#((i will now repeat a joke i said on discord))

[lemonlover1110]

can we get boyfriend/husband fluff with toji please🥹

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Summary: Toji tends to crack a couple of dad jokes to make you laugh.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji does anything to put a smile on your face. He’s picked up a habit of cracking bad jokes every five to ten minutes to hear your laugh. He says the most ridiculous things on purpose, just to lighten up your mood. He would’ve called himself an idiot a couple of years back, but nothing beats the feeling of hearing you chuckle at something he said.

“Are you paying attention?” You ask with a mouthful of popcorn, noticing that your boyfriend is intently looking at his phone. The movie that’s on is one that he picked, making you wonder what’s more interesting than what’s on the television. You try to peek at what he’s looking at, but he moves his phone so the screen is out of your sight. Your brows furrow and you yell, “Toji! Are you looking at other women?!”

“Yeah.” He’s joking, but you snatch the phone out of his hand. He whines and you begin to scroll through it, confusion consuming you. He has to look away, too embarrassed to look your way but not being brave enough to take his phone back. “Are you almost done?”

“What are these?” You ask him, reading each and every line that’s on the screen. “I’ve never been a fan of facial hair. But now it’s growing on me.”

“Well aren’t you going to laugh? That one was funny.” Toji says, and you do chuckle but not because of the awful joke.

“So you’re just looking up dad jokes whenever you’re with me.” You finally come to the realization that this is the reason why Toji is almost always taking out his phone. It’s obvious, but you never really noticed how he’d read something over and over again on his phone before repeating it to you five minutes later. You thought the awful jokes came naturally once a man turned into a dad.

He lets out a sigh before nodding. He expects you to be disappointed but in one swoop moment you throw your arms over him and begin to fill his face with kisses, “You’re just the sweetest.”

“I know.” He answers, though he doesn’t think he’s so great. He’s not going to say anything that’ll make you stop kissing him. “Some of them were originally mine though.”

“Like? Which jokes?” You ask, stopping. You proceed to lay your head on his chest, giving him back his phone so he can continue to read his awful jokes to you.

He scratches the back of his neck before admitting, “The ones that didn’t make you laugh.”

[stolenorchids]

WARNINGS - this drink may include the following: fem!reader, use of y/n, phone sex, teasing, marking, oral (fem!receiving), mutual masturbation, use of the word 'god' (not really a warning, however apparently people get triggered by it, so, y'know), swearing, only proof-read once - I think that's all, but please let me know if I missed anything^^

ALC percentage - 5.7% (5.7k words)

the stream was in full swing, the chat buzzing with emotes and inside jokes as Shoto leaned back in his chair, his mischievous grin practically lighting up the screen. his voice carried that playful confidence his fans adored, and his vtuber model mimicked his smirk perfectly.

"alright, chat," he drawled, glancing at the cascading wall of messages. "we’ve got a guest today - someone you all seem to be obsessed with. can you guess who it is?"

the chat immediately exploded with excitement: "IT'S HER!!" and "FINALLY LET'S GO!"

"you guessed it. let’s welcome the one and only-" he paused, dragging it out just long enough to make the anticipation unbearable. "our very own shy queen."

the discord call connected, and your voice came through, soft but warm. "hi, Shoto. hi, chat." the stream erupted with hearts and inside jokes. Shoto tilted his head slightly, his avatar following suit, as he leaned closer to his mic. "you sound nervous, y/n. am I making you blush already?" you chuckled softly. "you wish, Shoto."

the chat exploded.

for the next hour, the two of you bounced off each other effortlessly, the rhythm of teasing and laughter keeping the energy alive. Shoto, true to form, leaned into his flirtatious side, making sure the chat was in on the fun.

"you’re too quiet, y/n," he teased, his voice dipping into mock seriousness. "you’re supposed to help me carry the stream! unless…" he leaned closer, his avatar’s mischievous smirk sharpening as his tone softened. "you just like hearing me talk, huh?"

the audience immediately erupted, spamming "HE'S AT IT AGAIN" and "RIZZ MASTER."

Shoto grinned, fully expecting the usual shy laugh and change of topic. but this time, you surprised him.

"you know," you said after a pause, your voice light but steady, "I do like hearing you talk. it’s cute: watching you try so hard to impress me."

the silence on his end was deafening, though only for a moment. his vtuber model stilled for half a second before suddenly throwing its arms up in exaggerated shock as Shoto burst out laughing.

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" he screamed out, leaning back in his chair, his avatar mimicking the motion. the chat erupted, spamming "SHE GOT HIM" and "CLIP IT CLIP IT!"

Shoto covered his face with his hands, his voice breaking into a flustered laugh. "y/n, you can’t just - where did THAT come from?!"

you grinned, enjoying his reaction. "what? you flirt with everyone all the time. I figured it was my turn."

"your turn?!" Shoto repeated, tugging at his hoodie strings. his model mimicked the motion, his face still red as he stammered. "chat, help me! she’s turning the tables, and I wasn’t ready for it!"

the chat doubled down, spamming "SHE'S TOO POWERFUL" and "RIZZ WAR DECLARED."

"alright, alright," he said finally, pointing toward the camera like he was accusing you of a crime. "you win this round. but don’t think I’m letting you off easy next time."

you giggled, your usual shyness melting away as you leaned into the playful atmosphere. "looking forward to it."

for the rest of the stream, Shoto was visibly more cautious, his usual flirtatious quips replaced with dramatic pauses as though gauging your next move. the chat noticed too, poking fun at how he was now "playing it safe."

but everyone could tell - this new dynamic was only the beginning.

the stream wound down after another hour of playful banter and shared laughter, the tension from your earlier comment still lingering in the air. Shoto’s usual energy had shifted slightly - not lessened, but… focused. every time you spoke, he seemed to hang on your words just a little longer, and the chat didn’t miss a thing.

"HE'S BLUSHING AGAIN," they spammed. "HER RIZZ IS TOO STRONG."

"alright chat," Shoto said, his voice carrying an edge of finality, though he still wore that trademark smirk. "it’s about time to wrap things up. any last words for y/n before we kick her out of the discord call forever?"

you snorted softly. "kicking me out already? I thought I was carrying the stream, Shoto."

the chat loved it, spamming "SHE'S TOO SAVAGE" and "ROUND TWO INCOMING."

"okay, okay," he replied, leaning back in his chair. his avatar mimicked the motion, arms crossing over its chest in a mock pout. "you carried… for like, ten minutes. I did most of the work."

"sure you did," you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shoto chuckled, his laughter trailing off into a quieter hum as the chat started spamming goodbyes and hearts. "alright y/n, say goodbye to the gremlins before they start crying."

you laughed. "bye, chat. thanks for having me!"

as the discord call ended and the stream screen transitioned to Shoto’s “thank you for watching” animation, you sighed softly, leaning back in your chair. and just as you were about to close the discord tab, Shoto’s voice popped back in through a private call.

"hey…" he said, his tone noticeably softer now that the stream was over. "got a second?"

you clicked to rejoin the call, your curiosity piqued. "what’s up?"

there was a pause, the comfortable hum of silence stretching between you two. then he spoke again, his voice losing its usual bravado.

"so…" he began, drawing out the word as though testing the waters. "you really caught me off guard earlier."

you grinned, your confidence from the stream still lingering. "oh? wasn’t that the point?"

"okay, listen," he said, laughing lightly, though it carried a nervous edge. you’re not supposed to turn my own game against me. that’s illegal."

"illegal?" you teased. "I thought it was fair play."

"you’re dangerous," he replied, and this time his voice dipped just slightly - a subtle shift that sent a shiver down your spine. "and I don’t think you realize what you started."

his words hung in the air, the playful tone from earlier now carrying something heavier, something more deliberate. you felt your cheeks warm, though you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anticipation.

"careful, Shoto," you replied, your voice quieter now. "you’re making it sound like you’re planning your revenge already."

there was a low chuckle on his end, the kind that made your breath hitch. "oh, I’m not planning anything." he paused, his voice softening even further. "i’m just thinking about how bold you were today. it was…new."

"did you not like it?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"like it?" he echoed, a teasing lilt creeping back into his tone. "I loved it. but now I’m wondering if that boldness is just for show… or if it’s real."

your breath caught in your throat. there it was - that unspoken tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all night, now bubbling to the top.

"why don’t you find out?" you said before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out in a low, almost challenging tone.

the line went quiet for a moment, the weight of your words settling. when Shoto finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

"careful, y/n," he said, his usual teasing replaced with something darker, more intimate. "you might not be ready for what happens if I do."

the silence after his words was deafening, the weight of them settling deep in your chest. you could hear your own heartbeat, pounding steadily in your ears as Shoto’s soft laughter broke through the quiet.

"speechless?" he teased, his voice carrying a low hum of satisfaction. "that’s a first."

you swallowed hard, gripping your phone a little tighter. his confidence was intoxicating, but the shift in his tone - the way it lingered in that space between teasing and serious - made your pulse quicken.

"not speechless," you countered, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach. "just wondering if you’re all talk."

that earned a sharp inhale from his end. his chuckle returned, darker now, like you’d just issued a challenge he was eager to accept.

"y/n," he said softly, his voice curling around your name in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "you’re playing a dangerous game right now."

"and you’re the one who started it," you shot back, though your tone betrayed the mix of excitement and hesitation you felt.

"fair enough," he murmured, and you could hear the shift in his posture - the faint creak of his chair as he leaned forward, as if closing the distance between you, even through the screen.

the air between you felt thick now, the playful edge giving way to something far more intense.

"you know," he began, his voice quieter now, almost intimate. "i’ve always wondered how far you’d let me take this. the teasing, the flirting... I didn’t think you’d ever actually bite back."

"well, you seemed so confident," you replied, letting your voice dip just slightly, testing the waters. "I didn’t think you’d fluster so easily."

a low groan slipped from his lips, and you swore you heard his chair creak again. "you’re gonna regret saying that," he muttered, though there was no malice in his tone - just a simmering heat that sent your thoughts spiraling.

"am I?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet enough to make him pause.

for a moment, you thought he might laugh it off, but instead, he let the silence hang, heavy and charged. when he finally spoke, his words sent a jolt through you.

"turn your camera on."

your breath hitched. the request was simple, but the command in his tone left no room for argument.

"Shoto-"

"please." he added quickly, softening the edge just enough to make it feel like a choice. "I want to see you."

your hands trembled slightly as you adjusted your webcam, the soft click of the activation sounding louder than it should have. when your face appeared on your screen, you saw his vtuber model react in sync with him - his usual mischievous smirk replaced with a more focused expression, his avatar leaning in as if he were truly watching you.

"hi…" you said softly, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

"hi," he murmured back, his voice lower now. "you look... flushed."

you bit your lip, suddenly hyper-aware of how warm your face felt. "well, whose fault is that?"

"mine." he said without hesitation, his smirk returning. "and I’m not done yet."

your breath hitched as his model leaned closer, and you could feel the tension in his voice. “you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to see this side of you, y/n. you’re usually so shy. it’s cute, but… this?"

"what about this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"this confidence," he said, his tone dropping further. "it’s driving me crazy."

his words sent a jolt of heat through you, and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your lips. "good," you replied, surprising even yourself with your boldness.

there was a sharp intake of breath on his end. "god, you’re gonna kill me," he muttered, his voice carrying a raw edge that sent shivers down your spine.

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the weight of everything unspoken between you. when he finally broke it, his voice was barely audible.

"if I were there right now," he began, his words slow and deliberate, "I wouldn’t hold back."

"then it’s a good thing you’re not," you replied, though your voice wavered slightly.

"why’s that?" he asked, his tone sharp, challenging.

"because I wouldn’t either," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could think twice.

his low growl of approval sent a wave of heat crashing through you. "y/n..."

the way he said your name felt like a caress, and suddenly, the distance between you felt unbearable.

"tell me what you’d do," he said, his voice rough with restraint.

your heart pounded in your chest as his words wrapped around you, pulling you into a heady mix of anticipation and desire. the playful banter from earlier felt like a distant memory now, replaced by something far more intimate, far more dangerous.

"i’d…" you hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the screen. "i’d make you regret teasing me so much."

his laugh was soft, almost disbelieving. "oh, i’d love to see you try."

your confidence surged, the tension between you thick and electric. "maybe one day you will."

"i’ll hold you to that," he said, his voice a low promise.

the call stretched on for multiple hours, as the line between teasing and something far deeper had vanished. Shoto’s voice, warm and low through your headphones, filled the quiet of your room. the tension between you had reached its peak, and neither of you seemed willing - or able - to pull back.

"I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me," he said, his voice rougher now, like he was struggling to keep his composure.

"what am I doing to you?" you asked, a playful lilt in your tone, though your body betrayed the growing ache that his words ignited.

"everything," he admitted without hesitation, the single word wrapping around you like a tether, pulling you closer to the edge of something you’d never expected.

the camera feed was still on, his vtuber model animating on one side of your screen, but the image seemed distant now, insignificant compared to the sound of his voice and the heat in his words.

"you have no idea how long I’ve thought about this," he continued, his tone slow, deliberate. "hearing your voice like this, knowing how flustered you are right now. it’s driving me insane."

"i’m not flustered," you tried to argue, though the breathy quality of your voice gave you away.

Shoto chuckled softly, and the sound sent shivers down your spine. "don’t lie to me, y/n. I can hear it in your voice. you’re just as caught up in this as I am."

your cheeks burned as his words pulled a soft gasp from your lips. you shifted slightly in your seat, the ache between your thighs growing impossible to ignore.

"and you’re not helping," you muttered, your voice quieter now.

"good," he replied, his voice dropping lower. "I don’t want to help. I want to make it worse."

the intensity in his tone made your breath hitch, and you bit your lip to keep from making a sound. Shoto’s sharp intake of breath told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"don’t do that," he said softly, his voice almost a growl.

"do what?"

"bite your lip," he replied, his words sending a jolt of heat through you. "you don’t know what it does to me."

a rush of boldness surged through you, and you leaned closer to your mic, your voice dropping into a whisper. "what if I do know?"

silence followed, heavy and charged, before Shoto let out a low, frustrated groan.

"y/n, you’re killing me," he muttered, his voice strained.

"good," you replied, echoing his earlier words, your confidence growing with every sound he made.

the air between you crackled with unspoken desire, the distance between your two rooms feeling unbearably vast. you could hear the subtle shift of his chair, the faint rustle of fabric as he adjusted himself, and the thought sent a flush of heat through your body.

"tell me what you’re doing right now," he said suddenly, his voice rough with need.

Your breath hitched, the vulnerability of the question sending a thrill through you. "I…" you hesitated, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"don’t hold back," he urged, his tone softening just enough to coax you forward. "I want to hear you."

your fingers trembled as you trailed them over the hem of your shirt, your voice barely audible as you replied. "i’m…touching myself."

a low curse slipped from his lips, the sound unraveling what little composure you had left. "fuck, y/n," he muttered, his voice filled with raw want. "you have no idea how much I wish I could be there right now."

"tell me what you’d do," you whispered, your own voice trembling with anticipation.

Shoto’s response was immediate, his words spilling out in a husky rush. "i’d start slow," he said, his voice like a caress. "my hands on your thighs, pushing them apart so I could see you. i’d take my time, make you beg for it."

a soft whimper escaped your lips at the vividness of his words, and Shoto groaned in response.

"are you touching yourself now?" you asked, your voice barely a breath.

"yeah," he admitted, the rawness in his tone making your whole body thrum with heat. "I can’t stop thinking about you. the way you sound, the way you’d feel under me..."

his words broke something in you, and you let your own restraint slip, your soft gasps filling the space between his deep, ragged breaths. the distance between you no longer mattered - every word, every sound, pulled you closer together, until it felt like you were sharing the same space, the same air.

"Shoto," you murmured, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

"i’m here," he replied, his voice a quiet promise. "i’ve got you."

your breath came in soft, uneven gasps, your hand brushing over your thighs as Shoto’s voice wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into the moment. his tone, once playful, was now rough and unrestrained, each word carrying the weight of his desire.

"y/n," he murmured, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. "tell me what you’re feeling right now."

your cheeks burned as your fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, trailing over the sensitive skin just above your inner thigh. "I feel…" you hesitated, your voice trembling with need, "warm…needy."

Shoto’s low groan echoed through your headphones, sending a shiver down your spine. "fuck," he muttered, his breath hitching. "keep going. tell me everything."

you bit your lip, your movements tentative as your fingers dipped lower, brushing against the damp fabric between your thighs. "i’m so wet," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"god," he breathed, his voice filled with longing. "do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?"

"tell me," you urged, your confidence building with every sound he made as your hand slipped the fabric of your underwear to the side.

his voice dropped lower, rough with restraint. "i’m so hard, y/n. I can’t stop thinking about you."

the confession sent a jolt of heat through your body, and you let out a soft moan, unable to hold back. Shoto’s sharp intake of breath told you he’d heard it, and his reaction only fueled your need.

"let me hear you," he said, his tone commanding but tender. "I want to know exactly how good you feel."

your fingers slipped beneath the fabric you just pulled to the side, gliding over the slick heat between your thighs. you let out a soft, breathy whimper, your head falling back against the chair as you lost yourself in the sensations.

"that’s it," Shoto murmured, his voice like a caress. "touch yourself for me. pretend it’s me."

your movements quickened as you dipped your ring finger into your pussy, your breaths growing heavier as his words spurred you on. "Shoto," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

"i’m right here," he replied, his own voice thick with arousal. you could hear the faint, rhythmic sounds on his end, his breathing uneven as he worked himself in time with you.

"I want to feel you," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could think. "I want your hands on me, your lips..."

"say it," he urged, his voice tight with need. "tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

your inhibitions melted away under the weight of his voice, and you let the words flow freely. "I want you to pin me down," you confessed, your voice trembling with a mix of shyness and boldness. "I want to feel your hands on my thighs, your fingers inside me…"

Shoto groaned deeply, the sound sending a wave of heat crashing over you. "fuck, y/n," he muttered, his voice strained. "i’d spread you open so I could see every inch of you. i’d take my time, make you beg for more."

the vividness of his words sent you spiraling as you added your middle finger, the added friction only fueling you on as your movements grew desperate and you chased the release building inside you. your soft gasps and whimpers filled the space between you, mixing with Shoto’s rough, uneven breaths.

"i’m close," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"me too," he replied, his tone ragged. "cum for me, y/n. let me hear you."

the command in his voice pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. Shoto followed moments later, his deep, guttural groan filling your headphones as he reached his own release.

the silence that followed was warm and heavy, the air between you still charged with the intimacy of the moment.

"y/n," Shoto murmured after a while, his voice soft and filled with affection.

"yeah?" you replied, your heart still racing.

"I meant what I said," he continued, his tone quieter now, more vulnerable. "if I were there, I wouldn’t be able to hold back."

you smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest. "maybe one day you won’t have to."

the heat between you hadn’t subsided, not even hours later. after you’d both succumbed to the intimacy of the moment, the call lingered on, neither of you willing to let go of the connection you’d found. Shoto’s voice, once playful and teasing, had softened, carrying a warmth that made your heart ache in the best way.

"are you still thinking about it?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

"about what?" you teased, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.

"don’t play coy," he murmured. "you know exactly what."

your lips curved into a smile as you leaned back in your chair, feeling the warmth of the screen light on your skin. "maybe I am," you admitted, your voice soft but honest.

"good," he replied, the smirk audible in his tone. "because I can’t stop thinking about it either. about you."

the weight of his words settled over you, sending a thrill through your chest. for so long, the playful banter between you had felt safe, like a dance you both knew the steps to. but now, it was different - real, raw, and impossible to ignore.

"you know," he began, a hint of hesitation creeping into his voice, "i’ve been thinking about seeing you. for real."

your breath caught, your heart skipping a beat as his words hung in the air. "you mean…?"

"in person," he clarified, his tone firmer now. "I want to meet you, y/n. I want to see your face, hear your voice without a mic, hold you..."

the vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten, and you felt a soft, giddy smile spread across your lips. "Shoto," you murmured, your voice tinged with affection. "i’d like that."

"yeah?" he asked, the excitement in his tone unmistakable.

"yeah," you replied, your heart racing at the mere thought.

the idea took root between you, growing more tangible with every passing minute. plans began to form - a weekend, a city, a quiet, private space where the two of you could finally let the tension between you reach its peak.

the hotel room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning. you stood near the window, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared out at the city skyline. you’d arrived an hour ago, nerves buzzing in your veins as you waited for the knock on the door.

when it finally came, your breath caught, and you hesitated for a moment before crossing the room. your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the handle, the weight of everything leading up to this moment pressing down on you.

and then, you opened the door.

Shoto stood there, looking every bit as handsome as you’d imagined. his hair was slightly tousled, his dark eyes warm and intense as they met yours. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you as you took each other in.

"hi.." he said finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

"hi.." you replied, your lips curving into a shy smile.

without another word, he stepped forward, his arms wrapping around you in a firm, grounding embrace. the scent of him - clean, warm, undeniably him - filled your senses, and you melted against him, your nerves easing as you felt the solid weight of his body against yours.

"you’re real…" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"so are you…" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

when he pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist, his gaze searching yours as if to confirm that this moment wasn’t just a dream. slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, gentle kiss.

it started soft, testing, but the heat between you ignited quickly. his hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as his tongue teased against yours. a soft whimper escaped your lips, and he groaned in response, his fingers tightening against your skin.

"do you have any idea how long i’ve wanted to do this?" he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with restraint.

"show me…" you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

he didn’t need to be told twice. his lips trailed down your jaw, pressing heated kisses along the curve of your neck as his hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of you he could reach. when his teeth scraped lightly against your skin, you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"fuck-" he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "you’re even more perfect than I imagined."

your knees buckled at his words, and he guided you back toward the bed, his body pressing you down against the cool sheets. his hands slipped beneath your shirt, the warmth of his palms sending shivers through you as he slid the fabric up and over your head.

"you’re beautiful," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you.

heat rushed to your cheeks, but before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands traced the curves of your body, his touch igniting a fire that burned through every inch of you.

when his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of wet kisses down your chest and stomach, you arched into him, your breath coming in soft, desperate gasps. the sensation of his hands and mouth on your skin was overwhelming, and the air between you was thick with anticipation, every small movement charged with electricity. Shoto's hands slid over your skin with deliberate care, his touch both firm and gentle, as if he were memorizing every curve and line of your body. his lips trailed over the soft skin of your neck, pausing to nip and suck, leaving purple and red marks that sent shivers through you.

"you're so sensitive…" he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with wonder and desire. "every little sound you make is driving me crazy."

your fingers tangled in his dark hair, tugging gently as you arched beneath him, your breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. "you’re one to talk," you whispered, your voice trembling but teasing. "I can feel how much you want this."

a low groan escaped him at your words, and his hips pressed against yours, his erection evident even through the layers of clothing still between you. "you have no idea…" he muttered, his tone rough with restraint.

you reached for the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing over the warm skin of his stomach as you tugged it upward. he helped you, pulling it off in one swift motion before leaning back over you, his bare chest pressing against yours. the heat of his skin against yours made your breath hitch, and you ran your hands over his shoulders, down his back, savoring the feel of him beneath your fingertips.

"god you’re beautiful…" he muttered, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands slid down to your hips. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, his gaze meeting yours as he slowly began to tug them down. "can I?"

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your hips to help him. his eyes darkened as the fabric slid away, leaving you in just your underwear. his hands roamed over your thighs, his touch both reverent and possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"god, y/n…" he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

the way he looked at you - like you were the only thing that mattered - made your cheeks flush, but the heat between your thighs demanded more. you reached for him, your hands moving to the button of his jeans, and he let out a sharp breath as you undid them, sliding them down his hips.

when he was finally as bare as you, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. the weight of him pressed against you, his hard length evident even through his boxers, and you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper as your hips shifted instinctively toward him.

"patience," he murmured against your lips, his voice teasing but strained. "I want to take my time with you."

his words sent a shiver through you, and he began a slow exploration of your body, his lips and hands tracing every inch of you. his mouth found the sensitive peaks of your chest, his tongue flicking over one of your nipples before moving to the other, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he sucked gently on the skin.

"Shoto..!" you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body arched into him.

"that's it…" he murmured against you, his voice like a command. "let me hear you."

his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of kisses down your stomach, and when his tongue flicked out to tease the sensitive skin just around your still-clothed pussy, you let out a soft cry, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

"you're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "is this all for me?"

"yes…" you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "only for you."

his eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze sent a wave of heat crashing over you. "good," he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. "because i’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name."

as he hears the soft whimpers you let put Shoto quikly drops his head down between your thighs. you let out a breathy sigh as he licks along your thigh, forming small, purple marks.

your head falls back against the pillow as Shoto drags open mouthed kisses up your thigh to your pussy, eyelids heavy and lips parting. you gasp, feeling his tongue sweep along your folds, almost teasing.

your fingers twist the sheets beneath you, back arching up off the bed as your hips jerk when Shoto sucks on your clit, his teeth grazing it just enough to let a shock run through your body.

he moans against you, not specifically loud, but obscene as one of your hands fly from the bed to his hair, tugging lightly at it.

you can feel the way he whimpers against you at your tugging, however he doesn’t look up at you, too focused on his tongue inside of you and the almost euphoric taste you bare. your thighs tighten around his head and you look down at him, your eyes half-lidded and bottom lip tugged into your mouth as you tug harder on his hair.

“fuck…” you breathe out, eyes widening slightly when you notice Shoto grinding his hips against the bed, desperate and erratic, trying to get himself off.

the sight alone sends a shock through your body, a loud moan escaping your throat as you push his head further into you, your lashes fluttering and thighs trembling on either side of his head. as he sucks on your clit your hips instinctively jerk up to grind harder against his face. you squirm as his tongue drags in and out of your pussy repeatedly, your moans turning almost pornographic.

your vision feels blurry and your thigh muscles burn as his tongue fucks you closer and closer to release. 

you try to nudge him, letting him know that you’re close. the lewd sounds of your moans, the sloppy sound of his tongue driving itself in and out of you, flicking over your clit, as well as the creaking of the bed, it’s all too much for you. you can’t keep this up. you fail to notice how your warning comes out as a garbled slur of incomprehensible words.

your entire body spasms when you cum, thrashing in his hold, your free hand flying up to grab the pillow behind your head as you cry out. “ahh!! Shoto~!” as you come down from your high you realize that he must have cum too, as you can feel the way his hips still against the bed, and you distantly hear the moans muffled against your pussy ‘god, he’s shameless,’ you think again as you lay limp against the bed, reeling from your intense orgasm, completely forgetting about how you had sounded the same, if not worse, mere seconds ago.

"are you good?" he asked softly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

"more than okay…" you replied, your voice still breathless, and as you lay tangled together, your breaths evening out and your bodies still pressed close, you knew that this was only the beginning of something far deeper - a connection that neither of you would ever let go of.

[darkenedroses-world]

Laser-Focused — Droid x Reader

gn!reader, playful chaos, stream shenanigans, chat roasting, post-stream moments, simp nation, request

The stream started off relatively chill—just Droid running through a solo match while his chat spammed jokes and commentary. The other guys were still finishing up their own things, promising to join in later, leaving Droid to hold down the fort. “Alright, chat,” he said, leaning back in his chair and cracking his knuckles. “Let’s see if I can carry this match solo, or if I’m about to embarrass myself in front of, like, three thousand of you.”

The chat immediately filled with:

You’re gonna fold.

Nah, Droid’s got this

Imagine dying in the first five minutes, lol

“Wow,” Droid muttered, squinting at the screen as he adjusted his aim. “Real supportive energy, chat. Love to see it.” Just as he started pushing toward the next objective, the Discord notification chimed in his headphones. His mouse froze mid-click, and the second your voice came through the call, his heart practically jumped out of his chest. “Hey, Droid,” you said casually, your voice warm and light. “Oh,” he blurted, his voice cracking slightly. “Hey! Uh, what’s up? You joining early?” You laughed softly. “Yeah, figured I’d hop on since the others are taking forever. That okay?” “Okay?” he repeated, his hands fumbling over his keyboard. “Yeah, of course! Totally okay. Great, actually. Perfect.” His chat noticed immediately.

Ohhhh, Droid’s folding already

Is that Y/N???

SIMPPPPP ALERT 🚨🚨🚨

You must have heard the shift in his tone because you chuckled. “You sure? You sound a little… I don’t know, flustered.” “Flustered? Me? Nah,” Droid said quickly, though his words tumbled over each other in a way that didn’t help his case. “I’m just focused. You know, laser-focused on this game.” His cursor moved erratically on-screen, and a sniper shot clipped him in the shoulder, almost taking him out. He winced as his chat exploded with messages.

Laser-focused, huh? 💀

This man is GONE

Y/N speaks = Droid dies

“You okay over there?” you asked, amusement lacing your tone. “Y-yeah, totally fine,” he said, frantically trying to recover in-game. “Just… adjusting my settings.” “Sure,” you teased. “Adjusting your settings or adjusting to me being here?” His brain short-circuited, and he let out a nervous laugh. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The chat was absolutely losing it now.

BRO IS BLUSHING SO HARD RN

HE CAN’T EVEN TALK

Someone save this man.

You smirked, leaning into your mic. “Droid, are you okay? You’re acting like you’ve never talked to me before.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m fine. It’s just—your timing caught me off guard. That’s all.” “Mhm,” you hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Well, don’t mind me. Just pretend I’m not here.” “Impossible,” he muttered under his breath, his chat catching it immediately.

IMAGINE BEING THIS DOWN BAD

Droid just exposed himself 💀

Y/N, he’s finished. Absolutely finished.

You laughed softly, your voice breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Relax, Droid. I’m just messing with you.” “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, though his face burned as he glanced at his second monitor, where the chat was absolutely roasting him. Just as he started to recover, you spoke again, your tone playful. “By the way, chat’s right. You’re really bad at pretending not to be a simp.” He froze, his hand slipping off the mouse as he stared at his screen. “I—I’m not simping! I don’t simp! I’m just… being nice.” “Uh-huh,” you said, your laugh sending shivers down his spine. “If you say so.” His chat, of course, ran with it.

HE’S DONE FOR

Y/N knows! IT’S OVER!

Stop lying, Droid. We all see it.

“You know what?” Droid said finally, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just play before chat ruins me even more.” You grinned, your voice soft and teasing. “Okay, Droid. But don’t think I didn’t catch what you said earlier.” “What did I say?” he asked cautiously. “That it’s impossible to ignore me,” you replied sweetly. He groaned, burying his face in his hands as his chat erupted in emojis and laughter. “Chat, I’m muting all of you. And Y/N. And myself.” “Love you too, Droid,” you said, your laugh making his heart race even faster. The match ended in predictable disaster, with Droid going out early thanks to his “totally laser-focused” gameplay. His chat, of course, had a field day with it.

Y/N speaks = Droid dies, confirmed

Bro can’t handle the pressure 😂

Stream MVP: Reader, for singlehandedly destroying Droid’s brain cells

“Alright, chat,” Droid said, his voice tinged with mock annoyance as he leaned back in his chair. “Y’all have been ruthless tonight, so I’m calling it. Thanks for hanging out and, uh, bullying me into oblivion. Appreciate it.” His stream sign-off was met with a flood of laughing emotes and teasing comments, but the chaos finally subsided as the stream ended. Droid sighed, pulling off his headphones and slumping in his chair. But just as he started to relax, your voice broke through the quiet in his headset. “Hey, Droid,” you said casually, still on the Discord call. “You okay? You got kinda quiet there.” His face heated instantly, and he sat up straight, fumbling for words. “Yeah, I’m fine! Totally fine. Just… recovering from chat. They were wild tonight, right?” You chuckled softly. “I think they were just calling it like they saw it.” “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, though his voice cracked slightly. You smirked, your tone turning teasing.

“That you’re a little down bad, maybe?” “I—I’m not—” He groaned, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re as bad as they are.” “Am I, though?” you teased, your grin evident in your voice. “Or am I just honest?” Droid’s mind raced as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t dig him deeper into the hole he was already in. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” “Maybe,” you admitted, laughing softly. “But it’s cute watching you get all flustered.” His breath hitched at your words, and he quickly tried to play it off. “I’m not flustered.” “You sure about that?” you asked, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart skip a beat. “Because you’re stammering a lot.” “I’m fine,” he said quickly, though the way his voice cracked again didn’t exactly help his case. “Totally fine.” There was a beat of silence before you spoke again, this time softer. “Droid?” “Yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “I’m just messing with you, you know that, right?” you said gently.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “You’re not,” he admitted, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “It’s just… you catch me off guard, that’s all.” Your smile softened at his honesty. “In a good way or a bad way?” “In a… good way,” he said, his voice almost shy. “Like, you make it impossible to focus, but I don’t really mind.” Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth spreading through your chest. “Good. Because I think it’s kinda cute.” He let out a soft laugh, the tension finally easing as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” “Maybe,” you teased, your grin returning. “But at least you’ll go out with a smile.” “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice laced with affection. “Yeah, I would.”

[two-white-butterflies]

i can see you | dr3

Description: Secret relationship tension. You both struggle to keep the relationship a secret.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo/red-bull admin!reader

Daniel's arms were wrapped around your torso, carefully leading you towards the secluded station of redbull racing. You've been dating each other for six-months now, and due to his job and your adoration for privacy - you've never really announced your relationship to the public. It's not like they're supposed to care, right?

'Private but not secret' was your motto.

Everyone in redbull racing knew that Daniel was dating somebody - they just didn't know who.

"Can we get some milkshakes before the race?" you inquired, knowing that the both of you were going to spend the entire race watching from a tiny screen. It could get boring. "Yeah, chocolate or strawberry?" he asked, reaching for his phone to call someone.

"Mint," you replied with a smile.

"Are you serious?" he chuckled - showing you a toothy grin smile.

"Yeah," you hummed.

"Did Max really expose our relationship?" you giggled while pressing small kisses to his lips. "Don't worry, he doesn't know who my girlfriend is." he says for certain, hands trailing up to cup your cheeks. "Really?" you raised an eyebrow.

Daniel told Max everything.

You used to joke around that they were the ones dating.

"Yep,"

Daniel dared to kiss you in the open.

His lips were pressed against yours, hands squeezing your ass - while his hat partially covered your face. "Daniel," you whispered, surprised by his sudden bravery. "Y/N," he repeated your name.

He pulled away from your face - hands raising to settle on your waist. "What are you doing?" you chuckled, pecking his lips. The both of you were lucky since it was lunchtime - thus, there weren't any people in the garage. "Kissing you?" he answered.

"How courageous..." you hummed while he pulled your body closer. "Wanna see how far this goes?" he joked - pulling away in time when another personnel enters the garage.

"Daniel?" Christian raised his eyebrows. "We're filming content, sir." you quickly lied - pulling your phone out to pretend to be filming him. "Oh, okay - have fun then." he waved goodbye - not wanting to be part of another tiktok.

Daniel wiped the tears away from your eyes. "Hey, twitter is a shitty place. Twitter is irrelevant, like who even uses it?" he calmed you down - hiding your phone in his pocket before you could read more hate tweets about you. "If someone feels this about us, I feel shitty - Dan." your voice sounded hoarse from the hours of crying.

"That's normal - but it doesn't mean that you'll live based on what anonymous people say." he reasoned, already used to the hate. "I know - but I never wanted our relationship to be exposed this way." you sobbed, burying your face in his chest.

"I agree, but my manager said that this can be our chance to fuck them up. We need to own our narrative."

F1 FANS DISCORD SERVER

kittenwhispers: anyone else find it weird that daniel is dating some 23 year old 😭? - thebossdaddy: it's weird fr WAHAHA

rosesforrose: it's not weird, i think they look good together. daniel's always been childish anyways. (edited)

annieunnie: nah i ship them so badd acck

danielricciardo: Annabelle in theaters near you. 🤣

0 comments 174,393 likes

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[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[thecomfywriter]

How to Write Narration/Dialogue in a Child’s Perspective:

Blog Intro ToV Official Synopsis Buy my book Join the ToV Community! Read ToV Free

Heyyo! Welcome to a new #thecomfywritertoolbox post! This question came up in discord (this is for you, @the-letterbox-archives) so I thought I’d write a post about it, since I haven’t done one of those in a while.

Before we get into it—as you can tell, I have a new blog post setup!!! I’m really happy with how it turned out, since i wanted to organize my posts better without having all the links bombarding the bottom. So yes, check out the links above ☝️

Now, without further ado… On writing children’s voices.

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Age and Developmental Stages:

Children have a very unique perspective in this world, especially since age and time in terms of childhood works completely different to how it works with adults. A two year age gap between a twelve-year-old and a fourteen-year-old can feel monumental due to the development, life stage, and experience each child has. Twelve-year-olds are still newbies in middle school, probably forking around with their friends, going to recess twice a day and needing to ask permission to get something out of their desk (this is based on the Canadian experience lol. Obviously, it differs between countries). Whereas fourteen-year-olds are freshman in high school. TOTALLY DIFFERENT.

so when writing from a child’s perspective, really consider their age as a determining factor.

a kid trying to fit into their new high school and impress their older classmates will talk far more differently than a preschooler, or a middle schooler.

Listen to audios with children of said demographic speaking:

You’ll notice children tend to have a different cadence and pattern of speech. They hesitate on some words, stutter on others, drift off into though mid-sentence, or jump ship and talk about something completely different. The younger they are, the smaller their attention span, and the more filterless they become, because younger children don’t yet have a grasp on social norms, so they’ll tend to speak their mind and ask more questions.

Another thing to consider here, however, is how they were raised. were they raised to be priss and proper, and speak without stuttering? Do they have a speech coach for that?

Questions to consider when addressing the cadence, tone, and patterns of speech of children:

Do they have a lisp that needs addressing?

Do they speak really quickly and forget to take pauses, meaning they have a lot of run on sentences?

Are they emotionally reactive and yell a lot, or switch between moods fairly quickly?

Vocab and grammar!!!

Again, this is highly dependent on the age demographic of your kid, but younger kids are shit at grammar!!! Especially the funky rules of irregular English verbs. It’s harder for a child, who is taught to recognize the conjugation patterns of ‘-ed’ to signal past tense, all of a sudden be told that saying “telled” is wrong. They might make mistakes like that until they are corrected otherwise.

But again, that’s for the younger kids.

Elementary school kids will chipper chapper with their friends and family a lot. They seek to impress most of the time. They’ll get excited over things they know really well and most kids giggle a lot/get excited when it comes to talk about them (some kids have social anxiety and won’t, but instead go quiet). When I worked summer camp, the kids would always try to grab me and smile really bright whenever attention was on them and whatever they wanted to talk about. They made a lot of silly jokes, but acted mighty proud whenever people laughed at them. So they’d repeat the joke louder. Again. And again. And again.

It’s an age of asking approval from adults and peers. But also an age when the idea of authority inspires submission, because they regard those authority figures in a higher esteem. So the way an elementary kid will be boisterous and laugh amongst friends is probably not how they’ll talk to adults. Until that adult earns their trust, they might just shrink into themselves and be as small as possible.

Then you have the defiant age group. The preteens to teenagers. They have their own slang, oftentimes. A way to differentiate those from the “in-group” and those on the “out-group”. if the out-group uses their slang, “Eww… that’s so weird. Why are you talking like that? Look at her, she’s trying to be cool, oh my god. That’s so embarrassing.”

Yeah, this is the age where passive aggressive bullying is strong lmao.

Younger kids trying to be mean will be blunt with it: “Your mom smells like old socks!”

Older kids? Older kids will give you stank eyes, lock gazes with their friends, try to fight off a laugh, and then look back at you all sobered up. There’s more exclusivity at this age, but also a wider range of vocab. That vocab is used creatively, as a means to express oneself in a unique way, or as representative to the group they identify with. So bear that in mind.

And then you have young adults but womp womp this is about kids LMAO.

Perspective:

LASTLY… Consider perspective. How does a child see the world? Bright and colourful? Hopeful? Do they notice the butterflies that flutter across the sky, the ones that adults have gotten used to, so their eyes glaze over? Do they smile at every stranger because their parents taught them to always be kind? Do they spot an ice cream truck down the street and LOCK IN before proceeding to plead their parents for money to go buy some?

What are the things the child values? What are the things that they haven’t wrapped their head around yet? if you’re trying to write in the perspective of a child, these are the things to consider.

Oh yeah. Bonus point. Children gets embarrassed TEN TIMES easier than adults do. Specifically preteens and teenagers. Younger children are a bit more shameless, because again… No concept of social norms. But preteens have started to develop this shame and insecurity and MY GOD it burns.

So TLDR:

Consider age demographic (SPECIFIC AGE)

Consider grammar mistakes and vocabulary limitations

Differences in peer-peer interactions vs adult-child interactions

Consider perspective

Cadence, tone, and speech patterns

Watch videos and observe the way children speak in different contexts

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That’s all folks! Have a mighty bopping Saturday!

Happy Writing!

[kathlare]

just maybe

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Between post-qualifying interviews, teasing from George, and a chance encounter outside the Racing Point garage, emotions simmer beneath the surface as Lando quietly dares to hope for something more than friendship.

Wordcount: 2.4 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

July 11th, 2020 - Spielberg, Austria

The sun beat down on the paddock, bouncing off the concrete and casting long shadows behind the media pen. Sweat beaded under the drivers’ face masks, but they were used to it now—used to the heat, the rush of adrenaline from qualifying, the endless carousel of interviews.

Lando tugged lightly at the neck of his race suit, still zipped halfway, his eyes scanning the makeshift tented area where they were herded post-quali like cattle with microphones.

George stood beside him, arms crossed, rocking back on his heels. They were both waiting to be called up again, already drained from repeating the same answers to different media outlets.

—Fucking hell, I swear if they ask me one more time if I’m happy with P6...— Lando muttered, squinting behind his sunglasses.

—...I’m gonna say, “No, Susan, I’m devastated. I wanted pole. Obviously.”— George snorted, rolling his eyes beneath his mask.

Lando chuckled under his breath, pulling at the wrist of his glove. —They love the drama. Even when there’s none.—

—Speaking of drama...— George said, tone shifting just slightly, like he couldn’t help himself.

Lando side-eyed him. —Oh god. What now? You look like you're about to burst.—

George hesitated for half a second. Then:

—Okay, fuck it, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I literally cannot hold this in. You have to promise not to say anything, alright? Not to her, not to Charles, not to anyone.—

Lando straightened slightly, suspicion creeping in. —What the fuck are you on about, Russell?—

George leaned closer, glancing around before whispering, —Amelie broke up with Joshua.—

Time stopped.

Well—not really. The media pen still buzzed. A cameraman dropped something heavy and cursed. Someone was shouting in Italian behind them. But in Lando’s head, everything slammed to a halt.

—What?— he said, too fast.

George nodded, face already split into a shit-eating grin under his mask. —Yup. Couple days ago. I overheard her talking to Charles about it. I wasn’t even trying to listen, okay? I was just... behind the truck grabbing a water, minding my business.—

—You? Minding your business? Sure.—

George ignored him. —And then I hear her say she ended it with Josh and she didn’t even cry about it. Like, dead serious. Said she thought she should feel worse, but just didn’t.—

Lando blinked, his brain still buffering.

Amelie. Single.

Amelie who used to giggle at her phone screen when Joshua texted. Amelie who once told him—after way too many late-night Discord games—that she thought maybe, possibly, Josh was safe. Whatever the fuck safe meant.

And now? Done.

—She said that?— he asked, voice lower now, throat tight.

George nodded again. —And then she said... well, this part you didn’t hear from me...— he added, even though he was absolutely the one telling him.

Lando didn’t care. —What?—

—She told Charles she thinks maybe she’d stayed with him because she didn’t know how to be alone anymore. And then she joked that at least now she can stop pretending she likes watching football.—

Lando blinked. His stomach was doing some very stupid shit. He could feel it.

George nudged him. —I promised I wasn’t gonna say anything, okay? But fuck. It's Amelie. And you... you like her.—

—George...—Lando warned.

—Don’t “George” me. You do. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Everyone has. You’re like a twelve-year-old with a crush.—

Lando shoved him, but it wasn’t convincing.

Because yeah.

He did.

And now she wasn’t dating anyone. She was... free.

And he had no fucking idea what to do with that.

—You better not tell anyone I told you,— George added, wagging a gloved finger. —I’ll deny everything. Charles will kill me. And Amelie will castrate me emotionally.—

Lando barely registered the warning. His brain was already elsewhere. Replaying all their recent moments—her head on his shoulder after dinner last night, the way her laugh had cracked when he did that stupid accent impression of Carlos, how she’d texted him a picture of her iced coffee with his name spelled wrong on it and said, “thinking of u, loser.”

He always thought he didn’t have a shot. That she was taken, that she was still figuring out how to be okay after everything, especially Cam.

But now?

Now there was a door. A crack of light.

Maybe even hope.

—Lando?— George said, waving a hand in front of his face.

Lando snapped back to reality. —Yeah. Sorry. Just... holy shit.—

George snorted again. —You’re thinking about kissing her right now, aren’t you? You disgusting simp.—

—Fuck off,— Lando muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched up.

Because yeah.

Maybe he was.

And for the first time since this whole pandemic madness started, for the first time since she came crashing into his life in a Discord call with George yelling over Fortnite and Charles lagging like hell—he felt like maybe, maybe, this could turn into something more.

And she wouldn’t have to pretend to like football anymore.

Just him.

Just maybe.

—You’re doomed, mate,— George said with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder.

—Yeah,— Lando replied, finally smiling for real. —But like... in a good way.—

Just then the media handler waved them forward, calling Lando’s name.

He stepped ahead, heart still thudding in his chest, not from qualifying, not from the cameras—no, from three words echoing in his head:

Amelie is single.

Fuck.

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

liked by lanmeliesupremacy, sunshinef1baby, and others

ameliedaymanupdates: Amelie spotted arriving at the paddock in Spielberg today for the Styrian GP!

View all 27,016 comments

dayman.demons: she steps into the paddock and the grid goes silent like it’s church → quadrantchaos: @dayman.demons only thing louder than that silence is Lando’s heart rate

ameliedaydaily: i just KNOW she smelled good walking past those cameras → georgerussellfan69: @ameliedaydaily lavender + rich girl money

sunshinef1baby: lanmelie truthers HOW WE FEELING → mclovingeverything: @sunshinef1baby emotionally unstable but hydrated

alexsbucket: imagine being a driver trying to focus and she shows up looking like THAT

paddockbarbie: no bc she walked in and the grid shifted 😭 → landoiscrying: @paddockbarbie someone check Lando’s pulse IMMEDIATELY

lanmeliesupremacy: why is lando smiling so hard today huh 😏 → mcloverrr: @lanmeliesupremacy he saw her through the garage window and forgot how to breathe

quadgirlie: she’s not even racing and still gets more airtime than half the grid 😭 → maxymaxmax: @quadgirlie give her a seat

lanmelietruthing: WHY is lando smiling more than usual this weekend 🤨 → jetlaggedjosh: @lanmelietruthing bc his lil crush is in austria again don’t play dumb → quadrantchaos: @lanmelietruthing “just friends” my ASS

sunshinewifelando: the way she walks like she owns the track??? → macnferrari: @sunshinewifelando she does. spiritually, emotionally, legally.

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

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the Styrian mountains, casting a warm gold over the Red Bull Ring. The paddock buzzed with the low hum of debriefs wrapping up, cameras being packed away, and exhausted drivers peeling off their race suits in the shade of their motorhomes. Race day was done, but Lando’s nerves still hadn’t settled.

Not because of the race. He’d done alright. P5, solid points. McLaren were happy.

But he hadn’t seen her all day.

He knew she was there—George had confirmed it earlier, smug little shit that he was—but even with all his wandering, the stolen glances down the Racing Point corridor, the excuses to swing by the hospitality areas she liked… nothing.

Not a glimpse. Not even her laugh.

So after the team debrief, when Andreas gave him a nod of dismissal and his engineer clapped him on the shoulder with a “go rest up, mate,” Lando didn’t go back to his driver room. He didn’t go for a shower. He didn’t even take off his sweaty race suit.

He walked straight toward the Racing Point garage.

And there she was.

Sitting at a fold-out table outside the garage, her back to the sun, fingers wrapped around a water bottle. Her hair was up, loose and messy in a way he knew she didn’t mean to look that effortlessly good, but did anyway. Across from her, Stella—Amelie’s older sister—sat cross-legged, sunglasses perched on her nose and the tiniest fluff of golden fur sitting contently in her lap: Stella and Checo’s over-pampered family dog.

They were laughing softly about something. Amelie gestured with one hand, the other stroking the dog's head absentmindedly. Her face was flushed from the heat, freckles out in full force, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Lando’s heart thumped stupidly.

He hesitated for a second—he didn’t want to seem like he’d sought her out (even though, yeah, he absolutely had). But then she looked up, eyes catching on him as if she’d felt him approaching before he’d said a word.

—Hey,— he said, a bit breathless. —Mind if I join?—

Stella looked up and smiled lazily. —Of course not. You’ve earned it. Fifth, right?—

—Yeah,— Lando said, rubbing the back of his neck as he slid into the seat beside Amelie, opposite Stella. —Wasn’t a bad day.—

He could feel Amelie watching him. Not cold, not distant—but a bit unreadable. Her gaze lingered for just a second too long, like she was trying to figure out why he was there, why now.

—Congrats,— she said finally, her voice low and calm, the faintest edge of amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. —Not bad for a baby McLaren.—

He scoffed, grinning despite himself. —Okay, rude. But I’ll take it.—

The dog—whose name Lando could never remember, something Spanish and dramatic—yawned dramatically on Stella’s lap, stretching tiny paws across her denim-clad thighs.

—Luna’s exhausted from all the cheering,— Stella said dryly, scratching behind the pup’s ears. —Had her little Racing Point flag and everything.—

Amelie rolled her eyes. —You mean you carried her around like a spoiled toddler all day.—

—She is a spoiled toddler,— Stella replied with a shrug. —And I love her more than I love most people. Including you. Especially when you make me sit through thirty laps of Checo barely moving up the grid.—

Amelie snorted, taking a sip of water. Lando couldn’t look away. God, he’d missed hearing her laugh.

He leaned back in the chair, letting the sun hit his face, stealing little glances at her from the corner of his eye. She looked tired, but in a soft, sun-drenched way. Like she’d been out all day, like she’d lived the day rather than just passed through it. Her lips were slightly chapped, and there was a faint smudge of mascara under one eye.

He almost said something about it. Almost. But then Stella’s phone buzzed against the table, and she glanced at it, sighing as she stood.

—Ugh. That’s Mum. Forgot to check in after the race. She’s probably convinced we’ve all been kidnapped again.— She turned to Amelie, her voice pointed. —If I’m not back in ten, it means she roped me into a FaceTime and you have to come rescue me.—

—Deal,— Amelie said, lifting her hand in a mock salute.

And just like that, they were alone.

The chatter of the paddock felt far away now, muffled under the fading hum of race day dying down. Lando shifted in his seat, fingers drumming once on the edge of the table.

This was his chance. Maybe.

He should ask something normal. How was her day? Had she seen the overtake on Lap 34? Did she still hate the paddock food?

Instead, he blurted—trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t rehearsed this in his head a dozen times:

—So... how’s Joshua?—

He felt it immediately.

The shift.

Amelie turned her head slowly to look at him, one brow arching, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Her water bottle paused midway to her lips.

—Why are you asking about Joshua?— she said flatly.

Fuck.

Too soon. Too obvious.

Lando cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. —I just... haven’t heard you mention him lately. Thought maybe he didn’t come to Austria with you, or... I don’t know.—

Her gaze didn’t waver. —You hate Joshua.—

—What? I don’t... I mean, I dislike him, but hate’s a strong word.—

—You once said he looked like if a thumb had a personality.—

Lando winced. —Okay, in my defense, that was after he called me “little man” for an entire weekend.—

She didn’t laugh. Not yet. Just stared at him with that same sharp awareness, like she was mentally combing through the conversation and cross-referencing it with everything she’d ever known about him.

—George told you, didn’t he?—

Lando froze.

Shit.

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest now, looking too pleased with herself.

—Fucking George,— she muttered.

Lando raised his hands in surrender. —Okay, yes, but he wasn’t supposed to. He said it by accident. Or, like, by... compulsion. He couldn’t help himself.—

—Mmm-hmm.—

—And I didn’t come over here just to ask you about that.—

She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. —But you did ask.—

He hesitated. Then shrugged. —I guess I wanted to know how you’re doing.—

That, at least, softened her just a little.

She exhaled slowly, her eyes dropping to the table, fingers tracing the condensation ring from her bottle.

—It’s... fine. I’m fine. We broke up. I haven’t cried about it. I didn’t think I’d feel this okay, but I do.—

He watched her. Really watched her.

—You don’t miss him?— he asked, quieter now.

She paused, then looked up. Her voice was steady when she replied:

—No. I think I just got used to the idea of him. Of us. But that’s not the same as being happy.—

Lando nodded, his throat tight. He wanted to say something else—something dumb and reckless, like I could make you happy, or you deserve better. But instead, he smiled, soft and a little lopsided.

—So... does that mean you don’t have to pretend to like football anymore?—

Amelie blinked. Then, to his immense relief, laughed.

—God, thank fuck. You have no idea how long I sat through matches with my eyes glazed over.—

—So when you said Messi was your favorite...— he teased.

—Didn’t even know what team he was on until two months ago.—

Lando laughed too, the sound spilling easily between them now.

The sun had dipped lower, casting a golden halo around her hair, catching the glint of her earrings. She looked at him for a beat longer than she needed to. And this time, it wasn’t unreadable.

It was something else entirely.

Something that made Lando’s pulse trip in his throat.

He didn’t say anything more. Didn’t need to.

But he felt it.

The crack of light.

Still there. Still growing.

And maybe, if he was lucky...

She’d let him walk through it.

[bobthetacocat]

There's a note on the ground...

This is something I wrote for google-drive-submit, the final capstone in the Susie ARG project, posted on my Tumblr by request. It's a collection of a few thoughts that had crossed my mind since the project ended that I wanted to share. This is something I could talk about for a lot longer, so I promise to not take up much of your time.

I think this is obvious, but the vast majority of things discussed in the Susie ARG do not relate to CCC 12 at all. Susie says as much herself.

This naturally brings up the follow-up question: why do this at all? If none of this matters to the canon, why put so much time and effort into it? And I guess that's a question you can realistically ask of all of SiIvaGunner. Rips take time to become as high quality as they are, right? Why do it at all?

The artistic process is kinda mean like that. It's a lot of hard work for something that feels so… ephemeral. Dust that falls through your hands when moved wrong.

Susie had a few things to say about the channel, the overarching canon, and its people. She said almost everything she desired to say… except she left one straggler she didn't wrap up in time. Kind of a shame really, I think it's one of the more important ones. It's hard to say what that piece would've looked like if it was finished, but after consulting with Susie, I'm sure it would've looked something like this:

"My father said to me that that things tend to repeat themselves, given enough time. Sentience creates understanding, and understanding creates symbols, repetition, abstraction into things we can understand. How fitting, I suppose, that there are plenty of quotes like this…

Have you ever thought about where that lighthouse shows up? It's different every time. To SiIvaGunner it's a landmark of his home, to the AI universe it's a connection to the AI mainframe, to all those other little universes it's one thing or another; and of course, to you it's iconography, a picture to be adapted. Endlessly exploitable, as the deftest symbols tend to be.

I can't help but notice these types of things everywhere… somebody says a random phrase here - "intriguing", "nice", "reverb", there's a million examples - and it manages to travel across the universe and back again. A character talks over here, and their idea shows up somewhere else. Mr. Rental exists in one world, and a place is named after him a universe and half a planet away. Ideas conglomerate, and reform, and repeat; and one domino can add onto what anything means if it's the right time. This isn't a unintended side effect of the system, that's just how these things are here, a world of repeating and combining ideas together.

Then again, in the real world - your world - SiIvaGunner himself is a repetition of symbol, no? His better half. And he, in turn, is a repetition of someone else, who probably was inspired by someone else… so I suppose this was inevitable, in a way."

Out of a morbid curiosity, I decided to go back and look at my first reaction to the release of Prologue and Episode 1 of the CCC in 2016, since I'm lucky enough to still be in that Discord server. It was the kind of reaction you would expect from a 13 year old: making jokes, making unrelated jokes, bad jokes, jokes, so on. But don't misunderstand me - I was excited, and I was glued to the screen.

Fast forward, now - it's 2024. I just turned 21. Episode 11 has finally released, and it's a stellar job, genuinely. I'm in the middle of conceptualizing the Susie ARG, a project dedicated to the nuances of this thing that's been a part of my life for so long... and here I am, making the worst joke ever about how Haltmann couldn't just get Susie with a piano from Super Star Symphony. And putting it onto my pitch document! What am I doing?! Am I stutipd??? I feel like the "what would you tell your past self" thought is pretty cliche, but I'm not sure how I would tell my past self that I'm just doing a higher caliber of the same stupid shitposting he was. I think he'd find it funny, though.

SiIvaGunner's lore has never been the most popular thing on the channel. It feels almost condescending to explain the main reason why in detail - SiIvaGunner's main export is high quality rips. People aren't really coming for the story. But I think there is a second reason worth addressing: SiIvaGunner lore is hard to follow. This is also obvious, but I think the reason it started getting hard to follow is more nebulous and interesting. My current reasoning is that the characters stopped having predetermined story arcs and started living lives, if that makes sense.

Wood Man is patient zero of this. His defection from his predetermined box was relatively simple - an offscreen penchant for movie making. This turned Wood Man, an otherwise dumb side character completely fabricated for the sake of his master's bidding, into, like, a guy. Wood Man & Robbie Rotten turned him into a more complex person, with something from him that we hadn't seen before and he hadn't told anybody. He discussed the time dilation, and everything that implies, and how the world's time moves along. Then he got teleported to The Lost Rip, and the whole predetermined box fell apart completely. He escaped being a dumb side character, and got to do his own thing. He started knowing people offscreen, he started filming more movies, having the chance to hang out and be somebody and mature. He started living. Until… well, you know.

Wood Man's whole deal is emblematic of the tricky thing with the wielding of the passage of time in correlation to real life - the longer time has gone on, the more opportunity our side characters in the SiIvaGunner world have had to live their lives outside of the script and break their boxes. Dr. Andonuts spent so much of his time working, being a character behind the scenes, until he was compelled to come into the light. Joke-Explainer probably spent years wandering Grandiose, doing her own thing, living her life, interacting with people; checking in once a couple of years until we caught up with her for channel host. Haltmann had way more time than he would've to become committed to finding his daughter, and Susie had pretty much her entire existence as a Figment to watch from behind the scenes, until… well, you know.

And it's like, how do you condense that? If your 6 year old nephew turned 15 when you weren't looking, how do you compartmentalize the hundreds of off-screen stories in your brain? You don't, right? These type of things reward being around from the beginning, in a story that has broken its predefined end, and with characters that have had the chance to live autonomously. And that's probably bad for some of the newer viewers, but maybe that's better for some of the characters.

By the tail end of the project, I realized I was a lot like Susie. Not in the literal sense, duh, but in the metaphorical, as a watcher of the story with a lot of opinions, who suddenly got to have those opinions known on the grand stage.

Susie started to sound more and more like me as time went on - or maybe I started to sound more and more like Susie? I'm not sure - as the character got situated in her place. I hope that hasn't been too obvious as you've been reading this document, but it probably has.

Susie and I don't agree on everything. We probably disagree on most things, realistically. But here we had one shared goal - to walk forward with this thing we've been watching for so many years.

All we had to do was try and find the right words.

[skyeslittlecorner]

On the other side - Andrealphus

I have no idea who proposed it because sadly I can't find it (found you! Thanks for inspiration @\rae-pss!), but someone came up with an idea of what would happen if the characters from WHB started to realize that the MC was not us. That there is someone on the other side of the screen who takes care of them. I created a little silly fic loosely interpreting it.

Word count: 1284

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Life is so repeatable. Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, only with some little pleasures in between. You took off jacket, threw it away and plopped down at the chair. Old phone landed on a table as you were struggling with thoughts whether to eat instant noodles today or heat up yesterday's dinner.

"Come on, boys." You turn on game and tapped loading screen just from boredroom. "I don't have all evening."

You wanted to have a pet, you've considered it a lot. But with these earnings, the closest thing to an animal in this house were fish sticks. So all that had left to do was talk to fictional hot guys. At least they don't need to be feed.

When Andrea appeared on the display, you tapped on him with a smile.

"Hi, babygirl."

"Who’s there…?"

You've never seen this speech bubble before. Update? But nothing downloaded, and any additional files were in a queue. Well, maybe it was one of those little tweaks nobody notice. You tapped the screen about three hundred more times to see if there were any new voice lines, but this time everything was the same. Maybe it was just a combination of overactive imagination and tiredness. Yes. Instant noodles will be a better option, you will make them faster and go to bed faster.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

"…and then this stupid bitch said it was all my fault." 

Lying half on the chair, half on the desk, and half somewhere in between, you were chatting with a friend on Discord and doing tasks for nightmare pass.

"That sucks. What are you going to do about it?"

"No idea. But if they take my bonus because of her, I'll kill her, I swear."

"I hope everything will be fine, but I have to go. Sorry."

"Yeah… Have fun on a date."

"Thanks!"

Hearing the disconnection sound, you sighed. Obviously, you couldn't blame them, keeping fingers crossed that they had found their other half of orange, but now they didn't even have time to meet for coffee, and you lived three minutes' walk from each other. Talking together, joking together, everything faded into the background. In addition, work was getting worse...

"I also hope everything will work out"

The voice sounded different. Familiar. But they definitely weren't your friend. You quickly checked the screen to see if anyone had joined the voice chat, but the screen was blank.

"What… Who? How?" Of course, there was no one around the room. Is this the beginning of hallucinations?

"I'd like to ask this too."

The voice that came from the speakers. From the telephone. From...?

The phone screen showed only a familiar sprite turning its head from side to side.  You forgot about the strange update from a few days ago. Was that it again? Andrea's red braid was beautifully animated, and facial expressions changed, delicate movements of the eyebrows and lips showed new emotions. It really looked stunningly real.

"Gorgeous." You complimented in a whisper godly work of the animator. "I can't wait until you get L, since you already look so sexy as S..."

"What are S and L...?"

He answered without tapping. Moreover, he tilted his head as if listening. There's been a lot of talk about AI lately, but you didn't agree to use the microphone in game… Unless it's some stinky term of services. This needs to be turned off, it will probably be in the settings. But after checking options, there was nothing like that there.

"Strange…"

"Trust me, I find it unnatural too." Andrea replied with an uncertain smile. "I hear you, but I don't feel anyone around me. But your voice… It’s nice. Can you keep talking? It feels good to be less... alone."

He sounded so much in character. Whoever programmed this, put a lot of work into it. It was a little weird... but you were so tired and done that chatting with the AI seemed like a nice change.

"Sure. It's weird talking to the screen, but well, I do it all the time anyway. Good thing it’s only an AI, because if anyone heard half the nonsense I moan, they'd probably send me to solitary confinement."

"You're calling grown man babygirl."

"Because you are!"

He chuckled, and it felt almost like a talking to an actual human. Muttering such nonsense, you felt ashamed for a moment. If the government suddenly started eavesdropping, the agent who was in charge was such a poor man.

"Tell me something else." He asked. "I've been hearing your voice for several days. I'd like to finally know who I'm having the pleasure of talking with."

He didn't have to ask twice. Of course, without providing any personal details, but you could give him your name. And told about that stupid bitch at work...

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You checked tumblr, checked X, and checked the official website of the game. There was no word about an update anywhere, and after writing that this new option with talking to devils was great, all mutuals started to worry if everything was okay or asked how to unlock it. What were you supposed to tell them? That it just appeared?

What's worse, you started to treat Andrea like an ordinary person. A human being. Turning on the game during cleaning, cooking or making bed, talking to that little devil on the screen, and... listening to his stories. He spoke so beautifully. Talked about how he likes to spend his time (if not murdering angels), or what everyday life in Nilfheim is like. Sometimes he worried about the war, sometimes was happy when you stayed with him longer being off work.

"My blindness is truly a gift." He said one day with a dreamy smile.

"Why so?"

"In this daily hustle, if my eyes were still working properly, I certainly wouldn't be able to hear you, a small voice in my consciousness. I thought there was something wrong with me. But when I finally focused, you heard me too."

What he said was so similar to what you remembered about own feelings. Longing tightened your chest, longing for someone who didn't exist in this world, and that feeling turned into pain.

"I'm also glad we can hear from each other." Your voice changed noticeably. 

Andrea sensed it.

"Now that we've been able to talk, maybe one day we'll be able to touch each other?" He held his hand out in front of him, but you knew he couldn't pass through the screen. Still, you placed a finger where his hand was. Stupid mind was tricking you that you could feel his warmth. Tears came to your eyes.

"One day." You whispered with a trembling voice. "I don't know how, but one day we will."

"Do not cry, please. I don't want you to ever cry because of me.”

You tried to keep calm, but it was no use. Maybe one day, in another time, in another reality. Maybe it will work. No, it has to work. No matter how crazy others might think you were, this wasn't the world you were supposed to stay in. Your intended one waited patiently on the other side of the screen. You just didn't know how to do it. Not yet.

[pancakeke]

hiiiii can I get a court of public opinion to comment on an argument/my current drama issue? long ass post under the cut

I put numbered questions in bullets under screenshots + explanations. you don't gotta respond to all 12 questions but if you could reply with a number and a corresponding answer I'd really appreciate the outside perspective.

background: my friend and I are both autistic. yesterday he used the term "migrant labor" in a way that I interpreted to refer to an individual. my running gag is to call him a capitalist and accuse him of exploiting people at any opportunity cause he's openly a communist and it's funny to mess with him. he makes jokes back to me and neither of us have ever had issue with this. so i said he loves to exploit migrant workers. his response to insist that I didn't understand the concept of the term "migrant". after accusing me of being wrong a lot and a lot of me trying to figure out what he was talking about, he finally explained that he was talking about "migrant labor" as an economic system, even though I was talking about "migrant workers" as individuals. like I even used a different term so i really don't understand his pivot. but I digress.

before he actually explained what he meant by arguing about the term "migrant labor", my repeated questions about what he was trying to correct led to this:

context: he is canadian and I'm american. we frequently joke about how we spell words differently, but also throughout this conversation he brought up different laws, so I didn't know if he put "labor" in quotes as a joke to discredit the source for being american under the reasoning of "fuck what america thinks about any topic" or he was indicating that the link was american and that meant its information wouldn't apply to canadian laws/definitions that he may have been trying to reference.

I requested clarification for this and other things he said but did not receive explanations. he claims the message in the screenshot provided a sufficient answer.

this is the link i sent him on discord. it is very relevant to this post.

Question 1: do the options I came up seem reasonable or do they seem like wild guesses?

Question 2: you think it's possible that both of my assumptions could be wrong?

Question 3: does his response of the word "labor" in quotes bring to mind an obvious explanation that I didn't consider or mention here?

I again said that I didn't know what he meant and asked for more detail.

he has still not explained what he meant by responding "labor" in quotes and insists that it was a sufficient response that provided necessary context for me to understand what he meant by it. now he is focused on telling me that the encyclopedia britannica is an american publication.

Question 4: is it clear that I was aware the encyclopedia britannica is american before he repeated this information?

Question 5: using your own personal knowledge of the encyclopedia britannica and considering the words making up that URL I shared, do you understand why he repeated this information?

Question 6: given the screenshots so far, do you have any reason to believe that an explanation of the nationality of the encyclopedia britannica provides the remaining context needed to clarify what he meant in the first screenshot when he replied "labor" in quotes?

Question 7: understanding that he was actually making this statement to provide additional context to his previous statement, do you believe it was reasonable for me to follow what he was doing here?

note: my messages time stamped 1:00 is related to the information I had been given before he sent that screenshot. it's not a response to the screenshot.

ultimately this was the whole issue: he refused to believe that my link was credible because it used the american english spelling of "labor" rather than the british english spelling which is "labour". he felt that pointing out the spelling was enough information and context for me to draw the same conclusion.

going back to that link I initially sent: ultimately he made an incorrect assumption from the text of the url. i do not know why the url uses american english, but the actual encyclopedia britannica page only uses the british english spelling "labour" (except when citing book titles that use the american english form). despite being fully capable of viewing the page, he refused to click the link on principle and based this entire argument on the basis that his assumption was correct.

Question 8: do you believe he provided adequate explanation before sharing the the wiki?

Question 9: would you say it's an easy to start with the information "the encyclopedia britannica is an american publication" and conclude that "it is published using british english, not american english"?

Question 10: would you consider it a "direct explanation" that he sent the screenshot without saying anything about it in text form?

Question 11: were you personally able to come to the conclusion he expected me to understand using only the first screenshot in this post?

Question 12: was it reasonable for him to insist he knew the contents of the encyclopedia britannica web page based only on its url?

this is not the first time this friend has done something like this to argue despite quoting "Socratic method" all the fucking time.

Bonus Question: how well would you say my friend employed methods of socratic debate in these screenshots?

[gg-mario-tres-askblog]

Hello?

Where... Where am I- What is this?

I just escaped the lab I've been in for years, and I need to adjust society. I heard that tumblr works? Maybe I can stay here....

Oh um, my pronouns are He/Him

OOC: Hi there! Welcome to one of the many Guilty Gear rp blogs. This is just for funsies and anything said here is not really reflective of the Guilty Gear lore.

This is a different blog compared to the Guilty Gear character blogs I run - This is Mario Tres. He's an OC who is one of Zato's clones (@askyato2 is the first clone, Robo Ky's rper runs that blog). I created Mario Tres because I joked that out of all the GG characters, Zato would be the most likely to have a secret sibling or a clone.

Feel free to send images to Mario, or ask him questions. Open to regular users, other Guilty Gear blogs, and ocs. I can't guarantee that I'll respond immediately, but I'll do my best to try and answer everything!

WARNING! Do not send nsfw to this account. There are minors in this space and they do not need to see that or interact with it. Any nsfw asks will be deleted and repeat offenders will be blocked.

If you wish to see more blogs run by this user, please visit

@millia-rage-subhuman-self for the Millia Rage rp account.

@may-anchor-gal for the May Jellyfish pirate rp account.

@goldlewis-uma-reporting for the Goldlewis Dickinson rp account.

@timetravelling-axl-low for the Axl Low rp account.

@answer-tired-business-ninja for the Answer rp account

The main account is @radiantdespairr, but you're more likely to see reblogs there. While said account occasionally partakes in the rps and I prefer to reblog art there, it is the fastest way to reach me in case I miss your ask/response!

This post will be occasionally updated if I decide to run more blogs (right now planning to do ocs for the GG rp scene but there is a chance I might grab another character).

For more information on the Guilty Gear rp blogs and discord, please visit the following link:

[eldragon-x]

been wanting to make a post about my thoughts on bonnie and loops relationship for a bit, i'll just copy a message i wrote abt it on discord once. it repeats some things i already said about siffrin and bonnie but bear with me

my thoughts on loops and bonnies theoretical relationship obviously kinda lean on my thoughts on siffrin and bonnies relationship.

and like, bonnie wouldve been upset and felt guilty about the eye incident regardless, but i can very well picture that before that, they considered siffrin their Favorite AdultTM in the party, between him being the one to spot bonnie while they were on their last legs, siffrin generally being considered cool, mysterious, and capable by the others pre-loops, bonnie sharing a kinda mean/teasing sense of humor with siffrin and odile, id5 suggesting bonnie could have a puppy crush on siffrin, ect.

so when siffrin lost their eye bonnies guilt about it swung back hard and they take siffrins teasing in the worst way, try to distract from them laughing at his jokes sometimes by calling him stupid or exaggerating how much they hate his jokes and so on

i think bonnie would have mixed feelings on loop because theyre even Meaner than they percieved siffrin to be, but they're also nicer to bonnie than anyone else. which they would take as patronizing if it wasnt for the fact that loop allows them more things than the other party members, similarly to the role siffrin had in their life. they arent exactly cool seeing as they have a nervous attitude around the party, but they still have an intruiging mystery to them and they can be funny.

so basically its like, loop kinda takes up the role of the Cool AdultTM from bonnies pov that siffrin previously had. which he still has except bonnie has now seen siffrin vulnerable + theres baggage to their relationship so its different because loop doesnt seem like as much like a wet cat as siffrin and also theres no baggage between them and bonnie 👍 dont. dont worry about their reaction when they find out loop is a doomed alternate version of siffrin who ended up like that because they never talked to the party and suffered for years and years

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Hello, you seem like a very knowledgable person when it comes to shoot from the hip!! Could you please explain the shark friend and squid boi jokes? Im incredibly new in the fandom and im so confused haha

HELLO HI OF COURSE I CAN TELL YOU :D

Shark friend:

during a warm up video on their tiktok AJ panics and says “shark friend” when he can’t think of anything and keeps repeating it and then in another warm up video from the same show probably taken right after it he does it again as a joke and it just became a thing!

Their patreon used to have two levels, one was cheaper (only about half of the current cost) and they called it the “Shark Friend” level- but so many more people bought what was known as the “Fellow Mr Wompa” level. Shark Friend really just means a fan of sfth now though it could also mean that you’re on the discord (if you aren’t on the discord and would like to be I can give you the link, just let me know :))

Fellow Mr Wompa was Sam misspeaking and instead of saying “Fellow Oompa Loompa” said “Fellow Mr Wompa” (as Wompa sounds like “Wonka”) Fellow Mr Wompa means that you are a patreon of sfth

Squidboi:

Tom is the Squidboi. He is squid. This is just a thing that happened because on a Covid livestream he put his arms up in his hoodie and waved the sleeves around with the hood up and said “look I’m a squid! :D” and has done it a few times since then. Tom loves and welcomes the nickname. People tend to call him it when he does his classic Tom Contortions(tm) lol. (Him bending weird and moving around in a weird way, I don’t know how to describe it but you see it when he’s playing the spirit of somerset in beetroots and murder and when he gives his “MY BODY IS A TEMPLE. AN ENGINE OF WAR!” monologue (from memory)

I hope this helps!! If you ever have any more sfth related questions or anything I am always down to talk about it!!!! (And if this doesn’t make sense let me know and I’ll try and explain again. And if you want clips of anything I’ve mentioned here just let me know!) :)

[honeyconez]

Chat how crazy would it be if I said I make a joke with one of my friends about something on discord and he said "pregnant engineer" and then we had this on-going joke where we just said "who got engineer pregnant" and then i texted him during lunch saying "who got engineer pregnant" and then i said "soldier HUHHHHHWHATTTWHOSAIDTHATMUSTVEBEENTHEWIND" and he was like "yeah if the wind was Scout" but basically i kept repeating "soldier got engineer pregnant" and I'm tortureing him with that now (he's chill abt it)

😭😭😭😭😭 I started tweaking after reading this

what if instead of helmet party it was called freaky party and instead of engineer and soldier it was freakineer and freakdier 😰😰😨😥😨😥😨😥😱😱😱😥😨🫣🫣👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅

[virginpornstar]

When A Man Tells You He Isn't Ready...Believe Him

Looks like Ares and I are over for good.

We had just gotten over our first major hurdle, after some discord arose after I took offense to something he said. Then it happened again, and Ares handled the situation horribly.

I feel like when Ares had an issue with something I said I immediately apologized, tried to rectify the issue, and not repeat the same mistake. When I addressed with Ares something he said bothered me then he chose to dismiss and invalidate my feelings, while also being distant.

Then I called him, we talked things out, and it seemed like were back on track. Until the next day it happened again. Clearly Ares and I are out of the honeymoon phase since now we're already arguing too much. Though I feel like most of our issues have been from misinterpreted text messages, that could've easily been cleared up if we just spoke to each other and tried to clear up the issue. Instead the issue just gets bigger due to Ares' immaturity in handling conflict.

The day after we got over our previous drama we went back to normal. Good morning texts, playing iPhone games, normal conversation.

Ares sent me a screenshot of some fat ugly gay guy I've seen online before, and then made a joke saying that the guy is my ex and hit up Ares about me.

This annoyed me. Since the previous night after resolving our conflict, Ares said what set him off his some of the mean and insensitive comments that I have made. Usually about poz or trans people, since Ares has a history of fucking both.

Ares has reservations about dating me since my mouth can be reckless, and he sees my Scorpio stinger is capable of stinging him as well. I've made comments triggering some of his past insecurities, and I'm guilty of trying to push the limits. Granted I don't feel like I've made comments more offensive than anything he's said to me.

The issue is I don't know where the line is, since I can make a joke about Ares dead mama that's hilarious to him, but if I make a joke about his ex falsely accusing him of cheating that's an issue. We can be brutally shady with each other, but then one random line will set the other off. The line that sets things off the rails isn't even the most offensive thing said.

So I was annoyed he doesn't like me making hurtful comments about trans or poz people, yet he can make hurtful comments towards me basically implying that since I like fat guys that I'd fuck any fat guy and have no standards. I don't like that or find that funny. Especially the day after we just had drama and a resolution.

I'm not going to try to be less insensitive to protect his feelings, when he's doing insensitive shit to me. He wouldn't like it if I sent him a pic of Shemar, called him his ex since he's crippled, and his ex had some impairment that he struggled walking, and made fun of him.

Which I did send him a pic of Shemar, saying this is his ex, he needs help getting carried down the stairs since there is a fire, (which did happen to Ares with his older crippled ex when their old apartment caught fire and the ex was holding up the evacuation line due to his bunions or something).

I'm sure Ares was extra pissed that I did "threw his past in his face" which is what upset him when I made a joke about saying "no wonder your ex thought you were cheating" after Ares told me he was at the gym for 4 hours. 4 hours is crazy...and my workouts are normally 2.5 hours.

Ares hasn't responded to me since. He basically made me tell him what was bothering me since clearly something was. I didn't properly address the sending me some random ugly fat guy and implying I'd fuck with him was offensive to me. So I'm guilty of not being direct, and I responded saying that I was guilty of making fun of my ex's past taste in men before me since I was disgusted they were fat, ugly, poz, trailer trash, etc...

Ares found it random that I said I wanted to work on not being so judgemental of who I'm dating's past, even though he mentioned not liking someone of my comments about making fun of him being a tranny chaser. Yet he makes fun of me being a chubby chaser.

Things just got volatile too fast with us. Which is another sign of why every horoscope warned me Aries and Scorpio aren't compatible. It's a power struggle, and a war for who is more dominant.

Granted I never intended to hurt Ares. I like him, and I like him more than I want to be in control of him. I do feel at fault since he did repeatedly warn me he's not ready for a relationship, and the way he's reacted whenever I've addressed anything with him proves that.

He's older than me and been in more relationships, but that just means he's had more failed relationships. Clearly he has immaturity issues, and I see why his past relationships failed. Fire signs can't ever take accountability, and I feel like he's a huge hypocrite for saying I'm insensitive and wanting me to be more empathetic, yet he'll say fucked up shit to me and not want me to respond at the same level.

I'm a Scorpio...I'll get gutter. You go low, and I'll always find a way to go lower. Which isn't a good quality for a relationship, but also don't make jokes at someone's expense that you can't handle being made at your expense.

Ares really disappointed me and showed me that he's immature. He doesn't care about conflict resolution. He runs away, ignores me, dismisses my feelings, and doesn't even try to not make the situation worse if there's an issue. None of which are acceptable in a relationship.

I didn't want to fight or argue with him. I just want to feel listened to and understood if I say something he said bothered me. Like I did for him when he said something I said bothered him. Though he admitted when we did talk that he did hold in some things I said offended him, which was why he was quick to react negatively since there was some hidden resentment.

I hate being ignored more than anything. Which is why I feel like Ares and I are really done. I'm done feeling "desperate" or like I'm "begging" him. If he's clearly choosing to ignore me instead of talk things out, try to understand my feelings, or trying to resolve things, then he's not the man for me. He told me he's not ready for a relationship, and his actions prove it.

I also was triggered when he sent me a voice note after the first issue claiming that he was done, yet when I called him he wasn't done. That is reminiscent of my ex getting mad, storming off, and breaking up every time he was upset in my first relationship. I can't deal with the toxic breakup/makeup cycle. I don't joke around with ending things, or mention it unless I'm going to do it. Since when you make it clear to me that walking away is an option, then I'm not going to be as invested as before.

I hate things ended this way. I really like Ares. I liked him more than any guy I've met in the past few years. I miss talking to him all day every day. I miss our good morning/good night messages. I miss our Facetimes, video messages, and audio messages. I miss our random conversations about any and everything, opening up to each other, and sharing stories of our past.

Ares calling me desperate was triggering to me, since I do desperately want a boyfriend again. I miss having love in my life, and I'm over random hookups, bathhouses, one night stands, dating apps, bad first dates, etc...

I want to be boo'd up. Watching new shows together, trying new restaurants, going on cute dates, exploring the city, wearing matching outfits, traveling together, consistent sex, intimacy, and passion. I want kisses, cuddles, hand holding, taking pics together, meeting each other's loved ones, etc...

I desperately wanted Ares to be my next boyfriend. I've not connected with anyone at the level I connected with him since my previous boyfriend. Unfortunately, Ares wasn't the one. So it's back to ground zero. More unfulfilling dates and hookups. More one night stands and meaningless sex. More disappointment from flakes, frauds, and fags I don't want.

Better to be single than with someone who runs at the first sign of trouble, but still heartbreaking to realize that a month of feelings for a man has amounted to nothing.

[candor-creator]

SO.

a few months back me and a couple friends would alternate streaming Hollow Knight to each other: one blind, one knowledgeable (me), and one heavily modded to be easier.

Now, during these streams I would, of course, gush about whatever I could that was spoiler-free, and because he is my favorite, I often talked about the Pale King. Whenever I could. Always.

One of the major character details I love to point out when discussing him is all the various contraptions around Hallownest. They're all SO unnecessary and complicated they look and feel like redstone machines in minecraft they're just so Extra.

Why did the King invent a fucking foldable bench. Why not?

He just likes Mechanisms. Machines. various Contraptions. Doohickeys and Thingamabobs. He didn't need to pop off like that but the kingdom is littered with small, complicated machines that do not need to be as complicated as they are. Don't get me started on the fact that Wingsmoulds beep.

So one day I missed a stream from the modded friend, the once-blind now-experienced friend the only one watching. And to make me feel included, he and it both wrote down a handful of funny lines from the stream.

One of which stood out to me and would irreparably change my vocabulary.

The Pale King Fucking Loves Devices!

this quickly became an inside joke and also something i would constantly repeat to my brother whenever we discussed my longrunning fic and pk's place in it. This Device Lover is my special guy.

The other day though, I was joking around about the fact that Hallownest Vocalized is a thing. And I said that if I ever met James Dijit, Voice of PK in the mod, I would request a handful of little lines from him, the last of which was, of course, "I fucking love devices."

And then I realized the only thing actually stopping me was myself. I mean. I have money. I have his contact since I'm in the discord server. I could ask him to say stuff and offer to pay him if he didn't want to.

So anyways I asked him and I now have the best audio files on the planet.

"can we hear the-" NO. later.

i'm gonna fuckin animate it.