#Do you guys ever remember when you were a little bit younger and for whatever circumstantial reason a little freer and have no idea why it

[lesbiandonnanoble]

Is it off base and insane to say that text post I reblogged by carefulzombie that goes “I’m the best dog you’ll ever have, I can never be replicated” over the picture of jamie doctor who is basically the root explanation of and reason why 11 dresses in the suave cosplay version of 2’s clothes and tries by force to feel 2’s natural whimsy every day of his life and ultimately is fucked by it

[ochacoca]

03 – feels so scary getting old

now playing ♫ ribs by lorde

timeskip!oikawa x fem!reader

When you're dragged back to your coastal hometown for a family trip, you're dreading the fact you have to spend it with your rival and former lover, Tōru Oikawa. But as the summer stretches on, you start to realize that maybe you never hated him all along.

word count: 2,696 words

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It seemed that everytime you just wanted to stay home and relax, there was always someone dragging you out of bed. You got the text from Iwaizumi at noon. You were in your bed eating some breakfast while watching the newest episodes of your reality show when you felt your phone vibrate

iwa 😋

since when did you get back in town??

iwa 😋

come to the beach tn. there's a bonfire

Honestly, you were just going to ignore the text. If you ever ran into Iwaizumi in public, which was likely, you were just going to tell him that you never saw the message and continue on with your day. You had no interest in seeing the people you went to highschool with again. Sure, it would be nice, but you knew Oikawa would infiltrate into your friend group like a little roach. You had enough of that man for the entire summer and it was only a week and a half into your vacation.

You shut off your phone and turned it to face down as you tuned back into your show. You would just see the rest of your friends when you'd eventually run into them while shopping anyways. It's a small town.

Just as you were zoned in, a harsh knock came on down on the front door. You internally groaned as you remembered neither of your parents or younger siblings were home. Maybe if you ignored it, they'd go away. It was silent for about 30 more seconds, and you thought it worked, until another knock pounded against it. You huffed and begrudgingly stood up from your bed, slipping on your bunny slippers as you stomped to the door and swung it open.

And there Oikawa stood. His sunglasses were perched up on his head and he was wearing a cream colored shirt with lightwashed jeans. The front pieces of his hair stuck to his forehead from the humidity. He looked up from his phone as you opened the door and smirked at you as he stared you up and down. “That's how you're going?” He quipped. You sneered at him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned him.

“Iwa said you weren't answering your phone,” Oikawa explained. “ He told me to come get you.”

Of course he did. Iwaizumi just couldn't let you have a single day of peace. You leaned against the doorframe with a scowl on your face. “Give me 10 minutes.” You mumbled.

Oikawa nodded at you and smiled way too casually for your liking.

“I'll be waiting in the car.” He said as he stepped backwards off your porch. His gaze lowered down to your feet. “Cute slippers.” He snorted.

You looked back down at your bunny slippers, then back up at him to see his stupid smirk. You rolled your eyes and stomped back into the house.

The minute Oikawa parked the car at the beach, you barely waited for him to put the car in park before hopped out. It was weird seeing all the familiar faces you hadn't seen in so long. Everyone greeted you with a hug or a kiss on the cheek as they saw you walking. You smiled and waved at everyone who shouted your name, but you immediately went to your two bestfriends who you hadn't seen in years.

Yachi and Kiyoko stood by the shore as they spoke about who knows what. When you called out their names, they both lit up and screeched, racing towards you and pulling you into a big hug.

The three of you stayed together for the whole night. While the rest of the people went swimming or played beach volleyball, you guys stayed by the bonfire, soaking up the heat and drinking whatever horrible mixture of alcohol Bokuto mixed up.

“So…” Yachi started, leaning over to you slightly. “What happened with you and Oikawa?” You laughed and bit the rim of your solo cup, shaking your head as you stared at the crackling fire in front of you.

“Did you two break up?” Kiyoko asked gently.

“We never got together.”

Both of their jaws dropped. They saw firsthand how close you and Oikawa were. When you were still in highschool, you'd always go to them and recount the dates you and Oikawa had been in. But after that night, you were too embarrassed to say anything about him.

“WHAT?!” Yachi gasped. “You're joking!”

“Seriously?” Kiyoko yelped as she covered her mouth with her hand. “What happened?”

You hated talking about that night. Fuck, you even hated thinking about it. But the alcohol was already seeping through your system, and you started blurting it out before you even realized.

MAY 30, 2013

What you and Tōru had was complicated. You two would hug, hold hands, kiss, but you weren't dating. You weren't necessarily friends either, but there wasn't really a word to label what the two of you were. You were way too focused on your studies to be in a relationship. And he was way too focused on volleyball to be in a relationship either.

You both were relaxing on the hammock on his front porch. It was a couple days after graduation and summer was just barely getting started. The sounds of waves crashing and cicadas buzzing around you was so soothing to the point where you could almost fall asleep. You and Tōru were cuddled up with each other, with you laying on his chest and one of his arms wrapped around your waist as his free hand played with your hair. Neither of you had said anything in a good while.

It had been like this a lot lately. With the silence. It was uncomfortable, it was just uncommon. Before last month, you and Tōru wouldn't go without talking for 5 minutes if you two were in a room together.

“So.. still set on Tokyo?” He asked to break the silence. You could feel his heart thudding as you laid on his chest. You nodded and sat up to face him with a bright smile on your face. You recently been accepted to the University of Tokyo. And that was your plan after graduation. You and Oikawa would get together, go to college together, and live happily ever after. That's been the plan since junior high.

“You're coming with me, right?” You whispered softly, running your hair through his soft, brown locks. Tōru was planning to coach a youth volleyball team in Tokyo while you focused on your studies. You expected him to nod along and smile just as brightly as you were, but what he said made your heart stop.

He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, rubbing at his temples to prepare to tell you what seemed like the biggest heartbreak of your life. “Listen, Y/n…” He said, and your smile dropped immediately. He picked at his fingers and avoided your gaze until you placed your hand on his cheek and guided him to face you.

“What is it?” You asked. There was thousands of possibilities running through your head right now. He got rejected? He couldn't go to Tokyo with you? He decided to stay here?

“I'm going to Argentina.” He said as he sat up as well. He folded his hands together and pressed them against his forehead before standing up, leaving you by yourself on the hammock.

You frowned. “Argentina..? So far?” You sputtered. You bit the inside of your cheeks as your eyes followed his body as he leaned against the white railing of the porch. He just nodded.

He didn't even say anything. He didn't even look in your direction. You should've taken that as your sign that there was more to it. But you kept going.

How did you two get here? One minute, you two were kissing each other like nothing could stop you. Like everything else around you had disappeared and you had all the time in the world. Now, he couldn't even look at you.

“But hey!” You blurted out, mind racing with different solutions that didn't have to mean the end of this. “We could still make it work. W-we could-” Your voice cracked and you stuttered as you spoke. It was pathetic how desperate you sounded.

“No..” He said coldly. It felt like a knife to your chest.

“But-” You tried to reason. Your voice was weak and your fingers trembled when you realized there wasn't room for any convincing.

“I think we should end.. whatever this is.”

You blinked. You tuned out everything else. You could no longer hear the waves nor the cicadas and could only focus on how your heart clenched.

“…What?”

“I don't think long distance is a good idea.”

With that sentence, years of memories went down the drain. Anytime he'd hold you when you cried, kissed you when you felt unpretty, laughed with you until you both couldn't breath. It all meant nothing.

“Why not?” You felt the lump form in your throat immediately as you asked. Your breaths were shaky and your visions blurred with tears.

“It just isn't.” He replied sharply, not providing more information which was driving you crazy. “It won't work for us.”

You felt the anger seeping through your body. Your heart was racing and your breath quickened. “How would you know?” You snapped at him. “Why are you making all the decisions by yourself?”

“It's better to end whatever this is now then for us to get hurt later.”

The way he said it. It made you realize it wasn't just a sudden thing. He thought about it over and over before bringing it up to you. He rehearsed it probably hundreds of time before you knew a thing.

You stood there, eyes widen and mouth agape. This wasn't the Tōru you knew at all. The one you knew would atleast look in your eyes tell you. Not have his back turned towards you like a coward. “Well, good job. You did so good at not hurting me.”

He finally looked at you. You could see the regret and hurt in his eyes. But you ignored it and left. He didn't get to be upset at you and your words.

You didn't wait for him to respond to you. You grabbed your things and walked home immediately. The tears wouldn't stop running down your face and you felt like you couldn't breath from how much you were sobbing. You quietly entered the house and walked down the hallway to your bedroom. Little Moka stood by her door in the hallway, her face contorting into a look of concern and confusion before you shut the door and went to bed.

He left for Argentina two weeks later and you two haven't spoken since then.

That was 6 years ago.

Anytime you found out Oikawa would be back in town for the summer, you never came down. You've avoided him like a plague for more than half a decade.

You always made excuses. Claiming you were too busy with work to come down or the timeframe just didn’t work out for you. But deepdown, you knew it was because you weren't ready to see him.

But now here you were, drunk out of your mind, soaked from the droplets of rain that started pouring down, and eye to eye with him in the middle of a thunderstorm.

It was only drizzling a couple of minutes ago, and it had stopped so nobody paid attention to it. But when the thunder clapped and the downpour started, everyone started gathering their things are hauling to their cars.

You were too out of it to fathom what was going on, only snapping out of it when you felt him tugging on your wrist. “Come on, we're getting soaked.” Oikawa said quite urgently as he gently tried to guide you back to his car.

“I'm fine! I'm having fun!” You slurred as you tried to go further. You yanked your arm back from him and staggered a couple feet away. However, you didn't get far.

Oikawa immediately closed the distance between you and scooped you up bridal style and walked you to the car.

“What do you think you're doing?! Put me down!” You yelped. You whined all the way to the car, kicking your legs and smacking his back with your fist. Oikawa ignored all of your antics and stuffed you in the passenger seat in the car.

Once he sat down in the driver's side, he turned on the heat and reached in the backseat for a towel, gently rubbing it on your soaked hair and wet face then wrapping it around your shoulders as you pouted.

You sank down in the seat and looked outside the window. You and Oikawa were the only ones there. Everyone else was long gone and the rain was only starting to pour harder.

“I said I was fine.”

“You're not fine.” He grumbled as he fastened your seat belt. “You're wasted and made us stay outside in the rain cause of how childish you were being. You're gonna get sick.”

You had an incredulous smile on your face as you scoffed at him. “Since when did you care about me?” You rebutted.

You would have missed the way Oikawa flinched if you weren't watching him so closely. And he's still the coward you once knew before. Not facing you at all and resting his forehead on the steering wheel as he spoke. “I do care about you.”

That's rich coming from him. Did he care when he kept the fact he was leaving you for god knows how long? Did he care when he couldn't even look in the face as he dumped you on his front porch?

“So then why did you leave?” You said after a beat of silence.

Now he finally looks at you and his face is full of raw emotion. The past few weeks, he’s covered everything up with a smirk or a smile. But now sitting here, facing you, you can see the regret in his eyes. “What?” His voice was sharp yet catious. “Can we please talk about this when you're sober?”

“N-no because I really wanna know.” You slurred yet again. Your eyelids were so droopy you couldn't tell if you were facing him or looking past him. “How long did you know before you left me?”

He turned away again, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. It was like he physically couldn't look at you. “Please… can we not talk about this now-” He almost begged.

“Then when!? Because it's been 6 years Oikawa!” You finally snapped. All of the bottled up emotions you'd been feeling for so long came boiling over and you couldn't keep it in anymore “Do you want me to wait 6 more?!”

His palm smacked the center console in frustration, bringing a hand to his facr to pinch the bridge of his nose as he snapped back at you. “Why are you still so angry with me?!”

“Because you left me behind! You were going to leave without telling me anything!” You wailed. You were barely holding it together as the tears that you had mistaken for rain were dripping down your face. You didn't notice you were crying until he brought his hand up to wipe the tears off your face, but you flinched back.

He just stared at you. Lips parted as he tried to find words to say, but he couldn't find any. He was just silent, and then he drove off. You swore in that moment, that his silence was worse than anything else he could've done.

TAGLIST [10/50]: @baylz @sypnasis @asxprse @remyra @4jjsbank @rafaissance @liverandom @seishoyo @x3nafix @raining4food

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

[oracularvernacular]

𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Zayne has a super pretty older sister, who is dating one of the deepspace hunter girlies, and also a younger sister!

Nurse Yvonne invites Greyson to girls' night and they gossip about Zayne's personal life.

Zayne likes Mitski.

Zayne's mom is super hyper and sometimes she says brainrot (acquired from Zayne's younger sister) to Zayne's horror and MC's admiration.

Zayne is autistic. His special interest is anatomy. His safe food is dessert. This one is obviously very surprising to my mutuals as I have never ONCE mentioned zayne's autism on my blog EVER, trust.

Zayne is bisexual but he's too busy saving lives to gaf about that one devastating homoerotic friendship he had in senior year of high school

Xavier plays the linkon equivalents of genshin impact and animal crossing.

One time, Xavier sleepwalked to the kitchen and cooked something, while STILL SLEEPING, and it was the first time he ever made something actually good

Xavier listens to mumble rap I fear.

He also listens to SZA though

In college he lost his virginity to this hot girl in his grade and he was so weirdly good at it that she thought he was a highly experienced fuckboy and Xavier just didn't correct her (he had no clue what he was doing the whole time)

Xavier has a tad bit of depression but it's medicated so now he's jus a chill guy

Despite popular belief, Sylus is not in fact a top but a power bottom, and a masochist to boot. This man whimpered when you pushed him down in one of his stories or cards, there's a whole card where you tie him up and step on him, and yet there's only four bottom sylus fics on ao3. It's getting critical, step up your game LADS fandom bc I can't until I reach legal age.

Sylus is a BIIIG fifties ballad and jazz kind of guy, and he sings it in the shower. He really likes singing Can't Take My Eyes Off of You in there (III LOOOVE YOUUU BAAAYYYBAYYY AND IF ITS QUITE ALLRIGGGHT I NEED YOU BAAAYYYBBBAAYYY)

Sylus fucking loves labubus. Little floofy grinning devious monster bunnies. He loves them. He will get them at any cost. This man has gone to mephistophelian lengths for a labubu and we love that for him

Once pulled up to a function wearing full drag because his opps tried to bomb a drag race and then he shot them (the opps) dead, still wearing everything. He's also a bi king

Rafayel is pansexual but like zayne he lowk dgaf about labels. He's also either intersex or genderqueer of some kind but idk which to pick so he's just rafayel ig

Literally no toxic masculinity in this man and def no like urge to not act "gay" whatever that means

Once told Thomas completely sincerely that he'd suck him off if he let him skip a function. The look of pure horror in Thomas' eyes has never quite faded since

Desperate urge to act nonchalant leads him to talk like that. His real voice is actually very expressive, but he never lets it slip.

Invited to all the chorus girls' nights at every opera house he's in.

Had a phase where he wanted to learn to pole dance so he had a giant stripper pole installed in his house and now it's just there i guess?

He still remembers how to poledance btw. He's just lazy

Caleb is actually delusional as fuck and listens to chase atlantic

Used to scare the shit out of MC when they were in HS by doing that thing maui from moana did with his tits like moving them one by one

His brain chip can play music with a certain trigger so when conversations piss him off he just plays We R Who We R by Ke$ha so he doesn't have to hear it

Caleb has watched every movie about planes ever, and his favorite movie is in fact Airplane.

Disney adult /derogatory

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[carlsangel]

CRUSH

carl grimes x adhd!dixon!fem!reader

(carl loves to hear about your hyper fixation.)

tags: fluff!

masterlist here!

(this takes place in season 4 at the prison!)

Growing up, you’d gotten interested in many things. You were really educated on a lot and your dad, Daryl honestly couldn’t keep up with it. He tried his best, since he’s a pretty quiet guy he’s a great listener. Although, sometimes you wished he’d give you some sort of feedback or maybe ask you questions about whatever it was you were telling him about.

Even after the turn he never really had time to talk about anything. He was always going on runs or he went out hunting. He was really important in the way the prison ran, so he was always busy. You always felt sort of anxious about it, you could never really talk or share your thoughts or explain the interests you loved. They were especially important now as most of your hyper fixations were what was getting you through it all.

You talked, and you talked a lot and there’s nothing wrong with that. But in a world that suddenly had gone quiet, it was hard for people to listen to you considering how adapted they’d become to the silence. You were like a burst of energy that most people weren’t exactly ready for quite yet.

Except for Carl.

He always thought you were the cutest and funniest ever, even when you were younger like at the quarry or the farm. There, you never really had freedom to be yourself because the adults would always tell you to hush and be quieter. That’s why at the prison, he loved to watch you be who you truly were. He’d seen you interact with the other kids at the prison and had gotten angry at them for brushing you off when you were excited about certain things and began to ramble. So, one day at the tables outside the prison, he did something not many people did.

He asked you your favorite book series.

You were ecstatic, even though you realize this may not an invitation to explain to him every bit of lore of the story, you were happy he’d even put in the effort to ask. You tried to stay as calm as possible. “It’s called A Series of Unfortunate Events…it’s quite complicated…” You explain shyly, not having really opened up to him like that before. Sure you’d gone through a lot with him but you stayed quiet a lot of the time because of how discouraged you were by adults.

“Complicated? How so?” He questioned. Which is exactly what you wanted. Your eyes widen a bit but you try your best to stay calm so you don’t completely scare him off.

“Well how much do you wanna know, I mean it’s quite a lot it could take me hours to explain and I’d feel quite bad if you wanted like a quick synopsis and not an entire look on the lore and…” Your voice trails off when you realize you’d been rambling. He however was admiring you completely. He found you so refreshing. “I wanna hear everything.” He tells you. Again exactly what you wanted. Was he always so cute? Or is that something you’d just noticed?

“I guess I could start with the basic information, there’s three siblings right, theres Violet who’s the eldest sister and she’s an inventor, she always ties her hair up with this ribbon and that’s how you know she’s gonna make something good...” You continue to ramble and smile at little details you explain. “Then there’s the middle child, Klaus who’s a boy and he is very intelligent, he remembers basically anything ever told to him which I somewhat relate to considering I get really interested at certain things but anyway,” He giggles at you a bit, enjoying everything in front of him at the moment.

“They also have a little sister Sunny who’s just a baby but they understand everything she says and she has these teeth that are super sharp even though it’s just four but she could probably bite off a finger if she really wanted to.” His eyes widen a bit. “A finger? Wow…and only four teeth?” He inquired, very intrigued at what you’re saying.

You continue to talk to him a bit more, explaining a good amount of the plot to him and he listened intently. You’d stopped for dinner but continued to talk with him during. At some point, Daryl had to come and pry you away from him so you could actually go the hell to bed. Carl didn’t want you to go, you’d already gotten him invested and he wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing what happened next. He also wanted to just spend time with you.

“Cmon s’time for bed.” Daryl told you, you then turned to Carl and a small frown was displayed on his face. “We can talk again tomorrow morning…if you want.” He immediately nods. “Yes- yeah I’d love to.” Daryl looks between the both of you, knowing how much Carl had admired you. He also knew that if Carl was listening and wanting to know more, you’d also admire him just as much. You smile at him and nod. Daryl directs you in the way of the cells and he stays back to talk to Carl.

“You got somethin for my daughter?” He interrogated Carl for a moment. “W-what?” Daryl looks back at you to make sure you’re far enough before continuing. “Those books…she’s been dyin to talk to me about those since I found em for her. Haven’t had the time.” He explains. “No one else seems to want to hear about it. What’re you up to?” Carl tilts his head a bit. “I just wanted to know her favorite series…I suppose I enjoy hearing her talk.” He smiles.

So Daryl left him alone about it. He was glad to know you had someone to talk to while he was busy.

The next day at breakfast, you were eating while reading back at the benches. Once he gets his plate he walks over and sits across from you. His paper plate hit the table with a bit a thud and you notice, looking up from the book. “Oh…hey.” You look up at him and smile, he takes a moment to respond as he’s quite flustered to see your smile straight off the bat. “Hi…which one are you reading?” He points to your book.

“The twelfth book. I’m kinda sad about it though…” You give a small pout and he picks up a bit of bacon to take a bite. “Why, cause it’s gonna end?” He chews his food and waits for your reply. “That and I don’t have the last book.” You fold the page’s corner, sort of a way to mark your place. Carl takes note of that. He does however feel horrible that you’re missing the last book. “Oh really? I’m sorry…maybe we can make up our own ending. Once you explain the rest of it to me.” He does his best to cheer you up.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to solve your problem. Although he was too young to go out scavenging, his best friend wasn’t. So after breakfast where you explained the second book to him, on his way to do his chores he stopped Michonne on her way out of the gate. “Do you think maybe if it’s not to big a deal you could stop at the library? I’m looking for a book.” He explains, not quite mentioning you currently. “Is this for your new old ‘friend’?” She questions, somewhat teasingly. He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yes. She’s missing the last book. The thirteenth.”

“The last book? Tragic. I know the series, I overheard your guys’ chats yesterday.” She smiles.

So she left and you didn’t see Carl till later that night in the cell block after dinner. He stopped by your cell with a small bag in his hands. He pushed the curtain open to see you lying on your stomach atop your bed, on the final pages of the twelfth book. “Almost done?” He sort of startled you but you immediately smile once you realize it’s him.

“Mhm.” His visit was rather unusual, usually you’d just talk to him during the day but not before bed. You sit up and make room for him to come sit beside you. “I got something for you.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a book, the thirteenth book. “‘The End?’ Really? How…I mean my dad’s been looking for it for me but-” You look up at him with a bright grin. You don’t really say anything before swiftly tackling him in a hug. He hugs you so tightly, all he wanted was to see you happy.

After pulling away from the hug, he reached back down into the back and pulled out a hook bookmark. It had a little arrow charm. Fitting for a Dixon to say the least.

“I mean…this makes sense.” You tell him, he laughs at your comment. “I just thought I’d have Michonne find you the last book. I’m quite invested in it myself. I love hearing you talk about it…I love hearing you talk.” He explains, sort of staring at you admiringly. You notice and look a tad skeptical, knowing there was something more appealing to him than just talking.

“I uh..I have a small crush on you…if that explains everything.” He admits, his face turning a light shade of pink.

You smile. “Yeah, I could tell.”

a/n: i thought this was quite fun to write, i love a series of unfortunate events muehehehe. anyway i hope this is what anon wanted, i did some good research for it to ensure it was okay :)) okay love u bye

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh

[cheriladycl01]

Back in my Day - Fernando Alonso x AustralianOlympicBoxing! Reader

Plot: Becoming a full time paddock WAG after pregnancy and a bad boxing injury and how you wouldn’t change anything in your life!

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks as he joins you in the motor home after just going fastest in FP2. He starts to pull you into a little sweaty hug, which you don’t mind as your used to it with you both being athletes.

“Miss what?” You ask walking round cleaning up after your guys son and daughter who were currently out getting ice cream with the mechanics.

“The adrenaline of a fight, the way the gloves feel, the smell of the ring?” He asks with a distant look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, sometimes I wish I could go back just to see if I’ve still got it. But there’s more important things in my life now than boxing and … I’ve made my country proud. I want to focus on everything I missed out on when I was younger. I want to see the world with you and our kids and I want to be a present mum you know, not of fighting in a boxing ring every week” you sigh, squatting while looking up at him, half cleaning half giving him your attention.

A loud sigh comes from his as he sets himself on the sofa.

“Why what’s got you thinking about this” you ask, standing up and taking a seat next to him with a pat on his thigh.

“I just … sometimes I think back to the incident with you and how worried I was seeing you that injured. I mean … I thought you died in that ring and I know it can’t be easy to watch me in the car and I’m just thinking maybe … maybe it’s time I think about retiring?” He asks almost quietly like he’s afraid to admit what he truly had been thinking.

“Fernando it wouldn’t surprise me if your 60 and racing and scaring the living daylights out of me” you laugh looking over him.

“I’m being serious, I’ve seen how … attentive you are with the kids … and me and I think it’s time I want that life too. I’ve been playing a F1 playboy for far to long. I want to come home, wherever that is as long as I’m with you, you are my home” he smiles and tears fill your eyes.

“Fernando I love you” you kiss him.

“How do you deal with not having it in your life anymore?” He asks into your neck, making it come out a bit muffled.

“Well I have a lot of other stuff that I focus on. And I still do it, I teach it in a gym to kids and I do training in our gym so it’s not fully gone. And the feeling of winning and improving after a loss is something that is more nostalgic than anything. I don’t miss it necessarily, but it’s nice to look back on and think of what I did. Winning gold twice and silver once!” You smile, looking up in a thoughtful way.

“Hmmmmm that sounds, kind of peaceful” he offers and you laugh a little.

“Yeah I guess you could say it is. But Fernando, racing is a part of you, like boxing IS a part of me. It never really leaves you, no matter whether that’s because you continue until you physically can’t and break the record for oldest racing driver, or you own a karting track in Spain and train the next generation … or you become a manager for our son who no doubt will be a world champion with the way he looks up to you or even doing a Nico Rosberg and become a journalist… but baby, the world of F1 will never ever leave you” you assure your husband.

“You’ve made me even more confused on my deduction now” he sighs laughing and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well whatever that decision is, I’ll be here for you” you smile.

“You know, I remember that one time, I think it was the 2012 Olympics in London, before the accident when you were so convinced you weren’t going to get gold and then you just all of a sudden had this ambition in your eyes … what was that” he asks.

“You, honesty. Your pep talk” you smile kissing his cheek.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks looking at you with the face of a lost puppy.

“That’s not a choice I can make for you my love” you smile at him patting his head leaving him to his thoughts while you go to find the kids.

Fernando stays with his own thoughts for a little before he saunters out to go find you.

As he rounds a corner he sees you messing about with the kids and Lance and it’s a sight to behold. One he can’t help but think he misses far to often.

But was he truly ready to give up his career.

“Papa” your daughter cries running over to her father the 6 year old not knowing much better than to rush off into the busy paddock lane to get to her father.

“Hello beautiful” he smiles as he picks her up, nuzzling her nose with his doing an Eskimo Kiss that they had done since she was just a baby.

Once his son came up to him, offering him an ice cream, that was starting to melt a little and starting to tell him how amazing he raced today his choice was clearer than ever.

Family came first.

y/user

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and astonmartinf1

y/user: Life Recently. Love my kids, guess the husband is okay 👍��

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astonmartinf1: MOTHER 👏🏼

fan1: omg I want her life so bad

fernandoalo_oficial: my gorgeous wife! I will ignore the caption!

-> y/user: you know I joke 🥰

fan2: her and Fernando bantering makes my life

lancestroll: when will I get to see the kids again!

-> y/user: next race my first son 🤣🫶🏼

-> fan3: Y/N and Fernandos first child Lance Alonso

hater1: gold digger

-> y/user: more like gold medalist … 🥇

Instagram Story Caption:

Back at it mate 🫶🏼 🇦🇺

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[st4rd0lly]

ＴＯＮＧＵＥＳ ＆ ＴＥＥＴＨ —

CONTENT WARNING : this fic series will contain DARK content , smut , age gap (reader is mid-late 20s while Nikolai is in his 30s) , probably inaccurate detective work descriptions , and religious themes. this does not follow canon and it is a non ability AU

chapter warnings : suggestive themes (angry sex gets mentioned once) ; firearm

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐖𝐇𝐎 ?

A detective.

That’s what you are.

Or well, that’s what you were. You had left that life behind you, swore on it. You weren’t a terrible detective by any means, quite the opposite. You were notably the smartest detective in your city. Sharp and witty, reliable and smart. That’s what you prided yourself on. But with making bigger shoes, you made yourself nearly look like a clown when you stepped out of them. All it took was one case, one case to make you step down.

And like that, you were out of the game.

With no interest to push yourself forward in your career, you sidelined yourself much to everyone’s dismay. You had people relying on you, people who needed you. But a normal life is what you desired after what felt like an action film that lasted forever. It’s what you deserved.

You didn’t lose all that much like you expected though. People still respected you for what you did, your ex-coworkers still treated you like their own, they still come to you for advice and you gave them your best. You became a mentor for younger detectives, a rowdy but loveable group who wanted to follow your footsteps.

You were content with the life you led. All trauma considered, you’d say you’re doing pretty solid for what you’ve been through going through cases.

You were happy for once, you were content with this domestic life you’ve made for yourself. 

"Someone tells me you’re sick of old games. Let’s play a new one. =)"

You repeated the note left on your window to your ex-work partner, Mikhail, on the phone. Staring at it with furrowed brows, you cursed to yourself. "I quit this shit for a fucking reason." With a groan, you slam yourself back down on the couch. 

"Did you check security cameras?" Mikhail questioned, groaning along with you. He’s been by your side since your guys’ first day together, two peas in a pod. You still remember the days where you were just young rookies together. You guys weren’t Sherlock Holmes and Watson by any means, but some might argue that your dynamic duo could come close.

Your face fell into a deadpanned expression, "You really think I wouldn’t?"

"Hey, I’m just trying to make sure we covered all bases. But knowing you, you probably already did that so I guess it was a stupid question— which is besides the point though." You could tell that he was just at a lost as you are.

"Misha, I wanted to leave this stuff behind me." You said, a little more solemnly than you’d liked to admit. "I thought after I faded out in the system for a bit, things would be okay for me. Sure, we’ve made our enemies—"

"You especially."

"Yes, me especially. But I know that most of them are in prison and the others are respectable enough to do this stuff to my face instead of… whatever the fuck that is. I wanted out."

"And you will be out. One day, I promise you." Mikhail reassures, his usual lighthearted tone softening. "Do you think it could be the same guy from our last case together?" He asks.

And you wished you had an answer. The last case you ever took on as an official detective left you in pieces that you’re still trying to pick up to this day. There were too many missing factors but so many were coming to a horrific realization. There were no hints one moment and then the next, there were. Each step closer you thought you took, set you 10 paces back with little time to catch up. That case had flipped your life upside down and around. Like some sick cycle. 

If it was the same bastard behind that case, you were sure that the old you would’ve jumped at the chance.

But you aren’t the person you were in the past, and you haven’t been for a long time.

Maybe this was exactly what the guy wanted, what they came here for. To wait for things to get calm till they could hit hard again. Or maybe, there was a chance that this note could’ve come from a new, completely different person. Someone who wanted to take out an old big shot to make themselves look even bigger. There was just too many open spaces with a huge gap of no information. It could be anything from anyone.

"I don’t know Misha, with the little to no info right now… it literally could be anyone." You admitted, not trying to even hide the defeat in your voice. Your brain searching, scanning, and recalling for anyone that stood out to you in your life. Someone who would mess with you like this, taunting from afar. It hits you like cold water in the morning. "Oh my god. What if it’s my ex?"

"You think you got yourself caught up in like a weird crazy ex revenge situation? What was the guy’s name again?" Mikhail questioned.

"Nikolai. Nikolai Gogol." You responded, rubbing at your temple. Fuck, if it really was Nikolai…

But that was so long ago, way before your last case. And that relationship was never going to last, the both of you knew that. You wanted different things, you two were different…it wouldn’t have worked out. Maybe he wanted Bonnie and Clyde, turn you away from the so called righteousness and justice that is detective work. Live out a life of crime. You never were aware of what he did for work, you were able to tell it was dangerous. And maybe in another life, he was able make you his Bonnie. 

You made sure that this wasn’t that life.

Thinking back to all the times you’ve spent with him makes your heart has plunge into your stomach. You were aware that he wasn’t the greatest person to date. You said through heated kisses and angry sex that it was just the rush, the thrill of it all in the relationship you had with him that kept you around. Each time he could only laugh in your face. All his talk about freedom definitely added a new perspective to your life, but it was so extreme. 

And oddly enough when you wanted to end it, he was very much less than pleased even though that’s all he’s ever wanted. To be free. He’s a walking contradiction though and he left your life without a trace. You refused to look back.

It wouldn’t make sense to mess up your life now.

….

When did he ever make sense?

"I’ll check in with the database, see what I can scoop up on him." Mikhail attempts to reassure you, though it does little to soothe your thoughts. He never knew about the complexity of your relationship with Nikolai. Just that it was strange. He didn’t know how dangerous he was.

But you weren’t about to tell him right now, not while it felt like someone was watching you. "Okay…"

"Did you ask your neighbors if they saw anything? What about that one neighbor across from you?" Mikhail suggested. "Take a picture of the note and I’ll drop by with some of the team by your place so we can investigate more. Better to not tamper with evidence so just use the picture to show your neighbors."

"Okay, yeah I’ll do that." You agreed, it wasn’t a bad idea. "Thank you Misha."

"I’ll be there in about fifteen. Go chat with your neighbors. Don’t die."

"Trying not to." You chuckled, hanging up the phone. You stood back up from the couch, looking at the window with disdain. The note was still there, staring back at you. Though you knew nothing was confirmed, you tried to find any hints of Nikolai’s presence. The only thing sticking out to you was the smiley, and that wouldn’t be viable evidence of anything. You shook your head, opening the camera app on your phone and snapping a picture. 

Now  that was done and over with. Time to talk to your neighbor.

Your neighbor was a relatively tall and attractive man you would say. You’ve never talked to him before, only seeing him for a brief moment when you walk to your car or when he goes out. Your window allows you a somewhat good view outside. Though you could also say that his appearance did make him stand out too. 

Tossing on a jacket, you hoped your neighbor wouldn’t judge too hard if you were in your pajamas. It was still early in the morning when you woke up to that note. 

You bite your tongue, you shouldn’t leave the house unarmed. Taking a quick trip back to your room, you put on your belt that you wear to do your mentor work. The one that’s meant to hold your firearm. You grab your gun in your drawer to put in your holster.

You opened the door, shivering a bit as the cool air hits your skin and hugged yourself tighter. Whoever put that note there must be really motivated to mess with you because who on earth would put a stupid note on a window when it’s this cold?

Taking a couple of steps towards his door, you placed a firm knock. You really hoped he was here. It would be an even shittier day if he wasn’t and you were waiting out in the cold longer than you needed to be. But thankfully, the door opens.

"May I help you?" The rich Russian accent caught you off guard, making you blink in surprise. You weren’t sure what to expect when he did speak but it wasn’t that. 

You gave the man an apologetic smile, "Hi I’m so sorry to bother you early this morning but I was wondering if you had heard anything strange late at night or earlier in the morning? Or if you had seen anything weird?"

The man looks down at you for a moment and you could tell he was studying you. His eyes were probably the most vibrant shade of a deep purple hue that you had ever seen before. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he had a good poker face you had to admit. He only tilts his head to the side, looking concerned. "I had not heard anything out of the ordinary. I usually am not here all that often because of work, but when I am here, I like to stay in my bedroom and rest."

He sounded genuine, and he definitely looked genuine. But those years you’ve spent as a detective grew your skills, and you’ve kept them sharp. You wouldn’t have been earnestly praised highly as a detective if you weren’t good at catching onto the small things. A blessing and a curse. There was something off about this neighbor of yours that you couldn’t place your finger on.

You couldn’t let him know that though, so you only shook your head again and waved your hand. "Ah, I’m so sorry again then. There was just a note left on my window and I was just wondering if anyone saw anything. It’s okay, thank you for your time."

"That sounds terrible, forgive me if I’m overstepping but are you certain it wasn’t your roommate playing some sort of prank?"

……

You could feel the gears in your head pause abruptly. You blink at him in confusion.

Roommate? 

"I don’t have a roommate?" You clarified, raising a brow at his comment. But he only reciprocates your confused expression.

"Is that so? I was sure you did. There was this man I’ve seen at your place before quite often whenever I’m here." He tells you, and your mind goes into a frenzy. What the fuck was he talking about? Was he talking about Mikhail? 

"I’m sorry, could you explain more?" You kept your tone polite, and it was obvious you weren’t expecting this. You were too distracted by the thoughts swirling in your head that you didn’t realize that you were shaking a bit from the weather.

"Here, you should come inside. I have some tea prepared for myself but there’s enough to share. I’ll tell you what I know. Part of it is that it’s bad manners to keep a guest outside in the cold." He opens the door more, stepping out of the way. 

Jesus, you really did want to stop being dragged into these games.

[callalillywrites]

Made up fic title: Pocket Flowers

Based on this ask meme.

It took me a bit to figure out how I wanted this to go, but I knew instantly who it belonged to. It's this guy ⬇️ and it's a little bit angsty but there's some sweetness mixed in.

Pocket Flowers

Steve's been a true gentleman since he was the littlest of little guys. His mama made sure of that.

Since he could remember, he'd pluck out the scraggliest and scrawniest flowers he'd find between the cracks in the sidewalk during whatever adventure he'd find that day. Those flowers would go into his pocket until it was time to go home, then he'd present them to his tired but sweet mama. He knew, even then, how much and how hard she worked to provide all she could for him. The flowers were the least he could do.

The tradition continues well into his young adult years, including those where she's secluded at the hospital when she contracts TB and must remain confined. He finds a way to get them to her each day, just so she might smile once that day.

Even after she dies and before he's recruited into the army, he would visit her grave on a regular basis to give her whatever flowers he's tucked into his pocket. Just for her. Just as he always has.

After the serum and everything with the army, his attention shifts to Peggy, but it's not a tradition he actually starts with her. It's not that he doesn't want to, but she doesn't seem the type to appreciate the simple gesture.

So it kinda just stops for a while.

He goes into the ice and comes out to a changed world. It's a world that he's trying to navigating to the best of his ability. Sure, he's making friends and making smaller connections where he can, but it's really not the same as it was before. It never can be again. Not truly.

During one of his trips through the city after spending some time at the Retreat, he finds himself a little listless and restless, seeking some type of connection he can call his own again.

He's traveling down one of the many streets he used to frequent during his younger days in Brooklyn when he comes across a small flower shop. It's the flyers taped to the windows that draw him in first. Each one promises the prettiest pocket flower designs he's ever seen. They almost look like someone painted them with the minutest details shown so clearly.

It's not even really a clear thought that has him stepping inside, his curiosity piquing.

Your sweet voice is a close second as its sweet melody calls out to him from deeper in the shop. He follows it until he comes upon you where you're working at the little table you've set up for yourself and all your designs. Several arrangements, big and small, surround you, but it's your sweet smile that has him closing the distance between you.

You share some small talk before you ask him what he's looking for.

When he flounders a bit but eventually points at one of your flyers, your smile turns into a pleased grin. You even go so far to hold out the one you'd been working on. Stepping away from your work area, you approach him and nod towards the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

His cheeks are bright pink even as he can't help staring at your hands. They're beautiful as they work, placing the small bouquet just so in his pocket. The soft fragrance of the flowers had him taking a deep inhale as old, bittersweet memories slammed into him.

Yet, even as they made their presence known, they mixed with the present. They brought with them a bit of hope that maybe not everything was different. Maybe he could find his footing again. Maybe, just maybe, he might find love in this new world and find it someone as sweet as you.

*****

Okay, this one went a bit longer than I thought it would, but I do hope you enjoy it. I did try to make this one more of a generic reader, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded. I'm a little out of practice. But, I had a lot of fun writing this one out. Thank you for sending me the title. 💖

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Reminiscing With Hunter

Hunter X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: Angst, all the feels, fluff

Word Count: 930

(A/N:) Okay I gave myself some major feels in this one. As I have gone through a lot of loss within the last 3 years this helped me heal just a little bit. I hope this helps bring a little bit of closure to the series. Though I loved the final season I was a little bit disappointed in how fast the ending came. It ended a little quickly (or I just didn't want it to end) but I'm so glad they got the ending they deserved. Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

It wasn't unusual for Hunter to disappear during the night, you had grown used to his disappearances during the waning hours of the night. As a soldier, created for one purpose in life, it wasn't unusual for his senses to overwhelm him. So in moments you would give him his space, but other times you would search for him. You had a way of telling whatever Hunter needed. As a leader, he had to be the guidance and rock of the team. Now he didn't have to worry about such things, but it had still taken it's toll over the years. This moment, finding Hunter's side cooling and him nowhere in the room and the solemnness that had overcome the tightknit family, you knew that Hunter needed you this time.

Searching for any signs of the aging clone, you noticed Batcher's absence as well. Normally the loyal creature was holed up with Omega. But even the younger girl's room was barren of her presence. That's when you knew, she was making good on her argument with her brother's this evening. You sighed deeply, breath hitching as your heart cracked. Passing by Wrecker's open door, deep snores echoing out into the hall, you knew Hunter needed you now more than ever.

Pabu was silent as the town slept on. You sat on the stairs a hot cup of caf in hand as you waited for Hunter's return. The stars above glistening brightly before a ship crossed over above your head, and you knew the blonde haired girl was making her own way in the galaxy. Batcher's padded steps alerted you to the return of Hunter. The Lurca snuffled your hand before heading inside. Though happy to see you, you could tell the creature was saddened by her body language. Hunter sighed deeply and you gave him a sad smile.

"Caf," you asked holding out the cup.

He nodded and took your offering, then took a seat as you patted the spot beside you. You had the uncanny ability to know just exactly what he needed. And caf answered a lot of life's more problematic issues. Though it warmed his body and alerted his senses, it couldn't heal the fresh wound in his heart.

"I take it she's gone," you sniffed, fighting back the tears.

"Yeah," he answered, taking another sip. "I couldn't talk her out of it. I didn't even try."

"She wouldn't have listened. That's why she try sneaking away," you replied. "She can't just sit by and do nothing while other's suffered. It's never been in her nature and," you nudged Hunter with an elbow, "she learned it from you."

"Doesn't make it any easier," he chuckled. "I still remember the first time I saw her on Kamino. I never understood why she was so drawn to us."

"It's because you guys were different," you paused. "Like her."

"Tech taught her a lot too. He was the best out of all of us."

You smiled, wiping a stray tear, "He was definitely a rebel. You probably shouldn't have let her spend so much time with him, he clearly influenced her."

Hunter nodded, grinning to himself behind the mug of caf, "I wouldn't change a thing."

"I wouldn't either," you agreed. "But you know Tech wasn't the only one she learned from. Echo had a lot to do with her to, Wrecker was a total enabler, Crosshair too when he wanted, and don't even get me started on you. You were like a father figure to her. You protected her and you taught her in your own way."

Hunter leaned his head back, taking a deep shuttering breath.

"What I'm getting to is," you grabbed his hand giving it a gentle squeeze, "she had good teachers in her brothers. In you guys. The Force is with her and her other brother is out there watching over her too. Tech is all for this and you know it. He goes with her wherever she goes and so do you, Wrecker, Echo, and Crosshair. She is a part of you and her you. It's a cycle we must live. We have them and then we have to let them go, whether that is in something they must set out to do or they end their race of life."

"That's the only reason I let her go," Hunter replied.

He finished his caf and set the empty mug aside. You held your arms out offering him the comfort he needed now more than ever. Hunter tugged you towards him setting his chin on the top of your head. His beard catching a few of your hairs. You cried softly, letting yourself free yourself from emotions, and Hunter wiped at a few stray tears. The galaxy such a vast place, you meet so many people and they make you into you. He never regretted for one moment having Omega in his life and that's why it hurt so much in letting her go. With one final squeeze Hunter let you go, wiping at wet eyes and cheeks.

You laughed wobblily, still drying tears. "Now this just raises the question. Who's going to tell Wrecker?"

Hunter shook his head, grabbing both of the empty cooling mugs, "I'm not."

"I'm not either," you argued.

He paused for one moment and you both stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Crosshair," you both said in unison making you both laugh.

With sorrowful but light hearts you both went back inside the warm home, hand in hand. Ready for whatever the galaxy threw towards your way next.

[n33dlew0rk]

Bad Boy Boogie

I’m thinking about how in The Dirt they depicted Vince Neil as someone who was not into the alternative scene as much as Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee were.

And I'm thinking about Steve being recruited in some glam rock band in a similar way after he’s been scraping the barrel for a few years because his poor excuse of a father kicked him out and cut him off for being queer:

He’s working dive bars, strip clubs, lame pool parties, whatever gets some food, smokes and the occasional joint on his table. He liked to sing when he was younger, but it was never something he thought would be one of his main income sources in his twenties. So it's like you know whatever, as long as it keeps him alive and kicking.

He’s not very social these days, too busy surviving the late 80’s. But someone from high school still remembers him from his King Steve days, knows what happened because of the typical small town talks + sees him kind of around the scene sometimes, between Indianapolis and Chicago, hears him sing lame slow ballads and chart stuff.

So after some laughs (he does not take the thing seriously at first) and some uncertainty (money is not guaranteed ofc), he gets recruited and slowly starts to fully embody this glam rock sexy kind of androgynous and ambiguously sensual charismatic frontman role.

They do good. Like really good. Papers talk about them, mothers pray clutching their pearls, kids go nuts. Their gigs are sweat, fishnets, smeared make-up, tall boots, short skirts, tight pants.

---

Now cut to Eddie and Corroded Coffin, still a small town band, still dreaming big. But someone in their extended friend circle, probably someone a little bit less socially awkward than them, knows someone in Indi, who knows someone in Chicago, who finally hooks them up to open for a bigger band on a small state tour. Only it's Steve's band.

Eddie is fuming.

Not only did a fucking jock got to get bigger in music faster than him, he also did it in a genre that was not popular among metalheads. Even Metallica had feuds with Mötley Crüe, after all. You know that thin veil of elitism that makes metalheads a real pain in the ass despite how intensely GAY most of Judas Priest’s lyrics are.

By the way, back to Eddie.

Fuming.

He doesn't wanna go. Pleads the guys to please have some integrity, for fuck’s sake. Tries to convince the owners of The Hideout to make them play more nights.

But when money is thrown into it, like actual money, money like a month’s worth of day jobs, he can’t really say no to the proposition.

So they go.

Eddie refuses to even listen to the other band's demos, determined to spend the entire tour playing his own set and then getting blackout drunk in the back of the van for the remainder of the night.

He manages to do just that for the first two nights, until he gets cut off from the free alcohol because the bar owner is a sad greedy bastard.

And since spending a whole evening sober inside a van is not nearly as fun as he thought, he goes back inside, searching for his bandmates, barely managing to move through waves of sweaty half naked people and groupies.

A disappointed growl leaves his throat as the lights go down while he’s still in the middle of the pit. Scorned and absolutely annoyed to the core, he turns towards the stage, fully prepared to boo his way to the side of the room.

So you can imagine how totally and utterly shocked he is when Steve fucking Harrington appears: red cowboy boots under the tightest leather pants ever created by humankind, held together by flimsy flimsy strings on the sides. A brutally ripped white tank top (more like a sad reminder of it) under a goddamned leather harness with spikes and chains, all of this on top of his hairy, toned (is that glitter??) chest. Black make-up beautifully ruined under his rich brown eyes, a shadow of red lipstick on his lips. A black bandana tied around his forehead like a crown over his messy mullet (still rich in volume, that’s a magic trick the king still brings along for the journey).

Eddie feels like a lost greek sailor hearing the sirens for the first time.

Mouth: dry.

Hands: sweaty.

Jeans: dangerously tight.

The place feels like a fucking furnace and he cannot, for the love of all things unholy, tear his gaze away from Steve’s body, his face, the way he cups the microphone, how he grinds on the mic stand, how he falls onto his knees during guitar solos panting in front of his guitarist.

Lastly, I'm thinking about when the show is over and a phantom trace of Eddie’s rationality tries to persuade him that Steve will turn back into his jock self, preppy clothes and all, like a rock'n'roll Cinderella; but instead Steve smiles big to the crowd, tears the bandana from his head, wipes away some of the sweat from his neck and then stuffs the very same black bandana right into his right back pocket.

Gareth and Jeff literally have to drag poor Eddie out of the venue because his knees are so wobbly they stopped working indefinitely.

[luxurious-anger]

I went out to the human realm for a bit just to look around the place & hang out. But, I also just had the weirdest encounter with two people.

A married couple that were both in their 30s looked pretty shocked when they saw me. It was a woman with a blue scarf & orange hair that also looked like a homeless person, since her hair was messy, her leggings had holes in them, & she had eyebags, too. & it was a guy with pink hair, blue eyes, stubble, & a tit window in his shirt. He's too old to be showing those off, put them away, you slut. I think their names were Mary & Arthur or something.

I actually mistook them for fans of mine, so I gave them an autograph & stuff. But, they actually got even more surprised from my handwriting. I think I heard the one with the scarf whisper something like "Even her handwriting is the same", or whatever.

Anyways, they kept asking if I remember them & why I looked different. I never looked different at all, this is just how I always looked. & they also kept calling me "Zoey", too! Like, who the hell is that???

They also said something about me being old friends with their daughter, that's why they talked to me. I think the brat's name was Dorky, or something stupid like that. Showed me a picture of her & everything. Small girl, dark skin, black hair, blue hoodie, prosthetic arm & leg, just a small summary. One, that kid was no older than 14 & I'm an adult, so there's no fucking way I'd ever be friends with her. Mostly because I hate kids. & two, why are those two her parents when she looks NOTHING like them? Ain't the brat adopted or something? If she is, then I feel so bad for her.

I don't know anything about those two, but just from the surface, they look like awful parents. Mary looks like a depressed, overbearing slob, & Arthur looks like he spends his time sucking dick rather than being an actual father. That kid needs to find better parents than those two, cuz I'm pretty sure they don't care about her at all. People who look like that just get a child just to make themselves look good, when in actuality, they just wanna suffocate their brat just to keep their fragile sense of control over every little thing they do. People who look like they crawled out of the ground like Mary & also look like sex-workers like Arthur make for terrible parents. & if you can't get your lives together, don't adopt a fucking child. That kid is gonna turn out like a real piece of work with a disgusting father & shitty looking mother like that.

But, for some reason, I did get a really weird sense of Déjà vu after hearing their names & voices. I couldn't explain why, though, I guess I just did. Maybe it was just two people I imagined when I was younger & living in the Celestial realm with the bros. I always did have really weird dreams up there......

Regardless, I just told them they had the wrong person & slithered out of there. This is exactly why I don't go to the human realm if it isn't for tours.

[doubleddenden]

Gen 2 mc and rival time. Fun fact: this was the first gen I ever played, so I have a bit of attachment to these guys

Old, but Gold, as they say. The first mc introduced for GSC, and like Red, he was the only one available for a time, so girls were a cool tomboy again until Crystal. There is no canon age given in game, but you could assume you're of similar age to Red given the similar stories. Depending on the official art, Gold can appear anywhere between 10 to 20 imo, but this one is definitely around 11, while the sprite is whatever- decent enough for a blank slate to either project yourself or make whatever you want of them.

The outfit is peak end of 90s, but still pretty cool. Note: the cap is backwards, you know this is the coolest kid ever. The design takes a lot of cues from Red in some ways, mostly the red and white with black hair- btw, Gold has always kept his darker hair no matter the era, so that's another way he one ups Red imo. The other way is that cozy looking hoodie with a HUGE pouch up front, the cool backpack, the poke gear on the SLEEVE, and them shoes. Bro what even are those? They look cool as hell, but they also look like they'd be jet propelled or in Shadow the Hedgehog's closet. The shorts are fine, not really my choice and I'd prefer pants, but the colors kind of go well with it. And let's not overlook that blue pokeball- pokeballs were still ambiguously designed and capsule like back then, so that could be anything from a Great Ball to a Lure ball. All in all, a Certified Fresh TM look. 8/10. His anime counterpart, Jimmy, is also cool. Cyndaquil coded

Crys wouldn't come until Crystal, and a lot of younger players may only recognize her from Masters these days, but this is the first playable girl character in the franchise. Her look is pretty unconventional for most MCs, which makes her stand out a bit more, and I personally really like the design- which is why I feel bothered when they replaced her with Lyra. The anime kind of changed up the colors, but her counterpart with Marina is also just a fun character, especially her dynamic with Jimmy.

Design wise, she's also ambiguously aged according to the games, although I'd clock her between 13 and 20, making her a pretty decent blank slate character. I even remember my older sister kinda excited because she looked cool and older than Gold, who I would identify with. Anyway, the outfit is certainly uniquely and barely attached to this plane of existence, but it is certainly a sporty look, and the bike shorts are a fun addition. The jacket is also just really cute, if not the best kind of impractical. The hat, I will say, doesn't really work, but it's still a classic part of her design. Her hair is also just really fun and super unique, being the only mc to have a non natural shaded hair color- although Dawn comes close in anime art. At least Masters acknowledges her as separate from Lyra, because Crys is just a really good design that I feel is a shame it got swept under the rug for so long. 9/10

Next we have one of, if not my favorite rival just in terms of personality and progression- keep in mind that GSC were already pushing the GBC's limits. ???- er, Silver is what a lot of people think of when they say they want an Asshole Rival tm- just a jerk, belittles you, is just plain rude, and you get to beat his ass and feel good about it. Not like most modern rivals that praise every little thing you do, talking about their hopes and dreams- and then you yourself crush em and they smile about it. Nah, Silver was a shit talking piece of shit that really made you wanna get better just to beat his ass, and imo was the original ambush rival. For as much as I like him as a rival- especially the later lore we'd learn about him having a huge chip on his shoulder as Giovanni's son- I wish his team was better balanced.

Both a Gengar and a Crobat- well more like a Golbat, but you can actually see character progression after Johto when it finally becomes a Crobat due to high friendship. Still, that's two psychic weaknesses. A Magneton- I feel like like you could probably do better by giving him something like a Scizor, Skarmory, or Steelix if you really need that steel type rep. Alakazam would be a decent choice if they didn't already use it for Blue, but it's still okay, I just think if you have Gengar then you should sub one or the other with something. Then of course, Sneasel, which even in gen 2 wasn't really doing any favors, and I feel was just added to give him a little guy tm. Of course, the opposite starter that happens to be stronger- stealing it btw, that is pretty intense in comparison to how others get theirs, and I do appreciate that he even tried to give it back later. It's a difficult team for Johto- but you're also going to the championship with teams in their mid 30s at this point.

As for design- peak late 90s bully. Long hair cuz he just don't care, and his outfit is almost just like gen 1 Blue's as far as color goes, but it fits looser and he has different shoes. It's a simple get up, but you can tell he's a dark abd edgy individual, and his striking red hair really helps him stand out as well. A solid 9/10 for me

And now to the HGSS redesigns

"Ethan" is more or less just Gold or Jimmy in an updated art style- this era was probably the most recognized as Pokemon's true art style before getting experimental in gen 7. Age wise again depends on the art, but you're probably looking at an 11 to 15 range because of the face. In sprite form, it's easy enough to overlook to make as a blank slate. I also feel like the design is simple enough that most girls I know played him because they didn't like how Lyra looked, so I guess you could have another tomboy time if you use your imagination.

The outfit is basically just Gold's but improved. The jacket actually makes a little more sense and has some additional details like a collar and zipper, while the Pokegear still rests on the arm. The hat is the same, but beta shows they actually wanted to add a symbol to it- probably ditched due to sprite limitations on the DS, which is fine because this is a cool hat, very Ultra Ball vibes. The backpack is certainly sleeker, but I can't imagine it holding too much. From the waist down is brand new to this design, with better pants imo. The shoes kinda match the design, but I also think different colors would have worked better, simply because white shoes get dirtier easier. Overall this is a pretty fun redesign that stays faithful without the fear of changing too much. 9/10, I would probably wear long pants.

Next is Lyra, the new girl on the block nobody really asked for imo when Crys was right there. Lyra I think is fine enough as the role she plays as a quirky friend in the game with her Marill, but I don't really think of her as a protagonist. Design wise, it is cute, probably a reasonable 12 or 14 just eyeballing the design without in game data to tell us otherwise, but that tighter age range does make it harder to project imo, and the design overall isn't really a blank slate. Still, cute, like if Mario had a niece. The hat is huge, which I'd probably shrink a little, maybe add some more white or black to her shoes, and maybe re use Crys's colors instead. This is a rare instance where the FeMC isn't as good or better than her counterpart, imo. 6/10 as a player character, 7 as a side character.

We end things off with the redesign of this asshole. You can certainly see a better resemblance to Giovanni in the face and demeanor, and he looks more confident and slightly older. I think the clothes are fine, maybe I'd prefer the original top, but it's basically just another Silver. What I do dislike is the redesigned hair- there wasn't really any reason to make him look like Roark or Mars from Sinnoh imo, and Legends Arceus doesn't really add to this either by way of ancestry with Arezu (although I'd certainly make sure she had PLENTY of descendants if you know what i mean AYO). Imo they should have kept his old hair- in a beta for hgss, it actually looked like that was the plan as well. I wonder what the deal was? Eh, 8/10 regardless. Still my favorite asshole rival

Gen 3 next, and that one will be both simpler and complicated

[littleclosetofbyler]

it was me, i was mike

Hello world.

So I got around the byler rabbit hole around 13 days ago (backed up by a comment on the first byler yt video i watched, kinda crazy), and everything went downhill from there until two or three days ago when i realized something extremelly curious: I was Mike Wheeler once.

Now, you might be asking yourself "the f is this woman into" but hear me out: everyone has a past.

So I will tell you a little bit about myself and my first friend crush.

I was around 15-16 when it started, year 2005, she was two years younger than me and my best friend. We went to the same school, she was really really smart, we would hang out because we both liked anime and books and games. Basically I asked her to be my friend during recess one day, of course when you are 15 the interaction goes more like "hey i heard you like anime, me too, wanna hang out after this?"

And hang out we did. A lot.

Fast forward a few years we are in full friendship with me being around 18 and dumb as f. We would go everywhere together and all was great, until I met one of her friends, a guy who was just kind of cool, but I actually just liked his name.

I started dating him, because I had nothing better to do, and my friend and I were okay for around a week, and then this guy asked my friend how he could make me kiss him... and my friend cut me off.

Like that. No longer friends.

In january was her 16th birthday, I called her on the phone and asked why we were no longer hanging out, I told her I missed her and she gave me the answer that has been with me for over 15 years already: "Our age gap is too big".

At the moment I was sad and weirded out, we were friends, best friends, what the hell happened. Until a few weeks later I talked with another friend, a wise dumb kind of guy who told me the second answer that has been with me for years: "She liked you".

I was 19 when I understood my feelings for women were more than platonic, I was 19-20 when I had my first everything with women. I was 19-20 when i came out of the closet.

But when I was 18 and she liked me, I was just... oblivious.

I used to make jokes about gay people, I had a lot of internalized homophobia, I thought things were not very logical at all. It took me years to realize that my "looking up to X older girl" was not a common universally straight experience, not in the way I used to do it. It took me even more years to realize that my first idealization of a "wet dream" was not the man, but the woman in the blue dress and high hair.

A few years more, of should I say, many years more, is what it took me to realize a lot of other things; looking back, my relationship with her was never completely "normal", not for two girls in my country at that age in the year 2007.

Hidden messages, special presents, a folder full of drawings, german music, a little too close in all the photos, sleepless nights on her bed, ice cold tea specially for me, holding hands while watching anime in the darkness of a movie theater, almost hugging while a kiss happened in those movies, sleeping on my shoulder, except that she was never really sleeping.

We were everything and we were nothing, platonic friends only.

Today I am 34, and an openly not straight woman (lesbian? bisexual? I don't know, i don't care).

When I lost her I did not only lost my best friend, I lost so so much more, and it was probably the cathalist for everything that came after.

I miss her to this day.

So I understand the universal not straight experience of the crush on a friend as well as the being the crush of said friend, and let me tell you, I was Mike Wheeler, remember that guy I told you about? Well, I told him I loved him (can´t actually even remember if this happened exactly like this), because he insisted I never said it.

I have never been in love with a man, I am not sure I even ever feel anything for a man beyond platonic whatever.

So, whenever I see people say that Mike Wheeler just can't be gay, or be or anything... oh my sweet summer child, he can be, because I was, at the same age, in a not conservative contry, in 2008; why do you think it might be impossible in the 80's in a conservative town in a pretty conservative country?

Dunno, just asking.

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here) (part three here)

(CW: character experiences a severe derealization episode)

“D’you want me to order pizza?” Oli asks, somewhat redundantly, because Martyn is twenty-two (according to the police report) and a gamer, of course he’s not gonna turn down free pizza.

“Oh, god, yeah,” says Martyn. And, a second later - “Please.”

He fires up the Domino’s website obediently, pulls up the deals and picks one that’ll leave him some leftovers for when Martyn’s long gone tomorrow. Meateor for himself, as usual, and then he spins the laptop round on his knees to present Martyn with the options. “What are you having?”

Martyn stares at the screen, unblinking, for a few too many seconds.

“... Something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, just. Um. Been a while.”

“D’you just want a margherita, then? Keep it easy?”

“No, I don’t - I was -” he grimaces, shakes his head roughly, and thumbs at the fabric of his shirt where the tea stain sits “- trying to remember what I liked.”

“Vegetarian?”

“No,” Martyn responds immediately.

“Olives? Mushrooms?”

“I’m not picky -”

“Pineapple on pizza?”

Martyn snorts. “Okay, yeah, I don’t much like pineapple on anything, I’ll give you that.”

“But as a concept.”

“No problem with it.”

“Then, Marty, my friend, you’ve lost the plot.”

He sits another moment, deliberating. Then - “Sweetcorn.”

“Yeah?”

“I like sweetcorn on pizza.”

“Alright,” says Oli, and spins the laptop round again to check the options. “Vegi Supreme or Chicken Feast?”

“I’ll take the chicken,” Martyn says, resolute.

Oli sends the order through, with potato wedges on the side, because it’s his money and he’s gonna pick the extra items for the deal. Then, once the little order tracker with the fake AI has popped up and started telling him stupid jokes to amuse him for the next 25 minutes or so, he turns back to look at Martyn. “Can I ask something?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ask what?”

“And you don’t need to tell me if it’s, like, personal or whatever, just… what were you eating? If you haven’t seen pizza in however long?”

Martyn makes a face. “Whatever, honestly. It wasn’t a big worry for me - I mean, not like I could - yeah, it was just whatever. Not dead yet, so I’m clearly not malnourished.”

Oli cocks his head. “Whatever like whatever you were given, or whatever like you were scavenging?”

“Like - uh - like - I mean, I wouldn’t say scavenging, that’s - like whatever I could find? I know I’m not explaining this very clearly, it’s -”

“No, no, I said you didn’t need to tell me! Don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” (It’s not like Oli doesn’t want to know, but he doesn’t need to know if it’s going to make Martyn uncomfortable to explain it.)

“Anyway. It wasn’t bad, it was just… y’know how Covid makes it so you can’t taste anything? Little bit like that.”

“Original Covid did. I don’t know about all the new variants.”

“Ah, yeah, heard about those! Did they ever run out of Greek letters?”

“Don’t think so, thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” Martyn nods.

Beside Oli, the little Domino’s robot lets him know that their pizzas are now going in the oven.

It feels odd, to be sitting here on the sofa, taking an extended lunch break with somebody who he’s only known from Minecraft servers and scratchy in-game prox chat. It feels odd to know that he’s doing hospitality for a man six or seven years younger than him, a friend who’s never answered out-of-character about himself before today. It feels odd to know that he’s actually looking at the real Martyn - not some rat, not some pirate, just… some guy.

Oli swallows and steels himself for what he’s about to say. “Erm - again. Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But… besides this whole Doc thing, what was your life like? Your normal life?”

Martyn’s expression flips into something unreadable for a second, then mellows again into neutrality. “Yeah, uh - nothing special, really. Born and raised in Nottingham, did alright at school, got the grades for uni but I ended up deferring. I was trying to get a job in my gap year but I didn’t really wanna end up behind the counter at GAME or McDonald’s or anything, and nowhere else ever got back to my applications, so… spent a lot of time at home, playing video games. No girlfriend, no mates who really stuck after college; not much worth writing home about. I wasn’t much of anything, really, not then.”

Oli is, he decides, going to ignore the implications of that comment. “Family?”

“Mum, dad, sister who’s been moved out for a few years. Dog. Oh, I hope he’s still alive, that’d suck if I never see my dog again.”

“Fingers crossed,” says Oli.

“What about you? What’s the home life of OrionSound like, when he’s not at the computer?”

“Oh, Marty, my entire life is at the computer,” he quips. “I work in software development. I actually did my degree in psychology, but you’d be surprised, there’s not a lot of room in the market unless you’ve done a load of other certifications as well. I guess I could have got a therapy licence, but as it turned out, I’d spent enough time in first year making terrible visual novels that by the time I got into the workforce I technically knew how to code. AI snapping at our heels now, of course, but it’s probably gonna eat itself by Christmas, so I’m not too worried about that.”

“I dunno,” says Martyn, “I’ve seen some pretty advanced AI.”

“So, yeah. I spent a few years freelancing, contracting for one place or another - I’m quick, which people seem to like, although that’s mostly so I can get back to gaming as soon as possible. And then… like two and a bit years ago? Yeah, would’ve been two years this past July… then I got a really nice position at CHESTCorp, it’s mostly remote work, I drive down to London every few months so they can “review my performance in a controlled environment”, whatever that means, and they pay well enough that I can afford this place on my own, which is -”

Oli stops talking when he notices Martyn’s face has gone white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I knew it,” Martyn murmurs.

“What?”

“I knew it,” he says again, stronger, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, I knew you - I thought - he told me this would happen, I’ve seen it happen, I should’ve just learned from my mistakes the fucking first time, but clearly I’m stupid.”

“Marty, what are you -”

“Didn’t wanna believe this shit could follow me out here, but evidently it - oh. Oh, no, no, you fucking - it’s not over, is it? I’m still - that’s why nobody picked up the phone, it wasn’t real, you couldn’t synthesise my mother’s voice, I’d know! You’re CHEST, of course you’re CHEST, the one person I thought - I mean, I hoped - you’re fucking cruel, is what this is, it’s cruel, and you’re not fooling me twice. Don’t know how you got the food this realistic, but -”

“Martyn,” Oli tries to interrupt, “are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Martyn says through gritted teeth. “You’ve given the game away now, CHEST agent. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. Should’ve known I couldn’t get out that easy. Or you caught up before I got out, one of you fuckers, planted something, or - I don’t know, made me think I was finally out of this stupid place. Made me think it was fine so I’d start giving up secrets. Well, you’re not getting another word out of me, you fucking idiot. Some interrogation room you’ve got here, huh? This your best simulation? Get a better model for your TV, I’ll tell you that for free, the reflection’s too smooth.”

Well. Er. “Martyn,” he tries again, “I think you might be having a flashback?”

“Nothing back about it, you bastard. Giving me false hope like that. Thank god I don’t actually know Doc’s name, or you’d have been able to track him too, wouldn’t you? Fuck you. Don’t ever bring my family into this again, any of you.”

“Okay,” Oli says slowly, rifling through his psychology knowledge for grounding techniques, “you think this isn’t real, right now?”

“I know it isn’t real,” Martyn spits, “and it’s getting worse the more I’m poking at it. See, look -” he stomps a foot at the floor “- you’re losing resolution trying to keep it running.”

The carpet, which has not changed and is certainly not lower resolution than it was when they got here, endures being scuffed at. Oli doesn’t want to actually lay a hand on Martyn right now, though; he’s got a bad feeling that’ll end in something much worse than being kicked. Instead he dips into the kitchen across the room, pops an ice cube out of the tray faster than he’s ever needed to, and brings it back over to the sofa. “Here,” he says, chucking it at Martyn’s lap, “that real enough for you?”

Martyn catches the projectile reflexively. He stills, silent, both hands cupped around the ice cube, staying in the air.

Then, gradually, his eyes unfocused… his arms lower.

He opens them and stares down at the piece of ice in his palm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, begins to rock forward.

The Domino’s tracker chimes again. Their food has finished cooking, and it’s being delivered by Amal. Oli almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Whatever Martyn’s running from, it must go a lot deeper than he thought.

(part five here)

[bookstantrash]

A/N: This took a while to post even though it had been written for quite some time lol sorry. It is also the last already written fic I had and the last RED TV titled one (for now, I’ll absolutely write more in the future, one day)

I have an Emerie centric fic that I hope I can finish writing soon now that I am on a break from uni, but I make no promises given my record track I also plan to start studying for my bar exam so there’s that

Anywaaaaays hope you guys enjoy some soft Nessian!

But I don't wanna dance (if I'm not dancing with you)

It had not escaped Nesta’s attention how her husband sometimes left their bed in the late nights. After their talk about his nightmares —  after how he had promised to wake her up and talk when he had a bad dream — his disappearances had become irregular and rare. But recently he had begun to take longer to go to bed, finding excuses to make her lay down before him, or even waking up before the sun had even risen. Nesta knew Cassian was used to waking up with the first rays of sunlight, while she preferred to sleep in — although the early morning training sessions with the Valkyries made her wake up a bit earlier then she would have preferred. However, now he was awake before even the sun had made an appearance and well, she would be lying if that did not bother her.

She had tried to wake up early with him to discover what he was up to, but that had proved to be impossible very quickly. She was not a morning person at all, and all it took was Cassian leaving some kisses on her neck and shoulder, whispering for her to go back to sleep and promising pancakes to make her burrow herself in the furs and mumble that “they better have chocolate chips or else”.

Nesta had also attempted to find where he disappeared to late in the night, something that was turning out to be more difficult than she had expected. Although the House was big and had more rooms than they would ever use, she had made sure to investigate each and every one of them whenever she had the time.

She found nothing. It was as if Cassian’s disappeared to a different dimension, making her reach one conclusion: the House was Cassian’s accomplice in whatever it was that he was up to.

The fact that the House —  who in nine out of ten cases sided with her — had decided to cover up whatever it was that her mate was doing left her puzzled. And, if she was being honest, a little shocked. And betrayed. But if Nesta Archeron was known for something it was for her cunning mind and ability to charmspeak her magical house with smutty books.

So she bid her time, waiting for Cassian to slip off of their bed at midnight while she pretended to be asleep, leaving a kiss on her temple. She waited for a few heartbeats, her Fae hearing making it possible to listen to his footsteps disappearing completely. When she was sure he had left, she threw back the covers and, opening her bedside table’s drawer, grabbed a wrapped package.

“I know that you and Cassian are hiding something from me” Nesta said to the House but all she got in response were the faelights flickering thrice.

“No? You don’t know what I mean?” she shrugged, waving the package around “And here I was, debating letting you read Sellyn Drake’s newest romance before me…”

That made the faelights turn on and shine brightly, and Nesta knew she had gotten Its attention. Having two younger sisters — one of them who liked to prove herself at every opportunity available  —  she knew exactly what to say to get what she wanted done. She didn’t even have to resort to the courtier techniques her awful mother had drilled into her since she learned how to talk.

Nesta could still remember when they lived at their mansion in the human lands, their mother and father gone for the weekend for some stupid engagement party of some even stupider high ranking noble family at their snobby generations old countryside manor.  By some small miracle their horrid grandmother was absent and the governess had gotten sick at the last minute, and with little time to hire someone, they had to make do with only the maids, who were less rigid and mean than what Nesta and her sisters were used to.

And they had enjoyed that weekend to the fullest. Nesta thought that had been the only time they had truly been able to be just children and enjoy themselves. And with that came a closeness and sisterly attitude that was usually lacking between the sisters.

Feyre had pulled pranks on them, hiding behind doors and jumping to scare them, or leaving fresh paint in Elain’s porcelain tea set, making her get her hands all dirty.

Elain had retaliated by baking Feyre’s favourite muffin — an indulgence reserved solely for her birthday, given that “ladies do not eat sweets all the time if they wanted to maintain a proper figure” — but using salt instead of sugar, adding a bit of some spice their father had brought back from one of his travels. Feyre had spit the muffin and chugged an entire glass of water to wash away the taste.

Nesta remembers the cook’s dejected face after seeing the mess Elain had left in his kitchen, having listened to Elain’s pleading eyes and letting her roam free in the otherwise forbidden space.

Meanwhile, Nesta had simply said to five year old Feyre that they “would play statue” and had gotten herself the rest of day to read in peace as her littlest sister was set on “winning the game”.

In conclusion, all she had to do was apply a similar tactic to the House.

“But well, if you insist that there is nothing going on…” she shrugged, opening the drawer and putting the book inside again.

Nesta was about to close the drawer when the book disappeared, the door to her room opening and the lights flashing, as if to say “follow me”.

Works every time, she thought with a sly smile, sliding her robe on as she left her room.

The House guided Nesta through the hallways, making her stop in front of an empty guest room she had previously checked.

“Are you sure Cassian’s in there?” she asked, for a second doubting whether the House knew where Cassian went or if It only wanted to read the smutty book first.

The fae lights outside flicked twice, and Nesta saw the door changing, becoming wider until it was a double door, definitely the kind that did not open to guest bedrooms.

“You glamoured yourself?” she said in disbelief, but the House merely opened a sliver of the door and flicked the fae lights again, as if to say ‘go on, I told you where your mate is now let me go back to my smutty book’.

Shaking her head, she approached the door, spying the room through that tiny crack, her eyes widening at the scene she saw.

Her husband and mate was dancing.

Nesta could see the Symphonia playing in the corner of the room while Cassian danced, stepping on glittering footsteps that showed what he should do and where he should go.

“I think I might be getting the hang of it,” he said with a small satisfied smile “But I don’t know about my arms… It is a bit weird to keep them in position without holding something…”

Pursing his lips, Cassian shook his head.

“Maybe I should have asked for a dummy to practise with…” he furrowed his brow “House, do you think you would be able to make it happen, please?”

However, the House had other plans. No sooner had Cassian spoken, the door suddenly opened all the way, making Nesta stumble into the room and come into her mate’s view.

“You little traitor!” Nesta hissed under breath.

“Nes? What are you doing here?” he arched an eyebrow “I thought the House was on my side for once, but I guess I was mistaken.”

“Well, It did end up bringing me a rehearsal partner so I suppose I am not completely upset at my surprise being ruined.” Cassian added with a lopsided smile, walking towards Nesta and grabbing her hand, bringing her closer with a slight tug on her waist.

The faelights inside the room flicked once, the door closing and the Symphonia starting a new tune. Nesta figured that was the way of the House saying ‘my job here is done, do not bother me until I am done with my book’.

With the Symphonia playing a new melody, Cassian pulled Nesta into the song with him.

“This is the first time you’ve led,” Nesta noted. Usually, she would be the one to take the lead and Cassian would follow her.

It was a bit unusual for the male partner to be the one following instead of being followed, but that had never bothered him. Cassian always let Nesta take the lead, not just when they danced. He knew her strengths and weaknesses. He knew she could take on her own fights and defend herself, but that did not mean that he left her all on her own. He was always there beside her, cheering her on, being there to support her but also give her a different perspective on things. Sure, they argued sometimes, just like every couple. However, they would not have gotten where they were and their relationship would not be what it was if they didn’t. At the end of the day, they always reached an understanding after voicing their opinions. And well, if that sometimes led to some makeup sex neither of them were complaining.

“Am I doing it well, Nes?” he asked, twirling her. 

“You are doing okay I guess,” she answered, trying not to fuel his already big ego even more. But Cassian was indeed dancing more smoothly than the other times. Now, it resembled like when he was lost in the dangerous and deadly dance of fighting he displayed in training. Like when Nesta had stood atop a little hill and watched silently as Cassian rained down upon Hybern’s armies.

“Liar,” he purred, spinning her so her back was against his chest, “I would like to think that I am doing it well after all that practising, but shadow dancing is definitely not the same when you dance properly with a partner.”

Nesta could not see his face, but she knew. She knew just from the way his voice trembled a little, some false bravado and swagger put on it. She knew from the way his end of the bond seemed to waver in uncertainty, just a bit. And she remembered the very first time they had danced together, when he had all but pushed Eris aside while asking for her next dance. At the time, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her when she saw his hand trembling slightly but maybe… maybe it had not been her imagination.

Did Cassian also practise in secret before that day? Had he been nervous that maybe it had not been enough and that he would end up embarrassing himself in front of her? Had that been why he had seemed so unsure and anxious despite the brave face he portrayed?

“You are right, it is different to dance with someone in comparison to dancing alone.” Nesta said, turning around so she could look into the hazel eyes she loved so dearly “But you are my mate, so of course you are dancing well.”

That had Cassian opening one his brightest smiles, his end of the bond singing and shining.

“But why not ask the House for a dancing partner from the start? It is not the most impossible thing for It to do” she wondered, thinking about all the things the House had made out of thin air on other occasions.

“Well, I am a mated male now,” Cassian answered, dipping her in time with the last note of the song “I was hesitant to dance with anyone else”

“Cassian, it would not be a real partner” Nesta replied, rolling her eyes fondly at him.

He brought his face closer to hers, still holding her in the dipped position. But Nesta was not worried about falling. She knew that her mate's strong arms could hold her that way all day if she asked.

And she also knew that he would break her fall if he was to lose his balance somehow.

“What can I say?” he kissed her, smiling against her mouth “I don’t want to dance with anyone apart from my wife.”

And a month later when the Night Court went to a ball being held in Winter Court to celebrate the birth of Kallias and Viviane’s daughter, Cassian showed off the results of his practice, dancing with Nesta the entire night.

•

tag list: @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @katekatpattywack @nestaarcheron @imagine-me @sv0430 @starryblueskies7 @live-the-fangirl-life @valkyriewarriors @readskk @wannawriteyouabook @imwritingthesewords @rainbowcheetah512 @moodymelanist @castielspelvis

[Reblogs/likes/comments are always welcomed!!]

[draganwhorror]

Okay, you guys, I just have something I need to say. I may have been drinking a little bit, and I'm feeling sentimental all of a sudden. This post is probably going to be a rambling mess of nonsense, so feel free to ignore me while I wax nostalgic and turn into a mushy, messy idiot (and probably get a bit too personal)...

I just want to say that I appreciate you guys. All of you. Whether you only recently started following me or have been with me for however long, I appreciate you all. I appreciate the likes and reblogs, the kind words, and the overall support you guys give my fics and gifs. It really, truly does mean so much to me, even though I sometimes feel like a crazy, obsessive weirdo or a terrible writer, or even a worthless sad sack human being (which stems from my childhood and carried over into the very end of my twenties, and is a much-too-long story to tell).

I was never popular in school. Ever. I was shy, quiet, a bookworm, a band geek, a nerd, etc. I wore glasses starting in...I wanna say third grade (think those big, thick plastic ones) and usually had my hair in a ponytail because I hated wearing it down. I never wore makeup or nice clothes. Most of what I wore came from the Goodwill, a local thrift store, or (if my mom was feeling indulgent) Kmart.

The town I grew up in was small (like 3k population) and filled with a lot of stuck-up, snobby people. Most of these people had money/came from money. Their kids were spoiled brats. It was a small town, but it was a small town for more well-to-do people. And I wasn't one of them. My mom was a single parent with three kids (twin daughters and a younger daughter), and she... Well, she wasn't a good person. No drugs or alcohol. Just... not a good person.

Because I was "poor" and had used clothing, glasses, and didn't bother trying with my hair (and I wasn't allowed makeup because my mom didn't want me "whoring around" as she phrased it), I got made fun of pretty much every day starting in middle school. There were times in 7th grade when guys would pretend to be interested in me, and even though I knew they were lying, I still went along with it and ended up getting hurt by their words and laughter.

High school was the worst. I had my first boyfriend my freshman year of high school (1999-2000). He was a junior, but he wasn’t very popular either. He was in the marching band, was a computer nerd, and he liked me. That was three strikes for him. We’d sit together at lunch, and the girls would whisper behind our backs, snickering and laughing. The guys would throw food at us. It wasn’t very pleasant. Especially because there was one day (I still remember it vividly) where a group of popular kids were throwing French fries from their table, and a few got caught in my hair (I'd worn it down that day), and I didn't realize it because I'd been trying so hard to ignore them, so I walked around with these fries in my hair for a good...almost 10 minutes before someone took pity on me and helped me clean up.

I broke up with my boyfriend right before school started again(we started dating in February 2000 and I broke up with him in August 2000). He was extremely hurt(I was ashamed of how I did it, but I have since made peace with him), and he ended up dropping out of school his senior year. I know that wasn’t really 100% my fault, but I still regretted letting the other students and my mom get under my skin to the point that I thought being alone was better.

There was the time I tried out for cheerleading, thinking if I could get involved in that, I wouldn’t get made fun of as badly or whatever. So naive. I didn’t make the squad because, according to the captain (who was one of those stereotypical rich, stuck-up snobby bitch types), I wasn’t pretty enough. Those were her exact words (and I remember them still because they hurt so much even after I gave it my all and was really proud of myself).

Instead, I involved myself with band, chorus, dinner theatre, school musicals, creative writing club, and participated in the Shakespeare play we did my senior year (Macbeth, and I managed to snag the role of Lady Macbeth, which thrilled me to no end). I was a bit of a teacher’s pet my senior year(only with the Algebra 2 and English teachers), so the popular girls just made fun of me more for being "too smart" and "too nerdy."

When graduation came, I was beyond thrilled. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and finally have some peace, maybe start over, etc. I felt accomplished. And I wasn’t going to let anyone bring me down like that again.

But then I got stuck in a rut. My mom became even more awful, and I stayed under her control until I was 20 and met a guy. I was desperate to get away from my mom, and this guy seemed super kind and caring, and he offered me a spare room in his apartment. I took him up on the offer. After 6 months of dating, we moved to the complete opposite side of the state where he was originally from (and where I still live almost 20 years later). But that was the beginning of the end for niceties and kindness. He ended up showing his true colors a little over a year into our relationship. He was an abuser (mostly verbal, but occasionally physical) and a manipulative asshole. But I stayed with him because I thought if I gave him enough chances or enough love, eventually he'd change and become nice again. How stupid and naive I was...

Anyway...

Now that I’m done with that long-winded pile of word vomit, I’ll get to the point (if there even is one, 'cause I honestly don't even know what I'm prattling on about anymore).

I guess... just the fact that I have people on here who send me kind messages, enjoy my writing, and like my gifs…it’s just…I don’t even know. I may have only met a couple of you in real life, but you guys are some of the greatest "friends" I’ve ever had. And sometimes I just feel so unworthy of being your friend. So it really means a lot to me that you guys stick around and put up with my craziness.

All of those years of being teased, put down, made fun of, etc, have made me very self-critical and self-conscious. I still don’t believe people when they compliment me or anything like that. I think, “What is wrong with you? I'm a boring plain Jane who will never be pretty enough or skinny enough or good enough for anything.”

Now I’m not saying any of this to brag, or to get sympathy, or to fish for compliments, or anything like that. That's not why I posted this. It was mostly just something I needed to get off my chest. It honestly does mean so much to me that you guys are all so lovely. I truly do appreciate each and every one of you, and I wish I could hug all of you. Thank you for your support and your kindness. 🩷🩷

[24hlevi]

— strawberries & cigarettes

claire redfield (resident evil) x gn!reader

summary: how it would be dating claire

warnings: language

— first of all, claire would be the best girlfriend ever, no doubt about it

— she probably asked you out first and the one to make things official between you two

— she uses strawberry chapstick and kisses you every time after she puts it on knowing how much you like it

— a fucking tease is what she is with anything involving you getting flustered because of her, will literally nudge you like “awe what? can't say anything anymore? you were so confident a second ago” with a smirk on her face

— that being said, if you were to get her flustered in any sort of way she would push you away (affectionately) and try to act like she isn't bright red in the face over what you did or said

— claire pretends like she hates matching couple items but bought you guys rings and necklaces for an anniversary or christmas

— on the topic of holidays, claire is a mess when it comes to picking out gifts for you, but whatever she gets you in the end she feels you’ll like, and you always do! she just over thinks a lot about it

— she loves every gift you give her also, and will hold them close to her and genuinely cherish each one even if it's just something small

— chris likely had a long talk with you before you and claire became official with him threatening you to not do anything to her which she just pushed him aside and told you not to worry about him as he glared at you

— claire will insist on driving you everywhere strictly to show off her motorcycle, also because she likes having your arms around her, she won't ever admit that though but it's true

— claire can cook a little bit, not big extravagant meals or anything but enough for variety and to keep you two alive, she never makes breakfast though because she is always sleeping in

— in private, claire loves cuddling with you whether it be on the couch or in bed it doesn't matter, her arms are wrapped around you and legs entangled with one another

— in public, claire is okay with PDA but keeps it to a minimum, she will hold your hand and give light pecks for kisses but nothing more or she will get embarrassed

— claire doesn't like fancy restaurants or anything like that, so for anniversaries she would much rather do something fun than just a nice dinner that you guys can hardly afford, plus she doesn't have that nice of clothes for those occasions

— at first she isn't the best at reassuring you if you're upset about something but as time progresses she gets better at it and will suggest to get food or watch a movie to get your mind off it

— if you guys ever have an argument she's very vocal while it's happening but is quiet afterwards, and she's likely the one to go to you first and admit she was wrong and you were right, it takes a lot of effort though

— sometimes she will just come up behind you and start kissing your neck, wrapping her arms around you and muttering about how much she loves you

— claire remembers pretty much everything you tell her, there are small things she forgets every now and then but otherwise she remembers

— if claire could sleep in all the time she would, unfortunately for you she doesn't let go of her grip until she wakes up so you are stuck in bed with her likely hours after you've woken up

— claire adores surprise kisses, whether she's giving them or receiving them she loves it all the same

— she's great with kids, so if you have a younger sibling they probably love her but she kinda sucks at watching her cursing so you will have to tell her about that otherwise she's great with kids

— after the bullshit of racoon city she went through, there are random intimate moments where she expresses how grateful she is for you still being here for her and that nothing bad happened to you during that time

— those times would probably be the only times claire cries in front of you, she doesn't cry a lot, but thinking that it could've gone so wrong in that one day is enough for her to start tearing up

— claire does love you a lot, and she shows it in all the possible ways she can, she may come with some trauma, but she loves you more than anything else