#STOP BUYING ME SHIT AND TELLING ME I DON'T NEED TO PAY YOU MORE IF YOU'RE JUST GONNA HOLD IT OVER MY HEAD

[tittyinfinity]

when you're disabled, being financially abused by your parents never ends

[jaysgirlx]

"Need help sweetheart?" Bookstore Customer!Jason Todd helps you reach the books on the higher shelves. You were his favorite employee and he wanted to make your day easier. He'd been coming here for a while but you always forgot how tall he was and how good his body felt pressed against yours. You only knew how to mumble out a couple words because you didn't know what else to say to a man like that. "Uh sir, you don't need to-"

"Please call me anything but sir sweetheart, you know I'm not new here"

Bookstore Customer!Jason enjoyed teasing his favorite employee aka you of course. He teases you about working at the bookstore even though he's constantly there and he'll always be flirting with you even if you're working the counter that day. He knows he's holding up the line but he's a paying customer so he doesn't care.

"How's my favorite pretty girl doing?"

"M'tired today Jay, I can't handle your nonsense right now"

"Okay that was mean- wait, Jay? that's a first"

"Buy a book or get out Jason"

You could easily tell Jason liked classics and poetry but for some reason he was willing to read your favorites even if they were a smut-filled mess. One time, he backed you up into a corner, after reading one of those books you liked, "Hmm, you like this kind of shit baby? cause I can do all that to you and so much more"

Over time, you learned that Jason also likes to follow you to the store, whispering to you about all the things he could do to you if you'd let him. His hand is always on your hips, pressing his body fully into you. He knows you like it especially when you roll your hips into his when nobody's looking. He wishes you'd use your words and just say you were his but he knew he wasn't even close to getting that, at least not yet.

Jason tried to buy a new book every week, sometimes not even to read. He needed an excuse to be there since your boss has never been fond of him ever since he had caught him feeling you up near the back shelves once. He learned his lesso so now he purposefully buys the books you like, just so he can watch you ramble on and on about them without getting kicked out of the store.

Bookstore Customer!Jason thrived on the feeling he got from watching you go from being so nonchalant around him to the most talkative girl in the world. he wants you comfortable if he's going to fuck you. You find yourself shutting up one time because you thought you had bored him but he quickly gets rid of that thought for you, "Keep talking sweetheart, I'm just wondering how pretty your mouth would look with my cock stuffed down your throat"

"Jay I don't- I can't- I haven't-"

"Don't worry, you will and I'm sure you're a fast learner"

It wasn't that hard for you to notice that Jason got a little jealous when his brother Dick hits on you the first and last time he brings him to the bookstore. Dick easily chats you up and Jason watches the two become a bit too friendly for his liking but it wasn't his place to speak, "Now I see why my little brother brings home so many books"

"It's good he does, I like guys who read"

"I actually quite the fan of classic literature-"

"Oh shut up Dick"

Bookstore Customer!Jason had all your coworkers wondering if you'll ever let the poor guy hit. They weren't sure if Jason was interested in you or your body, regardless they couldn't ignore the smile you got whenever he walk in. Or the way you'd laugh at his dumb jokes. You had him on a leash and you didn't even know what to do with him. He's begging to take you out or just even spent a night with you. He didn't just want you, he needed you. "C'mon I promise to take care of you princess, I'll even take you to that little coffee shop in Bludhaven"

"Who told you about that?!"

"…Dick"

When he finally manages to convince you to let him kiss you, you're nervous as fuck. You thought this was just another one of his antics but no, this was real. He'd promised to stop hitting on you if you felt nothing and you should've know it was bad idea when you could hear your own heartbeat still your let his lips touch yours. It was such a bad idea because before you knew it, he's got you pushed up against the wall, leg parting your thighs with your hands gripping at his shirt. "Jay, more please" Suddenly after all this time, you're pleading for him. Oh how the tables have turned. You're begging for all he's got, and you know he has so much more to give.

"Just give me a moment baby, got be patient" Within a matter of minutes your pants are discarded on the floor, and your panties are still on but being pushed aside while two fingers are being pumped in and out of your pussy. He's got one hand on your hips holding you down while one of your legs is wrapped around his waist. "Didn't I tell you I could do some much for you baby?"

You nod quickly while he's sucking on your poor neck, that would definitely be red all tomorrow. you feel his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard but rough enough to leave a mark. "Now keep quiet, I don't want any of your coworkers hearing us back here" The next thing you know you're cumming on the boy's fingers and he wants you to do it again. and again. and possibly 50 more times if you're willing.

The next time Jason comes, he's holding what you think is flowers and you know he'll be your victim today.

"So I thought real flowers would be cheesy and you'd probably not want to take care of em, so my brothers taught me how to make these paper flowers and…here just take them"

"Wow, I'm getting hand-crafted flowers from THE Jason Todd? Someone must have a really big crush on me huh? Are those bandaids on your fingers? Want me to kiss your boo-boos? "

"Are you going to finally go out with me or do I have to make you cum-"

"Yes yes! Just do not finish that sentence out loud"

"You are soooooooooo in love me"

"Jay, get out"

[evilminji]

You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?

That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.

But!!!

WHAT IF?

They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?

Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.

Riot in the streets.

Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-

Ah.

So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.

One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.

It Fiiiiine, Sam.

He's just here to Talk.

He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.

ON LIVE TELEVISION.

He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~

"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!

And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"

*drops mic*

Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.

Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.

The press secretary faints.

PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!

Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!

And Danny?

Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~

If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.

Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.

(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[postracehair]

paying attention

max verstappen x reader | 1.7k

a minor accident on a night out forces you to call the one guy you're not sure about. will a hospital waiting room clear things up between you?

cw: enemiesish-to-lovers, some blood (from charles), drunkenness (from charles), a hospital

a/n: first time here. let's see how this goes. __

The club is loud, crowded, and sweaty. You are tired, sober, and searching the sea of people for a certain silhouette. 

"He's not here." Oscar grins at you and takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows wiggling. "Max," he says. 

You frown. 

"I'm not --"

"Sure, you're not," he says. 

You're not entirely certain how you got here -- a club in the middle of Monaco with some of the most famous and wealthy guys in the world. An invite from a friend of a friend one time became two times became you rubbing elbows with the likes of Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc and...

Max Verstappen. Who is not here. Which is good, because --

"Why do you hate him, by the way?" Oscar asks. You huff. 

This would be much more bearable if you had a drink in your hand. "I don't." 

Oscar smirks at you. "It's that time he spilled a gin and tonic on you, I bet. You were so mad, I thought he was going to --"

The Australian keeps talking but you stop listening. Your heart beats in time with the thumping music. 

It's not that you hate Max. That would be exaggerating. You just don't know what to make of him. The times he's been out when you're there he's...fine. He makes sure everyone gets on the list, he buys people drinks, and he dances. But you've never really talked to him and maybe you're a little intimidated. Or maybe Oscar is right -- he did spill a drink on you. He probably apologized, but you were too pissed and embarrassed to remember. 

It sounds silly when you think about it now. 

"--just last week, he was saying that he thinks you --"

"Oh, shit!"

"No, Charles, don't!"

"Fuck --"

You and Oscar whirl around to see Charles pressing a rapidly reddening napkin to his palm.  

"Fuck's sake," you mutter. "What happened?"

The glass crunching under your shoes as you head over answers your question. 

"Whoops," Charles says, shrugging. His eyes are glassy and cheeks pink and you know before you lift the napkin that he needs stitches. 

"We're going to the hospital," you say. You think through the logistics -- can you get him there without calling an ambulance? You're not certain where the nearest emergency room is, nor if you can avoid the paparazzi. 

"Call Max," he protests, seeing your mind spinning even through his drunken haze, but you ignore him. 

"Now, Charles." You tug on his sleeve. "Keep this arm up."

It's clear that you're the most sober one here, so you tell the group you're taking him. Hardly anyone notices. Maybe they're all drunk or they just trust you with the Prince of Monaco. Who is being very annoying as you pull him out of the club and into the warm night.

"Call Max," he says again. 

"I heard you, Charles," you say. "We don't need to call him, I'll just call a car--"

"Nooo," he whines. "Just call Max. He'll take us." He shoves his phone at you and holds his injured hand high in the air like you told him to. 

Max will... probably answer. It's summer break and Charles seems to think he's at home. On his sim, or streaming, or whatever really rich guys do at home on a Friday night in Monaco. 

Before you can overthink it, you press the name on Charles's phone and hold it to your ear.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, man," Max says. 

"Um, hey." There's a pause, and then Max says your name. 

"Why do you have Charles's phone?"

You look over at your friend who is examining his poorly bandaged hand. "Du, du, du, du, Max Verstappen," he hums. 

"Can you come get us? Charles cut himself on a glass and needs to get stitches."

"He -- what?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late --"

"Where are you?" It sounds like he's moving around, keys jangling, a door closing.

"I can call a car, but he told me to call you --"

"Where are you?"

You tell him the club name and he hums. "Be there in 10. Don't leave."

"We're not going anywhere," you huff, but he's already hung up.

"Told you," Charles says, knocking his shoulder with yours. You roll your eyes and push his elbow back in the air. 

Max pulls up in a sleek four-door car in way less than 10 minutes. Charles happily gets in the back before you can say otherwise and you only hesitate for a second before sliding into the passenger seat. 

"Don't bleed on the leather, man," Max says, stepping on the gas as soon as your door is closed. The car hums under you and the streets of Monaco start to fly by. "And put your seatbelt on." 

"It's not that bad," Charles whines. "She's worrying too much."

You huff. Max slows to a stop at a red light.

"Hey," he says. It takes a second to register that he's speaking to you. You finally look at him and find his brow furrowed, jaw tight, almost as if he's actually worried. Maybe he is, even if it's just a cut. Or maybe he really is afraid Charles will get blood on the seat.

"Hi," you say. He looks amused for a second then flicks his hand at your waist. 

"Seatbelt applies to you, too."

"Oh," you breathe. "Sorry." Your brain does something funny -- for a second, you imagine Max reaching over you to grab the belt and pull it across your torso, clicking it tight at your hip. 

You blink the image away, cheeks hot, and buckle it yourself. 

"Thank you," Max says before he steps on the gas again. 

Charles rambles in the backseat about something and Max humors him while you swallow down whatever the hell the sudden tightness in your chest is. What an inconvenient time to realize you might have a crush.

There's little to no traffic and you make it to the hospital quickly. Max drops you both at the doors and Charles is stumbling his way through them before you can say thank you. You swallow the unfamiliar taste of disappointment at no longer being in Max's company and get Charles situated.

The waiting room is nice, obviously, but empty. You can hear the hum of the overhead lights beneath the faint classical music playing from somewhere and smell whatever bleach they use to keep this place clean. 

"Hospitals are so depressing." 

You straighten in your chair and turn to see Max. You let yourself look. Green hoodie, sweatpants that look soft and expensive, and sneakers.

"I thought you'd go home," you say. He shrugs and flops into the chair next to yours, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"You'll both need a ride when he's done." 

God, he looks tired. "Sorry."

Max leans forward, elbows on his knees, and turns his face to you. "For what?"

"Calling, I guess." His hair is a mess and you tuck your hands under your thighs so you don't reach for it. God, what is happening to you? "I bet you were busy."

He laughs and it's so unexpected that you laugh, too. "I don't think I'd call cleaning litter boxes busy."

"Well, still," you press. "Thank you."

Max's jaw works like he's chewing on something, eyes on your face. You try very hard not to squirm in your seat. "I think you don't like me very much," he finally says. 

"I -- what --," you sputter. He leans back in his chair with a smirk. "Why?" you manage to say.

"We don't speak," he says. "You avoid me when we're out, you didn't even call me from your phone--"

"I don't have your phone number," you mutter. 

"And it's fine if you don't," he continues. "I just want to know if I'm right."

He looks unbothered, eyes bright and jaw relaxed but his knee is bouncing. You realize that he's been paying as much attention to you as you have to him. You've been watching each other.

"No," you say, softly. "You're wrong."

His knee stills. "So why the distance?"

You sigh. God, this is not how you expected the night to go. You think back to what Oscar said in the club, to Charles demanding you call Max. Maybe this is something everyone else has seen but you. I thought you didn't like me, you don't say. I thought you didn't even care.

Something about the quiet, empty waiting room and the fluorescents and Max's tone when he told you to put on your seatbelt make you want to be honest.

"I think you're intimidating," you confess. A glance at his face reveals that you've managed to surprise him. His eyes are wide and is he...blushing? "And one time you spilled a drink on me."

That gets him to laugh. 

"Oh, god," he huffs. "That was not very well done of me." He looks at his hands, then back at you. "I owe you one."

"A drink? You didn't spill my drink," you remind him. "You spilled yours on me."

"Ehh," he says, waving his hand in the air. "Details."

Is Max Verstappen asking to buy you a drink? Your stomach erupts in butterflies. Who knew you'd be so affected by this man?

Before you can reply, Charles shoves the ward doors open and calls your name.

"Stop flirting," he says, holding up his bandaged hand with a grin. "Time to go home."

Max glances at you and rolls his eyes but his cheeks are still pink. He stands with a huff, digging his keys out of his pocket. 

Charles, still drunk, clearly, rambles about the stitches and how nice the doctors were as you walk to the car. Max sticks to your side.

"Hey," he says. "Give me your phone."

"Why?" you ask, even as you hand it over to him. His thumbs tap on the screen. 

"Now you can tell me when you're free for that drink." 

He passes it back to you and you see that he's added his number. 

"Are you guys even listening to me?" Charles whines.

"Okay, Max," you say softly. 

He grins at you. 

"Oh my goooood," Charles says. "Come on."

"We hear you, mate," Max says. "Let's go home."

[sweaterkittensahoy]

No one here asked me, but Sean and I have been together for 20 years, so here's the shit I say when I DO get asked how it keeps working:

Base level, we fucking like each other. I do not buy into the "you can love someone and not like them." Fuck that. Like is what turns into love. If you are regularly thinking, "I don't like this person," the problem is that you don't like that person. Love can't fix that. Because the love you need to hold onto when you have a moment of not-liking someone can't exist if you don't first like someone.

Which brings me to point two: Kill the perfect romantic who lives in your head. You will annoy the fucking shit out of each other. It happens. For so many reasons. Learn how to say, "Honey, I love you, but I can't deal with this right now." And, for the record, the proper response is "Okay. Got it." not turning it into a whole fucking thing. Yes, it's very romantic to not get tired of someone. But it's much more realistic to be able to say, "Honey, please leave me alone for twenty minutes," and it's must healthier for the other person to go, "Oh, okay! Love you!" / "Love you, too."

Accept that sometimes you're gonna need to fight it out. With this caveat: If it's the same fight over and over again, that's a fucking problem. If it's a fight over the same topic, but you're on a different point in the topic, you're probably okay. For example: If I said, "Honey, please hang up your towel to dry so it doesn't grow mold," and Sean never hung it up, so we kept going round about it, that's a problem. But if I said it, and Sean DID hang it up, but it needed to be spread out, then that's a different thing. "Hey, thanks for hanging up your towel; please make sure it's spread out on the rack so it dries properly."

Also, be flexible about things you ask for. We have a general rule that whoever opens the dishwasher the first time after the dishes are cleaned has to empty the whole thing. But also, if Sean's running late the morning after we do dishes, I'm not going to call him and complain he didn't empty the dishwasher when he opened it to get a fork.

Think of all of this like the fridge making a weird noise. Most of the time, the fridge makes a noise you don't even register because that's the fridge noise. But sometimes, the fridge make a new noise and WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. That's how I think of relationship work. Most of the time, it's just work that gets done in the day-to-day shit. But occasionally, something is OFF and needs immediate attention, so you need to stop and pay attention and fix it.

But also, after your fix the problem, you need to be accept that maybe there are new noises that need to be inspected. For example, if Sean said to me, "Hey, I need thirty minutes after work to myself when I get home," this would be a new thing, but yes, okay. I will do my best. And I will. But maybe I forget the rule because I have something I NEED to tell him that isn't actually a NEED, and so I greet him at the door with a monologue, and he lets me monologue, and at the end he says, "Okay, that's interesting. But I would still like my thirty minutes. I will talk to you after I've had that." He's understanding that I'm doing my best and still reinforcing the boundary I agreed to. What I can do in this situation is thank him for listening and give him his time and try not to jump him with information again because he has made it clear twice that he doesn't want that.

The trick about doing your best, respecting boundaries, and loving one another is truly just doing your best because you love each other. I want a good life. I want Sean to have a good life. We want a life together. We will build a good life by being honest, communicative, and kind to one another. I fold laundry for us both not because I think it's my role as the "wife" but because it's a way to get me on my feet for a few minutes. Sean does the cooking because he enjoys it. I generally handle the dishwasher because he cooks. He gets the car to the mechanic to get the oil changed. I take Bean on her second walk when his day runs long. Do I WANT to take her out? Not always. But I've been at home with an office job all day, not driving around the city to do a physical job. Taking her out for her second walk may annoy me, but the payoff is that Sean comes home and is so happy that he doesn't have to do it and thanks me, and that's what makes it worth it. We acknowledge each other when effort occurs. We make each other laugh. We talk through things. We understand the importance of being able to say, "No, I'm not into it, but you like it, so please keep explaining it." and "Honey, I love you, but I can't do this right now."

It's really just understanding that good communication means folding in the idea that good communication includes saying things you might think you shouldn't have to say. Trust me, saying it means cutting down on the bullshit of not having said it. Say awkward shit to each other. Announce you're doing it. "Hey, this is gonna sound awkward, but I need to say it" because the response from the person you love (in every version of love) should be, "I'm listening. Let's go" because it's about mutual support and care and LIKING one another. And all you gotta do is give back what you deserve to get.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

baby shoes

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, best friend!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, pretty fluffy :), p in v sex, unprotected smut, breeding!, pregnancy kink?, no actual sex while pregnant but lots of like. bump descriptions?

rafe rolls his eyes as you let out a squeal, already knowing what is happening.

“oh. my. god.” you pick up the baby shoes off the shelf, a pair of sparkly flats with the cutest flower straps you've ever seen. “rafe, they're so tiny!”

you hold them up for him to look at as if he's never seen baby shoes before, despite you pointing them out to him every time you're out shopping together.

“yeah, real cute.” he says, keeping his voice completely monotone.

“rafe, don't be so sour.” you pout at him. your friendship is an unexpected one. started in kindergarten and has only grown closer since, your sweet nature in contrast to rafes hard exterior.

“y/n.” rafe sighs, taking the baby shoes from your hands as he sets them back on the shelf. “we look at baby shoes and onesies every time we go to target. i brought you here to buy you a pair of boots, let's go.”

rafe tries to usher you down the aisle. despite you also being a kook he refuses to let you (or, really, your parents credit card) pay for anything.

you nod and continue to the women's section when you cross by a pair of ugg boots made for toddlers and stop in your tracks. “raaaafe!” you coo.

--

look how cute this baby is rafey

“are you serious?” rafe questions reading your text message. “im laying right next to you.”

“too much work to roll over and show you.” you shrug, both scrolling on your phones, having just gotten back from a long day. so long rafe insisted you slept at his because it was closer. only one block closer, but you didn't argue. rafes bed is also yours, and yours his. you've always shared, no need to change now just because you're older.

“that baby isn't even that cute.” rafe huffs out.

you turn over now, rolling onto your stomach to glare at him. “rafe cameron, you are such a dick!”

“oh, so you'll roll over to yell at me?” rafe questions, a smile on his face. usually he wouldn't take shit from anyone, but you're not just anyone to him.

“yes because you deserve it asshole. that baby is adorable.”

“yours would be way cuter.” rafe grins, knowing how flustered you get talking about having a child of your own.

“okay, true.” 

--

“what the fuck is going on?” rafe questions, his mouth literally dropping as he walks in.

“oh my god!” you squeal. “you told me you were coming over at 2, you idiot!” 

rafe looks at the time on your alarm clock. 1:55. rafe may have not knocked before letting himself in, but he figured it was fine. 

“what are you wearing?”

“it's… it's a fake pregnancy belly. my friend carly who works with the school plays said they were getting rid of it bc it was getting old… and i asked to have it.” you shrug, your embarrassment melting away the longer you talk about it.

“why would you want that?” rafe questions.

“i just wanted to see what id look like.” you shrug, turning again to look at yourself in the mirror, running your hands over the tshirt stretching around the plastic material. “i think i look cute.”

rafes eyes are on the round swell of your belly. he thinks you look more than cute, he thinks you look so ravishing he wants to make that belly real right this second.

“gonna take a shower.” rafe makes a turn towards your bathroom before you can argue, saving himself by locking the door behind him.

-- 

“why are you in a mood?” rafe just entered your house but he can already tell from the look on your face that something has upset you.

“freaking kelsey is pregnant.” you spit her name out like it's an insult. she's been your sworn moral enemy ever since she “dated” rafe in the fourth grade and told him he had to choose between staying friends with you or dating her. he chose staying friends of course, but you've despised her anyways since.

“okay…” rafe waits for more reasoning to you being so upset.

“that should be me.” you whine, not ashamed as you throw a little tantrum, stomping your feet on the ground.

“it can be.” rafe shrugs.

“huh?” you question, plopping back on the couch behind you, waiting for rafe to join you for movie night.

“you're not a kid anymore, y/n. you're 21. have a baby if you want.” rafe simply states.

“i- who would i even have a baby with? im single.” you've been single a majority of your life. there were flings in high school, but no one that lasted.

what you don't know if rafe contributed heavily to those relationships ending. he had staked his claim on you, and no guy was worthy in his eyes.

“id help you raise a baby.” rafe says without really thinking, sitting down on the couch next to you, not flinching as you turn to place your feet on his lap, always wanting to stretch out and get comfortable.

“you would?”

“im with you all the time anyways.” rafe nods. “if you had a baby id basically be their dad anyways.”

“id want that.” you admit. “you're the only guy out there i trust enough to get me pregnant.” you're not really thinking about your words themselves as you press your fingers to your stomach, imagining it filled up with a baby, with rafes baby.

“alright, we gotta talk about something else.” rafe shifts on the couch, pushing your feet off his lap to turn himself slightly away from you.

“wait why?” you question, sitting forward.

“just… change the subject.” rafe takes a deep breath, trying to calm down the boner that is growing in his pants.

“no, tell me!” you move closer, which only makes rafe turn away more. “tell me, rafey!”

he's never kept anything from you, and shockingly you can't figure out why he's behaving like this now.

“jesus, stop!” rafe scooches away when you grab onto his arm, trying to get him to face you, to look at you.

“tell me!” you complain again.

“because im fucking hard okay!” rafe shouts, standing up from the couch. “it's getting me fucking hard thinking about getting you pregnant so change the fucking subject!”

you sit on the couch in shock, eyes wide open. you know you shouldn't, he's your best friend after all, but you find your eyes moving lower, and sure enough, the front of rafes pants and tented, cock pushing away from his body.

“i-i-” you stammer.

“you nothing. okay? we forget this happened. just stop talking about getting fucking pregnant and stop talking about me being the one to do it.”

“but i want it to be you.” you blink up at rafe, head suddenly clearing. you do want it or be rafe. he's the only one who should be waking up in the middle of the night with you when your baby cries. he's the one you want to experience every milestone with. he's the one you want filling you up over and over until your tummy starts to swell.

“we can't go back.” rafe says, his tone suddenly serious. “we can't go back to just friends.”

“i know.” it's all you need to say for rafe to surge forward, dropping his knees to the floor as he kisses you, mouth easily dominating yours. you let out a soft moan as his hands cup your jaw, keeping you close even though you press yourself into him, hands fisted in his shirt.

“let me have you.” rafe pants against your mouth. “i need you. let me fill you up.”

“yes.” you nod. “yes, please. take your clothes off.”

you don't care that you're in the middle of your living room, you immediately tug your shirt off over your head, bearing your breasts to him. rafe knew you never wore a bra when in your own home, but seeing your bare tits is still a shock.

he doesn't even take his shirt off despite you tugging at it, cupping your chest as he leans in, mouth wrapping around your nipple.

“oh my god!” you squeal, fisting your hands in rafes hair, holding him close to your body as his tongue flicks over your nipple, hardening it quickly.

“i… im sorry baby i need to get inside of you.” rafe feels crude, tugging at your shorts to pull them down your legs, tossing them away.

“i need you too.” there will be plenty of time now that you've admitted feelings for each other to take your time, to go slow and learn each other's bodies.

rafe stands up, looking down at you in just your underwear, eyes glassy with lust as he pulls his shirt off, followed by him tugging his pants down, finally getting your eyes off his face as your eyes move down. you reach forward, hand rubbing over rafes length, annoyed that the fabric of his underwear is not allowing you to see him properly.

“fuck, stop.” rafe takes a step back. “im supposed to cum in you. get you pregnant. you're gonna make me bust.”

you smile, flattered that your simple touch can cause him to almost lose it.

“where do you want me.” you whisper. you aren't a virgin but you certainly aren't as experienced as rafe. while you know he partakes in hookups at parties you don't attend, you were never interested in sleeping around just for the sake of sleeping around.

“just lay back, baby.” rafe let's out a huff as you turn from sitting on the couch to laying down, your breasts falling beautifully as you wait for him to make the next move. “let's get these off.” rafe pulls your underwear down, but you keep your legs together to hide yourself for a little longer.

rafe shucks his underwear off next, praying his throbbing erection doesn't cause him to cum the second he gets inside of you.

you let out a low moan just from the both of you being naked. “gonna kneel down. wrap your leg around me.” rafe helps position you, spreading your legs as his eyes take in your wet cunt, pretty and perfect as he wraps your knee around his hips as he sinks himself down, moving to drape his body over yours.

“ill go slow.” rafe says, hoping he can stay true to his word as he reaches down, running his cock briefly through your folds, obsessed with the way your expression changed into one of pure pleasure.

“okay, just at first.” you nod. you need slow to open you up, to stretch your walls to allow rafes size, but you dont want it to stay slow, needing to feel him pound into you, make a mess of your cunt.

rafe sinks in with a gasp as your tightness and warmth envelops him. “fuck.” he mutters out, eyes squeezing closed as he inserts himself until he’s fully buried inside you pussy.

“feels real good rafey.” you pout. “cant believe we didn’t do this sooner. could already have a baby by now.” “oh, im gonna give you plenty.” rafe bends down to kiss you, letting himself get lost in the kiss, focusing on your mouth against his to distract from his throbbing cock.

“move.” you gasp, starting to grind your hips. “move.”

its all rafe needs to start smashing his hips back and forth, rocking into you in a steady but fast motion, aiming every time to get his cock as deep inside of you as possible.

“yes, yes!” you squeal, hands gripping his shoulders. as good as rafe thrusting into you feels, you want his cum more than anything. you begin to squeeze your pussy around him every time he pulls out before thrusting back in, and you can tell from the way rafes mouth hangs open that he likes it.

“fuck, im already close, sorry.” rafe has never had a problem cumming too early with anyone else, but hes never been with you, his best friend who he’s been head over heels for since kindergarten, who is begging to have him put a baby in your womb.

“cum in me. please.” you don’t even care about your own orgasm. you don’t even want it, already feeling so overwhelmed from the way rafes cock swells inside of you.

your eyebrows raise when you realize what the warmth spreading inside of you is, never having let a man take you without a condom. you let out a moan to match rafes as he cums, flooding your insides as he grinds into you. 

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto you, not caring about the weight as you squeeze your cunt, milking any last drops out of him.

--

“oh my god, i’m gonna cry its so cute.” tears brim in your eyes as you look at your finished nursery, rafe having done the last of the decorations when you were napping, putting the final touches on.

“you're so cute.” he hums, wrapping his arms around you as he stands behind you, also looking over the room. 

“thank you. its perfect.” you sniffle.

“you’re perfect.” rafe has been overwhelming you with compliments lately, wanting to make sure that you know he is still very much attracted to you with your pregnant belly. “and beautiful. and hot. and sexy.” “oh, stop it.” you roll your eyes with a giggle, turning to face rafe.

“it would be inappropriate to have sex in our babies nursery, wouldn’t it?” despite the baby not even being here yet, rafe looks around the former guest bedroom and realizes that it simply wouldn’t be right.

“you’re not getting me on the floor anyways.” you press your hands to your stomach. seven months along with rafes baby.

“probably for the best.” rafe places his hand on your back, leading you out of the nursery and towards your bed. “wanna eat you out on our bed anyways, mamas.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @soilderpoetandking @auryyz

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

mall security guard!Caleb catches MC shoplifting...

au: they don't know each other // cw: dubcon, creep!Caleb, lingerie, orgasm denial

Caleb was sick of this job. It's wasn't like being a security guard was his passion- it was just something to pay the bills while he was in school. Usually all he had to do was kick out rowdy teens and reunite old ladies with their lost purses. But today was different. Today, he had a pretty little shoplifter in his office, pouting in the chair across from his desk.

"So. I heard you walked right out of a store without paying for anything, is that right? That's a bold move. Sorry it didn't work out this time."

She rolled her eyes. "Is it really that big of a deal to you? What a boring life you must lead." She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. "How often do you do this, huh? Act all high and mighty, cosplaying a real cop?"

Caleb narrowed his eyes. "How often do you steal shit from the mall? Most delinquents grow outta that around sixteen." He knew she was just trying to get a rise out of him, but he couldn't resist adding, "And I don't need a gun."

She laughed. "Right, you're real intimidating Mister..." She leaned forward to squint at his nametag. The sudden proximity brought a rush of her perfume to his nostrils, sharp and sweet, like flowers wrapped in aluminum. She tapped her acrylics on the desk and he startled, his cock twitching guiltily against his thigh. "Caleb. Or should I call you Officer?" She smirked at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Did she? No. She couldn't have noticed that he was half-hard, sweating at his hairline- she was just trying to play him, get off easy with a little flirting. He wasn't about to make this easy. "You don't need to call me anything. You just have to wait here until the police show up." That threat finally seemed to have some effect. She stiffened, the fake smile falling off her face.

"You didn't call the police. I barely even took anything!"

"Barely even took anything?" He parroted, with a grin of his own. "Careful, pretty thing. Sounds like you're incriminating yourself. Let's let them handle the charges, hm?"

She flushed at the pet name but bit back a retort. Caleb walked slowly around the desk and stopped beside her chair. She had to tilt her head back to see him now- he noticed her pulse ticking in her neck. Good. Maybe she could learn her place after all.

"Now, where did you hide the stolen goods?"

"I don't-" Caleb put his finger to her lips, relishing in the way it made her gasp, freezing to the seat.

"Shh. Don't lie to me, now. Either you can tell me where you stashed 'em, or I can search you." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip then let his hand fall to her shoulder, squeezing softly. "I know which option I'd prefer."

"You're a fucking creep." She jerked her shoulder away, but he just shrugged.

"Fucking creep, fake cop, I don't really care what you call me, sweets. As long as you understand that I'm in charge. Do you need me to make it clearer?" Caleb leaned in and ghosted his lips over her neck, breathing deep.

"Okay, okay, ugh!" She pushed him away and reached under her shirt. He raised his eyebrows, but she just scowled and yanked out a bundle of fabric, tossing it at him. It was still warm from her body heat. Caleb unfolded it slowly, trying not to look too curious.

He revealed a set of expensive lingerie, all delicate lace and straps. It was rich, juicy red, like a ripe apple. He couldn't help but laugh, more so when he caught the expression on her face. The girl looked like she wanted to melt through the floor, her cheeks as red as the underwear. "Shut the fuck up, okay? That's all I took, I swear."

With effort, Caleb controlled himself. He held them up in front of her face and let out a low, mocking whistle. "Nice choice. Really nice. Who're you lifting these for, huh? Some deadbeat boyfriend who couldn't buy them for you himself?" She glared at him and he knew he'd hit the mark. "Poor thing. It's a shame. I'm sure you'd look stunning in this."

"Wouldn't you like to know, asshole."

"You know what? That gives me an excellent idea." He tossed the set into her lap and made a show of turning around, his hand over his eyes. "Put it on."

"Excuse me??"

"Well... I have no intention of letting you take these home. But I know you need someone to give you the attention you crave so badly. You won't be able to show it off for your sad little boyfriend, why not me?" He turned back to give her his most charming smile, the effect ruined somewhat by the jingle of handcuffs on his belt. "Am I so bad?"

Her eyes were locked on the handcuffs. "This is insane."

He shrugged, still smiling. "A fashion show beats a trip to the station, doesn't it?"

"You're getting off on this, freak."

Caleb didn't deny it. "I'm waiting."

For a moment, she scrunched the fabric up in her fists as if she would throw it back at him. But she slumped under his firm gaze. She didn't have the power here, and they both knew it.

"Fine. Just, turn around."

Caleb smiled and nodded condescendingly. "Of course."

She hesitantly lifted her shirt, watching to make sure he kept to his word. Out of sight, Caleb licked his lips at the sound of rustling fabric. His pants were uncomfortably tight now, his cock straining at the crotch of his uniform. But he didn't turn around.

Shameful heat prickled up her neck as she stripped. Not wanting to be fully naked for even a moment with him, she put on the lacy bra before stepping out of her panties. Now for the bottoms- a strappy mess of elastic and garters. She swore as the straps tangled around her thighs. Why did she have to pick such a complicated set?

"Need help, sweets?" Caleb laughed, and she hated him even more.

"Absolutely not." She tried to tug them up, but both her legs were in the same hole, and the seams threatened to rip around her thighs. Fuck, she just wanted this over with, needed to-

"You're useless on your own, huh?" Suddenly, he was in front of her, grinning smugly, bright eyes locked on her exposed pussy. "Poor thing." He dropped smoothly to his knees and began untangling the straps. His hands were huge, and strangely warm- he lifted her leg out of the knot and guided it into the right hole. "There we go."

He pulled the panties up and settled them on her hips. His touch was possessive, confident, sucking the fight from her without words. It took too long for her to find her voice again, to shove his hands away- "I didn't ask for your goddamn help."

He sat back on his heels, looking wounded. "But you needed it." He said it so sincerely, like it really was that simple. Again, she felt herself being lulled into the sense of security he offered, the ease of letting him- no no no! This whole thing was so fucked- he was taking advantage-

But now those strong hands were around her thighs, pushing them wider, kneading the soft flesh. Now that disarming smile was pressed against her inner thigh, soft lips moving closer to her core, an unwanted arousal growing between her trembling legs. "I was right," he murmured.

"I- huh?" She tried to catch her breath, suddenly dizzy. Her skin burned in every place his lips touched.

He pulled back and smiled up at her. "You do look stunning in this."

She hated herself for blushing, for momentarily accepting the compliment from the man who had just forced her to strip for him, for feeling her heart pound at his cocky smile, the way he knelt in front of her. She stepped back, trying to put distance between them, to clear the fog in her mind.

Her back hit his desk and she stumbled. Caleb rushed forward to catch her, so easily, like he'd seen it coming- she was too flustered to notice the way she almost floated into his arms, hardly falling at all.

He looked down at her with faux concern, imperceptibly turning off his Evol. "You really are helpless." She could feel the corded muscles of his arms around her waist and shoulders. The lingerie barely covered anything, and Caleb took full advantage, his gaze roaming hungrily over her body. "Beautiful and helpless. It's a dangerous combination, ya know?"

His fingers traced the hem of her bra, then grew bolder, cupping her breasts. The thin lace did little to hide the way her nipples peaked as he thumbed at them. He tugged teasingly at the straps, slipping one down her shoulder. "I could do anything I wanted to you right now."

She fought to keep her voice steady. "You said you just wanted to see me in this. And you have, so we're done here, right?"

"Aww but now that I've seen you, it's hard to let you go, sweets..." Caleb held her closer and bent his head to her neck, breathing in her scent. Sweat, perfume- he couldn't help pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck, sighing as he tasted her. "I could take good care of you..." The words were almost lost against her neck, a heated mumble.

Trapped between his hold and the desk, she could only turn her head and push weakly against his chest. His broad, chiseled chest, straining the buttons on his uniform...she was caught between wanting to give in and wanting to get the hell out of this office with some of her dignity intact.

Caleb seemed eager to make the decision for her. His cock throbbed, pressing into her ass as she squirmed in his arms. "Come onnn. Let me show you a good time. Maybe I'll even let you keep that set, hm?" His wandering hand dipped down between her plush thighs, fingering the deep red lace.

"You don't think I'm that cheap, do you?" Her breath hitched as Caleb's fingers found the damp spot on her panties. She felt him smile against her jaw.

"This all for me?" He pressed lightly, smearing the slick over her lips. "You filthy girl. So much for returning these." Her wetness bled through the thin fabric, coating the tips of his fingers. Caleb brought his hand to his mouth and sucked it off with a soft moan.

The sight of it brought another flare of heat to her core- wanton and wanting. She spread her legs, just the tiniest bit, and he groaned. "There we go. Let me take care of you." He bent down and placed her on his desk, then hooked his hands beneath her knees and pressed them wider apart. He bent down and looked up at her. "C'mon, say ya want me."

She bit her lip and looked away. He had to be more convincing, then. Caleb nipped at the soft skin of her inner thigh, laughing at her squeak of surprise. He kissed his way higher until she felt his warm breath puff against her core. "She's twitchin' for me," he breathed, brazen now, eyes locked on the outline of her folds against the dampening crotch, translucent with slick. "And I don't see ya stoppin' me."

He pressed his lips to her pussy, the lingerie more like tissue paper now, hardly anything between them. He hummed into her warmth, holding her hips against the desk. She squirmed, clinging to his shoulders as if to ground herself, but there was no gravity to hold her down anymore. Caleb licked a thick stripe up her cunt and she bucked her hips up into his mouth, instinct taking over. She hid her burning face in his hair, still pressing up into his eager tongue.

"Eager, huh? Where's that mouth of yours gone?" Caleb pulled her panties aside with his teeth, and she throbbed at the tease, needing more- even though the smirk in his voice made her want to slap him.

"Shut the fuck up," she managed, but it sounded weak even to her own ears.

"If that's what you want..." Caleb sing-songed, before hooking her legs over his shoulders and burying his face between them. He ate her sloppily, like he was starving for it, using his lips and tongue and teeth to taste every part of her, holding her wider so he could slurp at her clit before letting go just to feel her thighs close around his head.

It was too intense, too fast- he didn't warm her up, just dove in like she belonged to him. She writhed and whimpered under his mouth, spewing curses and praises in the same breath. "Fuck you, you fucking- oh my god, yes..."

For all his intensity, Caleb was paying attention- when a certain spot made her breath hitch and break, he doubled his efforts, sucking hard or licking deeper until he felt her hands yanking at his hair in a desperate attempt to slow him down.

"You can handle it, that's a good girl, little fuckin' thief..." His face was a mess, spit and juices coating his chin when he came up for air. She tried to push back, to catch her own breath, but too soon Caleb was back to devouring her- filthy and smug, knowing he had her dizzy with every lap at her sticky-sweet walls.

She hardly even noticed that she was panting "please", not sure anymore if she wanted him to free her, to fuck her, or make her cum on his tongue. She was close to the last one, at least, but Caleb felt like being mean.

Her head was thrown back, fists clenched in his hair, teetering on the edge of orgasm and fighting to hold back moans- almost past the point of caring where the pleasure came from as he built her up to her peak. Caleb waited until he felt her cunt spasm, her puffy clit twitching in his lips, then pulled away completely.

"What- what the fuck!!" She stared at him in hazy disbelief, rolling her hips up as if to chase his mouth. Her voice was almost a whine, desperate and deprived: "Why did you stop??"

Caleb picked up her discarded shirt and wiped his mouth with it. "You're a shoplifter in my mall." He shrugged, an infuriating smile on his face. "Why should I make you cum?" He patted her cheek condescendingly. "What kind of lesson would that teach, hm?"

"Lesson? Oh you arrogant assh-" She was cut off as Caleb tossed her clothes at her and turned back around, as if he hadn't just been tongue-fucking her senseless.

"Go on, get dressed. I'll let you off with a warning. No cops, you're welcome." He mock-saluted at the wall.

Still half in disbelief, she stripped off the lingerie and put her clothes back on, wrinkling her nose at the mess he'd left on her shirt. Her pussy ached, soaked and needy for something she clearly wasn't going to get. The embarrassment settled back into anger as she zipped up.

He turned back around, her embarrassment flaring back into anger at how casual he looked, hardly a hair out of place as he walked back over to her. "The stolen goods?"

She rolled her eyes. "What, I can't keep them now?"

"Sure, keep the bra. Maybe your boyfriend will like it after all." He held out his hand. Her cheeks burned, but she understood what he wanted. She dropped the soaked panties into his palm. He held them to his nose and inhaled, making sure she was watching, then winked and tucked them into his uniform pocket.

She glared at him, but he only chuckled. "You're really cute. Come steal somethin' again soon, okay?"

He opened the door and held it for her, gesturing her through like a perfect gentleman. She made it halfway out, then paused and looked over her shoulder. "Fuck you, Caleb."

He gave her his most charming smile. "Maybe next time."

an: my first time writing for lads! I want to do more of it - would love requests if anyone has them! my personal favs are Zayne and Sylus but I'd write for anyone :3

[jimblejamblewritings]

On Wyll and Astarion

This is actually not going to be about fandom racism in regards to Wyll or a content comparison (although those are very valid posts that should always be looked at). I was thinking about why in canon of the game, no matter what some people insist, Astarion and Wyll hit it off right away and are very good companions. Like they should have a constant distaste of each other as monster vs monster hunter but they don't.

I think it's because Astarion sees his mortal self in Wyll and Wyll very quickly understands how Astarion became the person he is today because it's a path Wyll is starting to go down. Follow me...

I don't think Astarion was a corrupt magistrate. Personally, even if a particular scene involving Ansur didn't lend evidence to my thought, I would still think this. Corrupt magistrate becomes monster and learns better after being abused is so boring. Tired trope, yawn, next. I think it's compelling if Astarion did his job perfectly. Not that he was a good person -- he's perfectly normal in his mortal life, not too good and righteous but not bad either. And that's the problem.

Astarion as a magistrate refuses to let his personal anecdotes, life experience, or bias enter his courtroom. He's there to administer the law and that is all he will do to a fault. He cannot be swayed by anything even when he probably should. If it is against the law then it is against the law. He will dole out the proper punishment and that is that. If you want to appeal then you do it through the proper legal system and he will hear you out because that's his job. But he doesn't want to hear anything outside of that.

(more below the cut)

You stole bread to feed your family? Petty theft and not malicious, pay a fine or spend a few days in jail. You broke something in someone's store but can prove it was an accident? Buy the broken item and the store owner needs to get out of his court. You think someone stole your customers through defamation of your business? No proof, no witnesses, then he doesn't care if your ledgers show a significant drop right when the other business opened. A follower of the law so rigidly that it's a fault.

However, in most cases, people that come into his court simply complain and move on because he's never been corrupt. Until the Gur and Cazador. The Gur have been noticing their children going missing and have great reason to believe it's Cazador. (Astarion isn't Cazador's first spawn but one of his firsts so probably the 2nd or 3rd spawn created so all the children being taken are from the one or two spawn created before him).

Astarion agrees to listen to their case because missing children is a big deal. Both the Gur and Cazador are in court but Astarion doesn't give a shit about the tense courtroom, he will have decorum and they will get to the bottom of this. But there simply isn't enough proof that it is Cazador. There's not really any proof aside from the missing children. Astarion won't simply dismiss the case because there are still missing people but he won't call for the arrest of Cazador either. He tells the Gur to come back with stronger proof of either Cazador or the real criminal if not him and he will listen. He tells Cazador that he isn't off the hook just yet but not about the Gur... about potentially incorrectly filed ledgers.

Cazador knows between the Gur on his trail and Astarion's intense way of being a magistrate that he might get caught. But he knows how to kill multiple birds with one stone. He needs to be rid of the Gur on his trail in court, he needs to stop any looking into his ledgers, he needs Astarion gone, he also needs a new spawn now to continue his ascending plans and -- well -- Astarion happens to be a very pretty elf.

So, Cazador lets one Gur child go. Except they're enthralled. They tell the Gur all the lies Cazador wants them to believe, including that Astarion is being paid off to hide the crimes of who stole them. The Gur know where Astarion lives. It's not exactly a secret because he has no need to keep it a secret. So they attack him for what they (understandably) believe he has done. They leave him for dead in his home and get out before anyone can notice and send for city guards. They're sure he'll bleed out with how badly they mangled him.

That never happens. Cazador was simply a street away, waiting for them to leave. He needs Astarion to invite him in to turn him. But in the elf's state of delirium from the attack and the bloodlust, he doesn't even register how it's suspicious that Cazador doesn't just help him right away but has to ask can he come in and help him. Astarion unknowingly invites him in and invites the bite. This also colors why he's so rude about the Gur. Yeah, it's a bias and a prejudice because as far as he knows, they jumped him for nothing and are horrible people.

Fast forward through the years of abuse and lack of autonomy all the way up until the nautiloid. Astarion has learned that following the law exactly got him in this mess. Being a good person isn't real because good people (like Cazador who saved him) always want something and will turn bad in the end. Not a single god, good or evil, cared to help him so he should stop praying. And punishments don't always fit the crime -- down to the fact that some people get punished for a crime they never committed -- therefore all criminals should be punished to the highest degree to deter them and others.

When he meets Wyll, the only thing he can see is an idealistic version of his mortal self. Wyll is so determined to bring justice, serve the law to criminals. While Wyll is more into the good and heroic of it, they both had the same goals. Except Astarion already knows how that ended. Yet, Wyll is so sure of himself and optimistic that Astarion can't help but like him even if he no longer believes in any of those things.

Then we have Wyll who we already know has similar views to mortal Astarion. And in real time, we see Wyll learn the same lesson Astarion did all those years ago in regards to Karlach. Really, Wyll learned this lesson awhile ago when his dad cast him out but he was so young and didn't see it as such. But in reality: Mizora is his Cazador. His Dad is his Gur. And becoming a tiefling/devil in looks is his vampirism.

Wyll's entire world view is shattered when he spares Karlach. He understands Astarion now. But also, a beauty of it is that Wyll will never get as dark in his thoughts as Astarion because he has the vampire. He sees Astarion improve and start to somewhat believe in his old mortal view through this adventure with their companions who are trying their best. He sees Astarion accept that good does exist in the world every time Tav/Resist!Durge refuses to give up on him. And Wyll knows that it means he's right. Good and heroism does exist and because of that Wyll can start to accept the shit that happened to him because he already has confirmation that he'll be fine and make it out in the end.

And I really like that so many of the companions are mirrors to each other or puzzle pieces for each other. The way Wyll and Astarion work is one of my favorite companion mirroring.

[guzhufuren]

if you follow me, or simply see this and have 1 free minute, could you read this post please? i'm in desperate need of as many and as varied ideas as possible from different perspectives and people

i cannot bear to stay where i am much longer, living here is killing me from inside, i'm clawing at the walls. i want to move countries, cut ties with almost everyone, have the freedom of marrying anyone i want, adopt, change gender marker, work in a region where my preferred job field is much more progressive and valued, and stop holding myself back from living. i know what country i will move to and which work program i will go through for it. but in order to do that i need savings and money to get shit done like documents and gender affirming stuff. to do that faster i need a job with as high of a pay as i can get. i really want to get the fuck out of here in 6 or 8 months

i want to kindly ask, please if you have an idea of a job that would be a possible fit for my needs, no matter what it is, leave it in replies here or in anons. might be something innovative and unusual, or might be something obvious that i haven't thought of before

further info under the cut

- note, i live in Kazakhstan so almost any eu/us/nz/au jobs are considered high paying to me because of our enormous difference in the currency value. in case of a possibility of remote job done from faraway i can figure out the taxes issue

my skills and characteristics that can be helpful to think of something, but also not limited to those: - fluent in 2 languages (russian and english) - adaptable, very fast learner, good at finding things and doing varied tasks, analytical - fast to make people open up to me, charm them - good at promoting stuff, but it's fully self-learned from experience - good with computer shit, passable in photoshop - conventionally attractive (it has been helpful in all customer service jobs) - almost completed a childcare degree, have all skills that come with handling kids - though i do not have a degree yet. i quit astrophysics major a decade ago and will only finish my bachelors in early childhood education this summer

jobs that i have done before:

- the most successful and longest one: store chain manager where my position combined responsibilities of offline store manager, sales manager and internet store manager. promotion of top-price brands and their growth in popularity, training personnel, working with vip clients, working with suppliers, choosing and purchasing all products, social media advertising, fully taking care of online store too - various sales - real estate agent

jobs i do not consider: - jobs that will require me to go to another country and exchange stuff. i specifically need money so i can do that in the future, and the whole problem is i cannot do that right now without a security blanket to to fall on. or rent funds - childcare jobs (the field is in the ditches here, the aim is to earn money, not put myself into debt) - teaching jobs, same problem - persuading people to buy anything - translating text. i am horrible with written speech, very very poor writer's skills - the kind of customer service where you have to prostrate yourself to customers. i don't have patience to take shit anymore - please don't suggest sugar dating. done that. trauma

i can easily find a job on my own but i wanted to be smarter about it this time and consider everything, use all resources including this blog. if you thought of anything, please tell me

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Slash x reader where reader is like depressed and shit and no one notices but him

A/n: Kind of not the same thing you wrote but Slash with depressed reader

Warnings: Depression, Slash yelling (if you can picture that, man is soft), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

"Open the fucking door!" Slash yelled, banging on the front door to your apartment. An older woman who lived by you gave him an odd look as she passed but he couldn't care less. "Answer the fucking door! I know you're in there!"

He'd seen it all happen, it took him too long to realize and he hated himself for it but it didn't matter right now, all that mattered was that you were safe. Of course, he couldn't see you through the door.

You were distancing yourself from him, turning down his invitations to dinner whether it was a restaurant or just ordering pizza. He never found you already in bed when he came home, in fact he found your key he'd given you in the kitchen.

You smiled when you were with him but he'd catch you staring out the window. If you were in bed with him you were on your side and scrolling through your phone.

Slash took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. His yelling was probably scaring you, he never yelled at anyone, let alone at you. He never raised his voice and he didn't bang on doors. Not just because he knew how much bigger he was than you, he just wasn't a violent person.

It didn't stop the doors latch from snapping off when he hit the thing again, making it swing open. He made a quick mental note to pay for it before looking further into your apartment.

There was garbage everywhere, you hadn't cleaned in weeks and you hadn't left your house in days. That's what finally tipped him off, he realized he hadn't heard more than a few texts from you 'good morning' 'goodnight' 'I love you'.

He looked to the kitchen and found you slumped against the fridge. Panic filled him and he raced over to you, kneeling next to you and looking you over. He had no training in anything, he had no idea what he was doing or what he was looking for.

He kept repeating your name and pleading for you to say something, anything while he desperately searched for your pulse. He at least knew where your pulse points were but he wasn't sure what good was supposed to feel like so he kept feeling his own heartbeat, of course he kept getting a shock from his pacemaker.

"Say something." He muttered, turning your head to him. "Anything?" He waited another moment before he picked you up and set you on the counter, unintentionally banging your head on the cupboard above. "Say something, for the love of god!" He yelled, holding you by the shoulders.

You blinked, staring at him blankly. "Why are you here?" You asked, voice raspy and weak.

His hold on you tightened. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He gave you a shake. "Because I fucking love you and you're in here looking half fucking dead, what the hell happened?!"

Tears pricked your eyes, no words formed for you to say. You wanted to apologize, to tell him you were going to try better, to fix yourself. Instead you just leaned forward and fell into him.

He couldn't very well push you off so he wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'll get this place fixed, alright?"

You shook your head. "I-I'll do it, it's my mess."

"No." He stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You're going back home with me, and you're going to stay there because you need someone, you don't get to just fuck off anymore." He pulled you off the counter and carried you out of the apartment.

"The door." You mumbled, looking back at it as it swung sadly.

"No one's going in there, they'll take one look and know nothings worth stealing." He explained. He spoke again before you could say anything. "No one's going to assume you have someone to buy you nice shit, they'll see the place is trashed and figure someone got to it first."

You had to believe him, he used to be a thief so it's not like he was pulling shit out his ass. You also had no energy to fight him, no will to.

He carried you out to his car and buckled you in, kissing your forehead before closing the door and walking around to the drivers side.

While he drove he made a few calls, cleaning services and someone to fix your door, he was getting you your damage deposit back while hinting to you that you were moving in with him.

He wasn't actually going to make you do anything, he walked you right to his room. He had his arm around you but he wanted you to walk.

Slash stopped you from going to the bed and led you to the bathroom instead. "Bath or shower?" He asked.

"Sleep." You mumbled.

"That's not an option right now, bath or shower?" He repeated, hands resting on your hips. "A bath would be warm, smelling salts and all that shit... but a shower would be quick, so pick."

You thought for a long moment, leaning on him because it was easier than forcing yourself to stand. "You'll be in there with me..?" He nodded without hesitation. "Bath..."

He let you slump back on the tiled floor while he went to get you some clothes to change into, a shirt of his and some old shorts, he wasn't sure where they came from but he figured they'd fit you.

The bath was just what you needed. It relaxed your muscles and you melted into Slash. He even placed a facecloth over your eyes so didn't have to look at yourself. He wasn't making you do anything for a while, he'd encourage you and make sure you took care of yourself, but he understood depression to an extent.

You'd sleep with him, he'd say nothing but sweet things to you, he'd make sure you left the bedroom at least once a day even if it was just to move to the couch.

After a week he started waking you up so you could make breakfast together. He set up a chair and move it around for you so you didn't have to worry about standing.

Daily walks, weekly baths that soon turned to every other day, same went for brushing your teeth. This wasn't going away any time soon, he knew that much, but that didn't mean he was just going to sit back and watch you dissolve.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

fanfic ideas i've had in the last 4 days that will never come to fruition, not bc i don't want to, but bc it's so much more fun imagining it

ver shows reader his love and the deepspace boys

cuddling with vox but it's a proper boyfriend experience bc all his dialogue is fucking stupid. reader will say something sweet and then he does that little gremlin chuckle like "he he he he he. monki"

magical girl aia transformation with an elegant and oversized sword, says "i hate ai art," and then stabs a storm giant's heart killing it instantly

zuttomo gets lost in a costco and eventually millie asks if she can use the pa to gather the gang back together again and goes "cute girls, i'm at the front. 𝓼𝓸 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓶𝓶𝓱~" and then gets kicked out for being too sexy so 15 minutes later enna gets on the pa and says "reimu, petra, i'm at the front. sayonara you weeaboo shits" and leaves. reimu and petra get locked inside for 18 hours and live off of the produce aisle

wilson wants to hug/kiss reader for a minute a day bc he read that it helps relationships and physical health but he doesn't want to be the one that brings it up so he keeps leaving articles abt it around the house

shu and reader get an exercise ball but literally no one uses it as intended, it's now both a seat and a source of transportation, eventually culminates in a petty fight bc they hog it from one another until they lesrn the true meaning of love or smn idk

reimu tells you to get tf up!! and keps telling you to brush your teeth

stonersanji au revival. idk what happens in it but finana vapes

[nsfw under cut]

luca pulls back the curtain while ike showers (luxiem lives together in a streamer house mansion or something here) and he's like "hey ike do you—stop screaming it's just me—do you know if we have any marshmallows vox said he would buy me tickets to see miku in concert if i can put 15 of them in my mouth. you should come you'd like it it's on april 31! yeah i already asked shu. stop freaking out i don't mind. oh okay byeee" and then goes to ask sonny next and walks in on noctyx all taking a bath together (alban sits on the edge peering into the water warily bc he's a cat) (also noctyx lives there too) and he's like "hi sonny do we know if we have any marshmallows if i can fit 15 of them in my mouth he'll pay for some tickets to see miku on april 31" and fulgur's like "oh april 31 you gotta get on that asap" and sonny's like "uhh i don't think so but if you're going to the store can you get some more fruit snacks" and uki is like "lmk if you need any help luca" and alban anxiously briefly skims a hand over the water

claude clawmark "the mask stays on during sex"

i would say puppy play sonny brisko but i'm gonna be real there's a solid chance that this one might break out of wip hell

wilson wants to have sex every day so he can make tiktoks abt it

this is all just to say that wilson is needy af

[bouncypickle]

what if Eddie and Billy both worked as waiters at Benny's restaurant and they were both queer and decided to make out in Eddie's van

Eddie is fucking weird, Billy thinks, as he passes the blunt back to the other boy. The two of them are on break, behind Benny's diner. Eddie always shares his weed with Billy when they're at work so Billy always lets Eddie talk his ear off. And the other boy can fucking talk.

Today, he's going on about that damn guitar again. Billy has gathered that Eddie sells weed–and took this part time job as a waiter at Benny's–to raise enough money to buy the damn thing. Billy won't admit he's jealous, and a bit hot under the collar at the thought of Eddie playing guitar, because he's not a fucking idiot. And Eddie is a weirdo, even if Billy kind of wants to suck his dick. Billy knows better than to get involved with the crazy ones. Really, he does.

"You play?" Eddie asks him.

Eddie does that, asks Billy about himself. Probably because Billy is tight-lipped about personal shit. Benny gave Billy his dishwasher job out of pity when he caught Billy turning tricks in a truck stop bathroom. Billy ran away when he was fourteen and he's been on the run ever since. This break in Hawkins is just that, a break. Billy will be back on the run soon so he's not trying to make friends.

Eddie just makes it so damn hard.

"Nah," Billy scuffs his boot across the ground and slips up by continuing to talk, "Always wanted to learn, just never had time for that shit."

"For real?" Eddie asks like he's excited, "I could teach you, man! Can never have too many guitarists in a band. I'd be lead, obviously, but if you're any good, you could be on rhythm."

Billy tries not to sound impressed or horny, "You're in a band?"

When Eddie turns to look at him, Billy knows he's failed. Eddie's eyes drag up Billy's frame, taking him in, and it makes Billy’s blood pound in his veins. Eddie is fucking cute is the thing. Cute but a bit wicked at the same time. When their eyes meet, Eddie grins, devilish. Like he can see right through Billy's facade. Maybe he can. Billy's eyes flick down to Eddie's lips.

"I am the band, baby," Eddie's tongue peeks out, between his teeth.

Billy smirks, "And the band needs me in him, does he?"

"Well…if you're offering…" Eddie purrs.

Just then, Benny leans out of the back door and yells, "You two get back to work! I ain't paying you to stand around."

"To be continued," Eddie promises with a wink.

Then he's dropping the burned up end of his joint and grinding it under his sneaker. Billy watches Eddie go back inside, trying to calm himself down. That was fucking stupid. Billy knows better than to flirt with any fucking hot guy that catches his eye. He's gotten his ass kicked more than once for looking at someone the wrong way. It's fucking lucky Eddie is a such a freak.

Billy shakes himself, willing his heart to stop racing and his dick to stop doing his thinking for him.

The rest of the shift goes by fast, once dinner rush hits. Billy lingers, like he always does, because Benny sometimes lets him crash at the diner if he helps close. Tonight, Eddie is on closing shift. So once the last customer leaves, Eddie and Billy are the only employees left, cleaning the dining room.

"Hey, so how come I never see you at school?" Eddie asks, out of fucking nowhere, "You cannot be older than me. I'm a senior and I've never seen you around. So, what? Did you graduate early or something? Are you secretly a genius, Billy-boy?"

Billy scoffs. If only. As Billy wipes one of the tables down, he chews on his answer.

"Nah, nothing like that," Billy finally admits because why the hell not? "I dropped out."

"Aw, for real? School's important, you know."

Billy barks out a surprised laugh, "You sound like a fucking PSA. You gonna tell me to not do drugs next?"

"Now that would be awfully hypocritical, dare I say. And," Eddie says in this poncey, British-ass voice, "I don't want to put myself right out of business, old chap!"

"Jesus Christ," Billy snickers at Eddie's antics, "You're a lunatic."

Eddie closes in on him, gets right up in Billy's space, "Yeah, I am. I'm insane, haven't you heard? A freak. A devil worshipper. A bad influence. The messiah of the pariah, baby."

Billy smirks, "That's hot."

Eddie shifts the tiniest bit closer and for a horrifying second Billy thinks the crazy asshole is going to kiss him. Reeling back, Billy puts space between them.

"Gotta take out the trash," Billy explains.

Eddie blows him a kiss when he walks away. And fuck, Billy knows he has a weak spot for pretty boys but he should not be this flustered. If Eddie breaks their gay chicken first, Billy will give the other boy whatever the fuck he wants.

Once Billy takes out the garbage, Benny stops him in the kitchen.

"Hey, kid, you staying here tonight?"

Billy shrugs, "If that's alright with you."

"Long as you close her up," Benny tosses Billy some keys, "And stay out of the kitchen."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Billy grins, a quick flash, "You leaving for the night?"

"I am," Benny tells Billy as he pulls on his jacket, "Is Munson still here? Jesus. Just tell him to stop dilly-dallying, will you? I'm too tired for this crap."

"You got it," Billy starts on the last dishes in the sink, "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, night," then Benny is leaving through the back door, heading home.

Billy finishes up in the kitchen. Then heads out to the dining room to see what the fuck is keeping Eddie. He should have finished the dining room by now.

"What's the hold up?" Billy asks.

Then he stops. The dining room is in perfect order. Only Eddie is still there, lounging in a chair with his feet up on another, crossed at the ankle. When Billy enters, a lazy grin spreads across Eddie's face.

"Just waiting for you," Eddie's eyes are dark and deep and shameless. So, the jig is up then. He drops his feet to the floor, sits up, gaze never leaving Billy.

"So," Eddie bites his bottom lip, smirking, "We screwing or what?"

"Fucking finally," Billy starts tearing his apron off, "Wasn't sure if you were queer or just fucking crazy."

"Can one not be both?" Eddie giggles as he sashays to his feet, "My van's just outside."

Eddie's van is more spacious than Billy had been expecting. Then again, the seats in the back have been stripped, leaving only the driver and passenger ones. Billy doesn't get a chance to admire any of it before Eddie is shoving him down onto his back in the middle of the floor. When Billy goes sprawling, Eddie immediately climbs into his lap. Billy catches Eddie's hips, fingertips skirting up the edge of the other boy's t-shirt.

"Fuck," Billy leans up to kiss at Eddie's throat, "You're so fucking hot."

"I know," Eddie curls his fingers into Billy's hair, "So are you though. Those freaking arms? Goddamn. I bet you could bench me. Bet you'd be a jackass jock if you still went to school."

Billy snorts, "Yeah, probably. Be a real hit with all the cheerleaders. But I'd rather be fucking you under the bleachers."

Eddie giggles, fucking maniacal, "Shit. Why is that so hot? Corrupting the popular, golden boy, getting him to skip class and suck my dick in the bathrooms, watching him showboating knowing I'm the one who's going to fuck him later."

Laughing, Billy bites at Eddie's pale throat, "I am so far from a golden boy. If you knew even half the shit I've done…"

"Yeah?" Eddie yanks Billy back by his hair, hard, so their eyes meet again, "You a bad boy, Billy? A troublemaker? A rebel?"

Billy doesn't say that actually he's a piece of shit whore and instead he just smirks, "Me? I'm a cocksucker. A real good cocksucker."

"I think I'm going to have to see that to believe it, bad boy."

[spctrsgf]

laser tag

summary: first date w marc BRO I NEED HIM (i'm just a girl)

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language?? i don't think this one needs any??? crazy unheard of ik i just miss my man

a/n: me spawning every three months to drop a piece ain't cool I KNOW BUT LIFE HAS BEEN SO BUSY i miss u guys i am trying so hard to be more active :((((

Marc.

Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector, and he is downright nervous.

His palms are sweating, this is getting embarrassing. It's just a date. All he had to do is get dressed nice, the verdict being in something that he'd found in the back of his closet. It's been ages since the last time he'd needed to suit up, in not his Moon Knight getup.

He walks back to his mirror, turning to the back to make sure all of his clothing is straightened properly for what feels like the millionth time. He runs his hand down the back of his suit, bringing himself to face front and tightens his bowtie.

This is stupid. He pulls off the tie, unbuttoning the first button of his shirt and flattening it nicely against his collarbone. A tilt of his head to the clock tells him the time: 5:45. He shakes his hands out lightly, trying to muster up some sort of confidence before he grabs his keys and makes his way out the door.

He navigates his way to the place you two had picked out, nervousness bending to excitement as he sees the flashy sign. Its effervescent light is so enticing he finds himself pumping on the gas in excitement. After parking and stepping out of his car, he sees you at the door. 

Well, that's sure to stop him in his tracks.

You're dressed up in his favorite color. You’d asked him, the night before. He snorts. What a sneaky move. Your outfit fits you perfectly, and your smile when you notice him is to die for. He feels his hands getting clammy again and his cheeks dusting as he wills his wobbly knees to move towards you.

“Hi,” he drops out, nearly breathless as he comes within talking distance. You're even more stunning up close. “You look…” You smile brightly at him, your own cheeks pink as you giggle at him. “Hey, Marc. You look,” you pat his chest, pulling at the edge of his shirt. “As well.”

He shoved your shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

“My bad, sir.” You tease.

“Don't hit me with that,” he pushes open the door to the place, letting you walk in ahead of him. “I’m paying. Could get you a shitty gun.”

You toss your head back at him with a tilt. “Please. You know I’d still be better than you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

You both giggle as you make your way up to the front desk, Marc buying all of the tickets and you leaving punchy lines the whole way through. Soon enough, the two of you have been suited up and are ready to play. 

You two had decided that you would be on the same team, fighting against another sweet couple who were just as determined to win. “Marc, look at his shirt,” You point towards one of the men's shirts. “It's white. What a bold move.” Marc snorts, but you're right; the shirt glows like headlights. You can't miss it. “How good do we think he is?” He whispers back.

“Either really fast or a newbie who doesn't quite know they use UV lights yet.”

He snorts. “Laser tag newbie. Who hasn't played laser tag?”

“Not everyone.” You bump his shoulder. 

“Watch the video, baby.”

“Oh, pet names,” you giggle as you face the screen with a shit eating grin. “Didn't know we were there yet.”

“We don't have to be.” Panic flashes across his face.

“No, no. I think it's sweet.”

With that, you two go silent, both blushing from the high of your banter. You make your way out into the room soon after, settling into a competitive spirit. You quickly map out your plan to tackle the other couple based on what you had seen and previous experiences with laser tag, kicking into rapidfire excitement with Marc on your heels.

The game will start in… the automated voice booms on the loudspeaker, nearly scaring you. Marc giggles at your surprise, but a sharp slap to the side quickly quiets him. 

3…

He turns his focus to you, admiring the way your brows are furrowed in concentration and your fingers flex impatiently in time with the dart of your eyes. You're locked in, solely focused on the game.

2…

Your lips curl into a slight smile. You know he's looking at you; he hasn't quite figured out that subtlety, you've gathered. It's exhilarating, confidence boosting, to have someone so blatantly admiring you. 

1…

He realizes he's staring. That’s so creepy, he scolds himself, turning forward and remaps the room in front of him. He scouts out the best hiding spots, how to get to where he needed to go, kicking into his dump of internal lunar habits.

Fight!

He's off in a flash, bounding forward in a mess of anticipation and adrenaline. He's determined to impress you, ready to rub it in– only a little– when he places first and you second. 

Oh, is he in for a shocker.

You’ll give it to him. His moves are so smooth and calculated. He moves with the agility of a cat, dipping left and right. His eyes scan for any movement, so meticulous you’d think that maybe there was a cat up in his brain, telling him what moves to make next. But he lacks one thing. In all his glory, in all his advantages, you have one thing to top him. 

Patience. 

You pause, you don't move to take the higher ground, you crouch, and you wait. You let one of the men come forth, let him think you didn't see the way he crept behind the block to your left. You let him think he won. 

He launches forward, as you had expected, triumphant in the thought that he had captured you, unbeknownst to you. You turn, shutting one eye and slamming your finger down on the trigger button.

The shot seems to go in slow motion to you and to the man. It felt like a shot out of a movie, so picturesque that you couldn't breathe through the cliche. It blips into the plastic on his chest with a blue flicker, surprising him. You can hear his confidence shatter with the ring of the buzzer.

The man turns, heading back to his base to revive himself, only turning back once to nod with a sense of respect. You tilt your head back at him, smiling. With that, you dart off towards where you see Marc, gaping at you from behind a barricade.

Your free hand cups his cheek as soon as you get close enough to touch him, bringing your face up and just a hare's breath away from his own. “How'd I do?” You murmur. He blinks helplessly at you, barely managing to conceal his groan when you pull away from him.

“C’mon, lover boy,” you turn back, ushering him forward. “We got a laser tag game to win.” He follows you without a question nor a word, a dumbstruck smile painting his face.

He definitely chose the right person.

[merilaurecus]

Companions reaction to Modern!Tav who is a metalhead

I'll just indulge myself I guess.

Karlach:

Loves it the second she hears it

Hypes her up more than soul coins and that ain't even funny

She'll ask about your fav bands (mine is Avatar so hello if there's any fellow fan!)

Also how concerts looks like

"Ha! So there's a bit of barbarian inside of you!" is the line you get when you explain mosh pit to her

When her engine is cooled down you're not escaping two people mosh, trust me

Amused how you faced judgement yourself and been called a devil

You explain it gave you a need to defend the tieflings

You just simply knew how it feels

Besties forever no matter what

You rock out to heavier stuff like Rammstein or anything that can be headbanged to

"Soldier, if you can do it the whole evening then you're tougher thant I gave you credit for"

When you first use your growling scream during the battle that girl is deeply impressed

Even more if you actually managed to rage

Gale

Finds music a bit loud and chaotic at first

You immediately give him power metal and that shit gets him

Like fantasy stories told through the music? Pure bard experience

A bit skeptical about mosh pit, but when he hears how great it feels to you he understands or does his best to try to

Also sees a bit of barbarian in you after that

When he mentions that the best artists started among the sticky floors you're stoked because that's how the venue after the concerts feels like

You tell him about the undergrund concerts right away and promise him you'll take him to one just for the sake of the experience itself

In time he gets to like bands like Twilight Force and Blind Guardian

Also goes "wow" when you yell like an animal (he's getting horny at the post-battle Tav so)

Astarion

"Ugh, what's that noise?"

You do your best to explain but he just doesn't buy that

When you explain the usual activities occuring during the shows he also jumps on the bandwagon that you're secretly a barbarian

Or maybe bardbarian if you happen to have a band

You seek something lighter and EUREKA

Queen

You put on Bohemian Rhapsody the other evening and he's stoked

Other hits from them come to his liking too

He'll occasionally hum these tunes to himself

Gale overheard Queen playing at the camp and now he's obsessed too

Shadowheart

This one's easy

She's already an emo queen so

Buuut

Powerwolf becomes her favorite because of the religious themes of the songs and the fact they sound like battle hymns

You don't tell her Powerwolf mocks the most widely practiced religion so she doesn't send a guilding bolt on you she'd miss anyway

Falls in love with symphonic metal too because of the lyrics and vocals

When Gale mentions the sticky floor her usual comment switches to "Then you and Tav will get along perfectly well in the middle of the mosh pit"

Secretly wishes she could just leave everything and do that for an evening

Lae'zel

"Bah, another unwise custom. Impractical too"

She goes like that unless you tell her what mosh pit and headbanging are

Still thinks it's not the wisest way to spend time but applauds your ability to fuck everything and survive in the horde of people running into each other (usually way bigger than you)

Believes you can use that rage and stamina in battle, satisfied when you actually do that

Won't show you she's vibing to any music you like but she'll stop sharpening her sword when she hears Sabaton

Wyll

Definitely curious about the unusual music he hears

Even if he finds it noisy at first will pay attention to the layers of music and lyrics too

You comfort him by telling stories from the times you were told you're the devil just because of the music you listen to

Tbh he also likes Sabaton, because it honors the heroes as it should happen

Mosh pit? Headbanging? In his eyes you're really tough now

Also thinks you'd make an excellent barbarian

When you actually rage he's both terrified and impressed by your primal growl

Karlach will have to teach him how to mosh and not poke someone's eye out, but you'll manage

Halsin

He prefers calmer music, but at the same time he's curious

You give him folk metal and all is good

Especially if you put on some acoustic album

You tell him stories tied to the songs (like f.x. Eluveitie has songs about the helvets)

To him you're small but when you tell him how you regularly go into mosh pit with guys his size and you are not scared he's concerned he may call you a lunatic again

Since then he sees you as small but fierce and resillent

He's not a barbarian but seeing you unleash your primal nature through growl - he himself has a wild side so for a moment he admires you and then joins you in his bear form

He's an elf so I bet he can play a flute, he'll learn some folk songs in no time. If not, Jaheira does.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: implied assault and sexual assault (no super detailed description, but this drabble references some traumatizing shit—please read with care), coercive control, frightening scenarios and imagery, Protective!Negan

You were already trembling before you stepped across the threshold and the sight of Negan and his bat did nothing to ease your panic.

"Dwight, um, said y—you wanted to see me?" you managed to squeak out.

Negan finished oiling Lucille and looked up at you. His expression was serious and you marked the lack of the usual cocky smirk with another electric jolt of panic. He eyed you carefully, standing and letting his hazel eyes linger over every bit of you. The bruise on the side of your face didn't go unnoticed, nor did the cut by your eyebrow. You gulped nervously. "Mopping? Is that the shit they've got you doing for points right now?" he asked, gesturing to the mop in your hand.

You only nodded and avoided his gaze. What the fuck was happening? Why were you here?

"For fuck's sake, you are worth way more than that. I really wish you'd take me up on my proposal," he said, almost vaguely, pacing toward you. He seemed to realize you were shaking and his brow furrowed. "Oh, fuck me. You probably think I'm about to do something horrible to you, don't you? Relax, doll. You aren't in trouble. Quite the opposite. Everybody always thinks being asked to come see the big bad wolf is a death sentence. Admittedly, nine times out of ten, they're right. But not you." Negan watched your expression muddy with confusion. "I heard something," he said, scratching at his beard thoughtfully, "from some of my men. And if it's true something needs to be fucking done about it."

You were still staring down at the floor and his finger curled under your chin and gently tilted it until you met his eyes again. "There we are," he said softly. "You've got beautiful eyes, doll. Don't hide those babies from anybody, especially not me." His finger left its place under your chin, but you held his gaze. "You want to tell me what happened two days ago out back?"

Your stomach dropped. "N—nothing. Nothing happened." Even as you answered, you could feel the way that man had grabbed you and pinned you against the fence with his body as you walked back from dropping a load of trash into the dumpster. You could feel his roaming hands and hear his careless laugh echoing in your head as you begged him to stop, as you tried to resist. The growls of walkers on the other side of the fence had slowly grown louder; danger behind you and danger in front. Just as their grasping fingers would almost have you, that man, the soldier, would rip you away and slam you back again further along the fence. You'd disconnected yourself from what had happened then—disassociated. If you hadn't, you would have thrown your body to the infected yourself.

"Really?" Negan's eyes searched yours. "Because you're shaking again," he said softly, his gaze darkening. "How did you get that bruise?" You didn't answer. "Listen to me—if what I heard happened, did happen, then somebody needs to fucking pay for it."

You opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn't get any of the words out for a long moment. Part of you wanted him to pay. Part of you wanted to watch Negan cave in his fucking head with his bat. Part of you had already imagined it. But the rest of you (despite your situation and despite this world) wasn't cruel, wasn't cold, and perhaps, stupidly even, didn't want the man to die that way for what he'd done. Pay? Yes. But die viciously in pure terror and guaranteed agony? No... maybe you were soft. Probably you were soft. "I don't know what you heard, I'm sorry. But—" you shook your head. "Nothing happened. I don't know what you're talking about."

But Negan wasn't buying it and he sighed heavily. "Please don't lie to me, doll. Because I'm pretty sure I already know exactly what the fuck happened. I just need confirmation from you before I deal out some violent justice." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "What did he do to you? You don't even sound like you anymore."

Your wide eyes flooded suddenly with tears and you felt your body revolt against the lie you were trying to maintain. The best you could do was to not crumple to the floor and not sob aloud.

"Ah, shit," Negan swore. You were shocked when he pulled you in against him the next moment, pressing you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. "It's alright. It'll be alright. I'll take care of it. He's a fucking dead man walking..." You felt his hand smoothing over your hair, tucking you nearly into the crook of his neck and marveled at how strange it was to be offered comfort and safety by this man, who so often haunted your dreams. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. He's a fucking dead man." His teeth clenched and the muscle in his jaw twitched. The only thing left was to devise the man's brutal end. "You're done working for a while," Negan said, his voice strangely soft again. "Come with me and I'll get you settled safe up here for a while... Don't worry about a damn thing."

Prompt: "What did he do to you? You don't sound like you anymore."

[genericpuff]

The Kiss Bet Episode 172 - Hot Pot and Venting About How I Want My 70 Cents Back

Okay, look, this isn't a post I was expecting to make today but it's something that just happened and I have to fucking talk about, so let me preface this with some context.

I had to buy coins recently and because I switched to using my iPad for reading comics on, I got a "new reader" type deal from Webtoons for a coin bundle that got me like 100 coins for $5; because technically it was a 'new account' as Webtoons operates their in-game currency model on apps, not on actual emails (meaning if you use the app on an Android phone and then switch to an Apple iOS device, they're technically two separate accounts which you sync the reading data between via the account info linked via the email, therefore they have two separate coin wallets).

So with more coins than I knew what to do with, I decided to start FastPassing The Kiss Bet again, which I had recently stopped FP'ing around the S3 mark, as it's recently devolved back into the "will they won't they" trope, but instead of between Sara-Lin and Joe, it's between Sara-Lin and Joe's younger brother (the "true endgame") Oliver.

Now I don't mind the ship in essence. Joe was definitely not gonna be endgame, it was always gonna be Oliver, anyone who's read any amount of romance before - especially high school romances - knows how this shit tends to go, and The Kiss Bet isn't exactly trying to be groundbreaking or subversive in any way, it knows exactly what it's about and what it's trying to accomplish.

But it's almost become a little too good at this. Because in playing the "will they won't they" game for so long with a character that we know is endgame, it's basically been weeks and weeks and weeks of-

That said, after I caught up on the recent FP episodes, it seemed like stuff was finally moving a little bit. We were finally meeting Oliver's mom and his stepdad who he has a fractured relationship with, Joe was finally getting with his true endgame girl, Vicky (who's totally not an exact genderbent version of Joe lmao) and Sara-Lin was finally realizing she had feelings for Oliver.

And then the newest episode came out, Episode 172 - Hot Pot and Venting.

CAUTION: FASTPASS SPOILERS FOR THE KISS BET OFFICIALLY BEGIN HERE!

Already I was a little petty over the title like "lmao ok clunky title but whatever". I swept it off as not a genuine criticism, just me being a nitpicking asshole over what's essentially Fluff: The Comic.

The episode cost 7 coins, which is about roughly 70 cents, albeit closer to a dollar for Canadian readers (here's something they don't tell you about Canada - our Monopoly game currency is just as fucked as it looks) and that's where I'm gonna get into my second disclaimer that I need to be perfectly clear about (and it'll be what we get more into later on in this post).

I understand the principle of paying for art. I understand fully that many of these webtoons are being produced on tight deadlines by creators who often can only afford 1-2 assistants, if any at all. I understand and fully agree that creators deserve to be paid for their skills, time, and efforts, not just as creators working on the hellsite that is Webtoons, but as artists in general who deserve to make a living the same as anyone else. Anyone who follows my stuff here knows I'm an artist myself so I would never debate the ethical necessity of paying artists for their work.

However.

I can say that, and also agree with the people who have stated in discussion circles such as on /r/webtoons that a lot of the comics that have started charging 7 coins have been suspiciously delivering less comic since. And it's not even so much in the literal panel count, the liquid volume of these comics have remained the same, but the calorie count has dropped significantly. Food metaphors aside, what I mean is that despite many of these comics maintaining their 40-60 minimum panel count requirement, they have in fact reduced the actual amount of content that happens in them, and The Kiss Bet's newest episode is a stark example of what I mean.

I am going to start by posting only post three panels - three panels that literally sum up the entirety of Episode 172 and what it chooses to spend its time on.

That is it. That is literally all that's established in this episode. I'd tell you to go read it yourself, but honestly, this is genuinely one of those rare times I can honestly say that a 40+ panel episode is not worth 70 cents and you'd be better off, and that's saying a LOT when these episodes are only priced at the cost of a gumball. At least Lore Olympus has entertainment in how bad it is most of the time, Episode 172 of The Kiss Bet is just nothing. You will literally get more substance and flavor from an actual gumball.

Literally every other panel in this episode is either repeating the same dialogue (Sara-Lin saying the same thing multiple different times to express how Oliver is holding her hand or how his stepdad is a dick) and then Sara-Lin and Oliver staring at each other. Over. And over. Again.

I am not joking. I did not cut anything out in that sequence. That is where the episode ends. Complete nothingburger, seemingly cut off right as it was just getting started like Cait Corrain's career.

Out of the entire episode, there were 45 panels. So I can safely assume Ingrid's minimum panel requirement is at least 40 per episode, that's me assuming the best that she didn't exactly meet her panel minimum at 45 panels on the dot.

Out of those 45 panels, there were:

Two actual unique backgrounds that weren't gradients or just a single piece of furniture

4 separate panels of Sara-Lin freaking out over Oliver holding her hand and wondering if he even noticed

10 panels of Sara-Lin staring at Oliver either dumbfounded or asking him to repeat himself (or apologizing over nothing)

5 panels of the characters saying nothing

11 panels of Sara-Lin repeating information in different ways that could have been accomplished in half that time

Two separate occasions of Oliver getting Sara's attention from off-panel, literally formatted the exact same way both times (and both followed by reaction panels of Sara-Lin staring at him dumbfounded)

Way too many panels of Sara-Lin blushing in response to Oliver being an asshole tbh like literally this guy's a douchebag, Joe may have been the "out of her league" love interest but at least he was nice and didn't treat Sara-Lin like someone who just bought a Husky as a "starter pet" ???

Again, I don't usually like being a dick about the coin costs, and I definitely don't like being a hypocrite in telling people they should pay artists for their work while simultaneously posting their paywalled content like this, but I think there does come a point where it feels more irresponsible for people to not be aware of what they're about to pay for and how little they're going to be getting. This episode is literally one of the best - and worst - examples of how far the romance genre has fallen on the platform - when it's not being overtaken and oversaturated by problematic series that romanticize abuse and sexual assault, it's being dragged to death with the most boring executions of tropes that everyone has seen before and is only exciting for anyone who's never read a book or watched a romance movie, period.

And here's the thing where I do approach a bit more "hot take" territory, but every time I see this argument come up about episodes not being worth the coin cost, I see others who rightfully argue that 70 cents isn't that much to pay for what you're getting - weekly episodes of work that are usually always delivered on time, with more panels than you would ever typically see in a free to read comic.

But here's where I take issue with that argument, as much as the principle of it is sound, it misses the overall point: readers are paying for entertainment first and foremost, so can anyone who's actually paying for regular refills on their app currency step away from this and truly call it "entertainment"? Nothing was gained. The comic had 45 panels to say something, anything, and managed to not even squeak out so much of a word. Even the silent moments have no substance, they just reiterate information that we already know.

Do we really need another panel of Sara-Lin blushing at Oliver? We've known for weeks now that she has a crush on him. Do we really need another panel of Oliver getting Sara-Lin's attention? What is this actually showing of their chemistry? What is being shown here that hasn't been shown numerous times - with and without dialogue - for weeks now? What does the comic have to show for itself after four seasons?

Another point of the "it's just 70 cents, don't be an asshole" argument that people seem to miss is it's not 70 cents. It's $1. Because if you want to buy a single episode of the Kiss Bet, you can't just pay for the individual episode in isolation, you have to pay for the coins first, and $1 is the absolute bare minimum you have to pay to get 10 coins, which will only pay for one episode of a 7 coin series - of which there are many now, basically any series that's 40 panels or more will cost 7 coins and, shocker, those are the series that WT will tend to promote most, you'll rarely see the 5 coins series in the banner ads, and that's not even getting into how there are more and more series cropping up that have 5+ episodes behind FP rather than the traditional three.

So if you're someone who's (almost definitely) keeping up with more than one series? You can't just pay the $1, you have to pay at least $5 for 50 coins, and that will NOT go far anymore or cut as evenly as it used to when just about every series is now 7 coins. Webtoons knows fully well what kind of game they're playing by making the new coin cost an uneven number while still offering increments of 5/10 in their coin bundles. They undoubtedly want you to be left with an uneven number so that you'll be easily lured into buying more coins so you don't 'waste' the uneven amount you have left that isn't enough to buy the episodes for the series you want to read. Obviously this is more speculation and not fact, but it's a common business model and with the series that have adopted the 7 coin count model (rather than starting off with 7 coins outright) such as The Kiss Bet and Lore Olympus, it's becoming abundantly clear that either the creators or the platform itself is encouraging these series to meet their panel minimums with as little content as possible in order to get more money out of readers who are barely even being drip fed actual entertainment and narrative progression, let alone spoon fed.

And then there's the waiting. The goddamn waiting. So many of these series guilty of siphoning their content off through a hose that they're deliberately standing on are designed intentionally with the most egregious cliffhangers in mind to keep their audience hooked so they'll undoubtedly FP next week. Do you know what that amount of waiting does to a comic? To its readers? First off, it artificially extends the actual pacing of the comic to make it feel longer than it is, when in reality, many of these plotlines are happening in a vacuum of very short bursts of time. Case in point, Lore Olympus is commonly confused for having a plotline that takes place over the course of months, when actually when laid end to end in order of cause and effect, many of its subplots - including the romance of Hades and Persephone - takes place over the course of days. This over-inflates the plotline's actual depth and, even worse so, it makes it harder for readers to keep up with information that's being delivered, as it often takes weeks for that information to actually go anywhere - so by the time it does, many readers have straight up forgotten about it.

It's absolutely not okay that so many of these kinds of series are normalizing literal slow burning for an audience who's paying to be entertained. It's not a "slow burn". It's just slow, and deliberately so. It's absolutely NOT FUN to follow a comic that does not go anywhere week after week. It's frustrating. And before long, it starts to feel like gambler's fallacy, where readers have to essentially gaslight themselves into paying into it more and more convinced that it has to pay off eventually, based on a promise that was never actually made, only assumed in good faith. And readers should not have to fill in the bulk of the content that isn't happening with their own imaginations, which is something that happens a LOT in these series that spend so much time on the characters just staring at each other and saying nothing. It's not 'plot' to just draw characters blushing and have your audience fill in the rest of it entirely on their own. This is certainly a technique in writing, but in the case of The Kiss Bet and other comics like it, it's much less of a valid technique and more just flat out manipulating your audience into falling so hard into the sunk cost fallacy trap that they don't notice they're being robbed blind by the plot that hasn't actually happened - and they've been paying for that financial and emotional robbery out of their own pockets and brains every step of the way.

Again, I do not care about the coin cost in and of itself, seventy cents IS still an incredibly cheap price for weekly updates of a series that has to put out so many panels each week. But as a reader and a customer, I should not be leaving these updates with less information than what I started with. And I'm someone who's incredibly old school by webcomic standards, there are comics that I follow that have updated 1-2 pages a week for over a decade that manage to do more with their limited pages than Lore Olympus and The Kiss Bet manage to do after entire hiatuses filled with pre-production time.

Why does this page of Alfie manage to move both the intrinsic plot of the titular character as well as the external plot that's going on around her in one page made up of 5 panels better than what The Kiss Bet can do in 45?

Why does this page of Tamberlane manage to convey more information about the world's lore and the people in it in a way that's emotionally driven and clearly affecting the characters without outright info-dumping than what Lore Olympus has managed to spit out onto its plate since S3 started over a year ago?

How does Tales from Alderwood manage to be more entertaining and convey more meaningful storytelling through its characters in a single page consisting of zero dialogue than what The Kiss Bet can convey in its silent panels of staring, blushing, and repetitive stuttering?

Why are the creators who are relying entirely on their own efforts, resources, and ability to generate income through community interaction and support putting out better work with less panels and on slower schedules for FREE than what we're seeing from professional creators on a professional publishing platform who are being paid to do this as their job?

There's this saying in the tattooing industry: good work isn't cheap and cheap work isn't good.

At this point, 70 cents is not a 'bargain' as many people like to argue in defense of the creators. And while I do want to have good faith in the creators who don't pull this shit, the creators who clearly go above and beyond to do what they do in the pursuit of storytelling and polishing their craft to be the best piece of work that it can be - the comics that are worth paying 70 cents and beyond for - are not the comics that Webtoons is promoting to people. The creators of the works that genuinely deserve more than 70 cents per update are being left to fend for themselves without support from the platform, while those that aren't worth the price of even a flavorless gumball are consistently winning the Wonka Golden Ticket lottery.

The cost of 70 cents is relative. For some works it's a genuine bargain. For others like the The Kiss Bet and Lore Olympus, 70 cents is not a "bargain", it's not a "good deal", it's exactly the value of what you're paying for - cheap work that isn't good.