of the two of you looking every bit like Hollywood royalty — with the caption: "Love when she looks at me like I hung the moon 🖤"

Cue the internet absolutely combusting.

Later that week, curled up on his couch in sweats and no makeup, you teased him, "You're really not bothered that I’m taller than you sometimes?"

Pedro set down his coffee, turning to you with that fond, devastating smile. "Sweetheart," he said, "I’m old enough to know when I'm blessed. You could be six feet tall or sixty feet tall — I'd still look at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You hid your burning face in his chest, laughing. He wrapped his arms around you tighter.

"Besides," he added with a wink, "I like having to look up at you. Keeps me humble."

You giggled, feeling weightless in a way you hadn't in a long time. And as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring sweet nothings into your hair, you realized ��

Yeah. This was the real win. Not just for the tall girls. But for you. For the love you had found when you finally stopped shrinking yourself.

----

[itsnesss]

hii i was thinking if you could do a KA12 fic with the song "i miss you im sorry" or "i love you im sorry" by gracie abrams? Plus love your style of writing!💗

𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | you receive a call from kimi, who apologizes for everything and admits he misses you

warnings | angst, emotional conflict, broken relationship, unresolved feelings

word count | 1.2 k

🖇️ more ka12 🖇️ f1 masterlist

The hum of the city outside your apartment window felt distant, like it belonged to someone else, to another life. Inside, it was quiet, almost suffocating. Your room was tidy, too tidy for the kind of chaos that once filled it. The bed, the desk, the walls—everything was in its place, but it didn’t feel like home. It felt empty. And it wasn’t just the space. It was the absence of him.

Kimi.

You hadn’t spoken in months. It seemed like a lifetime ago, that time when you couldn’t escape him, when every argument, every laugh, every touch felt like it was imprinted on your soul. But now… now everything was just an echo. His name on your phone screen was the first reminder of how much time had passed.

You sat there for a long while, just staring at his name. Kimi Antonelli. A knot tightened in your stomach. The memories hit you harder than you expected, crashing over you like a wave you couldn’t outrun. The good, the bad, the moments of pure joy, the moments of furious fights, all wrapped up in one tangled mess. And somehow, they all led back to him.

The first time you met him felt like destiny—chaotic, unexpected, but inevitable. He was brash and loud, never afraid to speak his mind. He’d challenged you in ways no one else had, pushing your buttons, testing your patience. But somehow, it worked. In the midst of it all, you found something beautiful in him, something real. You both fought, you both disagreed, but at the end of the day, there was always the promise of something more.

The sound of your phone vibrating again snapped you out of your thoughts. You hesitated, the weight of your emotions pulling you in different directions. But then, as if against your will, you answered.

"Hello?" Your voice was hesitant, unsure, the cracks in your facade showing. The silence on the other side of the line only made your heart beat faster.

"Hey." Kimi's voice was soft, but it carried the weight of everything that had happened. "I… I’ve been thinking about you."

You closed your eyes, a wave of emotion flooding over you. It was the kind of ache you couldn’t ignore, one that lived inside you, gnawing at you, growing louder the longer you tried to suppress it. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck in your throat.

"I miss you," he added quietly, as if it were a confession. "I’m sorry for everything, for how things ended. I shouldn’t have let it go like that."

His words hung in the air, heavy with regret and longing. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "Kimi… why now? Why are you calling me after all this time?"

There was a pause, a long one, filled only with the sound of his breathing. When he spoke again, it was slow, measured, as if he was carefully choosing his words.

"Because I can’t get you out of my head," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice raw and real. "I’ve tried, but… I miss you. I miss us. I miss the way we used to be."

You felt a tightness in your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. His words had opened a door you thought was long closed. The pain, the hurt, the fights—it all rushed back. And yet, there was something else, something deeper. The longing. The love. The part of you that still wanted him, despite everything.

"I miss you too," you finally whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But it’s not that simple, Kimi. It’s never been that simple with us."

You could hear him exhale on the other end, the sound of frustration mixed with relief. "I know," he said. "I know it’s complicated. I know we’ve both messed up, but… I can’t help it. I keep thinking about the fights. About how we’d scream at each other and then… and then everything would be fine again. And I don’t want to lose that."

The memories flooded your mind. The arguments that started over something small and escalated into something huge. The yelling, the harsh words, the broken dishes. But then, like magic, it would all disappear. The apologies would come, and somehow, despite the chaos, you both found a way back to each other. You remembered how those fights, while painful, were a part of you. How you both knew how to hurt each other, but also how to heal. You missed that. You missed him.

"Do you remember that time in your old apartment?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "When we fought about everything, and we broke a plate? And then, just like that, we made up… but I didn’t know how much it meant until now."

There was silence again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if he was savoring the moment, remembering it just as vividly as you were.

"I remember," Kimi said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "I remember everything. I never wanted to hurt you, but sometimes… sometimes I didn’t know how not to. I guess we both got lost in the chaos."

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "I don’t want to go back to that," you said softly. "But I can’t pretend it didn’t mean something. I can’t pretend I didn’t feel it. All the fighting, all the chaos—it was just… us. And now it’s gone."

Another long silence. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you were ready to face the reality of what he was offering, of what he was asking. The past was painful, but it was also familiar. And sometimes, familiarity was all you had left.

"I don’t want to let go of this," Kimi said, his voice almost a plea. "I don’t want to lose us. I miss you, and I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone."

The weight of his words settled on you, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel everything. The love. The pain. The regret. All of it.

"I miss you too, Kimi," you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. "But I don’t know if I can go through that again. The fights, the pain… I don’t know if I can handle it."

He didn’t answer right away, but you could hear him breathing, steady but heavy. "I don’t know either. But maybe… maybe we don’t have to go through it again. Maybe we can start over, and this time, we can try to make it right."

You closed your eyes, thinking about the possibility. Could you really go back to him? Could you find a way to let go of the past and build something new? You didn’t know. But for the first time in months, you wanted to try.

"Maybe we can," you said softly. "But we have to promise, Kimi… we can’t keep repeating the same mistakes. We have to be better."

"I promise," he said without hesitation. "I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work. I just want you in my life again."

And for the first time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could try again. You could heal. You could forgive.

"I miss you," you whispered again, your voice filled with the weight of everything you hadn’t said in so long.

"I miss you too, he replied, and in those words, you found the beginning of something new.

[anyshowwitharainbow]

Cooties pt. 2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary:

You're still under the weather, but the world keeps turning (rude tbh). Don't worry though, you'll always be well taken care of.

Looking for part 1?

Warnings + Tags: 18+ MDNI, fluff and smut, sick!reader, caring Agatha and Rio, Rio g!p, bottom reader, mommy!Agatha, daddy!Rio, cg/l themes, no mention of pronouns except a few 'they's, clit/pussy/cunt used for reader, pet names

Words: ~5.6k

A/N: You all seemed to really like Cooties, so I made a part 2! Inspired by 100% real world events (AKA- I'm still freaking sick!!) As a reminder Cooties is my first xReader fic so be gentle. (I'm sick, I promise there will be some errors...pretend they're endearing...)

AO3 | My Fics | pt. 1

Cooties pt. 2

The weekend comes and goes in a blur of hushed whispers and four hour sleep sessions. Occasionally, you hear an alarm ringing from somewhere in the room. It’s never yours and it doesn’t disturb you for long. Each time you open your eyes following the alarm you are being coaxed into taking various medicines by either Agatha or Rio.

On one occasion, both Agatha and Rio stood over you. You wanted to question the worry on their faces, but as soon as they saw you stir there was no room for thoughts between their kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

“Go back to sleep, bunny,” Agatha had gently persuaded against your ear.

You barely made a move to protest before Rio’s voice was whispering into your other ear.

“That’s enough, bunny. Be good for us and rest. We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You had little choice when you the warmth of both women wrapped around you closer than the blankets. Sleep consumed you and stole more time away.

Now, you’re nestled against Agatha’s chest and consciousness hits you light a freight train. You shoot up and Agatha’s arms free you enough to move but not fully release you.

“There you are, bunny. How are you feeling?”

You grunt, feeling an ache in the back of your lungs and a heavy pooling in your chest. As horrible as you feel, your main concern is that one of your wives is missing. Agatha must see you searching, or has lied to you about her ability to read your mind, because her face softens before addressing your unspoken concern.

“She has a meeting with a client. She’ll be back in a couple of hours. She told me she’d miss you terribly and to give you this.”

Agatha ran her thumb over your furrowed, grumpy brow before loosely gripping your chin to hold you in place and planting a soft kiss against your lips. The tension you feel from your bubble of sleepy sickness being burst by the ‘real world’ slowly ebbs away from you.

“Does that kiss happen to come with these?” Your croaky voice doesn’t quite meet the flirtatiousness you aim for. Agatha playfully rolls her eyes, but bites at her bottom lip regardless.

“We’ll see. If you let me examine you with no complaints Mommy may be able to convince Daddy to let me give you a little treat.”

Your cheeks immediately burn what you know to be a deep, crimson red. Whether it was the innuendo or the ease of which Agatha refers to herself as Mommy- you tumble head first into a far more agreeable, pliable version of yourself. You nod and its rewarded with a kiss to your forehead before Agatha frees herself from the blankets and crosses the room to retrieve her medical bag.

“Isn’t it like…Sunday? Why is Rio meeting with a client?” You wonder through the weight of a deep grogginess that only comes from a weekend of hibernation.

Agatha looks at you with a small, hesitant pout.

“It’s Monday, bunny.”

Your eyebrows meet your hairline as you start to dig for your phone.

“Already?! When’s your next shift?”

You try to wade through the haze of your lethargy to unlock your phone, but your hands and brain aren’t communicating with one another. Agatha glances at her wrist watch and you clock the disappointment she almost immediately squashes with determined stoicism.

“In two hours,” she begins, continuing before you can fuss, “But it doesn’t matter because after I examine you Mommy’s going to make sure you go right back to sleep. By the time you wake up Daddy will be here and will have already taken over.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a pale finger presses to your lips.

“No complaints, remember?” Agatha’s tone is absolute, but her coo tickles your insides.

You give a single nod and let her help you sit up more. She perches herself on the bed and begins her examination. First, she probes at your neck right under the curve of your jaw. When you wince away from the deep exploration of her fingers she furrows her brows in disapproval and changes her approach.

One hand moves to cradle the back of your head and she begins to prod at your throat again with her thumb on one side and her pointer and middle on the other. You bite your lip, the memory of the many times Agatha has had her hand around your throat before- under far, far better circumstances- taunting you.

“Your lymph nodes don’t feel too swollen,” she muses aloud before letting her eyes fall to your face. Her lips tease you with a coy, satisfied smirk before she declares: “Perv.”

“I’m just remembering all of the times you’ve choked me, Mommy. I’d only be a perv if it made me wet.” You say nonchalantly and revel in the way her hand briefly grips your throat with more purpose.

Agatha hums while observing your face and you groan from your facial features being read like a book. A deep chuckle rumbles from Agatha’s chest before she releases your throat. Her hand that cradles your head begins to scratch gently at your scalp.

“No, baby. That’s not true. It’s okay if Mommy makes you wet. We both know it doesn’t take much, does it, bunny?”

Her words coupled with the melodic massaging at the back of your head soothed something deep inside you. You suddenly have no interest or care for anything other than what Agatha’s lips will feel like against your own. You reach to grab her face and the way she eyes your lips makes you think she might let you. Instead, she easily dodges your grasp and grabs her stethoscope.

“Work first, bunny. Then, if you behave, maybe play. You know the drill.” She coaches.

You breathe in deeply and release, repeating the pattern each time she moves her stethoscope to a new spot on your back. You continue to behave with purpose as she takes your blood pressure, temperature, and pokes at you in a few other ways that seem entirely unnecessary.

“Now, for the final part of your exam,” she stuffs her various medical instruments back into her bag and moves to set it across the room. As she returns, she leans down to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead before continuing.

“Can you tell Mommy what hurts, bunny?”

Her voice is so soft it tickles your ears and you lean in to the touch of her knuckles stroking your cheek. Her attention is all-consuming and you feel shyness steal your words from you. As always, Agatha seems to understand you with no assistance from you at all.

“It’s okay, my little love. Can you nod yes or no for me?”

You are at her whim, her demeanor soft as a cloud. This section of Agatha’s soul is dedicated solely to you. The expanse of it only ever traversed by herself, Rio, and you. You nod your head yes and are rewarded with a proud smile.

“Does it hurt here?” Agatha’s pokes your knee and feigns the utmost seriousness when you furrow your brow and shake your head no.

“Here?” She hums, resting a hand over the blanket where it covers your foot.

You mimic your last response and Agatha makes a show of scratching her head.

“Well, I must be with the wrong patient. They told me someone in here wasn’t feeling good,” Agatha purses her lips. “Just a moment, dear. I’ll be right back with you.”

Agatha foregoes having a pretend phone call on her actual phone, instead grabbing the TV remote off the nightstand.

“Hi, yes- this is Dr. Harkness. I’m in room ‘my bedroom’ and I was told there was an unwell patient. I checked for knee and foot disease and the patient reports no symptoms.”

Hums and ‘ah’s filled the silence before Agatha spoke again.

“So I’m in the correct room and the patient I’m looking for is a cutie patootie?” Agatha looks over at you, “Yes, the patient does fit that description. You suggest checking for other illnesses besides foot and knee disease?”

Agatha ponders this for a moment while looking utterly unconvinced.

“I will assess the patient as a formality but this patient is far too cute to be suffering. Thank you for your time. Good day.”

She sets the remote back on the nightstand and eyes you with suspicion. Finally, you giggle at her antics and you do your best to sear the resulting smile she gives you into your memory. Seeing her cheeks nearly cover her eyes at her success, the last of your shyness melts away. You take comfort in the searching hands that caress you.

“Here?” Her hand spreads over the center of your chest and you nod. Agatha’s hand retreats and her lips press a kiss where it previously resided.

“Here?” She asks once again, this time her hand gently pressed over your stomach.

You shake your head no and her hand moves to apply pressure to your cheeks, just under your eyes. You wince at the deep, dull pain it causes and she coos in apology.

“I’m sorry. I know, bunny. Come here,” she instructs, moving to lay against the pillows and pull you into her lap. “I know you’re hurting but the good news is I think the worst of it is over. I think you’ve just got a nasty sinus infection as a souvenir.”

You pout, partly at the fact that it’s the worst souvenir ever and partly at the fact that you weren’t ready to lose the very specific attention that’s given to you when you’re sick. Sure, you could earn the attention in other ways, even just by asking. Many times, its freely given. There is something about there being no other option, though, that you feel a panicked urge to cling to.

Because of this, you bury your face into Agatha’s chest, not caring how the the worn and cracked print on her baggy t-shirt scratches at your face. Agatha attempts to gently push you back to see your face, but you cement yourself to her body and refuse to budge.

“Hey, what is it?”

Agatha’s voice carries concern that, under normal circumstances, would make you feel guilty. The coiling in your chest isn’t as easy to put a name to and the frustration of having such a big feeling that you can’t quite put your finger on is all the fuel you need to turn your head into Agatha even further. You try to breathe, but there is little air in the hole you’ve nestled yourself into. Eventually, Agatha’s prodding and the lack of oxygen successfully bring you to surface for air.

The moment your face is accessible again Agatha’s hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing over the lines left by her shirt. Blue eyes assess your scrunched brows and the shapes your discontent draws into your features. You know that if you look up, the adoration mixed with concern would cause the swelling your chest to tug at your throat. Instead, you find interest in your fingers and anything you see on them that you can pick at.

Agatha’s hand untangles your own and she lays your hand to rest over where her heart steadily thrums in her chest. You easily adjust your hand to where you can feel the beat the most and let the rhythm lull your frustration into something duller and more manageable.

“Do you feel up to playing a game with me, bunny?” When you shrug, she elaborates. “We can stay right here, just like this, and still play. Is that okay?”

This time, you nod and receive a satisfied hum in reply.

“I’m going to make guesses and ask questions. If your answer is ‘yes’ tap your finger one time. If your answer is ‘no’ tap your finger twice.” She turns her head to kiss your forehead before continuing, “Can you do that for me, bunny?”

You tap once and she squeezes you tightly with pride.

“So good for Mommy.” She lightens her hold on you, “Do you love Mommy?”

Tap.

“Do you love Daddy?”

Tap.

“Do you know that Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything in the whole world?”

She draws out the word ‘whole’ and you bite your lip to hide the smile that threatens to betray your sulking.

Tap.

“Are you sad Mommy has to go to work?”

You think about it for a moment.

Tap.

“Are there more feelings that feel too big for words?”

Tap.

Agatha hums and you feel her eyes gently observing you.

“Are you worried that if you start feeling better that we’ll stop taking care of you, bunny?”

Her question is gentle and accuses you of nothing. You know whatever your answer is, it won’t illicit a negative response. The tightly jumbled feelings in your chest start to give you more room to breathe and you let yourself genuinely consider the question. You get the feeling Agatha knows how you’re feeling already, regardless of how you respond.

Tap.

Agatha’s hand that cradles your shoulder moves to scratch gentle circles on your back.

“Do you know whether you’re our little bunny or our big bunny we always love you the same way we love you right now?”

Tap.

Her hand moves to scratch at the back of your scalp and she hums a soft tune that is amplified by your ear resting against her chest. Time lulls into tame stillness and whether its only for a moment or minutes- you hope it’ll be forever. The coils in your chest unbind and melt away so fully that there is no echo to remind you they were ever there.

Far too soon for your liking, Agatha is maneuvering you. First, she draws your hand to her lips and places a kiss to the backs of your fingers. Then she adjusts you so she can lay face to face with you, noses just grazing against each others.

“I love you so much. As your wife and as your Mommy. I’ll always be both, bunny. I want every part of you forever, okay?”

Agatha gathers your hands into her own and places a sure kiss onto your knuckles. Her soft lips are on yours next and any remnants of your tenseness are long gone as a familiar weightlessness frees you of all of your worries.

“I love you more.”

Your voice is small and Agatha giggles against your mouth. The shape of her smile against your lips feels like everything you’ve ever craved and you find the skin of her back to softly scratch upwards until your hands cradle her shoulder blades to pull her impossibly closer. Her body melts into yours and she lets you drag her deeper into the kiss for a fleeting moment before she pulls away.

“Naughty bunny.” She lightly spanks your ass and you don’t miss the lingering hunger in her eyes. “You’ll never love Mommy more than she loves you.”

She pulls you into a tight embrace and as she kisses your forehead she maneuvers to check her watch. A resigned huff rocks you and Agatha squeezes you once more before pulling back and searching for your eyes.

“I’ve got shower and head in, love. I’m only on the clock until 9 tonight so I’ll be home later. If you behave for Daddy maybe I can bring home pizza. How does that sound?”

You squash down the complaints you want to mutter about Agatha having to leave and reach out to touch her chest.

Tap.

“Can I pick the movie?” You question and Agatha analyzes you through squinted eyes.

Her eyes work to gauge if you’ll be a trustworthy beholder of such a privilege today.

“Do you promise to be extra good for Mommy and rest while I’m gone so you can feel better?” Suspicion laces through her question and you know no matter how you answer she will be carrying her doubts throughout her shift.

“Promise!” You confirm and Agatha purses her lips.

“You can do better than that, bun.”

Considering her assessment of your response, you move your hand to roughly squeeze her breast. Her mouth slightly falls open and her breath hitches before you kiss her cheek and whisper against her lips.

“I’ll be good for you, Mommy. I promise.”

You relish in the tremble she tries to play off as a fidget. Cool fingers wrap around your wrist and pry your hand off of her chest. She pecks your lips and untangles your bodies to stand up.

From her new vantage point she declares:

“You can pick the movie, but if Rio reports any funny business we’ll be watching ghost hunter documentaries.”

You gasp at the threat of torture and don’t have the chance to match her suspicion before she saunters to the bathroom while pulling off her t-shirt. She throws you one last glance over her shoulder and squashes your desire to follow her into the shower when she shuts the door, lock clicking to punctuate your fate.

You throw your head against the pillow and your body reminds you that you ache and hurt all over. The dull throbbing in the front of your head is enough to entice you to rest your eyes until Agatha is done getting ready. You don’t bother to check your phone before you nest into the pillows and wait to hear the shower shut off.

Sleep lures you into its depths, but only for a few moments. You feel Agatha rustling through the covers to find your face. You open your eyes to find that Agatha is actually Rio and confusion wades your thoughts before the reality of Rio’s presence sinks in.

“You’re home!” You mumble happily, confusion floating somewhere just out of reach. “Wha time is it?”

Rio giggles at the way you slur through your clumsy stretching.

“Time for more meds,” Rio sing-songs and your eyes land on the small cup of liquid she’s carrying, frowning in response.

“Can you just set it down for a second? I need to sit up.” Your sleepiness helps you keep your tone casual and Rio complies, smiling down at you.

You pull the covers aside and pucker your lips to silently request a kiss. Rio is quick to meet your ask, but before her lips can brush your own you wrap your limbs around her warm frame and pull her on top of you. She yelps in the process and as her weight settles you shiver, unclear if it’s from the cold air or Rio’s close proximity. Warm lips press against each of your cheeks before meeting your own.

“My little trickster,” Rio chuckles as she pulls the covers back over you both.

“You’re nakey,” you playfully accuse, offloading the fault onto her.

“I am not!” She defends but folds quickly, “Not completely. I came to change into comfy clothes, but it was time for someone’s medicine. I figured my underwear would suffice for that task, but I should’ve known better.”

Her words aren’t capable of scolding you when they are punctuated by several playful kisses to your neck. Olive skin smolders under the soft light of the tabletop lamps and you are entranced by the warmth of its glow. Silken lips continue dancing with the lazy tickle of slow, contented breaths left in their wake. All of your senses are enveloped by Rio and you quickly fall into a drunken hubris. A whisper of a deeply familiar warm, woody scent proves to be too much and you lose all regard for anything other than the burning growing in your belly.

“Mmm, is that true, Daddy?” You drag your teeth over your bottom lip, mostly to not move too fast and risk Rio stopping you before you even get started. “You didn’t want me to see you and do this?”

Rio freezes against your neck and somehow isn’t moving a single muscle. You aren’t sure if she’s even breathing and it emboldens you as you bring your hand to your lips and let your pooled saliva drip onto your fingertips and into the palm of your hand. You carefully weave your hand between your bodies and under the waistband of her briefs, letting your mouth fall open with a soft gasp as you wrap around the heat of her quickly stiffening cock.

You give her a squeeze and an unsteady breath follows a strong twitch. It is the only sign of life from Rio, so you move to stroke your spit up her swelling member. She hisses and drops her hips to trap your hand, stilling your movement.

“Bunny…” she warns, but her voice waivers with need.

“Play with me, Daddy,” you tease.

Rio drops her face into the pillow and groans at her quaking resolve.

“No,” she grunts, muffled by her burrow. You aren’t surprised by the response, but you feign shock and hurt regardless.

“But Daddy…” you fuss shamelessly, “I need you.”

Rio’s cock twitches angrily this time and it rests hot, dense, and aching in your hand. After a moment of silence you test your luck.

“You’re so hard, Daddy. I know you need me too.” You turn and nip at her ear lobe, unable to reach much else. “Are you hard because you want to open up your little bunny’s pussy?”

“You know the rules, mi corazoncito.” Rio’s words are pained as she re-surfaces and softly kisses your cheek before looking down at you.

“I haven’t broken any yet. I promised Mommy I’d be good.”

Rio snorts, knowing your motives. You both know neither of you will break any rules. Neither of you want to. Still, she bites her lip and gives you a single, gentle grind into your hand.

“What do you think she’d do? If she were here?” You question as you resume your languid stroking over Rio’s cock.

The pressure is only enough to tease, just enough to spread your spit over her length. Her hips jerk against you every few strokes, but neither of you move to satisfy their request.

“She’d probably have you suckling on her tits. Maybe she’d let you share and I could suck on the other while I dry hump your needy little cunt.”

“Fuck,” you gasp as Rio lazily grinds into you, “Maybe she’d let me nurse from below. I’d lay here, just like this, and she’d be on all fours. Her tits would be in my face but her ass would be in yours. You’d want to bury your cock in me but you’d be too distracted because you’d be tongue fucking Mommy’s ass.”

Rio’s hips stutter harder than before and she holds her breath. You halt your movements and try to stifle your giggle.

“Fuck, baby…you can’t say things like that. I’ll—”

“Cum?” You squeeze her, but keep your hand still. “Mommy would love that…you making a mess in your undies… Cumming just from rutting against me and eating her ass. What do you think she’d say?”

“’It’s okay, Daddy. If our baby’s pussy feels half as good as their little mouth does I’d cum just from being near it too.��” Rio impersonates Agatha’s sultry coyness.

You hum, blissfully imagining Agatha cradling your head closer to her. You join Rio in theorizing what Agatha might say next.

“’I think our bunny wants to taste your cum, Daddy.’”

“Yeah? How would you want it, bun?”

The burning in your stomach threatens to swallow you whole as you imagine the different ways you could get a taste of the mess Rio made in this dream you’re both working to weave.

“I’d want you to get as much of your cum out of your underwear as you could then rub it all over Mommy’s hole.”

You ghost a kiss over Rio’s lips that she tries to chase and continue before she can claim your lips.

“I’d want to hear her groan… To have to chase her nipple and relatch because she’s pushing back so far into you as soon as you start to push your cum inside her ass.”

Rio nuzzles into your neck and you gently scratch the nails of your free hand up and down the back of her neck. Her skin pebbles in goosebumps and you can feel your own warmth radiating off of your center and through her briefs. Kissing the shell of her ear, you continue in a whisper.

“Then I’d want her to turn around and face you as she straddles my face. She’d bring her asshole to my lips and then it’d be my turn to eat Mommy’s ass.” You revel in your heady, horny stupor and swipe your tongue against Rio’s ear. “As soon as I start using my tongue to clean your cum out of her she’d pull my legs up against her chest and pull my underwear off.”

Rio’s breath burns heavier against your neck and you’ll do anything to encourage it.

“She’d hold both of my legs up with one arm and run her fingers all over my cunt. Her hand would get soaked because I’d be dripping. She’d use it to coat your cock as she pulled it out.”

You emphasize the idea by freeing just the head of Rio’s cock. It burns white hot against the soft swell of your belly, egging you on.

“She’d tap you against my clit…giggle when my hips jerk towards you. She’d line you up but let go so she could get a better grip on both of my legs. She’d have them locked in place, my thighs would be as tight as a vice. You’d have the perfect view of my little pink pussy.”

Rio’s whines when you release her cock and neither of you are sure if its in complaint or gratitude. You scratch your nails lightly down her back and satisfaction pulses through your veins at the responding chills that bloom over Rio’s body.

“You’d probably worry you might hurt me, as tight as you know I’d be. Then you’d remember how greedy your little bunny’s hole is for you, how fucking bad I need your cock filling me up. Mommy would have to snap you out of your staring contest with my cunt. It’d be easy, though, because she knows what you’re waiting for.”

Your hands easily slip beneath Rio’s briefs and you continue your light scratching over the swell of her ass. You grab as much as you can fit in your hands of the two supple ass cheeks and wonder how Rio’s ass can be so soft and pillowy with the amount of muscle you know lays at its foundation.

“You’re always so good to me, Daddy. So patient… I know Mommy loves that you wait for her permission to tear my pussy up.”

Using the leverage of your grip, you rock Rio into your core and the base of her cock meets your cunt. Though there’s two layers of fabric between you- you feel the heat of her cock nestle between your pussy lips. You both groan in tandem- your underwear practically glued to you by the wetness that is weeping through it. When her cock head pokes more deeply into your stomach, you barely register the leaking tip before she stiffens.

She pulls away from you and you feel like she’s just spun you around in an office chair.

“Call her. Now.” Rio demands. You nod your head dumbly, focusing on her lips that are rapidly approaching yours.

She claims your mouth and the noises coming from you are needy, greedy, and would have embarrassed you prior to meeting your wives. You manage to find your phone in the pile of pillows and blankets- somehow willing your brain to act through it’s singular, screaming request: Rio.

Fumbling with the buttons does nothing but almost make an emergency call. You hold the lock button, hoping Siri can take the reigns.

“Call Agg—” You’re efforts are thwarted when Rio’s tongue easily claims your mouth again, “Fuck.”

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that. Who do you want me to call?’ Siri offers, adding insult to injury.

Rio has no intention of letting you speak. You’re not fully sure if she has any intention of letting you breathe. You break away just long enough to shout a response.

“Mommy!”

Rio freezes, pulling back to quirk a brow at you.

‘Okay, calling Aggie purple heart.’

You tap the ‘speaker’ button before you notice Rio’s cheeks flush. She seems to be toying with a question and you’re happy to take a stab at what it is.

“It works for Daddy, too.” You whisper.

Rio’s brown eyes are molten and a twinkle floats along the surface of both pools. The twinkle turns mischievous and she playfully growls before kissing you deeply and moving to suck hickies along the skin of your neck.

“Dr. Harkness.” Agatha’s voice rings monotone and bored over the speaker.

“Mommy…” You whine.

She clears her throat and Rio chuckles against you at the telltale sign that Agatha has been caught off guard and is likely flustered.

“Mommy’s at work, sweetie. Is everything okay?”

You hear shuffling and an overexcited gasp.

“I didn’t know you had kids!” A male voice rang through the phone.

Your jaw drops open and you want to laugh, but Agatha’s growling tells you that isn’t a good idea. Rio, on the other hand, snickers against you with no regard for her volume level. You pinch her ass and Rio growls through her amusement and grinds into you. You moan before you can stop it.

“SCUT, Bohner. You’re on scut for a week.”

“Bu—”

“Two weeks!”

“What did I—”

You clench around nothing, imagining the look she must be giving him. It has to be hot to warrant his resulting:

“Jeez, fine. Okay! I’m sorry.”

You hear a few more moments of shuffling before Agatha speaks lowly into the phone.

“This certainly can’t be my little bunny calling. I was promised good behavior, but it sounds like someone is being naughty.”

Between Rio’s grinding and your lack of a good excuse you can only whine in reply.

“My sweet bunny is certainly resting right now and recovering so they can get over being sick. Isn’t that right, Rio?”

Rio freezes at the mention of her name before playfully rolling her eyes.

“In my defense, I was told I would be coming home to a little baby bunny. I wasn’t prepared for encountering a sex demon.”

It’s your turn to look indignant.

“I was sleeping. She woke me up and was naked.”

“Rio!”

“I had underwear on and was about to change. I was trying to administer medicine in a timely manner and I was accosted!”

Agatha gave an unimpressed ‘hmph’ and you continued squinting at Rio. She gave you a kiss as a peace offering before defending you both.

“You’ve seen our bunny, Agatha. How could I resist our baby when they need Mommy and Daddy’s attention? I just wanted to call and make sure its okay that I keep this cunt nice and wet for you…” Rio slyly adds, “Think of how needy our little bunny will be by the time you get home…”

You can vaguely make out a whisper across the line of ‘Jesus fucking christ.’

“Fine,” Agatha feigns annoyance, but you can hear the need laced in her tone. “But neither of you are to cum until I’m home. Am I clear?”

You and Rio offer a ‘Yes, Mommy’ and ‘Yes, my love’ in tandem.

“Good. I have to get back to work. And find Bohner to make sure he keeps his mouth shut.”

Your laughter is cut off by a clear command from Rio, though you can see her biting back an amused smile.

“Behave.”

“Listen to Daddy, little love. I love you both very much. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

You all trade ‘I love you’s and promises to see each other soon. The call ends and a moment of silence falls over the room. Rio breaks first, falling into a fit of giggles.

“It’s always fucking Bohner.” She says, tone bordering on impressed.

Your bodies quake and tremble against each other as you join her in laughter.

You think little of buzz that comes from your phone until another buzz follows it immediately. You glance at your phone and notice you have two messages from Agatha. One is an image that causes you to flush in an instant. Rio cranes her head to get a good view of the picture of Agatha’s very, very wet pussy that she has spread with her fingers. Her clit stands tall and you echo agreement with Rio’s groan.

You scroll down to see the accompanying message and your body winds so tightly you’re sure it may snap on its own.

Aggie 💜

Aggie: This is where you’ll be nursing from tonight, bunny. Tell Daddy if she’s good I’ll let her put her fist in me while I fuck your little mouth.

Your swallow is an act of labor and you hear a near feral growl come from above before you are wholly consumed by Rio.

To be continued…

:----:

A/N: Hello, it me. Don't consider it a cliffhanger… Agatha is just edging us. We can't cum until she's home remember??

Also, I am a leo so if you have any spare crumbs of compliments or validation know they'll be cherished for all time.

:----:

[aheathen-conceivably]

There was one moment on the road that Antoine always dreaded. It occasionally landed somewhere between the music and the ever growing serving of whiskey that helped him to sleep at night. Josephine referred to it as “networking.”

From the moment they stepped foot in any saloon, she started the process. Talking easily with patrons or sipping her own whiskey slowly, spending nearly every moment he played eying the crowd looking for anyone worth her time. Most nights, she deemed that none of them were, and so with a tip of her cigarette Antoine knew to pack up his guitar case and make their way out of the bar. But on other nights, the nights she explained would one day be their lucky break, she would nod at him knowingly, signaling that his case was to stay in its place. Then it was time for him to smile for the circus.

Locals with money. Competing bar owners. Small-time politicians. She could spot who would be useful to her while the rest of the patrons laughed and mingled amongst themselves to the constant stream of music he played. This is how you make it, mon frère. This is how you get on a real stage. One day will be the day.

Yet for every fake smile and insincere handshake he exchanged, it was harder to remember what kept him on the road at all. A real stage. Surely that was it, wasn’t it? The reason why he left his family and felt his life draining away from him one mile at a time.

A real stage.

Through the deafening sound of his own music still ringing in his ears, Antoine could hear Jo saying something to him in a lacquered voice. The words didn’t matter. He could tell from her plastic smile what she really meant. Speak. Speak for the circus. “George here was asking about our days in New Orleans. Said it was a waste not to advertise such a past on your billing.”

Antoine nodded on cue, repeating an anecdote about playing with Louis Armstrong that every white man, woman, and child out here seemed to love. Following his own script, the man slapped his knee and laughed in turn. Jo took the moment his eyes were closed to look back at Antoine approvingly. The perfect smile. The perfect smile for the circus.

Only there was something in her demeanor that made Antoine uneasy. Every movement she made was calculated and dangerously observant. In the milliseconds the man’s eyes were closed, she watched him with the focus of a cat. Only the moment before he snapped them open, the perfect smile returned to her face. It reminded Antoine of someone he couldn’t quite name, and yet the man never seemed to notice at all.

“George here was telling me all about his dance halls while you played.” Even though she was turned in the other direction, Antoine could tell that the words were meant for him. “Seems he has thoughts about their superiority to our friend Hosa’s establishments.”

“Well now missy I’m not trying to step on my dear Mr. Grove’s toes.” He had said the words jovially, undercutting what Antoine could only imagine was a longer and more storied relationship than he had the patience for. “I simply think a dance hall would suit you better is all. These saloons, they’re old fashioned. You oughta have a crowd packed into the place just for you, not servin’ as some backing track to an old drunkard's night.”

Antoine could see his sister’s light arched eyebrow and upturned lip on the left side of her face; she was sure not to let it reach the right. “Well I happen to agree with you. Trouble is we’ve got a contract and a tight schedule at that.”

George’s hands went up, following the song and dance of feigned civility that governed the newly gentile businesses of the West. “Well now no part of me is looking to impede on that agreement you have with Mr. Grove. I can tell you’re a smart girl. No chance you’d be talking to me with any sort of non-compete. Besides, I’m just offerin’ you stay here an extra week. Maybe two. Add some shows. Get yourself in front of a real crowd for once.”

Jo smiled at George and nodded her head delicately, and he understood the gesture without a word. He turned back toward the stage with his whiskey in hand, pretending to give them an iota of privacy while he could actually hear every word they exchanged.

Jo looked over her shoulder and smiled again, before turning back to Antoine and lowering her voice to an accented French. The unexpected lilt of a foreign accent in a desert saloon only made the man's fake joviality and thin impatience all the more evident. 

“Une vraie scène." Her voice wavered slightly and Antoine realized that for the first time all night, the look in his sister's eyes was genuine. “C'est notre chance. Nous serions fous de dire non.”

Antoine knew that she was right - that every other offer she'd leveraged or connection they'd made paled next to this one. But part of him still wanted to say no, to just admit that, God, he wanted to go home. To yell that he had done this to safeguard their lives. To remind her that they had done it. They were secure. He was heard. She was successful. What more were they chasing?

But simmering under all of those questions was one that he knew would follow him to his grave - what if this was it? What if he passed it up and never knew what happened next? What if Jo found some other act to represent and she went on the road alone with men like the one who was tapping his finger impatiently on his whiskey glass?

“D'accord. Mais une semaine. Pas deux. Je veux être à la maison pour l'anniversaire de Violette. Pas de négociation.”

Jo turned back to George and he twisted in his chair. She let a pause hang in the air as he looked at her eagerly. Then she smiled at him again, this time benevolently. “Well as I’m sure you can imagine it puts us in a bit of a pinch. This contract alone already keeps us on the road for months on end. And if he’s going to play without a guarantee of continued work and in addition to the schedule we’ve already set, we’ll need double what we're paid now.”

She stopped, purposefully running her finger along the rim of her glass to let him watch her hand move. “And come on. I know you came here for a reason - just to see him play and find out if he was really as good as your scouts told you he was."

The man chuckled, and Jo smiled in the same way that had unnerved Antoine earlier. Only this time, she let the man watching her see it too. “Plus, I know that Hosa has been pulling significant portions of your clients anytime he has Antoine on stage. He's costing you money. You pay us double and you’re only putting that money right back in your pocket. Otherwise Hosa hears you've been trying to poach his talent and writes in a non-compete. Then good luck finding an act all over again.”

George tried to keep her gaze locked in his but she didn't flinch. Meanwhile his eyes flickered back and forth to Antoine over her shoulder. “Fine, missy. You drive a hard bargain, you know that? Sir, anyone ever tell you your girl here drives a hard bargain?”

Jo laughed triumphantly at his acquiescence, sure to keep the sound just girlish enough so that he didn’t feel threatened. Then she picked up the whiskey that she hadn't touched since he had sat at her table.

Smile for the circus, mon frère. Play the game. We've always done what we have to do. As Antoine picked up his own drink her words rattled around his head like a high pitched drone. He swallowed back a mouthful with the knowledge that he wanted to pummel his fist into the man's gold plated smile. But there his sister was laughing with him, pretending like he hadn't just called her missy, or like he wasn't looking at the hem of her dress whenever he thought she wasn't looking. Antoine finished his drink in one quick swallow, his stomach starting to churn just as the burn tore through his throat.

Previous / Next

[tryandbehappy]

Why the Conflict Between Nick and June in Season 6 Feels Inevitable

When we talk about Nick’s possible “betrayal,” it’s important to see the truth: it won’t simply be about politics, alliances, or external circumstances. That’s just the surface. The real reason has been building for a long time. It’s emotional. It’s personal. And it’s been quietly growing between them, scene after scene, year after year.

It feels like they are pushing this tension to its maximum point.

I’m not certain, of course I never claim to predict the storylines but based on my observations, especially after rewatching and making videos since Season 1, the patterns are crystal clear.

So no matter what political situation they put around it, that’s just noise. The real story is much deeper.

It seems that soon June will ask Nick to do something wildly reckless.

Something that will cost him too much.

And just before that, there might be a moment of closeness, a moment when he once again feels like she hasn’t fully chosen him. After cheating on his wife

And there, at that tipping point, Nick will have to decide between two impossible choices.

On one side, his need for safety, for survival, for the fragile life he finally built.

On the other, her fire, her recklessness, her need for him to burn everything down for her one more time.

And maybe for the first time, he simply won’t be able to do it.

The First Core Conflict: Different Natures

Nick always chooses safety.

June always chooses risk.

And there’s something that’s important to understand about Nick.

His need for caution, for staying quiet, for keeping his head down it’s not because he’s naturally cold or unfeeling.

In fact, we know Nick can be impulsive.

We saw it in his backstory, when he punched a man without thinking. He has fire. He has emotion.

But Gilead taught him something brutal:

If you stand out, you die.

He learned to survive in a world where any mistake, any rash move, could cost everything.

He’s seen too many people disappear. Too many friends executed.And so he buried that impulsiveness deep down.

He taught himself to live by quiet, invisible rules because that was the only way to stay alive.

And June…

June with her wild spirit, her refusal to bow, her fearless defiance —

She terrified him. Not because he didn’t admire her.

He loved her for it. But because he knew exactly how fragile life was in Gilead.

And every time she risked herself, Nick knew there was a real chance he wouldn’t be able to save her.

And that fear, that helplessness,

is part of what’s been tearing him apart all along.

It’s been there since the beginning.

In Season 1, Nick told her to say what the Eyes wanted to hear, to stay silent and survive.

She didn’t listen and was beaten.

In Season 2, she screamed for the keys to the truck, ready to make a reckless escape alone, and he could only watch in agony.

Or After June’s confrontation with Fred, when she was hurt and her face was bruised, Nick found her.

He immediately realized something terrible had happened. He was so worried and helpless like AGAIN??? Why do you always have to be like this?

“It’s okay” she told softly knowing situations like this piss him off

Again and again, Nick has tried to anchor her.

Again and again, June has followed her fire.

Even in Season 6, when they meet, Nick says, “maybe keep a low profile”

“It’s hard for me sometimes”

“I remember”🫠

It’s not just about strategy.

It’s about the fundamental way they live.

The Second Core Conflict: Different Understandings of Love

June believes she is choosing Nick with her heart.

But Nick feels she is not choosing him at all.

Because Luke is still in her life. Because she stays with him, out of loyalty or guilt.

And Nick — Nick who loves once and fully — cannot be second. Cannot be half-loved and a secret (I can assume he hates cheating)

To him, her hesitation feels like rejection. Even if she doesn’t intend it.

Where It’s Heading

The pressure is reaching its breaking point.

Nick already saved Luke.

Nick already killed two Guardians to protect her. And then had to do dirty work by ending the one in a coma.

Nick already risked his life, his standing, his future all for a woman who, in his heart, he feels has never fully chosen him.

And now, June will probably ask him for something even bigger. Something even more dangerous.

And he will have to say no or whatever.

Not because he doesn’t love her.

But because he cannot keep destroying himself for a love that is killing him.

This is where the real fracture will come. Not from politics. Not from loyalty to Gilead or the Americans.

But from two hearts finally reaching the point where they cannot pretend anymore.

And in the end, we have to remember:

this conflict isn’t being built to destroy them, it’s being built to resolve them.

Yes, the tension between June and Nick will explode.

Yes, it will look, for a moment, like they are losing each other for good.

There will be hurt, betrayal, anger.

There will be a breaking point.

But the real purpose of this storyline isn’t to tear them apart.

It’s to finally bring everything to the surface —

all the buried feelings, all the unspoken pain, all the unfinished choices.

They won’t be able to just walk away and pretend it didn’t happen.

They won’t be able to leave this fracture unresolved.

And the show will have to give us clarity:

What really happened between them.

What they truly feel.

I truly believe that after all the hurt,

after the inevitable collapse,

their real feelings will finally break free.

And only then,

only after everything has been stripped bare,

will we finally get our answers.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

In Class 2

I was going to wait to binge watch the rest of the show tomorrow but honestly I need to put this show behind me for several reasons. Let me just get this out of the way before I say anything else. I am a big fan of the manhwa, simple as it may be. I have lived with these characters in my head for two years now. So my bias is clearly showing. But one thing that I want to make perfectly clear. Just because I love the manhwa, and admittedly I have a bias, does not mean I am dense, and incapable of watching and judging the show as it's own thing. I still have a brain. Ok. Now for the show. This usually goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. These are my opinions. Read at your own risk.

This is not a bad show. It's also not a bl. And that fact alone, makes this a bad adaptation. Let’s be honest, they adapted a bl and turned it into something that’s not a bl any more, as many have stated before. This is a kdrama with queer themes. Liking the show, and even acknowledging that it’s good, doesn’t change that fact. And if people honestly can't understand why people would have a problem with that, then nothing I will say about it will make a difference.

Now for the actual show. As a kdrama this isn't a bad series. The characters have depth, the astronomy metaphors are clever, even if at times they felt really heavy-handed, the acting is really good, for the most part, and there are some brilliant scenes that could make this show a great one. But it doesn't all come together. It's inconsistent. And it doesn't commit to its queerness. It's a series that was made two years ago, and it shows. Maybe even further back, actually. Which, regardless of my feelings for the source, is just sad. I'm not a romance kdrama watcher so I have no real frame of reference in that regard. But it seems like this show wanted to be a couple of different things but ended up not being either. It's not queer enough to be a bl, but it's too queer to be mainstream. It's not hard to see why this show couldn't find distribution for two years. They were aiming for mainstream but that was never gonna happen two years ago. Well, it didn't happen right now either, so...

My favourite part was the sisters. I love them. I think their various adventures in dating were really important as a parallel to Heesu. Which is one of the reasons I don't think the Chanyoung and JiYu couple were necessary to drive that point home. Nor do I think that's why they were there. One of my favourite scenes was Heesu coming out to his sister. And her reaction basically being, "Oh, I should say I love him now, that's what one should do in this situation." It was so well done.

Ahn Ji Ho was great as Heesu. Just really great. His emotions shined through beautifully throughout the whole series. Lee Sang Jun also did an amazing job as Seung Won. His physicality was on point at all times. I love these two so much. 

I think time was not used efficiently here. Mostly with the queer couple. I live for pining besties. But by episode 9, there were way too many chances and everything with the hets was already in the open, so why stretch it out? Cause it feels purposefully stretched. The editing in the final two episodes was a mess and I kept wondering what might've been left on the cutting room floor. It just didn't flow at all, and I kept getting pulled out of the emotional journey. It really seemed like they were forced to have 10 episodes but they couldn't really give us more than 5 minutes of the boys together so they made a mess of things in the final stretch.

I think the friendship between Heesu and Chanyoung was the weaker part of all this. They never felt, to me, like best friends. A lot of times, there's an issue with friends to lovers, which is the blurring of lines. You are crushing on your best friend, so everything becomes deeper, more hurtful, than if he was just your best friend.  I think for the most part, Heesu navigated this pretty well. We've certainly seen much worse. He slipped sometimes and messed up, but he never really stopped being by Chanyoung's side. 

However, this is still a very unbalanced friendship, mostly because of Chanyoung. He makes fun of Heesu for not having any friends, but it seems like he has the same problem. Cause it seems like he only reaches out to Heesu when he has a problem. He comes and goes as he pleases, and if he hadn't been sleeping at his house and seen Heesu unable to sleep, I doubt he would've noticed anything was wrong with Heesu at all. I'm not saying Heesu was a perfect friend, btw. But the confession scene and the subsequent summoning of Heesu to the tennis court where Chanyoung could feel safe, where he literally has home court advantage, where he could throw balls at Heesu, was a step too far for me. (Also, JiYu, you could do better!)

I liked the final three minutes because I have a heart. And I could finally watch my boys be together even if only for a short time. But it came too late and it stumbled too much to get there for me to feel the level of joy that I usually get. I think I needed more of them throughout the show to feel that same sense of joy when they moved past all the hurdles and finally got together.

I think maybe I should stop now. I think I could forgive more about this show if it was actually mainstream. If I could say, you know what? At least we're getting a queer coming of age story in a mainstream kdrama. I might still not like that they chose this manhwa for it, because there’s no shortage of those, so to pick one that is just about two boys falling in love and little else confuses me. But at least then I could feel like something was accomplished here. As it stands, I'm just left disappointed by a show that I had been waiting for since I first read the manhwa a couple of years ago.

[in-my-loki-feels]

Lokius 😱 (H/C #13) for the bed sharing prompts? (Whichever flavor of Lokius variants strikes your fancy is just fine with me 😉)

Thank you for the prompt and for letting me pick the flavor! I got bit by the cowboy Lokius bug and, in my usual fashion, went way overboard. Sorry to dump 3k on you instead of a nice short fill, but I hope you enjoy it! (Feel free to add it to your TBR list 🤣)

Happy Yee Haw Sunday, everyone!

😱 Can't fall asleep (danger)

CW blood, mild injury description

The gunshots came first. Then the shouts for help. 

Mobius wheeled his horse around, one hand dropping to his revolver, and saw a man almost falling over himself as he ran towards them. Mobius had accompanied the stagecoach along its full route, worried about recent robberies, but it seemed trouble had found him in the next town over instead of on the road. This wasn’t his town to protect, but that wouldn’t stop him wantin’ to help.

“Shoot out!” the newcomer gasped. He wore an apron so it wasn’t much of a surprise when his next words were, “Saloon!”

There were gasps from those inside the stagecoach and the crowd that’d come to meet them.

Mobius swung down, hastily wound Brandy’s reins around the nearby hitching post, and pulled his rifle free of the saddle holster. The bartender came to a stumbling halt and Mobius grabbed his arm to keep him upright. 

“What happened?”

“S-shoot out. Dunno why. Jus’ had one customer, then some men came in—mean lookin’ fellas—and next thing I knew, they all started shooting!” 

“Where’s your sheriff?” 

The bartender shrugged helplessly. With Mobius’ luck, whoever looked after this town was sleeping off a long night of drinking somewhere. 

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, but he headed in the direction the bartender had come. The street had emptied, though not everyone had retreated inside. Gawkers pressed against buildings, watching him pass with wide eyes. Some people had no sense. 

Mobius flinched as another gunshot sounded, but it was just the one. It was a reminder for him to get his own damn self out of the street. He went left, hurrying along the building fronts. A few people still lingering to watch ducked out of his way. The general store sat on a corner, with the saloon around the bend, so Mobius paused there to peer around the building. 

A man in dusty black clothes stood out front, two pistols in hand. Mobius’ heart stopped, until he looked closer and saw the man’s profile was all wrong. Another figure in black lay crumpled in a heap on the saloon steps. 

“How much longer you gonna hide in there?” the man called to whoever was still in the saloon. “I got more men comin’ than you got bullets.” 

Well, wasn’t this a real bag o’ nails. The man could be bluffing, but if he was tellin’ the truth, whoever was trapped was in real trouble. Mobius didn’t know what their argument was—and frankly didn’t care. He only wanted to keep the town from being shot up any more than it already was. 

“How ‘bout we—” The rest of what Mobius planned to say was lost when he ducked back ’round the corner to dodge a bullet. The onlookers nearby finally went inside. Thank the Lord. Mobius stayed where he was and raised his voice. “Look, fellas, I got no quarrel with ya, but you need to take this outta town.” 

There was a brief pause, followed by a man—he assumed the man in black—yelling, “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Nobody,” Mobius answered. “I’m just lookin’ out for the townsfolk.” Naming himself might get even more bullets sent his way. 

“Mind yer own business!” 

Mobius chanced a look around the corner and saw the man had split his attention between the door of the saloon and Mobius’ hiding spot. There had been no movement from inside the building. 

“You sure anyone’s even alive in there?” Mobius said. “Your business might be finished already.”

Another silence, during which Mobius took another look. The man was watching the saloon doors, considering Mobius’ words. 

Mobius said, “Let me come out and we can go have a look together. How’s that sound?”

A shorter pause before the response came. 

“Alright, come on out, but keep yer hands up.” 

He didn’t say anything about weapons so Mobius took a chance. He raised both hands, one still holding his rifle, and began to slide around the corner. At this distance, he couldn’t see the man’s face clearly, but he caught the sudden narrowing of his eyes. 

“A sheri—” 

The first shot caught the man in the shoulder, spinning him around. The second dropped him like a stone. Mobius crouched, heart pounding, and waited for follow-up shots. The man had stood out there so long, Mobius really had thought the person inside must be dead or out of bullets. 

“Goddamn it,” he muttered again. Now he had to hope whoever was left had more sense than the dead men. 

He slid around the corner and hurried to the side of the saloon building. The man in the street had been in plain sight, but Mobius had the advantage of cover. 

“Alright,” he called, “if that man was tellin’ the truth, you ain’t got long before company shows up. Your best bet is lettin’ me in, so I can see about helpin’ you out of town.” 

Silence was his answer. Were they finally out of ammo? Succumbed to their wounds? Mobius hunched over—wincing as his back protested—and tried to stay below the windows as he crept towards the doorway. He paused there, but there was still no response. 

“I’m comin’ in.” He took a deep breath and then stood, raised his hands, and pushed through the doors. 

The saloon was a mess. Tables and chairs overturned, bottles behind the bar shot out. There were two more bodies, dressed much like the ones outside. So far, it seemed to match the bartender’s story of a gang ambushing one person. No sign of who that was, though. 

“Anyone alive in here?”

“Unfortunately,” came the strained response. Mobius’ stomach dropped. The voice had come from behind the bar and was worryingly familiar. He pushed his way through the mess and came around the edge of the counter to see Loki Laufeyson sprawled on the floor, half-propped up against the bar, his gun steady on Mobius. 

“Goddamn it.”

Loki wore his usual all black getup, but he had one hand pressed to his thigh and the palm was stained dark red. Mobius almost swore again, for all the good it would do. 

“What the hell’re you doin’ here?” 

“Enjoying a whiskey,” Loki said, feigning calm; his voice gave away the pain he must’ve in. “At least until this lot showed up.”

“And what did they want with you?” 

Loki shrugged. “I have made a great many enemies over the years.” 

“Yeah, well, I ain’t exactly been making friends either.” A lawman never did. Mobius glanced at the door. “Any idea if he was telling the truth about more comin’?” 

Loki finally lowered his revolver. “It’s possible. There are more of them than I shot here.” 

Mobius smoothed down his mustache and tried to keep a cool head. Last he’d seen of Loki, the outlaw had been slippin’ out of Mobius’ house before the sun had come up. That was how most of their encounters went these days and as grateful as Mobius was to see him, he coulda asked for better circumstances.  

He set the rifle on the bar and knelt beside Loki; he didn’t miss the way Loki’s gun hand twitched. 

“Where’s your horse?” Mobius asked as he pulled off his neck kerchief. He eyed Loki’s leg, wondering if one kerchief was enough—and tried not to think about how he oughtta know with as often as he’d had his hands on Loki—then reached for Loki’s kerchief. This brought the gun back up, Loki’s eyes wide and panicked, like a cornered animal. Mobius froze, then moved more slowly, turning Loki’s kerchief around so he could untie it. 

Then he tied the two together and tapped the hand Loki had pressed to his wound. 

“I need to bind this before you bleed out,” he said as calmly as he could; his stomach was churning at the thought. Loki’s chest was rising and falling too quickly for the composed facade he was clinging to, but he lowered the gun and moved his hand, looking away. 

Mobius wrapped the makeshift bandage around Loki’s thigh, wincing when Loki hissed in pain. He didn’t even know if the bullet was still in there—something he’d have to figure out once he got Loki out of here. If he could do that, if Loki didn’t die on the way. 

He shut that thought right down, rising to peer over the bar. Still no sign of anyone outside. He looked down at Loki, who watched him warily. 

“Where’s your horse?” 

“Out back.” 

And Mobius’ was with the stagecoach. His mind spun with possible plans. Did the townsfolk know who Loki was? The bartender hadn’t said Laufeyson was cornered, so they might not. Mobius could claim he was taking Loki to safety, but what would happen if word got out that the man he helped was the infamous bandit? Should he reveal who it was and say he was takin’ him in? Mobius didn’t see Loki going along with that one. 

“Can you ride?” Mobius asked, and couldn’t help the dubious note in his voice. It sparked annoyance in Loki’s eyes. He grit his teeth and dragged himself to his feet, leaning his weight heavily on the uninjured leg. 

“Of course I can.” 

Stubborn son of a bitch.  

“Two bucks says you collapse a mile outta town.” Loki’s glare bounced off him. “Look, here’s what we’re gonna do.” 

—

Loki refused at first—too uppity for such an undignified plan, Mobius guessed—but he must’ve been hurtin’ more than he let on because he didn’t push past Mobius to take his chances on his own. Mobius just hoped he didn’t bleed out before they got out of town. 

Mobius went through the doors of the saloon first to stand on the porch. 

“Everything’s alright now.” He spotted the bartender—along with several others—peering around the corner he’d used for cover. “Any sign of your sheriff?” 

The man shook his head, then cautiously came out of hiding. “They all dead?” 

“’Fraid so, and your bar’s a mess.” 

The man looked dismayed but not surprised. 

“Your customer was a wanted man, so I’m takin’ the body with me to report it. I don’t recognize the rest of ‘em.” He gestured to the bodies on the steps and in the dirt. “Maybe your sheriff will have some idea.” 

“O’course. T-thank you, sir,” the bartender stammered, and came closer to give him a clammy handshake. More people were starting to gather, but Mobius needed to get movin’. 

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Mobius said, and he really hadn’t. Unless you counted him distracting the bandit so Loki could take the shot. “Can someone fetch my horse while I get the body?” 

Every time he referred to Loki as a body, his chest tightened, but he tried not to show it. He went back inside, crossing to the bar quickly, before anyone followed him in. Loki was sitting out of sight, still conscious.

“You ready?” Mobius asked. 

Loki grit his teeth. “As much as I can be, I suppose.” He holstered his pistol, but tension radiated from him. 

“This’ll probably hurt,” Mobius said apologetically. “Jus’ try to keep quiet.” 

Loki’s eyes narrowed—as if he could look any more mad than he already was—but he said nothing as Mobius knelt down and pulled him closer. For a second, it was like they were about to embrace and Mobius’ breath caught at the thought. Then he bent and dragged Loki’s weight across one shoulder.

Loki made a noise through gritted teeth, his whole body tense, as Mobius staggered to his feet. Before Mobius could remind him, Loki went limp, his arms hanging down Mobius’ back. Mobius put a hand on Loki’s thigh, half-covering the kerchief bandage. He was glad the redness in his face could be attributed to the strain of carrying a grown man. Then he went out back. 

This was the hard part: transferring Loki to his horse. Mobius did it as carefully as he could, draping Loki sideways over the saddle. He knew it wasn’t painless but Loki stayed quiet. Seeing him like that reminded Mobius too much of when he’d taken Loki’s man back to bury him. He had to reach out and put a hand on Loki’s back to feel his breaths, shallow they might be. 

Loki’s mount nudged Mobius with his nose. Good thing all those apple bribes had brought the horse around, or this plan wouldn’t have worked. 

“Go easy now,” Mobius murmured as he gathered the reins, then slowly led the horse around to the front of the saloon. 

There were far more people gathered now, but someone had fetched Brandy, who whickered when she caught sight of him. Or maybe she was greetin’ the black stallion followin’ him.

“Thank ya kindly,” Mobius said, bringing Loki’s horse close enough to tie the reins to Brandy’s saddle. He looked around, catchin’ eyes with the bartender. “If anyone comes along, you tell ’em exactly what happened: there was a shootout and then Sheriff Mobius took the wanted man’s body with him when he left.” 

That’d put trouble on their tail, but Mobius didn’t want these innocent people getting tangled up in somethin’ that wasn’t their business. He swung up into the saddle and turned Brandy towards home, nudging her into as gentle a walk as he could. With Loki’s mount in toe, he headed out of town. 

Loki wouldn’t make it the whole way back in the condition he was in, so Mobius’ plan was to find a place to hole up and let the outlaw recover enough to ride on his own. On the way into town, he’d seen a spot that could work: a rocky hill with enough trees to obscure them. It would be an obvious place for anyone chasin’ them to look, but they weren’t exactly spoiled for choices. 

Once in cover, Mobius slid off his horse and hurried over to Loki, who had remained still and silent the whole ride. 

“Loki?” He put a hand on Loki’s back and felt his heartbeat, weak as it was. 

“Mobius…” Loki attempted to lift himself up and started to slide off the saddle feet-first. Mobius caught him with both arms around his waist, before Loki’s weight could land on his injured leg. Loki groaned at the sudden stop.

“I gotcha,” Mobius murmured and flushed at the intimacy of the hold. Not the time or place, he reminded himself. He dragged Loki over to the most shaded spot and lowered him down. Then he went to move the horses out of sight. 

He couldn’t help looking over at Loki again and again, watching for signs he was getting worse. Loki was propped up against a rock, eyes closed and lips pressed together tightly. He was awake, for now. 

One eye cracked open as Mobius came back to his side with a water bag, but he wouldn’t let Mobius help, taking it from him and raising it to his lips. Mobius chose not to comment on how Loki’s hand shook, instead looking at the wound. The kerchiefs were stained but with all the jostling, it weren’t a surprise to see it had bled more.

“Is the bullet in there?” 

Loki shook his head. “Passed through.” He glanced down, then away. “Or so I believe.” 

Mobius chewed his lip. “Can I check?” 

Loki eyed him, pale, drenched in sweat, and still looking dangerous as hell. Then he looked away again. “If you must.” 

Mobius placed a hand lightly on Loki’s thigh, feeling him twitch, then slid it around to the underside. It felt intimate, even under these circumstances. He probed with his fingers cautiously along the edge of the kerchief, then pulled back when Loki suddenly hissed. A knot in Mobius’ stomach loosened. 

An exit wound meant Loki wouldn’t have to suffer Mobius diggin’ around in his leg. Didn’t mean they were out of danger yet.

“We should wash it,” Mobius said. The outlaw pressed his lips together, then took a shaky breath and said, tersely, “Fine.” 

Aware they might be on borrowed time, Mobius worked as quickly as he could. He used one of Loki’s knives to cut his pant leg open so he could rinse the wound with water before following with liberal splashes of whiskey. Loki paled even further but stayed conscious. Mobius dug through his saddlebags for a clean shirt and tore it into strips to rebind Loki’s wound. 

He half-expected a dry comment about how often Mobius ruined his own clothing for Loki, but the outlaw seemed too focused on staying awake. Once done, Mobius checked the path they’d taken but saw no signs of pursuit yet. 

“Sun’s goin’ down,” he said, unnecessarily, but it got Loki’s attention. “You get some rest and we might be able to leave in the mornin’. I’ll keep watch til then.” 

Loki was looking a mite bit cornered again, which made Mobius sigh. 

“You went along with all that—” he waved towards the horses “—but can’t trust me to guard you while you sleep?” He could’ve pointed out the number of times Loki had seen fit to sleep in Mobius’ presence, but maybe the sex made that different. 

Or being wounded and vulnerable. 

Mobius blew out a breath and went back to the horses. He’d left the saddles on, in case they needed a hasty getaway, but he could brush around them. 

“Not like I’m stickin’ my neck out enough as is,” he grumbled to himself. Brandy flicked her tail in agreement, or so he told himself. Loki’s mount had nothing to add on the subject. 

He half-expected Loki to have passed out when he came back, but the outlaw was still awake…barely. 

Keepin’ himself conscious out of pure spite, Mobius thought grumpily. 

He began gathering up the remains of his shirt and damn near jumped outta his skin when Loki grabbed his wrist. He looked up into green eyes set in a face tense with pain. 

“Thank you, Mobius,” Loki said quietly. Mobius’ traitorous heart flipped in his chest. He laid a hand over Loki’s. 

“’Course. Get some rest. I’ll wake ya if I hear anythin’.”

Loki stared at him a moment more, then gave a small nod. He closed his eyes, head tipped back against the rock, and was out like a light. Mobius watched him—the frighteningly pale skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the slightly parted lips he knew too well—and went to shove the scraps of his shirt in his saddle bags. When he came back, he leaned against the rocks opposite Loki where he’d have a view of the road, rested his rifle in the crook of his arm, and prepared for the long night ahead.

From this prompt list. Other fills will be under this tag.

[maria111444]

Shifter’s!!! you need to read this posttt ahhh l cant believe this is reall and this really happened !!!!

So basically l got little bored and thought why not l tell my lil brother about shifting and let him try it

For context : l have a brother he’s in 5th grade and l thought as hes still a child his imagination is more vivid than me so l didnt care abt him believe in me or laughing at me as you know kids are rebel and say things in front of ur face

Anyways so basically its was evening and l was watching tv w my brother then l thought why not l tell him about shifting so l searched shifting on tv and showed a video to him after that l explained him shifting by giving him example from marvel multiverse theory and at first he was like are u crazy and was kinda making fun of me but then somehow he got serious and started asking me the process then l told him how to do it (if you guys wanna know the process l told him let me know l’ll post it)

Then he said he’ll try tonight his dr was a game dr obviously cause his a kid

After that l didnt thought he’ll try he’ll probably wakeup and tell me he forget abt it but inside my head l told myself he shifted (l was manifesting it)

In the morning l didnt asked him nor he told me anything l almost forget abt it but after sometime l was doing my morning studying he came into my room bashing the door jumping and screaming I FORGET TO TELL YOU THAT

I SHIFTED LAST NIGHTTTT

i was soooo shocked that this bitch shifted at his first try wtffffff and l asked him really???

First l thought he was lying but no man the spark in his eyes were soo real and the way he told me everything he said he did exactly how l told him to and he shifteddd to his game dr and it was so fun he remembers everything so vividly and he was probably there for 2hours as he said

This is your sign that shifting is definitely real l was also shocked and now all of my doubts abt shifting is gone

(Let me know if you want to know more details abt how he shifted which process l told him to shift)

#shifting #shiftingrealities #shiftingjourney #shiftingstory #realityshifting #shifttok #shiftblr #shiftingcommunity #shiftingexperience #myshiftingstory #shifted #shiftingupdate #drshifting #desiredreality #waitingroom #shiftingsuccess #shiftingmethod #shiftingmethods #scripting #shiftingprogress #luciddreaming #astralprojection #parallelrealities #multiverse #reality #realitybending #lawofassumption #lawofattraction #manifestation #quantumjumping #timelinejumping #shiftingupdate #shiftingblog #shiftstories #shiftingsupport #shiftingcommunitysupport #dreamreality #shiftingrealm #shiftingadvice #shiftinghelp #shiftingpositivity #shiftingaffirmations #shiftingmotivation #shiftingencouragement #shiftingguide #shiftedreality #realityshiftingstory #shiftingexperiencepost #shiftingdimensions #dreamrealityshifting

[somethingg5]

Chapter 7

Azzi 39 weeks 

2:34 in the morning 

Azzis eyes flash open. Her stomach was tense. And then it happened. A contraction. “AH- mhm!” Azzi yelled trying to get up. Paige woke up and went to help Azzi up. “Babe, are you okay? Another braxton hick?” Paige questioned rubbing circles on Azzis back. “I don't know. This one was strong.” Azzi was bent over on the bed while Paige was massaging her back. They were far apart but they were happening. “Do you think we should time them?” Paige asked as they were taking walks around the house. “I think so.” Paige took out her phone to log the next one and when it came she started the timer. They were 15 minutes apart. Azzi was doing the breathing that she remembered from the books she read and Paige was trying not to panic. They spent the next 3 hours just walking and sitting on the couch. Their contractions slowed down so they decided to get some more sleep. 

Azzi woke up not really in pain but just uncomfortable. She felt like she had to pee. On her way to the bathroom she felt a gush. Her water had just broken. “Shit.” Azzi was just frustrated. All she wanted to do was sleep but now she had to clean up the mess and change. That wasn't until Paige felt the absence of Azzi in the bed and woke up. “Azzi, where are you?” Paige asked. “I'm in the bathroom.” Azzi responded. “My water just broke. I'm like 99% sure unless I just peed myself.” Azzi tried to make a joke but Paige was running to her. “Wait what! Your water broke?” Paige took in the site of Azzi changing and the puddle of fluid on the ground. Paige jumped into action and cleaned up the bathroom floor. “Paige I think we should call the doctor like do we go now?” Azzi was done changing and made her way back to the bed while she watched Paige finish cleaning the floor. “Alright I'll give her a call in a second.” Paige stood up and threw away the paper towels. She called the doctor. “Hello My name is Paige Bueckers and my wife Azzi Bueckers is a patient with you. Her water just broke. She is 38 weeks and about 4 hours ago she was having contractions 15 minutes apart. Should we come in?” Paige spoke oddly calmly. “Come in when her contractions are 10 minutes apart.” The phone call ended and Paige and Azzi stayed awake wondering if today they would meet their baby girl. They had been going through last minute baby names they still haven't felt like they found. Millie, Charlie, Liyah, Noelle, Joy all these names and none really hit them. Azzis contractions started to become 11-12 minutes apart and they realized that this was closer than they thought. Paige had decided to call Nika so that she knew what was going on and Paige called Azzis parents as well as hers. Paige packed the car and then it was a waiting game. They sat together breathing in their house of 2 but soon to be 3. 

Azzis contractions reached 10 minutes apart and they decided to head to the hospital. It was 8am in the morning. Azzi was in so much pain and Paige wanted to help but there was nothing that she could do. They got checked in and they got to the room. Everything was so real now. The baby monitors the baby bed. All of it was so real. They were going to be moms. “Paige, I need you to promise me something. If something happens to me you go with that baby you keep her safe you are all she has." Paige just nodded. She knew nothing would happen to Azzi but Azzi needed to say it. Paige walked Azzi through more breathing and rubbed her back. Paige walked with her in the halls and she did anything Azzi needed. It wasn't long before it was time to push. “Alright Azzi its time, can you give us one big push?” The doctor said Paige held one of Azzis legs and her hand as Azzi pushed. “You got this baby, you are doing so good.” Paige hated seeing Azzi in pain. Azzi was crying and screaming. Azzi had switched positions 4 times now to get the baby out when there was a splash and then crying. 

This whole day has been a blur for Azzi. From the early morning to the intense amount of pain that she was currently in. “Come on Azzi you got this.” Paige said as she held Azzis hand. “UGH I can't do this!” Azzi yelled as she pushed everything off of her. “Az- look at me. YOu CAN do this, you are the only one who can do this. You have been so strong this whole time, do not give up. You are so close to meeting your baby. You can do it.” Paige kisses her head and grabs Azzis hand again. Paige has been feeding Azzi ice chips and running her fingers through her curls. 

“Oh my god.” Azzi laid back and looked down. “Oh my gosh she is here Azzi she is beautiful. You did it.” Paige kissed Azzi, tears streaming down both of their faces. Their baby was crying. “This baby definitely has a pair of lungs, good job mama.” The doctor handed the baby over to the nurse and Paige followed the baby. “Hi there baby, I'm your mom. You did so well.” Paige touched the baby's face. 

After things had settled Paige, Azzi, and their baby were sitting on the bed. They were staring at each other wondering what to do now. “Do you think she needs something?” Azzi looked at Paige who still had tears in her eyes. “No, I think she's just happy.” 

“Hello Mrs. Bueckers, you have some visitors, KK, Caroline, Ice, and Nika? Is it okay to let them in?” A nurse said. “Yes please let them in.” Paige said standing up from her spot next to Azzi and the baby. “Hey twin! It's good to see you!” Paige says, opening the door for Nika. “Oh my gosh she's perfect. Paige, she looks just like you. Her eyes!” Nika talked over to the baby. “Nika, would you like to hold her?” Azzi passes the baby to Nika so that she could rest. “Nika we have a question… Az and I were thinking that if something were to happen to us we need someone to take care of her. We want to be able to trust that person that they would love and protect her over anything. We were hoping you would be her godmother?” Paige asked while taking a spot next to Azzi. “Really… me? Yes! Of course!” Nika let the tears fall and went to kiss the baby. The rest of the girls entered the room and crowded around the baby taking pictures and holding her. 

“You know you did really well today Az, I'm so proud of you.” Paige said to Azzi without looking away from the baby being held by KK now. “I couldn't have done any of this without you. I'm so thankful to have you by my side.” Azzi responded. 

That night Paige and Azzi were sitting watching the baby sleep. “Well, she needs a name.” Paige looked at Azzi. “Yeah she does.” “You know I was thinking of Gabriella.” Paige looked at Azzi and nodded. “You know I really like that name. I think it fits her ""Hi Gabby!” So there she was Gabriella Bueckers 5lbs 2oz 18 inches.

[askponyboymcurtis]

I know what you and Curly got up to. Grounded. Two weeks. - D. Curtis

Pony started at the note for a long while. "How the hell did he find out?" He muttered, crumpling the paper in his hand.

Pushing himself off of the bed, he ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit," he groaned in disbelief. "Not again. Can't do this shit again,"

His fingers wrap around a loose strand of hair, twirling it taut against his finger and tugging at it absentmindedly. He stared at the ground, his mind racing with how to approach the situation he'd been thrusted into.

Eventually, he landed on what he was going to do: he was going to wait for Darry to get home, and confront him. He wasn't scared to confront him, or nothing. Nah, not at all. It's not like Darry might yell at him, or anything.

As he waited, Pony sat on the bed and read the copy of the Catcher and the Rye that had been recently gifted to him. But, as his eyes scanned over the words, he was barely retaining any of it.

When he heard the door open, he peaked his head out of the room, only to be met by Sodapop's face. "Soda! Do ya'know when Darry's gettin' home?"

"Pro'lly 'round ten o'clock. Why'd you ask?"

"He grounded me."

"Grounded you? Why's that?"

"I dunno. Somethin' dumb."

"Well, if you're sayin' it's somethin' dumb, that means y'know why, then, don't it?"

There's a momentary pause from Pony. A sigh pushes its way past his lips. "You gonna get mad?"

" 'Course not."

"You gonna yell?"

"Nah, Pone, when have I ever yelled at you?"

Pony takes a long deep breath. "I got high with Curly last night, 'cuz I ran outta cigarettes and somethin' embarrassing happened, but I couldn't just go without smokin', so I went to Curly's house 'nd asked if he had any cigarettes, 'nd he was smokin' a blunt, 'nd he offered it to me 'nd so 'course I said yes, even though I know I don't like weed--"

He inhales sharply. "--'Nd I don't remember what happened after that, but I remember I came home 'nd showered, 'nd washed my hair twice 'cuz I didn't want you guys to smell it, but somehow he found out 'bout it 'cuz I got a letter in my pile this mornin' about it, 'nd--"

"Hoooooold on, Pony." And before he knew it, Soda had his hands on Pony's arms, holding him tightly. "Take a deep breath, hun, you're gonna suffocate with how much you're talkin',"

Pony, in fact, didn't take a deep breath. Rather, he sat there, breathing shallow and rapid, only to be brought back when Soda grabbed his face.

"In 'nd out, c'mon. Breathe with me."

Together, they breathed slowly. Pony managed to calm down a bit, letting out a deep breath. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, knucklehead."

"Dar's gonna yell at me real bad, ain't he?"

"I won't let 'em yell,"

"He grounded me for two week, 'nd he already don't like Curly."

"Ain't nothing happened yet, 'kay? You're worryin' before anythin' even happened. It won't be too bad,"

"Swear?"

"Swear."

Soda's off to make dinner, leaving Pony to sit and wait. He felt like a lamb, waiting for his slaughter, in some twisted way. He didn't know if he could handle being yelled at by Darry.

It handed happened in a long time, not since right after he came home from Windrexville. Not since he wouldn't eat, not since he felt empty, not since his life shattered for the second time. But every time Darry would get mad at him, he couldn't help but wonder; would he hit him again?

Would his anger take over him? Would he start yelling, would he raise his hand and would everything revert to how it was that night?

Well.

it seemed he was so deep in his thoughts, that what felt like just a few minutes of thinking was well over enough time for Darry to get home. He heard the creak of the front door, quickly followed by the heavy steps of Darry's work boots.

Pony knew better than to ambush Darry the moment he walked through the door. He sat in his room, waiting for what felt like forever before he built up enough to go talk to him.

The door to his and Soda's room opens, and he strides out to meet Darry on the couch. He stops just in front of him, looking down to meet his brother's tired gaze.

"I think you groundin' me is real unfair, Darry."

Darry inhales, letting out a long sigh. "You were smokin' weed with Curly, Pony. You know I already don't like how much you've been smokin' cigarettes, and I told you I don't want you smokin' weed."

"I didn't have any cigarettes left! Neither did Curly, it was my only option,"

"You coulda gone a night without smokin',"

"it ain't that simple, Darry," Pony's hand finds its way into his hair again, pulling absentmindedly as he stammers over his words. "I was real stressed, 'nd I needed somethin' to help it."

"I ain't gonna unground you, Pony, end of story,"

Pony groaned in frustration. "But I've got practice this week-- and a meet on Friday 'nd Saturday."

"Then you go to those, then come straight home."

"But, that's not--"

"I don't want you smokin' that stuff, and you're not gonna understand that unless I do somethin' about it."

Pony grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was muttering under his breath, something real mean toward Darry. His brother pretends not to hear it.

"Go to bed, Pony. You got school in the morning."

"Whatever."

[daughterofheartshaven]

I just wrote this up somewhere else and then realized I could share it here. I've seen some people saying that the reveal that The Well was set on the Midnight planet didn't really add anything. Here was my reply to one person who had said that and asked for people who liked the addition to explain what it added for them:

Okay, I really liked this being a follow up to Midnight, and since you sent out an open invitation, I'll talk about what this adds for me. I should probably give the context that Midnight isn't really a story I like that much, so the deviations from it didn't bother me in the same way it bothered you. Meanwhile this is pretty easily my favorite 15th Doctor story so far.

Firstly, this felt like a very effective raising of the stakes in the midway point of the story. Generally in Doctor Who we open with a mystery, and then by the end of the episode the mystery is basically solved. This is a very mysterious story and up until that point I was assuming that we would solve the mystery and that would be crucial to the story, but knowing it was the midnight entity raised the possibility that the mystery was not going to be solved (and, to an extent, it wasn't in my opinion. It partially was - we figured out the mirror thing - but there's still a giant pile of unknowns). So, for me, that turned this story from a somewhat generic mystery to an "so [expletive] we're actually in REAL danger" situation, which I think the remainder of the episode followed up on by actually showing we are in that much danger. This wasn't about making the Doctor scared. This was about making ME scared.

The other reason is probably deeply connected to the fact that I've seen all of classic who and am VERY in the weeds of the expanded universe stuff and so on. It's important to me that I make it clear that I don't think this does not make my takes any more valid than anyone else's, but they also do effect what I want. And this sort of thing - returning to a planet at a different point in its history - is something this show almost never does unless the planet in question is Earth, Skaro, or Gallifrey. I can think of only a few other examples of this happening off the top of my head - Peladon and Telos, both from Classic Who, and New Earth from Modern Who. Kinda and Snakedance are an edge case (I don't promise I remembered anything, but you take my point). And all of those examples happened within a few generations of each other. Getting into the EU weeds adds maybe a couple dozen more planets that are recurring, while adding hundreds of new ones. So while Doctor Who is good at planet diversity (when they're not doing every single episode being on Earth at least), it's very rare for them to feel like they are giving their planets history. So to see a planet almost 500,000 years later and to see how knowledge was lost, how its native species evolved, and how stories of the Doctor was passed down for countless generations - or maybe this was the same entity after all this time, I don't know - was an extremely new experience in a franchise that struggles to find new experiences. I'm pretty sure that this is why this episode overtook The Robot Revolution as my favorite with 15. I can see why you said this made the universe feel smaller to you, but to me it made it feel bigger - not because of space, but because of time. I hope that makes sense and sheds a little insight into my perspective!

[randomfandomss]

Through Thomas’s Eyes

Inspired by the fic Divine Revelations of Love by Piersanti.

Read it here

[puppppppppy]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[crescentrivers]

Realistically I can’t think of a place to add Pokotho himself to TGWDLM that wouldn’t feel forced (maybe there is one though I’m not an expert on this or anything), so I hope they just hint towards his existence a little more and don’t try to actually have him show up outside of being the hive, but if he did show up… what if they got meta with it

Cause TGWDLM is the meta hatchetfield show, it’s the one where the musical numbers are diegetic and characters acknowledge they’re happening, they even acknowledge the audience at the end. And the actor who played Pokey in NPMD is the same guy who plays Bill, you know, Paul’s best friend. And what happens then if Paul has an interaction with the singular voice and he realizes they have the same face…

Actually if blue guy did show up I bet they’d make him a puppet cause I’m sure the kickstarter will get them enough money for one puppet. But please think about the implications if he was a human played by Corey

There are various implications this could have depending on why they look similar. The easy one is that Pokey did it on purpose either to make Paul less freaked out or freak him out more (which it would freak him out more either way, the question is if that was intentional or not). Alternatively if Pokey isn’t actually taking human form it could be explained as Paul’s human brain trying to process whatever he actually looks like, and landing on that, for some reason. But there’s a third option I think could be cool

If Pokotho and Paul interacted in this show I’d assume by this point Paul would be beginning to get infected himself? So he can sort of understand the perspective of this higher being, whether he wants to or not. Maybe it’s not that him and Bill actually look that similar to Paul’s eyes, maybe in his reality they have different face or nose shapes, and they certainly don’t have the same look in their eyes. But from the a perspective of a god so much bigger than humanity, human faces blend together. He can tell them apart, but mentally they’re all the same to him, noisy, annoying, forgettable, erasable. Even someone like Paul, the supposedly special star of this show, doesn’t stand out. Paul realizes that now, to someone like him Paul really doesn’t look that different physically from the camp counselor boy, or the only lawyer in town, or that highschooler with the anime shirts, all people who are in the hive now. Now actually as identical in mentality as they seemed to him.

Would it really matter, if they actually looked the same or not? Him and Bill, Paul and all those people he never really knew. Everyone’s the same now afterall, whatever’s left in Bill’s body is him. Paul is a few seconds from being him too, he’s not special, not anything more than what any of the hive’s victims had been. But he was allowed to get this far, partially because he was that ordinary and unremarkable, partially because he didn’t like musicals.

He shouldn’t be anything more than another indistinguishable face, but if that thing wants a show, he can give it to him by trying (maybe pointlessly) to destroy it.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Outrageous that I have tastes so specific that if I want to read it I have to write it myself what happens if I'm tired and sad but i want to read about ultra-spicific scenarios that only i can write but haven't written yet what then huh do I just suffer--

[artem1sc0re]

I was thinking if Alan Wake had like a gen Z/modern AU then Alan would probably be an AO3 author who frequently succumbs to the AO3 writer curse where the most absurd events start happening to him when he writes a fic

(Lovely examples of this supposed curse):

(More elaborated definition)