#I really can't say enough good things about it

[postracehair]

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

__

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[saikenakoego]

Last one before I try doing it with another character (and before i force myself to get back to work on art and stuff lol)

With the usual lady herself. The scourge of the undead and the paranormal alike. Hunter of monsters. Breaker of bones (and hearts). EATER OF RARE HAMBURGERS.

The unwilling vampire, Sammy!

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv This gal! vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

This one is really long, so I'll be dividing them by sections like the original!

Appearance

1. What is your favorite physical trait that you possess?

SM: If I could, I'd be feeling flustered right now. But since I can, I'll just say something at random.

SM: ...

SM: Hair.

2. What would you wear if they told you you had to gussy up?

SM: ...

SM: I AM gussied up.

3. Is there anything about your appearance that you would change if possible?

SM:

SM: Hope that answers your question.

4. Do you have a favorite material that you like to wear?

SM: Denim or leather. Easy to wash, hardy enough. Hides bloodstains.

5. What's your opinion on scars?

SM: I miss them.

6. How much do you take interest in trends?

SM: More than I'd like to. Apex predators have to stay at the top of the game.

SM: Oh, you mean fashion trends? About the same. Even if I don't feel anything, I want to look my best when I put the bloodsuckers back in their graves.

7. Is there someone you try to look similar to?

SM: Myself. From about 2 years ago.

8. Do you have a physical trait that you're known for?

SM: Take a guess.

9. What do you smell like?

SM: Wouldn't you like to know. Good enough, is what I'll say.

10. If you could splurge on a particular garment, what would it be?

SM: Sunglasses. Or a new jacket. Anything that can help keep me cool.

11. Is your favorite color a color you wear often?

SM: Yeah.

12. Have you gone through major stylistic or physical changes?

SM: I guess you could say somethin' like that.

13. What is something you would refuse to wear?

SM: Anything degrading.

14. Is there a style you're afraid you can't pull off?

SM: Average.

15. Would you wear something someone else picked for you?

SM: Silver picked this outfit for me. It's easy to move in and looks good, so I don't mind.

16. Is your appearance more telling or deceiving?

SM: What a way to ask about it. Hopefully the first one.

17. What are your thoughts on wearing costumes?

SM: It's been tainted for me, the whole "human pretending to be a monster" thing. But if it's for innocent fun, I try not to mind.

18. Do you have a favorite outfit?

SM: I feel like I already answered this.

19. If you had to get a tattoo, what would it be?

SM: Crucifix. Practical reasons.

Objects

1. Is there an item you don't like to live without?

SM: Crucifixes. Have to keep them upside down, though.

2. What gift would you give to someone you didn't like, but felt obligated to?

SM: Something as cheap as generic as possible. A card or something.

3. What object is likely to catch your attention?

SM: The answer is inside you. Literally.

4. Is there an item you liked that you can't get back?

SM: Don't think so. None that I recall.

5. Would you ever try to haggle?

SM: Depends. For what?

6. Is there something you're proud to own?

SM: I can't feel pride anymore. But I used to brag a lot about my cd collection.

7. Do you ever spend more time than you have?

SM: I have all the time in the world. But I do spend more time than I should...

8. What would it take for you to give up an item you like?

SM: A stake, or cash. Depends.

9. Do you prefer to give or receive gifts?

SM: As long as they're useful, receive.

10. Is there a type of object you don't like?

SM: Anything that can cause bodily harm. And I don't mean to myself.

11. What might an acquaintance think is a good gift for you?

SM: Burger.

12. Do you personify objects?

SM: No, but I know someone who does.

13. What do you most enjoy shopping for?

SM: Nothing in particular.

14. Is there an item you're embarrassed to own or want?

SM: Again, I can't feel embarrassment anymore.

15. Would you prefer something bought or made personally?

SM: Something that functions.

16. Are you willing to ask for things?

SM: Who isn't?

17. What is most important to you when shopping?

SM: Keeping an eye on the budget. Unlike some people I know.

Food and Drink

1. What flavor would you say your personality is?

SM: Bitter.

2. Would you prefer baking, cooking or mixing drinks?

SM: Cooking. No one seems to get it right for me.

3. Is there a food or drink you're unwilling to try?

SM: Their... "specialty".

4. How big is your appetite?

SM: One appetite too big.

5. Do you consider eating fun?

SM: These questions make me angry.

6. Would you consider eating something you didn't like just to appease someone?

SM: No.

7. Is there food that has made you sick?

SM: Not anymore.

8. What is your favorite food group?

SM: Food has groups?

SM: ...Why?

9. Do you like to try new foods?

SM: I sure hope I did.

10. What is a childhood meal you cherish?

SM: ...Burger.

11. Are you food-motivated?

SM: ...

SM: Really?

12. Which meal time is your favorite?

SM: The final kind.

13. How much do you care about wasting food?

SM: Very. My mother raised me well.

14. Do you prefer restaurant or home-cooked food?

SM: Restaurant. For the time being.

15. What food or drink do you consider a treat?

SM: Burger...

16. Is there a food texture you don't like?

SM: Liquid, viscous and slightly oily.

17. What kind of drinks do you prefer?

SM: Water.

Weather and Nature

1. What would you do if you were suddenly caught in the rain?

SM: Find a place with a roof.

2. Have you ever had a meaningful encounter with an animal?

SM: If I have, I can't recall.

3. What season would you say you're most similar to?

SM: ...What?

4. Is there a natural phenomenon that scares you?

SM: I don't feel fear. But for sake of the question, I'd rather not be involved with any right now.

5. Have you ever had an animal phase?

SM: Don't think so.

6. Do you enjoy sky-gazing?

SM: I don't mind it when Johnny asks me to join him. That's about it.

7. Do you have a good sense of direction?

SM: Yeah. Par for the course.

8. What type of environment do you like best?

SM: Not too hot, not too cold.

9. Are you good with animals?

SM: Animals tend to run away from me. Don't blame 'em.

10. How would you react to snow?

SM: Just 'cuz Vegas is in a desert doesn't mean it doesn't snow. The place is literally called Nevada, por dios.

11. What part of nature do you most resonate with?

SM: The supernatural has no place within the natural world.

12. Could you survive on your own in the wilderness for a week or more?

SM: Depends on the place. Probably.

13. What element best represents you?

SM: Darkness.

14. Do you prefer hot or cold weather?

SM: Cold. Reasonably cold.

15. Is there a creature that scares you?

SM: No.

16. What celestial body interests you the most?

SM: The sun.

17. Are you good with plants?

SM: About as good as anyone.

18. How willing would you be to nap outside?

SM: Unwilling.

19. What animal would you say best represents you?

SM: A mosquito.

Community and Relationships

1. Do you prefer company or solitude when sick?

SM: I don't get sick.

SM: ...

SM: But Silver being a pest during... that, wasn't so bad.

2. What is your favorite kind of social event?

SM: None.

3. How comfortable would you be with singing and dancing in front of everyone?

SM: I would not care. Though it would be better if I got something out of it.

4. Are you upfront about your feelings?

SM: If I had any.

5. Who would you seek first if you needed medical help?

SM: Nobody. For their sake.

6. How willing would you be to go to a party with people you don't know?

SM: If it leads to something useful, willing. Otherwise, rather not.

7. Who are you most honest with?

SM: Silver.

8. How likely is it for you to initiate a friendship?

SM: Unlikely.

9. Where is your comfort place?

SM: ...Home.

10. Is there a habit you've learned from someone else?

SM: Less learned and more forcefully conditioned into me.

11. Do you think you have people who would worry about you if you got injured?

SM: Yeah. Somehow.

12. How would you react to being put in a position of leadership?

SM: I don't like it.

13. Would you be good at providing medical assistance?

SM: Would a starving bear be good at it? Carajo.

14. Who would you say knows you best?

SM: Silver. Maybe a little too much.

15. Is there a person you would turn to for backup in a fight?

SM: The boys. Either of them, for different reasons.

16. Who would you most like to sign your cast if you got one?

SM: If I were able to get a cast? Everyone, probably.

17. How well do you work with others?

SM: Well enough.

18. What is your favorite form of affection?

SM: Minding your business.

19. Do you enjoy celebrating holidays?

SM: I really don't care.

20. What would it take for you to get into a fight?

SM: Not much.

Mind, Body and Soul

1. What is a habit you have that others might find cute?

SM: I don't think anyone would ever find me cute.

2. Are there any particular sounds you're fond of?

SM: Heartbeats.

3. Are you more prone to fight or flight?

SM: Fight.

4. Do you believe in myths and fairytales?

SM: Do you?

5. What words could tear you down?

SM: None.

6. How well do you act under pressure?

SM: Pressure isn't something I'm familiar with.

7. Are you good at practicing self-care?

SM: That's not a luxury I can afford.

8. What do you find most comforting?

SM: Not comforting, but I'd rather be left alone.

9. Do you have any allergies?

SM: No.

10. Are you a light, medium or heavy sleeper?

SM: I don't need sleep.

11. Do you have a strong willpower?

SM: Given how everyone around me remains safe and ignorant, I'd say yes.

12. Are you more likely to give advice or take it?

SM: Johnny seems to ask me for advice often, and I can't understand why.

13. How do you relax?

SM: I don't.

14. Is there a secret you long to hear?

SM: The method to end this madness.

15. Do you have a sleep routine?

SM: I used to.

16. Would you feel confident in a fight?

SM: Why would you be in a fight otherwise?

17. Are you more energized in the morning, afternoon or at night?

SM: Night. Self explanatory.

18. How often do you have nightmares?

SM: ...Often.

19. Are there scents you dislike?

SM: Blood.

20. Is there a fear you'd like to learn to overcome?

SM: I fear nothing.

21. If you had to act in a play, what role do you think you'd perform best?

SM: Background character. A tree or something.

22. Do you have a high pain tolerance?

SM: Pain is a quality of the living.

Hobbies and Activities

1. What kind of games do you most enjoy playing?

SM: Silver introduced me to Castlevania. Good game.

2. Do you have a secret hobby?

SM: Its a secret.

3. What talent do you wish you had?

SM: The talent to end this quickly.

4. Is there an activity you used to enjoy that you now dislike?

SM: ...Hard to decide.

5. Which do you prioritize more, work or hobbies?

SM: Work.

6. Do you work better with creative or technical endeavors?

SM: Direct endeavors.

7. What is a talent you're proud of?

SM: The talent to brutalize all these parasites.

8. Are you more outdoorsy or indoorsy?

SM: ...

SM: "Indoorsy".

9. What is a topic you'd be exited to talk about?

SM: Again. Can't feel excitement.

10. Is there a skill that you don't know you're bad at?

SM: I-- What?

11. Do you have any injury story?

SM: Fine. Since you're so insistent. Let's see, I've been stabbed and maimed multiple times. I've had my limbs torn one by one. I've been cut in half. Decapitated. Had my bones broken. One time I had to gouge my own eyes out. Had my tongue pulled off. My neck broken. I've been ripped apart, and one other time I was eviscerated. Then I got flayed. Had my skull caved in, my mandible displaced. And lately I had my brains blown out with my own friend's gun.

SM: Oh, and this one time a creep bit me and drank my blood. But really, it didn't hurt. Happy now?

12. What kind of music do you enjoy?

SM: I used to like pop. But lately, I've been subjected to hours of rock music by Silver.

SM: It's not so bad. The guttural screams keep my... mind off things.

13. Have you ever made something for yourself or someone else?

SM: I used to cook often.

14. What is your opinion on cheating in games?

SM: A necessary evil sometimes.

15. How good are you at following through on projects?

SM: VERY good.

16. What's an activity that reminds you of someone else?

SM: That's... I don't wanna answer that.

17. Do you prefer music or silence?

SM: Its complicated.

18. What is something you wouldn't wanna talk about?

SM: I don't want to talk about it.

🌸My Super Long Hopefully Fun Character Ask Game:

👕Appearance

What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess?

What would your character wear if they were told they had to gussy up?

Is there something about your character's appearance that they would change if possible?

Does your character have a favorite material they like to wear?

What are your character's opinion on scars?

How much interest does your character take in trends?

Is there someone your character tries to look similar to?

Does your character have a physical trait that they're known for?

What does your character smell like?

If your character could splurge on a particular garment, what would it be?

Is your character's favorite color a color they wear often?

Has your character gone through major stylistic or physical changes?

What is something your character would refuse to wear?

Is there a style your character is afraid they can’t pull off?

Would your character wear something someone else picked out for them?

Is your character's appearance more telling or deceiving?

What are your character's thoughts on wearing costumes?

Does your character have a favorite outfit?

If your character had to get a tattoo what would it be?

📦Objects

Is there an item your character doesn't like to leave without?

What gift would your character give to someone they didn't like but felt obligated to?

What type of object is likely to catch your character's attention?

Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back? 

Would your character ever try to haggle?

What is something your character is proud to own?

Does your character ever spend more than they have?

What would it take for your character to give up an item they really like?

Does your character prefer to give or receive gifts?

Is there a type of object your character doesn’t like?

What might an acquaintance think is a good gift for your character?

Does your character personify objects?

What does your character most enjoy shopping for?

Is there an item your character is embarrassed they own or want?

Would your character prefer something bought or made personally?

Is your character willing to ask for things?

What is most important to your character when shopping?

🍽️Food and Drink

What flavor would your character say their personality is?

Would your character prefer baking, cooking or mixing drinks?

Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try?

How big is your character's appetite?

Does your character consider eating fun?

Would your character eat or drink something they didn't like to appease someone?

Is there food that has made your character sick?

What is your character's favorite food group?

Does your character like to try new foods?

What is a childhood meal your character cherishes?

Is your character food motivated?

Which mealtime is your character's favorite?

How much does your character care about wasting food?

Does your character prefer restaurant food or home cooked food?

What food or drink does your character consider a treat?

Is there a food texture your character doesn't like?

What kind of drinks does your character prefer?

🌤️Weather and Nature

What would your character do if they were suddenly caught in the rain?

Has your character had a meaningful encounter with an animal?

What season would your character say they're most similar to?

Is there a natural phenomenon that scares your character?

Has your character ever had an animal phase?

Would your character enjoy sky gazing?

Does your character have a good sense of direction?

What type of environment does your character like best?

Is your character good with animals?

How would your character react to snow?

What part of nature would your character most resonate with?

Could your character survive in the wilderness on their own for a week or more?

What element best represents your character?

Does your character prefer hot or cold weather?

Is there a creature that scares your character?

What celestial body would interest your character the most?

Is your character good with plants?

How willing would your character be to nap outside?

What animal would your character say best represents them?

🤝Community and Relationships

Does your character prefer company or solitude when sick?

What is your character's favorite kind of social event?

How comfortable would your character be singing and dancing in front of others?

Is your character upfront about their feelings?

Who would your character first seek if they needed medical help?

How willing would your character be to go to a party with people they don't know?

Who is your character most honest with?

How likely is it for your character to initiate a friendship?

Where is your character's comfort place?

Is there a habit your character has that they learned from someone else?

Does your character have people they think would worry about them if they got injured?

How would your character react to being put in a position of leadership?

Would your character be good at providing medical assistance?

Who would your character say knows them best?

Is there a person your character would turn to for backup in a fight?

Who would your character most want to sign their cast if they got one?

How well does your character work with others?

What is your character's favorite form of affection?

Does your character enjoy celebrating holidays?

What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

💓Mind, Body and Soul

What is a habit your character has that others might find cute?

Are there particular sounds your character is fond of?

Is your character more prone to fight or flight?

Does your character believe in myths and fairy tales?

What words could tear your character down?

How well does your character act under pressure?

Is your character good at practicing self-care?

What scents does your character find comforting?

Does your character have any allergies?

Is your character a light, medium or heavy sleeper?

Does your character have strong willpower?

Is your character more likely to give advice or seek it?

How does your character relax?

Is there a secret thing your character longs to hear?

Does your character have a sleep routine?

Would your character feel confident in a fight?

Is your character more energized in the morning, afternoon or at night?

How often does your character have nightmares?

Are there scents your character dislikes?

Is there a fear your character wants to learn to overcome?

If your character had to act in a play what role would they think they’d best perform?

Does your character have a high pain tolerance?

🎲 Hobbies and Activities

What kind of games does your character most enjoy playing?

Does your character have a secret hobby?

What is a talent your character wishes they had?

Is there an activity your character used to enjoy that they now dislike?

Which does your character try to prioritize more, work or hobbies?

Does your character work better with creative or technical endeavors?

What is a talent that your character is proud of?

Is your character more outdoorsy or indoorsy?

What is a topic your character would be excited to talk about? 

Is there a skill your character doesn’t know they’re bad at?

Does your character have any injury stories?

What kind of music does your character enjoy?

Has your character ever made something for themselves or someone else?

What is your character’s opinion on cheating in games?

How good is your character at following through on projects?

What’s an activity that reminds your character of someone else?

Does your character prefer music or silence?

What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

[faggotisaacfloofs]

the person who helped today when I fell out of my wheelchair actually did a really great job, so I want to share in case other people wonder what to do. [Note: this is not universal, this is merely a suggestion from one person, every wheelchair user's needs are different! I am a person who uses a manual chair usually pushed by someone else who is also disabled.]

Scenario: you see someone in a wheelchair fall out of their chair, and you have the ability to help.

1. Approach and ask "are you okay?"*

2. Next question if they say no, are vague, or open to continuing conversation** is, "is there anything I can do to help?" Or "what can I do?"

If they say no to help, then that's the end, just leave and go do whatever you were doing!

If they ask for help or say they are mildly injured, ask "what would you like me to do?" And wait for an answer before doing anything! If they seem dazed or confused, they might have hit their head or had another medical event*, or they might just be like that due to regular disability. Be patient.

Do not touch the person unless they say to, or they are like, unconcious in the middle of the road, ya know?? Wheelchair users usually have conditions that mean being handled improperly can severely injure us, you could cause much more damage than the fall.

Some things they might need you to do:

Bring their wheelchair closer (mine went about 5 feet away after it dumped me)

engage the brakes of the wheelchair

hold wheelchair steady if it's an unsteady surface (mud, hill, ramp, wet, etc)

offer an arm for them to hold onto to get up (them grabbing you, not you grabbing them) or move another solid item closer for them to use (i.e. a chair) [only do this if you physically have the ability to!]

If the terrain is rough (i.e. a parking lot), they *might* ask you to push their chair to a more stable area once they are back in their chair

nothing

Something else

Do what they ask, NOT what you think would be helpful. If for some reason you have to do something (i.e. you can't stop oncoming traffic and need to get them out) ASAP, tell them what you plan to do

Keep in mind they might also be D/deaf, have a communication disability, be stunned after the fall, have a head injury, not trust other people, etc. Be patient and treat them as a person with autonomy and agency! They might need to just sit on the ground for a few minutes to recover before trying to get back in their chair. They might want everyone to leave them alone. They might ask you to call someone specific. Their chair might have broken and that can be extremely distressing. All of this is like if your legs spontaneously stop working when you're out and about!

A lot of wheelchair users (NOT ALL) have ways to get into their chair on their own once the chair is close enough and brakes engaged (but it's hard from the ground!). Here's what brakes look like on a lot of manual wheelchairs, in case they ask you to lock the brakes. They're levers on each side and pushing the lever pushes a bar against the wheel to hold it still.

ID: A manual wheelchair with the brake levels circled in red and labeled "user brake levers"

*There is also the possibility of course that a person fell out of their chair due to a seizure or other medical event, so that is why it is important to ask if they are okay. If you saw them hit their head, tell them so. If they had a medical event, follow protocol for that, I'm not gonna get into it here (thought I could).

**sometimes a person will be clear after the first question i.e. "I'm all good thanks" clearly means they do not need you to ask another question, you can just leave them alone. Keep walking and don't stare. A lot of the time people will be a bit banged up but be totally fine and able to manage on their own.

TLDR: Ask the wheelchair user if they're okay, then what they need, and then do exactly that, including leaving them alone. Thanks!

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- when you ask them for an absurd amount of money as a prank

SCOUPS:

will transfer you the money, no questions asked. unless it's like an insane amount of money - like enough to buy a car - then he'd be concerned and ask why you need it. are you in trouble? are you being blackmailed? what can he do? he's ready to assist you in anyway possible and will be sulky when he finds out it's a prank. relieved, but a little sad that you'd even feel the need to test his loyalty to you.

JEONGHAN:

his immediate reaction is no. have you guys seen that interview where one of the members (i think it was dino? mingyu? my memory is so bad) said that jeonghan doesn't play when it comes to money and it lowkey stingy? yeah that. he'll definitely be hesitant and might even just flat out say no. extremely proud when you reveal it was a prank all along. i knew it was a prank, baby~ the student can't fool the teacher~

JOSHUA:

his immediately worried something terrible has happened. it's uncommon for you to ask him for money, usually its small enough sums that you don't even have to ask - you have his card anyways. stressed and annoyed when you tell him its all a prank. ai~ you know my weak heart cannot take you stressing me out.

JUN:

a little confused why you're asking him for money. he's the type to not catch on, you being in danger isn't the immediate thought when you ask him for 300 thousand dollars. will not react when you tell him it was a prank, the request for the money hasn't even properly computed in his head yet.

HOSHI:

he's going to complain he doesn't have that much money even though we all know he does. he'll agree to transfer it to you, but will whine and nag the whole time that this is his hard earned money! he loves you but why are you taking it away! another type to get sulky when you tell him its a prank and you don't actually need the money.

WONWOO:

ummm...why? he'll ask a shit ton of questions before agreeing, he needs to know why, when, what, where, who? all the details. this is his money after all, he needs to know where its all going. it gets to the point where you give up, just telling him its a prank cause his questioning isn't making it fun anymore. he tsks and asks if you have too much time on your hands to be pranking him.

WOOZI:

the money is in your bank account before you even finish asking. he's lowkey surprised you haven't asked sooner, he's always open with how much he's making and constantly tells you he'd just rather you guys have a joint bank account so he can spoil you. refuses to let you return the money once you admit its a prank. he makes more than enough anyways.

MINGHAO:

another one that's immediately worried. money's never been a topic you guys have ever talked about so he knows there must be something wrong. asks a boatload of questions trying to make sure you're okay and not getting scammed online or something. ends up just chiding you for even falling into a trap where you need that much money and narrows his eyes at you when you tell him its a prank. he thinks you're crazy and has too much time on your hands.

DK:

poor baby's scared. sure he makes a lot of money but he's never needed that much. eyes are popping out of his head when you tell him the sum of what you need. he agrees, of course, anything for you, but his hands are shaking as he reaches for his wallet. dramatically flops onto the floor when you tell him its a prank, begging you to never do that again - he might be rich but in his mind he's got like 5 cents in his bank account.

MINGYU:

blinks. pretends to think about it, but really he's been waiting for this day. the only possibility in his mind as to why you need the money is only for good things, and who is he to not spoil his baby? begs you to take his card anyways when you tell him its a prank. it's literally the only reason why i work, baby. just take my card.

SEUNGKWAN:

he's dramatic, screeching about how that's an insane amount of money and that he wouldn't even drop that kind of money on himself- and he loves himself very very much! calms down and genuinely sits your ass down to ask why you even need it. feels extremely betrayed when you tell him its a prank and vows to get revenge.

VERNON:

he sighs. he knows this trend and he's not having it. baby, you know i'd do anything for you right. you've got me like wrapped around your finger. you literally don't need to test my loyalty. apologizes when you get sulky over him already knowing the prank and offers to let you try again - this time he'll play along. ohmygod that's a lot of money are you being blackmailed? shopping in the black market? getting us a house in Bali? shrugs when you complain about his reaction being ingenuine and over the top. there is only so much he can do.

DINO:

his jaw is dropping at how large the sum is. yeah, he's got that money, and he'll show you his bank account just to prove it. but he'll start listing out what everything is for. that sum's set aside for our house, that one's to send our kids to school - we never said how many we'd have but i set aside enough to four university tuitions, and- you'll cut him off cause he's going to make you cry with how thoughtful he is. scolds him for ruining your prank. prank? he's confused. what do you mean prank? he got so invested in telling you everything he's saved up for your shared future he kinda forgot the original question.

[eimearkuopio]

Also I know a lot of my students who are non-native English speakers definitely used AI for the first draft of their work, and some of them then didn't do enough editing/refining for it to no longer count as cheating. They're legit allowed to use AI in a limited capacity! But they have to tell us how much they used it and they still need to submit something that is of a better quality than "whatever the AI spewed out" to get a good grade. It's not racist to point out that in the UK, many of the ESL students aren't white! They're not Americans from non-English-speaking households, they're kids from other countries who know that a UK degree will give them a greater social cachet when they go home; and that's true, but the students who got their degrees pre-COVID had to do far more work much more limited tools, and I know most of our students are fucked up after COVID, but I've heard horror stories of Engineering* students who can't do the maths that they need to do in order to build things that will not collapse and kill people, so there's really only so far we can give people a by based on the aftermath of COVID. Especially if they think they can build a career on whatever nonsense chatgpt spews out.

AI is the new version of the electric calculator. It's disrupting our existing paradigm, and to insist nobody ever uses it would be foolish and doing a disservice to our students who will have access to AI in their careers. But we need to come up with new assessment methods, and I can tell you from the inside that we are working our asses off to try to do that properly in a way that assesses student ability meaningfully and in a way that is consistent with current technology. It will take time. But you wouldn't believe how much some academics genuinely care about doing their job properly. In my case, I care about it so much that when colleagues' fuck-ups made it impossible for me to do my job properly, it resulted in a full-on psychotic break. I'm the canary in the coal mine. AI is one of the many many toxic issues that nearly killed me this summer. Here's hoping we can learn enough from what I went through for it to have been worth it. 😞

*not going to say which uni I heard this story at but it wasn't about anyone I've had any interaction with and it was admittedly third hand

[transformersandturtles]

Couldn't find any of this SO I WROTE MY OWN FOR A ONE SHOT‼️ I will write more but I thought this would be good for now‼️ I'm really sorry if this seems out of character for either of them, I've never written anything for them before. 🥲

-----

CW - Swearing, reference to explicit content, possible spelling errors (non reviewed)

Word Count - 2,017 words (10,995 characters)

𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝑮𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈!

"Wade, is there anything you need from the store?" The gruff voice of Logan Howlett grumbled from the kitchen table, reading glasses resting on his nose as he held a small notepad and pen. He'd asked Al earlier if she needed anything, that wasn't illegal substances he had no way of getting his hands on, so now it was just a matter of asking his partner, who had just gotten back from walking Mary Puppins. He tapped the closed pen on the wooden surface, peering over the ridge of the glasses Laura made him wear. Who knew it was easier to read with glasses? He'd have to get something to thank her next time she came by.

"Oh! You're going shopping! Ooh, let's see!" Wade had quite the grin on his expression, taking off the harness and leash from the ever loving Dogpool, who he totally didn't get the owner of murdered so he could take her, and he picked her up, letting her lick his face as she was coddled like a baby in his arms. "We need more dog food," he spoke as he waltzed over to Logan, his hood falling down as he did so, "and more milk. Maybe some more eggs, and a pack of XL-" before he could finish, he felt something sharp poke at his throat.

"All that's on the list, except that last one. YOU can get that on your own time." The old Canadian scoffed a bit, not exactly in the mood to entertain Wade's thoughts. But he couldn't hold back a small grin when the other Canadian whined at the threat.

"Whaaaaaat? But Honey Badger, I can't go alone. They'd look at me weird." He protested, trying to be dramatic all for the sake of being dramatic.

"Uh huh, sure bub. . ." Logan put his claws away, grabbing the napkin off the table by his empty plate to wipe the blood away as the spot between his knuckles healed quickly. "So, there's milk, eggs, toilet paper, new beddings, steak, vegetables, beer. . ." He mumbled, setting the notepad down to write a few more things that came to mind. Wade set down Mary Puppins and he leaned over Logan's shoulder to figure out what other things were added. Toothpaste, mouthwash. . .

"Oh absolutely not." Wade reached for the pen to scratch out the body spray. "No way in HELL are you gonna buy Axe. Are you TRYING to smell like a skunk? Your musk is enough to make a room full of E-Sports players sick!"

". . . The fuck is E-Sports?" Logan wasn't sure if he should be insulted, confused, or both. But he wasn't too happy about the comment either way. "Also what the fuck is wrong with Axe? It's cheap and smells fine." He scoffed a bit. "I'm not trying to spend over $100 to smell good." He took off the metal framed glasses and placed them on the collar of his T-shirt under the teal-blue flannel.

"And I'm not saying you need to spend $100 to smell good, I for one think you smell amazing. Gets the body goin'. . ." Wade gave a cheeky grin with a chuckle, looking Logan up and down for a moment before looking back at the list. "But Axe is the worst one to use. If you want something to smell decent for work, I'd recommend Old Spice at the very least. Sure, the smell names are weird as fuck, but that comes with all male hygiene products. Women get all the sweet and nice sounding scents like peach vanilla or sunset cinnamon. . . Meanwhile we get stuff like Pine Jizz or Whales Fucking or-"

"Shut the fuck up, Wade. . . . Just shut up. . ." Logan let out a groan of annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Wade had a grin on his face, laughing a little at how Logan told him to stop talking.

"I'm just saying, Peanut, if you get Axe then you're sleeping on the couch or out in the hallway." Wade warned, before leaning in to kiss Logan on the cheek. "I'll go get ready." He hummed, and left to the bedroom to change out of his sweatpants and hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah. . ." Logan mumbled in annoyance, putting his hand to his cheek to hide the light blush across his face. He huffed and stood up, stretching as his joints popped and cracked, from his lower back to his legs and neck. He popped his jaw a bit, before going to the coat rack to grab his brown leather jacket he got for a fairly good price last week. It was nice, not too tight but not too lose, and had some decent pockets. Perfect for carrying booze. . . Or other stuff he didn't want to pay for, maybe. He was THE Wolverine, and taxes were too expensive sometimes. Who was gonna throw him in jail if he shoplifted? No one, that's who. He adjusted the collar of the leather jacket, getting it how he wanted before stopping when he heard the bedroom door open. He looked at Wade, and stared at him almost dumbfounded. "You are NOT going out like that. . ."

"Why not, Peanut? You always like it when I dress this way." Wade teased, he wasn't serious about wearing the outfit in public, but he wanted a good reaction out of Logan. Besides, the outfit was pretty comfortable but no way in hell was he having enough confidence to show off his unicorn crop top and short-shorts. He didn't mind wearing it when he was having his great days; where he was overly confident and eager to show off his body despite the scarring. But today wasn't one of those days, especially since it was getting cooler as Autumn was coming in after what felt like eons of Summer. Wade did notice how Logan's complexion had turned a few shades of a deep red while looking, which also made Wade's cheeks turn a soft pink.

"Alright, alright, hurry up then. . ." Logan sighed softly, not even making a comment or retort to what was said because Wade was right. Logan crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Wade but was surprised when the bedroom door closed again and he frowned. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he upset Wade? The mutant stood quietly but worriedly, his nose twitching a bit as he sniffed the air, trying to figure out if Wade was upset or not. It was hard to tell, so he stepped closer to the door. There didn't seem to be any low serotonin levels, they seemed about as normal as they could be for Wade. His nose continued twitching as he kept sniffing past the door, still trying to figure out if he upset his boyfriend or not, his ears twitching a little as well as he listened carefully. Before he could figure it out past the smell of everything else on the other side of the door, he was met once again with the face of Wade who seemed surprised at how close Logan was to the door. But that surprise soon turned to playful, mischievous grin.

"Aww, was someone worried about me?" He teased, wrapping an arm around Logan and leaning in to rub his nose against Logan's cheek. The gruff man scoffed with a growl, not out of hostility but annoyance, as he bit Wade's cheek with his big canines.

"Like hell I'd worry about you, dumbass. . ." Logan grumbled, moving away from Wade but didn't move too far so they could at least hold hands. "Let's go. . ." He sighed heavily, taking Wade's hand and going to the door to get their shoes on as Logan grabbed the keys to the apartment and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket with the notepad.

At the store, Logan had to keep holding Wade's hand so the younger wouldn't run off, who knows what that undiagnosed dork would go find and beg to have. Logan had his glasses back on as he looked down at the list in his hand. He had a specific order to get everything in, and if he had to deviate from that plan he might just lose it. Wade was very aware of his boyfriend's thoughts and methods, and honestly he didn't mind holding hands and walking with Logan, though he did stop a few times to look at something that caught his attention.

"We really gotta get you an appointment. . ." Logan mumbled as he gently tugged Wade along so they could keep shopping to get everything on the list. He headed over to the produce section, his hazel eyes gazing over the different fruits and veggies, letting go of Wade's hand for just a moment so he could find the perfect vegetables to cook for dinner. He'd started learning how to cook lately and had a nice dinner planned, so he made sure that the ingredients would be edible and not rotten inside or anything of the sort. He grabbed some potatoes, a few peppers, and for something sweet as a snack for later he grabbed some apples, a grapefruit, and a cantaloupe though it was slowly coming out of season and probably wouldn't taste as good as it does in the summer but he didn't care. He goes to check the ingredients off the list and turns to hold Wade's hand again, only to find the other Canadian had vanished. "Great. . ." Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before grabbing the shopping cart and continued with his shopping, knowing he'd find Wade eventually, tracking his scent wasn't that difficult due to the constantly dying and regenerating cells, along with the citrus-pine smell he had. His ears and nose twitched every so often as he leaned his elbows against the cart to push it, walking around and glancing around as he got cheese, milk, eggs, and some other things in the aisle, a gruff and raspy hum vibrating in his chest as he tapped his sharp nails against the metal bar of the cart while listening to the music playing through the store. It was crappy compared to what he liked, some hit pop song the youth enjoyed, but damnit was it catchy in the kind of way that it was really annoying but kinda good. He whistled a little, getting everything on the shopping list and went to the aisle full of booze before an announcement rang over the store's system.

"Logan Howlett, please come to the front. Your child is waiting." A bored teen girl sounded over, the tone of her voice a mix of boredom, with a hint that screamed she did not get paid enough to watch over someone or help. Logan raised a brow at this, confused. Laura wasn't here, was she? But then it clicked, and he groaned slightly with some annoyance. He grabbed two packs of the good beer and headed to the front, finding Wade near a desk who seemed happy and relieved once Logan arrived.

"Honey Badger! I was so worried you left without me!" Wade nearly tackled the older man the moment he could, and Logan grunted, a bit startled.

"You're the one who ran off, idiot. . ." Logan scoffed, glaring at Wade before looking down at the soft thing between them. "Wade. . . What the hell is that?" He frowned. Wade looked down, and a big grin was plastered on his face.

"Pompompurin! He'd be great to sit with Hello Kitty and Cinnamoroll!" He beamed, excited even as he held the large dog plush. Logan wanted to say no, to make him put it back, because who knows how much money that thing cost, but the longer he saw those big eyes, Logan eventually let out a groan of defeat.

"Fine. . . But you're payin' for it, bub. . ." Logan patted Wade on the shoulder, before taking him and the cart to the self checkout aisle so he could scan everything himself. Logan didn't like strangers touching stuff sometimes.

"Fine by me!" Wade grinned, watching Logan scan everything and he snorted a bit, amused by his odd yet loving boyfriend.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade is having a stay-in date night with Ness, and this means the kitchen light is traded for a colored one, candles, half burnt pasta, cheap wine, and Careless Whisper blasting throughout the appartment complex.

He starts off with some cringy dance while V is up on the counter, rolling her eyes and smiling, but she can't help but feel like there was something different about Wade. Yeah, she knew this dance. She knew the routine of his 'serenade' and his littlw two step slow dance he had going on, making backup sound effects for Mr. George Micheal and eventually grabs the pasta spoon, singing into it.

This is not new, but.. something was. She couldn't put her finger on it but she knew her boyfriend. She knew him well enough to become engaged to him, break up with him, and start dating again.

It was like he was glowing.

But why?

"Tonight the music seems so loud! I wish that we could lose this crowd-" His non existsnt eyebrows wiggle, and Vanessa can't help but to almost spit out her wine.

"Maybe it's better this way, We'd hurt each other with the things we want to say!" He shouts into the pasta sauce covered spoon, leaning into her a bit as she rolls her eyes again, looking up at the ceiling. She knew what Wade wanted. He wanted to "earn" her with his performance.

God.. he really is her peacock, wasn't he?

"We could have been so good together! We could have lived this dance forever!" Taking her arm, He pulls her waist closer to him, connecting their foreheads with those pretty heart eyes of his beaming into hers with such love struck gleam.

"But now who's gonna dance with me? Please staaaayy~" He sings loudly, letting her go enough for V to notice that Logan is now staring too, the same lop sided love struck small smile on his face.

"And I'm never gonna dance again- Guilty feet have got no rhythm!!" He says, dropping onto his knees and arching his back, using her hand to keep his balance.

"You didn't have any to begin with!"

She hears, looking up to see Logan smirking as Wade jumps to his feet. "ExcUSE me!? My bad, not everything is a waltz, old man! Like seriously, when's the last time you could do anything but a simple one two three? Lincoln's wedding!?" He calls over the counter and Logan grunts, his joints popping as he gets off the couch.

Wades eyes widden with dangerous excitment as he turns to her. "Oh now, im in for it!"

"Damn right. I can do more then Waltz, you know."

"Oh, yeah!? Like what? Square dance?!"

"Whats wrong with square dancing!?"

Then it clicked.

Him.

That's what was different about Wade.

Logan had changed him. Unconsiously, for the better. He was so... Happy. He was like a missing puzzle piece to complete Wades purpose of being, mirroring what Wade needed, even if that meant insulting his dancing skills mid date.

Grinning widely like a moron with a crush, he changes the song- Wade was serious. He would never dance with anyone else except V to that song ever again- Pushing next on their shuffle only for Madonna to come on.

Squealing, he waves his hands, shoving the pasta spoon back into the pot then took Logan's hands. "Can you swing?"

"S-swing?- Woah!! Hey!"

"You wanted to dance so were dancing!"

"I didn't say that!"

As she listens to them bicker, she laughs as she watches Logan awkwardly step on Wade's foot multiple times.

"Ouch!! Hey! I'm regenerative, not indestructible! You're like 400 pounds!!" He teases, and the blush on Logan's face is something she wants to take a picture of, watching as he tries to teach Wade how to 'properly dance', spinning him around, holding his wasit and dipping him at certian parts.

"Ahh!! Don't drop me!!"

"I'm not going to drop you, Stop screaming!"

"Ness!! He's gonna drop me!"

She giggles, giving Logan a playful finger wag. "Hey do you mind? He needs all the braincells he can keep!"

"Yeah! Cancer already ate half of them!"

"Oh, sssuurree, just the cancer, definitely not how many times youve made me shove my-"

"Lo-Lo!!! Not in front of Nessy!!" He whines, being spun again.

"Oh shut up, i'm not going to embarrass you infront of Vanessa-" he turned to her, whispering "I so am"

"I HEARD THAT!"

"What? It's not my fault your game is weak." Logan teases him, giving her a playful nod, putting his hand out for her to take "Ma'am."

She laughs, hearing Wade suddenly complain that he wasn't supposed to be stealing his date.

"Maybe she wants to dance with a real man-" Logan coes, gently taking V and spinning her too... Vanessa could see why Wade liked him.. he was quite strong. And a gentleman.

"My gender blindness has NOTHING to do with this!" Wade whined in a high-pitched tantrum like sound, grabbing her waist and pulling her into him instead.

Oh great. And now they were fighting over her.

Gosh... Maybe she has two Peacocks...

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

That's why you wear a belt with chain - it helps distribute the weight so that it falls on your hips rather than your shoulders, which is where you want the weight to be.

And it's really interesting how well chain and plate work together. Chain is more flexible, which allows it to cover mobile areas that plate can't (armpits, kneepits, groinpits, neckpits). Plate is strong and rigid, which allows it to protect against blunt force. Like, yeah, you need blunt force to get through plate, but that's really it's main combat weakness. Hit someone with only chain and gambeson with a warhammer, and they may not have a functional ribcage anymore.

And then there's the bec, but nothing can really stand against the bec.

I do think a lot of mid-medieval armies outfitted their soldiers with at least a helmet and breastplate - those are the areas you want to get poked the least, as it can cause instant death, whereas you usually survive long enough to poke back when you get poked in other areas. But don't quote me on that.

A breastplate doesn't even have to be particularly fancy! I've seen a mid grade breastplate deflect a miniature ballista. (Nothing against the quality - it was just a good representation of what the average breastplate would look and act like.)

This whole conversation reminds me of the video of the guy in full plate halfswording while sprinting full tilt at the camera. Gives me major Tyelco or Finno vibes, tbh. (I've Fëanárized this now.)

I will say, the one thing that annoys me about modern interpretations of breastplates is that they make it go to the hips rather than the waist. 1) men with waspish waists were fashionable at the time and 2) your paladin isn't going to be able to tie her own shoes but you do you.

The myth that knights could barely move in their armor has finally been dispelled by Thrillist

[citrus-writing]

In Your Skin - yandere! feitan x reader

summary: Feitan carving his initials into darling

warnings: violence against reader, implied past abuse

taglist: @rotten-pomegranate on Tumblr

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

Over time- weeks and weeks spent under his watchful eye- all the fight you once had in you has been worn away. By now all you can do is try to read his expressions and guess his mood and try to be good. You do your best to do whatever he says, but the truth is that by the time he has to tell you, you’re already too late to avoid his anger. You do your best to do what he wants- wear the clothes he likes, partake in hobbies he seems to like seeing you engage in, talk about the things he likes to talk about; there isn't much he likes to talk about, but you try. It's never enough.

You look over at him, sitting alone reading a book in a language you don't know. His face is hard to read, especially at such a glance, but he looks almost cute- it’s strange to think of him as attractive, but that’s the truth; to you, he’s cute, handsome even. Should you feel disgusted for thinking that? Ashamed? Embarrassed? You’re not sure. You don't even know what he would think if you told him- but you do know that his face wouldn't betray any emotion, and he’d find a way to make you regret saying it. 

When he looks at you, you look away fast. You hear the book snap shut and you know you're in trouble. Was it looking at him that made him mad? Or looking away?

"Come here," he calls, and you hurry to obey- whatever he had in mind, you knew hesitating would only make it worse. You come to stand in front of him, eyes fixated on his shoes because you don't dare to look up at him. If you looked at him, what would you see? Not knowing what expression he wears sends terror straight through you. The thought of what expression he wears as you cower is ever worse. You can feel his eyes boring through you. “What you were looking at?” he asks in that signature slightly broken english. 

You don't know what to say, “nothing, i uh, wasn't really looking at anything.” 

He moves to get down from where he’s sat, grabbing you by the wrist. “Liar.” he hisses. You don't say anything as he pulls you from where you were standing towards the basement. You know you said the wrong thing, you always do, and now you have to pay for it. 

Once you’re at the bottom of the stairs he pushes you towards the little operating table at the center of the room, one you’re familiar with by now. The first few times you’d thrashed and kicked and screamed for him to let you go. Now, you don't say anything at all, stumbling to the table and feeling tears sting at your eyes from the horror of your situation. How many times could you mess up before he killed you? You must be on thin ice by now. Was this it? Would you even care if it was? 

He straps you down to the table, fingers tracing over the skin of your wrists and ankles as he secures the leather straps. It’s almost gentle, almost a lovers caress. You watch him look at you, head slightly tilted but face unreadable. He speaks first, “you were staring.” Was that what this was about? That you had been staring at him in the living room earlier. “Then you lied.” 

You can't stop crying, the various tools hung up on the walls glare down at you- and you remember some of them, the way they had felt, the way they had pierced your skin and the way they had made you scream in pain. You nod your head anyways. “I’m sorry.” 

He frowns, looking down at you like you’re not making sense, “don't be.” 

He picks up a clean little blade- so clean it gleamed in the light, with such a sharp and smooth edge that you imagined you’d barely feel it. It's a stark contrast to the other weapons down here- all dirty and jagged, all perfectly crafted to inflict as much harm as possible. This little weapon isn't like that at all- you find the mind to wonder if it’s new, even. 

Then he turns back to you, his face is unreadable, but his body language is a little off. Normally, when he brings you down here and straps you to the table, he’s angry. Even if he doesn’t tell you or show it, you can always tell he’s angry at you. But not right now. 

He traces his free hand from your cheek to your collarbone, peeking out from the collar of your clothes. His fingers are cold, tracing over you in a nearly gentle manner. You try not to shiver. The sound of your clothes being ripped apart by the clean little knife starles you from your spell. He only cuts through the collar of your shirt, only exposing a few extra inches of skin, from your collarbone to the top of your breasts. 

Your breathing begins to speed up, a new kind of panic setting in. Feitan had done a lot to you in your time here, but his touch had always remained tactile, like he didn't really feel one way or another about touching you. You should have known when his fingers brushed over your cheek that this was different. Of course you’d considered the possibility- that he’d brought you here for something more than killing you- but as time had worn on, that fear has started to subside. 

You don't have time to dwell on the details of what he was about to do, or why, when he brings the blade to your skin. Of course, struggle is impossible with you bound so tight, but you have to try, don't you? You try to kick your feet, try to move your hands, try to scream. 

Through tears you can make out his face, he’s lowered the cowl he wears enough for you to see what expression he wears- and though he hides it well, there’s some demented sort of smile tugging at his lips, though he seems to try to hide it. 

When he allows you up from the table, you realize that you haven't been there for very long. You also notice that he’s left you completely unmarred besides the area below your clavicle- which feels mangled, burns and bleeds, and you don't dare raise your hand to test the skin there. 

He picks something up off of a nearby table, holding it out to you- it’s a hand mirror. You can hardly lift your arms to take it from him, too afraid of what you’ll find etched into your skin. He’d never bothered to show off his work before, confident you would see it next time you showered or looked in the bathroom mirror. But he wants to see your reaction to this one. You hold up the mirror to look at what he’d written into your skin. 

FEITAN. Written in capital letters, weeping blood, etched deep enough into your skin you know it’ll leave deep angry scars. 

Your eyes dart to the man standing in front of you, and you're shocked to find him closer to you than he had been before, inches from you, lips wrapped into a smile so twisted and cruel it makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re mine.” 

[skultyun]

Soo.. soobin admitted he likes praise more than degrading, he's crazy like actually. Can't stop thinking about overstimming him and easing him through it by showering him with praise.. am I crazy or is it just me?? 🤭🤭

cw: overstimulation, handjobs, blowjob? (Lasted for like 20 secs), tiny praise kink, sub!bfsoobin x dom!reader

"You can take one more right?" You coaxed, even though he's exhausted after the countless climaxes you've put him through this night (he just can't say no to you <3) He's shaking his head frantically, hips moving to meet your hand despite his protests. "n-no.. can't.. no more please.." he cries, but you pump his cum covered cock even faster, dragging a whine out of him. There are dried streaks of cum all over his belly, a new batch was gonna come soon if you didn't give him the break he needed. "Pleasee? Just a little more I know you can take it." You plead while your poor boyfriend struggles to even keep his sanity intact, you've been teasing him for a while even since you woke him up in the middle of the night desperate to stroke his cock (to which he complied without no clue of the things you had in mind.) "baby..!- ah- y-y'know I get really sensitive.." It's clear he's gonna break anytime sooner, and if you just kept distracted him a little longer he would have come have no other choice. You rub your thumb right over his slit, already leaking of pre-cum and his body jerks in response, you know that's his weak spot. "Ugh- love..!" He's so cute you can't even help yourself anymore, bringing your face level to his tip and the way his eyes widened in panic tells that he knows what's about to happen.

"Take it for me, please? You're a good boy I know you can do it." Wow, "good boy". That's most likely soobins magic word, cause in the blink of an eye he's immediately giving in to your request, not even caring about how drained he was anymore, your words swoon him and make him so weak he almost came. "Haahh.. oh I can't- you know what you're doing to me." Soobin huffs, he can see through your tricks but it's as if he walks into them blindly without a single care. But you don't hear a complaint, and that is considered an affirmative response. So you engulf all of him in a quick go and surround him with your warmth. That's enough to make him come undone, not even warning you before he's cumming for the sixth time that night, this time down your throat. You took him deeper inside as he came, making sure to get every drop and not let it go to waste. Soobins trembling and shaking, bathed in sweat, tears and his own cum, you pull away from him before resting on his side.

His mind is totally blank, you cup his face and kiss his the tip of his nose. "You did great love." He smiles lazily at you, basking in your praise. "I did..?" You nod in return with a satisfied smile, he's fucked out and drained but is so happy he pleased you. Burying his face his your neck as you play with his hair and shower the sweet boy with all the love he deserves <3

you may have just destroyed your boyfriend, but atleast it was fun!

(SORRY THIS WAS RUSHED..)

[eluminium]

WILD LIFE IMPULSE MAKES ME SO WEIRDLY SAD GUYS ISTGGGGGG- MAYBE I'M JUST HIGH OFF OF MY OWN SUPPLY BUT MY GOD.

People treat him like he's somehow massively different from how he used to be, even some of his own allies. They think he's causing problems on purpose, they think he's intentionally being difficult and getting in the way of things. He's changed for the worse. But really, what HAS changed about Impulse in WL compared to earlier seasons? From what I've seen, it's only one thing.

He wants to win. He's made it known that he's aiming for that metaphorical crown. Outside of that one verbalized goal, Impulse has not changed in the slightest. He's still doing the things he's always done.

I mean, think about it. Is there anything Impulse has DONE (not said) that's especially mean, traitorish or troubling? The only thing I can think of is in this newest session (aka session 4) where he and Pearl do some minimal stealing from Joel and Gem, but this thievery is way after their reputations as troublemakers began! Really, the only thing you could argue before this is the cow situation in sessions 1-2, but come on. Accusing Gem and Joel of stealing their cows wasn't the biggest leap in the world, y'know? However, it is kind of unlike Impulse to lash out and accuse someone of something like that. He's usually pretty quiet about situations like this, instead choosing to stew in his frustrations and develop a grudge.

And I think that's what is making people uncomfortable in this season. Impulse speaking out. Impulse demanding things. Impulse making his wills and wants known. And it's something I find so tragic in all of this. People are uncomfortable and untrusting of Impulse because, for once in his god damn lives (many of them), he openly wants good things for himself. And they're not even unreasonable things! Of course, he wants to win, everybody wants to win! But because he never says what he wants normally, it's reminding people (especially allies) that he might have his own goals that could get in the way of their goals.

But, and this is probably the biggest tragedy of all, Impulse doesn't actually prioritize himself that much more than before. Yeah, he's louder than usual, but look at his actions. Anytime he's had to act on anything, he chooses to do more or less whats best for his team, instead of himself. He apologizes to Gem when instructed, he moves together with the rest of the 4Gs to the new base despite voicing how the old base was safer, he tries to clear the air with Ren despite the fact Ren killed him so they can have another ally against Grian (no gurantee the grudge won't come up again though, BUT FOR NOW).

And of course, he does what he always does. Works as hard as he can to make sure his team is as safe and armed as possible. I mean, he builds a creeper farm TWICE, he goes mining for diamonds and says out loud that he wants to get enough so ALL of them could have full diamond armour, he builds a chicken farm for them to have a reliable food source! He's still Impulse, doing what Impulse does best. Pearl even CALLS HIM OUT on this near the end of session 4, saying: "So Impulse, where's the chaos bone? Where is it? You've been too tame today, what's going on?". And Impulse rationalizes by pointing out he lost 3 lives last session and isn't willing to start something he can't finish and how he's "gearing up because this is the calm before the storm!"...and then instantly giving himself another grindy task to do next time in the form of going to the Nether to get resources.

Because he's just doing what he always does, falling back into the same team-pleasing behaviours. Because what he wants most isn't actually winning, despite what he tells himself. He wants someone to want him, to care about him. And the best way he knows how to make people care about him is to show how useful he can be to them. It also doubles as insurence, because if he cannot be wanted, the resources will make sure he will be needed. And if he cannot be needed...he'll let his team use him until there's nothing left of him, until there's no more purposes for him to have. Not because he wants that, in fact he'll usually say the opposite, but because it's the only thing he knows. Work, work, work and keep going because if he just puts in enough honest effort he can get anything he wants, right?

And this loops back to people being overly suspicious of him this season. Because people-pleasing, resource gathering, mild-mannered Impulse is the Impulse people are used too, and the Impulse that is the most useful to them. You can really see this almost subconcious mindset in the gossiping between Scott and Gem in session 4. They talk about how Impulse has a weird tone of voice this season, how he's causing problems, and how they miss the "kind and trustworthy" Impulse from Secret Life. But he's not that different, and he hasn't actually done anything major. Except for expressing his wants more than usual, especially his want to win. But that's already enough of a change in his behaviour to be a problem. Scott and Gem are longing for the Impulse who's an extremely useful and dedicated asset who will grind his ass off for the good of his team without anyone even asking, making sure they got everything they need to survive, but at the same time he doesn't get in the way. He doesn't cause any sort of problems, justified or not, and he doesn't have any wants of his own that could clash with their wants. This "new" Impulse who expresses his goals openly is a possible threat they have to account for, even if he's still mostly the same old reliable Impulse.

And in a depressing way, this makes sense, doesn't it? Imagine, in this death game of betrayal and opprotunism and paranoia, you have a person who gladly gets you everything you needed. Armour, weapons, potions, food, tools, farms, everything! Without even having to be pushed at all! In fact, he's all the more happy to get you something if you ask! And he barely asks for anything in return in comparison. You can more or less pay him in a job well done, and he'll be satisfied. He's easy to mold, easy to incorprate into your goals and wants. Isn't that so nice? So reliable? You have 99 problems but at least this isn't one! Now you have something safe to cling onto in all this chaos.

...Now imagine if that ally suddenly started talking about what HE wants. He starts making demands, standing up for himself, and letting his anger come out. No matter how small these moments are, it's gonna throw you for a loop! Why would he act like this when he never has before? Why would he suddenly start having goals that aren't yours? Why is he confronting you about something you didn't even do instead of grumbling in a corner for a bit? Now he might be a problem, his goals could directly clash with yours. Actually, the fact he's doing this at all means he's up to something. I mean, the motivation has to come from somewhere! Now you hear it in his tone, in his speech patterns, in every moment he doesn't completely roll over for you, and even in the moments he does! He could be a threat now, and you don't like that. You miss the old version of your ally. He's broken now, he needs to be fixed. Keep working with him so he'll revert back to who he used to be, back to when he was quiet. Jokingly call it therapy while you're at it.

IT MAKES SENSE. AND IT SADDENS ME SO MUCH. ESPECIALLY WHEN IMPULSE ISN'T EVEN GAINING ANYTHING FROM THIS BECAUSE HE'S ACTUALLY NOT WORKING FOR HIMSELF AT ALL. HE'S BEEN LABELED A PROBLEM BECAUSE HIS PERSONAL GROWTH, HIM FINALLY TRYING TO PUT HIMSELF FIRST FOR ONCE, IS A THREAT TO HIS ENEMIES...AND HIS ALLIES.

Of course he isn't fully innocent in anything, nobody is, but it's just so sad how all of these factors, factors where no one really is in the wrong, work together to create a situation where Impulse has a reputation looming over his head that he can't even take advantage of. And it's in the season where he wants to win, too...WILD LIFE IMPULSE MY SPECIALIST LITTLE GUY....

[boopjuice]

They all break their rules. Within about 6 weeks.

Wes, obviously, meets Red Robin and charms him with his word vomit. He's also charmed by Red Robin because damn, that suit does wonders for him, and because Red Robin is intentionally flirting at the adorable idiot he just saved.

Next is Tuck. They haven't been able to find the book in the private library but they know Tim has the book. They know because Tucker found signs of hidden doors. And, well, they really need to get Danny back in Amity Park, so he figures Sam will forgive him for a little hacking.

Que then using Wes to distract Tim, who gets an alert halfway through the conversation that someone's hacking into his home security system to try and gain access to his Nest. And unfortunately, he can't find a way to excuse himself to defend his own system.

Tuck gets to duke it out with Oracle. He loses, and hightails it back to where they were staying. With the laptop he was just hacking with.

That Oracle is definitely tracking now.

Then Danny. Sam find out about Tuck breaking his rule and goes on a very long rant before they realize the laptop Tuck was using? Yeah, that's probably compromised. Good thing it didn't have any personal information on it, we'll just leave it here and go find another spot to stay!

Cut to four teens dragging luggage behind them in the middle of Gotham, all trying to find a place to stay. They looks like tourists. They look like easy targets.

So a gang jumps them, and while none of the team are slouches in a fight, there's just too many to reasonably take on. So Danny, while Sam is screaming about "Not you too!", becomes Phantom just long enough to knock out and tie up the gang.

Sam gives him the biggest earful when he's done. AND they still need to find a hotel while they look for another apartment.

The Bats are searching. They find the first apartment, trace it back to the teens, and are now actively hunting them down because why are four teens trying to hack into the Bat systems?

They manage to track them back to their hotel, which was pretty hard with Tucker covering their tracks, but not impossible. They find them right as Ivy decides to attack this block because it was originally contracted to be a green space for the city for at least another 50 years, but someone did some shady shit and broke the contract.

Sam? Is so tired. Wes broke his rule. Tucker broke his rule. Even Danny, who was the one to suggest having rules in the first place, broke his rule. AND HE'D COME UP WITH THAT ONE!

So Sam figures it's about time that she gets to break her rule too.

And in the middle of a fight between Poison Ivy, Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Orphan, Sam Manson marches out onto the battlefield and rips Ivy a new one. What good is she doing, harming innocent people and reducing the amount of places they could stay? Fixing the coral reefs would have significantly more positive impact on the world, so would fighting deforestation, which seems much more up Ivy's alley. But no, she's actively harming her cause by destroying people's lives, in the process making activism harder for other people, like Sam, who also want a greener planet.

Ivy tries to attack Sam, but she's Undergrowth's student. That's not about to happen. The plants can like Ivy all they want for her ties with the Green, they aren't going to attack someone personally tied to the Grey (I saw a head canon somewhere that instead of Sam being associated with plants, she should be associated with the Grey, which feeds into decay and reintroducing nutrients through that decay and I'm sticking with it).

Once the fight is over and the dust settles, all four Bats corner the teens, ignoring the stars in their eyes, because they really need to know why four high school juniors decided to try and break into their systems.

To which Tucker says, very helpfully, "We weren't? We just needed to get into Tim Drake's private library so we could find a ritual to help our friend."

The Bats have many, many more questions.

DCxDP Fic idea: What's the Rule again?

It starts with Wes Weston accidentally banishing Danny from his haunt. He didn't mean to, and he panicked along side Sam and Tucker when Danny was effectively evicted Danny from Amity Park.

See the four have become tight-knited friends every since the trio started talking to Wes back during the summer between freshman and sophomore year.

During that time, Wes's other friends had drifted apart once Wes' attention moved from basketball to ghosts- specifically Phantom. Danny had felt at fault that he was left a loner because of his secret identity and had invited Wes to sit with them at the Nasty Burger the second week of Summer break.

Wes was suprise to find out that Sam, Tucker and Danny were much better friends then the ones he hanged out with since third grade. He was used to people only speaking to him in class or the few times they hang out on breaks but the trio would message him about every single thought or meme they had. They could laugh togther until tears fell from thier eyes and they couldn't breath over the silliest of topics.

Wes also found out that the trio was supportive of all their interests. Sure, his old teammates and friends didn't make fun of him for crocheting or painting, but they wouldn't accompany him to an art market. Nor would they actually wear the scarves and gloves he made them.

They sure as hell didn't volunteer to help him run a booth to sell his own crocheting pieces after encouraging him to get a table. And they wouldn't cheer loudly when he made his first sale.

Wes also wouldn't have happily gone with them to an observatory, a Dark Poem Night, or even a tech expo. But he found that he had the time of his life watching Danny, Sam, and Tucker nerd out at the events much as much as he did at his own.

He also never had anyone he knew would be down to do him favors or even take notes for him when he was out sick.

So he became close friends with them, passing sophomore year with far more enjoyment than any other grade, then Junior year came and went just as fast and as fun. It was their last summer as high school students, so Wes wanted to do as many new activities as the four could together before Senior year.

Who knew what would happen to their little group after graduation? He wants to think they would all remain best friends but he's heard so many stories of people drifting apart that Wes was afraid of risking it.

That's why he researched urban myths and legends around the world regarding ghosts- more then any research paper he's ever done- and jokingly asked Danny to partake in some of them as a halfa.

They joked and laughed- throwing salt in a circle around Danny, lighting a candle for him to use Morse code with- but it wasn't until Wes got to the one where he tried smoking Danny out with a banishing spell he found in an old book that things turned from funny to horrible.

It worked

Danny was flung from his haunt- effectively banishing him from the area he was haunting. Dann just happens to be haunting all of Amity Park, so he ends up on the outskirts of town, unable to cross the invisible line.

Wes practically choked on his tears as he apologized for Danny not being able to cross back in, but the other three quickly informed him that they, too, took part in it, and it was no one's fault. Danny just had to find a way to reverse the banishing spell.

The only problem was that the book pages Wes found online were only on the banish spell itself and nothing else. He couldn't even find the whole book since it belonged in a private family library.

The family library was located in the most dangerous city in America. Gotham.

The library also belongs to a very wealthy family that had recently all but perished except for their lone heir- Timothy Drake.

Now Wes attempted to contact Timothy Drake in hopes of having the other teenager send him copies of the book, but he never got a reply. He thinks it was due to not explaining why he needed the book and ending up sounding like a bot or a scam.

With each passing day of Drake not responding Danny's situation grew worse. Jazz luckily covered for them, claiming to have signed Danny up for some camp so his parents wouldn't think he was missing.

That would only work until school started, which was a time limit that was weighing on all their shoulders as they tried to find a counterspell.

Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Wes each took turns driving out of town to bring him food and a change of clothes so Danny could figure out his situation, having to do it in shifts to not alert any of their parents.

However, without his haunt to pick up natural exoplasm, Danny was growing weaker and weaker by the day, looking half stave out in the little motel room Sam rented for him as they tried to get him back into the town.

Danny needed to either make his way back to his haunt or go somewhere that was so infected with ectoplasm that it actually felt cursed.

Tucker found the solution to all their problems with a few hacking skills that he learned to fight off Technus' invasive attempts of his personal tech.

"A full ride to Gotham Academy?" Wes' mom gasped staring at the acceptance letter her son eagerly showed her. "With a promised full ride to any university in America?!"

"Yeah, Tucker, Sam, Danny, and I all got accepted for our work on clean energy generators. We sent it in for the Wayne scholarship, and we won! The only thing is that it's a requirement to graduate from high school in Gotham. I have to go!" Wes gasped, eyeing both his dad's and Kyle's doubtful frowns. He couldn't afford for them to say no when Tucker had worked so hard to bump them up as Winners. Bruce Wayne's computer security is no joke. "This is the once in a life time opportunity!"

"But where would you live?" His dad asks, shaking the letter. "Wes, this is clear across states, and it only covers school expenses."

"Sam's parents bought her a house. She's going to rent us some of the extra rooms." It was a lie; her parents would never let four boys- especially these boys- rent from their daughter. She told them that the school provided co-dorm rooms "I can get a job at the local library- I already sent them my resume and got a call for a interview."

"What will you do for food?" Kyle asks. "We both know you can't cook."

"I can't, but Danny does. He's amazing in the kitchen."

Here, his parents share a loaded look. "So you'll be living with the Fenton boy....."

"Well. Yeah? I already said that?" He returns, confused, and Kuule coughs to cover a laugh. Confused he stares at his older brother, who quirks a grin at him.

"Don't worry about it." Kyle laughs, but his wiggling eyebrows tell Wes he should worry a lot about it. He would inisit a little more to find out what Kyle knew, but he needed to convince his parents more.

Eventually, after five days of attempting, Wes got their permission and could tell his friends, who all shared the same results. The remainder of the summer is spent preparing for their move- finding the house, getting it furnished, packing their things, transferring schools- it's a lot, and he's never been so grateful for Sam's wealth.

She hires people to get it all done for her-including hiring a trailer to take their four cars-, so he only has to worry about his packing. The four meet up at the airport on the day they live, flying first class thanks to Sam's grandmother.

Tearful goodbyes and good luck from their families leave them all a bit down but they board the plane and take off without too much trouble.

While on the plane, Sam turns to the boys. "Does everyone remember the phases of the plan?"

"Phase one: Blend into Gotham until we find Timothy Drake" Tucker states, pushing up his glasses

"Phase two: Get Drake to invite us over to his house and find the book," Danny tacks on, tapping his foot on the ground.

"Phase three: Find all the pieces for the counterspell- usually scattered around the magical family's ancestral home- and get Danny home!" Wes shouts, raising a fist in the air.

Sam nods, looking satisfied. "And what are we not allowed to do? Danny?"

"Become a vigilante when my ectoplasm is on a limited intake" Danny grumbles, sinking into his chair. "Let it to the Bats and keep my head low."

"Good. Tucker?"

"I'm not allowed to hack into anything because it can gain the attention of the Bats or Mr.Wayne, and then we'll be on a wanted list" Tucker sighs "No matter how much fun it would be to battle it out with the legendary Oracle."

"That's right. I'm not allowed to go anywhere near Poison Ivy no matter how much I want to yell at her to go fix the coal riffs and cut down forests instead of wasting her powers on the stupid heist." Same all but bites, and then she turns her attention to Wes, who startles.

"Wes?"

"Wait, I have a rule?"

"Course, man," Tucker laughs. "We all have rules."

"But I'm not interesrted in anything in Gotham besides the Drake grimoire!"

"Wes," Danny says gently, his soft baby blue eyes making him a little hot under the collar as they stare into his soul. "You're not allowed to fall in love with any of the Bats."

Wes mind blanks, then reboots, "Excuse me!?"

"We know you had a crush on all of us here Wes and Val" Sam laughs when he turns wide eyes at her. "It's cute but you really shouldn't try for the Bats. They're the violent sort"

"What?!"

"Yeah, you have a type, and it's a hero or hero adjacent." Tucker shrugs "It's cool."

Wes can only gape at them, no matter how much he tries to convince them; otherwise, the three refuse to remove his rule. He is highly offended by it.

Yes, he's never really gone out with Team Phantom, just because when he joined the group, most of Danny's rouges were long gone leaving behind the tiny ones that he could handle on his own, but he wasn't into heroes!

And okay- maybe, maybe at one point or another he may have had slight crushes on his friends but they were quick and gone before the first school year together!

So the rule is utterly ridiculous!

At least, he thinks so until five days later when he's trying to find his way around the new neighborhood and gets caught up in a mugging. He could have quickly taken the mugger- humans had nothing on ghosts- but he attempted to talk the young adult out of it when Red Robin swooped in like a knight in shining armor.

He may have just stared at the hero's tight-skin outfit instead of letting the hero know that he could handle it, and he may have made a fool of himself when Red Robin asked if he was right.

"Yeah tots fine" He babbles. Ugh, who says tots?! He wants to stop talking but when Wes gets nervous he tends to just word vomit and he could hear himself doing it now. "You know who else is fine?"

Red Robbin raises a brow, likely knowing the pickup line. Cowering, Wes changes the answer in a panic. "Timothy Drake!"

Red Robin stills. "Come again?"

"Timothy Drake, a boy in my class! He's fine that you think he was part siren or something. You've seen him, right? I mean you have eyes!" He repeats with a squeal "I want to get into his private liberty!"

"Do you?" Red Robin tilts his head, a slight smirk forming on his mouth. "You should try flirting with him then. Maybe he can give you a tour."

"Oh, I want more than a tour!"

Why did he say that?!

At least the hero in front of him laughs until a shout has them both looking away.

Danny is running down the street screaming his name, thank the Ancients. When Wes turns around to wave at him, Red Robin vanishes without a sound or trace.

Like a ghost.

Oh no, that's hot.

"Danny, I broke the rule"

"For Ancient's sake, it hasn't even been a month."

[hoonieyun]

collecting tears - jongseong

jar of tears that were shed for jongseong

park jongseong x reader "y/n"

genre: angst, breakup, the one that got away

warnings: profanity, mental illness/depression, overall 18+

summary: no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get jongseong out of your head. two years after your tear filled and emotional breakup, he's still on your mind but it seems he hasn't thought about you since that night.

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier olivia rodrigo - happier word count: 2007

text in italics are flashbacks

You saw him in everything. 

You saw him in the way your glasses reflected the light as it sat on your vanity.

You saw him in the way your guitar collected dust in the corner of your bedroom. 

And you saw him in your reflection as you stared at your tear stained face and dark circles under your eyes. 

The memory of Jongseong that you held onto hurt more than the idea of being without him, because being without him only led to the memories of when you were with him, something that no longer exists in your life. 

Jongseong. 

The events of your tear filled and emotional breakup replays in your mind often, Jongseong’s tired face and the broken picture frame scattered into thousands of pieces in your bedroom. You could hear the argument in your head like it was playing through a speaker that followed you wherever you went. The last words you ever spoke to him ringing in your ears as a constant reminder that your inability to process your emotions and failure to stabilize your mind was the reason you were so lonely, even two whole years after your breakup. 

It’s a gloomy afternoon in the middle of September. The weather foreshadows the inevitable dreary, dull, and dark outcome of what your life would be for years to come. You had been in bed all day, crippled by your anxiety and depression, making it difficult for you to make any rational decisions or clear judgement of what you should be doing. 

Your phone fills with unanswered calls and texts that would remain unanswered until you convinced yourself enough that you weren’t a burden to others. Something that you wouldn’t be able to shake off for almost half a year from today. A feeling that still lingers and creeps up onto you every now and then. 

“Honey?” a voice asks from beyond the darkness of your bedroom. You quickly wiped away your tears and did your best to make it seem like you weren’t crying the whole day. Pulling yourself up and dragging the blanket further up your body to cover yourself as if your boyfriend, Jongseong, was anyone you should be hiding away from. His tenderness and soft demeanor was the first thing that attracted you towards him, his good looks was just a plus. 

“Honey, are you still sleeping?” Jongseong asks as he slowly pushes the door of your bedroom open, a slight creak sounding from the hinges as light emerges from the other side of the door, Jongseong’s silhouette outlined by the light. “Hi… No, i’ve just been in bed. Doing some thinking…” you say, trying to avoid the fact that you were just crying and hoping that he doesn’t notice as he makes his way closer. 

Your bed dips as Jongseong takes a seat next to your figure, still hiding under the blanket. It goes without being said but Jongseong knew you all too well.

He knew when you were really happy over fake happy because true joy spreads across your face when your eyes widen and you blink a thousan times, like you were trying your best to contain your joy but ultimately failing. 

He knew when you were upset because you would sniffle your nose as a way to avoid awkward silence or having to voice out your feelings. 

And he knew when you were sad because you’d rather surround yourself in the comfort of the darkness instead of reaching out to the hand that could pull you away from the dark. Much like how you were right now. 

Jongseong would’ve never abandoned you. He vowed that he would always be by your side no matter what, had you let him. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” he asks, already knowing the answer but he’s made it a habit to encourage you to vocalize your feelings so that it would be easier for you to process them. You only hummed in response but you knew that you should’ve told him how you felt in that moment because it only manifested into something worse. 

He sighs at your response, he would be lying if he said that sometimes he wished it was easier, but what was love if it didn’t have some ups and downs. Jongseong just hoped that it was up more than it was down. You scoff at him. Your anxiety was already talking you closer to a ledge and you didn’t need this from him right now. You were convinced that he only came here to make you more upset and the voices validated that outrageous claim over the evidence that Jongseong only had love for you. 

“You don’t need to be here. You can leave.” your harsh words piercing into Jongseong’s heart, a feeling of guilt over hurt as he had hoped his presence alone would be enough to make you feel better but it only made you feel worse and he didn’t know why. 

“Why would I leave? I want to be here, let me take care of you.” Jongseong says, inching closer to you but you quickly recoil away from, widening the distance like your mattress was meters long. “What’s wrong? Y/N, talk to me…” Jongseong urges but his pleas of wanting to be let in only read as judgement. Like he was judging you for the way you were instead of trying to understand you. Your mind forces a lie for you to believe over the truth, that Jongseong loved you and he wished you knew how much he did. 

He loved you more than anxiety loved to cling onto the smallest piece of doubt in your mind. 

He loved you more than you loved the darkness. 

And he loved you more than words could say but no amount of words could ever tell you that. 

“Just leave, I don’t need you here to think I’m someone to take care of and be seen as a burden!” you say, voice now a bit louder as frustration begins to build inside of you. “Honey, you’re not a burden and I’d never treat you like that.” Jongseong says as he settles his hand over your thigh, rubbing it softly over the blanket. 

“Why do you do that? Huh?!” you ask, scattering away from his touch and dragging yourself out of bed to stand in front of him. 

“You think you can just come in here and act like I’m some poor and unfortunate thing that needs to be fixed or that needs to be looked after. I know you see me as a burden Jongseong, you just don’t want to say it because you’d rather convince yourself that you love me instead of facing the truth. 

What did you even come here for? To make sure that I wasn’t doing well? So you could come and swoop in to save the day? You see me as nothing more than just a sick puppy to take care of. You’ve only stayed as long as you have because you pity me more than you love me.” the words just continue to spill out of you. the voices inside of your head had fully convinced you that everything you were saying was the truth and you were only just helping Jongseong face it. 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He loved you more than anything and he couldn’t process the fact that you only saw him as someone that pitied you over someone that truly loves you. Because he did. He loved you… or was he starting to believe that what you were saying was in fact the truth. 

“How could you say that?” Jongseong says, voice low and discouraged. Great, now you had upset him and intead of focusing on yourself you now had to worry about your boyfriend’s feelings. 

“I- You know what. We’re done. Get out.” your voice was dull but it stabbed Jongseong’s heart like it was nothing. “What?” he says in disbelief and you don’t even give him time to process as you're grabbing his wrists and doing your best to drag him out of your apartment. His body was heavy as he tried to stop you but there was something, aside from you, pulling Jongseong out of your apartment and away from you. 

Was it wrong to say that maybe there was a small chance he had been waiting for you to push him away? That he had been secretly hoping you would finally get tired of him so that he no longer had to deal with you? Was that so wrong for him to want to be happy in the chance that it meant not being happy with you?

As he pondered these questions, the slam of your front door knocked him out of his thoughts, eyes glued onto the brown paint of the front door. Jongseong contimplated to knock on the door, beg for him to be let in, but he chooses not. Dropping his hand to his side with a sigh as he turns on his heel and walks away from your apartment. 

And ultimately walking away from you, forever. 

You, on the other hand, waited on the other side of the door, tears welling in your eyes the longer you waited for Jongseong to try and make his way back in. Hoping that you would hear his voice that you loved so much, ask for you to open the door so he could take care of you. 

Because maybe, even if you thought you didn’t need it, you did need to be taken care of. And Jongseong was the person who had done that for as long as you could remember. 

But the longer you waited the more sadness and regret filtered out the insecurity and doubt. Leaving you to stand in your home, alone, and never to see Jongseong again. 

You drag yourself back into your bedroom, flickering the light on and the first thing your eyes fall to is the framed photo of you and Jongseong. The photo was of the day he asked you to be his girlfriend. A photo of you sitting in the middle of a field for a picnic that he had planned. Flowers and your favorite food and snacks sitting next to the both of you on the picnic blanket. 

The anger you felt from the photo surged throughout your body and without even thinking you swipe the photo off your vanity, tears flowing from your eyes as it crashes to the floor into thousands of pieces. 

You would have hoped that two years after your breakup that you would’ve gotten better and gotten over him, but you fell back into the cycle of shrouding in darkness when a photo of Jongseong appears on your SNS. 

He’s smiling, hair done in the way you liked, in a suit that made him look like a prince, and an arm around the waist of a girl you didn’t know. Your eyes trailed over from his arms, to her waist, to her arm, and then to the ring on her finger. 

It felt like your heart shattered in that moment. Like you were offended and hurt that Jongseong would ever choose another girl over you as if you gave him a choice like you hadn’t made that choice for him. 

More tears well in your eyes as you glance over to Jongseong again. His smile was so beautiful and that was when you realized you had never seen him smile like that when he was with you. He seemed so happy and it hurt even more knowing that he was happy without you. 

But there was no one to blame but you. 

You forced him away and what a waste of a life for Jongseong to never choose happiness. 

You only ever wished that he would be happy. 

Just as long as he’s not happier without you. 

Maybe in another life. When you weren’t so convinced that everyone hated you and that you were deserving of Jongseong’s love. 

Maybe in another life. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

the credit for the lyrics used in this piece of writing go to their rightful owners

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 26.

Summary: In which you and Venetia finally discuss the thing you've been avoiding all Summer since Oliver arrived. You finally get the truth from her, and wish you hadn't. Still, you finally offer the truth to Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 3101 words. where have i been? don't worry about it. where have you been? anyways i hope you want some drama to sink your teeth into. went into a much different direction than the chapter outline i had for it. unedited, but would love to hear from you guys as i'm getting back into it!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Things have been quiet since Farleigh left. Was sent away. Whispered gossip and speculation between the Catton siblings and Oliver that you feel too strange to indulge in, and an ache in your chest that you feel like you're not allowed to talk about. For all his disappointment regarding Farleigh's betrayal of the family, Felix knows your own hurt runs far deeper than you will ever let on. Yes, the two of you fought often, and in time you all knew he'd be back, but this conflict had made your bond especially fragile, and in his absence you feared it may never again be what it once was.

And Oliver seems to pick up on it too.

"Are you going to prune all of his flowers too?" Oliver asks, sounding so casual, but his words catch you by surprise, and your expression drops as you turn to him. It's late, in the study together, and he's got one of your botany books open in his lap.

"Whose flowers?" You know who he means, but hate the very thought. You hope you'd misheard. You hope you're wrong, but you're not.

"Farleigh's."

"What makes you think that?" You ask, turning back to the textbook in front of you, laying open on the desk.

"I just mean... well after trying to go under the Catton's noses like he did," Oliver shrugs, like he can't see your growing upset at the reminder, can't see how your face has fallen. This Summer night feels so cold; many have since Farleigh had left.

"No," you tell him faintly, turning to the next page of your book, heart beating uncomfortably in your chest, "he's still family."

"Oh," Oliver doesn't say much more about it after that, nor does he stay all that long either.

"Zinnias," you murmur, face still turned to your book, when he goes to retire for the night. Oliver gives pause, and you tell him, "Farleigh's flowers are the zinnias; they look a bit like a sunset." Oliver doesn't have much of a response, other than telling you goodnight, but you weren't sure what you had been expecting otherwise.

He's somehow even quieter than usual in the wake of the scandal, but he clings to you and Felix now more than he doesn't, and you find yourself clinging to him too. He's been good enough to not bring up Farleigh's departure around you either, though he has taken Farleigh's usual seat beside you at the table. Honestly, you don't really mind; you'd rather that than the emptiness continue to remind you. Surprisingly it's Venetia who seems to have grown wary of him.

"You and Feef must be pleased," she languishes, her back against you in the bath next to her own room, perfumed steam turning golden in the candlelight, "mummy and daddy both like this one."

"Please don't talk about Ollie like that," you sighed, chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

"Daddy called him 'an intriguing, well-read, young man' the other day," Venetia continues as if she hadn't heard you at all, "and mummy called him charming and thoughtful, and much better than 'the last one'," she offers candidly, "she just liked that he liked my brother, I don't think she ever really cared for Eddie himself much," she leans back a little against you, and turns just enough that you can see her smirk at the corner of her lips, "you didn't either, did you? Even before everything happened between me and him?"

Lowering your face, you pressed your lips to her shoulder firmly, taking a moment to compose your thoughts before diplomatically telling her that Eddie didn't matter anymore. It does you no good to ask her why she's bringing this up now, but you still ask. As expected, Venetia ignores the question.

"Where did Eddie go after he was cast out? Rude, by the way," she adds, "he was fun," her tone is so jarringly light, though you know part of it is just to get a rise out of you. You don't take the bait.

"That was your mother's decision, not mine," you offer flatly.

"Did you have him killed?" Venetia's glee at the very idea was downright malicious, playing at sounding scandalised. You don't even want to humour her with a real response, just giving a flat, side-eye, "oh, don't give me that look, I'm sure your parents have plenty of people killed all the time."

"They don't -"

"Or they're just not telling you about it," she shrugs, pondering for a moment, "I think our family could get away with murder given the right circumstances, you know? But I could definitely see Pearl having critics murdered for negative reviews on a whim all the time," at her mention of your mother, your face scrunches up. Unfortunately she did have a point, but you hoped your parents, for all their sins, weren't actually that petty and vindictive.

"You're more my family then they are, Ven," you choose instead to say, and Venetia hummed, taking one of your hands beneath the water, lacing her fingers with yours.

"That's sweet as long as I don't think about it for more then a second," she giggled, tipping her head back against your shoulder, turning her face to yours with a mischievous smile, "but that still means you get one, and I'm asking if you and mummy had Feef's ex-boyfriend murdered and buried beneath the flowers in the fairy garden."

"If we'd had Eddie murdered - which we didn't - I wouldn't have had him used as fertiliser in the fairy garden," you tell her firmly, "my flowers deserve better than that." At that, Venetia snorted a laugh, leaning forward to grab her body wash. Sliding seamlessly to the other end of the tub, she begins to methodically wash herself, starting with her arms. There's little else to do but watch her; you don't want to encourage this conversation if you could help it, but you're not sure where to to go from here.

"He was really quite ghastly, wasn't he?" Venetia says suddenly, not even looking at you.

"What?" Your tone is immediately sharp.

"Eddie; he was awfully cruel to Felix," she elaborates casually, like she's completely unaffected by the sudden intensity of your gaze, "not outwardly," she muses, pausing in her scrubbing as she finally meets your gaze, her own thoughtful, "but, like, insidiously, beyond even cheating on him."

"With you," you remind her harshly, but there's an insistent earnestness in her expression that you really hadn't been expecting as she continues.

"With me, yes, but that's the thing," here she gives pause, as if searching for the right words, "he never talked about you or Felix," she finally says like she still can't quite believe it, "you I suppose I understand, but honestly it did always, I don't know, I suppose it irritated me how little he talked to you or even about you, even when he was around you. But it's like Felix didn't even exist either when he wasn't around him," with each word she speaks, her expression falls just a little more. This is all making you feel rather ill; you can't even bring yourself to want to try and comfort Venetia in some way as she seems so helpless and small with her thoughts fixed on the memory.

"I think I wanted to prove that not everything revolves around my brother," she admits softly, "but I suppose it would always be easy taking something he never really had." Her voice is so small when she turns her far away look upon you, "Eddie never really loved Felix, not really," it's not a question, "there was no regret about hurting him," she mutters bitterly, gaze drifting again. Venetia barks a rueful laugh, "you know he apologised to me? I know he's not dead," she admits, "he called after landing in America before I thought to block him, Summer wasn't even over, he didn't even mention Felix let alone ask if he was alright. I was fine!" She laughs angrily, and when she looks back at you, there's tears in her eyes, "but Felix was -" but it catches in her throat, and it's like she finally sees the hurt and anger in your eyes with all she's admitting to. Immediately her gaze drops, apologetic and self conscious for her self involved outburst given the circumstances; she knows she's not the victim.

Felix was shattered.

Venetia clears her throat suddenly, looking away. When she speaks, when she tells you that she knows you warned Oliver away from her, her tone is forcibly bright. But you can't speak. You don't want to be here, don't want to be around her right now. All of your suspicions about Eddie had been right in the end, and now she had to go ahead and bring up Oliver.

Venetia says your name softly, but you stand.

"I can't do this tonight, Venetia," you tell her coldly. It's a strange feeling, to hear her protest, to hear her almost beg for you to just look at her, but you can't do this tonight. After Eddie, you'd iced her out for the rest of that Summer, but she'd seemed contented; she'd won against Felix and so you were not required to keep her entertained. You'd never stood up to Venetia in any way that mattered before.

"Please," it comes out so small, so fragile sounding. Towel wrapped around yourself, you turn, expression hard as you're able to manage.

"Why?"

"So you do know he's lying," she mumbled uncomfortably, then, "I don't know," Venetia admits after a very long silence. Clutching the lip of the ornate tub, she looks almost like a child again, looking, for the first time in your memory, guilty.

"Is it just like last time? Taking something from Felix?" You accused, finally feeling that anger, that resentment beginning to burn in you, "was it better?" You hissed, "when you realised Ollie actually loves him? Or was it worse?"

"I thought if I could get him to look at me the way he looks at you, it'd prove he doesn't really love you," Venetia blurts out. Her gaze is on the floor, and you've gone entirely still. The next words she speaks are biting, full of frustration, "I hate him. I hate the way he looks at you. I don't care how he looks at Felix, everyone loves Felix."

Oh, there is was, unspoken behind her words. As long as Felix, and only Felix, had your heart, she knows she'll always have you around. If Oliver manages to steal your heart, she's afraid that you'll choose him, and she and Felix will both lose you. Her understanding of it all is childish at best; can't she sees that you're capable of so much more than that. You've never conformed to binary choices like that; doesn't she know you better?

"I'll never forgive you if you fall in love with him," she tells you as you reach the door.

"You'll learn to live with it."

With each step back to your room, that hollow feeling in your chest keeps gnawing at you from the inside out. Shielded from the world by only a towel, you feel, for the first time in a long time, you feel too exposed as you roam the halls of the Saltburn Estate. Farleigh had called you spineless, said you'd let Oliver break Felix's heart, and now he's gone. Venetia had so hated the idea of anyone else loving you that she'd tried to facilitate that heartbreak herself, and now you're leaving her behind. All this for Oliver Quick, for the idea of a boy who might love Felix the way you knows he deserves. But even so, Oliver had been party to Venetia's cruelty against you and Felix, had lied about it, had made you complicit when you'd seen through that lie.

Anything to make sure Felix was happy. That's how you justified your own, whether it be indirect or not, cruelty to those around you. But he'd hurt so much more in the long run; the writing was on the walls.

The moment you step into his room, he turns, surprised. He's on the balcony, half folded into one of the wicker chairs, reading and smoking and looking like a dream. Before you even say anything, he knows something is wrong. When he asks, you can't answer, moving almost robotically to change back into your pyjamas.

"I think I need to talk to Ollie," you mumbled without thinking when Felix takes your face in his hands. You barely see him, still stuck in your own head. He frowns, asks why, asks what's wrong, and the care in his voice brings you out of your trance-like state. Swallowing hard when you finally look him in the eyes, your resolve begins to crumble, "I want to know why he did what he did before I tell you," you admit, voice barely a whisper. Felix's expression darkens for a moment, and his hands move from your face to hold you by the shoulders. It grounds you, but the look in his eyes makes your heart ache.

"What did he do?"

"It's different from last time," you shook your head, already trying to soften the blow for what you're about to admit, "Ollie actually loves you, I don't know why he did it." Pressing your forehead to his shoulder, you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes in this moment.

"What did he do?"

"I need to know why he did it," is all you can manage; you can feel yourself beginning to break, "I need to talk to him, I need to ask, I need to know, because that's the only fucking piece left; why?" Pulling back, away from him, you sink down onto the end of the bed, your face in your shaking hands.

"I know why she did it," you finally admit, "I wish I didn't, but I do. I hate her," comes out through your teeth, bitter and anguished all at once.

"Venetia?"

"They've been lying to you, Felix," you choke out, "been lying to your face, because they love you." All you can do is hope that it's true, "it's why she did it, she couldn't stand the thought of someone else loving me, because she thought if I loved him back, I'd choose him over you, and she wouldn't have me around anymore."

"Vee and Ollie?" Felix already sounds heartbroken when he whispers the words. Without looking at him, you nod. The awful, ugly truth, finally, "and you knew?"

"Ollie pretty much admitted it when I didn't believe his lie; he knows I trust Farleigh with my life," you breathed, finally looking up at him, apology in your eyes. Felix looks as though his world is crashing around him. Again, "since I was the one who saw Ven and Eddie together last year, not him." Felix's eyes go wide at this, stepping back, only to starts pacing, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't believe him?" Felix huffs as he tries to process everything.

"Because I've been trying to find a way to make you believe that what happened isn't like last time."

"But it is!" Felix finally snaps, stopping dead, "I don't want to do this again," his voice cracks, and when he turns to you, there's tears in his eyes, "how can you say it's not?" It's almost pleading, desperate for any kind of hope.

"Because he loves you!"

Immediately, both of your eyes are on the door to the bathroom, holding your breath, fearing Ollie himself may have heard your outburst, may be listening in. You're fairly certain he's not, but your heart is still in your throat.

"I know he loves you, Felix," you finally breathe, hanging your head, "you know he loves you."

"Then why would he -"

"I don't know," you reiterate, desperately, "it's why I need to talk to him." In the quiet, Felix takes deep, shaking breaths, before he sits on the floor before you, legs crossed, his forehead braced against your knee.

"I don't want you to go through that again," you tell him softly, sincerely, carding your fingers through his soft, dark hair.

"We could run away," Felix whispers faintly, echoing words you'd spoken to him just a week ago, when you'd been first dealing with this whole situation and hadn't wanted to admit the truth then either, "like you suggested; get a flat in London, never go back to Oxford, never speak to any of them again," when he looks up, resting his chin on your knee, you see the sadness in his eyes despite his soft smile, "just us."

You both know it's an impossible dream, but still, you huff a soft laugh, your thumb brushing his cheek as you cradle his face tenderly.

"Okay, just us; that's all I'll ever need."

His smile grows just a little wider, leaning into your touch and this moment. But the moment, the idle dream, it has to come to an end. Felix's face falls once more.

"You love him," he sighs gently, mouth pressed into a thin line, "I love him, Y/N," he sounds so helplessly, "I wish I didn't, but I do. I love Oliver Quick, and he's going to break my fucking heart, isn't he?"

"He loves you too, Fi," you assured him gently, "that's why he lied, why..." you take a deep, guilty breath, "why I didn't tell you."

"What the could he even say to salvage this; you warned him about Venetia. The more I think about it, the more I- I- I fucking hate it. Them."

"I don't want you to talk to him," he tells you quietly, his voice calm and serious as he speaks over your protests, "I don't like that you had to do this, that you felt like you had to do this for me. Let me talk to him."

"Fi -"

"You make me happy," he tells you firmly, "everything you do makes me happy; you don't need to do this. Even if me talking to Oliver doesn't make you happy, at the very least, let me do what I can; I want to make sure you're never unhappy for my benefit. I want you to be happy too, I hope you know that."

All your protests die in your throat.

"I do, Fi."

"Then let me do this. This is my relationship too, you don't have to do all of this alone."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi! I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on Rebecca and Eric from "Luster" by Raven Leilani. I just reread it recently and yeah, it is incredible (saying this as an almost 23-year-old Black woman that sort of identifies with Edie).

I really enjoy both Rebecca and Eric as characters - and within their separate relationships to Edie. However, it's really hard for me to understand which scenes/instances - besides the obvious humiliation they both participate in in regards to Edie - that show explicitly Rebecca's issues with rage and Eric's more absolute loserish tendencies.

I mean, I'm not completely unaware of the unsavory ways in which they act; not going to list them all out. But some of the reviews - including yours - and even interviews with Raven Leilani that talk more about the characters, don't go as in-depth as I'm looking for. I feel like the ogre reading Joyce :(

[The lines from the book I've been thinking of most often - though not my favorites are Eric saying "I don't think of you as a person at all" and (I'm gonna get the wording kind of wrong, but) "I cry everywhere and often" near the beginning of the book]

I hope this is asking too much. I really enjoyed your review and I'm already kind of looking forward to reading it again because of it <3

hi anon,

well Rebecca, to me, is impossible to read as anything BUT a white woman hitting middle age and realizing that she made all the "right" choices - she has a job that pays well and she married a stable man and together they adopted a child and got a good house in a good (read: white) neighborhood - and still isn't actually happy with her life.

I mean, what does Rebecca actually have going on? she's exercising furious control over her body via furious physical activity because it's one of the only things she can feel in charge of. she pushes the same on her daughter, making a child count calories in a way that's absolutely going to give her a complex. she didn't want the child in the first place; she tells Edie verbatim that she never wanted to be a mother and while I do think she cares about Akila's well-being I think she also knows that she's wildly ill-equipped trying to parent a traumatized Black girl. she's in an "open" marriage that reeks of "we either had to open the marriage or get divorced" that she micromanages from afar so that Eric gets as little freedom as possible with Edie in the early stage of their relationship; Rebecca doesn't actually want Eric to fuck someone else, she wants him to get tired of trying and come back to her.

after the initial humiliation of trapping Edie at their anniversary party Rebecca remains emotionally distant towards her; even after she invites Edie to stay in her house she stays mercurial and her mood is subject to switch on a dime, always falling back into little power plays to remind Edie she's in charge, because Edie is a safer and easier target for Rebecca's pent up frustrations than her husband or daughter. she's exactly warm enough to Edie to make it hurt more when she's callous and mean, which I don't think is strictly intentional (I don't think Rebecca consciously knows what the hell she's trying to get out of their dynamic, either) but is still an extremely shitty way to treat a vulnerable young woman who's currently completely dependent on her for shelter.

arguably the most relaxed we ever see her is when she takes Edie to a mosh pit, because that's one of the only moments of unrestrained emotional authenticity that Rebecca gets to have - and it's wildly outside the norm of her day to day life, something that she's supposed to have left behind when she started dating Eric. Rebecca is so furiously dissatisfied with everything about her life and I frankly think she'd be happier if she disappeared in the night to go be a bartender or a roadie and never saw her husband or daughter again, but she'll never do that because you Can't do that, not if you're a respectable woman trying to cling to the signifiers of success that you worked so hard for.

re: Eric being a loser I really don't know what I need to cite other than him having a wife and a girlfriend and not treating either of them well tbh

[fagsystem]

I used to never lie. I just never really felt much need to. I couldn't really understand why people would lie. And I grew up completely 100% transparently putting all my information online. So learning that lying can be good and helpful was actually pretty weird for me.

The best example I have is from work. I take calls from all over the country. We're not allowed to give any personal details other than our first names. And sometimes a customer will ask what state I'm in.

I used to honestly tell them I'm not supposed to tell them. It made the call uncomfortable, it felt accusatory to them, and it just interrupted the flow of the call. Now I just lie and say another state.

Sometimes people ask me where I'm from and I just lie and say I was born here. It's close enough to true. Even if it weren't, it doesn't matter. They don't need to know that about me and it mitigates the risk of someone having poor opinions of where I'm from.

It can also help me help others. If I lie and say I was hopeless with our apps before I started working here and got trained in using them, it reassures a customer I'm not judging them and builds their confidence that they can do it too.

And the biggest thing is that customers can't tell the difference between you knowing what you're doing and sounding like you know what you're doing. I rarely ever get terrible calls, and most I can remember were from before I learnt to just. Pretend I know what I'm doing. And the coworkers who usually have bad experiences with customers usually are also the ones who tell the customers they're not sure what they're doing.

And outside of work I find it also just helps a lot. Instead of going into depth about my complicated relationship history and the slow burn with my current partner, I can just say we got together sooner than we did. Others will understand what I'm meaning better that way, especially with the complexity of polyamory.

You're doing yourself and those around you a massive dissservice by treating lying like it's a bad thing. Like many things, it can be used in a bad way, but it isn't within itself bad.

"lying is wrong" what evangelical nonsense is this???