#‘do they really believe this one?’ ‘I don’t know how either but yes apparently some are very invested in it’

[worstloki]

Loki: Thor is sooooo smooth and aerodynamic Thor: no i'm not!!!! Loki: you won't believe how well he propels through water Thor: WHY are you SLANDERING me Loki: one time he hit into a rock so hard his particles slid right through to the other side Thor: BLATANT PROPAGANDA?!!!!!

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of abuse, anxiety / paranoia, etc. words -> 2K

abstract -> Everything was lie... did I become who I hate?

y/n's perspective

“How’d it go?” San asked me as I just got comfortable in his arms.

“You shouldn’t get too comfortable, you need to get out of these clothes,” Yeosang said and I sighed. “You guys are watching the news?” I asked as I saw the TV on. “So far they’ve captured over eighty hybrids,” Wooyoung said and I felt disgusted that such people could do such things. “How was it?” San asked and I sighed. 

“There was this duo… one of them promised to help me if I got the circus shut down. I’ll have to do interviews and then it’s over” I said and they nodded.

“Just be careful… surely they’re being tested in which codes they’ll fit into,” Yeosang said and I nodded. I was planning on leaving when I heard a buzz by the elevator. 

“Miss l/n, there are two friends of yours wanting a visit” I heard and I was confused… Wonyoung, Johnny, and Yuta were the only ones to visit me unannounced and they were allowed up here without an announcement so who?

“We’re expecting guests?” Wooyoung asked and I was just as confused as them. “They have lots of bags and suitcases. One of them is named Zhong Chenle?” he said and I felt my eyes light up. I ran to the elevator. “Yes, let them up,” I said, noticing the three boys behind me looking confused at my sudden outburst. 

“Who’s that?” Yeosang asked and I smiled. “Some friends, who used to work in the clinic but decided to study abroad in China, didn’t tell me they got back,” I said now excited to see them but I could tell that Yeosang and San weren’t happy about them. 

“We heard you adopted three hybrids but we almost didn’t believe it” I heard and sighed at the sight of them. They carried a whole lot of bags… “I told you not to get me anything” I scolded and Chenle waved it off. “Well, you should’ve expected better,” Jisung teased. I chuckled. “Isn’t that?” Jisung wandered off while looking behind me. 

“Oh? Did they not tell you about Wooyoung?” I asked and they shook their heads. “No, but I would recognize that face anywhere,” Jisung said as I saw Wooyoung wag his tail and grow a smile on his face. 

“We thought you didn’t want to see us,” Chenle asked and he sighed. “Long story, but he’s mine now,” I said and the two laughed. 

“We’ve come to leave a few things, our dorm is getting crowded,” Chenle added and I sighed. They must’ve bought a bunch of stuff for the group… “How much?” I asked and they groaned. “You know how NingNing and Wonyoung are '' Jisung said and I could already imagine the whole bunch of text they must've sent them for errands. 

“Don’t forget Johnny-hyung,” Chenle added. “Well thanks for thinking of me, was it fun?” I asked and they grinned. “You need to see Chenle’s house” Jisung fanboyed 

“Though apparently, we don’t get a break we got back yesterday and Kun and Doyoung-hyung want us in already” Chenle added and I nodded. The circus hybrids…

“They don’t seem bad” “Hmm? They’re really nice, they bribe you with expensive stuff” I heard them whisper behind me. “Good luck! Be safe, I'll be over there soon either way!” I said and they nodded as they said their goodbyes before leaving. 

I peeked inside the bags and smiled… 

“Looks like hybrid stuff,” I said and that got the three of them their attention. 

“This is so hard to find!” Yeosnag said as he looked at the lotions and perfumes. “How’d they know?” San asked and I shrugged. One of my friends must've told them…

“Pretty” Wooyoung said as he found jewelry. Just how much did they buy for me?! I even saw expensive toys and clothes. 

San seemed to like the video games and perfumes, Yeosang found all the expensive brand skincare, Whilst Wooyoung found a bunch of toys…

I needed to get ready soon for the interviews…

“Hey! That's mine, it's in my pile!” and they are already fighting… thanks a lot Chenle and Jisung.

seonghwa's perspective

This place was… paradise and hell. I know I was lucky… while others are either being taken by facilities or breeding farms. 

Most of the hybrids were red coded and very few were black codes. I was yellow… because I behaved or I wanted to trust humans. 

I was just hoping Hongjoong was still here…

“His partner is a red code so be careful. He’s well behaved but… you can’t be too sure” I heard and I saw the door open. 

It was her again!

“Press the button if you feel unsafe at any time,” the staff member said as they left her alone with me? They never do that… Some humans have passed by to adopt and there’s always someone with them.

“Hello,” she said and I smiled softly. “Thank you… you actually went through with it” I said and she nodded. 

“Now it’s time for your part,” she said and I nodded. 

“What do you need to know?” I asked and she looked at her notebook as if seeing what to ask first.

“Let’s talk about the MATZ show,” she asked and I nodded.

“Hongjoong and I are… we’re the only tigers there. We were born there but we’re not related, they decided to pair us up as an act. They decided to make it more dangerous each show… testing our limits” I said whilst she wrote it down. I wonder what she had down… was she analyzing me? Was she even qualified to?

“Can I ask you something?” I asked and she stopped writing to look at me. “Do you own hybrids? Actually, no I know you own three, why are you helping hybrids if you own them?” I asked not wanting to be dismissive about her. 

“I do, I have a panther, a Doberman, and a fox. I adopted them here actually… and besides they didn’t have a chance to get adopted by anyone else so I adopted them to help them not because I'm a hybrid collector” she explained and I nodded. Was she telling the truth?

The interview went on about details which she left to talk to the doctor. 

“Seonghwa, on your best behavior.” I heard as I saw the employee open my kennel and put on the basic safety equipment. I was led to a different area… the red codes. Most of the kennels were glass-enclosed and so I saw a lot of hybrids staring at me with threatening glares. 

I saw her again though. She was in front of a kennel that was closed. “Behave, y/n, Kun is trusting you to be careful with him. He isn't aggressive but be careful, there's a button in case you feel that you can’t handle it anymore” the employee said as the leash was now given to her. y/n is her name… where have I heard that before?

She opened the curtain…

“Hongjoong!!” I yelled as I got close to the glass. “Seonghwa? You’re okay!” he said back and I was relieved. He’s alive… but he’s a code red. 

“What are you doing with her?” he asked as he glared at her. “She’s conducting interviews with hybrids… I actually don’t know why I'm here?” I said and she sighed. “Doyoung your doctor is worried about you guys being separated since you guys are a bonded pair” she explained.

Bonded pair?

“I won’t answer any questions from the hybrid owner,” he said and she sighed. I was curious about her hybrids… it was a weird combination and she said she adopted them here. 

“You don’t need to worry about them,” she said and he laughed at her. “They are bonded to you,” Hongjoong said and I realized he was right. She’s bonded to them…

“What did you do to have three hybrids bonded to you?” he asked demeaningly and she sighed. “That's my personal business.

Currently, I'm trying to help–” “You can’t do anything. You think if you bring him here in front of me it'll save you? If I get out of this glass cage I'd gladly get revenge for what humans did to me” he threatened and I sighed. I shook my head at him knowing I couldn’t help stop him. 

“Press your silly little button. Go home to your stupid little manipulated hybrids, I won't have to do anything cause one day they’ll turn on you. Hybrids will do anything to survive, even bond themselves to silly little humans” he said and I could see that struck a nerve in her. 

“If you comply–” “No, get that through your head. Believe it or not I am behaving enough to keep myself alive–” he started shuffling around showing he was actually out of his constraints. “–you aren’t safe. No hybrid owner is the cause at the end of the day we are animals. I could smell a cat hybrid on you… and a domestic one he could kill you. In your sleep or at any time, they’ll overpower you and you’ll deserve it” he said and I could see her eyes hold fear in them.

“Hongjoong stop,” I said and he scoffed. “Is she gonna cry? So sensitive… im telling the truth your firm does hybrid rights, you know the stories of hybrids killing their owners. Claws ripped the skin at their throats, cannibalistic tendencies, poison, and so much more. One day you’ll be on the cover–” She took a shaky deep breath and left… ran away. “Hongjoong that was unnecessary,” I said and he laughed. He had fun doing that… “It is the truth. You can’t deny it” he said and it was a possibility. 

“She seemed nice.. And in all honesty I'd rather be here than in that circus” I said and he laughed. “It's all the same, dear friend. Besides… “ he trailed off without smiling. 

“If she reacts like that… she knows it's true. So she isn’t the good little hybrid owner you think she is”

y/n perspective

That’ll never happen… they– everything is okay. They’re happy… but– San doesn’t like humans and didn't like me. Was it because he had to adapt? Wooyoung… he… he likes me right? Yeosang… he… did he decide to be with me because I could help him?

Not everything is real… but, San did… does hate me?

“Miss?” I heard taking me out of my thoughts. He was a man in a hat and a trenchcoat. “Are you okay?” he asked and I tried to compose myself but my eyes kept on producing tears… 

“Hey, don't cry. Please get up, Miss. You should be so vulnerable in the street there are terrible people–” I started crying more after that. Am I a terrible person?

“No no no… please don’t cry,” he said. “Miss, someone as pretty as you should be crying,” he said but it didn't help. False and empty compliments. 

Am I actually the same type of person that I expose? 

“What's bothering you?” he asked and I tried calming myself. “Is owning hybrids a bad thing?” I asked and he sighed. “Do you care and love them?” he asked and I nodded. “I just don’t think… They care for me. Hybrids will do anything to adapt and please their owners… I know that so– this is why I didn't want a hybrid! I-I… don't know what to do” I was lost. 

“Miss, please calm down. Hybrids… do adapt but you obviously care for your hybrids and I promise you, you’re overthinking. Did they tell you that?” he asked and I shook my head. 

“If you care for them so much and they care for you, that's enough. Not everyone shows kindness to hybrids” he said and I tried to stop the tears. 

“You shouldn’t be crying like this miss,” he said and I nodded

He helped me up from my crouching position and patted my head. “Someone like you should be crying like this for silly things. If you care for them this much I bet they care for you just as much maybe even more” he comforted and I smiled softly. 

“Oh did you drop this?” he asked as I saw my wallet. “Oh… thank you. I’m sorry I must've taken you from what you were doing!” I said and he chuckled. 

“No, of course not Miss. I didn’t mind, helping you” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[python333]

your writing is literally the best in the cod fandom. we need more injured reader angst. it's too good

don't breathe — python333

— — — —

synopsis [reader] gets buried alive after refusing to give intel to enemy soldiers and *slips up and writes reader almost dying again* oops how did that happen haha

relationships platonic!price & gn!reader.

characters cap. john price.

word count 2.7k

warnings suffocation [reader], just generally really depressing thoughts, near death??, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note aww tysm :(( dont say its the best im gonna get a complex LMAO but i appreciate it!! and yes i agree injured reader angst ftw :3 i present to you: reader gets very injured and theres a lot of angst and its basically just you suffering for a good 3/4 of the fic while the last quarter has the actual comfort!

“Hello?” You try again, your voice cracking and your tone as desperate as it can get, “Please, God, say someone can hear me.” 

You’ve been trapped in a casket for about five minutes now—at least, you woke up five minutes ago. God knows how long you’ve been stuck in the stupid thing, but realistically, it’s probably been much longer than five minutes.

The last thing you remember from before you were buried is being in the interrogation room of some small terrorist group’s facility, one you and the others were led to believe was abandoned weeks ago. 

Unfortunately, whoever gave you the information must’ve either had incredibly outdated information or was setting you all up for failure, because the facility was very much not abandoned and was instead full of enemy soldiers.

You all had already gotten into the building before you knew that, because of course you all had to be in the same spot at the same time—practically sitting ducks for the enemy—and of course you all had to be clueless about the possibly hundreds of people in the facility until it was too late. 

As far as you know, everyone managed to escape. Everyone but you. They didn’t mean to leave you behind, of course they didn’t, they were more focused on just booking it out of the facility. However, because of that, you were now stuck—you assume—several feet underground in a casket that has a limited amount of oxygen that drops every time you take a breath. 

You let out the breath you’re currently holding and suck in another deep breath, holding it as you think. Your strategy of holding your breath until you no longer could mostly worked, but it wouldn’t for long, you knew that soon you’d suffocate in all of the carbon dioxide gathering in the enclosed casket.

You don’t know how long you’d been unconscious in the casket, breathing in oxygen carelessly in your slumber, which made the whole situation worse. You didn’t even know how much time you had left. 

You hate to waste your breath checking your comms, but the enemy soldiers had accidentally left your earpiece in your ear—the small device apparently going undetected under their radar—and you wanted to make the most of it. You move your arm from your side and press onto the PTT button on your earpiece, wincing a little at how cramped the casket was.

“Does anybody copy?” You ask again, staring up at the almost pitch black space above you, “I repeat, does anybody copy?” 

It’s a vain attempt at contacting your team, really. You don’t know if they’re thinking about you, if the signal is going through, if they even have their earpieces on—you know nothing, and that terrifies you because you really don’t want to die right now but there’s literally nothing else you can do besides helplessly talk into your earpiece, not knowing if anyone’s listening. 

Your lungs start to burn and you let out the breath you were holding, taking another deep breath and beginning to hold that one. The air feels… thick. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, and you know you shouldn’t panic but you can’t help the few worried thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind. 

What am I going to do when I run out of oxygen and the only thing left for me to breathe in are my own discarded breaths? What will I do when all there is to do is suffocate? Am I going to try, in one last desperate attempt, to break out of the casket, or am I going to just lay here and die? Will my team try to find me, or will they forget about me? Have they already forgotten about me? 

Before you can listen to any more of those depressing thoughts, a voice comes from your earpiece. 

“H—lo? [c/n]?” It’s hard to tell with the static and the cuts in between the words, but you think it’s Price talking. 

“Price?” You ask immediately, all thoughts of preserving your breath forgotten. “Holy shit, you can hear me?” 

“Je—s— whe—e—” He cuts out for a moment and your stomach drops when all you can hear is static for a moment. 

“You’re— You’re cutting out, Captain, what did you say?” 

“Wher— —re you?” It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying, your mind working much slower than it usually does, but once you do you shake your head negatively despite him not being there to see you. 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” You respond, taking a deep breath before adding on, “I think I’m underground, I just know I’m in a casket and it’s getting harder to breathe and—” 

“Okay, o—y,” You hear Price’s voice crackle, his voice becoming more distant and sounding almost muffled to you, “Sa— —ur bre—th, I’ll try to g—t some—e to track your— —tion.” 

With the constant cutting out of his words and the distortion of his tone, you can barely register or process what he’s saying, and that only panics you more but you refuse to let your emotions get the better of you even in the state of disorientation you’re in, so you keep holding your breath. 

A minute later, Price’s voice crackles through your earpiece again. 

“Okay, we’ve got your loc—tion,” Price’s voice sounds… oddly far away, “We can—” 

His voice slowly becomes muffled, and you release the breath you were holding without realizing it, slowly blinking up at the ceiling of the casket. A sort of haze falls over your mind and you can barely even hear Price anymore before you suddenly snap back to reality and hear his now much clearer voice loud in your ear. 

“[c/n]? [c/n], are you still there?” You recognize his tone now, and you’re just a little shocked at the sheer amount of worry in it. 

“Haven’t moved an inch,” You breathe out, before lying, “You cut out for a second for me, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, “I said we got your loc—tion and we’re hea—g out th— —w. It’s not t— far away from where —e alre—dy are, we’re ba—ely three clicks away.” 

“… Clicks?” You ask, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Yes, clicks,” Price replies, sounding concerned, before hesitantly asking, “… You know what those are, right?” 

“I don’t—” You struggle to find words for a moment before you speak again, your own voice starting to sound distant, “I don’t think so?”

“What do y—u mean you don’t thi— —o?” Price asks, his voice sounding freakishly close, “Are you okay?” 

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” You lie through your teeth, not wanting to worry Price further, “I just… how far away are you?” 

“Just ab—t two cli—ks now,” Price says, before pausing and clarifying, “Two kilometers.” 

Two kilometers… how far is that? “And that’s… is that far, or?” 

“No, it’s not too far. It’s just a mi—te away, we didn’t ge— —o far before Laswell got your loc—tion,” Price tells you, “We’ll be there soon, ok—y? We’ll get y— —ut of there.” 

“A minute—” You cough and feel tears pricking at your eyes from how hard it is to take another breath, “A minute?” 

“Yes, a minute— [c/n], are you okay?” Price asks again, before laughing nervously, “You know what a minute is, do— —ou?” 

“...” You struggle to answer the question, thinking long and hard for a few seconds before hesitantly answering, “… Yeah, I do, sorry. It’s sixty seconds.” 

“Why’d it take you so long to answer?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I—” You take a few shallow breaths, and feel a headache start to build up, “How far away are you guys?” 

“We’re alm—t there,” Price promises you, “The heli’s ab—t to l—nd, and we’ll dig you up, and—” 

Why is it so cold? Price’s voice cuts off and when he stops talking you realize that you’re shivering. You ball your fists up and can’t even feel your nails digging into your palms, your hands having gone numb from the cold, and realizing that makes you discover that your lips feel numb too. 

Your ears start to ring and you feel that uncomfortable pins and needles feeling in your hands, the sensation slowly traveling up your arms, making you both wanting to peel off your own skin and also grateful that you can at least feel something besides the cold.

In the midst of your thinking, you hear muffled thumping coming from above you—whoever buried you couldn’t have buried you anything below six feet. 

“—llo? [c/n]? Are you still there?” 

You bring your hand up, the movement slow and sluggish, and you try to search around the side of your face for your earpiece. You eventually find it and when you do you press against it until you feel the PTT button being pushed. 

“Still here,” You confirm breathlessly, coughing again as you take a few more shallow breaths, “I think I’m running out of— of… what’s the fuckin’ air that you can breath in, it starts with an o…” 

“… Oxygen?”

“Oxygen, yeah,” You slowly blink up at the ceiling of the casket, “There’s— I think— I don’t… I think… I think I’m gonna pass out, Captain.” 

“[c/n], don’t you fucking dare,” Price growls, “You stay awake, I swear to fucking god.” 

“I can’t—” You take a few more shallow breaths, before coughing, the tears escaping your eyes reaching the corners of your mouth. 

You can hear Price briefly talk with someone else, his voice the most serious you’ve ever heard it, before he talks directly to you again, “How much longer do you think you have before you run out of oxygen?” 

It takes you a moment to register the question, but when you do, you answer, “Uh… I don’t— I think… maybe a few more minutes? I can’t tell, it’s just hard to breathe, I can’t…” 

“Okay, okay,” Price softly says, gusts of wind blowing into his mic as he talks, “Give me a second, okay? We’re almost there, kid, we’ll— we’ll be there in just a minute, we just passed over you, I just need you to stay awake.” 

“In a minute,” You repeat to yourself, before taking a deep breath, hoping that you have enough oxygen to make it out of this casket because you really don’t want to die here, not when there’s help just a minute away. 

After what you assume is a minute or two, instead of thumping, you hear something cut into the dirt above you. The sound, however, is heavily muffled, so muffled to the point where you don’t know if you’re hallucinating or not.

Is that a symptom of CO2 poisoning? Hallucinations? You lay still in the casket and can’t help but release the breath you’d only just taken, the ringing in your ears starting up again and growing louder faster than they had before. 

Your entire body is numb, your chest is heavy, and you can feel a sort of fog fall over your mind. You can distantly hear Price yelling through your earpiece, but you can’t find it in yourself to respond, instead simply laying there, your blinking starting to slow down before it eventually stops, leaving your eyes closed. 

— 

For a moment, you think you died and went to heaven, which would be weird, considering all the things you’ve done in your life. Not saying you’d go to hell, just saying God would probably hesitate for a second before letting you in through the pearly gates. 

You blink awake, slowly but surely, and the first thing you realize is that you can feel things again. You tilt your head down to the bump under the white bed sheets laid on top of you, and squeeze your hand into a ball, watching the bump move and feeling your fingers dig into your oddly sore palms.

You let out a sigh of relief and pull your hand out from the sheets, bringing it up to your face and feeling the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and nose.

“Don’t mess with that,” You hear a voice say to your right. You turn your head and see a very tired Captain Price, dark eyebags hanging under his eyes and arms crossed, his hands having a white knuckle grip on either one of his elbows. 

“…” You don’t say anything, instead you simply stare at him until he sighs and gets up from his seat. You watch silently as he leans over your bed and bends down, before pausing, and then quickly snaking his hands under your back to pull you up just enough for him to properly hug you. 

You reach up with shaky hands and tentatively hug him back, not nearly as tightly—not that you don’t want to, but you physically can’t with how weak your arms are right now—but with just as much sincere affection. You can feel Price’s beard rubbing against your neck and hear his small sniffles as he embraces you tightly. 

Maybe it’s his sniffling, or the way you can finally feel warmth for the first time in what feels like forever, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s holding you with so much care and affection that it almost makes you burst at the seams, whatever it is, it causes you to tear up as well. 

Those tears quickly become sobs that bubble up in your throat and crawl their way out of it, forcing you to tuck your head into the crook of Price’s neck and muffle your sobs in it, muttering a small ‘sorry’ after each one. 

After each ‘sorry’, Price responds with, “It’s okay, let it out, sweetheart, you’re okay,” and those reassuring words only make you cry more because God, you didn’t even think he’d find you, yet here he is, letting you cry into his neck and is reassuring you after every apology that it’s okay. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” You mumble a litany of apologies into Price’s neck, your breath stuttering and hitching as you try to hold back your sobs. Price only shushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture, bringing his head up to kiss the top of your head. 

He tucks your head under his chin, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

And fuck, you know it’s just words, but it only makes you cry more. 

Your sobs eventually stop, leaving you hiccuping against Price’s neck, silently crying as he continues to rub your back. 

“I thought you died,” He whispers, his hand stuttering on your back, “I thought you died and I was going to dig up your dead body, when you didn’t answer me.”

You stay silent, letting him continue, “I thought you were dead when we dug you up and needed to feel your heartbeat for myself to confirm that you were still alive.” 

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been here ever since they put you in here. I haven’t slept, I’ve just stayed here, waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you that I—”

He chokes up for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’m sorry for not even thinking to drag you out of the facility with me when we all ran out. You were— you were right there, and I couldn’t just grab your arm and take you with me, I just had to leave you behind and I—” 

“You watched me while I was asleep?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows drawing together. 

Price pauses and pulls his chin off of your head, and pulls you away from his neck so he can properly give you the most incredulous look he can pull, before saying, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and apologizing for practically leaving you for dead, and that’s what you’re worried about?” 

“Well, I’m not worried, I’m just—” You shrug, not knowing how to explain it. Price sighs and chuckles quietly before tucking your head back under his chin. 

“You’re insufferable,” He mumbles, sniffling a bit. 

“… I forgive you, by the way,” You say after a moment of silence, “I didn’t really blame you in the first place.” 

“You had the right to.” 

“Sure I did.” 

“But you didn’t blame me.”

“Right.” “…” Price stays silent for a moment before pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head and saying quietly, “You should blame me.” 

“Maybe,” You mumble back, “But I won’t.” 

Later, maybe an hour later, if the others see you asleep in Price’s arms while he keeps your head tucked under his chin and rubs your back affectionately—no they don’t.

[didyoulookforme]

walkabout

your teacher asks you to tutor none other than matty healy. the very beginning of the bf matty au.

warning: cheesy fluff. teenagers being dramatic. grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

you cannot believe your luck.

of all the people mr. davis could assign you to tutor, it has to be matty healy. matty, who sits at the back of the classroom, half-asleep, drumming on the desk like he’s got an entire band in his head. the boy who’s always late, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. the one everyone can’t stop whispering about—quiet, untouchable, with that mess of hair and a permanent slouch that somehow makes him even more infuriatingly attractive to every single girl in school.

“so, you’ll do it, yeah?” mr. davis asks, holding you both back after class, his tone practically daring you to argue. his eyes flick between the two of you, clearly expecting some kind of protest.

no. absolutely not. you want to say, mr. davis, i will do literally anything else. mop the floors. clean the whiteboards. just, please, don’t make me do this.

but instead, you say, “of course,” because that’s what good students do, isn’t it?

mr. davis turns to matty, who, by the way, hasn’t even looked at you once. not even a glance. “and you? will you actually show up?”

“yeah. sure.” matty shrugs, voice low, casual, not impolite exactly but not making any promises either.

when you leave the classroom, your brain is spinning. how is this your life now? you spend the rest of the day picturing every way this could go wrong. matty showing up late—or not at all. matty being too quiet, distant, barely meeting your eyes. matty fidgeting in his seat, counting the minutes until he can leave, not paying attention whatsoever.

and after school, you unload all your frustration onto your friend, desperate for a shred of sympathy. but really, you should’ve known better.

“shut the fuck up.”

her voice slices through the air, sharp and disbelieving. she’s already sitting up, magazine abandoned, eyes wide like you’d just confessed you were moving to mars. “are you serious?”

“unfortunately,” you groan, covering yourself with your favourite pillow, your words coming out muffled. “apparently, someone thinks i’m a miracle worker who can make him care about school.”

“holy shit.” she leans forward, her grin stretching wider by the second. you can feel it without even looking. “you’re kidding. matty fucking healy?”

“yes.” you drag the pillow over your face wishing it could block out her inevitable reaction. “he doesn’t even try in class. now i’m supposed to magically make him care about algebra?”

“oh, who gives a flying fuck about algebra!” she waves a hand dismissively. “you’re gonna be sitting across from him. alone. for an hour. every week. that’s… basically the fucking dream.”

“oh my god,” you collapse further into the bed hoping the worn sheets beneath can provide some sort of comfort. “you’re delusional.”

“no, you’re delusional if you think this isn’t fate.” she’s practically vibrating with excitement now. “you have to find out everything about him.”

“he’s not some alien experiment,” you deadpan, lifting your head just enough to glare at her. “he’s just a guy who probably can’t add fractions.” still, the thought lingers. maybe you do want to know more—just a little. not because you care, obviously, but because it’s… curious. infuriatingly so.

“and yet, he’s also the hottest guy in school. don’t even try to deny it.”

you hesitate. she’s not wrong, exactly, but you can’t admit that—not out loud.

“there’s no—”

“don’t.” she cuts you off like a stern teacher catching a student mid-lie. “i know you. i remember. you had the biggest crush on him.”

you can’t help that your face burns instantly. “that was years ago.”

“doesn’t matter,” she sings songs, her grin practically glowing. “you were obsessed. you used to be like, ‘oh my god, matty’s curls looks so soft’ and ‘did you see how he dressed today?’ you were embarrassing.”

“i was twelve.” your voice cracks, too defensive, maybe too high-pitched. “it doesn’t count.”

“oh, it absolutely counts.” she leans closer, “plus, you’re really flustered right now.”

“i’m not!”

“you so are.” the smile plastered on her face is absolutely wicked now. “you still like him, don’t you?”

your stomach warps into knots. “jesus christ, no!” you practically shout, burying your face in your hands.

“sure,” she drags the word out. “but just so you know, louise totally made out with him at that party last month.”

your head snaps up so fast you’re pretty sure you strain something. “what?”

“uh-huh.” she looks far too pleased with herself. “she said he’s, like, weirdly good at it.”

“matty healy?” those two words don’t even make sense in your mouth and brain anymore.

“apparently, he’s super eager and… sweet. can you imagine? matty fucking healy being cute?”

you snort, because no. you can’t.

“right? same. but louise swears it’s true. she said he kept pulling her closer and saying, ‘is this okay?’ and ‘you’re really pretty.’”

your gut twists again, this awful, fluttery thing you refuse to acknowledge.

“you’re so full of shit.”

“she’s full of shit,” she corrects, laughing. “but honestly? if it’s true, it makes him even more confusing. how can someone be broody and sweet? pick a fucking lane.”

and there it is again—that thought you don’t want to have. matty healy. sweet. yup.

he barely talks to anyone, always hunched over a notebook or sketching weird little patterns on the edges of his papers. he’s quiet in this intense, self-contained way, like he doesn’t want anyone seeing too much. he doesn’t seem like the type to ask ‘is this alright?’ or let alone call someone pretty.

but what if he is? what if there’s something softer under all the sharp edges, something he keeps hidden on purpose? what if—

no. fucking. way. it’s ridiculous. you shove the thought down, locking it in the imaginary safe inside your brain. plus, he’s probably never even thought about you twice.

“he’s not like that,” you say finally, more to yourself than to her.

“oh, yeah?” she raises an eyebrow, daring you to argue. “guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

“jesus christ, stop it.” you grab the nearest cushion and launch it at her, but she just laughs, catching it before it hits her face.

“hey, i’m just saying,” her grin is downright evil now. “if he’s a good kisser, you’re practically obligated to confirm it.”

“get out,” you groan, flopping back down.

but even as you bury your face back in the pillow, you can’t stop thinking about it.

what if she wasn’t wrong?

—

by the time the first session rolls around, your nerves are a complete wreck. your hands are clammy, you feel a bit lightheaded, and you’re already regretting every decision that’s led you here. the library is practically dead—just the low buzz of those ancient fluorescent lights and the occasional shuffle of someone flipping a page somewhere in the distance. it smells strange, this weird mix of dusty books and that lemony floor cleaner that somehow always feels sticky no matter how fresh it is.

your swear your bag is a million pounds, stuffed to the brim with textbooks and notes you’re not even sure will matter. every step toward the back of the room seems slower than the last, as if your feet are trying to talk you out of this whole thing. but you press on, your heart hammering, every instinct screaming to spin around and hide in the safety of the nearest aisle.

he’s already there when you stumble around the corner, looking exactly how you expected. his hair’s a reckless mess, all careless pieces falling into his face because gravity’s obviously playing favourites. his shoulders droop so far it’s a small miracle he hasn’t slid off the chair entirely. his tie’s hanging on by sheer willpower, slack and crooked, and his shirt—don’t even get started on the shirt—looks like it’s been wadded up at the bottom of a gym bag for weeks. yet by some ungodly miracle, he still looks stupidly good. you’re sure the universe must’ve bent the rules just for him.

you stop dead in your tracks, your stomach doing this annoying thing once again, but this time more from dread than nerves. he’s not quite intimidating but there’s something about the sheer disinterest radiating off him that makes you hesitate. you’re clutching your bag so hard your knuckles are white, and for one brief, tempting second, bolting feels like a legitimate option. but then he glances up, his eyes widening just enough to make it clear he didn’t think you’d actually show. the expression isn’t inviting, but it’s enough to stop you from finding the exit. barely.

“oh. hi.” his voice is soft, so quiet it takes you a second to register that he’s spoken.

you swallow hard, willing your nerves to calm, and walk over, lowering yourself into the seat across from him. “hi.” your voice comes out steadier than you feel, the single word hovering awkwardly in the air.

you pull your bag onto the table and set it down with exaggerated care, as if even the slightest sound might disrupt the fragile calm between you. he doesn’t say anything else, just shrugs, his movements loose and lazy, still half-melting into the chair. 

“are you ready?” you manage, keeping your tone neutral, polite, professional even.

another shrug. “yeah. sure.”

his voice is low and rough. perhaps it hasn’t gotten much use today. it’s still not exactly rude, but it’s not encouraging either. you nod, your hands fumbling slightly as you flip open your notebook. you start simple, writing out a basic equation: 3x + 4 = 10.

“try this one,” you say, sliding the notebook toward him.

he picks up his pen, taps it rhythmically against the table for a few beats, then scribbles something down. x = 2.

“good,” you say before you can stop yourself, a flicker of surprise coloring your voice. you didn’t expect him to nail it on the first try, and the unexpected ease of it catches you off guard. “okay, what about this one?” you write out another problem: 2(x - 3) = 8.

he stares at the equation for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he traces the numbers with his eyes. his lips press together in concentration and for a brief second, you think he might actually be invested in figuring it out. then he bites his bottom lip, and it’s glossy and pink when he lets go, and you have to snap your attention back to your notebook, pretending you didn’t notice.

“uh… x is… 11?”

it’s wrong, obviously, and you should’ve seen it coming, but something about the way he says it—hesitant, unsure—makes you bite back a laugh. instead, you shake your head, the corners of your mouth tugging into an involuntary smile. “not quite. here, let me show you.”

you walk him through the steps, breaking it down as simply as you can, and to his credit, he listens. his eyes follow your pen as you write, nodding slowly while he tries to piece it all together. his hair falls into his face as he leans in, the faintest shadow of understanding flickering across his expression.

“oh. so x is 7.”

“exactly.”

he leans back with a soft sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. his fingers catch in the tangles, but it doesn’t seem to bother him—it’s more automatic than deliberate. “right. makes sense, i guess.”

you glance at his notebook, curiosity tugging at the edges of your focus. it’s open, but not to anything remotely useful. instead of math problems, the pages are crammed with chaotic scribbles—tiny guitars, abstract shapes, half-finished stick figures tangled with half-finished sentences. words scratched out and rewritten so many times they’re barely legible, spiraling across the margins in waves of ink that don’t seem to lead anywhere.

you try not to stare, but it’s impossible to ignore the sheer disarray of it. it feels oddly intimate, a window into his head he hasn’t really hidden but hasn’t offered up, either.

“this one’s hard,” he mutters, pulling you back. his voice is quiet again, but there’s a faint sense of frustration as he frowns at the problem you’ve written: 5x - 2 = 3x + 6.

“it’s not too bad,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone gentle. “just move all the x terms to one side and the numbers to the other.”

he scratches something down, his pen pausing mid-air as he hesitates, then scribbles a little more. finally, he looks up, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “x is… 4?”

you nod, feeling a flicker of warmth at the small victory. “exactly. see? you’re getting it.”

his lips tug into a smile—small, tentative, almost reluctant—and it’s not much, but it’s something. you look away, turning the page in your notebook, refusing to acknowledge the way your chest flutters for half a second.

the hour drags and flies at the same time. he tries, which surprises you more than anything else given that he has the attention span of a newborn goldfish. his foot taps a steady rhythm against the floor, and his fingers keep tugging at the frayed edge of his sleeve, but when you gently redirect him, he comes back.

the more time you spend with him, the more details start to sink in. the way his voice softens when he’s unsure of something. the way his nails are bitten down to jagged nubs. the way his lips part slightly when he’s thinking, his gaze flicking back and forth between the notebook and the table as if the answer might reveal itself if he stares long enough.

when the hour’s finally up, you take your time packing up, every movement drawn out and careful, watching out of the corner of your eye as he shoves papers into his bag. half of them are crumpled, a few look like they’ve barely survived, and none of them seem to end up where they’re supposed to.

“thanks for this,” he mutters, barely loud enough to register, his focus stuck on cramming his notebook into the disaster zone. “i mean… yeah. thanks.” 

“no worries.” you aim for light, casual, as if your pulse isn’t doing that weird, too-fast thud in your chest. “that’s why i’m here. see you next week?”

he nods, barely, and there’s this tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth—a smile that doesn’t quite make it but lingers just enough to be noticeable. “yeah. see you.”

he walks off, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his bag hanging awkwardly from one shoulder, papers still sticking out at random angles. you’re just about to leave when your eyes catch something on the table. a crumpled piece of paper, left behind in his whirlwind of packing.

you pause, glancing around like you’re about to commit some kind of crime, but the library’s empty. no one’s watching. your fingers hover for half a second before curiosity gets the better of you, and you pick it up, smoothing the wrinkles carefully.

the handwriting is a mess—words scratched out and rewritten, lines twisted into tangles of uncertainty: and this is how it starts

take your shoes off in the back of my car van

you share my shirt, looks so good

when it’s just hangin’ off your back (???)

you stare at it, the edges still crumpled, the ink smudged in places where his hand must have dragged across the page. it feels too personal, but you can’t stop looking. your fingers hover for a second before folding it up and slipping it into your bag, your thoughts buzzing with questions you’re not sure you should even want answers to.

[nothorses]

Do you think that trans men experience internalized misogyny?

From my initial understanding I believed that internalized misogyny was the misogynistic beliefs you had weaponized against yourself. Although apparently this includes the way you externalize it as well if you’re affected? Though, when people talk about trans men, they just call them misogynistic, as opposed to cis women who tend to be given the benefit of the doubt more and are told they have internalized misogyny.

Now I don’t doubt that trans men experience misogyny, and will continue to be affected by it even if they pass (though I’m sure how can shift). But it always feels as though some people believe trans men’s misogyny is more harmful than other demographics affected?

Tbh, I think "internalized misogyny" is more useful when it's defined in a more narrow and specific way than, like, any misogyny that is expressed by any woman.

This feels like a really solid "defining factor" for me, personally:

(From the Wikipedia page for "Inernalized Oppression")

I like the phrasing here of "against their own best interest" a lot. While it could be argued that any form of oppression is inherently against everyone's best interests, including the so-called "privileged" group-- and I would absolutely agree with that idea-- I think it's fairly easy to understand the difference between oppression that is perpetuated for (perceived) self-gain, vs. oppression that is perpetuated because one earnestly buys into the idea that they are inherently less valuable in some way.

I think this also avoids the tendency to define oppression as "internalized" or not based on the amount of harm caused, or to excuse certain people's bigotry because it also harms them personally.

Internalized misogyny really isn't inherently less harmful when women are the ones perpetuating it, and that framing isn't helping anyone! There are certain situations in which (cis) women have less power to perpetuate misogynistic violence or oppression than (cis) men do, absolutely. But that is a question of power to act in the first place, not the actual impact of those actions.

If anything, I would argue that I personally have suffered far more, and more severe, misogynistic violence at the hands of cis women than I have ever suffered from cis men. It genuinely doesn't matter to me whether those women were acting out of "internalized misogyny" or not.

It can be really helpful to understand the cause of someone's misogyny; why someone is motivated to perpetuate those ideas is going to inform the best approach to changing their beliefs and behavior. But that's a different question than "how harmful is this", or "should we excuse this person's bigotry".

So yes, transmascs can experience internalized misogyny. So much misogyny runs counter to our best interests. The same goes for transfems, and trans folks who don't fit into either category. I'd argue that anyone can experience internalized misogyny; including cis men, because, again, oppression ultimately runs counter to everyone's best interests.

More importantly, though, I think we need to be asking ourselves why we want to know whether someone's misogyny is "internalized" or not. What are we going to do with that information? Is it an excuse for the person perpetuating it, or do we need to answer that question in order to strategize, and push for growth and change?

[jasperhaleobsessed]

Hey, I feel kinda weird asking for another fic since I already asked, but can you please do Jasper Hale x reader where reader is the “backup friend.” Where basically her friends only hang out with her, talk to her, etc when there is no one else to talk to. Reader’s mom (who she’s really close to) starts getting really busy with the reader’s younger siblings and so reader gets less attention/gets ignored. The only time reader gets attention from anyone is either when they need her or no one else is available. Reader is hanging out with the Cullens’ and gets a call from her mom telling her to watch her younger sibling even though reader is out with friends and reader’s other younger sibling is home and free to watch the toddler. She just accepts it, but Jasper gets kinda upset that she just accepted it since he could feel her disappointment and she bursts out crying. Jasper lets her know that she doesn’t deserve to be treated that way and maybe cuddles and forehead kisses ensue?

Your only human

Jasper Hale x Female reader

Summary: The reader is having a hard time and Jasper comforts her.

Notes: Hope you like it and I know this wasn't exactly what you may have wanted but nevertheless still hope you enjoy it! :) Also sorry for taking such a long time!

Warnings: Some angst but a happy ending as usual!

Wordcount: 700

(Edit: I forgot to add a gif oops 😬)

Your POV

Laughter filled the room as always Emmett made a terrible joke. You secretly enjoyed his jokes. Even Roselie cracked a smile which was a shock. Jasper had his arm around your shoulder and he hugged you close. Warmth filled your cheeks and your chest tightened. You smiled happily especially after Esme came out of the kitchen and presented you with a freshly baked warm chocolate cookie. You smiled gratefully. 

Then you lost, “Oh come on!” You murmured and jokingly gave Carlisle a stink eye. 

“Sorry.” he smiled apologetically. 

“Oh it’s alright.” You smiled warmly. 

“Yes!” Emmett exclaimed. You turned your head in his direction and looked at him confused. 

“Hand it over Alice!” He held out his hand. Alice gave him the puppy dog face but handed the money out anyway.

 “You bet on me?” 

“Yup!” Emmett said enthusiastically.

“How did you win against Alice doesn’t she see the future and all?” Emmett shrugged his shoulders and Alice answered with, “I guess it was a last minute decision.” Roselie rolled her eyes at Emmetts antics. 

“Okay.” You said slowly. You turned back to the game and watched as the rest of the Cullen’s played against each other. 

“Can you believe them?” You laughed. 

“Surprisingly I can.” Jasper laughed as he interlocked his hand into yours. 

Edward won and Alice was close to winning too. It had been a fun night and you enjoyed every bit of it. You enjoyed being wrapped up in Jasper’s arms and you enjoyed laughing and giggling with the Cullen family that was until your mom called. 

Your phone buzzed, you pulled it out of your back pocket and you read the following text: Hi honey I need you to watch your little sibling tonight! 

Your brows furrowed and you responded with: 

You

But I can’t I’m at the Cullen’s right now 

Your mom

Well I’m sorry but your gonna have to 

You 

Why can’t my other capable older sibling do it??

Your mom 

Because they are busy. 

You 

But I’m busy too!

Your mom

You're the eldest, it's part of your job!

…

You sighed and rubbed your temples as you powered off your phone. You pushed it back into your pocket. 

“What's wrong?”

You turned to look at him and for a moment you had no idea what to do or what to tell him. 

“Uh, my mom needs me to babysit my little sibling.” You said as you went to grab your backpack and get your stuff ready to go. 

“Don’t you have another sibling who's old enough to take care of your younger one?” Jasper asked. 

“Yeah but apparently they can't and I’m the only one who can.” Jasper put his hand on your shoulder and rubbed it soothingly.

“You're working yourself too much, I can feel it.” He caressed your face. 

“I know but no one else can and I have to. I don’t want to but she's relying on me and I can’t go and say no even if I feel exhausted and overworked because she's always working and has no time for her kids anymore. I can't just say no because she needs help and has no time because she’s trying to support her. But as much as I love my siblings I can’t do this. I'm not good at juggling all of this.” You felt your breath hitch and tears sting your eyes. You collapsed in his arms. He listened calmly to your rant.

And rubbed your hair soothingly. “Shhh it’s okay darlin’.” Your body trembled as he sent calming waves to you.

You couldn’t help but hug him tighter. “I’m sorry.” You murmured. 

He pulled you away and cupped your face, “You have no reason to be sorry. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed and exhausted, that's normal. Your only human darlin’.” You gave him a small smile and your tears continued to pour down your face as he whipped them away. 

He calmed you again and you took a deep breath just as he did. “Feel better?” You smiled and hugged him tightly. 

“Would you like me to come with you and help you so you don’t feel as overwhelmed?” 

“Yes!” You felt relieved. 

You turned to the rest of the Cullens and said, “Sorry for crying on ya.” Esme looked at you sympathetically, "Don’t worry dear you're completely fine.” She got up from the sofa and hugged you. Alice jumped up from her seat and you and Esme turned to her. 

“Don’t ever apologize! It’s okay!” She smiled warmly. You always thought her smiles were contagious. She smiled back at her warmly. The other Cullen’s agreed. Jasper took your hand as he led you to your house and you both smiled as you headed there. 

The End. 

[changenameno]

Wild Ride PART 1

(Complete, link to the second part, ⬇️ down below)

Summary:
Having to share a car with your friends Sy and August, you and Walter make do. They won’t catch on, to what you’re doing in the backseat, right?

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Fem. Reader (Sy and August)

Warnings: 18+, cursing, unsafe driving, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, finger-fucking, dirty talk, MDNI (most of the Smut in the second part)

Word count: 1.2 K

A/N: Apparently I’m not able to fit a smutty fic in one chapter, so here we go with two parts, again. But at least it’s complete. Though it’s not proofread, any mistakes are my own. Please be kind, comments/reblogs are much appreciated…Thank you, hope you enjoy!❤️✨



! Neither Nomis, nor Walter Marshall, Syverson or August Walker are my creation!

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PART 1


You weren’t really excited about this wedding. Not that you weren’t happy for the couple. You were.


But you hadn’t had a free weekend alone with Walter in forever, and just missed being close to him. Also very importantly: not having had sex with him, in so, so long either. Ergo being a bit sulky at the fact that you didn’t even get alone-time in the car.

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Walter had surprised you yesterday with the news: “ So you know how August has bought that new car?”

Not liking where this was going, you slowly turned to your boyfriend, who was sitting next to you on the couch, “Yes, why?”

“Well we were talking earlier. And came to the conclusion that it would make more sense to car share, as we, him and Sy have to go to the wedding…,” drawing out the end as he caught on to your irritated facial expression. “Erm, that’s alright, is it not?” he added unsure.

You sighed deeply, technically speaking it was a perfect solution. But you really wanted to have some fun with Walter. Knowing it’d take some time getting there, you’d hoped for at least a quicky, in some abandoned parking lot or something. Seeing as you couldn’t do anything now, because Faye had a friend over for the weekend.

“Well yeah, of course that’s alright,” straining to keep your disappointment out of your voice and failing miserably. Walter knew you to well, raising his brow sceptically,” Mhhm yeah riiight, and I’m Cinderella waiting for her first kiss.”

Making your sour face, light up instantly at the mental imagery that statement had created. He smiled softly at you in return, patiently waiting for your explanation. Giggling you admitted,” Okay fine, I’d kinda hoped you and I could have a little time to ourselves….you know?”

It was his turn to sigh, cursing,” Damn. If I’d known you’d be up for that, I wouldn’t have agreed to car share.”

“Oooh, but Mister Marshall, by now you should know with you, I’m always …up…for…that,” you winked teasingly at him.

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August had picked up Sy first, because his house lay on the way to yours. When he drove up the driveway, your face fell, as you saw the car. More specifically the completely loaded up car. He rolled down the window greeting you both. ”Morning you two, jump right in.” Sy grinned at you from the passenger seat, waving briefly.

Still gaping at the car, you shook your head, “You’ve got to be kidding, what is that?!” Walter didn’t look too keen either, as August supplied you with; “Ah yeah a friend of mine moved and I hadn’t had time to remove all the boxes yet.”

Irritated, Walter remarked, “All the boxes? August, the whole damn car is packed to the roof! You do realise that there’s only one seat not occupied?”

August smiled slyly then nodded; “Well yeah, but I thought you two love birds could share the seat.” And as if that ended the argument, he just rolled his window up again.

Annoyed you glared at your boyfriend; “I’m not getting into that car! We have to drive at least four hours!” Walter signed, shrugging his shoulders, “I know, but I believe we don’t have much of a choice here.”

Nearly growling you answered,” Oh, I’m so gonna kill him.” The detective simply opened the car door, getting in behind the driver’s seat, waiting for you. Seething you made your way over and into the car. Settling down between Walters thick thighs, as best as you could. If there was a moment to curse your boyfriend’s muscled physique, it was definitely now.

Quite literally feeling completely boxed in, you somehow managed to put a seatbelt on. August gleaming blue eyes landed on yours as he pulled out of the driveway. Looking you up and down, taking in your dark blue dress with small white flowers on it. “You look quite stunning, love.”

You on the other hand, were having none of that, “Oooh, don’t push it.”

Sy ever the gentle intermediary, “I have to agree though, you look stunnin’, sugar.”

You huffed in response, but had to admit that all three men looked dashing themselves in their dark blue tuxedos.

Walter snaked an arm around your waist and rested his other hand on his thigh. Not wanting to argue any further you remained silent, resigning yourself to your fate, being squeezed in for the next four hours.

By now you had sat in idle silence for at least half an hour, while the guys had talked about this and that.

Until Sy turned back, beaming at you,” And what’s that grumpy face all ‘bout? Can’t only be the seating.” Damn, you thought no one would notice, that you’d been grumpy since before they’d picked you up. But of course, Sy being your best friend for god knows how long, would notice.

Trying to lighten up, your lips curled into a soft smile, nonetheless lying through your teeth as you answered,” Nothing really. Just tired I guess.” He didn’t look convinced, but knew better than to push, simply turning back to the front.

Suddenly the arm around your midsection, pulled you even closer. Walter leaned down, lips touching your ear, whispering against it,” You know, you can be quite the brat, when you don’t get what you want.” Lightly shivering due to the lewdness of his comment. Heat spread through your body, breathing back just as softly,” Mmmh, well and whose fault is that?”

The resounding growl he let out, travelled all the way down to your panty-covered cunt, which immediately began quivering with want.

Felling his hot breath when he answered, “Looks like someone needs reminding, of who is in charge.” The hand that had been on his own thigh, slowly slid over to yours, inching up from your knee and under the hem of your dress. Already turned on but at the same time alarmed, you took hold of his hand, before it could travel up any further.

“Wait, wait, what if they see,” you gestured towards the front of the car, where Sy and August still chatted. At that Walter pulled back slightly, straitening up. Disappointment settled deep in your stomach. No, why would he stop?

But Walter had no intention of stopping, he just came up with a plan to distracted his two friends best he could. Mentioning the latest game. He knew that would have them quarrel for hours on end at times. And as always they started arguing right away.

Smiling up at your boyfriend you purred; “That worked like a charm.”

“Yeah. And now, where were we?”, his pupils blown wide, as he knew exactly what would follow.

 

 

PART 2

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Taglist:

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me! ❤️✨

[frangipanilove]

Thoughts on Isabelle as a Beth proxy

(Beware of potentially unpleasant romance-related spoilers below)

@bethgreeneprevails I hope you have recovered from your traumatic morning the other day (hopefully this won't traumatize you further). As promised, here are a few of my thoughts on why I’m not terribly distressed by the prospect of potential hints of romance between Daryl and Isabelle. I typed this out the other week, then of course yesterday THOSE spoilers came out (under the cut, to save lives), then all hell broke loose, and here we are.

Yes, they are unpleasent spoilers for sure! I’ll address them briefly in here, but they actually don’t really significantly change how I already feel.

And honestly there’s not really anything new and groundbreaking in here in terms of analysis, just a few thoughts I’ve been having about Isabelle as a Beth proxy.

So to get it out of the way, the recent spoilers report that apparently Daryl and Isabelle will share a kiss. I know, I know. I wasn’t thrilled to hear that either. But I’m still not terribly concerned about it, and I’ll try to explain why.

First of all, I don’t know if these are credible spoilers or not. It’s my understanding that they originated from DearTV, but I haven’t been able to confirm that, so keep that in mind.

But at a certain point last night they seemed to be all over the internet:

And while I reserve the right to be moderately grumpy about it, I don’t think we’re in for a porno here. I expect it to be fairly harmless and innocent. I think we’ll survive. Unlike poor Isabelle.

I originally wanted to write this post because I feel strongly that Isabelle has so much Beth-proxyness (totally a word) about her, and anything that happens between Isabelle and Daryl, on some level says something about his relationship to Beth. While it was subtle during season 1, it was definitely noticeable, and I believe it’s going to become a lot more obvious during season 2.

First a few words on why I originally came to see Isabelle as a Beth proxy. It actually started long before season 1 aired, and it has to do with their names:

As you can see, the French “Isabelle” (and Spanish “Isabel”), originally derived from the medieval French /Spanish version of the name Elizabeth. And “Beth” is an established short-form of the name Elizabeth. So “Isabelle” is etymologically directly linked to the name Elizabeth, and “Beth” is an established short-form of the name Elizabeth.

I was curious about this connection even before the show had aired, because it seemed like such an unlikely coincidence. The two names basically share the same origin! That’s earns a major side-eye from me, why would TPTB do that if not for establishing a subtle connection between the two characters? Keep in mind that this was an impression that was formed before the show had aired, solely based on the name etymology. I wondered if Isabelle was there to function as a Beth proxy, and I wondered how this would carry over to the show.

Then episode 1 was released, and we saw this:

Yup, Isabelle has a wrist scar, just like Beth does. She’s definitely a Beth proxy. Because the wrist scar, that’s undeniably a Beth callback. That’s something that was a topic in 4x12 Still when Daryl and Beth had the fight at the moonshine shack, it was something Dawn used against her at Grady etc. The wrist scar has become something that’s tied to Beth, not anyone else.

And it’s significant that this is one of the very first things we learn about Isabelle. It’s quite literally the first glimpse we get into her character that goes beyond the superficial stuff such as her appearance, that she’s a nun etc.

It’s a defining moment for Isabelle, we learn that there’s more to her than just being a pious nun, and it’s something that ties her character directly to Beth.

And as the season went by, there were other things, dialogue callbacks etc. I don’t even remember. But that wrist scar was the main reason I could never unsee the parallels to Beth.

And towards the end of the season we could definitely see some sort of connection forming between Isabelle and Daryl, a connection that wasn’t necessarily strictly about platonic friendship. I expect us to see more of that in season 2, and no, it’s not going to be delightful to witness. But we’ll survive.

I'm not going to lie, we’ve had reports suggesting that Isabelle will die, and it’s likely that my anxiety would be higher if we didn’t already know that.

But if Daryl starts falling for her, he’s falling for a Beth proxy, because that’s how she was introduced to the show. Obviously that’s not all she is, she’s a character in her own right, but she definitely carries traits that are supposed to remind us of Beth.

Her presence makes room for Daryl’s memories about Beth. Again, it was subtle and understated in season 1, but I expect it to increase in season 2. For instance, I do believe we’ll see a conversation between them about Beth prior to the hallucination scene in the Euro tunnel where Daryl eventually instructs her to tell Merle, Beth and Glenn he tried, which I discussed briefly here and here.

Another thing; I might be in the minority here but I interpret Isabelle’s lying and manipulation differently than many others. I’m fully expecting pushback on this but hear me out:

Isabelle is Laurent’s de facto mother figure. She’s his only remaining family, and she’s protecting him as though he’s her own child. There’s a parallel to Beth here, in that she’s also been a parent figure (to Judith and others), she’s fiercely protective of children and has been surrounded by parent/child symbolism.

And while in isolation, Isabelle’s behavior towards Daryl is indeed manipulative, I interpret it as a mother’s (or mother’s figure’s) desperate attempts to ensure her child’s safety. I don’t think her behavior comes from a place of malicious intent, I see it as a testament of the lengths to which a mother will go to protect her child. She perceives Daryl as Laurent’s best chance of survival, and she goes all in, unapologetically. I can’t hold that against her, I would probably also lie and manipulate to protect my child. I think that’s human nature.

And we see how Daryl, while reluctant at first, slowly start to develop a bond with Laurent. That scene of them on the riverbank when Laurent let the boat go is stellar. First we see Daryl give into his anger, lashing out at Laurent, likely following the pattern he learned from his own father growing up.

But then we watch him reach a moment of clarity, where he sees himself from the outside, replicating the dysfunctional parenting style of his father. He manages to regulate his emotions and get control over himself. He then sincerely apologizes to Laurent and chooses a different path, a different parenting style, one of love, patience and tolerance. That’s an incredible moment of character development for Daryl, and it shows that whatever manipulation he’s been subjected to by Isabelle has in fact made him a better person. Maybe Isabelle knows what he needs better that he knows himself. Much like Beth did.

We see a similar moment of real, healthy parenting in the trailer, where Daryl talks to Laurent about the three of them going to the US.

Obviously, I haven’t watched this scene yet, so for all I know my analysis could be completely wrong. That’s a problem for future me. For now, I’m loving this shot. I’ve never seen Daryl this paternal, and quite frankly it’s HOT! This, to me, looks like solid, healthy parenting, by someone who’s come a long way, emotionally speaking. He excels when he gets to be a parent.

And he has Isabelle’s manipulation to thank for that. Her “manipulation” unlocked something good in him. I actually don’t see it as manipulation. She’s surviving and making sure Laurent survives too.

I think you could actually argue that Beth would have responded to the situation in a similar way, which is another reason I’m side-eying Isabelle’s character. I 100% believe Beth would lie and manipulate in order to protect her child, or any child. We’ve already seen her do that to protect her loved ones, in 5x4 Slabtown, before her escape attempt with Noah.

We saw her, ice cold and lying through her teeth, telling Dawn that she saw Gorman go into her office. Her steady gaze and cool calm demeanor as she lied to Dawn’s face, seconds after having fed Gorman to walker-Joan, just so that she and Noah could escape from Grady, that’s imo the same impulse Isabelle is following to protect Laurent. Do whatever it takes to protect your loved ones. Lie, manipulate, steal…

And she later does the same in order to save Carol’s life, when it’s decided that Carol isn’t worth the resources it would take to save her.

I don’t see it as manipulative as much as I see it as being fiercely protective and ruthless on behalf of your loved ones and your children. I don’t see it as an inherently “bad” quality, I see it as “doing whatever it takes” to protect your family. Both Beth and Isabelle have that same ruthlessness when it comes to protecting their loved ones. And I’m excited about that because it’s yet another parallel between them.

And Isabelle, just like Beth, sacrificed herself. She returned to her abusive ex boyfriend because she thought that would be Laurent’s best chance of getting to safety at the Nest. Beth sacrificed herself for Noah, twice. And stopped at nothing to save Carol’s life.

So yeah, I think all of this is just a long way of saying that I believe we’ll see even more similarities and parallels between Beth and Isabelle in season 2. We probably will see Daryl develop some sort of feelings for Isabelle. Yes, it will be difficult to watch, but I think it’s a part of the process Daryl needs to evolve. I think there’s a reward for us at the end of it. And ultimately it might even be good for Daryl to have a little taste of those feelings. He might open up about Beth, I fully believe we’ll see them talk about Beth, and I do believe it will be thoroughly communicated how important Beth was to him, either explicitly through dialogue, or alternatively more subtly, through symbolism. And Isabelle will most likely die, while Beth will hopefully “resurrect”.

I believe the budding romance (or whatever) will make space for so much Beth symbolism, if we can just tolerate watching it for long enough to get a good grasp on the symbolism surrounding it. I do believe it will mostly be fairly innocent, at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself for now. And Beth will always be lurking in the symbolic shadows. In the narrative it will be about Daryl and Isabelle, but beneath the surface it will also address Daryl’s feelings towards Beth.

I think my main message with all of the above is that I expect to see the Beth-proxyness of Isabelle turned up a notch this season, and that it will function as a primer for bringing Beth back. I think we’ll see it both in terms of more subtle, between-the-lines symbolism, but also increasingly by having her explicitly talked about, for example in conversations between Daryl and Isabelle, such as we saw from the leaked script pages the other week.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Im playing with an incorrect quote generator and I'm sharing them here. They are cracking me tf up.

Belphie: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to MC and not do the thing, Belphie: Well there’s a clear right answer here. Belphie: *proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke*

Satan: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY- MC: Awwww, you’re so adorable! Give me a hug~ Satan: Wh-What? nO, yOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH- Lucifer, recording: This is so cute.

Beel: sSSSHIT- I BURNT MY LIP- Belphie: …Why the fuck would you even drink coffee with a METAL STRAW in the FIRST PLACE?? Beel: BECAUSE WE WERE OUT OF THE PLASTIC ONES!

Barbatos: Look, Satan, if you can fit your head down the gun’s barrel, you can assume it doesn’t have a non-lethal setting.

MC: Yes, I'm adopting Satan and you cowards can't tell me no!

Lucifer: *running towards Beel with open arms* Beel: *moves out of the way* Lucifer: Hey, why'd you move?! Beel: I thought you were going to attack me. Lucifer: I was going to hug you! Beel: Why would you hug me? Lucifer: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

Levi: The best way to gain someone's undying loyalty is by saving them from a perilous situation. Barbatos: So you're just gonna wait until MC is in danger and save them? Levi: Of course not, I'm going to create a situation that puts them in danger and then save them. Barbatos: … Barbatos: You're insane.

MC: We’re going to defeat you with the power of friendship. Belphie: We’re not friends. MC, holding an axe: We’re going to defeat you with the power of incredible violence.

Lucifer: You’re starting to look like me more and more every day— Satan: *Bursts into tears* Lucifer: Why are you crying? Satan: You’re ugly! I don’t want to look like you! *sobs*

*Satan and Mammon are texting* Satan: Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone. Mammon: What did they change my name to? Satan: Chosen One. Mammon: Don’t change it back. Satan: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Mammon: I’m the chosen one.

Mammon: "What are you into?" is such a broad question, like do I reply with a TV series or choking?

Belphie: Sorry I can’t be emotionally vulnerable with you it’d ruin the mystery.

Asmo: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

Mammon: What happened to your nose? Satan: I used it to break some guy's fist.

Mammon: Would it be discrimination to only hire employees at my doughnut shop who have the same name? MC: Legally, I don't believe that breaches any discrimination laws. Morally though… I don't know. Mammon: I believe god is on my side when it comes to Duncans' Doughnuts.

Mammon: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Asmo: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

Mammon: look Levi, I'm not slut shaming you but… Mammon: Actually yeah, I'm TOTALLY slut shaming you.

Lucifer: I am the left brain, I am the left brain. "I work really hard until my inevitable death" brain. You've got a job to do, you better do it right and the right way is with the left brain's might. Mammon: I LIKE OREOS AND PUSSY-

Satan: My expectations were low but holy fuck.

MC: *Texts a selfie to the group chat* Hey besties!! Mammon: *Texts a selfie clearly parodying MC's* hey besties !!1! MC: I literally hate you so much.

Satan: What's this? MC, hugging Satan: Affection! Satan: Disgusting. Satan: …Do it again.

Lucifer: I am going to need you to swear- Diavolo: Fuck. Lucifer: Lucifer: …swear as in promise.

Mammon: Pardon me, but it sounds like you’re questioning my authority! Lucifer: Not at all, Mammon. Merely your primitive methods.

MC: *cocks gun* Go to Bed. This is no longer a request, This is now a Threat.

Levi: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this! Beel: Apparently, we're not.

Mammon: *Reading a letter* Satan: Well, what does it say? Mammon: It’s a confession letter. It turns out MC killed my pet rock.

Diavolo: Not to be nsfw but I want someone to hold me while I sleep.

MC: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Diavolo and Lucifer's convo? Asmo: Me. I'm in the laundry basket. Belphie: I'm in the washing machine. Barbatos: I'm in the closet. Asmo: We accept you Barbatos. <3 Barbatos: No I'm literally in the closet. Asmo: Love is love. <3

Belphie (brainstorming ideas for pranking Lucifer): How much would a serial killer mask possibly cost? MC: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Belphie: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? MC: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Belphie.

Diavolo: I don't know, it's not my cup of tea. Satan: Well then whose is it? Diavolo, staring at a cup of tea: I don't know!

MC: What’s something you guys are better than Lucifer at? Mammon: Mario Kart. Satan: Yeah, video games. Levi: Emotional vulnerability.

Mammon: Can we talk about that mass email you sent? MC: Why? It was important. Mammon: All it says is, "I'm back on my shit". Diavolo, shrugging: The people need to know.

Mammon: Can you pass the salt? Asmo: Can you pass away? Mammon: Too much salt.

*talking on the phone* Mammon: Remember how I said that MC and I were gonna have a calm night out for once? Lucifer: Yeah… Mammon: Well, we’re in jail. Lucifer: *hangs up*

MC: Go to hell! Lucifer: Where do you think I come from?

MC: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Satan: We need a distraction. Lucifer: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises? Diavolo, whispering: My time has come.

Mammon: I don’t know, this plan seems complicated. Lucifer: You once said that about an orange. Mammon: They don’t make sense. Apples, you eat their clothes but oranges you don’t.

Diavolo: Mammon and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. Asmo: What did you do? Diavolo: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- Mammon: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

[astrhae]

some important and underrated lines in the books, related to wylan van eck (aka gold that i found again while writing the character study fic):

Wylan took a deep breath as if sucking in courage and sputtered, “You won’t throw me overboard. You need me.”

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 13. when i say wylan is unhinged, i mean he had the audacity to lie to kaz brekker (who doesn't know yet that wylan isn't the best hostage) AND use that lie to go against kaz AND actually win. jesper only notices wylan lying to kaz in the second book, but despite being wide-eyed as matthias describes, wylan's been lying to kaz from the very beginning. throughout the books, wylan gets better and better at using people's assumptions of him as a weapon/tool, and he admits as much when jesper says: "i'm going to stop underestimating you", and wylan replies: "then you're going to be a lot harder to surprise."

While Kaz explained and Jesper used the laundry shears to portion out pieces of rope, Wylan helped Inej and Nina prepare. To pass as members of the Menagerie, they would need tattoos.

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 28. wylan is CANONICALLY a tattoo artist. demolitionist. poisons expert. musician. and tattoo artist. do with that what you will

“I don’t like the idea of killing people, either. I don’t even like chemistry.”

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 32. HE LIKES NUMBERS. and music. and jesper. there's just something about wylan being forced into chemistry when he doesn't truly enjoy it, vs. everything his father's forced him to do when he doesn't truly enjoy it. he says this right after the we could wake him up line, and him mentioning that he doesn't even like what he's been doing all along underscores how much wylan's ruthlessness comes from a place where he doesn't want to be cruel. he's just. had to do a lot of things to survive. and he does want to survive

Gunfire sounded from above. Apparently, Wylan had found the controls. ... Wylan had scratches from the glass all over his cheeks and neck. He was beaming.

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 39. wylan is unhinged. truly. and i love him, really. he was really the first to figure out how to fire the tank. him, not jesper, which was a choice i very much approve of

He should be making a plan, maybe even plotting revenge, trying to gather his wits and his resources. And what was he doing? Wishing he could ring for tea... Whatever it took to survive the Barrel, Wylan knew he didn’t have it.

--- Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 23. first, wylan wishing he could ring for tea, vs. the parallel in the show where he offers the crows tea. second, wylan being painfully honest with himself. but third, he ends the chapter being able to navigate the streets of the barrel himself without knowing how to read the signs, which really reflects his amazingly good memory and skill for thinking along three axes, like the lockpick kaz compared him to

“Yes,” Wylan said, that one word imbued with a whole world of hope. “But I don’t have anything to bargain with.”

--- Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 28. wylan's spent so long bargaining for his life that by the time he meets genya, he doesn't believe he has anything left to bargain with. but wylan still tries, AND when he succeeds, he still has the audacity to get genya to make him look better

in conclusion, wylan might be shy but that doesn't mean he isn't scheming something, but that doesn't mean he wants to scheme, but that doesn't mean he isn't good at scheming. he's excellent at it, he's just an unhinged ball of contradictions, and wylan would, could, and should beat kaz in a chess match

[ikeromantic]

Hot Chocolate

Ikemen Advent prompt featuring Victor! Approx. 700 words

“Bad dreams again,” Victor asked you as you slipped into the kitchen. 

It was very late, or very early, and the night outside was the dark of deep winter. The members of Crown were either out on business or ensconced in their rooms. Only you were out and wandering. You, and apparently Victor.

You nodded tiredly and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. 

“Care to tell me about your dream?” He sat down across from you, his smile kind. 

“I was trying to deliver a love letter, but I couldn’t get up the hill to the house. And then the wind caught the note and I was chasing it. No matter how fast I ran, it was always out of reach.” You sighed. “Stupid, right? But it left me feeling exhausted and sleepless.”

Victor laughed softly. “Not stupid at all. It sounds as if something is bothering you. But perhaps, I have a cure!”

You blinked at him. “I don’t think a magic trick is going to put me back to bed.”

“Well. Perhaps not. But I do have another idea.” He stood and moved to the countertop, pulling out a saucepan and some other items.

“What are you making?”

“Mmm, you’ll have to wait and see.” His low voice was sensual, playful, and it sent a little shiver down your spine. “Why don’t you tell me about your day while I cook?”

You nodded, and began to tell him about your work for Crown. Writing down the deeds of the members, case histories really, and studies of their curses. It was a lot of work, but you enjoyed it. Though you’d come to Crown under duress, it now felt like family. A wild, strange one to be sure, but yours. 

“There wasn’t anything to upset me, really. I don’t know why I’m still dreaming about mail delivery,” you finished. Then settled your head on your arms atop the table. How was it possible to be so tired and yet so sleepless??

Victor set something on the table in front of you. It smelled chocolatey and delicious. You immediately sat up. 

“Some hot cocoa. A decadent late night snack.” He moved his chair beside yours. “Take a sip. I made certain the temperature is perfect.”

You carefully lifted the mug to your lips and the rich, sweet flavor of milk and cocoa coated your tongue. It’s warm and creamy and there is a slight bitterness to the chocolate that makes the sweet stand out. “It’s perfect,” you murmured appreciatively. 

Victor was watching you with an inscrutable expression. 

“Aren’t you going to drink yours?” You gestured to the other mug. 

“Hm? Yes, yes of course. I was just enjoying you, enjoying something I made.” Victor’s lips curl in a small, pleased smile. 

The hot cocoa warmed you up, but not half so much as that smile. That goddamned sensual smile, so full of luscious promise that it set your heart racing every time you saw it. And now, here it was, squeezing your heart at 2am. “Thanks. It’s really good.”

You took another sip and then set the mug down, hoping Victor might believe the heat in your cheeks was from the cocoa. 

He was still watching you, and as you set the cocoa down, one of his brows twitched. He leaned forward, and you thought for a moment he might kiss you. Your pulse went from fast to racehorse gallop as he closed in. And then there was a slight, firm pressure at the corner of your mouth. A little line of heat, thin as the tip of a finger.

“Wh-what? Did you?” You tried for words, but your brain was like a lamp flame in a storm, flickering and barely lit.

“You had a bit of chocolate at the corner of your mouth.” His smile widened. “I hope you don’t mind. It was, of course, my greatest pleasure to serve, my dear.”

He licked you. You were sure of it. Almost sure. It had just happened, yes? You touched the spot on your mouth, still buzzing from his intimate touch. “Did you . . . lick me?”

“What a marvelous little robin you are. So observant.” Victor brushed a bit of loose hair back from your face. “I hope I did not overstep?”

“No. I mean. Yes but not - I didn’t mind. At all.” You tried to organize your thoughts but the memory of that light brush from his tongue overrode everything else. 

He finally took a sip of his cocoa, a look of pleased contentment on his face. “Good. I do enjoy doting on you, my dear. Ever so much.”

@queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys

[wonderingpanda]

MM/Tales Mikey and his S/O. being "improv bf and ballet gf"?

Improvised Ballet

Tottmnt!Mikey x Ballerina!Reader

Ok, I had no idea if that post was going to get out there but it did so that’ll you guys! I have 3 other request to work on at the moment and I love them all so thank you, keep it coming! I tried to stick to clichés mostly as I really wasn’t sure how to write this but I hope I did well so please, enjoy!

You and Mikey first met in dance

It seemed like a fun elective and most of his improv friends were doing it so he figured, why not?

Upon entering the classroom, you were one of the first people he noticed

You were just sitting there, doing some personal stretches before warm-up, and all he could think was

“Damn, that girl can bend like spaghetti! Or pizza I guess. Mmmm I love pizza. Shoot, now I’m craving pizza! With a golden crust and gooey, delicious cheese…”

“Mikey! We’re about to start dude.” He was so deep into his own thoughts his friend had to snap him out of it. Wouldn’t be the first time either

“Oh yeah totally, I’ll be right there.” And as he moved to go find a spot, he couldn’t help but notice you gazing over in his direction. Interesting… very interesting

As time went by he kept being drawn to you. He noticed you in the halls, at lunch, but most of the time he’d be caught looking over at you during dance

Eventually, the class had to split into groups and each work on a group piece to present. Turns out, you guys had quite a few mutual friends and ended up being dragged into the same group together

Mikey, ever the extrovert, immediately took the opportunity to introduce himself and you guys got to talking

He found out you were mainly there to do ballet. Also contemporary (as that was the main focus of the class) but mainly ballet

Also apparently the school has a dance team, sick!

He did get to hear all about the ballet classes you take out of school and all the pain joy that rehearsal brings

In all honesty, you love it, it just requires a lot of physical strength

From that day onwards, you guys kept talking and hanging in class, then out of class, then out of school

It was awesome and Mikey couldn’t be happier, he had found a new close friend

As you two hung out more, some feelings started to grow

Nothing really changed much but close contact like high-fives and hugs became increasingly heart-racing

Even sitting next to each other was enough to raise your heart rates

Also villains might of seen you two hanging out every now and then so there may have been some kidnappery that left you in need of saving

But it’s fine, you’re fine

Everything’s fine

It was actually after one of those daring rescues that he finally asked you out, after an attack on the school

He had originally planned to do a dance with your friends and make it a big gesture

But after that fight, he didn’t want to take any chances and possibly leave it too late

So, once everyone was safe and everything, he immediately ran to you

Y/n! Are you hurt or anything? Don’t worry Mikey, I’m fine. Okay cos I kind of have something to ask you. Sure, what is it? Will you go out with me?

He said it, straight up just like that

You said yes, obviously, but it wasn’t your answer he was super worried about

He just wanted the chance to let you know how he felt

And so, you two were quickly recognised as a couple around school

A theatre kid and a ballet kid, two performers each with unique styles that somehow mixed perfectly

Now, you had known who Mikey and his brothers were long before you two even first talked

I mean, the whole school knew about them; it wasn’t any big secret

But you’d never really talked to them in-person before not until they started teasing Mikey about his crush on you

Then they had to help save you and from there friendship was inevitable

Seriously, you can’t just ignore someone after they’ve helped save you… multiple times

And believe me, it doesn’t matter that you two were dating now, they still loved teasing Mikey about it

So sometimes you had to take extra measures to ensure payback was efficient

But don’t worry they still have their shells on, for now

However, there was one close friend of Mikey’s whom you struggled to get comfortable with

April

While I hate to say it, you and April didn’t get along easily

Being a ballet kid sometimes came with a bad rep and for someone like April, who had been picked on by so many people (including the ballet kids), trust wasn’t always easy to instil in others

You did manage to become friends though. Yes, some of the ballet people you hung out with weren’t the best and yes, you may have laughed along with their cruel jokes to try and fit in but that was the past

Also, surprisingly, April is super forgiving and chill so everything’s good between you two now

As for how you and Mikey are as an actual couple, well…

There’s running through halls

MIKEY, DROP THE GLITTER BOMB! But Donnie made it just for meeee! That doesn’t-no-stop-get back here you turd! TURD!? What kind of an insult is that! Mikey! Catch me if you can!

Crying to movies

Why’d they have to kill the dog! I don’t know. I loved that little guy. *sniffle* I-I know *simultaneous sobbing*

Mikey teaching you improv

So the idea is we go around in a circle and keep a steady rhythm. And you keep that rhythm by using hand gestures and yelling ‘wah’? Exactly! Ok… just wondering, how does this relate to improv? I don’t know. I guess it’s cos it makes you think on the spot. Right.

And you teaching Mikey ballet

Come on, stretch! Ahhh! Stretch! I-I can’t! Yes you can! Now STRETCH! Aaaoooww!!!

Oh, and sometimes you have to be a bit strict with him

Mikey loves chaos and has been raised on it but you’ve been taught to follow the rules so much that not doing so almost seems terrifying

So if, on the odd occasion, Mikey is trying to hide something from you it’s ok

He’s not cheating, just breaking the law

He loves attending your concerts and follows no laws of theatre etiquette which can be embarrassing but also adorable

You, on the other hand, found it almost life-changing to go to one of Mikey’s improv nights

The audience interaction and goofy scenes made it all so thrilling and exciting

And while you do have friends who had been doing improv for ages, you’d never actually attended one of the shows before

But your bf is the exception, forever and always

You still haven’t met his dad as you refuse to enter the sewers and Splinter still struggles with coming out in broad daylight

And your parents are yet to hear of your relationship as you have no idea how they’d feel about you dating a mutant turtle

They do, of course, know of your friendship but perhaps you’ll wait a bit before breaking the news that it’s a little more now

And the shots they’d make you take just for kissing him, the thought is draining

Besides, it can’t be that dangerous to kiss a turtle… can it?

👀

And don’t worry, I didn’t forget about the precious mutanimals

They know of you but you are yet to meet, you’ll talk eventually though

Overall, your relationship is messy, chaotic, thrilling and partially secretive

But it feels right

I hope I did good. Also, I’m an ex-ballet kid and a current theatre kid so I found this hilarious to write. And I do mean ex-ballet kid, I haven’t done proper classes in years so apologies if I got some stuff wrong. Anyway, as usual, please have a lovely day/night wherever you are!✨

[ask-rain-world-characters]

Okay, this is for everyone who wants to answer.

You are given a choice. You will have immortality, and millions of dollars (or something else you may want,) but there's a catch. There is a snail that knows where you are at all times, and its only goal is to make its way to you. Once it touches you, you die. Do you take the offer? If so, what will you do?

Survivor's Answer:

Hunter's Answer:

Watcher's Answer:

Gourmand's Answer:

Rivulet's Answer:

Enot's Answer:

Five Pebbles' Answer:

No Significant Harassment's Answer:

Sliver of Straw's Answer:

Nightcat plush image - @areon103 Transcripts:

Survivor: "See answering this question is redundant because no matter what scheme I cook up, the decoy snail can never be beaten, apparently. Trust me. I've tried."

Hunter: “Immortality is an iffy choice, and I don’t really need all that money… but I’d gladly trade it in for something else! So yes! I’ll take whatever challenge you give me, amigo! For I am the great and mighty-“ *ding dong! “huh? Hold that thought i have a guest! Who is it?” ”… oh no.”

Watcher: "No, I don't think I will take offer no matter what... but I heard this one before, and I think you forgot to make snail immortal as well... also what is a dollar?"

Gourmand: "I don't think we'd need anything more than what we currently have. Honestly, things have been going quite well for us! And with the immortality, well... some are already suspecting that there's some finicky force, that prevents one from dying. And I'm starting to think they might be right - so I don't think I'd need that either. But if someone else accepted this, I think I could take a shot at making that Snail for you. .......you want it?"

Rivulet: "Alright listen, sure the snail could theoretically kill me in one blow because of weird technicalities surrounding this arbitrary challenge, BUT, you have to consider the fact on how slow this snail is, I could do multiple laps on the snail, and he won't have any chance of grazing me a single time. So, yes! I would take the million dollars, it's, the easiest million dollars I've gotten in my li-" *Faint stream of noise is heard from afar* Wait, what is that sound...? *A jet squid comes by at a alarmingly high speed, with the snail being on top* "AAAAAHH-" *splatter* *Rain World death SFX plays*

Enot: "...'anything I want'? ...does that happen to include a date? ...maybe 8? ...sign. me. uuuuuuuup! Besides I can just kill it with one of my good ol' eggs, a snail cant be that resilient!"

Five Pebbles: "…What a ludicrous question. There are so many specifics to be questioned regarding this - does touching ‘me’ count as my facility? My can? Or My puppet? Far too many complications. Though I suppose I could simply wish for ascension, and the ordeal would be over with immediately, would it not? I highly doubt there is any way for this snail to reach ascension as well, so I’m assuming that would be the end of it."

No Significant Harassment: "Well, I think I already have the immortality part covered, and I don't have much use for money, but that is an interesting conundrum. I suppose if there were a way I could trap the snail so it couldn't reach me, it would be the perfect solution."

Sliver of Straw: What an interesting thought experiment. I am already immortal, to some degree. Nor do I have any record of what "dollars" are in my database, although it seems to be a kind of currency. I believe this question was posed for my creators, rather than my own kind. I'm afraid they aren't around anymore. Regardless! It can be fun to entertain these kinds of meaningless hypothetical experiments. After all, that's what we do; experiment! Over, and over, and over again. I've heard of snails before, but they aren't native to my area. They're wetland animals. It would certainly have to travel a considerable distance to reach me! And once it does, what specifically counts as "me"? My can would be the most obvious answer, but even then it can be difficult to define where one thing ends and another begins. The many pipes, bores, reserves, and disposal units that make up my facility grounds are as much a part of me as they are vital to my function, but they have no consciousness. Do I die if it touches one of my overseers? Once it touches me, how exactly do I die? There are far too many variables here to consider the full picture in complete objective fact, which is rather an important thing to do when my hypothetical life is on the line. Then again, very few theories we study are based in much fact anymore. We only have blissful hope left. Well, and old scriptures. Oh, I got distracted! ....Anyway, I don't take the offer, I have no use for items of monetary value. Is sending the snail to the Void Sea out of the question?

[beauty-and-passion]

Idk if you mentioned this before but, I’ve been rewatching some SaSi reaction videos recently and apparently there like a lot of inside jokes that can be easily missed if you are not in the patreon or the writers room. It also seems like the ideas that Logan and Janus are alcoholics idea came from there.

Personally I don’t like those characterizations, it was funny as first bc it was more subtle and a one off, but why is it that Janus is showing up drunk it doesn’t really makes sense—unless you’re in the writers room it seems that Ms Sanders doesn’t really care about getting new audiences or retaining the free to watch ones it seems to me that SaSi turned into a secret society bs with all the peeps who are paying him. Idk if I articulated correctly but it seems that the sides are being flanderized to heck rn and idk how to feel

I also noticed the same problem you're talking about and I talked about it too. There's no doubt the characters' personalities changed and there's no doubt that this is due to Joan's departure and Mr. Sanders' inability to handle them.

And believe me, there's nothing wrong with not being able to do something: that's why experts exist. But Mr. Sanders still doesn't want to hire one. Maybe he still believes he can do everything by himself.

And maybe, he believes that the writers' room will give him all the help he needs in remembering the characters' personalities and traits. In this case, flash news, Mr. Sanders: the writers' room is made of fans. And fans (especially young ones) are:

always influenced by their own headcanons

not always able to separate headcanon from canon

So relying on them is very silly and naive and a competent writer would never let their public decide everything. But since Mr. Sanders isn't a writer (and doesn't shine for professionalism either), of course he ended up being influenced by his fans. They're fans, so they must know the characters, right?

Sigh.

The result being, as you said, flanderization. Logan is angry, Roman is sad, Patton is stupid, Janus is drunk, Remus is weird and Virgil is edgy uwu. Nuances, details, being more than one single character trait? Everything lost.

I mean, the last GRWM with Janus was proof of how little Mr. Sanders understands this character and how flanderized Janus has been. Janus, the one who was characterized by shades of gray and nuances, is now just one thing, the last one people remember the most.

Sigh.

And yes, this makes me sad and frustrated, because the potential these characters had was huge. The mere idea that each of them had not just one main trait, but multiple traits that were linked to the main one in different ways... that was interesting. That was fun. It offered a ton of great material to work with. And the nuances of their personalities were a lot more interesting than just "drunk guy, alcohol funny ahah".

But in this case, I can't really blame the fans: fans are allowed to be fans. If they want to reduce the character's personalities to a sheet of paper, that's up to them. The author should be the competent one, he should make the characters more realistic. And he should be clever enough to not give fans so much freedom into a topic as delicate as the characterization.

[mari-writes]

Second year Bokuto who is struggling in math class and so enlists Akaashi, the new first year setter, to help him study.

Akaashi agrees (quickly), and they make a habit of it. Two months in, Bokuto realizes how much he loves hanging out with his teammate outside of the court. So he starts requesting help with other classes, like English and history, despite not needing as much help in those subjects.

He wonders if Akaashi knows. Wonders if the boy is catching on that aside from Algebra, he’s doing perfectly fine. Bokuto has never exactly excelled in academics, but he’s not failing either. He thinks he’s pretty average when it comes to grades. 

But how else can he justify them hanging out together outside of practice? He really doesn’t know. So he keeps asking, not quite “playing dumb” but posing certain questions and insisting Akaashi is the only one who can help.

“You’re the smartest person I know,” he’d declare, “and I trust you more than anyone!” For some reason, that would always work. Akaashi would turn away, the tips of his ears a bit pink, and agree right away.

But eventually, inevitably, Akaashi catches on. He finally speaks up after Bokuto asks him to help study for an upcoming science test.

“Bokuto-san, I recall you doing well in your Physical Science course last year.” He raises one perfect eyebrow, with a scrutinizing look that sends a thrill up Bokuto’s spine. “Do you expect me to believe you need help with Biology, of all things?”

“I mean, um,” Bokuto swallows harshly. “I just thought that maybe—”

Akaashi sighs. He turns in his seat, leaning one elbow against Bokuto’s desk. They’ve been working on other subjects for a couple of hours now. Papers are scattered about, and two empty owl-shaped tea mugs are set to the side.

Bokuto really hopes he hasn’t made things weird between them. “I’m sorry, ‘kaashi!” He reaches up to grip at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ugh, I’m so annoying! Don’t look at me!”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says, and the lack of a honorific surprises Bokuto out of his spiraling thoughts. He glances up to see the other boy staring at him intently.

“Yes?” Bokuto holds his breath.

“You don’t actually need my help with any of this,” Akaashi declares. “So why did you ask?”

Bokuto stares. Does Akaashi really not know? Wow, his new setter is a touch more oblivious than he initially thought! “Well, um,” he stutters, “Obviously I just… wanted us to hang out.”

Apparently, Akaashi hadn’t been expecting that at all. His mouth drops open. He blinks. It takes him a few awkward moments to respond. “You… want to hang out… with me?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh.”

Bokuto waits patiently as the boy seems to work something out in his mind. No doubt he is overthinking, running through all possible meanings of Bokuto’s simple words. He looks bewildered. It’s… sort of cute. Bokuto chuckles. 

“Is that so crazy? That I like hanging out with you?”

Akaashi shrugs. He turns back the the desk, reaching out to fiddle with a pencil. Bokuto watches in delight as a blush creeps up the boy’s slender neck. “I suppose not,” Akaashi’s voice is quiet. “I’m just… not use to it.”

They fall into silence. Bokuto shifts in his chair, watching Akaashi closely, allowing him to lead them out of this charged moment. The only sounds come from the fan spinning overhead and his own heavy breathing.

Suddenly, Akaashi scoots his chair back and stands, causing Bokuto to flinch. “Okay,” he nods, carefully moving around to grab his jacket from the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Let’s go, then.”

“Huh?” Confused, Bokuto slowly unfolds from his seat. “Go? Where?”

“You wanted to hang out.” Another shrug. He tosses over Bokuto’s jean jacket; Bokuto catches it easily with one hand. “So we might as well do that somewhere fun. Like the arcade. Or, um, we could go get food?”

Akaashi has made it to the door now, looking back over his shoulder, face is as impassive as ever. But there’s a new sort of spark in his eyes, one that Bokuto isn’t sure what to make of.

(He might be sort of excited to figure it out.)

“You coming?”

Bokuto pulls on his jacket, feeling light as a feather as he follows his new friend out of the room. He smiles.

This might be the start of something great.

 🤗❤️ 

//

I imagine that after middle school, 2nd year Bo is still worried about overwhelming others, not wanting to scare them away. Love the idea that Akaashi immediately agreeing to practice, study and hang out as friends means a lot to him.

Please REBLOG and comment if you enjoyed🥰

[euphoricfilter]

Hiiiiii! Can you do a drabble for hobi

3. Smut(idk if that's the right one but anyways-)Ik that hobi is always portrayed as a hard dom but I kind of want to see him all soft dommy and fluffy cus maybe the reader is a virgin

"Don't cry, it will feel better soon"

maybe the first, but not the last time:

pairing: soft dom! hoseok x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || established relationship au || non-idol au ||

summary: hoseok was written by a woman, and you're lucky he's all yours.

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: fluff, smut in the forms of: vaginal fingering because hobi is a pleasure dom and a sweetheart and wants to make sure the reader is comfortable before she eventually loses her virginity, masturbation, mentions of bleeding.

notes: based on and off stage persona alone, i fully believe that hobi could pull off being both either soft or a little mean

drabble masterlist || my main masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hoseok was written by a woman. 

And as much as you’d been skeptical at first, how any human could be so perfect, a man no less, months after making it official he showed no signs of any ill intentions; no hidden ulterior motives that usually lurked in the shadows, only making an appearance when your partner had you wholly to themselves. 

It was inevitable that the topic of sex would be brought up at some point in his courting of you, and as much as he hadn’t been pushy about it, you still felt there would always be the dreaded expectation of one day having to lose your virginity hanging over your relationship like a stormcloud. 

You cursed society for feeding you doubt, because truly virginity didn’t mean anything, shouldn’t mean anything. And as much as you like to remind yourself of this fact, it was the niggling anxiety of intimacy that had you shying away from the topic. 

Hoseok was far from reserved. He had no qualms about peeing with the door open, or skipping around your apartment with nothing but a towel on, truly making himself comfortable around you. And that’s when you realized that maybe Hoseok was the person you wanted to hand your wretched v-card to, because if it were to be anyone, then it’s going to be Hobi. 

He’d made it apparent he was in this for the long run, so if not now, then when? 

“Are you sure?” his eyebrows crease, watching as you shift from foot to foot; you look ever so pretty stood looking down at him, the cutest little hue of pink dusting your cheeks. 

“Yeah” you nod, tongue wetting your bottom lip. 

“You’re nervous” he points out, sinking a little further into the couch, legs falling open. 

“I mean it’s kind of a big deal?” your shoulders deflate, working yourself up for the impending rejection, you can see it on the tip of his tongue. 

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal” he shrugs, “The concept of virginity is a pile of dogshit” 

You stifle a laugh behind your hand, “But what if I’m bad?” 

The corner of Hoseok’s lip tugs up, “You’re inexperienced, not bad” he tells you, patting his thigh– and you follow, settling gently over his lap. 

Hoseok’s hands run over your back, teasing at the hem of your shirt; never venturing to run over your bare skin, “Plus, I really like you” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” your eyebrows crease, stomach tensing as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“You could give me the worst head ever, and I’d probably still cum, you’re so pretty baby” he murmurs, “Just looking at you is enough, you don’t have to do any of the hard bits– let me take care of you” 

You nod. 

“Words, darling” he tucks your hair behind your ear, “I need to know you really want this” 

“I want it” you whisper, absolutely mesmerized. 

“Do you trust me?” he dares ask, hands holding your cheeks as your body goes lax in his lap. 

“Yes, with my whole life” 

“That’s bold of you, baby” he laughs, “Lucky I’d trust you with mine, yeah?” 

You swallow thickly, fingers eager as you tug at the waistband of his sweats.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable” he pats your ass, arms hooking under your thighs, balancing your body over his shoulder. 

He’s gentle as he lays you down on his bed, and you say nothing as he takes long strides into the bathroom, emerging seconds later with a towel. He must see your confusion, “Just in case you bleed” 

“You’re not really helping with my nerves” you admit and Hoseok’s head tips back in laughter. 

“It’s common, nothing to worry about” 

You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, prickly realization that this was actually happening hitting you full force, “Can I keep my shirt on?” you whisper, a small part of you hoping that maybe he hadn’t heard you. 

His eyes widen by a fraction, “Of course, if that’s what you want” he nods, “We’ll go as slow as you need” 

It’s embarrassing, the dribble of slick that dampens your panties as Hoseok looms over you. Pretty lips kissing down your jaw until your fingers tangle in hair, pulling him up for a kiss. 

You shudder as his hand slips past the waistband of your shorts, “Is this okay?” he asks, teasing the lacy trim of your panties. 

You nod, hips bucking upwards in search of sweet relief. His thumb brushes over your panty-covered clit, a sharp moan barely muffled by a hand slipping past your lips. 

“You’re so sensitive, darling” he croons, “Are you comfortable taking these off” he toys with the string of your shorts, and you nod, tugging both your sleep shorts and panties off as your boyfriend rummages through his nightstand. 

He lubes his fingers up, gentle as his free hand roams your body, slow enough that you know what he’s doing.

Your thighs twitch as a finger prods the entrance of your cunt, “Is this okay?” he asks, barely pushing into you. 

You nod, head tilting to watch as his thumb flicks over your clit, electric pleasure pushing another pitiful dribble of slick over Hoseok’s fingers. 

You don’t have the right words to explain how it feels when one of your boyfriend’s fingers push past your walls, strange stretch overpowered by the pad of his fingers dragging over such an intimate place. 

Saline tears gather at your waterline, utterly overwhelmed by the onslaught of new sensations.

It’s as Hoseok eases a second finger into you that you blink, wetting your cheeks. 

"Don't cry, it will feel better soon" he coos, fingers curling into your sweet spot. Your hips buck up at the unexpected pleasure. 

“It doesn’t feel bad” you hiccup, “Just a little weird” 

“Just relax for me, yeah?” he kisses behind your ear, “It will all feel a lot better if you just relax” 

The tighness in your muscles uncoils, eyes squeezing shut as you focus on the slow drag of Hoseok’s fingers thrusting into you. 

His thumb presses down on your clit, heat simmering throughout your body, “Hobi” you cry, “Gonna–” your hand flies to cover your mouth, cheeks flushed red. Sudden relief washing over you as you tip over the edge. 

“That’s it” he croons, gently pulling his fingers out of you, “You did so well” he shushes you, hands firms as they run over your quivering thighs. “I think that’s enough for today” he tells you. 

“But–” you start, blinking up at him when he presses a finger to your lips. 

“No buts baby, I told you we’ll take it slow. 2 fingers were pushing it, and that’s okay” 

“What about you?” your glance down at his cock, tip an angry red that you can only assume hurts. 

“Do you mind if I–?” he gestures down to his length, pre-cum dribbling down his shaft at your unwavering attention. 

“It’s okay” you nod, watching as his hand wraps around his cock, slicked up with your arousal from his hands, lithe wrist picking up the pace as he tugs at his length. 

Your cunt clenches around nothing as Hoseok cums over your thighs, milky white, painting your skin with his release. 

“How about I run a bath for you?” 

“Can we bathe together?” you ask, watching a gentle smile tug at his lips. 

“If you’re okay with that, then I’d love to” he hums, “You wait here, pretty baby” 

“Be quick, I feel sticky” 

Hoseok was written by a woman, and this may be the first time you’d given yourself to a man, maybe not having gone all the way, but you’re sure this wouldn’t be the last time. Because like Hoseok, you saw yourself in this for the long run. 

🌻 thank you for reading!! feedback is always welcome

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc