#(they don't have a common name that i'm aware of)

[goldengamer2500]

My theme would probably be the 3AM theme from Animal Crossing New Horizons. It's confusing but silly.

I mean I only realized that I might be trans slightly under a year ago by now, but honestly it wasn't much of a shock, it just... made sense.

I don't have that many "oh my god, I did/said this thing and I didn't think I was trans?!" since even as a child I was at least aware of the existence of trans people but I at the time I just didn't see it as something that was worth seeking out because "Well, I don't really feel like a man and I'm not interested in feeling like a man, but I also don't feel like a woman already so I cant be trans" (apparently that kind of circular logic is pretty common among unhatched eggs...)

To be honest I don't even know what clicked, I didn't go through anything traumatic, I didn't have a sudden epiphany, it just happened one day, probably while I was watching Onimai or something (which like, totally cis thing to immediately seek out and binge after hearing the name ONCE) and even then it was like "Wait, cis people don't think that it'd be fun to be the opposite gender? What do you mean most of them haven't even considered it or completely reject that possibility? I guess that makes sense... wait, does that mean I'm not cis?" and everything else just started coming naturally from there.

I still have my doubts every now and then and I still haven't come out of the closet but I've given my family (particularly my brother) so many hints that I'd be surprised if they didn't at least suspect it, so for now I'm just waiting for a good moment to bring it up.

It's not like i can do much else anyways since I'm a broke college student that still lives with their parents... knowing my parents I doubt that they would try to kick me out or something if i told them but I don't think that they'd be completely supportive either... and even if they were supportive I doubt we'd be able to afford HRT with our current financial situation so for now I'm just... existing, being openly trans on the internet and overtly trans in real life.

Hence the music. It's just, there, vibing in its own silly way.

Source

[onenicebugperday]

@darth-moth submitted: Hello, I try not to be affraid of spiders, insects, bugs, etc. so I want to know what species is he from

And I am also curious of what thier is exact names

All photos were taken in [removed] ([removed], remove this please). And thank you.

Hi there! I'm glad you're trying not to be afraid of bugs! I can't promise exact species IDs since I'm not super familiar with the bugs in your location but I'll do my best.

I assume the first two photos are the same spider; looks like a ground spider in the genus Scotophaeus, most likely a mouse spider, Scotophaeus blackwalli.

The moth looks like a pyralid moth, Synaphe moldavica. The next beetle is a scarab beetle, probably in the genus Anisoplia. The beetle after that is a weevil, Pseudocleonus cinereus.

Dunno offhand on the next little moth, but the beetle on the flower in photo 7 is a yellow-legged thick-legged flower beetle, Oedemera flavipes. Yes, that's the real common name. Not sure why they needed to put "legged" in there twice. The two moths following that are geometer moths, but they're not distinct enough for me to say offhand which species they are. And finally the last beetle looks like a blister beetle, Mylabris crocata.

Thanks for sharing!

[inklingofadream]

So, having given up on the book that was vexing me a couple days ago I'm now reading Unmask Alice and it's killing meeeee

Things I knew: Go Ask Alice is not a real diary; subsequent anonymous diaries were also super fake; it's not even an especially good fake if you are not a suburban parent in the 70s who has never encountered The Drugs; there was some deeply hinky stuff going on with the author's subsequent fake diaries

Things I didn't know: Beatrice Sparks was Mormon. She grew up in Logan. She lived in Provo at the time she wrote the diaries

This book literally opens with "I know we're all used to being able to look up what we're doing to find out where it's going but I think you'll have a better time if you don't."

I have not obeyed this directive. I know this guy doesn't have the information I need. He isn't going to bother to tell me the name of the restaurant in Logan she worked at as a teen. He isn't going to tell me where in Provo her house was. He won't bother with whether her and her husband were eventually sealed in the temple in their lifetime, or if they were just kinda passively next to the church but not doing much about it

I went on familysearch trying to find this information. I went DEEP. I also FAILED. but. all attempts to search HER got me a 404 error. Searching her mother and getting to her page via the family tab DID work. which is all very suspicious to me...

[neverendingford]

.

[echotunes]

Doces ou travessuras- chewydolls

so it's not technically the season for Lebkuchen yet because it isn't Christmas time yet but it's close enough so you get Lebkuchen!

Lebkuchen is similar to gingerbread I think? and in this case they're covered in chocolate. and in iconic heart or star or pretzel shape (side note I dislike the English word pretzel. das ist ne Breze why is there a p there. Brezel is already on thin ice). they go well with punch (or Glühwein ig but I prefer the non-alcoholic version) and I'm looking forward to having them again in Advent :)

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[oreganocactus]

i don't participate in any sort of svsss fandom stuff so my apologies if this has been said already but a HUGE part of the humor of that book comes from how it parodies typical isekai harem tropes and not just in the way you might think. there's the typical "wow so cheaply derived porn trope" humor but part of the humor is also in that despite LBH being the original protag, the book SVSSS itself features SQQ as the protagonist.....

ppl like to joke about SQQ's "harem" but the humor of the harem isn't just in that he has one at all (when normally that would be LBH's role), it's how every "member" of that harem fulfills a typical isekai harem role in an inverted way!!!!!!

most obvious example is LBH. he's an inversion in that he's originally intended to be an all-powerful demon king who's a housewife in SVSSS, but (imo) the humor in his "role" is that he's supposed to fulfill the trope of the young abused battle-hardened "demon" girl who longs for peace and housewifery and latches onto the older man who showed him kindness -- except instead of being a moe anime girl, he's an all-powerful protagonist-style power insert hero. so, not so much an inversion of "this demon king is actually a housewife??" and moreso "this housewife is actually a male demon king" (which might not sound like much of a difference at all, but it's moreso about how the MEN fulfill harem girl tropes and not the other way around.)

another example is YGY - set up as a "big brother" figure and clearly has history with SQQ. he's meant to fulfill the trope of the clingy "older sister" childhood friend who promises marriage to the protagonist and has clear history w/him but is insecure about his role because he's not as "appealing" as the other options. his humor as a "romance option" comes from 1. him being a man (you might notice this is the case for a lot of these LOL) and 2. actually, in fact, being immensely powerful - it's another inversion of the trope of the physically weak "starter" harem girl who agonizes over being unable to do more for her beloved childhood friend in their journey.

my favorite example: LQG is the most obvious "tsundere tomboy" trope ever. physically powerful, out of touch with her emotions, gets flustered and aggressive with her crush, focuses on getting stronger above all else yet somehow extraordinarily beautiful -- all of these are extremely obvious tropes assigned to this "tsundere tomboy" trope, with the humor lying in the contrast of LQG actually being a man. the succubus extra is hilarious not just because of the awkward situation and their reactions, but because it's an EXACT setup of an extremely common scene in isekai harem novels. the cold tsundere beauty gets affected by succubi, doesn't know what to do, goes to the protagonist for help - it's the exact kind of situation that would have the protagonist pushing her down and saying lines like "you shouldn't act like this - i'm a man too, don't you know?" and making her aware that she's a woman and "in danger" around him. it's funny because LQG is very much a man, and indeed SVSSS parodies this directly by having SQQ tell LQG that he's a man too, he'll understand if he needs to jerk off! no worries!

even ZZL falls into the trope of the typical beast-kin girl who's saved by the protagonist and falls into his harem, subverted by his loyalty to someone ELSE besides SQQ and nonchalance as he does it.

it's the main draw of the humor of the novel for me and i surprisingly feel like not enough people talk about just how much SVSSS really leans into being a parody of a harem-collecting isekai....

and if you're curious about my credentials for making this post: if you name a shitty isekai novel, i've almost definitely already read it all. i read too many midsekais. it's like an addiction.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Vow 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!August Walker

Summary: your father's murder leaves you in the hands of a dangerous man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"This is how we stay safe," your mother tugs the laces so your lurch. 

Your eyes widen at your reflection. The gown is tight yet too big. The bodice pinches as your mother yanks and yanks. The skirt is full and fluffy. Layers and layers of tulle.  

You can't breathe but you don't think its the boning. You touch the front of the gown, feeling the delicate embroidery, and shudder as you exhale. Strange how days before you wore black and cried, now you're in white in what many deem the happiest day if your life. 

"Hasn't he taken enough--" 

"Shh!" She whips her finger up. "He can always take more. Your father didn't think so but he can, god rest. There's always something to lose." 

"Mom," you croak. You've never seen her afraid. She's always been pompous, always unfazed, but now her eyes are like sparklers, flickering and frantic. "I'm scared." 

"Be scared but be obedient. And smile," she moves around you and frames your face, "smile. Please. He can always change his mind. Don't let him. If he does, we are lost." 

"How do you know? Daddy's gone. We can leave--" 

"The vultures are waiting," she snarls. "Don't you understand? It's only the wolf that keeps them at bay." 

"Why... why would he want me? If daddy--" 

"Hush, I won't tell you again. Do not speak of your father. Especially in front of him." She dabs your lip with her thumb as she fixes your make up, "from this day forth, he is the only man in your life. Understand?" 

You pout. That night comes back. The echoing bang the woke you, your mother's scream, and the barrels that pointed through your doorway. Quick, clean, horrifying. As if your father never was. 

"Yes." 

"You better. You know this man is cruel. Do you want to test him?" 

You shake your head and she lets you go. You back away and heave. You won't mess up the hours of work put into your hair and face. If you look in the mirror again, you will. 

You stare at your skirts as your mother pins the veil on your head. She pulls on it, arranging it around you. It drapes almost to your feet. 

A knock at the door. She goes to it. Whispers. The door stays open. Your mother calls your name. Your soles stick before you can make yourself move. 

As you get to her, your mother takes you by your wrist. You feel her warmth through the lacy gloves. She guides you behind a party of women. Some you recognise, some you don't. Their makeup is thickly caked on and their hair teased. 

"Look up," your mother snaps under her breath and lets you go. "You will not shame your family by hiding." 

You raise your head. Your head is light and bobbly. You march down the hallway behind the train of solemn women. 

You’ve never met the man who killed your father. The very same you are about to face. The one you are to marry. It’s the sort of irony that hurts. 

You’re stopped as the other women keep going. They leave you, one by one, until it is only your mother. She gives your hand a final squeeze and goes. You wait alone, uncertain. 

The music changes and you flinch. You know you have to go but you don’t want to. You don’t want to die either. And you don’t want to lose your mom. She’s all you have left. 

You can picture the house. Ransacked, bullet-riddled, crowded with strange men. You push away the memories and step forward. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. That’s what this life will be. Do what has to be done, not what you want. 

You enter the large hall. Peaked ceilings, music echoing off the walls, full pews, and a man waiting. You look ahead to the figure at the altar. Two, but the shorter one fades into the background. The priest is a blue as your eyes fixate on the man in the white suit. 

As you get closer, his features come into focus. Dark curls, a shadow of a beard and a thick line of hair over his lip. The cleft in his chin adds to the chisel of his jaw and he’s tall. Very tall and broad. His blue eyes meet yours. 

You trip as you try to step up beside him. He’s quick to catch you. His grip is iron on your arm. He helps you up and stands you across from his. Your eyes cling to him. You can’t look away. You’re terrified. He can’t look away from you either. 

You stand facing each other; you trapped him shock, him in triumph. This day is the first day of the rest of your life. The end of the empire and the birth of another. A vow to seal your fate and those of all watching. 

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

[ms-demeanor]

So I've been seeing some discourse around the No Fly List leak that looks a bit like "hey everybody, we can't make jokes about this, the list is racist and there are children on the list" or "if you're talking about identity categories instead of the list you're missing the point" and I think that we CAN make jokes about a trans bi lesbian catgirl owning the US government while also appreciating the gravity of the No Fly List but what I think is troubling to me is the way that these discourse posts are treating the blatant racism and inherently fascist nature of the No Fly List as news.

It is news that Maia Arson Crimew was able to download a copy of the No Fly List from an unsecured public server.

It is not news that there are 1.5 million people on that list, many of whom do not belong on it for any number of reasons, and it is not news that there are children on that list, and it is not news that the list is a tool used to deprive people of their civil liberties. That's why the list exists.

I'm aware that I'm getting older. I'm aware that there are entire adults of legal drinking age who were born after 9/11. I'm aware that it's not super common to follow up on foreign policy or national security debacles from when you were in kindergarten, but there are people who have been mad about this shit for twenty years and if you're just now hearing about how bad the list is for the first time, hell, maybe that's on us and we haven't been yelling enough (though when I'm yelling about how the TSA is security theater meant to make us accept encroachments on our rights, this is at least a part of what I'm yelling about).

The No Fly List is a list of individuals maintained by the TSA who are deemed a threat to security for some reason or another.

The TSA maintains the list, though they are given information for the list from the FBI, Terrorism Screening Center, and other entities. If you'd like to click this document, you can find 250 pages of FOIA'd documents about the No Fly List pre 2006. Much of this document is members of the FBI trying to justify why they need a copy of the list and lamenting that airlines have a copy of the list and they don't. This is very funny.

There have been issues with mis-identifications and false positives for the list for as long as the list has existed. You can click here to read through an infuriating 200 pages about a Pfizer employee who was stopped at least a dozen times at airports and who retained a law firm to hound the TSA/CBP/ICE clusterfuck of interagency buck-passing for nine months to try to get the problem resolved. One of the three documents at this link includes a complaint from the president of the Terrorist Screening Center lamenting the way that the TSA would refer obvious non-matches to be detained, including infants and the elderly.

At this point, the FBI/TSA/TSC/ICE/CBP claimed list was still relatively small, in the low thousands at most.

However a 2009 cost-benefit report by the Defense Technical Information Center found that in 2004-2005 30,000 people contacted the TSA to have their names removed from the list; 30k false positives suggests a list somewhat longer than a thousand names.

As long as the No Fly List has existed, criteria for being placed on the list has been subjective and selectively enforced.

As the Crimew leak shows, there isn't a tremendous amount of biographical data, but there are hundreds of thousands of names and it is enforced at the discretion of the TSA in each individual airport in the US, which is how you end up with duplicates and toddlers and 100-year-old men on what is functionally a filter to keep Muslim people out of the US.

The list has expanded every year that it has existed, and has been defended by republicans and democrats alike since it became one of the tools in our arsenal to fight "the war on terror"

And for just about that long, people have been talking about how it is unconstitutional, denies civil liberties, and also just doesn't really work.

It has never been transparent, it has always been a tool of surveillance, exclusion, and control:

And people have been documenting, protesting, and suing over the islamophobic nature of the list - and the security state's weaponization of the list as a threat - for two decades at this point because in the earliest days of the No Fly List it was OPENLY ACKNOWLEDGED that it was based on racial profiling and people made (shitty, cruel) legal arguments for why it should be:

THIS isn't funny. These are not the things that people are joking about when they choose to stay silly :3 in this conversation.

But these things also aren't news. Nearly everything I screencapped here was listed as a source on Wikipedia, and what wasn't was available as simple searches on Archive.Org or easily looked up on news websites.

All you have to do is just *look* at the sources on Wikipedia to see that people actually have been talking about it for quite a long time, very publicly, and that there has been a lot of public outcry about the list as it balloons and punishes innocent people with false positives:

And when you've been looking at stories like these for twenty fucking years it feels wonderful to say "holy fucking bingle" and celebrate that for once someone did something VERY COOL in order to shine a light on this massive (and apparently underappreciated problem).

[mewtwoandme]

I was hoping this would all blow over, but since it's continuing to happen, now with people attacking other artists of the commewnity. I'm putting out my two fucking cents! Cause this whole art/character theft and pointing fingers, who stole what from who bullshit it driving me up the fucking wall!!

Long story short, it started with me and one other blog whose name I won't mention publicly. Despite the horrible light they tried to paint me in, I don't want anyone going to this person and ganging up on them. This person had some serious bitterness towards more "popular" artists and claimed that I've made characters similar to theirs and once used a pose they apparently used before (which was a very common pose, considering it was a reference from the game version of mega Y). Since then, they had desperately tried to conjure up evidence, narrowing down to the most miniscule detail how I've been stealing from them when I hadn't even known their blog existed until I was forcefully thrown into that unnecessary drama with the unhinged call-out posts they've made. With this being said, I'd like to point out that they never came to me or addressed this concern with me in the first place. They had every opportunity to privately DM me if they had suspected I was "stealing," but no, simply because they already made up their mind that I was a thief, that was a good enough reason to lack common fucking sense and decency, making what should have been a private issue public, going on to villainize and dehumanize me. And apparently, it hasn't stopped with me either, cause recently I've been seeing other artists in the community having to deal with this where people are being white knights on high horses, pointing fingers on how one artist's mewtwo looks "the same" if not "totally identical" as another artist's mewtwo. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. But what makes me disgusted is that since TC's post, apparently it's had the opposite effect on some people and they're hopping on this blame bandwagon like it's some damn media trend!!!

This is NOT okay! Nothing about this kind of behavior is funny! It's upsetting to all of us. We dont need you causing problems where there isn't any, thinking you're doing us a favor! The majority of us are adults for gods sake! We are old enough where we don't need other people coming to us being tattle tails saying this person did this and that. That's what little children do! If you suspect any form of theft, I think I speak for ALL creators in this commewnity that we'd prefer you DM us privately saying something like "Hey, I think this person is copying you, might wanna look into it." And if possible, provide a link to the art in question, for which we would kindly thank you for making us aware and we'll handle it ourselves from there. Just a brief, yet SIMPLE interaction...that's all we ask!!! Don't even come at me with "Well, it's scary attempting to talk to an artist that's well known." Or dare I say ~pOpUlAr~ If you claim that taking the first step to send me a quick DM makes you nervous, yet you have no problem making public call outs in posts or asks, belittling and degrading what could actually be innocent artists doing nothing wrong, literally leaving yourself open to all kinds of comments and opinions from all kinds of people....I'm sorry but your anxiety isn't as bad as you say it is then, if being rude and ignorant in a public post/ask is easier for you. If you come to us, shaming someone else who 9/10 probably isn't doing anything wrong, thinking you'll be in our good graces for doing so, sorry, you're not going to be told, "Good job!" with a pat on the back and given a lollipop! You're just being an asshole.

Quick reality check for everyone who's made it this far before I end this train wreck of a rant:

People can have similar ideas that coincide with one another! There's only so much you can do when a whole community is focused around drawing the same character! We mainly draw mewtwos and mews, you're bound to find a plethora of similar colors, patterns, and designs because of it! Creativity only goes so far when trying to stay true to a character and not stray too far. It's not a crime to take inspiration from other artists' characters, we actually encourage this! It makes us feel good that you liked something we've done and you want to incorporate it into your own designs! It makes us happy that we inspired you! The line is crossed when someone does a literal copy/paste of a character down to the exact detail, and they call it their own original creation. That my friends is what stealing actually is!

[kunaigirl]

Happy Disability Pride and awareness month! Let's talk about Epilepsy!

Hi there! I got tired of seeing my condition (that impacts my literal every day life) being left out or forgotten about during discussions about disabilities, so I made my own post about it! Let's go!

First Off! What the heck is epilepsy? Epilepsy is the fourth most common neurological disorder in the world, and it's a chronic medical condition. Epilepsy is a brain disorder that causes recurring, frequent, triggered, and unprovoked seizures to occur.

The official Epilepsy Foundation describes seizures as follows: "Seizures are sudden surges of abnormal and excessive electrical activity in your brain, and can affect how you appear or act. Where and how the seizure presents itself can have profound effects...Seizures involve sudden, temporary, bursts of electrical activity in the brain that change or disrupt the way messages are sent between brain cells. These electrical bursts can cause involuntary changes in body movement or function, sensation, behavior or awareness." (Source link)

Sounds like a lot of fun right? This is our life. Even with medication, we can be VERY limited to what can be safe for us. Seizure medications are NOT a cure, they only exist (at least as of now) as a tool to help have your seizures less often, or be triggered less intensely. Even on medication, seizures can still happen.

If you have epilepsy as a child like I did, it impacts your entire growing and developing experience. I spent MANY times as a child in and out of hospitals, neurologist and specialist offices, an getting so many EEG tests done. The pain of scrubbing the glue out of your hair for DAYS is horrible.

At a young age my seizures were so frequent and serious, it impacted my brain's ability to retain information. I had to re-learn the names of things at age 8 and 9. I had to re-learn HOW TO READ at age 10. I had to be home schooled because the public school system of my state at the time refused to work with me. I have VERY distinct and vivid memories of crying over my little baby ABC's book that I needed as a 4th and 5th grader. I knew I should've known this by this age. I knew that at one point I already did, and it was TAKEN FROM ME.

As an adult, I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE A CAR. And I can NEVER go to see a movie in theaters or go to see concerts or live music. There are entire TV shows I don't get to see. I can't go to clubs, arcades, dances, or raves. I miss out on A LOT of fun things. I always do, and I'm WELL AWARE of the fun I'm missing out on. The social, casual, and fun life experiences I'll never get to have. That WE'LL never get to have. And oh yeah! Seizures can KILL SOME OF US. Yep.

And the list goes on, and every person with epilepsy experiences it differently. There are multiple different types of seizures you can have, they're NOT always convulsing on the floor. For example, I have complex-partial-myoclonic-seizures. Meaning my muscles DO twitch when I have seizures, but I'm not always completely unconscious and sometimes I'm even able to stay sitting up. However, I'm still very "off" and can't focus or remember much for a good while after the fact. I can't talk or communicate during one, even with my slight bit of consciousness.

My experiences are not universal, I just wanted to talk about it and bring it up. It helps to talk about it even a little bit. Here's more about different kinds of seizures. Here's more about common seizure triggers. Here's more about CORRECT seizure first aid. And here's more general information/resources.

Please stop leaving us out of disability awareness. Please stop ignoring us or saying we're "not really disabled" or anything else like that. Please. Why does it always feel like the only people who care about epilepsy, are people WITH epilepsy? We're so tired of being ignored by others who don't have our condition.

If you're an epileptic person reading this, I see you. I love you. You're so strong, we all are. I believe in you, I believe in us. We're so much stronger than we get credit for, and it's going to be ok. Your anger and frustration are valid. Your emotions and struggles are real. You're valid, and I see you. Hang in there, we got this.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 1: Jace is furious that a mere servant like you has Targaryen blood. It would benefit you to know your place.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Dragonseed (f) reader

The grand halls of Dragonstone echoed with the sounds of dragons and the footsteps of staff. You walked among them, invisible. As a servant, you were accustomed to blending into the background, a silent observer to the lives of the Targaryens.

Today was no different. The sun cast long rays through the high windows as you carried a tray of goblets, preoccupied with tasks. You barely noticed the tall figure that stood watching you from a shadowed alcove.

"Come with me," a commanding voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up to see Jacaerys Velaryon.

You hesitated, but his tone left no room for disobedience. It wasn't as if you could deny a prince anyway. You followed him down a dimly lit corridor. You rushed to brush down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. He led you into a small, secluded room, closing the door behind you with a thud.

"Do you know why you're here?" Jacaerys asked, his eyes boring into yours. It seemed like he was studying your eyes, and you cast yours down, unable to handle his intensity.

You had been self-concious about your eyes. Their unusual purple hue had caused you to be the butt of many jokes and accusations.

"No, my prince," you stammered.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Y/N, L/N" he said. “That's your full name, correct?”

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, before adding the customary, “My prince.”

"I've been researching our bloodlines, looking for potential dragon riders. Imagine my surprise when I found out about you," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "A servant, hiding in plain sight."

You blinked, confusion mingling with fear. "Me?"

"Yes, you," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "You are a Targaryen bastard. Your lineage gives you a claim, a potential to bond with a dragon."

The revelation hit you like a tidal wave. Yet the intensity in Jacaerys' eyes told you he believed it.

"But... I'm just a servant," you whispered, struggling to process your shock.

"Aye, just a servant," he echoed, his gaze piercing. "With the blood of the dragon in her veins."

His tone was insinuating that you were unworthy of the privilege, which made you acutely aware of the power dynamic. He was a prince, the heir to the throne. He was pure and noble and chosen by the gods, while you were a nobody, a commoner, privileged to even be in his presence. It made you feel small and insignificant.

"My prince," you replied, bowing your head. "I have no wish to claim a dragon. I am content as I am."

Jacaerys' eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Forgive me if I don't believe you." he said, his voice low and challenging. "Power corrupts even those who do not wish for it."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The revelation that you were a Targaryen bastard haunted you. You had never known your parents, raised by an innkeeper who later sent you to work as a servant at the Dragonstone. Your life had been a series of harsh treatments, endless work, and neglect. But now, the knowledge that you had the blood of the dragon stirred something in you.

As you scrubbed the floors of the castle, you couldn't help but ponder what it would be like to be a dragon rider, to wield such awesome power. You imagine life as a princess, adored and respected, a major contrast to your current situation. But you kept these thoughts to yourself.

Today, your tasks took you to the castle study, carrying scrolls and parchments for the maesters. As you entered the study, you noticed the prince perched over maps and documents, his expression intense and focused.

Your curiosity got the better of you. Gathering your courage, you approached him hesitantly. "My prince, may I ask you something?" you bowed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jacaerys looked up. "What is it?" he asked, his tone measured but firm.

"I... I was wondering if you could tell me who my parents were" you said, your heart pounding in your chest.

"And why would you need that information?" he responded, his gaze challenging.

You flinched slightly but forced yourself to speak. "I grew up not knowing where I came from. It's a curiosity I can't ignore... even if its just their names. Please."

Jacaerys studied you for a long moment, his expression a contemplation. Finally, he sighed, his tone remaining hard. "Your mother was a distant niece of my great-grandsire," he began, watching your reaction closely, "and your father was a mere farm hand. As far as I could tell, she was a bastard herself, and they were both commoners like you.”

His words stung, but you were grateful to at least have some information. You fidgeted with your hands. “Do you know their names?”

“I couldn't find your fathers name, but your mother was recorded. Her name was Halaena.”

“Halaena,” you repeated, not understanding why your heart sped up as you spoke the name of your mother. It was beautiful. "Thank you, my prince," you said, bowing your head, hiding a smile.

He regarded you with a mix of disdain and curiosity. "You're welcome.” he said before turning back to his maps and documents, effectively dismissing you.

You turned to leave the study, your mind racing, but as you reached for the door handle, he called after you. “Remember your place.” Jace didn't bother lifting His eyes off the maps to see your response.

Your hands balled into fists. You've never interacted with Jace much. But your fellow servents had only nice things to say about him. Well, clearly, they had misread his character.

Nevertheless, your mother's name echoed in your thoughts, bringing a strange sense of satisfaction; finally, you've answered a question you've had your whole life. For the first time in your life, you felt a connection to your past. As you resumed your duties, a quiet resolve began to take root within you. A hope that this is a potential plan b.

[sommerbueckers]

HEAR ME OUTTTT what about reader’s being insanely smart and a “good girl” while P being a campus player and party-girl so once they get to know each other at one party because reader was dragged there by her friends and after that P won’t leave her alone and eventually catch feelings 🤭🤭🤭 (you can add smut if u wantttt)

𝐏𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧

___________________________________________________________

✰ ❝𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐩, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧❞

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐.𝟗𝐤

✰ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

___________________________________________________________

IT WAS BY FAR the wildest party you had ever been to. Granted, you didn't have much to compare it to, but you were sure this was no regular college party. You had been clinging to the corner all night, the same drink that had been handed to you when you first got here remained full as you carried it around.

Your friends had left your side hours ago and you hadn't seen them since, the only sign that they were still here were the locations of their phones on Life360. If it hadn't been for their promise to take turns helping you study for the next few days, you wouldn't have even agreed to come out tonight. But you had never been one to turn down study help.

You weaved your way through the crowd of people, cringing as their sweaty bodies brushed against yours. At last, you reached the kitchen, letting out a sigh of relief when you found it to be mildly empty. You set your drink down behind you on the counter and pulled out your phone in an attempt to distract yourself. Due to it being the only thing standing between you and an unwanted encounter with a drunken college student, most of its battery had already been drained.

"Nice shirt," a voice came from in front of you.

Standing at the island pouring herself a drink was Paige Bueckers, clad in black cargos and a black crop top.

"Thanks," you smiled kindly, glancing down at your t-shirt. It was a science joke, distance raptor over time raptor equaled velociraptor. It was your only clean shirt.

Paige nodded, smirking to herself and holding back her laughter. It was then that it clicked for you, she wasn't complimenting your shirt out of the kindness of her heart. There was no kindness in her heart, if she even had one. Her reputation on campus, the one that didn't have to do with her being a monster on the court, had never sat right with you. The way she treated girls was nothing short of disgusting.

"You were being sarcastic..." you nodded in embarrassed realization, pressing your lips into a thin line.

Paige shook her head, "No, no it..." she trailed off, twisting on the cap to the bottle of vodka and turning to you, "it's an interesting shirt for a party that's all."

You nodded again, "It was the only clean one I had, I don't usually wear stuff like this."

"Hm," she hummed to herself, "what's your name?"

"Chloe."

Paige took a step toward you, but it was only to get out of the way of the guys that were clawing at the bottle of vodka behind her, not because she found you intriguing.

"I'm Paige," she said.

"I know." Everyone knows.

She raised her eyebrows, face feigning surprise. "You know huh?" she leaned against the counter on the other side of the corner. "How do you know?"

"If you think i'm gonna sit here and boost your ego, you can think again," you sassed, your brows heavenward.

Her eye creased as she laughed, "Alright, alright, I quit."

As the conversation shifted to a more awkward silence, Paige shifted uncomfortably, trying to find common ground. You adjusting your shirt, looked down at your hands, suddenly aware of the vast differences between your worlds. The room seemed to shrink around you, the hum of the party fading into the background. Paige cleared her throat, feeling the weight of the silence.

Paige watched you with a curious intensity as she took a sip of her drink, the party’s noise swirling around you. "You here with your boyfriend or...?" she asked, her eyes locked on yours.

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and flattery coloring your cheeks. "My boyfriend?" you snorted, a laugh escaping your lips despite the awkwardness. The thought of Paige assuming you were attractive enough to have a boyfriend was flattering, but then a nagging suspicion crept in that maybe the blonde was being sarcastic again. Your cheeks reddened as you said, "Very funny."

Paige’s expression remained unreadable, her gaze steady. "I take that as a no?" Her voice was clear and sincere, devoid of any trace of amusement. It was evident she genuinely wanted to know.

You shifted in your place suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, no boyfriend," you admitted, the weight of the conversation shifting from lighthearted to more personal. "Just me."

Paige’s soft eyes faltered slightly, giving way to a hint of something else. "Got it," she said, taking another sip of her drink. "So, who're you here with then?"

"Couple friends of mine, this is more their scene than mine," you turned slightly to grab your red solo cup off the counter and take a sip. You cringed at the taste.

"I figured, shirt gave you away," Paige smirked.

"Don't underestimate me, I can throw down when I need to," you pointed at her, a large smile plastered on your face.

"Oh yeah? I'll have to see that."

The two of you broke out into a fit of laughter, Paige's drink sloshing around in her cup and spilling out onto the floor. This made you laugh a little harder, covering your mouth.

"But seriously," she spoke when you both had finally calmed down, "you gotta show me the party animal in you."

"Mhm, next party I gotchu."

You knew there wouldn't be a next time, but it seemd like the right thing to say at the moment. For all you knew, Paige wouldn't even remember this conversation tomorrow.

"Why wait?" Paige's eyes lit up with a challenge. She glanced around the room and spotted a group of people gathered around a table set up for beer pong. "Let's do it now. You and me, beer pong."

You felt yourself unable to protest as she pulled you toward the table. You had never played in a real life game before, your only experience being GamePigeon's cup pong. You weren't sure how well you'd fare. But there was something about the moment, about Paige's soothing voice and reassuring smile, that made you want to go along with it.

The table was lined with red cups filled with beer, set up in a triangle formation on each end. A couple of people cheered as you both approached, ready for a new game. Paige grabbed a ping pong ball and handed it to you with a smirk. "You first. Show me what you've got."

You took a deep breath and focused, aiming for the cup at the center of the triangle. The ball arced through the air, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down. It landed with a satisfying plop into the cup. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Paige gave you a playful shove. "Not bad for a wallflower, let's see if you can keep up."

Paige grabbed a ball and took her shot, her aim precise. The ball bounced off the rim of a cup and landed in another, earning her a round of applause. She turned to you with a triumphant grin. "Your turn."

The game continued, the two of you trading shots and banter. The tense attitude you had started with faded away with each laugh, each missed shot, each triumphant score. At some point, Paige leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear. "You're doin' so good," she whispered, her voice low and teasing. "Maybe you really can throw down."

You smiled, feeling prideful and relieved at the same time. For once, it felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. The game continued, but the outcome didn't really matter. What mattered was the moment—the laughter, the soft brushing of Paige's arm against your waist, how she would compliment you every time she felt you were doing good.

When the game was over, the guys on the other side insisted on playing another round, thirsty to redeem themselves. The overwhelming feeling of not wanting to disappoint the blonde washed over you, this must've been how all the other girls had felt when the time came to get down and dirty with her. There was something about her that made you crave her approval.

HALFWAY THROUGH THE SECOND round you had started to notice the alcohol taking effect. The precision of your aim quickly plummeted, and before you knew it, you were launching balls straight at the wall. When it was over, you threw your hands in celebration even though you had lost. Paige doubled over in laughter, grabbing her stomach when it began to hurt.

You drunkenly stumbled out of the dining room, knocking into a few people, the contents of their drinks spilling onto your shirt. Paige was at your side in an instant, her arm slithering around your waist to keep you upright. It was clearly time for you to be heading home, you were significantly more drunk than Paige despite having roughly around the same amount of alcohol consumption -- if not less.

"C'mon lightweight," she snickered, "let's get you outta here."

Paige didn't know where you lived, but that wasn't something she had thought about until she reached the front lawn of the house. She stood there, stumped and unsure of where to go from there. She looked down at you, noticing the way you were leaning your head against her chest, and she made the split second decision to take you back to her place.

PAIGE WAS TAKING REMARKABLE care of you. Upon arriving back at her apartment, she had given you a cold glass of water, t-shirt of hers to wear, and even helped you wash your face. You were now laid up in her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed look in your eye. Paige reappeared from the bathroom ruffling her wet hair with a towel. She had changed into a pair of basketball shorts and an old shirt, now making her way over to you.

"Hi," you giggled, feet coming up to rest on her chest as you wiggled in your place.

"Hi," she smiled softly, tilting her head at the unexpected contact. She wrapped her hand around your ankle, but didn't move your leg. "You tired?" she asked.

"No," you bit your lip, gradually moving your foot down her body. The alcohol was giving you a new sense of confidence, one that you seemed to be using to your advantage. You reached the waistband of Paige's shorts, anticipating her act of putting a stop to your antics. She did, her grip tightening on your foot.

"You're wasted," she shook her head, smiling brightly.

You mirrored her smile, stretching your arms out above your head. "Hmm," you hummed in satisfaction, "I fear...you're not wrong."

Paige's eyes trailed down to your underwear, cheeky styled gray panties with lime green lacing around the edges. Slowly but surely, her fingers made their way up your leg, softly grazing over your shin...and your knee...before reaching the soft skin of your thigh.

You felt a shiver run through you at her touch, the sensation heightened by the alcohol. Paige's gaze was steady, her touch light but purposeful. The contrast between her casual demeanor and the tenderness of her touch was striking, and you found yourself caught between exhaustion and a growing sense of desire.

Paige shifted her position, her fingers now tracing patterns on your thigh. "You know if you're gonna be stayin' here, I want you to be comfortable..."

"Yeah," you agreed in a whisper.

She moved your leg aside, climbing on top of you with her arms on either side of your head.

"I want you to feel welcome and cared for. So you just tell me what to do, and i'll do that for you."

Your arms wrapped around her neck, not fully understanding how the two of you had gotten here, but also not complaining either.

The truth was, Paige had wanted to kiss you all night. Ever since she had caught sight of you standing alone in the kitchen wearing a dinosaur science t-shirt, eyes glued to your phone as you carried around an untouched cup of...whatever.

When she had approached you, her initial intention had been to tease you, to break the ice with a comment that would get a reaction out of you. But as the night went on, she found herself drawn to you more than she had predicted. The more you laughed and interacted, the more she felt a magnetic pull. Each time your eyes met, she saw a spark of something genuine and kind in you that was hard to ignore.

She didn't just want this to be another hookup that got swept away in the morning wind, she wanted to know every part of you.

She crashed her lips into yours. The kiss was fiery and urgent, filled with the passion that had been building all night. It was as if time had stopped, and for those precious seconds, nothing else mattered. Paige’s hand pulled your shirt up, inching closer to your chest. She pulled away, resting up on her knees as she straddled you.

She grabbed hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head before reconnecting your lips. She kissed you harder this time, fingers clawing at your side and making you squirm beneath her. Her lips traveled down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses up until she reached the collar of her shirt. Although you had just put it on, you put up no fight as Paige took it back off.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of your bare body, nipples hard and presented to her like two pieces of candy. She swirled her tongue around one before taking it into her mouth, kneading the other with her hand. Soft moans fell from your lips, and it was all the motivation Paige needed as she moved to your other nipple.

Your back arched off of the bed, chasing the feeling of Paige's mouth around your sensitive bud.

She moved her attention lower, fingers ghosting over your clit. You shuddered, a response Paige took pride in. She ran her fingers up and down, the light gray of your panties darkening as they soaked in your slick.

"Stop teasing me..." you pleaded, staring down at her.

"Hmm but look how wet you are..." she murmured, "I think you like it."

She pressed her thumb to your clit, rubbing in maddeningly slow circles. You could feel the arousal seeping out of you, had it not been for the fabric of your underwear, you were sure it would've made a mess on her sheets.

"How 'bout we take these off..."

"Yes," you nodded eagerly.

Hooking her fingertips on the edge of your panties, she pulled them down your legs and dropped them to the floor.

She spread your lips apart, licking her lips at the way your pussy shined in front of her like a lost treasure. She licked her lips, blowing softly onto it. The cold air was a stark contrast to the heat you were feeling, and a whimper slipped past your lips and filled the room. It was like music to the blonde's ears.

She pressed a kiss to your core, her lips covered in your juices as she parted them to kitten-lick your cunt.

"Need more," you begged.

"What do you want Chloe?"

"Want your fingers."

She ghosted over the entrance of your hole, taunting you as she slipped the tip of her fingers in and took them back out.

"Stop..."

She laughed, finally giving in. She inserted two fingers inside of you, reveling in the way you immediately clenched around her. It was humbling that Paige could feel how wet you were, but hearing it was enough to make you want to sink into a hole and never come out.

You could already feel your release building inside of you, and Paige's fingers curled around inside of you to bring you closer. She swirled her tongue around your clip, flattening it out as she intensified the movements of her fingers.

"Paige," you called out, voice weak.

"Hmm," she hummed against your pussy, your back arched further.

"Ah, Paige!" you said more firmly, hand moving to tangle in her hair. You moved your hips against her, "Gonna come."

It was then that the pleasure ceased. Paige had taken her fingers out of you, removed her tongue from your swollen clit. She was unbuttoning her cargos, hastily pulling them down along with her boxers. You leaned up on your elbows, frowning at her.

She tossed her bottoms to the side, her shirt and bra soon went soon after. She roughly spread your legs wider, climbing on top of you and lining up her pussy with yours. The second they made contact, your head fell back onto the bed.

She held your thigh up to her chest, her hips moving powerfully with yours.

"Fuck," she groaned, her darkened gaze locking onto yours.

"Just like that, just like that," you mumbled, "gonna make me come so hard."

The bed creaked and cracked, the headboard faintly banging against the wall behind it. Your hands grabbed onto your tits, pulling at your nipples as Paige watched hungrily.

Your body shook as you came, your yells filling the room and clouding Paige's mind. She didn't stop, she still had to come. She continued to move against your overstimulated core, your hand coming up to grab her bicep.

"Shit!" you moaned, your brows knitted together. Your whines and whimpers kept her going until she finally came, her movements slowing before they came to a stop.

Her weary body collapsed onto yours, face buried in your neck as you both came down from your highs. She panted in your ear, the sound almost enough to make you want another round.

"Fuck that was good..." you finally said through a laugh.

Paige laughed as well, lifting her head to place a soft kiss on your lips, "I know."

___________________________________________________________

[akixxsstuff]

Dating L would be like...

Death Note L Lawliet x gender neutral reader

(I'm aware that the picture says girlfriend but the gender of the reader is not specified in the fic. The pictures were also edited by me).

Fluff // One shot

Summary: L was more like a machine than a human, he was cold, calculated and a "no fun and games" type of person aside from the occasional sarcastic or dry humored comment. L never lost his composure and would repress any emotion he had has a intimidation tactic. He was blunt and wouldn't allow anything or anyone to dethrone him.

However around you, L wasn't quite that...

The task force had suspected you and L were a couple, but whenever anyone asked about it, L would quickly shut down the conversation and went back to his work, saying that it wasn't any of their business. You and L were a couple but he just wanted to keep things secretive and professional since doing otherwise made him feel vulnerable.

He couldn't let his suspect Light know how much you meant to him just in case he used it against him, plus it was just in L's nature to be serective.

However as soon the doors were closed and the task force was gone, he would be nuzzling into your shoulder, whining for attention. He would never stop clinging onto you until he got he's way because in his own words, "I'm also childish and don't like to lose".

Like today for instance:

"Not now Lolly, I've got an appointment to book", you said sighing while L continued kissing your neck and nibbling your ear from behind. "I love you but I do not appreciate your lack of cooperation" L then grumbled.

Lolly was your main pet name for L since it sounded like it was short for lollipop, (and we all know how much L loves those) and sounded similar to his real name, Lawliet. Panda was also another common one since he reminded you of one with his dark eyes and pale skin.

He then kneeled in between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, looking up at you in annoyance in an attempt to guilt trip you, (however he couldn't mask he's pleading eyes). "Lolly I already told you I'm busy, just 10 more minutes okay my love?" you cooed while stroking his cheek. But L didn't care, he picked you up bridal style from your chair and tossed you onto the bed. "Lawliet, you should know of all people how important it is to not have any distractions from your work" you said rasing an eyebrow. "You make a fair point" L says with his thumb on his lip, "But I'm not feeling very empathetic tonight" then he proceeded to smother you with kisses.

Another thing L wouldn't budge on is removing all the cameras and wiring taps from your room, if someone broke in and tired to hurt you he needed to know immediately who was responsible so he could toss them in jail forever. He valued your life way more than his, afterall, he did challenge Kira to kill him live on broadcast.

Your dates were either cafe hopping, picnics in the park, or L trying to teach you tennis. You would always try to get him to wear shoes but he would refuse, saying "I don't like how they feel". "I know but I don't want you to step on a piece of glass and hurt yourself" you would say while kissing his forehead. "I will live" L would reply while blushing from your kiss. You would then sigh and take off your shoes, "Fine, if that's how you want to play" and you both would walk around barefoot.

L absolutely loved when you taunted his number one suspect Light, in fact it was his love language.

"I'm not Kira!" Light would yell.

"You're not a very convincing actor Light, but hey! Maybe they'll give you an academy award in prison just for trying. Light Yagami! Mass murderer tries playing innocent victim!".

As a detective, L would always be analysising people's behaviour and you were no expectation.

"How was your day darling?" L cooed.

"Fine. I'm going to my room".

You say that you're fine Y/N yet you're tone and lack of physical affection would indicate otherwise. Could you be trying to deprive me of your attention as an indirect punishment? What could have I done?

However, you did mention how your work load has increased because of the lack of empyoees, were you stressed from that and simply avoided me to avoid talking about it? I should confront you instead of making any assumptions, it could make matters worse because you might believe that I am deliberately ignoring you.

"Love, I believe I have done something to upset you, please tell me what it is was so I can correct my behaviour. Will you accept this piece of cake as a initial peace offering? If I'm not to blame then please tell me who's bothering you so I can potentially sue them".

[lehguru]

Could you do how one piece characters comfort their crying girlfriend?!:D

CRYING + ONE PIECE MEN

zoro, law, luffy and rosinante comforting you while you're crying!!

info: pure fluff!! i tried to not specify why reader was crying, so it could be as broad as possible, also im aware that the quote by pylades is overused but im in love with it leave me alone (/lh), gender neutral — ko-fi

roronoa zoro froze upon seeing you like that. you were taking way too long to get out of your shared room, you said you were "just changing to something warmer" and taking that amount of time to do so concerned him. when he opened the door, you were kneeling on the floor, your face buried on a pillow against the bed; after hearing his footsteps, you felt even more tears come out of your eyes.

your name fell out of his lips in such a soft and gentle tone, you almost thought it wasn't your boyfriend there. "what happened?" he asked, kneeling next to you and placing a hand on top of your head. you looked up at him, your eyelashes and your undereyes completely wet; you blinked at him, processing his question, and immediately started to cry again. you threw yourself into his arms and he held you, hugging you protectively—one of his arms hugged your waist, while the other cradled your head.

you kept on sobbing against him, hearing the way his heart pounded faster in his chest. zoro was quiet, his eye closed and his jaw was visibly clenched—he wished that he could get all the pain you have and put it on himself, he could handle it for you. "hey," he suddenly said, making his chest rumble, "i'll be here when you're ready to talk about it. or don't want to talk about it– i just... i'm here. for you." the awkwardness of his words made you choke out a giggle and you relaxed in his embrace. everything is going to be fine.

trafalgar d.water law didn't expect you to be the one knocking at his office door. it was late, he thought everyone—he hoped that you were too—fast asleep; upon seeing you passing the door, looking at the floor shyly, he immediately thought something was wrong. "are you okay there?" he asked you and your face immediately scrunched up, tears falling from your eyes. while you buried your face in your hands, law got up from his chair, almost dropping it to the floor. in two quick steps, he reached you and hugged you tightly; you hugged him too, your fingers pressing against his back.

"i-i'm sorry for— 'm sorry i bothered you." you managed to say between sobs, feeling the way he played with your hair to calm you down. he kissed the top of your head, so softly it almost made you melt down. "it's not a bother." he whispered, hugging you a bit tighter. "not if it's you."

he held you like that until your crying got better. pulling away slightly, he put his hands on your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. he hated to see them and hated himself even more for not being able to stop them from falling at all in the first place. "let's go to bed, yeah? we can talk tomorrow, if you want to." you nodded and he picked you up, making his way to your shared bedroom. if he couldn't stop your tears from falling, he would at least cuddle you and make sure you feel comfortable and protected. make sure that you know he wouldn't let anything bad happen to you.

monkey d.luffy always had the right actions to make you laugh and he made you incredibly happy. that's why it was a shock to him when he saw you crying, alone in the bathroom. it was common for him to come into the bathroom while you were taking a bath, so him opening up the door, saying your name loudly, wasn't a surprise. you tried to wipe away your tears, but it was too late.

"what— are you hurt?" he immediately asked, his usual smile replaced by a frown. he kneeled next to you, one of his hands rested against your cheek, and his eyes scanned your body. you shook your head and tried to smile, but your tears started to flow again. surprising you, luffy got up and left, leaving you alone. even through your soft sobs, you could hear your boyfriend running around the house and it confused you so much, it almost made you forget why you were crying in the first place.

when luffy got back, he picked you up and carried you to the bed, carefully putting the covers over you—his movements were so gentle, it made you smile at the act. once he was satisfied with the little burrito he put you in, he sat down on the bed, his legs crisscrossing. "i don't really know what to do right now, to make you happy again." he spoke up, his big smile back on his face, and petted your head. "and if you don't know either, it's okay. i will just stay here. imma watch out for you and punch away anything that could make you sad." he punched the air and that made you giggle. it didn't take long for you to fall asleep, the comfort of the blankets and tiredness overwhelming you. just like he promised, luffy stayed there until the next morning, sitting next to you.

during your relationship, donquixote rosinante was always good at comforting you. whether it was through words that were exactly what you wanted to hear or through his small clumsy acts, he always managed to comfort you; but it didn't mean that he knew how to act upon seeing you cry.

whenever you cried close to him, he would panic, his heart almost coming out of his mouth as tears of his own started to build up on his eyes. his first instintic was to hug you, but he immediately remember that could make you uncomfortable. breathing in and out, rosinante kneeled in front of you, trying his best to smile and murmur: "is there anything i can do to help you?"

you shook your head, a soft 'i don't know' leaving your lips through a sob, and he hummed. "would cuddling or a hug make you feel lighter?" this time, you nodded and he immediately embraced you, cooing praises and caring words while rubbing circles on your back. he knew that doing just that wouldn't show you the full extent of how much he loves you, how seeing you like that and not knowing why you were crying was like hell to him. if it cheered you up, he would reach inside his chest and give you his heart—it was already yours anyway.

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